Selected quad for the lemma: tradition_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
tradition_n	faith_n	scripture_n	write_v	3,423	5	6.0492	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A01890	Babels balm: or The honey-combe of Romes religion With a neate draining and straining-out of the rammish honey thereof. Sung in tenne most elegant elegies in Latine, by that most worthy Christian satyrist, Master George Good-vvinne. And translated into tenne English satyres, by the Muses most vnworthy Eccho, Iohn Vicars.; Melissa religionis pontificiae. English	Goodwin, George, fl. 1607-1620.; Vicars, John, 1579 or 80-1652.	1624 (1624)	STC 12030; ESTC S103245	56,801	130

And like a Martiall Priest with two Swords fights Thus Popes permission out-laws Lawes most iust And Canons when hee lists Canons forth thrust Thus Cai'phas calls blacke white wrong right and still All gaine is good and Lawfull what Hee will Thus Rome runs-ore with Wanes of Wickednesse Though Gods wise Steward dwell there ne'rethelesse Thus Pro-Christ Procrust that rate Theefe is like To Christs true Tipe and Pattern most vnlike Thus Hee Christs Worke promoues by slaughters fly With sitting still a Stocke Blocke Dullard dry Thus Hee sels Smoake and turnes his Lead to Gold Thus finally Hee robbeth Christs Sheep-fold Is not this Prophet thinke you from God sent Yes sure as Night doth Day-light represent OF THE HOLY RELIQVES TRADITIONS AND OTHER ADMIRABLE INVENTIONS OF THE CHVRCH OF ROME THE TENTH SATYRE The ARGVMENT O how the Pope loues pretty pranckes and toyes How Peter-Priests and Mitred-Men Him ioyes NOw full fraught Legions and prodigious Bands Of Romes Patrician hasten to our Hands find Whose pregnant Whore doth Rags and Reliques The Vniuerse with trifling toyes to blinde Looke at and laugh at the fond Fantasies This Fabling-Father meanes to Moralize Hee 'l shew you many Nailes if truth ha'nt faild Wherewith Christs Hands and Feete to th' Crosse were naild And of Christs Crosse a pretty peece not rotten Which pregnant Peece hath thousands more begotten Why doe they not the Thornes Nailes many more And as the Crosse Longinus Launce adore Gau'st thou O Christ the Church thy Spouse sure prizes Her Dow'ry sure was no such Marchandizes Traditions Caucasus so huge is growne That Hi● great growth thy Church hath nigh o'rethrown Romes deepe-learn'd Doctours in Diuinitie Make th●se Religions firme Profundity Traditions Pillars prop Romes Papall Power These fortifie her gorgeous high-top'd Tower Much honour hence hath Romes great Grand-Sire got And of this Mould hath made a glistering Pot. But by the dismall-doctrines which he preacheth Hee is Gods Traito●r and Himselfe ore-reacheth Traditions gastly Gorgons hee proiects And by these Rockey-Rules Mens Faith infects Vnwrit Decrees Hee with Gods-Word compares Yea them preferre 'fore Gods Hand-writing dares A meere Inck-Doctour hee is held most fit Which knowes and showes nothing but Pen-mens writ With these poore shreds this Latine Bishop frames A Fig-leafe Coat to hide his Whorish shames But I Traditions loathsome Lees most vaine Spu'd from Romes Nauseus-Maw spue-vp againe The Scriptures saith Hee are not Faiths Foundation Traditions are Faiths Basis Propagation Scripture is not Faiths Prop Mai●-Mast Chiefe-Poste Truths Horologe Rule Canon Guiding-Coaste Nor was Gods Word giuen as Faiths guiding-Queene But that it might Faiths Chamber-maid be seene The Popes opinion is Faiths Conduit-Head But by Gods Word Mans Faith must not be fed O proud presumpt'ous vaine profane Decree And which proues plaine Asses-eares Popes Eares bee Yet anxiously almost All Popery rests In vntaught Teachers blockish brutish Brests Now comes the Scribling Age Arts honour braue Romes pretty Page the Popes fine fawning Slaue And many Wonders wondrously doth write Whereto in doubt I Faith deny and plight These Packes of Pick-thanks flattering Gnathoes base With luscious Larde fatten the Popes fat face These are dull Doctours as dull Carkasses Hee these fond Fooles conformes formes as hee please All these skinne-o're foule Antichrists deepe woundes But what 's the Salue when God the Sore confounds The golden-Legends of their Saints they 'l show Whereof Hee is most wise which least doth know For senselesse Writs and sottish Writers rare Rome long hath borne the Bell past all compare To which deuoid of Light and Learning quite What Popes each houre put out put in is right In wondrous witlesse wise many seeme wise Who little teach and lesse doe exercise T' Apollo's Kitchin I 'd not bring their Bookes But for Pie-papers and for Spice for 's Cookes And their mad making many Bookes I feare Is it which makes mee buy my paper deare Hee which as forged Writings doth suppose Canons-Apostolike with Truth he goes But when Decrees they Decre●als would call Gods true Religion then began to fall Neither my Mars nor my Minera● may Their New-Religions oft diuorce diplay Thalia bite thy Nailes thy writings rend For one-thing yet will not thy Verse attend Yet be couragious courage much assists With strong-arm'd hopes to re-attempt the Lists Blacke and White-Friers Priests in gay Coates drest A two-foot Cordeleire a bare-foot Beast Fryers Mendicants and Manducants encrease Fat Epicurean-Calues besmear'd with grease All these faire Sprigs fat Pigs Romes Sow doth breed From Romes most pregnant Dam such Broods proceed Heere thou maist see Christs Name make many white Whose diuelish deeds make their liues black as night Their houres deuotion is their deuoration And to their throat to giue a fat oblation But some doe fast that they by Fasts may merit And thereby thinke fond fooles Heau'n to inherit Each one his Sect obserues obsequiously Does Deeds forbidden bidden Deeds doth fly This Sect weares Linnen That will woollen weare This Sect holds Fish That Hearbs more holy fare This bald-pate narrow is That 's bald more wide This weares his Gowne more loose That 's closer tide This Augustine serues best That Benedict This O Carthusian is thy Copesmate strict This beares the Crosse That beares the Coole about This is for th' Altar That for th' Kitchin stout This sweet Saint Francis is thy follower bold That as his Slaue Saint Anthony doth hold This like an Auchorite liues in a Wall That strange to th' World loues the World most of all This to Hee-Saints That to Shee-Saints doth pray This Woodden-gods That Stonie-gods makes gay This to things fram'd fain'd pictur'd prostrate vowes This one knee That to 's Image both knees bowes This Christs That Peters This Pauls Ape will seeme This you 'l an Oxes Asses Sowes Mate deeme Finally fitly coth ' Oxe Theefe Sow Priest meete And many hold this Sect to bee most sweete Yet euery Sect thinkes his Rites holyest And of all Orders his to be the best Diuorcement of Religious Romanists Their Faith may se●er neuer firmely twists There are whom I' Suites from Sowes may name For they their Names from Iesus falsely frame These are Peace-spoylers Bellowes for to blow And Brands to kindle flames of quenchlesse woe This fraud-blood-borne base-brood dissembles faines And with sweet words to hide sharpe Swords takes paines 'T's enough that they ye● Luther Papists were This is their Faiths and their Religious Sphere See the Deuotion of these braue Whip-bearers How they with whips are dayly selfes-flesh Tearers Giuing themselues forty Stripes lacking one For this in thee O blest Saint Paul w●s showne Francis they say Christs wounds in 's Body bare To Romes Stygmatickes Hee 's the Patterne rare Hee onely had with Christ Conformity In 's body therefore ●hey fiue-wounds can spie I wish them this deuotion still to hold This whipping-Cheere Christs Coate thus bought sold. But let their Whips three stinging Cords containe And Tiburn-like triangled

Confounder killing thy Lambes good To Thee O Christ doth sacrifice thy Blood A painted Lamb 's ador'd deuour'd aliue Thus thus doth Romes Religion rarely thriue Him I will not Religious Holy stile But Common Whore or Couchant Wolfe most vile Gods Church with floods of blood orewhelmed all We may the Pope Saints bloody Butcher call This Field of blood Acheldamae thus showne Makes thee proud Priest a Dog-Wolfe Bitch-Wolfe knowne How many Tesles doe detest with Scath Romes sacrilegious ebbing flowing Faith Which Hee 'le now firme anon infringe and bee A Synon sly not Simon-Peter free For to a Counsell One once call'd secur'd The Guest was slaine the Hoste his Faith abiur'd And whereas Priests Gods Flocks bright Star should be The raging Dog-starre this Vice-Christ we see Christs feeble Flocke the Popes Salue hurts not heales Hee with tart Tortures not milde Med'cines deales I surely thinke that Turkes of All Popes times Ne're wrought 'gainst Christ so many bloody Crimes O what a Man of Blood art Thou to th' Bride By whom Hir offspring Dye in Fire are fryde Popes furious frownes make many vndergoe Deaths Dart Warres Smart Waues finall fatall Woe The Pope and Pluto witnes euery Lowne Thus differ hee hath Hornes Popes triple Crowne All els concurre So well perform'd thou seest All Satans Workes by this Plutonick Priest A time will come when Hee Christs sacred Traine And liuing Members dearely would re-gaine And yet Saints slaughter will not Him suffice But ore Dead Corps dig'd vp Hee 'l tyrannize Nor rests his Fury with Dead bodies fed But this fierce Fiend their Ghosts hath tortured Rachel Thy Church sweete Sauiour craues thy aide Lamenting sore that Shee 's so childlesse made Hir Saints wide Wounds from Rome receiu'd she showes And how with Flames she shines with Blo●d ore-flowes Shee now doth Roses with much ruth bring out Who in sweete peace once made white Lillies sprout In midst of Flames than Flames themselues more bright Thy Martyrs were all clad with fiery Light Nor did her soile want raine to spring and bud Too fertile 't was ore flowne with showres of Blood Popes Founders and Repayrers Diuels were With props of Blood His Throne to build and reare O Christ whilest Thy Saints after Death feard Death They feared not in Life to lose their breath In England heere a Queene being Papists pride By fire how many holy Martyrs dyd'e Nor did Queene Marie of meere Vulgars builde Those Godlesse Flames but burn'd fiue Bishops milde Nay more a Child from Mothers Wombe which brast VVas into th' Fire by Romish Fiends re-cast Lo thus with slaughtered Saints Romes shambles shines No better brau'rie Romes renowne refines Seruant of Seruant● Fellow seruants slayes And so himselfe a Seruant base betrayes This Latian Dragon with Gods Saints makes warre In Blood his foule Face laues than Warres worse farre In one of these fierce Monsters shortest raigne Records report an hundred thousand slaine Nocent the third I take in from the Nocent So many thousands in one Slaughter spent O thou in truth Saints ruth All red oft read VVith Blood of many Martyrs Martyred Slaine corps doe con-corrupt my life alas That Hee Saints Homicide so long doth passe And when O Christ thy Seruants slaine I see Ore-flowing Flouds mine eyes I wish to bee In that Parisian Shambles knowne too well How many guiltlesse Lambes in one weeke fell VVhilst Paris then more blood did drinke than Wine That Towne that time a Tempest was Sanguine Forewarn'd learne wisedome doe not Christ despise VVhom soone Romes Shambles brings to Butcheries Alas Hee 's not Sheeps Peeder but Confounder Black-cankered Conscience Ouicide Sheepe-wounder Hee which growes great by sacred Saints perdition Hastens to Hell with guilty Expedition Thine plagues O Christ by Sufferance subiugate For what they cannot shun they tolerate To these Lifes want is Life their Death no Death Conquest their Crosse to liue to lose their breath Goodnes their Gold the World their Pot Griefe Flame Their Flesh the Reed their Hammer God to frame Blood founded first Christs Church by blood it grew Blood showres It cheeres by Blood t is of red hiew With Blood Vice-Christ Christs Foldes doth filthifie See Men of God See Popish Piety Of Romes false doctrines many Scraps remaine Which my close Hedge is too close to containe Index Expurgatorius Bookes great Bane A Worke well knowne dishonest crafty vaine Robs or rubs out much antique learned Treasure Pils or pals out much at the Popes dis-Pleasure His Censure suffocates Mens Births their Bookes Takes out plaine Truths puts in vile spurious Crookes O horrid hatefull Slaught'r-House foule nefarious To Godly Bookes a plague a torture various The Fathers Strayes not Sonnes then Papists Name Though Fathers theirs All theirs still theirs they claime Their Postils Packets are of Trumperies Hee which in them can find no Wit is wise 'T is plaine All Papists are Traditionists Who terme and trouble vs for Scripturists Which be or what or how many Traditions Or where they are scapes yet Romes Inquisitions Yet These must be obseru'd religiously And be embrac'd with Scriptures dignity What-e're hath part of neither Word nor Writ With Word and Writ in equall State must sit Thus Clementines and Asinines poore packs Wherewith the Pope his Library well thwacks And God knowes what trim toyes and Decretals Must be Gods sacred Scriptures Corriuals Thus that blest Booke must haue no blessed vse More Wealth more worke from others Popes produce Reliques more than Religion they respect And more than Churches Chimnies they affect His Dei's made of Waxe mo●● pure Hee makes the Worlds great Wens and Sores to cure And hee which will not blest Saluation misse Must straitway striue the Popes blest Foote to kisse Water with Wine after Romes custome mixt Assures poore Soules to be with Christ fast fixt The Thorney Crowne O Christ which wrought thy woe A Golden Crowne on a bald-pate doth show A Cocke on Pinnacles of Temples plac't Warnes All with Peter to Repentance haste Waxe-Tapers burnt to grace the Noone-daies light The Gentiles promis'd-Light declare most right But sure those Lights doe plainely intimate The Popes Soules-darknesse and his friends retraite It also shewes that Papists hate Day-light And most like Owles see best in darkest Night Much Faith boiles in his braine his Heart holds none And whilst he brags of Good his Work 's not showne A Pater Noster said puts sinnes away If thou it say resay thrice oft a day These taste to me as Gall to Christ did taste What-ere I read taste trust proue All proues waste What vertue by Christ crucified growes The Mimick-Masse Popes Cleopatra showes Faire Phillis Philomel Calliope Venus Melissa and Melpomene This Romes Religion her Palladium hath This the Idea of the Romish Faith Heere Babels Bawde ruffles in silke and gold In shining Syndon sheltring thefts most bold And with cleane clothes hir damned Dens doth hide That Shee of none a rauening Wolfe be spide Her Face to