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 debate betwyn A Replication vnto Camels Obiection. |
 | The Contention bettwyxte Churchyeard and Camell |  |
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.
| The Contention bettwyxte Churchyeard and Camell | |