A Papist is a thing like a Man, but more unhappy than a Beast, since he is so far from being reasonable, that he wants the use of his Senses, God made him a Man, but his own zealous Ignorance trans­forms him into an Idol, not unlike that of the Psalmist, He hath Eyes and sees not. For he cannot (or which is worse, out of a resolute Blind­ness will not) distinguish between the Colour, Taste, and Substance of Flesh and a Wafer.

He is one that thinks it safest walking blindfold, and puts out his own Eyes, (we mean his Reason the Lamp of the Soul) to be guided through thick and thin by another, and prefers the dark Lanthorn of an inveighing Priest, be­fore the bright Taper of Gods Word, or the natural Light of his Conscience which the wisest of Men stiles the Candle of the Lord.

His main boast is of good Works, though no Mans Life is more debaucht and sullied with the continual stains of re­pented Crimes: Yet so confident he is not only to quit scores with Heaven, but to obliege it too by his superarogating [Page 4]Merits, Whilst his conniving Ghostly Father, easily winks at his Venial sins, As, Swearing, Lying, Whoreing, &c. And his Holiness, for a petty Sum, Cancels those more frightful ones of Adultery, and Incest; and Inrolls him in the Calender of Saints, for perpetrating the useful Villanies of Murther, Rebellion, and Treason.

His Faith exceeds that of Devils, for they believe the Truth and Tremble, but he can resolutely credit the most nonsensical Lyes in Nature, and never quake or boggle at the matter. He is as safe in his Creed, as a Conjurer in his In­chanting Circle. He believes as his Church, and his Church be­lieves as he does: That Church which is an Individuum vagum, a very Bull in expression, an Absurdity in Terminis, Roman, Yet Catholick; Catholick. Yet Roman, a particular General like the Nursery Phrase, Enter Seaven Divels, Solus: A Church universal confined to the Pope's Person, like Legion Crampt up in a single Lucifer.

A Church that is but a meer trick of State, a Politick Stratagem, to awe the simple, and maintain the crafty Hierarchy that first contriv'd it in pride and Idlen [...]ss. A Spiritual Legerd [...]main to bubble the credulous at once li [...]th out of their wits and Money.

Their Miracles are equally more numerous and more thin and ayerical, than those recounted in Holy Scripture; For what Christ and his Apostles performed were so gross and visible, that all mens Senses could evidence them, but these are so fine and rarified, and yet so many, that it at once pusles the most piercing Eye to perceive them and the ablest Arithmetician to Sum them up: Yet must we not call our Papist an Athiest, he hath a God, but he keeps it in a Box. A Wafer which by the wonderful Words of a shaveling Priest, you must believe in an instant Metamorphosed (or if you will) transubstantiated into very Flesh, and Blood, Which is no sooner made, but forthwith they devour it, which raises a Question, Whether a Cannibal or Papist, be the [...]a [...]kest Flesh eater, since the former eats only Mans Flesh, the later that of his God.

He fancies the Court of Heaven to be like those of Earthly Princes, where all Addresses must be made by the mediation of Favourites, and therefore as if our Saviours Intercession were insufficient, Courts the suffrages of Saints, and spends more time in Imploring their Assistance then in supplicating the Mercy of the Almighty; He offers such blasphemous Titles to the ever blessed Virgin, as would (if glorified Es­sences be capable of disturbance) make her blush and be trou­bled to hear them; and worries others for Intercession in such trivial affairs, as he is ashamed to relate to his Confessor.

Here in England (which affords no Wolves but those in Sheeps Cloathing) he appears a pretty Innocent Beast; but in the Inquisition proves a Lyon Rampant; he is not Inspired with the Blessed gentle Dove, but carries the Talons of a De­vouring Vulture, thinks it the onely way of Conversion to knock Religion into peoples heads with Pole-Axes, and esteem no Arguments so proper for the promoting his Catholick Faith, as Fire and Faggot, Racks and Tortures; All England, Ireland, France, Germany, the Valtoline and West-Indies too they have Consecrated with their Sacrifices, as if the whole World were but their Golgatha, or Acheldema, so much more dainty is their Idol-Worship than that of Bell and Dragon of old, by how much the Blood of Saints is more precious than that of Beasts; yet all this they shall justifie by that Text in the vulgar Latine, Hominem Hereticum devita; that is, as these Masters of Language Interpret it, de vita tolle; If his Impiety of Rome, the Bell-weather of this Superstitious Flock, be St Peters Successors in any thing, 'tis certainly in denying his Master, for never were any things more Diametrically op­posite, than the humble, sweet and gentle example of the bles­sed Jesus, and the proud insulting domineering, and usurping humour of this his pretended Viccar.

Infine, a Papist is one that has a Priviledge not inferior to Paul the Roman, born at Tarsus, for what Countrey-man soever he be, he is still a Roman; so true to the Holy See, that he is false to all the World besides, his very Religion, if he [Page 6]understands it, prompts him to Disloyalty, and according to those cursed Tenets, his Priest have instil'd into him, 'tis impossible for him at once to serve God, and honour his Kings yet will they ever boast themselves the best Subjects, but 'tis only then and there were their Interest fall in; at other times he will stir no further in his Princes cause, than he has orders from Rome, one Bull from whence he believes, can in a mo­ment Absolve him from all Allegiance, and the most sacred Ties of Obedience; In most things the Court of Rome makes use of him, as the Ape of the Cats foot, to take the Chestnut out of the Fire, and generally the Jesuit behind the Certain that gives him motion; That, and the Inquisition are the Buckle and Thong of Popery, the two Plaisters whereby the Pope hopes to cure the wounds he received from Luther, and ones more by their help to ride in Triumph on the Necks of Kings and Emperors; But 'tis time to conclude, which we think fit to do in the following Hymne: