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Vnus enim est Legislator & Iudex qui potest perdere & liberare. Iura dat vnus, oues cuius clementia sparsas Colligit, & miserum discipat ira gregem. Iacob. 4.


Ad Archipapistam

If in the sight of Saintes and men, Ingratitude be nought,
If friendly acts, with friendly mē, in frendly wise be wrought:
If interchanged Gratitude, be natures sole desire,
If good for good in man and beast, dame Duetie do require:
If enterlaced Loue be it, that ioyes the haughtie minde,
If Bountie be the only badge, to vertuous wightes assignde:
If mutural trade in traffique aye, be stil maintayned so:
Ingratitude to Uertue then, must needes be greatest foe.
Who then can take a benefite, and not requite the same?
What vertue great did euer die without reward of fame?
Why should we then forget our selues, to him that is so kinde?
Awake for shame, and at the least retourne a thankfull minde.
Is it not much, that he shoulde thinke to raise thee from thy fall,
And haue a care to see thee safe, which is the Lord of al?
Oh humble then, thy haughtie harte, cut of thy crooked scope,
Returne againe, and yeelde thy selfe vnto the holy Pope.
Whose fatherhood hath great regard, to win, that else were lost,
Who spareth neyther day nor night, nor any worldly cost,
To sende a heape of heauenly things from royall Rome to thee.
Do turne the booke, pervse them wel, and marke thē what they be,
And buy them whiles they may be had, and way not of the charge,
Their grace is gret, their power is strong, their warrāt very large.
For, helth of minde and bodie both, they bring, and feare thy foe:
Ech thunder, lightning, rage, and storme, they quickly ouerthrow.
And what annoyaunce is in man, they take it quite away.
And this is true, if al be true the Pope himself doth say.
Be thankeful then vnto the Pope, cast of thy care of welth,
And gladly giue thy glistering gold, to buy this happie helth.
For so before thy corps be colde, thy soule shal scale the skye,
And thou thy selfe shalt be a Saint, or else the Pope doth lie.
Then neyther wey the Queene, nor lawes, but cleaue vnto ye Pope,
And thou shalt be his sacred sonne, adopted by the rope.
As Storie was, and many moe (I trust) shal be agen,
Which God vouchsafe the obstinate, for Christ his sake, AMEN.

The Argument of the foresayde Booke or Letter commended vnto thee.
[_]

Prefatory poem to a letter addressed to Cardinal Reginald Pole by Cuthbert Tunstall, Bishop of Durham and John Stokesley, Bishop of London.

Th' aspiring mind, causd Reynold Poole to swarue,
And to become a Traytor to the King,
Troth tryes it out, and law and iustice bring
Vnto his mates such death as they deserue:
He quakes for feare, and through the Seas doth carue
To Rome, and there is by the holy Pope
Made Cardnall, and obteynes a larger scope.
With might and mayne Poole then the Pope doth serue,
And sayth the King may not be supreme head:
Two learned men which do lament his fall,
Send him this Booke, that follie to forbid.
Yet he (God wot) regards it not at all,
But like an Asse, doth for a Scarlet hatte,
Forsake his God, his King, and Countrey flatte.
(B. G.)

The maner and meanes of the Popes beginning.

Like as

The Iuie budde which from the beake of Iay
Falles to the ground, a thing of moment small,
By some kinde meanes at first is clad in clay
Then taketh roote, and after ginnes to scrall,
In groueling wise, vpon the slipprie grounde,
And smoothly so with leaues and tenders softe,
Holdes on the course, till some strong tree bee founde,
Through whose stoute helpe it may climbe vppe alofte:
Thereto it commes, and at the lowest foote
Takes holde of barke, and body doth embrace:
And feeling then increase of sappe and root,
Doth still climbe vppe, and windeth to the face
Of that same tree, and girds it in so faste,
As Iuie lyues, but tree is killde at laste.
Euen so the Pope
By warrant small, or none at all to find
In sacred writte, in humble flattring wise,
At firste did seeke to please the hawtie minde,
Of Christian Kings, by whome he sought t'arise:
And cleauing so, vnto that mightie stay,
Lifte vppe himselfe into his stately throne,
And by degrees hath got the rule and sway
Of al the world, and subiect is to none.
Not so content, doth counterchecke the Lord,
Whose Vicar sole on earth he claymes to be.
To Christian Kings, no rule he will afforde,
For all is his, and none must rule but he:
And so the prop, whereby he got his strength,
He would confound, and ouerthrow at length.
Euen like a Pope.

How proue you that?
Thus

Constantinus which the Monarchie did holde
Of Christendome, an Emperoure full good,
Gaue to the Pope, who then might be controlde
A sorte of lands, which did exalt his bloude.
But warely yet (preuenting Prelates pride)
Did call his gifte, the patrimon of Church,
Till afterwardes the Papistes do decide
That title, and to giue the troth a lurche,
They by that sparke do kindle first their fire,
Whereby they claime dominion of the Weast,
And then likewise to place the Pope the higher,
They seeke which way to breed the Prince vnrest.
And Iuie like, would wrap in homage bande,
The mightie Prince which gaue him first that lande,
In subtile wise.
For Steuchus writes in flattry of the Pope
Gainst Valla, that th' Emperour did giue
To Rome, the landes of all the Westerne scope:
And he himselfe, euen whiles that Pope did liue,
Did graunt the Pope to be the greater state.
And therevpon is ordred by decree,
Rome to be chiefe, and haue no earthly mate,
And that the Pope must rule, and none but hee,
In matters of Religion forsooth,
Nor other King hee will not there vouchsafe,
Bicause his sacred sword eache wrong must smooth.
And thus both swordes (you see) the Pope will haue,
And Iuie like, paste shame, doth pull adowne
Th' empire great, that gaue to him renowne,
In wonted guise.
Once is no custome.

Then another, touching the Charitie of the Pope.

Alexander the thirde of that same name,
Succeeded Adrian that was callde the fourth,
Whome Fredrike erst, that Emperour of fame
Lovde well, and gaue him gifts of greatest worth:
But Wealth made Pride, and Pride did cause the beast
To swell in minde, and beare himselfe so high,
As of the reste hee made the Emprour leaste,
And thought himselfe an ace aboue the skie.
Good Fredrike then repenting of his deede,
Thought good t'abase, a beast that so coulde rage,
And thrust him out of Germany with speede,
The Prelates pride, and peoples wrath t'asswage.
The Priest doth storme, and sweares he will requite
Th' Emprours acte, with sword and cruell spight,
If he were Pope.
And Pope hee was, and then immediatly
The smothring heat thrust forth a frantike fire,
His cursed Buls

Of Excommunication.

against this Prince doe fly
With roughest rage, to quenche the Popes desire.
The Pope doth cause th' Italians to rebell,
And for to builde the Citie of great fame
Of Alexandrîa, bycause he would expell
The Prince himselfe, and tooke the Cities name.
Not so content, at Venice afterwarde
Th' Emprour is, where Pope (through passing pride)
Alonely not vilependes the Prince, nor sparde
In worde and deede from modestie to slide,
But caused him full humblie to kneele downe,
And with his foote stroke off the Royall Crowne,
VVhen he was Pope.
The vvorst is saide.

A Comparison betwixt Christe and the Pope.

[_]

The rest of the document consists mostly of prose with occasional poems and comments in verse. Only the verse has been extracted. Editorial heads have been supplied to the verse fragments.

[On The Cause of Our Salvation.]

If that be true, which can nor will not lye,
If that be false, which was nor can be true:
It cone for tother tane do leade awry
The mindes of men, & make these mischiefes new:
If troth bring blisse, and falshood carke and care,
Is it not good to know them as they are?
Let troth haue then a blamelesse passage free,
And let Gods word, be ballaunce of the cause:
This little booke wil then declare to thee,
How farre the Pope, dissenteth from the lawes
Of God, and seeking honor, gold, and gayne,
Nought dreadeth God, nor feares eternal payne.
A florish fayre, alone he seekes to make,
And vnder white, to shrowde his colour blacke:
And then by craft, and for his profit sake,
The sincere word of God by force to racke:
So as the simple may not ther of deeme,
But be deceiude, and thinke them as they seeme.
As Zeuxis worke, the liuely birds deceivd,
Which peckt for grapes vpon a painted wall:
Euen so the Pope, if he be once receivde,
Wil leade awry the wisest wit of al:
For Zeuxis skill in paynting was not such,
But that in craft the Pope hath twice so much.

That so let sequele shorte expresse the cace,
Let Truth be Tutche to trie the golde from drosse:
Take nowe a time his farthell to vnlace,
Great is the gaine, and none at all the losse:
For treasons so shal die, or not increase,
Cut off the cause, and then th' effect wil cease.
Compare the Pope (which chalengeth to be
Christs Uicar here, and ouer all the earth)
With Christ our Lord, and they so well agree,
As light with darke, and blisfull life with death:
Then, if from Christe directly he doe ierre,
Lette Christ be Christe, and giue him leaue to erre.

The wordes of Christe.

Iohn. 14.

I am the way to Heauen by path direct:
Why seekst thou then to Heauen an other waye?
I am the truth, my word without suspect:
Why then in vaine, goste thou more vaine astray?
I am the life to myne, most certaine sure,
That neuer failes, why puttst thou more in vre?

Math. 12.

Come hither all that sinned haue to mee,
My bloudy wounds are in my fathers sight,
Discharge youre loades, youre burthens lay on mee,
The lawe is dashte, and you are claymed quite:
What man of flint from suche a Lorde will starte,
As buyes his foe by bleeding at the harte?
And true it is, sith he is Truth alone,
And none could quench the fathers wrath but hee:
And clayming all, he willes the death of none,
But by his death, from death hath set vs free:
Oh hearken then, and come when he doth call,
No Popish pelfe, but Christ hath bought vs all.

[On the use of Holy writing as a Safeguard.]

This tale (I trowe) doth somwhat touch the quicke,
And as it came from Heauen, so is it true,
For wrytings come from thence (you know) as thicke
As men make nuttes: this matter is not newe:
And more is done in Heauen, than we may know,
Beleeue the Pope, and reade another scrowe.

[On the Crosse of Christe.]

This thing that thus the Crosse of Christe doth show,
Must needs preuaile and take the full effect:
The argument is strong, there is no man I trow,
The Crosse of Christe that will or maye reiect,
But whiche is meant? his dome, his death and smarte?
Or else the Crosse which man did make by arte?

Know mortal man, the Crosse was made of wood,
The like whereof is yet vpon the ground:
But our safe port, consisteth in the bloud
Of Iesus Christ, the meane which God hath found,
Againe to get which Adams fall had lost,
Not else to winne for any worldly cost.
If so, then take these trifling toyes as vaine,
And trust to Christ which bids thee come at call:
Christ seeketh thee, the Pope doth seeke his gaine,
And will for golde make chaffre of vs all.
Let Pope be Pope, and truste in Christe alone,
For Crosse of life, besides his death is none.

[On the use of charms as a Safeguard.]

This charme at any time need not be sayde,
But man or wife, or childe that beareth it,
Of these at al, neede not to be afraide,
The charme it selfe will therof set him quite.
Thus hath it vertue, more than I can tell,
Or else the effect therof is very smal.
But if you reade and marke it very wel,
The shew is gay, and blasphemous withall.
But prating Prelates, which proll and prie for pence,
Wey God nor Diuel, so gaine may grow from thence.

[On the four safeguards sent by the Pope to King Charles].

Here hast thou seene my friend, foure noble things,
The first came down from heauen vnto the Pope,
Which he must yeeld to Charles that noble king,
Therein to put his comfort, life, and hope:
For he, and his, and all that beare the same,
Are therby quit from dolor, sinne, and shame.
An Epistle is the second writing flat,
Sent to the Pope by Sauior the Saint:
So long as Charles doth beare, or readeth that,
No foe, nor fire, haue force to make him faint:
No water drowne, no launce, nor sharpest knife,
Nor Iron toole, haue power to hurt his life.
The third, a charme should seeme of great effect,
Preseruing aye both man, and child, and wife,
From naughtie theeues, and persons to suspect,
That would impaire their bodies, goods or life:
Such strength it hath, thou needst not it to reede,
But beare the same, it will perfourme the deede.

The fourth thou seest, the place wher it was foūd,
By whom, and when, and what the vertue is,
A place of life, a place that doth abound
With streames of grace, of ioyes, & perfecte blysse:
That writing to, as suredly was there,
As now the Pope himselfe is present here.
If then thou wilt be cleare from force of warre,
If fires flame, nor waters rage shall dreade:
If neyther theef nor Iron toole shall scarre,
Thy iourney once: Then sticke not this to reade:
For sure, they must be perfect strong and true,
Or else the Pope is worse than Turke or Iew.
A Turke? nay worse. A Iew? a helhounde sure,
That thus would wash the bloud of Christ away:
The Diuel himselfe durst neuer put in vre,
The flocke of Christ so fouly to betray,
As to deface the merites of his death,
And make vs trust in trifling things on earth.
If Christ affirme, that he is life alone,
If other way to heauen there cannot be,
If other truth besides his truth be none,
What is he then, but may this mischiefe see?
A franticke man with pride bewitched still,
For money sake, the Saints of God will kill.
And yet for that I would not credite craue,
Without iust cause, note what this Leo was,
Iaphetus writes (my wordes you shal not haue)
A thing right straunge, and how it came to pas:
A noble childe, brought vp in vertuous hope,
Was made a wicked man by being Pope.

[Japhetus on Pope Leo X.]

Did Peter thus? is this the way to feede
Christs little flocke, whereof he tooke suche care?
No no God wot, this rauening Wolfe in deede
Will rend them quicke, and eate them as they are:
A Tigre fierce, a lumpe of raging sinne,
That seekes to spoyle, that Christe by death did winne.
What man or beast, what feend of Hell coulde say,
The Gospell pure a fable but to be?
But that the Lorde would by his mouth bewray
This Antichrist, that al the worlde might see
A Diuel in fleshe: which would for money sake,
Himselfe, and al the worlde to Hel betake.
But since of monstrous things we speake, proceede:
A monster foule begets as foule a whelpe,
A monstrous worde at first, and now a deede
In monstrous sorte, doth spring to be his helpe:
He prolles and pries, stil farther gaine to winne,
And gets him mates, to helpe his marte therein.

[Grebelius on Pope Leo X.]

Thus in English:

When Leo did purpose t'extorte the tithes of Germany,
What Oratour did he command into that place thinke ye?
One did he sēd, but paine it were, what one for to expresse,
Yet at a worde I will declare, forsooth a Monke, no lesse.

[On Grebelius' writing.]

A masse of mony nere was lewdly gote,
And yet more lewdly would haue bin imployde,
A myching Monke, and eke a myser hote,
Which many soules through falshood had destroyd,
Would nowe be Pope, through Simonie you see,
As suche there haue bin manye moe than hee.

[Sennazarius on Pope Leo X.]

In English.

And if thou aske, why Leo could not take the sacred ryte
In his last houre? the reason was, that he had solde thē quite.

Of another Pope.

Vrbanus the fifth, sendeth to the Emperor of the Gretians, three Agnus Dei: with the verses that folowe.

Balme, waxe & water of the Chrisme an Agnus Dei make
Which worthy Iem of my free gift, to thee I do betake.
For as it is of water made, and sanctified by speach,
So in effecte, as Christes bloude, the vertues thereof reache,
Eche lightning to suppresse, and driue away eche sinne,
It helps the childwife, & doth yeeld hir child succes therin:
It giueth to the worthy man rewarde, and quencheth fire,
It saues the wight that bears the same, frō waters rage & ire.
[_]

On the backe side of whiche Latine verses, (whiche were lost from an Archpapist) I finde these conclusions written: viz.

From lightning and thunder,
From fire and water,
A woman in trauell,
From all euill spirits.

And also these two verses are written vppon the backe side thereof, whiche I thinke not incident to that matter, for that heretofore I haue hearde them properly alluded in an other sense. The verses are these, and concerne Mariages I suppose.

Prima dies grata est, secunda & aduena grata,
Tertia grata parum, quatridiana setat.
They may be thus Englished:
The firste day is honourable, the second commendable,
The thirde tollerable, the fourth abhominable.


[Good Reader here I haue with long discourse]

Good Reader here I haue with long discourse
Laide forth these Popes euen somewhat plaine to thee,
Thereby the better to direct thy course
In playnest wise their packing parts to see,
Digest it wel, and wey the thing aright,
And then (no doubt) thou wilt detest them quite.
Their trinkets here I bring vnto thy showe
As if it were into a Market place,
Peruse them wel, and viewe them all arowe,
And fansie those, wherein thou findest grace,
And fancied once, doe take them for thy hyre,
Accept my paine, I do no more requyre.

The Popes common Seale to al Bulles.

To which purpose.

Christe with his bloude hath bought vs, not with golde:
The Pope for gaine both Christe and vs dothe sell.
My life (saith Christ) to saue your liues was solde:
My trashe (saith Pope) will keepe you all from Hell.
Lament your sinnes (saith Christe) and followe me:
My pardons (saith the Pope) must set you free.
My Kingdome is not of this worlde (saith Christe)
Let him that woulde be chiefe be made your thrall.
Upon the earth (saith Pope) I am the highest,
The fullnesse of my power includeth all.
Nowe if the Pope and Christe do thus agree,
Howe can the Pope (on earth) Christs Uicar bee?
Legatus and Apostolus are one,
In sense, (I meane) they differ but in tongue.
Christ had but twelue apparantly is known:
The Pope (forsooth) hath such a shameful throng,
As euery King he can salute with one,
And yet he wanteth not a beaste at home.
And of the twelue that Christe had here on earth
One (traitorlike) was euer gladde of golde,
And he beganne: and since Christs pretious deathe
(Euen Iudas-like) these Prelates aye haue solde

The merites of his agony and smarte,
And say oure health consisteth in their arte.
Well, Christs Apostles were poore Fishermen,
And taught the worlde the sacred worde of life,
And for their paines were whipped nowe and then,
Some stoande to death, and some were kilde with knife:
His Saincts were slaine, for that they blamed sinne,
They preached Truth, and spent their liues therein.
The Popes are Lordes and mates with euery King:
They come from him that neuer felte no want:
They take good golde for al the trash they bring:
They must haue store, they care not who haue skant:
His Saintes are such, as seeke their Princes spoile,
Their countries sacke, and conquest of the soyle.

Shewe one such I pray you

The Diu'lish Monke that poysoned King Iohn,
Doth prooue (alas) this Tragedie too true:
The Mayde of Kente, may well come forth for one,
That sought to change our Hony into Rue:
But as they sought, so God that is most iust,
Did yeeld them meede, and will do still I trust.

And howe?

The Monke.
The heartes of Kings are in the hande of God,
Their rule and powre are lent them by the Lorde:
The Tyrant stout is but his scourge and rod:
The godlie Prince also he doth avorde
Where he doth please: and straightly hath appointed,
No violent hande to touch the Lordes annointed.

This Monke forsooth that Symon Swynsted hight,
A Swine in deed, and quite deuoyde of grace,
When that King Iohn had broughte this Realme in plight
From Rebelles rage, to somewhat better cace:
In doubt the King (who in that Abbey lay)
Should touch their state, deuisde this wicked way:
I wil (quoth he) vnplace this cruell King,

A desperate Monke.


And ridde hys life, thoughe I do die therefore:
For why (sayth he) it is a worthy thing
For one to die, to saue a number more:
I can but die, and die I will herein,

A stinking Martyre.


And kill my selfe, a Martyrs name to win.
Then goth he to the greasie Abbot straight,

Talis pater qualis filius.


And breakes to him the treason in his thought,
Who weepes for ioy, and nowe concludes the baight,
Whereby (alas) this Regicide is wrought.
The Monke will die to kill his liege and King,
The Abbot eke absolues him of the thing.
And thus (absolvde) the Monke and Abbot parte:
Forthwith the Monke doth to a garden go,
And there beginnes experience of his arte:
He takes a Tode, and beats and prickes it so,
As that same Tode, through rigor of the paine,
Casts vp his gorge, wherewith the King is slaine.
The same he puts into a cuppe of wine,
And to the King he commes with smiling cheare,
My Liege (saith he) here is a draft so fine,

The falsest hart shews fairest face.


As like to it, thou neuer drankest yeare:
I will beginne, accept it at my hande:
This washaile shall be ioyous to thy lande.
The Monke therewith did drinke a hartie draught,
And humbly gaue the rest vnto the King,

Who dranke the same, whereby his death he caught:
A wicked deede and lamentable thing,
A miser Monke with smooth and smiling showe
To kil a King, the Lords annointed so.
This deadly drinke on either side thus tane,
The Monke vnto the Farmorie doth go,
His guts do swell, his belly breakes in twaine,
A death too good for him that liued so,
To slaye hymselfe, thereby to kill his King,
A traytrous deede, and detestable thing.
The King also a three dayes after that
Gaue vp his life, to liue with God aboue.
The Abbot and the Monkes whiche ioyed thereat
Concluded then, that for the constant loue
The murdrer bare to them in doing this,
Their Popishe aide should bring his soule to blisse,
And graunted by decree, in Chapter Courte
Three other Monkes continually to sing
For his sweete soule, that did preuent the hurte
Of them and theirs, by poysoning the King:
So as by massing meane the Diuell must misse
The earthly Diuel, whiche durste accomplishe this.
Lo, double murder is absolued here:
A Thiefe doth kill himselfe his King to slay:
The holy Monkes herewith not only beare,
But make a meane to take this sinne away.
Thoughe God doth saye full plaine: Thou shalt not kill:
The Pope doth say againe: He did not ill.
If God and Pope herein not disagree,
Then ayre and earth are both in nature iuste.
But from suche Popes the faithfull flocke are free,
Which in the death of Christ alonely truste.
Triumph oh God, beate backe thy foes againe,
And graunte our Queene long dayes and good to raigne.

Amen.

And now to the merrie miracles of the holy Mayde of Kent.

By protestation first I warne thee note,
Some Papist Priest bewitched in the Pope,
By cunning help did make this craftie coate
To hide the troth, and had or was in hope,
To haue therfore the custodie and gayne
Of some lewde Sainct, to counteruayle his payne.
And gayne thou knowst will make the carelesse man
To stretch a string, and countermand a truth,
And Papistes do, and haue done what they can
By Masking meanes, to bring this Realme to ruth.
What lets them then to make or sell a lye,
So they themselues haue secret gayne thereby?
But yet I thinke he was a merrie man,
For euery wonder breedes a prettie iest,
Of which my selfe so playnely as I can
Will shew thee part, gesse thou but at the rest:
For tempted sore the Mayden saith she was,
And Women weake must sometime yeelde alas.

The first Miracle. Candels vvere lighted vvithout fire.

Sainst Giles Chappel.

The Candle ment is euen hir tender hart
Which Edward Bocking set on flaming fire,
For he must play the ghostly fathers part,
And shrift was such, as they did both desire.
The place was apt, they toke their times by night.
I thinke I haue resolvde this riddle right.

The seconde Miracle. Womens brestes vvere moystned, vvhich before were drie and wanted milke.

The Lady which at VValsingham did stande,
Had grace also to worke the like effect:

The Ladie of VValsingham and the holye Mayde had vertue alike.


For in hir time a thousand in this lande.
Did seeke to hir that sicknesse to correct,
And seeking founde, and had their ful desier:
By Pylgrisme, Priest, by Monke, or else by Frier.

The thirde Miracle. The sicke vvere restored to perfect helth.

It followeth still to ratifie the same,
The breast hath milke, which else had stil bene drie,
Such women then had greatly bin to blame
If they praisde not their Pilgrimage pardie,
The cause wherof was not to gather welth,
But for to haue, which there they had, their health.

The fourth Miracle. The dead vvas restored to life.

The pensiue soule, which was ful sad at home,
And dead through care, by meanes of watching eye:
Did by this cloke abrode, as Pilgrysme rome,
And found the mate, which in the hart did lye.
And thus, the harte which was starke deade before,
To life againe this Mayden did restore.

The fifth and last Miracle. Finally, al good vvas done to those vvhich were measured and vowed to hir in Courte of Streete.

The vowe and measure made to hir you see,
Did neuer fayle to finde a perfect meede,
For mayde, or wife, or widdowe that it bee,
That cōmes to hir, are certaine for to speede:
The well of life so mightily did spring,
As they were spedde in euery kinde of thing.
If she were wife, hir husband was not sad,
That barren bedde had brought him forth a childe:
The wanton wife could laugh with hart as glad,
To see the man so willingly beguilde:
The Widowe and the Mayde cannot misteeke,
Since they do finde the very thing they seeke.
And where before they serued but for droyle,
Hereby they finde a much more better lucke,
They lay aside their labour and their toyle,
And sit ful soft to giue an infant sucke:
A thousand ways yong women may do wursse,
Than change their toyle, to be a Merchaunts nursse.

And thus, all good you see was fully done,
To those were vowde and measured to hir,
The riddle is resolude, thou needst not runne
A further course, nor once thy compasse stir,
An Oracle to finde of more effect,
For truth is troth, and voyde of all suspect.
Finis.

Inuectiues against the Pope.

[Pasquillus' invective against the Pope.]

Which may be thus Englished:

Oh Rome farewell, the sights I see suffize: Ile backe again.
But, whē I wil be baud, or whore, or scolde, thine am I then.

[Mantuan's invective against the Pope.]

In English thus:

If Rome yeeld aught, they are but toyes, she taketh glistring golde
For words: alas, Rome nowe by coyne, hir royall raigne doth hold.

Conclusio.

We see the bird ful braue abroad, and free from euery ill,
Is brought to baine through Fowlers fraude vnsweete recording quill:
The hony harlots sugred speach so snares the minde of man,
As wisest wits, in wantons webbe, is tangled nowe and than.
But beaten fishe can safely swimme, and by a piercing looke
Foresee the fraud of fishers arte, and stunne both bayte & hooke.
So he that stirs his beaten barke, by compasse, carde, and skill,
At laste obtaines his wished porte, & holds himself harmlesse stil.
No fish nor foule by craft nor skill, nor youth by female fraudes
Haue bin deceivde, as al the world hath bin by Romish gaudes.
An apple or an egge, may call a child to Butchers boule,
The Pope by baggage, beads, and buls, hath bittē many a soule,
His blyssyngs eise haue made vs blyth, who hath not feard his curse,
His buzzing bees haue bleard our eies, whiles falshod fild their purse.
What Diuel bewitched worldly wits, yt none estate could scape,
But gaue their goodes (as if it nere) for mowing of an Ape.
Nay worse, for happy had we bin, if none but coine were lost:
We left our God and folowed Baal, & bought ye Diuel with cost.
Shake off therefore this costly course, and be men nowe beware,
Of fisher, fouler, foxe or Diuell, the Pope hath craftiest snare.
Foresee therefore in time, his Charibdes and his Scill.
The compasse of the worde of God auoydes the daungers still:
And brings thy beaten barke, from storms to port in perfite rest,
Where through the bloud of Iesus Christ, his saincts for aye are blest.
To which, when yt our noble N. hath livde the age of Noe
And beaten & quite conquered Baal: God sēd hir soule with ioy.
And graunt eche subiect still to see, that vnder Christ in earth,
For England is no supreame head, but Queene Elizabeth.
Send loyaltie and loue in al, confound hir foes, and then
Shall Babilon be ouerthrowen: whiche graunt oh God. Amen.
B. G.
Finis.

Alia Conclusio.

The wādring wight that succour seekes in dāgers deep distresse,
As Hecuba when greedy Greekes did ransackt Troy possesse,
Is fayne to try such foraigne friends, as league of former loue
Yeeldes cause to trust, but fortune lends, to glad, & spoiles to proue,
For in the end yong Polidore, King Priams sonne was slayne
By fathers friende, wo worth therefore the loue that lokes for gayne.
Then England seeke thy Prince t'obey, and aske no foraigne ayde,
Shake off in time the shauelings sway, whome truth hath nowe bewrayd,
The Qu. by nature, law, & right, vpholds hir royal crowne,
Whose grace & mercy mixt with might, hath won so large renowne
That Subiects true do deeme them sure, that foes are forst to quake,
Change Bulles for blysse, from doctrine pure, run not to Lerna lake.
quoth B. G.
Finis.
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