Be diligent in mischief's trade, be each
Performing as a devil; nor stick to reach
At crimes most dangerous; where bold despair,
Mad lust, and heedless blind revenge would ne’er
Even look, march you without a blush or fear,
Inflamed by all the hazards that oppose,
And firm, as burning martyrs to your cause.
Then you're true Jesuits, then you’re fit to be
Disciples of great Loyola and me;
Worthy to undertake, worthy a plot,
Like this, and fit to scourge a Huguenot.
Plagues on that name! may swift confusion seize,
And utterly blot out the cursèd race;
Thrice damned be that apostate monk,[1] from whom
Sprung first these enemies of us and Rome;
Whose poisonous filth, dropt from engendering brain,
By monstrous birth did the vile insects spawn,
Which now infest each country, and defile
With their o'erspreading swarms this goodly isle.
Once it was ours, and subject to our yoke,
Till a late reigning witch[2] the enchantment broke:
It shall again: hell and I say it: have ye
But courage to make good the prophecy,
Not fate itself shall hinder.
Too sparing was the time, too mild the day,
When our great Mary bore the English sway!
Unqueenlike pity marred her royal power,
Nor was her purple dyed enough in gore.
Four or five hundred, such like petty sum
Might fall perhaps a sacrifice to Rome,
Scarce worth the naming: had I had the power,
Or been thought fit to have been her counsellor,
She should have raised it to a nobler score.
Big bonfires should have blazed, and shone each day,
To tell our triumphs, and make bright our way;
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