The Contention bettwyxte Churchyeard and Camell vpon Dauid Dycers Dreame sett out in suche order, that it is bothe wyttye and profytable for all degryes. Rede this littell comunication betwene Churchyarde: Camell: and others mo: Newlye Imprinted and sett furthe for thy profyt gentill Reader |
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 | The Contention bettwyxte Churchyeard and Camell |  |
The Preface.
Drawe nere gentill reader and harken to mee,Her stondes Dauid Dicar Dremynge as you see.
He sleapethe, and wakes not, but dremethe on still.
To scanne what he dremeth eche man hathe a will.
Some dothe him blame for his restles mynde.
Whiche sleape causeth him Dreme by naturall kynde
And some doth praise his labouringe reste,
Thonghe Dreminge in sleapinge be not the best.
And sōe saithe that sleaping nedes no Dremes at all
Whiche yet neuer hathe ben, nor to come neuer shall.
And somme wolde correcte Dauids Dreme to amende,
Before he hath Dremed his Dreame to the ende
And some do interpret what his Dreame ment.
Declaringe the secrettes of Dauids intent.
And some do immagyne Dauid Dicar to lye
In doges sleape this Dremynge, eche man for to trye.
But Dauid dreames on and thinkes no man ill.
And sufferthe eche man to worke on his will
And somme men dothe whisper suche neppes in his eare
whiche efte now and then Dauid dicar dothe heare,
Then answeringe sleapinge he momblethe this out,
And cawllethe thē fomblers that stondes him aboute.
As the whetstone beinge dul good edges dothe sette.
So Dauid dreamynge still, sharpe wits he dothe whette
And causethe the wakinge, to worke all ther will.
From sleaping his dreming to fetche out the skill
Yet some will not cease to shake him by the slyue
Withe taunting poore Dauid from dreaminge to driue
And some in this dreaminge dothe ponder so depe
That in stoddinge of dreaminge they fall asliepe.
And some are so weried that they may no more
And some cannot scarclie answer a whene
Till time dothe determyne to shewe forthe a thene
Sithe certaine of vncertain no stronger takethe holde
Let him blowe the cole, that is moste a coulde
Sure this is the beste waye for wisemen to take.
To let slepers and dreamers alone till they wake,
As plainlye apperethe by this fine witted men.
In tossinge and tomblynge of Dauid dicars when.
Thus beating thair brains in vain they do toyle.
And clokethe ther wittes for feare of the foyle.
The one dothe affirme the other dothe defende.
Yet neither of either canons make anende.
The ende of the preface.
Dauy Dycars Dreame.
When faith in frē? esl ere fruit and folysh frācyes fade,And crafty catchers cum to nough, & hate gret loue hath made.
When fraud flieth far from towne, & loytrers leaue ye fielde,
And rude shall runne a right full race, & all mē be wel wilde
when gropers after gayne, shall carpe for comon welth,
And wyly workers shall disdaine, to fygge & lyue by stelth
when wisdome walkes a loft, and folly syts full low,
And vertue vāquish pampred vice, & grace begins to grow.
when Iustice ioynes to truth, and law lookes not to meede,
And bribes help not to build fair bowres, nor giftes gret glotons fede.
when hongere hides his head and plenty please the poore,
And niggerdes to ye nedy mē, shall neuer shut their doore-
when double darke deceit, is out of credit worne,
And fauning speche is falshed found, and craft is laught to skorne
when pride which pickes the purs, gapes not for garmentes gay.
Nor iaveles wear no veluet weedes, nor wandring wits bere sway
when riches wrongs no right nor power poore put backe,
Nor couetous crepes not into Courte, nor lerned, liuing lack
whē slipper sleights are seene and far fatches be founde,
And priuate proffit & selfe loue shall both be put in pounde:
when dete no sergeant dreeds, and cowrtiers credit keepe,
And might melles not with merchandise, nor lordes shall sell no sheepe:
whē lucere lasts not long, and hurd great heaps doth hate,
And euery wight is well contente, to walke in his estate,
when truth doth tread ye strets and liers lurke in den,
And Rex doth raigne and rule the rost, and weedes out wicked men:
Your strife shall stynt I vndertake, your dredfull dayes ar done.
To Dauid Dicars when.
To him that doth dreame, Dauid Dicars when.
And euen so from hym, to such othermen.
And euen so from hym, to such othermen.
Frō
when vnto when, to come to this when
whē fools of your folly, will worke lyke wyse men,
And know theyr owne fautes and leaue faulting other.
And fyrst mēde thē selues, and then warne theyr brother,
Enuiyng none, for that theyr sorte is not
Such as they would be, lyke others I wot.
Goddes of degree, to rule and beare swaye,
whose maners mete not, to stand in such stay,
And yet wold haue mouthes, to rore like the Lyon
Beyng but Asses brute of cōdicion
forgettynge that order doth thus aske and craue,
That eche should hym selfe in order behaue.
As baestes of lowe sorte, to be mek of theyr mynde,
To those that be hygher, and greater of kynde.
The Bore not to bragge, to stryue wyth the Lyon.
The Hart not to stand, with the Bull in contention,
The Oxe that doth draw, to thyncke hym selfe able,
To runne for a wager, with the Horse of the stable.
It grees not, it cordes not, nor orderly fyttes
That men should fynd fault, with Gods and theyr wyttes
Iupiters seate standes some what to hye.
For vs to iudge it, that come it not nye.
And iudgementes or gesse, in any such sorte,
May serue to the Gods, for a laughter and sporte
To se how Iudas, would fayne become Iuda.
To iuste at the life, of Iuli apostata,
Let Beastes that be meete, for carte and caryage,
Leane to theyr laboure, as manne to hys maryage.
And synce we be members of one common wealthe.
Let vs ioyne aptly, as fyttes for our health.
The eye as the eye, let hym stare and looke,
And let the leg learne, to bow and to crooke.
Let the hand answere, to help and to dooe,
As the wyll of the hert, shall wyll hym vnto.
And let not the foote, make murmur and cry.
To aske why our head, is placed so hye.
Our instrument iaeres, it makes no ryght melody,
If we thus tune not to order our armony.
Then mayster when, when bothe you and I,
And euery man els wyl learne to applye,
To our ryght metyarde, and kepe oure iust compasse,
And looke not so deepe in an other mannes glasse.
And leaue dreaming dreames of dead Dauid Dicar,
And send such whens home, to our person or vicar.
And ther wyth remember, thys verse of Cato,
Whose wysdom doth warne vs, with these wordes I trowe.
Que íoles culpare, ea'tu ipse: ne feceris. when wee marke this nipse,
And leaue drawyng diales, on other mens dooyng
And learne for to looke to our owne woorkes and brewynge
Then I say then, when yon agayn when:
will say well your selfe, and suche other men,
And all folke wyll doo well. Lo thus I ende then,
All thynges shall bee well, whiche god graunt. Amen.
whē fools of your folly, will worke lyke wyse men,
And know theyr owne fautes and leaue faulting other.
And fyrst mēde thē selues, and then warne theyr brother,
Enuiyng none, for that theyr sorte is not
Such as they would be, lyke others I wot.
Goddes of degree, to rule and beare swaye,
whose maners mete not, to stand in such stay,
And yet wold haue mouthes, to rore like the Lyon
Beyng but Asses brute of cōdicion
forgettynge that order doth thus aske and craue,
That eche should hym selfe in order behaue.
As baestes of lowe sorte, to be mek of theyr mynde,
To those that be hygher, and greater of kynde.
The Bore not to bragge, to stryue wyth the Lyon.
The Hart not to stand, with the Bull in contention,
The Oxe that doth draw, to thyncke hym selfe able,
To runne for a wager, with the Horse of the stable.
It grees not, it cordes not, nor orderly fyttes
That men should fynd fault, with Gods and theyr wyttes
Iupiters seate standes some what to hye.
For vs to iudge it, that come it not nye.
And iudgementes or gesse, in any such sorte,
May serue to the Gods, for a laughter and sporte
To iuste at the life, of Iuli apostata,
Let Beastes that be meete, for carte and caryage,
Leane to theyr laboure, as manne to hys maryage.
And synce we be members of one common wealthe.
Let vs ioyne aptly, as fyttes for our health.
The eye as the eye, let hym stare and looke,
And let the leg learne, to bow and to crooke.
Let the hand answere, to help and to dooe,
As the wyll of the hert, shall wyll hym vnto.
And let not the foote, make murmur and cry.
To aske why our head, is placed so hye.
Our instrument iaeres, it makes no ryght melody,
If we thus tune not to order our armony.
Then mayster when, when bothe you and I,
And euery man els wyl learne to applye,
To our ryght metyarde, and kepe oure iust compasse,
And looke not so deepe in an other mannes glasse.
And leaue dreaming dreames of dead Dauid Dicar,
And send such whens home, to our person or vicar.
And ther wyth remember, thys verse of Cato,
Whose wysdom doth warne vs, with these wordes I trowe.
Que íoles culpare, ea'tu ipse: ne feceris. when wee marke this nipse,
And leaue drawyng diales, on other mens dooyng
And learne for to looke to our owne woorkes and brewynge
Then I say then, when yon agayn when:
will say well your selfe, and suche other men,
And all folke wyll doo well. Lo thus I ende then,
All thynges shall bee well, whiche god graunt. Amen.
The debate betwyn A Replication vnto Camels Obiection.
If right or reason, might moue you to speake,I wold not you blame, your malyce to wreake:
Or if your iudgement, were vp right and cleane,
You wold not so rudely, consture what I meane.
How should your foli, so plaily be knowne.
If that your wisdome, abrode were not blowne.
You byd me amende, whose life you know not.
As though that in you, there were not a spot.
A tale of a tubbe, you bragge and you brall,
Wherin you do rubbe, your self on the gall.
You touche not one poynt, wher of that I wrate.
You leape ore the hedge, and seeith not the gate,
I muse what yon meane, to discant and preache,
Upon a plaine song, so farre past your reache.
why Camell I say, wyl you needes be fyne?
what, wyll ye be knowne, for a durty deuine?
It seemes you are learned, past reason or wyt,
Or els you coulde not, ye mark so well hyt.
You haue so good laten, you can want no pewter,
Though ye are no foole, yet you are a newter.
You writ like a clerke, or seyene well in Cato,
Forgetting your name, which Therens cals Gnato.
I can do no lesse, but shew what you are,
Synce you ar a Daniel, dark dreames to declare.
Your knowledge is great, your iudgement is good,
The most of your study hath ben of Robyn hood.
And Beuys of Hampton, and syr Launcelot de lake,
Hath taught you full oft, your verses to make:
By sweete saīt Benet, I swere by no foole,
you are not to learne, you plyde well your scole.
you flocke and you flout, and smils in your sleeue.
I prayse you no more, lest you thinke I flatter,
I must now retourne, to thee pith of my matter.
How can you wel proue, that I do enuye,
At any estate, be they low or hye,
Or that I spye fauts, in Iupiters seate,
why are you so mad, on me thus to bleate,
It grees not, it cords not, it fyts not you say,
That men shuld find faut, with gods that bere sway
If plaine Dauy Dicar with wise men be skande,
He seaketh vprightly, I dare take in hande.
I write not so rashly, but I rule my pen.
In faith you mistake, Dauy Dicars, when,
you take chauke for chese, and day for darke night,
Of like you are spurblinde, or ye loke not a right:
you purpose I know, you were in such care,
Against this good tyme, your purs was full bare.
yon thought to optaine, some garment or gift,
Then dyd you inuent, to make a foule shift,
To flater the Gods, and get a new cote,
That made you to syng, so mery a note.
yon faine me like Iudas, you thinke me not so,
For if I were he, then you wold me know,
I beare not the bagge, that may you rewarde,
But yet my good wyll. I pray you regard.
you say that order, wold haue eche degree,
To walke in his calling: then how may this be,
That you out of frame, do blother and barke,
So lyke a curre dogge, at euery good warke.
Is this the order, that Camels do vse?
Bicause you are a beast, I must you exscuse.
I may you well call, synce so I you fynde:
Bicause you haue ratled, and railed to mytch,
Now giue me good leue, to claw you wher ye ytch.
And if that you thinke, I rub be you to sore,
Then giue me no cause, to scratch you no more.
Holde thys for certayn, and for asure thing,
The ofter you styrre me, the more I will styng.
Syns that you wyll nedes, a waken my wittes.
I wyll seeke for you, both snaf fuls and bittes.
To holde in your head, and make you to rayne.
And byte on the bridle, for angre and payne.
Then will I deuise, for you such a burthen.
As long as you liue, you shal beare a lurden:
A Camell by kinde, wil beare more at once.
Then .iii. great horses. pick-out for the nonce.
More meeter for yion, to be in some stable.
To beare heauy burthens, I thinke you more able.
Then being as you are, walking abrode.
Your limmes ar well made to carie a great lode:
All beastes that be made, for carte and cariage,
Shuld leane to their labour as man to his mariage.
with horses and Asses, you are well acquainted.
Their maners in ordere, right wel you haue painted.
I dout of your shape, some monster you are,
Bicause such a name, to me you declare.
Your wordes and your workes, ar tokens right sure.
You ar some brute beast, in mans forme and picture.
Right happy he were, yt had you in charge.
He shuld gaine moch money, to shew you at large.
what cause, or what toye, dyd trouble your mynde:
To make you seeke fauts, wher non you can finde,
You play on false stryngs which thing is vnmeete.
Your eare is not good, you know no sweete sounde.
You can not espie, where faut may be founde.
So farre out of tune, I neuer hearde none,
Nor so much past shame, nor yet so farre gone.
As you in this case, God sende you to amende.
Which seekes to learne me, to bow and to bend:
Direct well your steppes, by order and lyne.
and sclaunder me not, nor no workes of myne.
In all my writinges, right-honestly I ment.
If they betaken, to my true entent:
Thei shal breede no strife, nor no error sowe.
when truth shalbe tryde, and vertue shall floow.
Thus yet once to when, againe I returne.
Bicause yt you seeme, against it to spurne.
Untill this long, when, do well come to passe.
This world shalbe nought, & you shalbe an Asse.
Since you doo inuei, all vice to maintaine,
You shew that you haue, a folish light braine;
God send you more wit, now kepe your head warme.
Or els the next winter, mai doo you some harme.
Thus here I do enke, and rest for this time,
Excepte you procure me, to make a new rime.
Camels Reioindre, to Churchyarde.
To Churchiard or Mannarig, or for lak of a name:
To Dicar the dreamer, if you knowe the same.
To Dicar the dreamer, if you knowe the same.
Maye
a man be so bold (an order to kepe:)
To bid you good morow, now after your slepe?
If I may be so saucy, and make no mistaking.
God speede master Dreamer, yf you be wakynge.
But Dreamer or Dicar, or as you saye Dauy:
which shal I now cal you as our Lorde saue ye,
Three names are to many for one man alone:
And two mo makes fyue, for faylyng of one
If you had two other ye men myght you seeke:
Then had you a name, for eche daye in the weeke.
But no man dothe doubte, that so sundrye name:
Shuld haue other lōmyng then out of good frames.
And the fore I thyncke, they come euery chone:
Out of some old house, tho the postes begone
Or els kept in memory, for that they were founde:
In some old stocke, in som noble mans grounde.
And so do remayne, for mynde of our auncestry:
As Syb to Sybbel, sibbes verye properly.
So Iermaines lyps ioynde, and so M. Churchyard:
And Mannaryng met, both in an Orcharde.
And Dauid the Dicar, came in with his spade:
And dolue vp ye Dreamer, tyl the line was made.
And thus percōsequēce, sins your writing doth gre it:
Youre name for my parte: Dauid Dreademer be it.
And good M. dreademer, your reasō lōg sought for.
Hath combred your capax, I se very sore.
Snap of the case, & yong and whot bloude:
Haue all to be fumed you, and moued your moode.
That daunger it were, in you of a feeuer
If heate & coller, shoulde cuple together.
But thankes be to God, a vomet hat rydde:
A culpin of collops, farre inwardly hydde.
And now that your reasō, hath fair brought it fourth
It is a fayre reason, and a reason well wourth.
And fyrst you reply, to myn obieccion:
With wordes of pleasure, as a man of correccion.
Wherbi you would seeme, a learned man of arte:
And yet Master Mome, you are out of your parte
For as your aūswer, doth but tatele and tomble:
So you aunswer not me, but rayle out and romble.
And yet had you markte, my then to your when:
I no more falted you, then I dyd other men.
I meane mad taungers, that so raunge at large:
To medle with matters, not ioynd to their charge.
And such men I bad, as then I had you:
To send such whēs home, theyr vicar vnto.
And leaue dreaminge drames, to busi mens braines:
wyth nedeles matters, & as thankeles paynes.
And thys lytle neded, to haue netled your noddye,
If you were (as you wold be) som prety wise body.
But you wyl choplogick, and be Bee to busse:
but good Master Busserd, be good yet to vs.
And tel me in truth, and lye no whit then:
Haue not I touched, no parte of your when?
If you styl dreame not, as you do yet:
I trowe I haue touched, your when euery whit.
I nede not to byd you, turne my text againe.
But take your owne text, to aunswer your brayne.
I toutch not one poynte, that you wrote you saye:
And yet you cal me, a Daniell strayghtway.
Lo how these two now agree in themselues:
They both sham their master these .ii. eluish elues.
If you gyue me a name wythout an effect:
Your mastershyps brayne is madly infect.
And foule ouershot, to brīg two for wytnesse:
Whiche are in themselues cleane contrarie I gesse.
But if my fyrst aunswer, doo seeme such a mistery:
That you se not your whē, ther aunswer alredye
Then to awake you, and rayse you from slepe.
Good master Dreamer, marke this and take kepe.
your whē hath in it, a meanyng of who say,
which ryghtly to meane, is thus ment I say:
That whē those things be, which these dais be not.
Then knit you your thē vp in such sort as you wot.
But whome you accuse, in whenning so large.
I meane not to open, nor put to your charge.
But way with your self, & sober your braines:
And defend not a when, mighte put you to paines.
I coulde perchaunce, make your when larger.
And serue it before you, as brode as a charger.
And point you your when by lyne and by Leuel.
Againste Iupiters seate, & Iupiters Counsell.
But I list not so narow, to loke to your whanning.
Nor make to your whanning, so open a skanning,
You bid me not slaunder, you I slaunder you not.
If your self hurt you, your owne is the spot.
You ascribe to me, the māners of Gnato.
Full clarkelye applyed good master Thrato
A tytle as meete, they saye that doo knowe me.
As your title of dreame, to the matter of Dauye.
But vices in stage plaies, when theyr matter is gon.
They laughe oute the reste to the lookers on.
And so wantinge matter, you brynge in my coate.
In faithe master dreamer, I borowed it not.
Tho I haue hearde, that good fellowes and so.
Not you (goddes forbod) in borowed geare go,
But whē euery foule, hath puld home his fether.
The soule and the body, may then dwel together
And make a right sommer man, to iet in the heate
For clothes in whot wetther, do but mak mē sweat
whiche you sir perchaunce, er sommer come out:
wyl vse for a medecine, in trauailinge aboute,
And colloure the matter, with a tule of season:
As doutles your mastership, hath very god reason
By which all yt know you, will thinke you well hable
To thrust a poore Camel, to lurke in some stable.
And doubtles if dreaming may eny thinge spede,
I knowe Dauid dreamer, wyl do it in dede,
But tho I haue hearde, a Lyon oft rore,
I neuer hearde asse, so rore oute before.
With bitings & bridellings and raining of necks.
O fine master asse, howe sharpe be your cheekes.
You threatene to bitte me, to trim me and trick me.
With master asse. what wyl you nedes kick me.
Camelles and asses, be both mete for burden
Then gip fellowe asse, then iast fellowe lurden.
No nerer my buthoke, iast iade are you winsyng:
It is mery to see, master asse fal to minsyng.
Dyd you neuer here tell of the asse trapt in golde?
Lo maste asenoll, lo do as you shulde.
You saye I knowe you not, and yet as I trowe:
You caste your olde coat a greate whyle ago.
But if I mistake you, for that a newe springe,
Hath wrought as a work mā, to geue you a new skin
And that I may not, now know you by eare mark.
Then for a mor knowledg to know you in dark.
Tye a Bel at your tayle, to make sometinginge.
And ther goes the asse (I shal say) by the ringing.
But whether I know you or els do not knowe:
Thus muche I knowe, and am certaine I trowe:
An asse bindes no camels, tho he braye neure so loud.
Robin hode so shewed me, out of a cloude.
And when asses forget, to know what they are,
Sir Launcelot then biddes, to nip them more nar.
And Beniz of Hampton, whose clergy I knowe:
Biddes me serue you with the sams sede you sow.
And not to contende, for the asses shadowe.
Whose shadowe I leaue you, and bodye also.
And thus. M. dreamer your folli hath brought me
To followe you further, then first I bethought me
Beineg muche sorie, my pē so to spende.
To answere your follyes, and thus lo I ende.
To bid you good morow, now after your slepe?
If I may be so saucy, and make no mistaking.
God speede master Dreamer, yf you be wakynge.
But Dreamer or Dicar, or as you saye Dauy:
which shal I now cal you as our Lorde saue ye,
Three names are to many for one man alone:
And two mo makes fyue, for faylyng of one
If you had two other ye men myght you seeke:
Then had you a name, for eche daye in the weeke.
But no man dothe doubte, that so sundrye name:
Shuld haue other lōmyng then out of good frames.
And the fore I thyncke, they come euery chone:
Out of some old house, tho the postes begone
Or els kept in memory, for that they were founde:
In some old stocke, in som noble mans grounde.
And so do remayne, for mynde of our auncestry:
As Syb to Sybbel, sibbes verye properly.
So Iermaines lyps ioynde, and so M. Churchyard:
And Mannaryng met, both in an Orcharde.
And Dauid the Dicar, came in with his spade:
And dolue vp ye Dreamer, tyl the line was made.
And thus percōsequēce, sins your writing doth gre it:
Youre name for my parte: Dauid Dreademer be it.
And good M. dreademer, your reasō lōg sought for.
Hath combred your capax, I se very sore.
Snap of the case, & yong and whot bloude:
Haue all to be fumed you, and moued your moode.
That daunger it were, in you of a feeuer
If heate & coller, shoulde cuple together.
But thankes be to God, a vomet hat rydde:
A culpin of collops, farre inwardly hydde.
It is a fayre reason, and a reason well wourth.
And fyrst you reply, to myn obieccion:
With wordes of pleasure, as a man of correccion.
Wherbi you would seeme, a learned man of arte:
And yet Master Mome, you are out of your parte
For as your aūswer, doth but tatele and tomble:
So you aunswer not me, but rayle out and romble.
And yet had you markte, my then to your when:
I no more falted you, then I dyd other men.
I meane mad taungers, that so raunge at large:
To medle with matters, not ioynd to their charge.
And such men I bad, as then I had you:
To send such whēs home, theyr vicar vnto.
And leaue dreaminge drames, to busi mens braines:
wyth nedeles matters, & as thankeles paynes.
And thys lytle neded, to haue netled your noddye,
If you were (as you wold be) som prety wise body.
But you wyl choplogick, and be Bee to busse:
but good Master Busserd, be good yet to vs.
And tel me in truth, and lye no whit then:
Haue not I touched, no parte of your when?
If you styl dreame not, as you do yet:
I trowe I haue touched, your when euery whit.
I nede not to byd you, turne my text againe.
But take your owne text, to aunswer your brayne.
I toutch not one poynte, that you wrote you saye:
And yet you cal me, a Daniell strayghtway.
Lo how these two now agree in themselues:
They both sham their master these .ii. eluish elues.
If you gyue me a name wythout an effect:
And foule ouershot, to brīg two for wytnesse:
Whiche are in themselues cleane contrarie I gesse.
But if my fyrst aunswer, doo seeme such a mistery:
That you se not your whē, ther aunswer alredye
Then to awake you, and rayse you from slepe.
Good master Dreamer, marke this and take kepe.
your whē hath in it, a meanyng of who say,
which ryghtly to meane, is thus ment I say:
That whē those things be, which these dais be not.
Then knit you your thē vp in such sort as you wot.
But whome you accuse, in whenning so large.
I meane not to open, nor put to your charge.
But way with your self, & sober your braines:
And defend not a when, mighte put you to paines.
I coulde perchaunce, make your when larger.
And serue it before you, as brode as a charger.
And point you your when by lyne and by Leuel.
Againste Iupiters seate, & Iupiters Counsell.
But I list not so narow, to loke to your whanning.
Nor make to your whanning, so open a skanning,
You bid me not slaunder, you I slaunder you not.
If your self hurt you, your owne is the spot.
You ascribe to me, the māners of Gnato.
Full clarkelye applyed good master Thrato
A tytle as meete, they saye that doo knowe me.
As your title of dreame, to the matter of Dauye.
But vices in stage plaies, when theyr matter is gon.
They laughe oute the reste to the lookers on.
And so wantinge matter, you brynge in my coate.
In faithe master dreamer, I borowed it not.
Tho I haue hearde, that good fellowes and so.
But whē euery foule, hath puld home his fether.
The soule and the body, may then dwel together
And make a right sommer man, to iet in the heate
For clothes in whot wetther, do but mak mē sweat
whiche you sir perchaunce, er sommer come out:
wyl vse for a medecine, in trauailinge aboute,
And colloure the matter, with a tule of season:
As doutles your mastership, hath very god reason
By which all yt know you, will thinke you well hable
To thrust a poore Camel, to lurke in some stable.
And doubtles if dreaming may eny thinge spede,
I knowe Dauid dreamer, wyl do it in dede,
But tho I haue hearde, a Lyon oft rore,
I neuer hearde asse, so rore oute before.
With bitings & bridellings and raining of necks.
O fine master asse, howe sharpe be your cheekes.
You threatene to bitte me, to trim me and trick me.
With master asse. what wyl you nedes kick me.
Camelles and asses, be both mete for burden
Then gip fellowe asse, then iast fellowe lurden.
No nerer my buthoke, iast iade are you winsyng:
It is mery to see, master asse fal to minsyng.
Dyd you neuer here tell of the asse trapt in golde?
Lo maste asenoll, lo do as you shulde.
You saye I knowe you not, and yet as I trowe:
You caste your olde coat a greate whyle ago.
But if I mistake you, for that a newe springe,
Hath wrought as a work mā, to geue you a new skin
And that I may not, now know you by eare mark.
Then for a mor knowledg to know you in dark.
Tye a Bel at your tayle, to make sometinginge.
But whether I know you or els do not knowe:
Thus muche I knowe, and am certaine I trowe:
An asse bindes no camels, tho he braye neure so loud.
Robin hode so shewed me, out of a cloude.
And when asses forget, to know what they are,
Sir Launcelot then biddes, to nip them more nar.
And Beniz of Hampton, whose clergy I knowe:
Biddes me serue you with the sams sede you sow.
And not to contende, for the asses shadowe.
Whose shadowe I leaue you, and bodye also.
And thus. M. dreamer your folli hath brought me
To followe you further, then first I bethought me
Beineg muche sorie, my pē so to spende.
To answere your follyes, and thus lo I ende.
The Surreioindre vnto Camels reioindre
What lyfe may lyue, long vndefamde, what works may be so pureWhat vertuous thing, may florish so ye fautles may, endur
What things be past, or yet to come, that freely may reioyce,
Or who can saye he is so iust, he feares not slādrous voyce.
This Slaunderous peals, doth ring so loud, he soūndes in euery eare,
whose craft can fayn, such pleasaunt tunes, as truth wer present theare.
But it is falshed, fraught with fraude, & synges a note to hye,
Though that he bring, some plesaunt poyntes, for to maintayn a lye.
The simple wyts, ar soone begylde, through sclaunderes sweete deceayt,
But those that knowes, suche fishing hokes, shal sone perceyue the bayt.
Unto whose eares, and iudgegements eke, I doo commende my workes,
with healpe of truthe, I hope to flee, ye venome of this Beast.
Or els I trust, in his owne turne, to cast him at the least.
Although he whet, his teeth at me, and styngs me with his tonge,
Yet with the iust, I am content, to learne to suffre wrong
Synce Princes peares, and Kyngs themselues, their Acts and godly lawes.
Are sclaundred oft, through euyltonges, and blamed without cawes.
Looke what is doone, & truly mēt, to put thīgs in good stay
Are wrested, & peruerted oft, by euylltonge I say.
The Preachers voyce, which threineth wrath, the synfull to reduse.
Doth purchase hate, for tellyng truth: lo, this is mans abuse.
The chylde doth blame, the byrchē rod, whose stryps may not be sparde.
Bicause his wits, vnto his welth, hath verismal regard
The wiked sort, whose vice is knowne, by those which writes their lyues.
Can not abyde, to heare their fauts, but styll against theym striues.
The horse can not abyde the whyp, bycause it mends his pace,
Thus eche thinge hates, his punishement, we see before our face,
Therfore I blame, this man the lesse, whiche sclandreth me so much.
And casteth venome, lyke the Tode, bicause his fautes I touch:
What cause in me, what hate in him, what mattier hath he sought,
within this Dauy Dicars Dreame, whiche for the best was wrought.
Unto the good, it is not yll, nor hurtfull vnto none.
Nor vnto those, that loues ye lyght, it is no stūblyng stone.
But thos that stāds, to watch a time, the innocent to spyll,
Out of the sweete, and fayrest floure, the spider poysō takes.
And yet the Bee, doth feede theron, & ther wt hony makes.
The Caterpiller, spils the fruit, whiche God made for mans foode,
The fly lyke wyse, wher he dothe blow, dothe styll more harme than good.
Thus may you see, as men doo take, ye things wherō thei loke
They may it turne, to good or bad, as they applye the booke
But euery man, to his owne worke, an honest menīg hath.
Or els those hasty, sclanders tonges, might do good men moch scath.
He feeles moch ease, that suffere can, all thynges as they doo hap.
who makes a pyt, for other men, may fall in his own trap
who flynges a stone, at euery dooge, which barketh in the strete,
Shal neuer hau, a iust reuēg nor haue a pacient sprete.
Therfore I suffre, all your wordes, which is mine enemi knowne,
I could you serue, with taunting tearmes, and feede you with your owne.
But I mīde not to chock your tale, before the worst be tolde.
Then may I haue, fre choyce and leaue, to shew you wher you scolde.
Good syr if I shulde you salute, as you saluted me.
Then skuld I call you, Dauy too, and so perchauce you bee.
Ye multiplye, fyue names of one, a progeny you make.
As your desent, dyd comme from thence, wher of you lately spake.
Though such as you, haue nyck named me, in gest and halfe in scorne,
Churchiard I am, in Shrewisbury towne, thei say wher I was borne
You put your name, to others works, ye weklings to be gild.
Me thinke you are, somwhat to younge, to father such child
The truthe ther of, is eeth to know, a blynd mā may discus
You say, I did not aunswer you: I could no mattier finde
Nor yet can see, excepte I shulde, at folli wast my minde
The gretest shame, and most reproch, that any man may haue,
Is for to write, or scoulde with fooles, hose nature is to raue.
Synce railing rims, orcoms your wits, talke on and bable styll,
I not entende, about suche chats, my pē nor speche to spil.
I neither fume, nor chaunge my moode, at ought that you haue sayde.
The world may iudge, your railyng tong, full like a beast hath brayd.
And where you say, you can poynt out, by lyne and leuell both.
Of all the, whens, of Dycars dreame, you say you knowe the troth.
It is a wilfull ignoraunce, to hyde, I knowe full well,
I faute, agaynst Iuppiters seate, or agaynst his counsell.
You shew yourselfe, not Iupiters frende, if you can truly proue.
A faute in me, & doeth it hyde for feare or yet for loue.
As for my works, & thankles paynes, in this & such lik case.
I shall be redi to defende, whē you shall hide your face.
Thīke you I feare, what you cā do, my groūde is iust & true
On euery worde, which I did speak, I fore not what ye brue
Fyll all your chargers, as ye list, and dishes euery chone,
when they be full, and rūneth ore, I will cast you a bone.
whiche shall be harde, for you to pyke, though that your wits be fyne,
I can sone put you out of sqar from your leuell and lyne:
I wyll not answere word for worde, to your reioindre yet,
Because I fynde no matter there, nor yet no poynt of wyt,
But brabling blasts, and frātike fyts, & chyding in ye ayre,
Why doo you fret thus with yourself, fye man do not dispayre:
I thinke you shuld be right wel kept, if you be frended theare:
If you were scourged once a day, and fed with some warm meate.
You wolde come to your self again, after this rage of heate
This may be said without offēce, if ye your wyts you had
You wolde not lye nor rail on me, nor fare as you wer mad.
But as it is a true prouerbe: ye threatned man lyues long,
Your words cā neither hang nor draw, I feare not your yl tong.
The world is such it doth cōtempne, all those that vertue haue.
An euell tong hath no respect whose name he doth depraue
what is the cause of mortall food, which dothe in frendes arise,
But comenly these sclaunder tonges, whiche still delyts in lyes:
who maketh war, who soweth strife, who brīgeh Realmes to ruine:
But plenty, pride and euell tonges, whose voyce is nere in tune,
The roote and branche and chefeest groūde, of mischeefs all and some,
Is euyll tongues, whose sugred words, hath wyse mē ouercome,
The proofe wher of you put in vse, your words ye frame and set,
To creepe into some noble hertes, a credit for to get.
The eatyng worme within ye nut, ye sweetest curnell seke,
So doo you drawe where gayne is got, and there you looke full meeke.
But vnder those fayr angels loks is hyd a deuelish minde
I durst lay oddes who trust you long, ful false he shall you finde.
Now to returne vnto thee cause, whiche made you first to write,
You shew your selfe to be a foole, to answer me in spite.
Is not well worth when fruit is cheape, ye paring of a peare
Your sodain stormes and thūdre claps, your boasts and braggs so loude.
Hath doone no harme thogh Robyn Hood, spake with you in a cloud.
Go learne againe of litell Ihō, to shute in Robyn Hods bowe,
Or Dicars dreame shalbe vnhit, and all his, whens, I trowe,
Thus hear I leaue, I lyst not write, to aunswere wher you rayle:
He is vnwise that striues wt fooles, wher words can not preuayle.
A Decree betwene Churchyarde and Camell.
A decree vpon the dreame made by Dauy Dicare,
with answer to Camel, whose tauntes be more quicker.
with answer to Camel, whose tauntes be more quicker.
Wher
Dicar hath dreamed of thinges out of frame.
And Churchiarde by writing affirmeth the same,
And Camell contendeth, the same to deface,
And therfore hath put hys doynges in place.
Sythe both of those twayne hath set foorth in myter
The wordes of the Authour, skyll of the wryghter.
And rune in this race, styll chaffyng the bytte.
I thynke in thys case muche more then is fytte.
I myndyng as much as lyeth in me.
To mak them both, as mone to agree
Haue taken in hande ye dream to defende
And so to recite theyr race to the ende.
Not so to approue my learning or skill
But onely because it be commeth them yll.
From riming to rayling so ofte to dygresse,
wher as reason and wyt doth wil nothing lesse.
As Dicar hath dreamed so time out of minde,
Some thynges were amys, that some men dyd fynde,
If al thynges were wel, as I woulde god they were,
we shoulde not be plaged frō yeare vnto yeare,
If all men do ryght, what nedeth the lawe,
what nede any iustice to hāge and to drawe,
If no man be wronged nor wydowe oppressed,
Then nedeth no care to haue it redressed,
If no man wil vēter to robbe or to steale,
O England thou hast a good common weale.
If no man do hurde nor hydeth in store,
Then England shall haue no dearth any more
If no man offend by way of excesse.
Then grace doth abound, the fault is the lesse,
If the lustes of the fleshe be pute oute of vre
The world is amended the people be pure.
If the poore and the nedye be daylye reliued,
what man is so mad, therat to be greued?
If no man do slaunder nor styre vp debate,
Then Dicar I thinke hath dreamed to late.
If no mā do flater, nor fawne for againe.
Then may it appeare this dreame is but vain.
If all thing be wel, and in the ryght waye,
why do they not vse good lawes to obey.
If no man defraude in bying nor sellyng.
Then happy is England, for ther is best dwellyng.
If faith be vnfained, and wordes do once bynde,
The dreame is all false, and so ye may finde.
If truth do take place and in all thinges encreasse,
dreame no more Dicar, but lette thy dreame ceasse,
If this be not so then Camell to you.
I feare me thys dreame wyll proue to be true.
For it is not so geeson withe vs for to heare,
But the effect of thee dreame doth dayly appeare.
And euery man is now in such takinge,
It passeth a dreme, they finde it out waking
If you be suche a one as neuer had peere,
Then are you fauty in none of this geere.
But seyng your writyng doth seme some what quycke,
You seme that ye smarted because ye did kycke.
Yet when the dreame was to printing dyrected,
I thincke of the dreamer ye were not suspected.
And where as you contende it doth not belonge,
For Dicar to dreame of right haue or of wronge.
In ded you dooe well yf you done amis,
To shewe him his faulte, and say thus it is,
And if you so well know what doth Dicar behoue,
Then ought you to shewe the same to approue.
But me thincketh you want a frendli good will.
To deface a good matter though the authour wer ill.
And certes of you both indifferentli to tell
I cannot in your railinges cōmend your doings well.
And both of you twaine are yet to me vnknowen,
Yet can I aide your doinges, as if they were mine own,
Ye passe from your purpose in such vnworthi sorte.
Ye make of your doinges a very laughing sporte.
Ye close and ye glose, in seking to be fine,
Ye taunt and retaunt al most in eueri line.
Ye affirme ye haue red both Terence and Cato,
Ye coūt ye do but faletrye wel resemble Gnato.
And looke howe much differs a Foxe from a foole,
Su much do you differ from Cato and his scole,
For Cato doth affyrme ther is no greater shame,
Then to reproue a vyce, and your selues to do thee same.
And because I wyl not seeme your fancy to embrace,
As touching your debate, I answer in this case.
Me thinketh in wrytynge ye both haue such skyll,
Ye marre a good matter and make it very yll.
wherby to say the truth it appeareth well vnto me,
Your names and your wytts vnnumerable be.
Therfore do not thinke that ye can be forborne.
But such as be readers shall laugh you to scorne.
And when that your doynges be throughly perused,
Then by the same deedes ye shalbe accused.
Cease nowe in season cast all contempt away,
Be subiect vnto reasō, & make no more delay.
And eyther of you twane do not refuse to knowe,
As Cato doth enstructe you but strayght embrace it so
which though my skil be smal here thought I to reherse
The text and sence wythe all of euery kynde of verse.
And Churchiarde by writing affirmeth the same,
And Camell contendeth, the same to deface,
And therfore hath put hys doynges in place.
Sythe both of those twayne hath set foorth in myter
The wordes of the Authour, skyll of the wryghter.
And rune in this race, styll chaffyng the bytte.
I thynke in thys case muche more then is fytte.
I myndyng as much as lyeth in me.
To mak them both, as mone to agree
Haue taken in hande ye dream to defende
And so to recite theyr race to the ende.
Not so to approue my learning or skill
But onely because it be commeth them yll.
wher as reason and wyt doth wil nothing lesse.
As Dicar hath dreamed so time out of minde,
Some thynges were amys, that some men dyd fynde,
If al thynges were wel, as I woulde god they were,
we shoulde not be plaged frō yeare vnto yeare,
If all men do ryght, what nedeth the lawe,
what nede any iustice to hāge and to drawe,
If no man be wronged nor wydowe oppressed,
Then nedeth no care to haue it redressed,
If no man wil vēter to robbe or to steale,
O England thou hast a good common weale.
If no man do hurde nor hydeth in store,
Then England shall haue no dearth any more
If no man offend by way of excesse.
Then grace doth abound, the fault is the lesse,
If the lustes of the fleshe be pute oute of vre
The world is amended the people be pure.
If the poore and the nedye be daylye reliued,
what man is so mad, therat to be greued?
If no man do slaunder nor styre vp debate,
Then Dicar I thinke hath dreamed to late.
If no mā do flater, nor fawne for againe.
Then may it appeare this dreame is but vain.
If all thing be wel, and in the ryght waye,
why do they not vse good lawes to obey.
If no man defraude in bying nor sellyng.
Then happy is England, for ther is best dwellyng.
If faith be vnfained, and wordes do once bynde,
The dreame is all false, and so ye may finde.
If truth do take place and in all thinges encreasse,
dreame no more Dicar, but lette thy dreame ceasse,
I feare me thys dreame wyll proue to be true.
For it is not so geeson withe vs for to heare,
But the effect of thee dreame doth dayly appeare.
And euery man is now in such takinge,
It passeth a dreme, they finde it out waking
If you be suche a one as neuer had peere,
Then are you fauty in none of this geere.
But seyng your writyng doth seme some what quycke,
You seme that ye smarted because ye did kycke.
Yet when the dreame was to printing dyrected,
I thincke of the dreamer ye were not suspected.
And where as you contende it doth not belonge,
For Dicar to dreame of right haue or of wronge.
In ded you dooe well yf you done amis,
To shewe him his faulte, and say thus it is,
And if you so well know what doth Dicar behoue,
Then ought you to shewe the same to approue.
But me thincketh you want a frendli good will.
To deface a good matter though the authour wer ill.
And certes of you both indifferentli to tell
I cannot in your railinges cōmend your doings well.
And both of you twaine are yet to me vnknowen,
Yet can I aide your doinges, as if they were mine own,
Ye passe from your purpose in such vnworthi sorte.
Ye make of your doinges a very laughing sporte.
Ye close and ye glose, in seking to be fine,
Ye taunt and retaunt al most in eueri line.
Ye affirme ye haue red both Terence and Cato,
Ye coūt ye do but faletrye wel resemble Gnato.
And looke howe much differs a Foxe from a foole,
Su much do you differ from Cato and his scole,
Then to reproue a vyce, and your selues to do thee same.
And because I wyl not seeme your fancy to embrace,
As touching your debate, I answer in this case.
Me thinketh in wrytynge ye both haue such skyll,
Ye marre a good matter and make it very yll.
wherby to say the truth it appeareth well vnto me,
Your names and your wytts vnnumerable be.
Therfore do not thinke that ye can be forborne.
But such as be readers shall laugh you to scorne.
And when that your doynges be throughly perused,
Then by the same deedes ye shalbe accused.
Cease nowe in season cast all contempt away,
Be subiect vnto reasō, & make no more delay.
And eyther of you twane do not refuse to knowe,
As Cato doth enstructe you but strayght embrace it so
which though my skil be smal here thought I to reherse
The text and sence wythe all of euery kynde of verse.
Contra verbosos noli contendere nerbis.
Sermo datur cunctis auimi sapiencia paucis,
Cum recte viuas ne cures verba malorum.
Arbitri nostri non est quid quisque loquatnr.
Sermo datur cunctis auimi sapiencia paucis,
Cum recte viuas ne cures verba malorum.
Arbitri nostri non est quid quisque loquatnr.
To striue with men of many words, refrain I the aduise
It is not geuen to euery man that he shalbe godlye wyse.
If thou lyue well do not regarde what wicked mē do say
For whir it lyeth not in vs such wycked tounges to staye
Thys is it that ye haue read whiche if you lyst to knowe.
He wyll aswage your strudy stormes which you haue reised so
Take this in worth good Reder now expound it to ye best:
For I haue sayd to theyr deuyce, now harcken to the rest.
It is not geuen to euery man that he shalbe godlye wyse.
If thou lyue well do not regarde what wicked mē do say
For whir it lyeth not in vs such wycked tounges to staye
Thys is it that ye haue read whiche if you lyst to knowe.
He wyll aswage your strudy stormes which you haue reised so
Take this in worth good Reder now expound it to ye best:
For I haue sayd to theyr deuyce, now harcken to the rest.
The iudgement of the Authour.
Some thyng is a mys and euer shalbe soScripture writeth thys as learned men do knowe.
And some men haue the gyft therof to speake and wryte
which fal yet at a lyfte to frail and fonde delyte.
It doth behoue vs al so iustly as we canne,
To do right wel in dede, and eke to wryte it thanne.
How be it, in hym I iudge muche greater faulte, there is
whiche noght can saye nor do, but that which is a mys.
The best may be amēded, and that is very true
The moore that haue offended, the more we ought to rue
If any fall from grace gentelly hym assayle,
Burden him wyth charity, no rygour can preuaile,
For why, if that the shepherde do wander from the waye,
No maruell if the shepe therafter go astraye
Some men perhappe ther be wyl take me to the wourst,
I pray you iudge of me, as I spake it at the fyrst
For it becommeth yll in writting to contende,
without wytte or skyll to mak a rayling ende
Take me to the best, as one to you vnknowen,
Whose worthy wits I do cōmend & wold with you be one.
Not minding so assuredli to spende and waste the daie,
To make the people laugh at me, and here I make a staye,
Westerne Wyll,
Upon the debate betuyxte Churchyarde and Camell
Rowe thy bote thou ioli ioli mariner, and wind well vp thy sayle,
For thou mightest neuer wīd it vp better thine own self for to auaille.
For thou mightest neuer wīd it vp better thine own self for to auaille.
There
ware thre meri mariners, that dwel in Maldon meade
That coulde skil of winde and ryde, of canell and of streame
And eke theyr compasse well directe, from euery shore and steade
And ware acqueinted with ye rockes, and sandes the myght them queame
Frō Maldon hauen to Billin Reigate, aswel I vndertake
As any thre of many yeres, in the course that vsed to make.
A Craier had they prest to sail and all their takle yare
And al their fraught ybrought a borde; to wende to Maldon towne
But for the winde was not ye best, before they forth wolde fare
They thought ye citie for to rowne, and viewe it vp & downe
If thing vncouth they there might fynde, wher with to moue some glee
Whē they came home to Maldon meade, amonge their companie.
To Poules they hied as place most fytte, for newes in their deuice
Amonge the printers gan they searche, and busilye enquire
For thinges that might for Noueltie, at hō be had in price
The printer sayd he thought he had, to pleasen theyr desyre
And drewe then nere into his shoppe, and gan vnfolde then light
A rolle of Rithimes, wher of the fyrst, the dickers dreame it hyght.
Then folowed aunswere to this dreame, to Dauie dickers whan
A solempne processe at a blusshe, be quoted here & there
With matter in thee margent set, wheron to gase they gan
But they ne wist for ought I knewe, but hebrue yt it were
A Replication was the next, whiche well I vnderstoode
For yt I founde no worde ther in, but it was Englyshe good.
But loye here ye fourth quod he that maketh vp the messe
I warrant you a clarkely pece, se howe it is be deckte
(As selleres are not nowe to learne, their wares to praise I gesse)
The name ther of Reioyndre was a terme to them suspecte
Because it soūded of the lawe, as though somme case it warre.
Of ioyncture right for way warde wyues, to pleaden at the barre
But ay the printer pressed on, and take them all quod he
I notte your nammes, but brethren myne, I you assure can
They be as good as in this to wuin any shoppe there be
Our names quod he, and one stepped forth, a wight yonge watere man
Wylkin is my name, and this is watte, and Hermā high the thirde
As trusti and sure at tackle knotte, as euer with corde was gird.
Well Wilkin, Watte, an Herman gent, by all your names I sweare
Ye shall not nede vpon my worde, to stande in any doubt
A merier iest ye can not finde, a boord with you to beare
So will ye say your selues I knowe, when ye haue red it out.
But if ye be vnlearned to red, as mariners lyghtly be
Then yf ye lyst to harke a whyle, ye shall it heare of me.
For God swete bones quod watkyn tho, for bokyshe be we not
we knowe to halse, and stryke and vicre, and vp the anchore waye.
And cables folde, and clymbe to toppe, and then go tosse the potte
But if thou wylt of curtesy, of this vs som what say
By god mi peni shalbe twaine and theyrs shal make a grote.
Though we therfore shulde go to bed, at night with thirsti throte.
Nay then quod he Saynt George to borowe, the day is ours all.
Ye shall it heare eche lyne at length, but fyrst and wote ye what
The parties twaine betwene the whiche, this stryfe is nowe befall.
It me behoueth fyrst to tell, good order asketh that
wherfore a whyle gyue eare I pray, tyll I those twayne set out
And then ye may your fancye say, by turne eche one about.
This Diker sems a thryuing ladde, brough vp in pieres scole.
The plowman stoute, of whō I thynke ye haue full often harde.
A swynckyng swaine, that handleth wel his spade and other toole
Full loth hee ware for lake of hede, they shulde bee reckly marde
For why in them and in his hande, his lyuynge chefely standes
He bragges not of rentes fees ne of entayled landes
And yet he semeth a curtouse hind, & comen of good stocke
For Dikers feawe in my contrey, so well ythewed bene
I warraunt you who lyest him preue, he is no spritelesse bloke
But to my tale, In cockowe tyme when eche thing gan to grene
all weried from his worke, retournes this Dauy Diker hende
And for to ease him selfe the bet, full softely gan he wende.
Unto his house withī a groue a lytle there besyde
His bottle and his bagge, he hent, he left them not behinde
Wherin remayned but small surplus, of viande at that tyde
And downe he sate hym on the benche, of meate had lytle minde
But gan complaine his verinesse, and one his hande his bedde
He did arrest, and cleped wyfe as though he wolde to bedde.
Lo dame he sayd thou wotest I troue, that candle is to diere
To sytte vp late and praten out our thrift til farther night
And eke I nil no supper haue, lette be put out the fiere.
And haste we all to bed I saye, that ryse bee times we myght
And in he stepte, and sone he was vncased in his couche
And at his heade as was his wonte, he layed vp his pouche.
To wery labouring men, full swete doth seme such rest
He had not lyen lōge, but loud he gan to route
And softly by his syde his wyfe her selfe to bed adrest
The dogge, the cat, and syb the mayde, eche couchen them about.
Into their hernes where they warre wont, and al was huist and styll
And Dauy gan to Dreame his Dreame, as we deuysen wyll.
Then Wylkyn gan at once vp brayde, and sware by godes dyne harte
A rushe for bookes, me leuer warre that I could tel this tale
Then of your scablings for to haue, a loade by wayne or carte
Strawe for suche peltry, it is good to stuffe an empty male
I durst it take vpon my soule in all this lyther thinge
Is not a tale that may bee foūde so muche to my lykinge.
Yea yea quod wat, my selfe by gisse, in youth might this haue learned
If I so wyse or happie had bē to folowe my fathers wyll
who would haue spent vpon my scoole so muche as he had earned
But I was bent another waye, methought it very yl
All daye to rucken on my taile, and poren on a booke
It was nothing vnto my paye full soone I it forsoke.
But Herman here our other mate, it was a wytty elfe
Ado, ado, quod herman then & printer yet go forth
what was the Dreame that Dauy mette as he it tolde him selfe
For yet me thinketh by thy feare, that Dreame is somme what worth.
Content quod he gyue heare againe, and here me what I sayne.
I shall you reade this dreame a ryght, as here I fynde. it playne
That coulde skil of winde and ryde, of canell and of streame
And eke theyr compasse well directe, from euery shore and steade
And ware acqueinted with ye rockes, and sandes the myght them queame
Frō Maldon hauen to Billin Reigate, aswel I vndertake
As any thre of many yeres, in the course that vsed to make.
A Craier had they prest to sail and all their takle yare
And al their fraught ybrought a borde; to wende to Maldon towne
But for the winde was not ye best, before they forth wolde fare
They thought ye citie for to rowne, and viewe it vp & downe
If thing vncouth they there might fynde, wher with to moue some glee
Whē they came home to Maldon meade, amonge their companie.
To Poules they hied as place most fytte, for newes in their deuice
Amonge the printers gan they searche, and busilye enquire
For thinges that might for Noueltie, at hō be had in price
The printer sayd he thought he had, to pleasen theyr desyre
And drewe then nere into his shoppe, and gan vnfolde then light
A rolle of Rithimes, wher of the fyrst, the dickers dreame it hyght.
Then folowed aunswere to this dreame, to Dauie dickers whan
A solempne processe at a blusshe, be quoted here & there
With matter in thee margent set, wheron to gase they gan
But they ne wist for ought I knewe, but hebrue yt it were
A Replication was the next, whiche well I vnderstoode
For yt I founde no worde ther in, but it was Englyshe good.
But loye here ye fourth quod he that maketh vp the messe
(As selleres are not nowe to learne, their wares to praise I gesse)
The name ther of Reioyndre was a terme to them suspecte
Because it soūded of the lawe, as though somme case it warre.
Of ioyncture right for way warde wyues, to pleaden at the barre
But ay the printer pressed on, and take them all quod he
I notte your nammes, but brethren myne, I you assure can
They be as good as in this to wuin any shoppe there be
Our names quod he, and one stepped forth, a wight yonge watere man
Wylkin is my name, and this is watte, and Hermā high the thirde
As trusti and sure at tackle knotte, as euer with corde was gird.
Well Wilkin, Watte, an Herman gent, by all your names I sweare
Ye shall not nede vpon my worde, to stande in any doubt
A merier iest ye can not finde, a boord with you to beare
So will ye say your selues I knowe, when ye haue red it out.
But if ye be vnlearned to red, as mariners lyghtly be
Then yf ye lyst to harke a whyle, ye shall it heare of me.
For God swete bones quod watkyn tho, for bokyshe be we not
we knowe to halse, and stryke and vicre, and vp the anchore waye.
And cables folde, and clymbe to toppe, and then go tosse the potte
But if thou wylt of curtesy, of this vs som what say
By god mi peni shalbe twaine and theyrs shal make a grote.
Though we therfore shulde go to bed, at night with thirsti throte.
Nay then quod he Saynt George to borowe, the day is ours all.
Ye shall it heare eche lyne at length, but fyrst and wote ye what
It me behoueth fyrst to tell, good order asketh that
wherfore a whyle gyue eare I pray, tyll I those twayne set out
And then ye may your fancye say, by turne eche one about.
This Diker sems a thryuing ladde, brough vp in pieres scole.
The plowman stoute, of whō I thynke ye haue full often harde.
A swynckyng swaine, that handleth wel his spade and other toole
Full loth hee ware for lake of hede, they shulde bee reckly marde
For why in them and in his hande, his lyuynge chefely standes
He bragges not of rentes fees ne of entayled landes
And yet he semeth a curtouse hind, & comen of good stocke
For Dikers feawe in my contrey, so well ythewed bene
I warraunt you who lyest him preue, he is no spritelesse bloke
But to my tale, In cockowe tyme when eche thing gan to grene
all weried from his worke, retournes this Dauy Diker hende
And for to ease him selfe the bet, full softely gan he wende.
Unto his house withī a groue a lytle there besyde
His bottle and his bagge, he hent, he left them not behinde
Wherin remayned but small surplus, of viande at that tyde
And downe he sate hym on the benche, of meate had lytle minde
But gan complaine his verinesse, and one his hande his bedde
He did arrest, and cleped wyfe as though he wolde to bedde.
Lo dame he sayd thou wotest I troue, that candle is to diere
To sytte vp late and praten out our thrift til farther night
And eke I nil no supper haue, lette be put out the fiere.
And in he stepte, and sone he was vncased in his couche
And at his heade as was his wonte, he layed vp his pouche.
To wery labouring men, full swete doth seme such rest
He had not lyen lōge, but loud he gan to route
And softly by his syde his wyfe her selfe to bed adrest
The dogge, the cat, and syb the mayde, eche couchen them about.
Into their hernes where they warre wont, and al was huist and styll
And Dauy gan to Dreame his Dreame, as we deuysen wyll.
Then Wylkyn gan at once vp brayde, and sware by godes dyne harte
A rushe for bookes, me leuer warre that I could tel this tale
Then of your scablings for to haue, a loade by wayne or carte
Strawe for suche peltry, it is good to stuffe an empty male
I durst it take vpon my soule in all this lyther thinge
Is not a tale that may bee foūde so muche to my lykinge.
Yea yea quod wat, my selfe by gisse, in youth might this haue learned
If I so wyse or happie had bē to folowe my fathers wyll
who would haue spent vpon my scoole so muche as he had earned
But I was bent another waye, methought it very yl
All daye to rucken on my taile, and poren on a booke
It was nothing vnto my paye full soone I it forsoke.
But Herman here our other mate, it was a wytty elfe
Ado, ado, quod herman then & printer yet go forth
what was the Dreame that Dauy mette as he it tolde him selfe
For yet me thinketh by thy feare, that Dreame is somme what worth.
Content quod he gyue heare againe, and here me what I sayne.
Danye Dikers dreme.
When faith in frendes beares fruite, & folyshe fansies fade.And crafti catchers comme to nought and hate great loue hath made
When fraude flieth farre frō towne: and loyterers leaue the fylde
And rude shall runne a ryght full race, and all men be well wylde
whē gropers after gaine, shal carpe for common wealth
And wyly workers shal disdayne to fygge and lyue by stealth
whē wisdome walkes a lofte and folly fyttes full lowe
And vertue vainquisheth pamperd vice and grace, beginnes to growe:
when Iustice iones to trueth and lawe lokes not to miede
And bribes helpe not to buyld fare bowers, nor giftes great glotonsfiede
When hongre hides his head and pleinty pleaseth the pore
And nyggardes to thee nedy men shall neuer shutte thee dore
When double darke deceipt, is out of credite worne
And fawnyng speche is falshed founde & creaft is laught to skorne
when pryde that pikes the purse, gapes not for garmentes gay
Nor Iauelles weare no veluette wiedes nor wandring wittes beare sway
Nor coueytous crieps not into court nor learned lyuinges lacke
when siper sleightes are sene and fare fatches be founde
And pryuate profite and selfe loue shall both be put in pounde
when depteno sergaunt dreds and courtiers creite kepe
when lucere lastes not longe, and hurde greate heapes doth hate
And euery wight is well content, to walke in his estate
when truth dothe treade thee stretes, and lieres lurke in dē
And Rex doth reygne and rule the rost, and wiedes out wiked men
then balefull barnes be blyth, that her in Englande wonne
Your stryfe shall stynt I vndertake, and dredful dayes be donne
This Diker was no fole I gesse, quod watte and Herman tho.
It semeth wel he hī bethought vpon the worldes change
And of his drudge and myckel paine, when he to bed did go
And thē to dreame of such like thīges, per di it is not straūge
Suche as mitalke & thoghts haue bene ye dai befor certain
Such things again at night in slepe, my drem hath shewed me plaine.
And eke I harden ones, & right good doctour tell
that such as farced go to bed, with meate and drinke goode stoore
Theyr dreames alwaye to them in more dysorder fell
Then yf they empty went to bedde, as ye haue hard before
That Dauie dyd whose supper was, so slender & so short
That nothinge els but wearinesse, and nature caused him snort
A dreame, a strawe quod Wylkin then, by God it was noswenyn
Men dreame of deuyls, of apes, and owles, of naked gyrles and boyes
But I ne thinke this dreame is such, it hitteth thinges so euen
It talketh with good reason round, of fansies ne of toyes
But of suche thinges as I cannot, amenden with my wytte
Nor neuer shall I thynke befounde, reformed euery whytte.
But where as many thinges ben found, that mans wit can not fatche
To mende as many as we can, and thee rest a paterne make.
To bringe our stat as reyghe to them, as mans deuyce can mache
As out of Platoes commen welth, a tale I coulde you tell
of many thynges that hee wolde haue, and not but very well:
That neuer yet in earthe ware founde, as hee wolde haue them done
Quod watte no more of Platoes lore, I ken hym not by gysse
Ne care not muche excepte he coulde somme rules for chaunge of mone
But well I wot algates and am full sure of this
That I haue harde the preachers speake, of asmuche as is here
And of mo thinges than any man, is able to comme nere
But ay methinkes it is fine, for such a rude vplande
It ware ynoughe for a right good clerke, at instyuynsty taught
He had is helpe his parysshe prest I venture durst my hāde
what thoughe hee coulde it dreame thus right, yet I belyue it naught
That he coud with such queīt prouerbes, his dreame at large endite
And eke I thinke thee sely swaene, dyd neuer learne to write.
No watte quod thee printer tho, thou harpest on the truth
This Diker had a frende in court that well coulde handle pen
with whom he was acqūeinted earst, as play felowes in youth
who for they then companions warre dyd him vouch safe to ben.
And loued Dauy euermore, in him suche truth there was
And Dauy when hee came to town, vnsēe wold not hī pas.
That he to Londō list resort, for thinges that stod him nied
He founde his frinde, and all this dreme, at length vnto him radde
And he for yt it semed a thinge the penninge worth in diede
Gan drawe it into frame, and shapen as ye harde
And one that lust it fantasien, to printinge it prefarde.
Lo nowe I haue ye halfe perfourmed, that I you earst behight
what maner man this Diker was, and howe this dreame came out
And nowe I will to Camell passe, if ye therin dilight
By whom this ioly sturre, is chiefly brought aboute
And tell fro pointe to pointe, as earst I dyd of this
His worthinesse as I it know and as the sayeng is.
The Camell semes to me to be, a great out landishe beast
Quod Herman to the printer then, that longe his peace had holde
with bunches twaine vpon his backe, as highe as any horse atleast
Of whiche I do remembre is in the newe Testament tolde
That euery ryche gnof, may vp to heauen as easyly stye
As maye this wilde vnruly beast, passe through a nidles eye.
And eke we none in England haue excepte they bene vs brought
Of late that I ne knowe, out of some farre countrye
And by my trouth if I shall say you plainli to my thought
Thoughe none we had, it skylles not muche, if they so vnruly by
But prynter trust thou me, I nylle it not belieue
A beaste to speake and writen this, my reason doth not giene.
The prynter loude he loughe, and so dyd al the choppe
And sayd that Herman spokene asmuch as myght be said
But ware thee Camell here quod he, he would be in thy toppe
Though I do selde on horse bake come, there can no Camell kynde.
Tyll I knowe more, lette me to saye, thee fansies of my minde.
Mary knowe thou then quod he, that Camell is a man.
Nay printer softe quod wylkin tho and suffre me to speake
what cause had hee that moued him, to auswere to this whan
Or why shoulde he of other al, so fumysshlye out breake
To barke at Dauye Dykers dreame that ment him none vnrest
Excepte he ware one of those sortes, that wolde haue redrest
Pardieu a Dreame is but a Dreame, a fansye of thee heade
And hee ne ment I hope that men, sholde it for gospell take
But as asweuen or fantasie, that eche one shulde it reade
For thy me thynkes accordyngly, the name dyd Dauye make
And nowe a man (ye saye he his) against a Dreame to spurne
Me thynke it eyther smelles of craft, or els of somme harte burne.
What soft, mate quod the prynter tho, and hee began to lowre
You ginne ware hote I wene, against thee sommer sonne
Ye may be cooled ere ye come home, with somme freshe Aprill showre
This to muche before that I mytall haue all ydonne
Here fyrst an ende of all, and then pronoucen dome
Or els departe ye calmely hence euen suche way as ye comme.
Herman was full wo, when he, thee prynter sawe thus wroth
And had but lyttle lust to try out the tale
And to his felowes gan vpbraide, ye se thee daye hence goeth
And by the vanes I spye the winde, to be by south at west
That we vs haste to Maldon meade, I thinke it be the best.
And therfore nowe giue vs quod he, and take thou here thy grote
And though that wilkin and this wat, haue shewed theyr hasty wyt
(We Maryneres be saltce y frete, we can no but god wote)
I pray the prynter be content and take no grefe at it
We haue at homme a mariner that can somme skyll of booke
He shall them see and reade them vs, and so theyr leaue they toke.
And I that present was at al, for that I lyked the sporte
Gā print it in mi fyckle heade in order as I coulde
And for to pen it out the bed did to mycelfe resorte
And drewe it there into a somme, as I had harde it tolde.
Not withe suche wordes as they it spake, but in suche wordes as I.
Had partly learned of my dame, and lyst to fantasy.
Suche happe may happe, to giue a seconde fytte.
If cause shall happe, and lay sure serue for it.
Of such as on fantesye decree and discus: on other mens workes, lo Ouides tale thus.
Rude Pan woulde nedes one day in companyeCompare to mend Apolles melodye?
The Ientil god, that saw his rudnes lo
(Although him selfe knewe how for to excell)
Contented stode, to here his conning well:
Pan played, and played boystiouslye
Apollo played but muche melodiously
And suche a tune wyth suche musicke gaue
As well became hys knowledge for to haue.
Midas stode by to Iudge and to decre
whiche of them both shoulde best in musycke be
And as he herde Pan playe & vse hys song,
He thought it suche as he had liked long
And wonted was to here of others oft
Apolles harpe and song went very soft
And swete and strange: as none might sweter be:
But yet thought Midas this musycke lykes not me.
And therfore strayght full loude he cried and said:
Pan. to mine eares of both hath better plaied,
Quoth then Apollo syns thus thou demest Pan:
Me to excel that God of Connyng am,
And so doest iudge of thinges thou canst not skyll
Midas henceforth lo thus to the I wyll
Thou shalte haue eares to shewe and tell I wys:
But what thy skyll and what thy reason is.
which on thy heade shal stāde and witnes be
Howe thou haste iudged this rurall God and me
Nay be contend for I haue it sayd
A ful sad man stood Midas thē dismaide
And as hee felt to trye if it so was
He found hee had two eares as hath an Asse
Newly growen out wher as hys own eares stoode
Sor chaunged then his coullour and his mode
He shooke hys eares and sadly went hys waye
I know no more, but thys I wot and know
That tho the Phrigian kyng be buried lo
And both hys eares eke with hym hydden be
And so far worne that no man shall them se,
Syns suche there are that lyue at this day yet
Whiche haue hys skyl, hys iudgement and his wit
And take vpon them both to iudge and know
To them I wyshe euen thus and to no mo
That as they haue hys iudgement and his yeares,
Euen so I woulde they had his fayre longe eares.
T. Hedley
A supplication vnto mast Camell.
Please
it your maship, good mast Camell,
Te heare a poore man his tale for to tell,
And though you bee, a man of great debilitie,
Denye not to heare, a man of low abilitie,
And I syre you, to take it, for no presmountacion,
For yche ha bee brought vp, after vnrudefacions
Syr, now chyll showe ye, the mater and the case,
whych am com to speake you, and like your faire face,
There is one Churcharde, that hath you spleasar done,
And ych am com to syre ye, to be good maister tone,
But twas vnleudly dooe, and after an homly sord,
So faire a beast as you ben, to tiyen vp so short,
I pray you holden scused twas but, for lacke of nourt
For cham sure, hannot ben, past .vii. or .viii. yer a coutier
Twas but blockshly y do, of one so vnbase as he,
To spout with such a gemā, of so hie a petidegree:
Yer of a strudy stock, for your fader nere raisde his farmes.
Nor nere solde his landes: for ych herd an hasard of armes
Blase all the aunciall proditours, of your olde axeltrie.
whiche com from olde, house of moch inpossibilitie,
And many vpstauncial men wer brouded in that nest,
But your moder in her armes (he said) bare a byg best:
Besech ye good mast Camell, geue ore and leue your fume
And chil be boūd that Churchard shan no more so parsume
But if he be so sedgious, to writen an other, whan,
Bum fay chil treate no more do withen what ye can.
Te heare a poore man his tale for to tell,
And though you bee, a man of great debilitie,
Denye not to heare, a man of low abilitie,
And I syre you, to take it, for no presmountacion,
For yche ha bee brought vp, after vnrudefacions
Syr, now chyll showe ye, the mater and the case,
whych am com to speake you, and like your faire face,
There is one Churcharde, that hath you spleasar done,
And ych am com to syre ye, to be good maister tone,
But twas vnleudly dooe, and after an homly sord,
So faire a beast as you ben, to tiyen vp so short,
I pray you holden scused twas but, for lacke of nourt
For cham sure, hannot ben, past .vii. or .viii. yer a coutier
To spout with such a gemā, of so hie a petidegree:
Yer of a strudy stock, for your fader nere raisde his farmes.
Nor nere solde his landes: for ych herd an hasard of armes
Blase all the aunciall proditours, of your olde axeltrie.
whiche com from olde, house of moch inpossibilitie,
And many vpstauncial men wer brouded in that nest,
But your moder in her armes (he said) bare a byg best:
Besech ye good mast Camell, geue ore and leue your fume
And chil be boūd that Churchard shan no more so parsume
But if he be so sedgious, to writen an other, whan,
Bum fay chil treate no more do withen what ye can.
Your daily Belman, at your manndement, Good man Gefferay Chappell, of whipstable.
To goodman Chappels supplication
Harry whobal harke, maste Camell hathe yzeeneThy vengeance zory byll, and tompes the as I wene,
And is by Christe full zad, that thou comest out zo late
Thou myghtest haue had a place vor Pekehorn at his gate.
But vortune frended not, chote it verye well,
The more hard happe thou hadst, ich doo thee plainly tell.
Uor zure charde hym swear by goges dygne dayntie bones
Thou shoodes be newe yshod to trāp these oldestons
Uor zomer nowe a trowes, wil hurt the zore with flies,
But he no nyggon is, a wyll vorde the a flappe,
Thou shalt haue a vorrayle man, to put vpon thy cappe.
And goddes benyson to, tho, Churcharde tye hym shorte.
Churcharde wers a bell at staill to make his frendes sport.
And Camell choppes holy water, for Churcharde and forthe.
Uor he wyll to you bothe, a holy chaplain be.
And if a wittin not, er twaie daies bee agoe,
He wyll you sprinkle bothe, as uarre as I doo knowe.
Tis a vengeance beast, and bygge to beare you all,
And if you zit not vast, bum fay, man to vall
Thomas Camell.
Steuen Steple to mast Camell.
Best
ye mery bayre zyr, I trowe ye be maste Camell,
I chan on message to you zent, vrom goodman Geffray Chapel.
I hate ye zent a bottell a hay, and bad commaunde nia tie ye,
And worde dyng hee spake ye to, a preyd ye dat ye wood hy ye,
And zuch kynd daintrels as a had, zū draf he hate ye zent
A zyerd ye wor to gnab derō vor der is no better in Kent-
This good and zoote an alzo new, to mende your zyekish brayne.
Uor wele a zete ye ha great stud, & zet yourself to paine,
Hym wraid yer wites wud zoro ye vayle, ye gin to raue zo zone,
A dynkte ye wyll be mad, all out beuore dat May be done:
And moch he merueilt dat ye wud, zo chorlshly to vm wryghte,
And dat ye zent vm such an Anser, dat zounded noding right,
To Harry Hoball zyr ye wrot, as pearit in your letter,
zwap yerspeckles vp se nase, and looke about ye better,
And Anser Geffray Chappell zyr, dat toke ye de zupplication,
Uor his name is not Hary whobal, ich zwear by gods zauacion
How zav ye now yore speckles be on, can ye vorstande hys byll,
Ych ween a trete ye (zereuerence a you) to do Churchard non il.
And her cha brought yor byl ayen, corrupt it irich go,
Uor vende godes vorbod man I zedge, to let it go vorth zo:
But wellich zee yor braine is dicke, your wits be curstly vext,
Prey God ye be not zyde yor zyelf, er be to morow next:
Deruore go couch and sleap a now, and dan com to yor parte,
An dyte a wyser dyng dan dat, or all is not wort a vart.
I chan on message to you zent, vrom goodman Geffray Chapel.
I hate ye zent a bottell a hay, and bad commaunde nia tie ye,
And worde dyng hee spake ye to, a preyd ye dat ye wood hy ye,
And zuch kynd daintrels as a had, zū draf he hate ye zent
A zyerd ye wor to gnab derō vor der is no better in Kent-
This good and zoote an alzo new, to mende your zyekish brayne.
Uor wele a zete ye ha great stud, & zet yourself to paine,
Hym wraid yer wites wud zoro ye vayle, ye gin to raue zo zone,
And moch he merueilt dat ye wud, zo chorlshly to vm wryghte,
And dat ye zent vm such an Anser, dat zounded noding right,
To Harry Hoball zyr ye wrot, as pearit in your letter,
zwap yerspeckles vp se nase, and looke about ye better,
And Anser Geffray Chappell zyr, dat toke ye de zupplication,
Uor his name is not Hary whobal, ich zwear by gods zauacion
How zav ye now yore speckles be on, can ye vorstande hys byll,
Ych ween a trete ye (zereuerence a you) to do Churchard non il.
And her cha brought yor byl ayen, corrupt it irich go,
Uor vende godes vorbod man I zedge, to let it go vorth zo:
But wellich zee yor braine is dicke, your wits be curstly vext,
Prey God ye be not zyde yor zyelf, er be to morow next:
Deruore go couch and sleap a now, and dan com to yor parte,
An dyte a wyser dyng dan dat, or all is not wort a vart.
Now ych ha myne arnede a do,
Chud ha ye yor head to heede a
And be good maister Chuchard to,
And zo God be yor sprede a.
Chud ha ye yor head to heede a
And be good maister Chuchard to,
And zo God be yor sprede a.
Camelles Conclusion
Camelles conclusion, and last farewell then,
To Churchyarde and those, that defende his when.
To Churchyarde and those, that defende his when.
A man
that hath mo thynges then two, to put him vnto prines,
Hath euen so many cares the mo to worke hym wery braines.
So I, that late haue laboured harde, and pulcked at my plowe,
Am come to towne, where nowe I fynde mo matters then ynewe.
Mo then I looked for by muche, mo matters to then needes,
Mo makynges & mo medlynges far, then I haue herbes or wedes.
And all agaynst me one alone, a sory symple man,
That toyles and trauailes for my foode, to earne it as I can.
And gladly woulde in quiet bee, to swinke and liue in rest,
But dreamers wyl not suffer me, they nettle so my nest.
A surreioinder, dreamer bringes, the second a decree,
A maryner bringes in his bote, and he the thirde wil be
And so they ioyne and iompe in lease, god graūt them well to runne.
For I shall shewe them if I can, course er I haue done.
The dreamer first full well I know, I shooke hym by the sleue,
Whereat the other .ii. I trow, are angrye and do greue.
But that no force be as be may, here gothe thee beast a broade
Dreamer a wake, mariner rowe, decree man looke a broade.
The beaste will turne I laye a grotte, and gyue you all a tryp,
why nowe syrs nowe, nowe foote it well, this beast begyns to skyp.
And fyrst to master dreamer turnes, and his surreioyndre to,
wherin all thinges bee well he saith, that he doth dreame and doo.
He dreames hee sayes and truly meanes, to put thinges in good stay
Shorte syr Dreamer, a bandy ho, that baall muste nedes away.
If that your dreame haue suche entent, that hath in an effecte,
And that effeecte your western wyll would not haue men suspect:
But take it as a Dreame sayes he, and fantesy of the head.
A fyner freke by Roode then you, I haue his workes wel reade.
Altho hee chop in chorles termes, and carpes in vncouth speeche,
Yet knowe I with a fynger wet, where wyse men might hym seche,
That if hee whyp his whyrryso, he may chance licke a clowne,
To whyp it under water quite, and craire and cariag drowne.
But sēs he is becō my iudge and iudgeth me amysse,
In nothing me quite oute of rule, as his wide wisedome is
He shall well knowe, and so shall you, and the decreer too,
that for my rule, when I was yonge, this was I taught to doo.
My father put me firste to schole, where, I a maister hadde:
Of whom I had preceptes and strypes as fitted for a ladde.
He taught me there to feare my god, and loue hym with my mihht.
To serue the king, and pray for hym, and all his counsell ryght.
Then next to honour those my frendes, that kept me so at scoole.
And this while I a scholar was, was euery day my rule.
And syns that tyme, my vicar hath full lyke a christē man,
Taught mee to treade in godes high waie, and kepe it as I can.
To be obedient to the kyng and to the lawe also.
And doo my duetie to the powers, and lette their matters go.
Que nostra sunt curare lo, he titled at my doore,
And bad me printe it on my postes, an spread it on my flore.
And leele loue & labour eke, he had me learne to knowe,
And kepe my plowe for profite sake, and thanke god to I trowe.
And tolde me howe there hanges a bell, within our parishe churche,
whiche he dothe twāge eche mornyng rathe, before we go to wurche,
That toles to me, & others mo, our neighbours there abut,
This terme whiche I shall tel you nowe, as I can bring it out.
que supra nos nihil ad nos, this bel tinges vs to kenne:
And this hee said thee bell warnde me, as it dyd other men
And when I sawe this Dicars when, I was so bolde to tell.
That Dicar in his draffishe dreame, had not herd this bell well.
And then for thy, forsooth and god my horne & scrape I tooke:
And scartched in a fewe fret lynes, for dreamers on to looke:
And so syr thus I ment no more, but minded hym to know
His duetie (as I ment myne owne) and father not to goe,
Tyl in his toyes he tickled me, as lofty ladde on lowde
And shope me shares to sharpe mee withe, to carpe out of a clowde.
And if you rolle thus out of tune for raynyng hym this way,
To kep hīselfe in ordersuch as he shoulde doo I faye:
And take the iudgement to your hande, and terme me oute of rule,
Then trowe me well, you me wid frō Camel to a mule
Whiche Camell can not trouch withal, nor cary with him home.
But shape and shake it to yourselues, like lumpes of your owne lome,
But wel away, I wander wide, for Churchyarde mēt it well,
And so he saies, and so say you, and so your writynges tell,
So sometymes houses fired are, by meanyng well in lyghtes,
And then the meanyng is but marde, and they mad meaning wightes.
But sens you wil nede haue me seke the meanyng of this whan,
Meane it to those whom it dothe touche, and scuse it as you can
And then let wyse men deme and iudge atwene Dicar and me,
which of vs two is out of rule, I meane or I or hee.
And fyrst let mee nowe are you all, what signifies this whan?
That caries withe hym at his taile, so great a iarryng than.
Holde is it in hand a present tymme, or future tymme to comme?
Or is it admirantis worde, as schoole men call it some.
It must needes meane a matter madde, as farre as I can see,
But on go to, your wittes are fyne, meane you it out for me.
Dreamer dothe dreame, and whens vs out, a wondre of these whens,
wher of somme whens are wonders well, and mete for whens mens
But some from gammuth gront and grone aboue ela a note:
And those wilde whens at whend to large, I dare you gage my cote,
what when is this, that he whens out, when iustice ioynes to truthe?
whose seate is that? howe ioynes iustice? dreamer saie on in sooth.
And nodde your noddles nowe in one, and make a trinitie.
Ful worke manly to worke this when, if yt it wilso bee.
And fyrst waye well what iustice is, to whom it dooth pertaine.
Who swayes the swoorde, who dooth decree, looke to the matter pláin.
From whēs he coms, what branche he bears, and who and whiche him vse,
And aunswere iustice to the wrōg, wher wt you hī accuse
And meane your meanyng as you meane, and dreame not in your slepe,
And shew what ioly ordere nowe, in this your when you kepe.
But shorte to make of all your whens, to take thee principall,
This is among the rest the worst, and standes thee last of all.
when Rex dothe reigne and rule the roste, lo thus you raunge at laste
A meruaillous when that suche a when, should out in print be paste.
Dothe not Rex rainge sit dreamer now? what whennyng terme is this?
If Rex reigne not? who reigneth then? a sauci when this is.
And whend at length and large in deede, beyonde a subiecres wit,
That god defende that I should dreame, or that, or lyke of it.
And yet I trowe I haue a byll for cattall that I solde:
That saies howe Rex hath raigeed vi. yeare almost I dare be bolde.
And eyther is your when ful false, or my byl is not tru
And which is truest of thē both, let me uow aske of you
As for my selfe I make no doubtes, but that your whē is wrong,
And that Rex raignes as he hath doon, & shall I trust raigne long.
whiche as in scoole I was fyrst taught, to praie that he may doo.
So euery subsecte let hym seke to haue that prayer to,
Thus coulde I touch some other whens, wherin you when at large.
A gret deale past your compasse to, and as muche paste your charge.
But, those I leaue by lyght of this, for to bee scande and sene,
To those that better iudgementes haue, then you or I, I wene.
And nowe wyll take your then in hand wher with you knit your when.
In publishing it thus to me and to al other menne.
Than balefull barnes bee blithe you say, that here in England wonne:
Our stryfe shall stynte you vndertake, our dredfull dayes are donne.
An assurance her you make that baleful barnes we be,
And that in strife we are also, & dreadeful daies doo se.
But God defende it should be true, which your ful frantycke hedde:
Hath publysht to so opē eis for to be seene and redde.
For once for me I make no doughtes, nor no good subect elles:
But we a moble soueraign haue, as al our statuts tels.
And as al orders els ben̄ds do wyll vs for to know:
who gouernes vs and is our head, and rules vs also
And vnder hym haue other powers to see that law be donne:
To gree and tune vs in accorde, if wee be out of tune.
Under whose rule & order eke, al we that subiectes be:
do liue and ioyne as sytteth vs, in one for to agree
And in thee town where I do dwell, I know no stryfe or dread.
But euery man there lyues in tune as subiectes to their head.
And meddels not but with their plowes, and somtime with their bow.
And prate with Peter and with Paule, theyr duties for to know.
And learne so for to kepe them still, in order as they can:
Except such wranglers wrangle them, withe suche large whan and than
And so I truste they do elswhere, whiche for my part I pray,
That lōge we may so ioyne in one, what so your when dothe say
But yet suche dreadfulle whans and thens, which doth the matter marre
were bette quight, pulled out of syght, then shewed as they are.
And so shewe westerne will from me, and wat and Herman too
And will them wynde their talke well not as they wont to doo.
For if they leane to learne suche whens, it will be lōge I feare,
Ere they will channell well theire craire, that shulde them safely beare
Hath euen so many cares the mo to worke hym wery braines.
So I, that late haue laboured harde, and pulcked at my plowe,
Am come to towne, where nowe I fynde mo matters then ynewe.
Mo then I looked for by muche, mo matters to then needes,
Mo makynges & mo medlynges far, then I haue herbes or wedes.
And all agaynst me one alone, a sory symple man,
That toyles and trauailes for my foode, to earne it as I can.
And gladly woulde in quiet bee, to swinke and liue in rest,
But dreamers wyl not suffer me, they nettle so my nest.
A surreioinder, dreamer bringes, the second a decree,
A maryner bringes in his bote, and he the thirde wil be
And so they ioyne and iompe in lease, god graūt them well to runne.
For I shall shewe them if I can, course er I haue done.
The dreamer first full well I know, I shooke hym by the sleue,
Whereat the other .ii. I trow, are angrye and do greue.
But that no force be as be may, here gothe thee beast a broade
Dreamer a wake, mariner rowe, decree man looke a broade.
The beaste will turne I laye a grotte, and gyue you all a tryp,
why nowe syrs nowe, nowe foote it well, this beast begyns to skyp.
And fyrst to master dreamer turnes, and his surreioyndre to,
wherin all thinges bee well he saith, that he doth dreame and doo.
He dreames hee sayes and truly meanes, to put thinges in good stay
If that your dreame haue suche entent, that hath in an effecte,
And that effeecte your western wyll would not haue men suspect:
But take it as a Dreame sayes he, and fantesy of the head.
A fyner freke by Roode then you, I haue his workes wel reade.
Altho hee chop in chorles termes, and carpes in vncouth speeche,
Yet knowe I with a fynger wet, where wyse men might hym seche,
That if hee whyp his whyrryso, he may chance licke a clowne,
To whyp it under water quite, and craire and cariag drowne.
But sēs he is becō my iudge and iudgeth me amysse,
In nothing me quite oute of rule, as his wide wisedome is
He shall well knowe, and so shall you, and the decreer too,
that for my rule, when I was yonge, this was I taught to doo.
My father put me firste to schole, where, I a maister hadde:
Of whom I had preceptes and strypes as fitted for a ladde.
He taught me there to feare my god, and loue hym with my mihht.
To serue the king, and pray for hym, and all his counsell ryght.
Then next to honour those my frendes, that kept me so at scoole.
And this while I a scholar was, was euery day my rule.
And syns that tyme, my vicar hath full lyke a christē man,
Taught mee to treade in godes high waie, and kepe it as I can.
To be obedient to the kyng and to the lawe also.
Que nostra sunt curare lo, he titled at my doore,
And bad me printe it on my postes, an spread it on my flore.
And leele loue & labour eke, he had me learne to knowe,
And kepe my plowe for profite sake, and thanke god to I trowe.
And tolde me howe there hanges a bell, within our parishe churche,
whiche he dothe twāge eche mornyng rathe, before we go to wurche,
That toles to me, & others mo, our neighbours there abut,
This terme whiche I shall tel you nowe, as I can bring it out.
que supra nos nihil ad nos, this bel tinges vs to kenne:
And this hee said thee bell warnde me, as it dyd other men
And when I sawe this Dicars when, I was so bolde to tell.
That Dicar in his draffishe dreame, had not herd this bell well.
And then for thy, forsooth and god my horne & scrape I tooke:
And scartched in a fewe fret lynes, for dreamers on to looke:
And so syr thus I ment no more, but minded hym to know
His duetie (as I ment myne owne) and father not to goe,
Tyl in his toyes he tickled me, as lofty ladde on lowde
And shope me shares to sharpe mee withe, to carpe out of a clowde.
And if you rolle thus out of tune for raynyng hym this way,
To kep hīselfe in ordersuch as he shoulde doo I faye:
And take the iudgement to your hande, and terme me oute of rule,
Then trowe me well, you me wid frō Camel to a mule
Whiche Camell can not trouch withal, nor cary with him home.
But wel away, I wander wide, for Churchyarde mēt it well,
And so he saies, and so say you, and so your writynges tell,
So sometymes houses fired are, by meanyng well in lyghtes,
And then the meanyng is but marde, and they mad meaning wightes.
But sens you wil nede haue me seke the meanyng of this whan,
Meane it to those whom it dothe touche, and scuse it as you can
And then let wyse men deme and iudge atwene Dicar and me,
which of vs two is out of rule, I meane or I or hee.
And fyrst let mee nowe are you all, what signifies this whan?
That caries withe hym at his taile, so great a iarryng than.
Holde is it in hand a present tymme, or future tymme to comme?
Or is it admirantis worde, as schoole men call it some.
It must needes meane a matter madde, as farre as I can see,
But on go to, your wittes are fyne, meane you it out for me.
Dreamer dothe dreame, and whens vs out, a wondre of these whens,
wher of somme whens are wonders well, and mete for whens mens
But some from gammuth gront and grone aboue ela a note:
And those wilde whens at whend to large, I dare you gage my cote,
what when is this, that he whens out, when iustice ioynes to truthe?
whose seate is that? howe ioynes iustice? dreamer saie on in sooth.
And nodde your noddles nowe in one, and make a trinitie.
And fyrst waye well what iustice is, to whom it dooth pertaine.
Who swayes the swoorde, who dooth decree, looke to the matter pláin.
From whēs he coms, what branche he bears, and who and whiche him vse,
And aunswere iustice to the wrōg, wher wt you hī accuse
And meane your meanyng as you meane, and dreame not in your slepe,
And shew what ioly ordere nowe, in this your when you kepe.
But shorte to make of all your whens, to take thee principall,
This is among the rest the worst, and standes thee last of all.
when Rex dothe reigne and rule the roste, lo thus you raunge at laste
A meruaillous when that suche a when, should out in print be paste.
Dothe not Rex rainge sit dreamer now? what whennyng terme is this?
If Rex reigne not? who reigneth then? a sauci when this is.
And whend at length and large in deede, beyonde a subiecres wit,
That god defende that I should dreame, or that, or lyke of it.
And yet I trowe I haue a byll for cattall that I solde:
That saies howe Rex hath raigeed vi. yeare almost I dare be bolde.
And eyther is your when ful false, or my byl is not tru
And which is truest of thē both, let me uow aske of you
As for my selfe I make no doubtes, but that your whē is wrong,
And that Rex raignes as he hath doon, & shall I trust raigne long.
whiche as in scoole I was fyrst taught, to praie that he may doo.
So euery subsecte let hym seke to haue that prayer to,
A gret deale past your compasse to, and as muche paste your charge.
But, those I leaue by lyght of this, for to bee scande and sene,
To those that better iudgementes haue, then you or I, I wene.
And nowe wyll take your then in hand wher with you knit your when.
In publishing it thus to me and to al other menne.
Than balefull barnes bee blithe you say, that here in England wonne:
Our stryfe shall stynte you vndertake, our dredfull dayes are donne.
An assurance her you make that baleful barnes we be,
And that in strife we are also, & dreadeful daies doo se.
But God defende it should be true, which your ful frantycke hedde:
Hath publysht to so opē eis for to be seene and redde.
For once for me I make no doughtes, nor no good subect elles:
But we a moble soueraign haue, as al our statuts tels.
And as al orders els ben̄ds do wyll vs for to know:
who gouernes vs and is our head, and rules vs also
And vnder hym haue other powers to see that law be donne:
To gree and tune vs in accorde, if wee be out of tune.
Under whose rule & order eke, al we that subiectes be:
do liue and ioyne as sytteth vs, in one for to agree
And in thee town where I do dwell, I know no stryfe or dread.
But euery man there lyues in tune as subiectes to their head.
And meddels not but with their plowes, and somtime with their bow.
And prate with Peter and with Paule, theyr duties for to know.
Except such wranglers wrangle them, withe suche large whan and than
And so I truste they do elswhere, whiche for my part I pray,
That lōge we may so ioyne in one, what so your when dothe say
But yet suche dreadfulle whans and thens, which doth the matter marre
were bette quight, pulled out of syght, then shewed as they are.
And so shewe westerne will from me, and wat and Herman too
And will them wynde their talke well not as they wont to doo.
For if they leane to learne suche whens, it will be lōge I feare,
Ere they will channell well theire craire, that shulde them safely beare
Thomas Camell.
Westerne will to Camell and for hym selfe alone, althoughe hee leudly lust, to knitte vp three in one
When
calmely blowes the winde, and seas but lytle moue,
And cloude appereth none, to threaten from aboue
Unwelcomme chaunge of wether, with rage of storms loude,
Be mistes their manteles spreade, the sonne away to shroude,
The Maister idle syttes, & shipboyes stere thee sterne,
The course so rarelesse is, he lust it not gouerne
But when the storme beginnes, to rattle in the skyes
And wallowing waues a loft, like mountaines high to ryse,
And sources roulīg rounde, full thicke in others taile,
Bethynde and eke before, the Crayer ginnes assaile,
Then boyes comme fro the helme, and Maisters setto hande
That better practise haue, the belowes to with stande.
And cloude appereth none, to threaten from aboue
Unwelcomme chaunge of wether, with rage of storms loude,
Be mistes their manteles spreade, the sonne away to shroude,
The Maister idle syttes, & shipboyes stere thee sterne,
The course so rarelesse is, he lust it not gouerne
But when the storme beginnes, to rattle in the skyes
And wallowing waues a loft, like mountaines high to ryse,
And sources roulīg rounde, full thicke in others taile,
Then boyes comme fro the helme, and Maisters setto hande
That better practise haue, the belowes to with stande.
So now with me it fars syth ye begynne to blow,
And thonndre in thee ayre, and sondrie lyghtnynges throw,
And rore ageinst the rockes wher on your water beates
My self to helme am comen to guyde her in these heats
Suffised me a fore, when naught appered but calme
To laughe and looke vpon the queītise of your qualme
As doeth the ydle man, vppon the plaiers game
where parte hym self, hathe none and yeat vppon thee same
His fansie commune wyll, and furtheto other telle
what thing ther semed him good, or other wise then well
But ye no lookers on, in no wyse can abyde
To say their fansyes free, what toys in you they spied
But eche muste haue his parte, when ye begyne to rage.
Ye loue a nombre well, fo furnyshe out the stage
And sithe ye will therfore, that niedes I shal come in,
Thus for my self alone, to answer I beginne:
And thonndre in thee ayre, and sondrie lyghtnynges throw,
And rore ageinst the rockes wher on your water beates
My self to helme am comen to guyde her in these heats
Suffised me a fore, when naught appered but calme
To laughe and looke vpon the queītise of your qualme
As doeth the ydle man, vppon the plaiers game
where parte hym self, hathe none and yeat vppon thee same
His fansie commune wyll, and furtheto other telle
what thing ther semed him good, or other wise then well
But ye no lookers on, in no wyse can abyde
To say their fansyes free, what toys in you they spied
But eche muste haue his parte, when ye begyne to rage.
Ye loue a nombre well, fo furnyshe out the stage
And sithe ye will therfore, that niedes I shal come in,
Thus for my self alone, to answer I beginne:
A man that bendes hym selfe, to sowe thee sedes of payne
No meruaylle thoughe hee reape, suche trauaile for his gaine.
A wicked ploughe it is, that forowes vp a fielde
To marre a pleasaūt patth and no goode fruite to yelde.
who laboureth so to fynde with dygging in the mould
Declareth well a wille, to fynde yf ought he coulde:
And busieth hymself, with matters moe then niedes
And roteth vp good herbes to plante in stynkynge wiedes.
And yeat would counpted be, a sely symple man
That nothing meanes but right, to further as he can
And that ye myght him rue and pitiesome what more
He makes as though he war, but one agaynst a skor
And yet if all be weighed, in balaunce iust vpright,
The chalenge restes in thē, that firste began the fight
But that in diede I heare, ye haue the Beau Lugent.
And eke that other one, that suche rewarde hath sent
To him that went about, to stille you with decree
As Phebus gaue to Pan, or iudgement like sayes he
No meruaylle thoughe hee reape, suche trauaile for his gaine.
A wicked ploughe it is, that forowes vp a fielde
To marre a pleasaūt patth and no goode fruite to yelde.
who laboureth so to fynde with dygging in the mould
Declareth well a wille, to fynde yf ought he coulde:
And busieth hymself, with matters moe then niedes
And roteth vp good herbes to plante in stynkynge wiedes.
And yeat would counpted be, a sely symple man
And that ye myght him rue and pitiesome what more
He makes as though he war, but one agaynst a skor
And yet if all be weighed, in balaunce iust vpright,
The chalenge restes in thē, that firste began the fight
But that in diede I heare, ye haue the Beau Lugent.
And eke that other one, that suche rewarde hath sent
To him that went about, to stille you with decree
As Phebus gaue to Pan, or iudgement like sayes he
Lo here I bring my boate to rowe ye home to Lynne
But ye suche cōscience haue for punishement of synne
That house and home may sincke, and oxen sterue at plow.
But ye mai some what gete to carry home wit you
woulde ye be glad in diede, to swincke and lyue in rest?
Then haue ye much a wrye begonne to make your neste
And that I trust at ones, in sobre woordes to showe,
Bestirre ye now in beast, ye mariner ginnes to rowe,
But ye suche cōscience haue for punishement of synne
That house and home may sincke, and oxen sterue at plow.
But ye mai some what gete to carry home wit you
woulde ye be glad in diede, to swincke and lyue in rest?
Then haue ye much a wrye begonne to make your neste
And that I trust at ones, in sobre woordes to showe,
Bestirre ye now in beast, ye mariner ginnes to rowe,
A personne of such witte, as ye would sieme to be
Of such fore caste and zeale and of suche grauitie
Before he taketh in hande, against a thing to wryte
And sette the same abroche, to all the peoples sight
Will weight what woords therin, bee not welle sayd or ment
And eke howe farre the sam from dutie doe dissent
which thing if ye so did, in reading of that bille
Then founde ye all thinges well or some thing sounding yll
But if you found them well ye raile and lacke a groūde
But if they siemed so ylle, as ye do make them sounde yle
Then dutie claymeth this, and specially in you
That in your youthe was taught, your dutie well enoughe
To haue race it fro the post and whem ye warned had
The seller, that this dream was daūgerous to be radd
The same in sobre wise, to open vnto those
That lawfull power haue our state, to binde and louse
Of whome you thākes had then deserued for your diede
And taken away ye cause wher of more euil might bried
But this thinge did ye not, wherfore I may conclude
Yf any harme there be, by you the woorte was brued
And ye concealed firste, the faulte ye dyd espie
And iudged it matter mete, your wrāgling witts to trye
Ye dreamed ye smelled a sparke, whiche thoughe it ware right smalle
Ye could by blowīges brīg, and tindre mirt withall
To make a flambe right great, in syght of many a on
which streight way of it self woulde ells haue quenched alone.
But had the dreamer giuen the victory to you
And holde his peace at first all had bene good enough:
The purging of your galle and hongre of a cote
As somme men do affirme, haue chauffed you so hote
Of such fore caste and zeale and of suche grauitie
Before he taketh in hande, against a thing to wryte
And sette the same abroche, to all the peoples sight
Will weight what woords therin, bee not welle sayd or ment
And eke howe farre the sam from dutie doe dissent
which thing if ye so did, in reading of that bille
Then founde ye all thinges well or some thing sounding yll
But if you found them well ye raile and lacke a groūde
But if they siemed so ylle, as ye do make them sounde yle
Then dutie claymeth this, and specially in you
That in your youthe was taught, your dutie well enoughe
To haue race it fro the post and whem ye warned had
The same in sobre wise, to open vnto those
That lawfull power haue our state, to binde and louse
Of whome you thākes had then deserued for your diede
And taken away ye cause wher of more euil might bried
But this thinge did ye not, wherfore I may conclude
Yf any harme there be, by you the woorte was brued
And ye concealed firste, the faulte ye dyd espie
And iudged it matter mete, your wrāgling witts to trye
Ye dreamed ye smelled a sparke, whiche thoughe it ware right smalle
Ye could by blowīges brīg, and tindre mirt withall
To make a flambe right great, in syght of many a on
which streight way of it self woulde ells haue quenched alone.
But had the dreamer giuen the victory to you
And holde his peace at first all had bene good enough:
The purging of your galle and hongre of a cote
As somme men do affirme, haue chauffed you so hote
Yet if you so haue founde suche sparckles in this dreame
Go blowe them where they bred, they be without my streame
Although you argue thus, entente will haue effecte
whiche westerne wil vould not, that any should suspecte
wher to I answer thus, ye stomble in the plaine
And wher ye thinck all sure your reasōs are most vaine
Full lytle witte ye haue, if ye cannot espye
this argument to be muche truer contrarrie
For sieldomer entent, atteineth to effecte
Then as ye folishelly, thee other do obiect.
Go blowe them where they bred, they be without my streame
Although you argue thus, entente will haue effecte
whiche westerne wil vould not, that any should suspecte
wher to I answer thus, ye stomble in the plaine
And wher ye thinck all sure your reasōs are most vaine
Full lytle witte ye haue, if ye cannot espye
this argument to be muche truer contrarrie
For sieldomer entent, atteineth to effecte
Then as ye folishelly, thee other do obiect.
I bydde no man to take it as dreame or fantasie
But ther I plainly shewed, that euen so tooke it I
And nothing ells did mean in homely westerne wille
But so to choppe in trenchour termes, as folkes do at the mill
wher eche to other carpes in rude & borrell spieche
Of thinges wher with thēselues, do neither smarte ne itche,
And if you would for this, we learned bothe to dyue
My boate and I toguether god let ye neuer thryue
But god bee thancked euer, that so for vs prouides
More noble hartes & wise, our comōwelth that guyds.
As he them list assigne, that reigneth in the toppe
Our true redoubted kinge, of suche excellent hope
As neuer subiectes had a paterne more expresse
Of kingly vertues all, and learned noblenesse
whose persons are to highe to, stowpe into this rythme
and better nothing said, thē spoken out of time
But ther I plainly shewed, that euen so tooke it I
And nothing ells did mean in homely westerne wille
wher eche to other carpes in rude & borrell spieche
Of thinges wher with thēselues, do neither smarte ne itche,
And if you would for this, we learned bothe to dyue
My boate and I toguether god let ye neuer thryue
But god bee thancked euer, that so for vs prouides
More noble hartes & wise, our comōwelth that guyds.
As he them list assigne, that reigneth in the toppe
Our true redoubted kinge, of suche excellent hope
As neuer subiectes had a paterne more expresse
Of kingly vertues all, and learned noblenesse
whose persons are to highe to, stowpe into this rythme
and better nothing said, thē spoken out of time
To you my pen I turne that iudgen me amysse,
And praye you well to note the parkinge vp of this
Sithe eye so well can racke, the mening of ones mynde
And haue a grace to smelle, that fewe men elles would finde
Content your self a while, and neither fume ne freate
Though with your owne to you I doo like measure meate
And sure I will not chuse the woorst emong the rost
But take the woord wherin you sieme to triomphe most:
And praye you well to note the parkinge vp of this
Sithe eye so well can racke, the mening of ones mynde
And haue a grace to smelle, that fewe men elles would finde
Content your self a while, and neither fume ne freate
Though with your owne to you I doo like measure meate
And sure I will not chuse the woorst emong the rost
But take the woord wherin you sieme to triomphe most:
Because ye woulde bee thought, to reuerence thee powers
(As well becomes vs all, to all our gouernours)
Suche name as they right well contented are to heare
And suche as of it self a maiestie doth beare
Contented are ye not, to vse in your verse
But by the name of goddes ye do them oft reherse
Now if you wille alleage the scripture vseth this
According to your skille: Ego dixi dii estis
Then harken I beseche your goddes howe they agree
To him that wee call God, and one beleue to be,
Lo in your rithmes afore, peruse them who that wyl,
It well appearres, the Godes, whom you them liken till,
ware neither goddes ne mē of cyuyle lyuing good
But fansyes of ydolatres, & dreames of Robinhood,
(As well becomes vs all, to all our gouernours)
Suche name as they right well contented are to heare
And suche as of it self a maiestie doth beare
Contented are ye not, to vse in your verse
But by the name of goddes ye do them oft reherse
Now if you wille alleage the scripture vseth this
According to your skille: Ego dixi dii estis
To him that wee call God, and one beleue to be,
Lo in your rithmes afore, peruse them who that wyl,
It well appearres, the Godes, whom you them liken till,
ware neither goddes ne mē of cyuyle lyuing good
But fansyes of ydolatres, & dreames of Robinhood,
But graunt that they ware goddes of olde gentilitie
Yet muste we take them suche, as they them wryte to bee
Then ponder well my friēd sithe ye the latten knowe,
what tales in them be tolde of Iupiter arowe,
And what a worthi clue, ye wynd vp of this threade
when ye thee magistrates, conioyne to such a heade:
And here if I would bring, extent to haue effect
I coulde make some beleue ye ware to be suspecte:
Ye mean them honour least wher most ye do them glose
And vse suche termes, as might be made a shipmans hose:
I could ye heare paynt out, a rable of those Goddes
Betwixst he whiche & Magistrates, I trow ye should put oddes
But that I do auoide, and feare also in diede,
That people in my rithmes suche thinges vnfytt would riede
I am not yet so bold, to talk at large of them
whome alwayes I haue feared, if they but wink or hem
But vse in you hathe bred, suche skylle bi sondry chāge
That happen what so wyl, it sieldome semeth straunge
wher practise small is had, in any kynde offeate
To suche it often happes, that tryfile seme them greate
But stomacke so are your, by trauaille in your trade
with many a wandring course, from post to pyllour made
That nothinge mountes so highe, ne semethe of suche, wayte
That ye will not attempte if ones ye wynde the baite.
Yet muste we take them suche, as they them wryte to bee
Then ponder well my friēd sithe ye the latten knowe,
what tales in them be tolde of Iupiter arowe,
And what a worthi clue, ye wynd vp of this threade
when ye thee magistrates, conioyne to such a heade:
And here if I would bring, extent to haue effect
I coulde make some beleue ye ware to be suspecte:
Ye mean them honour least wher most ye do them glose
And vse suche termes, as might be made a shipmans hose:
I could ye heare paynt out, a rable of those Goddes
Betwixst he whiche & Magistrates, I trow ye should put oddes
But that I do auoide, and feare also in diede,
That people in my rithmes suche thinges vnfytt would riede
I am not yet so bold, to talk at large of them
whome alwayes I haue feared, if they but wink or hem
But vse in you hathe bred, suche skylle bi sondry chāge
That happen what so wyl, it sieldome semeth straunge
wher practise small is had, in any kynde offeate
To suche it often happes, that tryfile seme them greate
But stomacke so are your, by trauaille in your trade
with many a wandring course, from post to pyllour made
That ye will not attempte if ones ye wynde the baite.
Thus far I am content, to waste ye on the waye
And as for all the rest, that you to other saye
Let them the aunswer make to whome it apperteignes
For I haue some what elles to occupye my braynes
And for your lesson, lo by Christ I lyke it well
And suche a lyke I wiene, doth Pierce the ploughman tell,
But yeat leaue out this clause, to spreade it on thee floore
It was enough to haue it written on the doore
For if it comme so low, to lye vppon the grounde
I feare that many fiete, will make it full vnsound
And treade it all to durte, in sorte I you assure
That ye may happe forgette to put the thinges in vre.
And as for all the rest, that you to other saye
Let them the aunswer make to whome it apperteignes
For I haue some what elles to occupye my braynes
And for your lesson, lo by Christ I lyke it well
And suche a lyke I wiene, doth Pierce the ploughman tell,
But yeat leaue out this clause, to spreade it on thee floore
It was enough to haue it written on the doore
For if it comme so low, to lye vppon the grounde
I feare that many fiete, will make it full vnsound
And treade it all to durte, in sorte I you assure
That ye may happe forgette to put the thinges in vre.
W. Watreman.
A plain and fynall confutation: of camelles corlyke oblatracion
Ye
vprighte men whiche loues thee light, whose heartes be voyd of gyle:
Condēne no cause till trueth be tryed, giue eare and lyst a whyle.
And marke my tale from point to point, let no worde skip vnskande:
And heare them withe indiffrent eares, and way them as they stande.
Fyrst lay aside affecciō blind for truethe my cause muste pleade,
Let nether foe nor fained frend, this matter Iudge nor reade.
And then I truste to clere myselfe, and Camell cleane confound:
That blowes the trompet of defam, whiche geues vncertain sound.
The tune wher of semes yet ful straunge, so boistrous is the blast:
But quiet calmes settes forth stil windes, when stormes begon and past.
Whiche quyet time I wish to haue, that I may be well harde.
And thē I hope this vypars bryde, shall haue his iust rewarde.
That forgeth fautes and seeketh holes, to crepe and scale therin:
And flattereth for no other cause but fame or gayne to winne.
What thinkes this man he hath more witte, & learning in his head.
Than hathe fyue thousand other men, that (Dicarres dreame hath read.
Or thinkes hee that I am so rashe, to run so far frō square
Or that I make such obcure thinges, that I dare not declare.
Than is hee blynde and veryfond, and scarce him selfe doeth know.
Let him loke on his booke againe, his rule is nothinge so.
To you I speake frēd Camel now, which wreketh ryght to wrong:
You saye you haue ben kept at scole, in soothe I thinke not longe.
Your master dyd but stroke your head, he dyd for beare the rodde:
I dout he dyd not teache you well, howe you should feare your God.
For if hee had you woulde haue stayed, to wryte against this dreame:
To spye a mote within my eie, since in yours is a beame
Yf you might site and iudge my cause, I shoulde soone feele your worst:
But God forbyd there were long hornes, on beastes that would be corst.
I call you beaste because you sayde, here goeth the beast abrode:
Thee beaste will turne you gage a grote, yf he be prickte with goade.
Nowe turne syr beaste and come aloft, fling not for fear of whip:
In dede it is a monstruse thynge, to see a Camelle skipe.
You say you shoke me by the sleue, than rubde I your gall packe:
Yf I know howe to doo you good my healpe you should not lacke.
We I ompe in leasse, ye gab fyre beaste, I am but one alone:
But I can proue (O beavv Camevv) that you are moe then on.
My surreioyndrer doethe declrare, this dreame was for the best:
And yet you crye, abandye ho at tenues thus ye ieste.
What can you laye vnto my charge, of malyce or of hate:
Since I do wyshe that euery wyght, shulde walke in his estate.
This veerse you hyppe, and yet it standes, next that whē rex doeth rayng:
Bothe these be good and godlye to, here shall I showe you plaine.
But as I sayde, out of faire flours, thee spyder poyson takes:
And yet the bee doeth feede theron, and ther with hony makes
I do compare this spyder nowe, to you whiche so apperes.
For that you run a patheles waye, to leade me in thee breerres.
Wheare fynde you this that dreames can haue, any effect at all.
Be not they fancyes of thee hed and so wyse men thē call
why do you wryte against a dreme, whiche hath a small effect,
why turne you yt to meanyng leawde, to bringe it in suspect,
You ment no more but mee to learne, so you woolde you excuse:
Syr yf you mynde to kepe a frynde, do not your frinde so vse.
You bragge you of your master much when you to skool dyd goe:
You sayde ye larned your duetie well good syr it seems not soe.
To serue the king and praye for hym, I learnede as well as you:
To loue hym leall for concyens sake this lesson well I knew.
His councell ecke for to obay my dueti learnes me too:
And withe ther matters not to mell, nor therin haue to do.
This lesson heether to I kept, and shall here after kepe:
Tylle I to earthe retorne again, where fleshe and fell must sleepe
What is thee cause you answerde not, to that whiche I wrott last:
You do conclude muche lyke a thefe, whiche is condēnde and cast.
For at the barre hee pratethe long, & can no reason shewe:
To clere hym selfe and saue his lyfe whan trueth doeth hym orethrow.
So you all thoughe withe matter now, I do you styll assault:
Yet withe great shame you are content, to yelde vnto your fault.
I wrate more thinges than one or two, yet reade them ons agayn:
I do perceiue a littell thing, wille soone orecomme your braine.
You haue sought councell fourteen daies, it seems that you dyd dreame:
Or els ye thought to rune awaye, into somme other realme.
But now I heare a sodayn sounde, the beast begyns to braye:
It is muche like a Camells voyce, that dwelles in lyn they saye.
Be as be may you say your selfe, ye byd me foet it well,
why will the beast now lead the daunce, with beastes I will not mell.
But wheare yon saye, I whē out whens, aboue eala a note,
You gront and groen from gammuth farre, I dare you gage my cott.
Sins you will put me to my trompe, with a false carde often,
Marke howe iustice shall ioyn to trueth, I will make large this when.
Note Though iustice doeth belōge to Rex, whose swoord puts that in vre,
Yet euery iustice vnder him is not so iust and pure.
Because there bee knightes of the post, whiche will them selues forswere,
And fained trueth will forge a tale, sometimes in iustice eare.
And worke such wils, iustice to blynde, and make him credit lyes.
Suche crafty mistes these men can cast, before true iustice eies.
Thoughe iustice of him selfe is pure and cleane deuoide of crime,
Yet falce witnes may alter him, and chaunge his minde somtime.
Thee faut ther of is not in hym, he woulde fayn ioyn to truthe.
But flatteryng faith, may him corrupt, alas the more is ruthe.
Whan truthe is forman of the quest, and right shall vardyt gyue,
Than iustice shall ioyn styll to truethe, & so together liue.
Thus is this when made manifeste, truely as I it mēt
And yet it was ful plain before, to euery true entent.
Here haue I waide what iustice is, to whome it dothe pertain,
who swaies the sworde, who dothe decree, heare haue I set out plain.
Now staye a whil, & marke this when, whiche you calle principall,
And is ye beaste amonge the rest and, stādeth last of all
Note when rex doth reign (And) rule the rost, a coniuetion copulatiue,
Your master taught you not to know, could he such thīgs discriue?
Now Rex doth rayne whom god preserue, in long life on vs here,
And sende him rule the rost himselfe, as prince withouten per.
That he may fynde those secrete flighes, whiche nowe in corners lye:
And suche as do abuse his lawes and liue so wickedlye.
It semes they lyue as they delyght, and leane not to his lore,
Bycause he doth commende them lawes and they passe not therfore.
Howe dothe the master of the scole, his scollers rule and tame:
whan he doth geue precepts and rules, and none doth kepe the same.
How doeth ye kyng his peopl rule, let this be better waide
whan hee dothe geue them lawes and actes and none of them obeyde.
For thoughe ye Rex do rayne and rule, as I beleue in dede
Yet dothe not hee for mercye greate, ye wicked al out wede
And lyk as God is mercyful so doeth our kyng in dede:
Enswe and folowe in his steppes, (whom God defend and spede.)
His Iustice is to punish sine with death & payne extreme;
which is most godly exercisd and so doeth shewe and seme
Yet yf al those that do offēde, should haue such punishemēt
what man is liuinge nowe a dayes, that shoulde escape vnshente?
But folowyng the example of, the Lorde and kynge of kynges:
Dothe often suffer vs vnkinde, in vyle and greuous thinges.
Becaus he would (as it doth seme, so mercifull and dere:)
Bee rather loue thē obeyed or only dreade and feare.
And this hys mercye godly mente, dooth make vs worse in dede:
As scollers when they lacke the rodde, do lyue withouten drede.
But when he shall begynne again, to punish wyckednes:
whiche is his iustice (or more playne,) to vs but ryghtousnes.
Then folk for feare (but not for loue,) shall better ende theyr life
As horses whipt, ye then for feare shall stynte and cease our strife.
wherfore yf euery kynge this daye whiche oughte in dede to raingne:
Do raygne and rule the rost and weede, the wicked oute ful plaine.
Then haue they welth with outē stryfe, which God geue vs ryght sone:
That all oure wyckednes were paste, and dredfull dayes were done.
If Dycar sayde, when Rex doth rayne, & al mē doe obey
How could you Camel, thus conclude? he raygneth not to daye.
Note Or if he sayd, when Christ is God, and you a faythfull mam:
would ye conclude? ergo, (to him,) he is not God now thā
wherfor yf Rex do raygne & rule, as I beleue he doeth:
And I beseche almyghtye god, he maye do lōge in sothe
Yet muste you take another poynt, conteined in this whē
when Rex dothe raygne and rule the rost, and wedes oute wyked men.
You muste not harken halfe the tale an leaue thee reste behynde:
for than in dede you do amysse, and fayne woulde quareles fynde
You Redde in faythe muche like the nunne omnia probate
And turned not thee other syde quod bonum est tenete.
Redde you no more but Rex doeth raygne, and lefte the reste vnspyed:
Is there not to) and rule the roste, the sentences is so tyde.
And wede oute wiked wordly men, thee spotted from the cleane:
whose vyce infectes the chosen lambes, lo thus dyd Dicar meane.
He doubted not but Rex doethe roigne, the truethe it selfe doethe showe:
But yet he thōghte it good to wede, oute wycked men I trowe.
And thus I say dyd Dicar dreame, thee sence doethe plainly tell
Yf vpryght eies and rihteous mindes, do loke and skan him well.
If you shulde bee my iudge I se, and deme my dreminge thus
I shulde haue but short, curtesy, and you my cause discus,
But god hath sawed your hornes so short, no great hurt do you can
Hee made you nether lorde nor iudge, nor skarse an honest man,
whan Rex doth raigne and rule the rost, and out thee wicked weede,
Than you and many other lyke, would fyrst of al preced
But where you set a snare and net, for these that well entende.
To showe what is the very cause, of euill and the ende.
There you yourself (and if it were, applied wel in fram
As he hath ment) shulde certainly be catchid in the same
what if I shulde cast furth the bone, you thoughte to choke me with:
Perhappes you may repent to late, you went so nie ye pyth
Wher is your lesson now be come, you lernd so long ago,
That spide suche faute in dicars dreme, and yet conceilde it so.
Note If it had raught to Iupiters seate as you affirme in dede
You ought not it haue kept so long, but straight it told with spede.
Or if you thought you saw the myst, that no man elles coulde skrye,
There shulde no cause haue stopte you so, to tel it by & by
If dicars when, as true it is he clere from blame & blotte
Yet your offēc is no whit less by caus you thought it not.
If ignoraunce had sayd a mysse, ye same be my defence,
Yet wilful ignoraūc in you, dothe pleade your great offence.
Behold of god ye rightuouse scourdge, that now amydde the gryn:
You layde to trappe the innocēt your selfe is fallē therī
What say you nowe wise camelles caulse, if rex wede wicked men,
You shuld of right be tide to short, to peruerte dicars whē
But tyll suche spyders bee wede out, and all theyr cob webes to,
That sekes to trappe the sellye flies, as you begyn to do.
The barnes I say that here do wonne, with in this brittaine lande,
Shall byde alas those dred full daies, and dicars dreme may stande.
O Syr you toke my thenin hand, wher wt mi whē I knit
where I perceiue your franityke head, begins, another fyt.
Note Can you denie the plages of god, whiche he to vs hath sent?
And scourgeth vs for our great sinnes, from which we not repent.
Doeth not thee plowe man plowe his grownde, and laborith vereisor.
The earth bringes forthe his fruite like wyse, encreasyng more and more
Doeth not the heauens gyue vs rayne, the watters gyues vs fyshe?
Doeth not the counsell seeke oure welth, as well as we can wishe?
Do not they take great care & payne, all euells to redresse
Yes all these thinges doe worke as well, as mans tōg can expresse.
Yet though oure kinge do make good lawes, the earth bringes forth muche sede:
Tust gracious God of hys goodnes, will helpe oure miserie
within thee towne wheare you doe dwell, you know no dred nor strife:
Than is it sure a paradise, I laye theron my lyfe.
For I haue traueld here and theare, & sought this world well wide:
to fynde a resting quyet place where I would fain abyde.
But in this wery pilgrimag I neuer found suche stay:
Nor suche a vertuous towne as Lin, yf it be as you saye
Yf you haue done as muche in Line, as you in Lōdō haue
I thinke that al your neighbours woulde, sone wyshe you in your graue.
For we were here in quyet al vntyll you came to towne:
Sence that we could not lyue in reast, for suche a contrey clowne.
And Dauie Dicars Dreme forsooth, was lowed of euery man:
Tyll you began youre wranglyng reimes, to brall vpon his whan.
Wherin you lost your honest name, you could not lose muche more:
Thus are you put to open shame, and haue no thanke therfore.
Go showe your coūcell on by on what gain you here haue got:
Herman wil helpe to rowe you hom, good syr nowe take your botte.
Nowe trudge a waye feare gentill beast, and kycke no more at me:
And let them lyue in peace and rest, that thinkes no harme to the.
Thus here I take my leaue from you, wishing for grace and healthe:
To kepe my prince from all his foes, & eke ye cōun wealth
Condēne no cause till trueth be tryed, giue eare and lyst a whyle.
And marke my tale from point to point, let no worde skip vnskande:
And heare them withe indiffrent eares, and way them as they stande.
Fyrst lay aside affecciō blind for truethe my cause muste pleade,
Let nether foe nor fained frend, this matter Iudge nor reade.
That blowes the trompet of defam, whiche geues vncertain sound.
The tune wher of semes yet ful straunge, so boistrous is the blast:
But quiet calmes settes forth stil windes, when stormes begon and past.
Whiche quyet time I wish to haue, that I may be well harde.
And thē I hope this vypars bryde, shall haue his iust rewarde.
That forgeth fautes and seeketh holes, to crepe and scale therin:
And flattereth for no other cause but fame or gayne to winne.
What thinkes this man he hath more witte, & learning in his head.
Than hathe fyue thousand other men, that (Dicarres dreame hath read.
Or thinkes hee that I am so rashe, to run so far frō square
Or that I make such obcure thinges, that I dare not declare.
Than is hee blynde and veryfond, and scarce him selfe doeth know.
Let him loke on his booke againe, his rule is nothinge so.
To you I speake frēd Camel now, which wreketh ryght to wrong:
You saye you haue ben kept at scole, in soothe I thinke not longe.
Your master dyd but stroke your head, he dyd for beare the rodde:
I dout he dyd not teache you well, howe you should feare your God.
For if hee had you woulde haue stayed, to wryte against this dreame:
To spye a mote within my eie, since in yours is a beame
Yf you might site and iudge my cause, I shoulde soone feele your worst:
But God forbyd there were long hornes, on beastes that would be corst.
Thee beaste will turne you gage a grote, yf he be prickte with goade.
Nowe turne syr beaste and come aloft, fling not for fear of whip:
In dede it is a monstruse thynge, to see a Camelle skipe.
You say you shoke me by the sleue, than rubde I your gall packe:
Yf I know howe to doo you good my healpe you should not lacke.
We I ompe in leasse, ye gab fyre beaste, I am but one alone:
But I can proue (O beavv Camevv) that you are moe then on.
My surreioyndrer doethe declrare, this dreame was for the best:
And yet you crye, abandye ho at tenues thus ye ieste.
What can you laye vnto my charge, of malyce or of hate:
Since I do wyshe that euery wyght, shulde walke in his estate.
This veerse you hyppe, and yet it standes, next that whē rex doeth rayng:
Bothe these be good and godlye to, here shall I showe you plaine.
But as I sayde, out of faire flours, thee spyder poyson takes:
And yet the bee doeth feede theron, and ther with hony makes
I do compare this spyder nowe, to you whiche so apperes.
For that you run a patheles waye, to leade me in thee breerres.
Wheare fynde you this that dreames can haue, any effect at all.
Be not they fancyes of thee hed and so wyse men thē call
why do you wryte against a dreme, whiche hath a small effect,
You ment no more but mee to learne, so you woolde you excuse:
Syr yf you mynde to kepe a frynde, do not your frinde so vse.
You bragge you of your master much when you to skool dyd goe:
You sayde ye larned your duetie well good syr it seems not soe.
To serue the king and praye for hym, I learnede as well as you:
To loue hym leall for concyens sake this lesson well I knew.
His councell ecke for to obay my dueti learnes me too:
And withe ther matters not to mell, nor therin haue to do.
This lesson heether to I kept, and shall here after kepe:
Tylle I to earthe retorne again, where fleshe and fell must sleepe
What is thee cause you answerde not, to that whiche I wrott last:
You do conclude muche lyke a thefe, whiche is condēnde and cast.
For at the barre hee pratethe long, & can no reason shewe:
To clere hym selfe and saue his lyfe whan trueth doeth hym orethrow.
So you all thoughe withe matter now, I do you styll assault:
Yet withe great shame you are content, to yelde vnto your fault.
I wrate more thinges than one or two, yet reade them ons agayn:
I do perceiue a littell thing, wille soone orecomme your braine.
You haue sought councell fourteen daies, it seems that you dyd dreame:
Or els ye thought to rune awaye, into somme other realme.
But now I heare a sodayn sounde, the beast begyns to braye:
Be as be may you say your selfe, ye byd me foet it well,
why will the beast now lead the daunce, with beastes I will not mell.
But wheare yon saye, I whē out whens, aboue eala a note,
You gront and groen from gammuth farre, I dare you gage my cott.
Sins you will put me to my trompe, with a false carde often,
Marke howe iustice shall ioyn to trueth, I will make large this when.
Note Though iustice doeth belōge to Rex, whose swoord puts that in vre,
Yet euery iustice vnder him is not so iust and pure.
Because there bee knightes of the post, whiche will them selues forswere,
And fained trueth will forge a tale, sometimes in iustice eare.
And worke such wils, iustice to blynde, and make him credit lyes.
Suche crafty mistes these men can cast, before true iustice eies.
Thoughe iustice of him selfe is pure and cleane deuoide of crime,
Yet falce witnes may alter him, and chaunge his minde somtime.
Thee faut ther of is not in hym, he woulde fayn ioyn to truthe.
But flatteryng faith, may him corrupt, alas the more is ruthe.
Whan truthe is forman of the quest, and right shall vardyt gyue,
Than iustice shall ioyn styll to truethe, & so together liue.
Thus is this when made manifeste, truely as I it mēt
And yet it was ful plain before, to euery true entent.
Here haue I waide what iustice is, to whome it dothe pertain,
who swaies the sworde, who dothe decree, heare haue I set out plain.
And is ye beaste amonge the rest and, stādeth last of all
Note when rex doth reign (And) rule the rost, a coniuetion copulatiue,
Your master taught you not to know, could he such thīgs discriue?
Now Rex doth rayne whom god preserue, in long life on vs here,
And sende him rule the rost himselfe, as prince withouten per.
That he may fynde those secrete flighes, whiche nowe in corners lye:
And suche as do abuse his lawes and liue so wickedlye.
It semes they lyue as they delyght, and leane not to his lore,
Bycause he doth commende them lawes and they passe not therfore.
Howe dothe the master of the scole, his scollers rule and tame:
whan he doth geue precepts and rules, and none doth kepe the same.
How doeth ye kyng his peopl rule, let this be better waide
whan hee dothe geue them lawes and actes and none of them obeyde.
For thoughe ye Rex do rayne and rule, as I beleue in dede
Yet dothe not hee for mercye greate, ye wicked al out wede
And lyk as God is mercyful so doeth our kyng in dede:
Enswe and folowe in his steppes, (whom God defend and spede.)
His Iustice is to punish sine with death & payne extreme;
which is most godly exercisd and so doeth shewe and seme
Yet yf al those that do offēde, should haue such punishemēt
what man is liuinge nowe a dayes, that shoulde escape vnshente?
But folowyng the example of, the Lorde and kynge of kynges:
Dothe often suffer vs vnkinde, in vyle and greuous thinges.
Becaus he would (as it doth seme, so mercifull and dere:)
And this hys mercye godly mente, dooth make vs worse in dede:
As scollers when they lacke the rodde, do lyue withouten drede.
But when he shall begynne again, to punish wyckednes:
whiche is his iustice (or more playne,) to vs but ryghtousnes.
Then folk for feare (but not for loue,) shall better ende theyr life
As horses whipt, ye then for feare shall stynte and cease our strife.
wherfore yf euery kynge this daye whiche oughte in dede to raingne:
Do raygne and rule the rost and weede, the wicked oute ful plaine.
Then haue they welth with outē stryfe, which God geue vs ryght sone:
That all oure wyckednes were paste, and dredfull dayes were done.
If Dycar sayde, when Rex doth rayne, & al mē doe obey
How could you Camel, thus conclude? he raygneth not to daye.
Note Or if he sayd, when Christ is God, and you a faythfull mam:
would ye conclude? ergo, (to him,) he is not God now thā
wherfor yf Rex do raygne & rule, as I beleue he doeth:
And I beseche almyghtye god, he maye do lōge in sothe
Yet muste you take another poynt, conteined in this whē
when Rex dothe raygne and rule the rost, and wedes oute wyked men.
You muste not harken halfe the tale an leaue thee reste behynde:
for than in dede you do amysse, and fayne woulde quareles fynde
You Redde in faythe muche like the nunne omnia probate
And turned not thee other syde quod bonum est tenete.
Redde you no more but Rex doeth raygne, and lefte the reste vnspyed:
And wede oute wiked wordly men, thee spotted from the cleane:
whose vyce infectes the chosen lambes, lo thus dyd Dicar meane.
He doubted not but Rex doethe roigne, the truethe it selfe doethe showe:
But yet he thōghte it good to wede, oute wycked men I trowe.
And thus I say dyd Dicar dreame, thee sence doethe plainly tell
Yf vpryght eies and rihteous mindes, do loke and skan him well.
If you shulde bee my iudge I se, and deme my dreminge thus
I shulde haue but short, curtesy, and you my cause discus,
But god hath sawed your hornes so short, no great hurt do you can
Hee made you nether lorde nor iudge, nor skarse an honest man,
whan Rex doth raigne and rule the rost, and out thee wicked weede,
Than you and many other lyke, would fyrst of al preced
But where you set a snare and net, for these that well entende.
To showe what is the very cause, of euill and the ende.
There you yourself (and if it were, applied wel in fram
As he hath ment) shulde certainly be catchid in the same
what if I shulde cast furth the bone, you thoughte to choke me with:
Perhappes you may repent to late, you went so nie ye pyth
Wher is your lesson now be come, you lernd so long ago,
That spide suche faute in dicars dreme, and yet conceilde it so.
Note If it had raught to Iupiters seate as you affirme in dede
You ought not it haue kept so long, but straight it told with spede.
Or if you thought you saw the myst, that no man elles coulde skrye,
If dicars when, as true it is he clere from blame & blotte
Yet your offēc is no whit less by caus you thought it not.
If ignoraunce had sayd a mysse, ye same be my defence,
Yet wilful ignoraūc in you, dothe pleade your great offence.
Behold of god ye rightuouse scourdge, that now amydde the gryn:
You layde to trappe the innocēt your selfe is fallē therī
What say you nowe wise camelles caulse, if rex wede wicked men,
You shuld of right be tide to short, to peruerte dicars whē
But tyll suche spyders bee wede out, and all theyr cob webes to,
That sekes to trappe the sellye flies, as you begyn to do.
The barnes I say that here do wonne, with in this brittaine lande,
Shall byde alas those dred full daies, and dicars dreme may stande.
O Syr you toke my thenin hand, wher wt mi whē I knit
where I perceiue your franityke head, begins, another fyt.
Note Can you denie the plages of god, whiche he to vs hath sent?
And scourgeth vs for our great sinnes, from which we not repent.
Doeth not thee plowe man plowe his grownde, and laborith vereisor.
The earth bringes forthe his fruite like wyse, encreasyng more and more
Doeth not the heauens gyue vs rayne, the watters gyues vs fyshe?
Doeth not the counsell seeke oure welth, as well as we can wishe?
Do not they take great care & payne, all euells to redresse
Yes all these thinges doe worke as well, as mans tōg can expresse.
Yet though oure kinge do make good lawes, the earth bringes forth muche sede:
within thee towne wheare you doe dwell, you know no dred nor strife:
Than is it sure a paradise, I laye theron my lyfe.
For I haue traueld here and theare, & sought this world well wide:
to fynde a resting quyet place where I would fain abyde.
But in this wery pilgrimag I neuer found suche stay:
Nor suche a vertuous towne as Lin, yf it be as you saye
Yf you haue done as muche in Line, as you in Lōdō haue
I thinke that al your neighbours woulde, sone wyshe you in your graue.
For we were here in quyet al vntyll you came to towne:
Sence that we could not lyue in reast, for suche a contrey clowne.
And Dauie Dicars Dreme forsooth, was lowed of euery man:
Tyll you began youre wranglyng reimes, to brall vpon his whan.
Wherin you lost your honest name, you could not lose muche more:
Thus are you put to open shame, and haue no thanke therfore.
Go showe your coūcell on by on what gain you here haue got:
Herman wil helpe to rowe you hom, good syr nowe take your botte.
Nowe trudge a waye feare gentill beast, and kycke no more at me:
And let them lyue in peace and rest, that thinkes no harme to the.
Thus here I take my leaue from you, wishing for grace and healthe:
To kepe my prince from all his foes, & eke ye cōun wealth
Camelles crosse rowe.
Doth playne y showe,
Wythouten lyes or gyle:
His foolyshe feattes,
With raging freates,
The truthe for to reuyle.
Wythouten lyes or gyle:
His foolyshe feattes,
With raging freates,
The truthe for to reuyle.
A wycked
man doth set his minde, his heart, & hole intent,
To sclaunder truthe, & godlynesse, and hurt the innocēt.
But blessed be all those that be so falsly lyed apon:
And pacyently do suffre it, whome God dothe helpe eche one.
Catche no mā in his words to sooke, but reade for better minde.
For so the Ieswes pursued Christe, some tryp with him to fynde.
Discencion, discorde, variaunce, & those yt make debate,
The Lord that loueth vniti, dothe sore detest and hate.
Embrace & loue your enemi Chryst byddeth very plaine:
How can you so? whan you for loue do rēdre hate again
Forsake your forged lyes. & turne your flattery to truth:
And leaue in age the wyckednesse that you had in your youthe.
God gyueth all the gyftes, to man, the whiche be good and pure:
For of our selfe we haue nothyng but euell, I am sure.
Haue no delyte, the gyltes of God, so wyckedly to vse,
To slaūder good & vertuous thynges: I cānot you excuse
I praye to God the Lord of myght, yt eueri wycked tongo
Myght ones by roote be weded out his people frō a mōg
Knowe well before you knit your knot, the meaning, and the ende:
And learne, at thinges of Godlynesse, your wycked lyfe to mende.
Lyke as thee Horse dothe wynse whan he is rubbed on the gall:
So wicked do at godlye thīgs, to mēd their lyf, withal
Moche euel comes by those that wold mayntaine all wyckednesse,
And eke peruert instruction good, & sclaunder godlinesse
No man can serue two masters wel & please thē am wis
Ye cannot serue our master Christe, & flatter forging lies.
Of suttle beawe and glosing wordes thee commune sorte in dede
Are euermor deceaued quite wherto they tak great ease.
Perceaue & see the beame so gret which is befor thin eies:
And thā correct thy brothers fault, withoutē fraude or lies
Quēch firste this your malicious mynde, yt burneth like the fier.
And thā your sclaūder certaīly wyl not be thought of Ire.
Remēber that you reconcyle you to your brother againe:
Or els your offring wyl not be receaued, this is plaine.
Speake nothing iudgyng any mā, ye wise mā doth exort
with vnaduysed wylfulnes, nor gruing ill reporte
Taūte non for vertue, while thou lyuest: for than thou art not wise:
And wylt bee truly taken for a foole, maintaining vice.
Whan Camel folowes any pointe of this as it aperes,
And leaueth beaw & suttle wordes: we shal haue pleasant yeres.
Uewe this good reader folowing & that which is befor
To thend to frame thy lyfe therto, & mend it euer more.
X Christ bideth vs ensue his stepps, & suffre wrōg & greife
As he hathe suffred greuous paīe, which is our health & lif
You most sayth Christ obserue and kepe, for very inward zeale,
His Godli & deuine precepts & than you shall haue weale.
Zachary was, for godlines, of wyll and not constrainde)
Imputed iust before ye Lord I know this is not fainde.
usAND fynali we ought to leaue al sclaūder lyes & strife
For nothing is more wickedder in mānes or womās lyfe
usCONsidering yt we shall gyue accōptes, before ye lorde
Of al our dedes, our wicked thoughts, & euery ydel word
ESTeme not this as vanytie, & nedelesse matters eke
For than in ye good brother mie) is wysdōe farre to seeke
AMENde thy lyfe by these preceptes, and beare me no disdaine.
And than passe I nothyng at all thoughe it be thankelesse gayne.
To sclaunder truthe, & godlynesse, and hurt the innocēt.
But blessed be all those that be so falsly lyed apon:
And pacyently do suffre it, whome God dothe helpe eche one.
Catche no mā in his words to sooke, but reade for better minde.
For so the Ieswes pursued Christe, some tryp with him to fynde.
Discencion, discorde, variaunce, & those yt make debate,
The Lord that loueth vniti, dothe sore detest and hate.
Embrace & loue your enemi Chryst byddeth very plaine:
How can you so? whan you for loue do rēdre hate again
Forsake your forged lyes. & turne your flattery to truth:
And leaue in age the wyckednesse that you had in your youthe.
God gyueth all the gyftes, to man, the whiche be good and pure:
For of our selfe we haue nothyng but euell, I am sure.
Haue no delyte, the gyltes of God, so wyckedly to vse,
To slaūder good & vertuous thynges: I cānot you excuse
I praye to God the Lord of myght, yt eueri wycked tongo
Myght ones by roote be weded out his people frō a mōg
Knowe well before you knit your knot, the meaning, and the ende:
And learne, at thinges of Godlynesse, your wycked lyfe to mende.
Lyke as thee Horse dothe wynse whan he is rubbed on the gall:
So wicked do at godlye thīgs, to mēd their lyf, withal
Moche euel comes by those that wold mayntaine all wyckednesse,
And eke peruert instruction good, & sclaunder godlinesse
No man can serue two masters wel & please thē am wis
Ye cannot serue our master Christe, & flatter forging lies.
Of suttle beawe and glosing wordes thee commune sorte in dede
Perceaue & see the beame so gret which is befor thin eies:
And thā correct thy brothers fault, withoutē fraude or lies
Quēch firste this your malicious mynde, yt burneth like the fier.
And thā your sclaūder certaīly wyl not be thought of Ire.
Remēber that you reconcyle you to your brother againe:
Or els your offring wyl not be receaued, this is plaine.
Speake nothing iudgyng any mā, ye wise mā doth exort
with vnaduysed wylfulnes, nor gruing ill reporte
Taūte non for vertue, while thou lyuest: for than thou art not wise:
And wylt bee truly taken for a foole, maintaining vice.
Whan Camel folowes any pointe of this as it aperes,
And leaueth beaw & suttle wordes: we shal haue pleasant yeres.
Uewe this good reader folowing & that which is befor
To thend to frame thy lyfe therto, & mend it euer more.
X Christ bideth vs ensue his stepps, & suffre wrōg & greife
As he hathe suffred greuous paīe, which is our health & lif
You most sayth Christ obserue and kepe, for very inward zeale,
His Godli & deuine precepts & than you shall haue weale.
Zachary was, for godlines, of wyll and not constrainde)
Imputed iust before ye Lord I know this is not fainde.
usAND fynali we ought to leaue al sclaūder lyes & strife
For nothing is more wickedder in mānes or womās lyfe
usCONsidering yt we shall gyue accōptes, before ye lorde
Of al our dedes, our wicked thoughts, & euery ydel word
ESTeme not this as vanytie, & nedelesse matters eke
For than in ye good brother mie) is wysdōe farre to seeke
AMENde thy lyfe by these preceptes, and beare me no disdaine.
And than passe I nothyng at all thoughe it be thankelesse gayne.
FINIS.
| The Contention bettwyxte Churchyeard and Camell | |