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All faytfull brether that on the Lord dependis,
Mark weill this schedule that I have send you heir,
Pestiferus prelatis that Papistrie pretendis,
Sic dewils but dout sall in or dayis appeir;
Yit God forwairns you, be the weidis they weir,
To ken the lupus in a lamb skyn lappit,
Makand thair gode of warldlie gudis and geir,
The flock new foundit, and they in furringis happit.

347

Veneriall pastoris, in vomiting thair fayt,
Lyk to ane tyke returnīg to it agane,
Filling thair purses with the spirituall grathe,
Plucking the pellotis or ever the scheip be slane,
Goddis true preceptis and preiching to prophane,
Layand thair cuires in warldlie busines:
Thir are the propheitis, I speik it to you plane,
Coverit with coule of clockit holines.
Lyk to the scrybes, closing the yeattis of heawin,
Sayand the Pope sic power to thame gave;
Hyding the keyis was trulie to thē gewin,
Thinking yt Christians shall na entres have.
A scabbit scheip wald fane infect the lave,
Causing seditione into the kirk to ryse.
Heirfoir, bewar what sermond ye resave:
In rottin bosses no balme liquor lyes.
To Bischop Balaam, brecking the law of God,
They may succeid weill as his sone and air;
Or Corah, Dathan, reving Aarons rod,
With thair vsurped preisthood playit no mair.
To Amasias I may thē weill cōpair,
Sleayand the faytfull flock wtout offences;
Tane and incarcerat, kepit heir and there,
Beggit and banist, bearing the wraith of princes.

348

In Maccabeis wha ever lykis to luike,
By Alchimas and Jason they may leir,
Mensuorne byschops that Moses law forsuike,
Renūcing God for warldlie gudis and geir,
With Kingis vnchristned cūand to the weir,
Contrair thair cōsciēce and their kyndlie freindis.
What dois our bischops now, may I not speir?
Servandis to Sathan for his takkis and teindis.
I may cōpair thē to a painted fyre,
But heit to warm you in the winteris cauld;
Or to a visorne cled with trym attyre,
Covering a skyn vncomlie to behald.
The plesant plane-trie will the leavs vnfauld
With fairest schaddow to save the sone in sȳmer—
Be thir lait bischops may this teall be tauld—
Beirand no fruite bot barren blockis of tymber.
Vntruethfull teachers, in thir tymes bypast,
Some hes bene sene from yeir to yeir;
Bot in this latter aige they flock so fast,
That I beleive in deid the day be neir.
Judas Iscariot, for a gleib of geir,
Betrayed his Maister lyk a traytor tod.
Annas and Caiphas, gif they both war heir,
Culd doe no mair to slea the sanctis of God.

349

Blind Baals bischops, provocking God to yire,
Your sinfull leaving hes the scheip oversyled;
Compared to swyne returnīg to the myre,
In thair awin filthes to get thair fames defyled.
Albeit they be now Tulchin bischops stylit,
Having proude kingis and coūsallis to decoir thē,
Auld God is God, and will not be begylit,
When Plutois palice beis provydit for them.
May Scotland beir sic bischops for the gallous,
St Androis, Glasgou, for yt gait anes grantit;
What have ye lost? forloppen, leying fellowes,
Fraudulent fellowes, that tuyse there fayt recāted.
The spreit of God was anes into thē planted,
Preiching his doctrine, as indeid they did,
But, fra they gat the drapping grise they wanted,
Thair clocked knaverie culd no moir be hid.
Vngratious guydis, yt God hes never anoynted
Lyk to our faytfull pastoris past befoir,
But be the devile, I dout not, heir appoyntit,
Godis holie scriptor for to cloik and smoir.
For no rewarde they work but warldlie gloir,
Plaing ‘placebo’ into princes faces;
With leys and letters doing thair devoir,
Pynand true preichoris for to possess there places.

350

Voratious woulfis, I wish you to rewolk,
Ere in the den of darkness ye most lye;
Of Godis true mercies, lyk to mercat focke,
Selling for lucre, quha so lykis to by;
Libidinous drūckardis they dowe not to denye;
May no mā had thē be thair yeis and nayis.
Thir are the propheitis, planelie ye may espye,
The Lord called lyers in the latter dayis.
Thair maister, Pluto, hes there spreitis possest,
Who with his Lord in lyk cōtritione fell;
Thinkand his wit and beautie by the rest,
Against the word of God he wald rebell.
Through his presūptous pryde he past to hell,
Leaving the heavinlie harbrie whair he satt.
Gif they repent not sone, assure they sall
Receave sic mercie as thair maister gat.
This Adamsone may weill be borne of Eve,
Takand hir vices of his wicked mother;
Likkest to father Adam, I beleive,
Surpassing Cain cursed, or ony vther:
For he slew nothing bot his onlie brother;
And this hes drowned hole dioceis, ye sie.
Wanting the grace, when he shuld guyde the ruther,
He lattis his scheip tak in at luife and lie.

351

Reforme thair faythis gif they be found astray,
From thair vocatione cleane degenerat;
Preis not to enter be the wrangous way,
As bastard brethrene, being reprobat;
With hart cōtreit, and handis elevat,
Seik thair salvatione of the samyn sort;
They will not find the father obstinat,
When synners knocke, in casting vp the port.
Heirfore, deir Brethrene, I wish you to bewar:
Sen ye are wairned, I wald not ye were blekkit;
To thair deceatfull doctrine come not nar,
Singand lyk syrens to deceave the elected;
Both art and part of Papistrie suspectit,
As ye may see be thair workis inventit.
To Edinburgh baillies my buike salbe directed,
Desyrand lycence to gett live to prent it.
Ground you on God, the rocke and corner stane,
As Paull dois speik to the Corrinthians.
Swa live thir lyars and thair lawis allane,
Packand thair penche lyk Epicurians;
Contrair to Christ lyk Antichristians;
The plane polluters of his holie tēple;
Lyk to Scrybes and fals Pharisians;
Bellie god bischops: Quoth your brother Semple.