The Lady PECUNIA'S Journey unto Hell, with her speech to Pluto, maintaining that she sends more Soules to Hell then all his Fiends: With Pluto's answer and applause.
I Lady Pecunia, Mistress of the Mint,
Am riding unto hell all in a Print.
GReat Pluto, Prince of hell, I come to thee,
To give account what hath been done by mee:
When all your Fiends (great Pluto) did small good
In bringing soules to Hell, I understood,
I sent you thousands, who my wayes then trod,
That honour'd me, as I had been their God;
Forgot their prayers, neglected their owne soules,
And all for love of me, poore simple fooles!
And many of them too (such is their case)
They cannot rest untill they see my face;
Nay, when they are in bed, so kinde they bee,
They cannot sl [...]ep for thinking then of me,
The Clergy mourns, my absence oft doth grieve 'em,
Till I come double handed to relieve 'em.
Which of your Feends can do more feats than I?
I can foole Conscience, make the guiltless die,
Pull Justice from her seat, and free the guilty,
Make the impure seem pure, though ne're so filthy.
The Lawyer will not plead the Subjects case,
Without he sees Lady PECUNIA'S face:
Such is their love to me, and such my might,
Th [...]t when a cause is bad, I make it right.
The Judge himselfe doth know I speak but truth;
For I have made them Knaves, even from their youth:
Nay, many mortals are such simple Elves,
That for my sake they will forswear themselves,
D [...]mn their owne soules, and all for love of me,
So over loving, and so kinde they be,
The great Church of S. Pauls, Ile have it down,
Though it were once a place of great renown,
The wood, the sead, the stones, which some count trash,
In time may yield the Common-wealth some cash:
Kings cannot war, nor make their foes afraid,
Nor make their swords drink bloud without my aid.
I can bewitch the Prudent, spoyle Devotion,
With promise of some wealth, and high promotion.
I ruine Towns, and make the slave rebell,
And after send the Rebels souls to hell.
Some think the Poet for applause doth sing,
When for my sake he undertakes this thing;
A Cup of Sack doth make his spirits glad,
But without me there's no Sack to be had:
Of all men living he cares least for mee,
For a rich Poet who did ever see?
My Slver-hooke can never bring him in,
Though many years about it I have bin:
I have lookt here about me pritty well.
Yet I can see no Poets here in hell.
And so great Lord I have no more to say,
All living men but Poets me obey.
Pluto's Answer.
Lady▪ quoth Pluto, I do honour thee,
For sending of so many souls to mee;
Thou shalt be call'd the Lady of the Earth,
As I was Prince of th'Aire before thy birth:
Though thou canst do but little good in hell,
Send souls to me, and that shall do as well,
With that there was a fearfull noyse in hell,
The hellish fiends began for to rebell,
'Cause Pluto took Lady PECUNIA'S part,
His subjects from their loyalty did start,
The hellish fiends at him exceptions took;
Murther spoke first with fearfull angry look:
Shall I (quoth Murther) slighted be, great Lord,
Who have destroyd so many by the sword?
How many men have I made, for your good,
Most barbarously to shed each others bloud?
Have I not made the brother kill the [...]other,
The little infant murther'd by the mother?
Have I not made the man to kill the wife,
And made the woman end the husbands life?
What mischiefe have I left undone in Towns?
With bloudy hands and feet trampled on Crowns.
Tell me what mischiefe I have left undone
To advance you: and will you dote upon,
And honour this great Lady 'bove us all,
Who to raise you do make so many fall?
Brother Revenge, now speak, is this not true?
How many men have faln by me and you?
Then came Revenge with hands all dipt in bloud,
And said, great Prince, if it be understood,
Murther and I have done best service now,
To inlarge hell under command of you:
How many duels h ve I made men fight,
And kill each other in revenge and spite?
How many women have I Witches made,
And to revenge their cause lent them my aid?
What is't but I can doe? you know it well,
I have brought thousands to the pit of hell.
Nay then quoth Lust, I pray Iet me come in,
For I have made more men and women sin
Then either of you both: you kill and slay;
But I bring souls to hell an easie way:
I tempt men from the Dunghill to the Crown,
And bring them unto hell in beds of down;
I Iull them so asleep with pleasures rate,
Till they'r in hell they know not where they are:
I tempt the wanton woman day by day;
The idle man can hardly say me nay:
I with provoking meats can please their pallats,
And strengthen nature with voluptuous sallats:
My name is Lust; 'cis I can doe these things,
And with faire Maids deceive the greatest Kings.
You see (great Prince) by what is here exprest,
I have done more for Hell then all the rest.
Thou vaporing fool, quoth Pride, 'tis I must raigne,
Thou waitst on every Pander, Whore, and Queane;
I rule in Princes Courts, 'tis I alone
That can advance the Peasant to the throne,
And if Ambition render him a Crowne,
We finde a way to pull the Peasant down:
New fashions day by day I doe invent,
To please the humorist and male content.
I into Barbers shops do creep, and there
Invent white powder to perfume the haire;
And so with that, and such like simple toyes,
I make them looke just like Millers boyes:
I make the Oyster woman leave her bawling,
And weare gold lace, a thing beyond her calling.
Not without me quoth Money, by your leave,
For without me none can go fine and brave.
With that the Fiends on Lady PECUNIA fell,
And cast her in great fury out of Hell:
And since she's come againe, thus stands the case,
She makes division still in every place.
O love not Money then so well,
That sends so many souls to Hell.
HUMPHREY CROVVCH.
LONDON, Printed for John Clarke, at the signe of the Flowre-de-luce, neare the Hospitall Gate in Smithfield, 1654.