News from Rome, or, A Dialogue between His Holiness and a cabal of cardinals at a late conclave, consulting the most effectual remedies to recover the lost credit of Holy Church in England : worthy the perusal of all true Protestants.

NEWS FROM ROME, OR, A DIALOGUE Between His HOLINESSE AND A Cabal of Cardinals AT A LATE CONCLAVE: Conſulting The moſt Effectual Remedies to Recover the loſt Credit of HOLY CHURCH in ENGLAND. Worthy the Peruſal of all true Proteſtants. Pope. MEN, Brethren, Fathers, Sons of Holy Love Adviſe your Sire, what courſe or way to move; Our Plots are Fruſtrate, our Deſigns all croſt, And I fear England (ſo much long'd for) loſt By Hereticks we're foyl'd and run aground, And Mother Church has got a Fatal Wound; Now to retrieve all, get and ſave our Friends, Lets ſtop at no thing that may reach our ends; Be ſpeedy in your Councels and advice, Speak freely all, and be in nothing nice. At this a loud mouth'd Cardinal ſtrait roſe, And in theſe Words his mind did thus diſeloſe: Moſt Holy Father I dare boldly ſay That our own People, our deſigns betray, For they who ſeek a Precipice to Clime, Will looſe no Opportunity or Time. Yet ours in both have fayl'd, the more accurſt Are we, to let our Scorpions Egg be burſt; For had we ſtruck, when Glouceſters Duke did fall, We in fit ſeaſon, had diſpatch'd them all; Or taken hold upon thoſe Precious Days, When the Fifth Monarchy, firſt ſpread its Rayes; When they with Blinded Zeal were ſo Enrag'd, Father 'gainſt Son, Brother 'gainſt each Engag'd: Or elſe, when London was a Sacrifice, Whoſe Flames the Signal ſhould have been to riſe, But we in that too baſely were put off, By that Dam'd Fool of Fools Old Doteing Goff; Whoſe Friends and Powers in France not ready we •• , Nor e're will be t'advance St. Peters Chair? We to a fitter time muſt let it run, And now you ſee, what a line Thread ye've ſpun? Had I been there, but Heaven be Prais'd i'me here, When this diſcoverie did firſt appear; The Sun that Sets, ſhould not have Roſe again, E're many Thouſands of them had been ſlain: You ſhould have • ict the time, then made • m Bl • ed, Delays in every thing do Danger breed. Had you then giv'n the Blow, 'thad been no Plot, 'Tis only Treaſon 'cauſe it proſper'd not: Nor can it be Retriev'd, tis paſt all hope, And they may thank themſelves for th' Axe and Rope; Alas our Plots are grown ſo Weak and Poor, That we're out done by ev'ry Common Whore: Each nights Intregue of hers, has plainly ſhown, More Conduct than, all our Cabals can own; We're ſo Unfortunate, tis hard to tell, Whether our Aſſiſtance, is, from Heav'n or Hell. This ſaid he ſate; Then Card'nal who was by, His Counſel being ask'd, did ſtrait Reply; I'le little ſay, for 'tis not worth the while, We are ſo full of Fraud, Deceit and Guile: That I much fear God ha's forgot us quite, And left us to the Devil, and ſo good night. He quits his place, and from the Conclave goes, At which another Cardinal aroſe: And doing Homage to his Holineſs, Did to him in theſe Words himſelf addreſs: What ha's be • n ſpoke already is to true. Therefore to England, ye may bid Adieu. Alas, your Buls, Indulgences and Pardons They know as well as we's not worth four Farthings. Your Bendictions and Anathem'as. Of no more value are, than thoſe in Plays, Your Legends, Reliques and your Purgatory; The firſt are Fopperies t'other is a Story, Yet you grant Diſpenſations, faith be civil; Tell me who warrants 'em, God, or the De • il: Father, here is none but Friends; I fear this Wound Will through our Tottering Babel to the ground. How can you hope Succels in any thing, Or to your Yoke thoſe Free-born People bring? When Hell it ſelf abounds not in ſuch Sin, As at this time our Church does wallow in: Which of us all, His Holineſs not ſpar'd, Of God or Goodneſs has the luſt regards Murders and Whoredomes are our ſmalleſt Crimes; By Poiſons moſt unto Promotion climbs; Name me but one, has got the Papal Seat By Juſt Deſert, and I ſhall hope well yet. A Siſters Raviſhment is held no Sin With their own Off-ſpring, ſome have wicked been. Remember pray, who whor'd MAROZIA, Who was inceſtious with OLYMPIA; And do you now complain, and are at ſtand? Pray what ere proſpers that you take in hand. She whom the Darling of the Church you call; Our Engine P—ne're ſters to ſtop our fall; 'Tis true, She did diſſolue the P — For which I wiſh we do not 'all repent; And yet what Pardons and Indulgences Were daily ſent her to bring things to paſs? Now ſhe do's nothing, giv's our Friends, no hope. Neglects both Jeſuite, Cardinal and Pope, While ſhe her Coffers and her C— has cram'd; She do's not value if we all were damn'd. Nor would I have you ever truſt again A Woman of Portugal, France, or Spain: He thus broke off, then came and ſate him down; At which his Holineſs began to frown; Pope. Saying my Lord, you're very plain with me; You are well read i'th' Lives o'th Saints I ſee: But know, who ever do's poſſeſs this Room, Is freed from ſins paſt • , preſent and to come. We cannot ere tho' all theſe things we do; In us it is not, tho' 'tis ſin in you. We are Gods Vicegerent and the Churches Head, Can pardon ſins, both to the quick and dead. But why do I theſe trivial things relate, Greater Concerns we now have in debate. Once more I ſay all our Deſigns are croſt, And if not timely helpt, our beſt Friend's loſt. Think of the Lords i'th' Tower how they'r engag'd; 'Gainſt whom the Heathen are ſo much Enrag'd; Theſe Perſons too, of more Renown and Fame, Whom you all know, and I forbear to name; I Pardons and Indulgencies can give, To all the reſt whether they dye or live, But theſe are not ſuch Fools er'e to Relie, On Bulls or Pardons, when they come to dye: Now how to ſave em • , were a work indeed, Your beſt of Councel give, ne're was more need; Card. At this one roſe and bow'd; and thus did ſay May't pleaſe your HOLINESS. I'le ſhew the way, P—muſt not ſit, that firſt reſolve, Either Prorogue'em, or elſe them Diſſolve: Before the Councel then, let the Lords come, And there receive from them, this heavy Doom. Let all their Eſtates be then Confiſcated. We had better bear, with that then looſe a Head. Then let them all be ſent to Baniſhment, That they their Horrid Treaſon may Repent. But as they croſs the Seas, twill waſh the ſlain, And they er'e long ſhall be call'd home again; Mean time their Heirs, all their Eſtates ſhall beg, And gain 'em too, by making of a Leg; This by the means of P— ſhall be done, She will obtain it, for a Butter'd Bunn. Shee Dalilah-like, muſt Sampſon bind with Cords, Freedom to gain for our Philiſtine-Lords. The Commons will at this be all enrag'd; We matter not ſo our Friends are diſengag'd; Then all our Engines ſet to work again: Corn grows the better for a ſhowr of Rain. This is the only way to quite your fears, And ſet them all together by the Ears FINIS.