 | The upcheringe of the messe |  |
[Who hath not knowē or herd]
Who
hath not knowē or herd
how we were made a feard
That magre of our beard
Our messe shulde cleane awaye
That we did dayly saye
And vtterly decaye
For euer and for aye
So were we brought in doubte
That all that are deuout
Were like to go withoute
The messe that hath no peere
Which longe hath taried here
Yea many an hundreth yere
And to be destitute
Of that whiche constitute
was of the highe depute
Of Christe and his apostles
Althoughe none of the Gospels
No mencion maketh or tells
We must beleue what ells?
Of things done by councells.
Wherin the high professours
Apostlique successours
Take holde to be possessours
And some wer made confessours
Some of them were no startars
But were made holi marters
Yet plowmen smythes & cartars
With such as be their hartars
Will enterprise to taxe
Thes auncyent mens actes
And holy fathers factes
Thoughe messe were made bi mē
As popes nyne or ten
Or many more what then?
Or not of scripture grounded
Is yt therfore confounded
To be a supersticion?
Nay nay they mysse the quission
Make better Inquysicion
Ye haue an euyll condicion
To make suche exposicion
Ye thinke nothing but scripture
Is only clene and pure
Yes yes I you ensure
The messe shalbe hir better
As light as ye do set hir
how we were made a feard
That magre of our beard
Our messe shulde cleane awaye
That we did dayly saye
And vtterly decaye
For euer and for aye
So were we brought in doubte
That all that are deuout
Were like to go withoute
The messe that hath no peere
Which longe hath taried here
Yea many an hundreth yere
And to be destitute
Of that whiche constitute
was of the highe depute
Of Christe and his apostles
Althoughe none of the Gospels
No mencion maketh or tells
We must beleue what ells?
Of things done by councells.
Wherin the high professours
Apostlique successours
Take holde to be possessours
And some wer made confessours
Some of them were no startars
Yet plowmen smythes & cartars
With such as be their hartars
Will enterprise to taxe
Thes auncyent mens actes
And holy fathers factes
Thoughe messe were made bi mē
As popes nyne or ten
Or many more what then?
Or not of scripture grounded
Is yt therfore confounded
To be a supersticion?
Nay nay they mysse the quission
Make better Inquysicion
Ye haue an euyll condicion
To make suche exposicion
Ye thinke nothing but scripture
Is only clene and pure
Yes yes I you ensure
The messe shalbe hir better
As light as ye do set hir
The scripture hath nothing
Wher by profyte to bryng
But a lytyll preaching
With tattling and teaching
And nothing can ye espie
Nor se with outwarde eye
But must your ears applie
To learnyng inwardlye
And who so it will folowe
In goods though he may walow
If scripture once him swalowe
She wyll vndo him holowe
Wherfore no good mes singers
Will come wtin hir fyngers
But are hir vnder styngers
For she wolde fayne vndo
All such as lyueth so
Wher by profyte to bryng
But a lytyll preaching
With tattling and teaching
And nothing can ye espie
But must your ears applie
To learnyng inwardlye
And who so it will folowe
In goods though he may walow
If scripture once him swalowe
She wyll vndo him holowe
Wherfore no good mes singers
Will come wtin hir fyngers
But are hir vnder styngers
For she wolde fayne vndo
All such as lyueth so
To the messe she is an enymye
And wolde distroye hir vtterlye
Wer not for sum that frendfully
In time of nede will stand hir by
Yet is the messe and she as lyke
As a christian to an heretike
The messe hath holy vestures
And many gay gestures
And decked with clothe of golde
And vessells many folde
Right galaunt to beholde
More then may well be tolde
With basen ewer and towell
And many a prety Iwelle
With goodly candellstyckes
And many proper tryckys
With cruetts gilt, and chalys
Wherat some men haue malice
With sensers and with pax
And many other knackys
With patent and with corporas
The fynest thing that euer was
Alasse is it not pitie
That men be no more wittye
But on the messe to Iest
Of all suche thinge the best
For if she were supprest
A pyn for all the rest.
And wolde distroye hir vtterlye
Wer not for sum that frendfully
In time of nede will stand hir by
Yet is the messe and she as lyke
As a christian to an heretike
The messe hath holy vestures
And many gay gestures
And decked with clothe of golde
And vessells many folde
Right galaunt to beholde
More then may well be tolde
With basen ewer and towell
And many a prety Iwelle
And many proper tryckys
With cruetts gilt, and chalys
Wherat some men haue malice
With sensers and with pax
And many other knackys
With patent and with corporas
The fynest thing that euer was
Alasse is it not pitie
That men be no more wittye
But on the messe to Iest
Of all suche thinge the best
For if she were supprest
A pyn for all the rest.
But harke to me a while
And marke ye well my style
All ye that speake so vyle
And woulde the messe exile
Tidynges I can you tel
She is like here to dwel
In dispite of the Gospel
For al his lokes so snel
And also I wyl proue
It wil the Gospel behoue
To sue to haue her loue
For within fewe yeres
He durst not for his eares
Be sene in all this land
Nor harde nor had in hand
But she had by hym stande
He was hir seruaunt than
Let him say what he can
With him durst no man
Meddle more or lesse
But whan he harde messe
This must he nedes confesse
Or eles in exposicions
Or doctors dispuicions
Such were the constitutions
And also institucions
Suche were their prohibicions
And also inhibicions
He durste not crie creake
Till he coulde englishe speake
But lyke an huddy peake
Kepe warme hys braynes weake
And nowe he is full cranke
And conneth hir no thanke
But compteth hir as ranke
As any on the bancke
But maister Euangelium
The tyme agayne may come
But wel ther mum
Ha, Ha, Hum.
And marke ye well my style
All ye that speake so vyle
And woulde the messe exile
Tidynges I can you tel
She is like here to dwel
In dispite of the Gospel
For al his lokes so snel
And also I wyl proue
It wil the Gospel behoue
To sue to haue her loue
For within fewe yeres
Be sene in all this land
Nor harde nor had in hand
But she had by hym stande
He was hir seruaunt than
Let him say what he can
With him durst no man
Meddle more or lesse
But whan he harde messe
This must he nedes confesse
Or eles in exposicions
Or doctors dispuicions
Such were the constitutions
And also institucions
Suche were their prohibicions
And also inhibicions
He durste not crie creake
Till he coulde englishe speake
But lyke an huddy peake
Kepe warme hys braynes weake
And nowe he is full cranke
And conneth hir no thanke
But compteth hir as ranke
As any on the bancke
But maister Euangelium
The tyme agayne may come
Ha, Ha, Hum.
Wel yet ther be some
That are not all dum
That long hath hold theyr peace
And were content to cease
Leste malice should encrese
To frie them in their grese
And nowe they be turned lose
They passe not of a gose
To saye the worst they can
By messe the powre woman
That are not all dum
That long hath hold theyr peace
And were content to cease
Leste malice should encrese
To frie them in their grese
And nowe they be turned lose
They passe not of a gose
To saye the worst they can
By messe the powre woman
What did I call hir pore?
Naye some wyl cal hir whore
And stireth a great vprore
Some cal hir popes daughter
Some sayes she made māslauhgter
Some turne hir to a laughter
Some wold they had not sought hir
Som cursseth hym yt brought hir
And him that first taught hir
Some say she is a leache
To make whole scabes & bleache
Some saye she is good for byles
And good for hum bledheles
And good for kowe or Oxe
That chafid be wyth yockes
And good for hens and cockes
To kepe them from the fox
They saye she is good for the pox
And such as haue sore dockes
And as for gaulde horse backes
That chased be with packes
With panyers and wyth sackes
No helpe they saye she lackes
And good for meselde hogges
And also maungye dogges
But for a Winchester goslynge
They saye she passeth al thing
She bringeth wether clere
And seasonable yere
And if it neade agayne
They saye she bringeth raine
She seaceth thonder lowde
And carieth euerie cloude
They say the plage and pestilēce
The feuer and the epilence
The popish messe expelleth hēce
And grasse she maketh growe
And fayre wynde to blowe
And rule it highe and lowe
Her power is greate I trowe
And some saye wedes & thornes
She kepeth from the cornes
And yet some mockes & scornes
And say hir pristes make hornes
On eueninges and in mornes
Thus do they hir defame
And slaunder hir good name
Wherin they be to blame
For I can good wittnes fet
That she neuer holpe on yet
Naye some wyl cal hir whore
And stireth a great vprore
Some cal hir popes daughter
Some sayes she made māslauhgter
Some turne hir to a laughter
Some wold they had not sought hir
Som cursseth hym yt brought hir
And him that first taught hir
Some say she is a leache
To make whole scabes & bleache
Some saye she is good for byles
And good for hum bledheles
And good for kowe or Oxe
And good for hens and cockes
To kepe them from the fox
They saye she is good for the pox
And such as haue sore dockes
And as for gaulde horse backes
That chased be with packes
With panyers and wyth sackes
No helpe they saye she lackes
And good for meselde hogges
And also maungye dogges
But for a Winchester goslynge
They saye she passeth al thing
She bringeth wether clere
And seasonable yere
And if it neade agayne
They saye she bringeth raine
She seaceth thonder lowde
And carieth euerie cloude
They say the plage and pestilēce
The feuer and the epilence
The popish messe expelleth hēce
And grasse she maketh growe
And fayre wynde to blowe
And rule it highe and lowe
Her power is greate I trowe
She kepeth from the cornes
And yet some mockes & scornes
And say hir pristes make hornes
On eueninges and in mornes
Thus do they hir defame
And slaunder hir good name
Wherin they be to blame
For I can good wittnes fet
That she neuer holpe on yet
Thus thei speake and spare not
And what thei prate thei care not
For lowdly do they sounde
That missa is not founde
Within the byble boke
Who so theron shall loke
And yet they be a croke
Amisse the marcke they toke
Ther shal ye find misach
A wel, howe lyke ye thys knacke?
And what thei prate thei care not
For lowdly do they sounde
That missa is not founde
Within the byble boke
Who so theron shall loke
And yet they be a croke
Amisse the marcke they toke
Ther shal ye find misach
A wel, howe lyke ye thys knacke?
Wherefore loke about
And serche in and out
For she is no lowt
I put you out of doubt
She is not cleane forsaken
But very wel taken
Yea yea be lakin
She is worth a flicke of bacon
And if it be well sought
She wil not so be bought
Yet may ye se hir for nought
In many holy places
Within a fewe paces
An holy holy thinge
Especially when they synge
With mery piping
And besy chauntyng
We maye be veri glade
That yet the messe is had
For al it is so bad
The people be as mad
As euer they may be
The messe to here and se
Auengaunce on it for me
For I am al moste werye
I haue taken suche payne
To bringe hir home agayne
And serche in and out
For she is no lowt
I put you out of doubt
She is not cleane forsaken
But very wel taken
She is worth a flicke of bacon
And if it be well sought
She wil not so be bought
Yet may ye se hir for nought
In many holy places
Within a fewe paces
An holy holy thinge
Especially when they synge
With mery piping
And besy chauntyng
We maye be veri glade
That yet the messe is had
For al it is so bad
The people be as mad
As euer they may be
The messe to here and se
Auengaunce on it for me
For I am al moste werye
I haue taken suche payne
To bringe hir home agayne
Wherfore nowe totus mūdus
That round is and rotundus
Be mery and Iocundus
And sing the letabundus
With al the whole chorus
That here hath ben before vs
And al the sely soules
That hereth messe in poules
And in al places beside
In london that is wyde
Where messe is song or sayd
And be nothinge affraed
That she shal go awaye
But tary whyle she maye
For she must long continue
She hath suche greate retynue
Stronge men of bone and sinue
Ye can no better wyshe
They wyl sticke to their stochfish
And stande lyke lusty bloudes
Aduenturinge lyfe and goodes
And all to put in peril
For mastres missas quarel
And nothynge wil they shrincke
No more then for to drincke
To spake such as they thincke
No no they wyll not wincke
At matters to be sene
Nor let for king or quene
Ye gesse nere whom I meane
Yet is it sayed I wene
He caried not al cleane
Yet hath he bolder ben
Then other fiften
That round is and rotundus
Be mery and Iocundus
And sing the letabundus
With al the whole chorus
And al the sely soules
That hereth messe in poules
And in al places beside
In london that is wyde
Where messe is song or sayd
And be nothinge affraed
That she shal go awaye
But tary whyle she maye
For she must long continue
She hath suche greate retynue
Stronge men of bone and sinue
Ye can no better wyshe
They wyl sticke to their stochfish
And stande lyke lusty bloudes
Aduenturinge lyfe and goodes
And all to put in peril
For mastres missas quarel
And nothynge wil they shrincke
No more then for to drincke
To spake such as they thincke
No no they wyll not wincke
At matters to be sene
Nor let for king or quene
Ye gesse nere whom I meane
Yet is it sayed I wene
Yet hath he bolder ben
Then other fiften
Wherefore he maye be praysed
That such a noyse is raysed
And thorowe Englande voysed
That he woulde be so hardy
Thoughe he were taken tardy
He thought or he went thens
To declare his consciens
A man of muche sapience
And ful of goodly sentence
Wel lyke to wyn the audience
By his copious Eloquence
If wel he might enchieued
For many men beleued
That he coulde haue remeued
And wonne by his entent
Al that there were presente
Alacke they were not bent
To graunt or to consent
To suche thinges as he ment
That such a noyse is raysed
And thorowe Englande voysed
That he woulde be so hardy
Thoughe he were taken tardy
He thought or he went thens
To declare his consciens
A man of muche sapience
And ful of goodly sentence
Wel lyke to wyn the audience
By his copious Eloquence
If wel he might enchieued
For many men beleued
That he coulde haue remeued
And wonne by his entent
Al that there were presente
Alacke they were not bent
To graunt or to consent
To suche thinges as he ment
He talked that religions
With al their prety pigions
For good entent were wroughte
God wotteth what he thought
He spake it not for noughte
Though scripture he ne brought
But if he would haue sought
He coulde haue proued it there
Or a horse coulde lyke his eare
That taking awaye the il
They might haue stand stil
And in lyke case by Images
And all maner of ceremonies
With al their prety pigions
For good entent were wroughte
God wotteth what he thought
Though scripture he ne brought
But if he would haue sought
He coulde haue proued it there
Or a horse coulde lyke his eare
That taking awaye the il
They might haue stand stil
And in lyke case by Images
And all maner of ceremonies
But tushe let go thes bables
And al these fible fables
The messe he did auaunce
And highly hir enhaunce
To be of such perfection
As neadeth no correction
Nor yet to haue infection
For al hir late detection
Nor worthie of suspection
So cleare is hir confection
And purenes of complection
By catholyke election
She semes to take erection
Aboue the resurrection
Nor neuer was his lot
In hir to spie a spot
But cleane from blurre and blot
He loueth hir wel, god wot
There can no droncken sot
Loue more the good ale pot
I dare saye at this howre
Thoughe he be in the towre
Yet doeth he styl honoure
The messe that swete a flowre
And al these fible fables
The messe he did auaunce
And highly hir enhaunce
To be of such perfection
As neadeth no correction
Nor yet to haue infection
For al hir late detection
Nor worthie of suspection
So cleare is hir confection
And purenes of complection
By catholyke election
She semes to take erection
Aboue the resurrection
Nor neuer was his lot
In hir to spie a spot
But cleane from blurre and blot
There can no droncken sot
Loue more the good ale pot
I dare saye at this howre
Thoughe he be in the towre
Yet doeth he styl honoure
The messe that swete a flowre
Wherfore ye priestes al
That styl continue shal
With messinge in the temple
Forget not thys exemple
Of thys your father
That ye maye the rather
Obtayne the grace
To come to the place
Wher he doeth abyde
And loke ye do not slyde
But sticke to hir harde
Or elles all is marde
And whan ye may not chuse
Then must ye hir refuse
Ther wilbe heauy newes
As euer came to the stewes
The contrye is not fayre
And she liketh not the ayre
Wherfore if she appayre
Nedes home she muste repayre
There is no such remedie
As is hir natiue contrie
And if she chaunce to dye
I can not helpe it I
But synge place bo
Tut let hir gooe
I wene we get no mo
That styl continue shal
With messinge in the temple
Forget not thys exemple
Of thys your father
That ye maye the rather
Obtayne the grace
To come to the place
Wher he doeth abyde
And loke ye do not slyde
But sticke to hir harde
Or elles all is marde
And whan ye may not chuse
Then must ye hir refuse
Ther wilbe heauy newes
As euer came to the stewes
The contrye is not fayre
And she liketh not the ayre
Wherfore if she appayre
There is no such remedie
As is hir natiue contrie
And if she chaunce to dye
I can not helpe it I
But synge place bo
Tut let hir gooe
I wene we get no mo
A good mestres missa
Shal ye go from vs thissa?
Wel yet I muste ye kyssa
Alacke for payne I pyssa
To se the mone here Issa
Because ye muste departe
It greueth many an herte
That ye should from them start
But what then tushe a farte
Sins other shifte is none
But she must neades be gone
Nowe let vs synge eche one
boeth Iak and gyll and Ione
Requiem eternam
Lest penam sempiternam
For vitam supernam
And vmbram infernam
For veram lucernam
She chaunce to enherite
According to hir merite
Pro cuius memoria
Ye maye wel be soria
Full smale maye be your gloria
When ye shal heare thys storia
Then wil ye crie and roria
We shal so hir no moria
Et dicam vobis quare
She may no longer stare
Nor here with you regnare
But trudge ad vltra mare
And after habitare
In regno plutonico
Et E{ue} acronyco
Cum cetu babilonico
Et cantu diabolico
With pollers and p[illeg.]iller
And al hir well willers
And ther to dwel euer
And thus wil I leaue hir.
Shal ye go from vs thissa?
Wel yet I muste ye kyssa
Alacke for payne I pyssa
To se the mone here Issa
Because ye muste departe
It greueth many an herte
That ye should from them start
But what then tushe a farte
Sins other shifte is none
But she must neades be gone
Nowe let vs synge eche one
boeth Iak and gyll and Ione
Requiem eternam
Lest penam sempiternam
For vitam supernam
And vmbram infernam
For veram lucernam
According to hir merite
Pro cuius memoria
Ye maye wel be soria
Full smale maye be your gloria
When ye shal heare thys storia
Then wil ye crie and roria
We shal so hir no moria
Et dicam vobis quare
She may no longer stare
Nor here with you regnare
But trudge ad vltra mare
And after habitare
In regno plutonico
Et E{ue} acronyco
Cum cetu babilonico
Et cantu diabolico
With pollers and p[illeg.]iller
And al hir well willers
And ther to dwel euer
And thus wil I leaue hir.
FINIS.
| The upcheringe of the messe | |