Rome's Hunting-Match for III. Kingdoms;
OR,
The Papists Last Run for the Protestants Life and Estate too, because this PLOT has e'en beggar'd them.
And, that the more may view it, to serve the Papal Interest, the Printer affords you this sheet for 1 d.
1. London's dreadful Fire;
2. Godfreys cruel Murder considered.
The Whores PRINCIPLES left
behind her, when she began
this HUNT, to be observed
by all her spurious Off-spring,
upon no less penalty than eter-
nal Damnation. viz.
The Gospel is an empty Cheat,
All our Aim is to be great,
The Moral man's a Wigeon:
Come let us mount on Eagles wings
Above all Emperors and Kings,
State-Policy is our Religion.
Reader, There's a Srange Cur got
among the Anti-Christian Crew,
he is without his Formalities, or
Badg of his Order; but his Name
and Fire-ball, represents him to
be the Provincial (i.e. the Chief)
of the Jesuits here in London
when they burn'd it; he and an-
other Cur, called Gifford, mana-
ged that Fire, hiring and paying
those carrying it on from house
to house, etc. But being out of
his Orderly habit, and with a Pen,
he may pass for a Lay-brother
who prints, sells, writes or speaks
against the Kings Evidence, and
for the Popish Faction.
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ROME doth now a Hunting ride,
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With all her Beagles by her side,
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In rough tempestuous Weather,
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On the Top of all the Morn
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This Harlot blew her bugle Horn
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To call her Dogs together.
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This filthy Babylonish Trull,
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Whose Charms the inchanted World dos gull,
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Is Lucifer's dear Minion,
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She sets herself to open Sale,
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And like a Spannel wags her Tale,
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To the Blind Witch Opinion.
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The Virgin Spring was in her prime,
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To* hunt for Blood they rose betime,
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Their Lost Game to recover.
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O're the Downs and humble Dales,
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The Fryers, Monks and Cardinals,
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Like hungry Hawks they hover.
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* i.e. Prote-
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stant Blood.
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This little SPOT stood in their Ey,
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Which men do call Great Britany,
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So strong is their Devotion,
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Let us send forth our Hellish Band,
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Wee'l have it at our full Command,
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Or drown it in the Ocean.
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Round about this Isle they range,
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Their Forest & their hunting Grange,
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Here, all her Dogs assemble:
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The Nation like a Drunkard reels,
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For underneath their Horses Heels,
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The Earth doth quake and tremble.
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On these rich unvalued Grounds
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She uncouples all her Hounds,
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Ambition, deep-mouth'd Jowler,
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Self-Interest, a Beagle fierce,
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His thundring cry the heavns did pierce,
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He wo'ud be Lord Controler.
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Murder and Idolatry
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Into all corners cast their Ey,
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With Nets and Ginns prepared,
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In ev'ry Town their Game they play,
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In ev'ry House their Lime-twigs lay,
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That (a) Lambs may be insnared.
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Treachery doth learing stand,
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With a keen Dagger in his hand,
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Adultery doth follow,
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They hunt in silence and are still,
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And when they do intend to kill,
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They neither houp nor hollow.
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Hypocrisy clothed all in White,
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Like a Cherubim of Light,
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The Garland He had gotten
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He alwayes sings a double Tune,
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With rosy Cheeks, like Rose in June,
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His inside is all rotten*.
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* Let them do,
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or pretent what
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they will, etc. believe Him not; you are forewarned.
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Say-well with a fluent Tongue,
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A lusty Beagle bold and strong,
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Was by this Harlot trained,
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This Tumbler had the fauning Skill,
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Inchanting words and wind at Will,
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But DO-WELL he was chained,
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Mine and Thine are Beagles fierce,
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They challenge the whole Universe,
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The poor man is brought under,
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A wond'rous blind ridiculous Story,
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By Masses and by Purgatory,
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Heav'n, Earth, and Hell they plunder.
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LOVE from door to door they kick,
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Community's an Heretick,
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Their own Paunch only feeding:
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Their Hearts are frosen up with frost,
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The Lady Charity is lost,
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CHRISTIANITY lies bleeding.
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Lofty PRIDE doth puff and pant,
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Riding upon an Elephant,
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With outward Pomp adorned:
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Exalted to an high degree,
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They trample on the bended knee,
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HUMILITY is scorned.
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Haman mounted into grace,
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Would extinguish Abrahams Race,
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By sound of Proclamations,
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With thundring Cry, this busy hound
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To all these Beagles doth propound,
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To murder three whole Nations*
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* Twas sworn,
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They were resol-
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ved, not to leave
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a Protestant a-
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live to tell of
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such a Religion
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as the Protestant
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Religion.
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For, Murders become indeed
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A new Article of their Creed,
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Love is an Aiery Notion,
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They * Godfry all who, in their ey,
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Do'nt bow with their Idolatry,
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So great is their Devotion,
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* See the sheet called Godfry's Murder made Visible.
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Holofernes is not dead,
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Like Grashoppers his Army's spread,
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Incompassed with Fires,
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See how they swarm on English ground,
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ENGLAND, thou art besieged round
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With Jesuits, Monks and Fryers.
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Esau doth this Game pursue,
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He is of this hunting Crew,
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O miserable Dotage,
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That he should love the World so well,
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His Heavenly heritage to sell,
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For a poor Mess of [P]ottage.
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Indulgences in these rude times,
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For hellish and unheard of Crimes,
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Are sent to ev'ry Nation:
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Lust, Pride and Avarice are grac'd,
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And on the Tripple Crown are plac'd,
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As in their proper Station.
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Shimeis Tongue is wondrous shrill,
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The Echo bounds from Hill to Hill,
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Through all the Woods resounding,
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This envious Dog doth bark and bawll,
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But Rabsekah out-rants them all,
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In * Damming and Confounding.
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*The Language
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of Romes
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Brats.
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Doeg, Nabal scold and chide,
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Upon a grunting Hog they ride,
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Inrol'd among the Swineheards:
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Ahab and proud Jesabel,
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With Avarice and Malice swell,
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To grasp poor Naboths * Vineyard.
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* The Lives
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as well as
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Estates of
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Protestants
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are now
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sought for.
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Achitophel was in this Train,
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Goliah, Judas murthering Cain,
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Old Dives choak'd with Treasures,
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Mark Anthony came to this Feast,
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The Greek that conquer'd all the East,
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With a Regiment of Caesars.
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Mighty Monarks that aspire,
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To ruin ALL with * Sword and Fire,
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A Lamentable Story,
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Through a Crimson sea of Blood,
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Like an overflowing Flood,
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They'd wade unto vain Glory.
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* Massacres,
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and burning
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Cities, as Lon-
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don, etc. are
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Popish Mercys.
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The Horned Moon wo'ud all controul,
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He fireth up the Northern Pole,
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The Scithian aids his Title,
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The Nations he doth subjugate;
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For this Ambitious Potentate,
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The World is too too little.
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Dionisius, brisk and brave,
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Must shortly come unto his grave,
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Did quarrel with the Eagle;
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Riding upon a tired Ass,
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Through ruinous Cities he doth pass;
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Is not this a jolly Beagle?
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All these Beagles in their Chace
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Hunt the Lamb from place to place,
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With Hollowing and with hooting,
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O're the Downs they dance the Hay,
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The Protestant is now their pray,
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This Dove can find no footing.
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Earthen Vessels clash and knock,
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Dasht to pieces on a Rock,
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The Mighty Hogen Mogen,
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Tyrants are by Tyrants slain,
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The LORD of Hosts intends to reign,
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When all these Pots are broken.
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A PRAYER.
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Arise, Great MICHAEL, in thy Power,
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Pull down proud Babels lofty Tower,
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Thy Love is Heav'nly Nectar,
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Thy little Lambs do bleat for THEE.
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Draw thy bright Sword to set us free,
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Who art our LORD PROTECTOR.
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