%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> AN ANSWER / TO THE / GENEVA BALLAD. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/26/2021 36470

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R936 OF all the Drolsters in the Town, / Of Popish, or of Hobbian Race, British Library - Luttrell Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 88 AN ANSWER / TO THE / GENEVA BALLAD. AN ANSWER TO THE GENEVA BALLAD. ?-?

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction / health alcohol Americas animals / nature Bible / biblical figures buildings / architecture catastrophe children class clothing / appearance country / nation crime death economics / commerce entertainments family Featured folklore gender holidays / seasons infidelity labor / craft law London love maritime marriage military / war monstrosity mythology / Classical news nobility / court politics / government procreation punishment race / ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex / sexuality supernatural / magic travel trickery / deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth / age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/26/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/26/2021 8:08:03 AM XBallad Henderson, Olivia Created XML Version of Ballad 6/26/2021 8:08:03 AM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/26/2021 8:08:03 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/26/2021 8:08:03 AM Transcriptionist Two Al halabieh, Deena Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/26/2021 8:08:03 AM Transcriptionist One Stearne, Carl Transcription of ballad manuscript 1/14/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">AN ANSWER</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">TO THE</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">GENEVA BALLAD</hi></seg>
OF all the Drolsters in the Town, Of Popish, or of Hobbian Race, None draggs Religion up and down, Or doth the Gospel such disgrace As Spruce with Coat Canonical Whose Conscience eccho's have at all, Would a fat Benefice but fall. He whom the Ruder Witts adore, And count his vile Lampoons Divine; Who Pimps in Rhime for the Old Whore. And fain would patch up Dagon's shrine, A sacred Proteus one that can, Blend Gospel with the Alchoran, And takes Texts from Leviathan. Yet if he list, this Motley Clark, Himself as loud as smec can bray, The Church he slaunders in the dark, But Hectors for her in the day: Of Late he scoft at Miter'd Peers, Pul'd the old Gray-beards by the ears, And call'd them Heavens Overseers. Yet now he fawns on them again, And grins in rage his foaming chaps, wishes poor Presbyter in Spain, And tears his Edifying capps, So Cowards kill where Hero's spare, And Renogades always are More fierce then native Turks by far. Thus with each Heifer he can plow A Papist or an Independant, What point the Gales of profit blow, He always steers, and there's an end on't, Was ever syke a Priest among All Gloster Coblers fulsome Throng, To pawn his Conscience for a Song? Whilst Presbyter with active fist, Makes it his work to preach and pray; This modefi'd Episcopist, Shews 'tis to Heaven a Jollier way: With organs and with Violin, And Ballad new on merry pin, He means to Wheedle souls from sin. Geneva in a huff he kicks, And swears by's reverend Cassac-Coat. The Leaman-Lakes a second styx, Where none but damned souls do float, Though wise men think its waters be, From all such secret venome free, Nor half so blackish as Romes See.
Perhaps the man has cause to stickle, Since Interest leads him to complain, Fearing some Neighbouring Conventicle, His Incomes to Low Ebb should Drain; But be not, friend! at that dismaid, Should preaching prove a sorry Trade, Ballading is not quite decay'd. He varnishes his envious hate With a pretended loyal zeal, But would in truth subvert the state; And all embroil the common-weel; His business is but to divide, wound Protestants through Calvins side That Popelings once more might us ride. See how he slyly acts his part, Commends Queen Maries bloody days: And doubtless should we sound his heart, Such Bonefires here afresh would raise. But Heav'n defend those sad extreams, We hope to keep unfilled Thames, Free both from Tweds & Tiburs streams Cease then impertinently to Rant, We understand the Stale Intrigue: Remember the Scotch Covenant, Was copied from your gall: Against blew bonnet swagger not, We know who hatcht the powder-plot, Nor yet is Irelands blood forgot. Our Soveraigns pleasure we'l obey, But scorn to Truckle unto thine; Since Charles does liberty display, How dare such Phamleteers repine? Peace, Becket Junior, know your place, Let no oblivion reach your case, Who Cyphers make of acts of Grace. The constant Rules of Heaven we know. Whose Starrs in Various Orbs do move, Which we may Copy here below, Whilst several parties live in Love. Without Yoak of Conformity, We can keep Christian Unity, As different Notes make Harmony. Yet well may each good shepherd cry, Unto his flocks beware of Rome, When forraign wolves so oft we spy, Making Domestick broils at home; And in each corner of the Land, Perceive those slye sheep-steelers stand, To give them the Red-Letters brand.
With Holy Beads they teach to chaunt, Their Ave's and their unknown prayers, And all the while to Heav'n they mount, Take special care to tell the stairs: The Kitchin-wench comes into Matin, And loyns her soul with shreds of Latin Like greazy Fustion fac'd with Sattin. Their whole Religion is so Odd, It seems a Dark Mysterious Trade, To Disturb Kings, and Worship God, Only in shew and Masquerade: A Chaos of Deformity, Made up of blood, hypocrisie, fraud, treason, and idolatry. Yet you as soon to Mass would Gad, Alas! it is all one to thee; He that Religion never had, May easily a Papist be, Where purchas'd pardons set him fre[e] Beyond a Raners Libertee, To wallow in Debaucheree. Though he contrive to hide his Plot, We yet can apprehend the snare, Through the sheeps-cloathing he has got, His foxes Ears do plain appear: Protestant Drones, look to your lives, He'd fain be burning of your hives, And counts the Scriptures dangerou[s] Knive[s] We'l not Recriminate the case, Nor make boast of our Loyalty, But still with thankful hearts embrace, Our Gracious princes clemency: Yet hope to prove our innocence, And actions void of just offence, Against this slanderous Pretence. When surplice was an useless thing, And Miter a poor Relique lay, The preaching Cloak brought back the Kin[g] And turn'd our Dismal Night to Day: Mun Calamy, and a few more, Did then more on their Soveraigns sco[re] Then troops of Railerists before.
FINIS. Printed in the Year, 1647.