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<DATE>2008-11-04</DATE>
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<NAME>Mona Logarbo</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
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<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed as part of batch B080930.pdcc.</ITEM>
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<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="B04919">
<STC T="W">p615</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99890930</BIBNO>
<VID>181635</VID>
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<TEXT LANG="eng">
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<DIV1 TYPE="poem">
<PB REF="1" MS="y"><!-- PDF PAGE 19 -->
<HEAD>Partridge's Advice To the <HI>PROTESTANTS</HI> of <HI>ENGLAND.</HI></HEAD>
<L><HI>NOW, to your co&s;t, you &s;ee with grief and tears,</HI></L>
<L><HI>The tricking Shams of the proceeding Years:</HI></L>
<L><HI>You that now &s;ee, &s;corn'd to believe it then</HI></L>
<L><HI>Impos'd upon, even by the wor&s;t of Men.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Now hang your Freedom on each Villains Sword;</HI></L>
<L><HI>Cheated your &s;elves, taking your Princes Word.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Thus folly &s;till helps to compeeat your fate:</HI></L>
<L><HI>And all that can be &s;aid,</HI> You Repent to late.</L>
<L><HI>But, come, chear up, Heaven will relieve your need;</HI></L>
<L><HI>'Tis from that Throne, your happy Fates decreed.</HI></L>
<L><HI>He had his orders then to &s;pare you too:</HI></L>
<L><HI>A <GAP DESC="illegible" EXTENT="1 word"> <GAP DESC="illegible" EXTENT="3+ letters">ipping is the Scholars due.</HI></L>
<L><HI>The troops of Gods are brought you to carre&s;s:</HI></L>
<L><HI>The dextrous Arts of Prie&s;ts and Idlene&s;s.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Religions &s;candal, to encrea&s;e</HI> Rome<HI>'s &s;tore;</HI></L>
<L><HI>Which Fools believe, and mad Men do adore.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Tricks made by Prie&s;ts, the Ignorant to &s;urpri&s;e.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Who Sacred Writ and Rea&s;on do de&s;pi&s;e:</HI></L>
<L><HI>But you know better, and have oft been told</HI></L>
<L><HI>Of tho&s;e damn'd Cheats, you know they want your Gold.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Pre&s;erve your Faith, your Ance&s;tors have won:</HI></L>
<L><HI>You know the Truth, the Mi&s;tick Three in One.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Stoop not to Idols, nor lay Rea&s;on by.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Give not your Faith up, nor yet tamely die.</HI></L>
<L><HI>The Sun will ri&s;e, the Actors fill the Stage:</HI></L>
<L><HI>And One and Twenty Months is not an Age.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Therefore be Wi&s;e, attend the Hand Divine,</HI></L>
<L><HI>Till the &s;till Voice gives you the Sacred Sign.</HI></L>
<LG N="1">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<L>TOuch't with a teeming &s;train of <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> growth,</L>
<L>My burning Mu&s;e into a flame breaks forth</L>
<L>In Sacred Pa&s;&s;ions, &s;corns to be afraid</L>
<L>Of tho&s;e va&s;t Murders pious <HI>Rome</HI> hath made.</L>
<L>A gracious Mother, merciful and good,</L>
<L>Her Thoughts are murder, and her Bo&s;om's blood.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="2">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<L>The <HI>Prie&s;ts</HI> of <HI>Rome</HI> are like their Mother true,</L>
<L>Lazy and Letcherous, yet Obedient too;</L>
<L>Furni&s;h'd with all the Vice that Nature gives:</L>
<L>They are the only <HI>Epicures</HI> that lives.</L>
<L>Yet they conver&s;e with God, di&s;per&s;e their Powers,</L>
<L>Confe&s;s your Wives, and al&s;o get you Heirs.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="3">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<L>Of all the Arts the Devil yet made choice,</L>
<L>This thing of <HI>Popery</HI> was his Ma&s;ter-piece.</L>
<L>For in revenge with Heaven, being at ods,</L>
<L>He taught the <HI>Papi&s;ts</HI> how to <HI>Eat</HI> their Gods.</L>
<L>Then 'twould not be ami&s;s, &s;ince thus they do,</L>
<L>To make clear work, and <HI>Eat</HI> the Devil too.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="4">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<L>Can you for&s;wear your Faith, give God the lye,</L>
<L>Cant with a <HI>Prie&s;t,</HI> and lay your Rea&s;on by:</L>
<L>Lay down your Wealth to &s;erve the Church &amp; they</L>
<L>That &s;uck your Blood, when they pretend to Pray?</L>
<L>Can ye be <HI>Prie&s;t-rid,</HI> and be aw'd by Threats?</L>
<L>Can ye believe a Crew of Pious Cheats?</L>
</LG>
<LG N="5">
<HEAD>V.</HEAD>
<L>Can ye believe a little Dow-bak'd God,</L>
<L>A Conjuring Bell, and a <HI>Good-Friday</HI> Rod,</L>
<L>A Lying Legend, and a Prie&s;tly Cur&s;e,</L>
<L>A Di&s;h of Holy-water, and a Cro&s;s?</L>
<L>When <HI>Rome</HI> grows Rampant, Hell it &s;elf contrives.</L>
<L>When <HI>Satan</HI> Preacheth, <HI>Belzebub</HI> believes.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="6">
<HEAD>VI.</HEAD>
<L>What Man can think the <HI>Inqui&s;ition</HI> good,</L>
<L>When <HI>Church-men</HI> wa&s;h their Hands in <HI>Lay-mens</HI> Blood?</L>
<L>Can ye adore a Cro&s;s, be damn'd in Je&s;t,</L>
<L>Cheat all your Sen&s;es, and believe a <HI>Priest?</HI></L>
<L><HI>Heretick</HI> can't believe, ye're only fit.</L>
<L>True &s;laves to <HI>Rome</HI> will never que&s;tion it.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="7">
<HEAD>VII.</HEAD>
<L>Should but a <HI>Prie&s;t</HI> &s;ay to his Zealot, Go</L>
<L>Murder that <HI>Heretick:</HI> it mu&s;t be &s;o;</L>
<L>He dares not ask the Rea&s;on: goes his ways,</L>
<L>The Father &s;ays it; and the Fool obeys.</L>
<L>What Man of Sen&s;e, but mu&s;t amazed &s;tand,</L>
<L>To &s;ee Fools act, what Bloody Rogues command?</L>
</LG>
<LG N="8">
<HEAD>VIII.</HEAD>
<L>Con&s;ider <HI>France</HI> and <HI>Spain,</HI> &s;ee what's there done;</L>
<L>Under what Plagues tho&s;e <HI>Neighbouring Nations</HI> groan.</L>
<L>And all this done by <HI>Holy Churches</HI> care:</L>
<L>For where <HI>Prie&s;ts</HI> &s;way, be &s;ure oppre&s;&s;ions there.</L>
<L><HI>Prie&s;t!</HI> P&mdash; on the name, I loath the very &s;mell:</L>
<L>They'r wretched things, &s;carce good enough for Hell.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="9">
<HEAD>IX.</HEAD>
<L>The Flux of Fate, that gives us hopes and fears,</L>
<L>Sets <HI>Rome</HI> in Triumph; <HI>London</HI> all in Tears.</L>
<L>That Brood, by Flames, that made your City rue,</L>
<L>Will, if they can, next burn your Bodies too.</L>
<L><HI>Rome</HI>'s Bloody Bigots, <HI>Londons</HI> Fate once chang'd;</L>
<L>Yet of a Crew of Rogues, but one Fool hang'd.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="10">
<HEAD>X.</HEAD>
<L>Apo&s;tate Church; a Faith built up in Blood.</L>
<L>A lazy <HI>Prie&s;t,</HI> a little &s;en&s;le&s;s God.</L>
<L>All their Religions Lyes: its proofs a &s;in.</L>
<L>When Scripture fails, then Miracles come in.</L>
<L>Yet nee'r forget, nor it forgive them Knaves,</L>
<L>While Martyr'd <HI>Godfrey</HI>'s Blood for Vengeance craves.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="11">
<HEAD>XI.</HEAD>
<L>Creation, What is that? What Noy&s;e ye make?</L>
<L>The Thing's not &s;trange that Prie&s;ts do undertake;</L>
<L>Nay, and do more, the Church hath here the odds,</L>
<L>God made but Man, but now the <HI>Prie&s;ts</HI> make Gods.</L>
<L>Never be bubled by a <HI>Popi&s;h Lye,</HI></L>
<L>Rather than that, re&s;olve Revenge, and dye.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="12">
<HEAD>XII.</HEAD>
<L>Let not <HI>Rom</HI>'s Court, <HI>Hozo</HI> proud, e're expect</L>
<L>On <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> Men her lawle&s;s Laws t' erect;</L>
<L>Nor let the <HI>Popi&s;h-brood</HI> think to controul</L>
<L>One &s;ingle Attom of a true <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> Soul:</L>
<L>God loaths their Wor&s;hip, they hate Holy Writ,</L>
<L>We hate their Faith, Hell waits to puni&s;h it.</L>
</LG>
</DIV1>
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