THe Nest of Iesuites, (like a bed of Serpents, that when their egges are hatched, are full of no­thing but poison) is now opened to the eyes of the world, and their veni­mous tallants haue drawne bl [...]d (almost) of all the Kingdomes in Christendome. Their feathers, which at the first comming forth were thin, (as not able to couer their backes) weake and sickely (as not [...]f force to make them flie) are now spread into large, mightie, and dreadfull wings; so that they dare presume to kéepe flight with the Falcon, and to pearch side by side with the princely Eagle: the beating of their [Page] pinneons in the ayre is so lofty and so lewd, that it affcighteth all Nations, who know not of what breeding they are.

But God (who with a spurne of his foote, can at his pleasure breake the neckes of proud and am­bitious climbers) hath a little (of late) shaken them, the wings of their insolence hath hee plucked, (and will in time turne them out naked, and discouer their vilenesse. This Iniesuated Fratry, thinke themselues worthy to be companions with Kings, they looke to bee Lordes ouer Cities, to controle States with the bending of their browes, to bee as Gods Porters vpon earth, carrying in their hands the keyes of heauen, and to let in none but whom they shall like. But listen vnto mee (O you peo­ple of the Germaine Empire, and all the Nations vpon earth beside) listen vnto mee, and I will in few words giue you the pedegrée of these Iesuiticall Aspirers that comparing the basenesse of their birth with their present bearing themselues, and their brauings, because they serue in chiefe place vnder the Romaine Empire, you may take héede how you let such dangerous enemies into your gates, or lay such snakes in your warme bosomes.

Vnderstand therefore, that Ignatius Layola, a Spaniard, (borne in Biscay) was the father and first founder of them. This Layolo being befiedg­ed (among others) by the French, happened in an assault to be wounded in the thigh with a Gunne, and so grieuously to bee hurt in the other, that at [Page] length hee was taken prisoner. But being not worth the kéeping, (for hee had neither any com­mand among the Spaniards, hee was of no birth that might challenge a ransome, neither had hee a­ny friends that were able or willing to lay downe money to redéeme him) he was in the end therefore set frée for nothing. Being then (as he was) lame and vnfit for the warres, he thought himselfe a man not fit for the world; and thereupon making away all the goods and wealth which hee had, he betooke himselfe to the Church of our Ladie in Mount Ser­rat, resoluing there to mortifie the flesh, and to de­dicate the remainder of his daies to the seruice of deuotion.

Whilst thus he continued, it is said, that hee had a vision (forsooth) of a strange light, which descen­ded from heauen and shonevpon him; wrapt with which apparition, hee vowed to make a pilgri­mage to Ierusalem, and to kisse the Sepulchre of Christ. Hée did so, and then returned into Spaine, where hee gaue himselfe (being but young) to his booke, knowing that the authoritie of learning would carry him out in the enterprise, which in his minde he had to himselfe purposed. From Spaine he came into France, and studied ten yeares in Pa­ris: in which space, hee got companions and fel­lowes, who trauailed with him backe againe into his owne Country: from whence, hee went to Rome, and obtained the Popes Bull for him and his fellowes, (or rather disciples) to goe on pilgri­mage [Page] to Ierusalem. But the Turkes and Vene­tians, being at that time in warres together, they went no further then Venice, and were there made Shorne-priests, (being then but seauen in number) by the Popes Legate, who lay Resident in Venice. Afterward, Pope Paulus the third con­firmed their order, preuided their number should neuer excéede thréescore. Yet afterwardes, his Holinesse vpon better consideration decreed, that their number should not bee stinted, nor that their Order (which hee called the Societie of Iesu) shoulde bee tyed to any certaine place of abi­ding. Thus was a poore lame Souldier the roote of this Trée, which now spreades into so ma­nybranches: and because they were ashamed to bee called Ignatians, or Layolons, after their fa­thers name, (hee being so poore) they tooke vpon them a more haughty title, and would néedes bee called The societie of Iesus, that is to say, Ie­suites.

When they lay thus in the cradle of their rea­ring, they vowed a perpetuall and willing po­uertie, to fight as Souldiers vnder the Banner of the Crosse, to bée chaste, to exercise workes of charitie, and onely to labour about the win­ning of soules for heauen. These were at first their lawes, to these were they sworne. But the windes haue shifted their places since, and now this Societie of Iesus, vtterly renounce the socie­tie of Iesus; they row vp and downe nowe no [Page] more in the shallow and narrow streames of po­uertie, but hoist vp lustie and loftie sayles in the Seas of Auarice and Ambition. Now birdes of their owne feather, doe abhorre their singing: for the Secular Seminaries (who drinke of the same cuppe, and the same draught, which shee who sits vpon the Purple Beast, and poures out to them both, and who march in the same ranke with the Iesuites) haue (and doe euery day more and more) in bookes publikely printed, vtterly condemne them. They say the Iesuites are bloody, and stir­rers vp sedition in Christian Kingdomes, that they are lyars, that they are proude, that they de­light in rich apparell, that they are wherried vp and downe in Coaches, that they haue traines of followers at their héeles, as if they were great Earles, or men of blood, that they are Epicures, and make their belly their god, that they are lasci­uious, and loue women, hauing Gentlewomen for their chamber-maides, and young wenches for their bedfellowes, that they are now the onely statesmen in the world, and deale in no other af­faires but the titles of Princes, the genealogies of Kings, the liues of succession, the bestowing of Scepters where they please, that they are théeues, murtherers, Machiauells, and the onely couseners of the whole world.

Thus (O you subiects of the Dukedome of Bauaria) haue I shewed vnto you the pictures of these Iesuites as they went at the first, and [Page] and haue pulled off the Vizards vnder which they haue gone masked a long time since, and haue now their faces discouered and made bare by some of their owne fellowes.

Sithence then that with their owne fingers they lay spottes of inke vpon one anothers chéekes, it shall bee no shame for mee, (nor let it bee held as a malitious act of my penne) neyther can it straine their Societie with more dishonour then alreadie stickes vpon them for other crimes) if Idraw forth to the life and to the trueth, the monstrous and vg­ly shapes of those impieties, which of late they haue begotten: and these they are.

In the Citie of Miniken, these Iesuiticall Mask­ers, vsed to walke vp and downe the streets dayly: such granitie was in their loekes, such holynes hung vpon their lippes, and such authoritie wayted on their presence: that in all places where they came, heades stood bare before them, knees were bowed vnto them, and the vpper hand was giuen them; their order required no lesse, the shewe which they made of Religion deserued asmuch. These obser­uances which all men bestowed vpon thē, made thē swell into pride, and to desire more to be obserued: so that they who were the markes for all eyes, be­gan in the end to cast their eies vpon the Citie with more curiousnes, and to marke others. By which meanes, the flames of a burning Lust, caught hould of fiue of these wanton gazers. They willing lie embraced the heat of it, and added what fewell flesh [Page] and bloud could make to nourish the fire: in somuch, that the eye which yesterday was enamoured of one beauteous face, to day dotes vpon a second, and the next day is almost blind which immodesty, stareing on a third. By which meanes, fiue Iesuites became fiue lasciuious Louers: & no fewer thē Six­teene Virgins must sacrifice their chast bodies, to satisfie their lust. How to skale these Maiden-forts, many Stratagems were inuented: to court the young Damosels was hard, but to conquere them, seemed more hard, and almost impossible. To som­mon them to a wanton parley, stood not with the dignitie of the Iesuiticall profession, to be Suitors in the way of mariage, was against the orders of their society, and to court so many openly, had bin to their euerlasting scandall. Some newe, some sea­cret and some strange nets, must therefore be spread to take these Doues. In the end by degrees (some at one time, some at another) were they caught in the snares that were laide for them: for vnder pre­tence either of confesion, or to receiue instructions in some pointes of their religion, were these Mai­dens drawne priuely first to the Chambers of their Lecherous Confessors: and after (by the sweetnes of their alluring tongues) to bee visitants of this New Familie of Loue.

Which forelocke of occation, one of the princi­pall of these holy Fathers one day taking hold of, when he had in his company, one of the fairest of the Sixteene: whome they had marked out for spoyle [Page] and dishonour: thus (the dore being fast locked) did his lust attempt to assayle her.

Sweetest Maiden, wonder not that my hand trembleth, feeling thus the soft touch of yours, nor thinke it strange, if either I blush or looke pale, whilest I embrace your delicate and tender body: let neither my lookes affright you (beautifull Vir­gin) which I feare are wilde, (as are my thoughts) nor this forcible holding (but not rough laying handes vpon you) put your heart in doubt that you are beset with danger. Assure your selfe (pretie soule) that the Infant in the mothers bosome is not more safe, then you are in my chamber: for I must tell you (and you must beleeue I speake truth, be­cause my words flow from the zeale and ardor of true affection) I loue you most intirely; at your eies did I long agoe kindle a fire. which I haue stroue to smother, but the more ashes I throwe vpon it to couer the same, the more vehemently doeth it break forth to consume me: vnlesse the same eye that hath wounded send forth pittie. It is your beautie (most delicate creature) that begets these woundes: nor am I ashamed that one of my order and coate, and souldier to those colours of the Church, vnder which I serue, should thus reuolt from the discipline to which he is sworne: for Kinges forsake their digni­tie, and forget themselues to win what I seeke: the loue of a woman blindeth the eyes of deuotion, brid­leth the head of authoritie, beateth downe ceremo­nie, makes a foole of wisdome, and a mad-man of [Page] son. Pardon me therefore if I submit my selfe, to a poure so vniuersall, and bee contented to yéelde vnto my affections, since they fight not to triumph ouer you, but to be your flanes. If you fears to commit the sinne, I can absolue you; if you feare your parents anger, I haue strength (by vertue of my Order) to defend you from thom; if you feare the scandall of the world, I can plucke out the stings of enuie, that they shall not hurt you, and stop vp the mouth of slander, that she shall not dare to name you.

With these and such other forces of spéeche did this holy diuell set vpon her, that at the length, what by violent detaining her day and night in his chamber, and what by the temptation of gifts, and hopes of promotion, shee yéelded, and became a slaue to his lust: being a sister so long to the Societie, that in the end shee proued great with childe of a young Iesuite. During all which time, she could neuer odtaine of her Louer, to sée or send to her parents, or to goe forth into the Ci­tie, but was locked vp by him like a close pri­soner.

And as this tyrannous inuader assulted her chastitie on the one side, and made spoile of it; so did the other foure by seueral parlées, onsets, stra­tagems, and treasons, both set vppon the other maidens, and ouercome them. Fiftéene fellowes had she more (in a short time) that like lambes lay in the dennes of the Lion. The vailes of modesty [Page] were torne from before their faces; and they were glad to be strumpets to those, that (by profession) were bound to be their fathers. They are now no more maidens, but holy-mens hariots; no more are they frée, but bond women to villaines. That loue, or rather that lust which inticed them to sell away their libertie, doeth now make their libertie more seruile then Turkish slauerie: for their chambers were vnto them like so many pri­sons. They had the nightly embracements of their Louers, and in the day, the horrours of an afflicted conscience. All of them were great with childe, and more great with cala­mitie.

Whereupon these infortunate wretches (that were neither maides, wines, nor widdowes, but were robbed of all honours due vnto wo­men) séeing to what base seruitute they were made subiects, and into what strange miserie they had fallen by their owne weakenesse, when so euer any of them could spie fit opportunitie, She wooed her Louer as hard (now that he had made shipwracke of her body) to detaine her no longer in that imprisonment, as before hee had wooed her to yéelde her bodie to his plea­sure.

She intreated, if shee might not be suffered to behold [...] [...]he face of her parents any more, nor to breathe that ayre in which she was borne, that then hee would commit her to the handes of a­ny [Page] hard hearted men, who (so they might not kill her) should bee inioyned to set her vpon any for­reigne shoare, were it neuer so farre from her owne natiue Countrie. To these prayers did she often adde teares, and with the teares did mingle kisses and embracements, the better to winne her libertie; but neither the one nor the other pre­uailing, all of them (though they seldome came together) had secret intents in their bosomes, to worke the meanes of their particular deliueries. Which being perceiued by their fiue Iaylers, (whose iealous eyes were alwaies fixed vppon them) they laid their heads together, how to ease their shoulders of that burthen, which they had laid so heauy vpon themselues. They could haue béene contented to bee rid of their guests, but all the daunger would haue beene when they had beene rid of them. To send them to the Citie, had beene to call so many executioners to cut them in peeces (for their Rapes) as were people in the Citie. To deliuer them backe to their parents, was to deliuer the inselues to Lyons that had beene robbed of their young ones. To conuey them into any other Countrey, was assured dan­ger, and no policie; for so might their infamie slie round about the world. No path therefore had they that led vnto safetie but one, and that was the way that Murther vseth to walke in. A Tragedie must conclude all; they [Page] fiue were actors enough to beginne it and end it. They fiue should write but fiue acts, euery man his act, though the Epilogue of all should bee their damnations.

This Tragedy was plotted in the day time, and was to be presented in the night: darkenesse was appointed to hang the Stage all in blacke of her owne making; lust to speake the Prologue, murther to hold the booke, and to prompt them; the diuels to be the Chorus, Iesuites the Tragedians, Innocents to be slaine, God vowed to be the re­uenger, and the Angells of heauen (who were sworne to publish it) the spectators.

This Blacke-worke being thus put to weaue­ing in their braines, they partie casting a thou­sand wayes how with most conuenience to finish it. And as these bloudie Priestes were preparing to set forth their vnhallowed sacrifice on the one side: so on the other, the Parents of these Sixteen vnhappie Children, did nothing but spend their dayes in searching, and their nights in passionate lamentations, for the losse of their faire daught­ters.

The Citie could tell no newes of them; the whole Dukedome knewe nothing of their mis­fortune: the whole Empire of Ge [...]ie, afford­ed no comfort to these who sought for them. Yea oftentimes did these Fiue Hell-hounds h [...]e the complaintes of the Fathers and Mothers, and [Page] beheld the teares of brethren and kinsfolke (as they walked by their doores,) yet made they but a mockery of all their sorrowes: their heartes being hardned the more to keepe them still as their Prisoners, by how much the more grieuous they saw their absence was taken.

In the mean time, & in the very Interim betwéen the plotting of their intended Tragedy, and the Acting of it; behold what a Watch man heauen had picked out to stand Centinell in the night of such horred mischiefe: a poore and silly man was ordained to confound these great Polliticians in their owne inuentions.

It happened that a Post (who vsed to ride with letters vp and downe the Country) being wearie with trauailing, came into the Church (of which these fiue Iesuites had with others, the rule and authority) with purpose of deuotion. But his deuotion belike, being not so great as his weari­nesse, he fell into so sound a sléepe, that the doores of the Church were locked vpon him, no man sus­pecting that any creature had béene left within it. The nap he tooke was so long, that he waked not all the night following, till towards one or two of the clocke the next morning: at which houre, rubbing his eyes to looke what time of day it was, but s [...]ing no light; at length he began to remember in what Inne he had taken vp so cold a lodging; and knowing it to be a Church, he pre­sently [Page] fell into a feare by reason of the place: his minde ranne vpon nothing but graues; which way soeuer he turned his head, hee imagined hee spied men and women sitting in winding shéetes, with the knots of the shéetes nodding too and fro on their heads, as if they shooke with cold as well as himselfe did: the least noise he heard made him beléeue it was the voice of a ghost: if a mouse did but stirre in the next pew, hee trembled as if hée had séene a spirit; hee often felt the bench vpon which he sat, and thought verily it had béene a coffin, and did as often féele himselfe round about his body, being no otherwise perswaded, but that he was a dead man, and had no cloathes on, but such as men haue that are buried. But to be sure it was not so, he would speake to himselfe softly, and knowing that he was certainely aliue, he lift vp his hands to heauen, which hee could not sée by reason of darknesss, and praied coldly, (for the night was not warme) that God would (if it were his will) turne him out of his doores, hee ca­red not how soone. Sitting in this perplexitie, and conching downe lowe, but not daring to lift vp his head, yet sweating with the very selfe same feare, which presently made him shiuer as much againe. Behold hee heard the lockes of a doore flie backe, at which noise his very téeth chat­tered in his head with the terror. Anon he might heare the shufling of féete, and the lamen­table [Page] sound of a voyce, strugling to vtter some­what, but he could not perfectly tel what, by rea­son as hee imagined, it was often stopt by some violence, whilst it laboured to speake.

The poore Post being not willing to die, hee knew not how, (for hee looked still to be knocked on the head as he sat) péered vp by little and little with his eyes, and spied round about the Church the glimpse of a candle: the light put him into comfort, but the noise that followed it, went more colde to his heart, then the panges of death it selfe.

They that were thus entered into the Church so early, (for it was now about thrée of the clocke in the morning) were the fiue bloody Tragedi­ans: the Scaene was now on foote. The Maske which the Iesuites intended for this nights Re­uells, was now newly come in. The principall of them (of whom in the beginning of this dis­course we spake first) being the chiefs Torch-bea­rer, for he led the way, & carried a light before all the rest. Those that were to dance their last hea­uie measures hand in hand with death, were the firtéene young Damsells great with childe, who were thus led in one by one, (for more state to the murther.) This first, (whose name was Eliza­beth) being she whose courting I told you of be­fore. Her did three of the Iesuites (like three Fu­ries) hale in; two by drawing her violently by y^e [Page] armes, two behind her, driuing her as forcibly forward, with one of their handes euer and anon (as she offered to cry-out) stopping her mouth, whilst the fift Fiend held a candle before the Di­uell, and lighted the other Foure: who continued in this barbarous halling of the poore wretch, till they had draged her vp to the High Alter.

The Post ventured to see all this, and could haue sighed to see it: but that he feared the wind of his breath, would betray him. Now stood the miserable condemned Prisoner on the Scaffold, where shee was to suffer: her executioners stood round about her there was no hope of a par­don, there was no helpe to saue her from the Block. The Lecherous Villaine, that had de­slowred her; was the first that bid her kneele downe: She with a trembling voice, and a pite­ous looke, asking why, and desiring to knowe in what shee had offended him, to bee thus torue in peices, and to be haled like a sheepe to a slaugter-house. Her Rauisher bid her bee patient, to vse few words, not to dally with her foule, but to set­tle her thoughts to meete death like a Christian: and demaunded of her, if she could be content to dye. I am (quoth she) content to dye; but I be­feech you my Lords, play not you the cruell hang­men, nor lay my blood vpon your reuer end heads. If God say this is my last houre, his message is welcome: but bee not you the Murderers of an [Page] Innocent Maiden. Oh I haue lost the honour of that name amongst you, which was as [...]eare to me as life it selfe. Let me not l [...]e my life amongst you, least you [...] too many sinnes vpon your soules. I sweare vnto you my Lordes, if you will giue me life, (it is a wretched gift which I b [...]gge at your handes, for it is a miserie for me to liue) but if you will graunt me life, I will renounce my C [...]y, forsake my Parents, flye from my kinred and acquaintance: or if I [...]te with any so vn­happy as to knowe me, I will deny my owne name, or if I cannot do that, yet will I neuer publishe yours, nor what you haue done vn­to mee. And you (most Holy Sir) that haue pulled the fruites of my Chastitie; looke vp­on mee with an eye of pittie: I coniure you by the Religion which you professe, by your S [...]i­etie, by the loue which at the first you [...]are me, and by the Babe in my Wombe, of which you are the Father: spare mee (Oh spare mee!) if not for my owne sake, (for happylie I haue wr [...]nged you, or [...] not now gratious in your [...]ight) yet for the Infants sake within mee, who euen strugleth at this instant in my body, to get away, a [...] hauing knowledge (I thinke) what is comming towards it: saue that which is part of your selfe, that neuer offended you.

Not a word which shee spake, but came [Page] forth with such abundance of teares, that euen the Marble in which thee kneeled, sweate droppes of water: because it bare vppe men that were harder then that on which they trode.

In this manner did shee pleads for life: in this manner did shee complaine.

But they that had made a Couenant with Hell (which they could not now breake,) re­membred what state of daunger they stoode in, if shee and the rest liued: and therefore one of them casting a Corde a bout her neck, to pull her body downe to the ground: the rest held her, whilest hee that had before the vse of her faire bodie, was now the destroyer of it; and with a greate Iron Bullet, beate out her braines.

This first Scaene of Death being Acted, the rest of the big bellied Damosells, were in the same manner fetched forth of their Chambers, which had beene their Iayles, and were ledde to the Church, to bee married to Death. Their lamentations were a like, because their wronges were a like: but all pittie and pyetie being hid in the darknesse of so foule a night, and crueltie vsurping their hearts, of purpose to giue grace to so hort [...] a Tragedie, and to make it more full: in the end, the last of the [...]r­t [...]e closed vp the Iesuites Play. Whilest in [Page] stead of an Epilogue, their bodies which as they were murdered, were throwne behind the Alter, and were in one graue behinde the Alter buried.

By this time the Sunne (who cannot abide to bee present at murders) arose, and looked red with anger, that his pale sister (the Queene of the night) should suffer such damned im­pieties to bee done in her dominion: chée­ring therfore the miserable Post, with his gold­en beames, which hee sent into the Church to reuiue him, that was more than halfe dead with the sight which he had seen. At the length, when the Murderers were fled to their nests, like Owles at the approching of day, his light both called vp the morning, and called out the poore fellowe out of the polluted Temple, (who with his hayre halfe an ende) went home and related to his Host the circumstance of all thinges, in which hee had beene the one­ly sad speetator.

The Host vpon this relation, tooke the Post along with him to the Citizens house, who had lost his Daughter (whose name was Elizabeth:) the Father (albeit his childe, whome he loued déerely, had béene for a long time missing) being informed of the bloodie Night-worke of the Iesuites, woulde hardlie beléeue, that men so reue­renced [Page] for their Religion, coulde descende into such basenesse and godlesse acts.

To the Magistrate therefore was the Post carried, before whome hee constant­ly [...]ing in his former discourse, was notwithstanding committed to prison, be­cause a matter of such moment was not to bee published for trueth, from the report of so meane a person, when it concerned the liues and repulation of men so great as the Ie­suites.

The fellow being thus committed, the Magistrates went discréetely to worke, and at last, [...]iring to the Church, which had béene stained with the blood of Innocents, and made a Shambles: vppon some far­ther presumptu [...] probabilities, the ground behinde the Altar was broken vp, and the murthered bodies found, as the Post had dis­couered.

Thereupon the Iesuites were sent for to the B [...]e-house, and after many inquities, and [...], the Post like [...]se [...]ua voce [...]ing to their fa­ces, and accusing th [...]; the fact was openly con [...]: for which they were by order of the lawes of the Countrie, adi [...]ed to die: the [...] their [...] and death being th [...].

All the fiue Iesuites being placed in a Wa­gon, and drawne through the Citie, had their flesh at nine seuerall times pinched with hot burning pincers from them; and in three se­uerall parts of their bodies, great peeces sli­ced away with kniues; then were their arme [...] and legges broken on the Wheele, and [...] were they left languishing till they expi­red: the Post being rewarded (for his watching all night) out of the common purse of the Citie.