A Commemoration or Dirige of Bastarde Edmonde Boner, alias Sauage, usurped Bisshoppe of London Compiled by Lemeke Avale |
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 | A Commemoration or Dirige of Bastarde Edmonde Boner, alias Sauage, usurped Bisshoppe of London |  |
Boner speaketh.
My soule haue cleaued fast to the grounde,
I haue fed like a swine, and liued like a hoūde
My thought it did me muche good,
In broilyng the christians, and shedyng blood
I haue fed like a swine, and liued like a hoūde
My thought it did me muche good,
In broilyng the christians, and shedyng blood
I haue shewed my waies, I haue shewed my waies
How well I loued the Romishe kaies
The reliques of Rome were my delight,
I was a maiden priest, and our ladies knight.
How well I loued the Romishe kaies
The reliques of Rome were my delight,
I was a maiden priest, and our ladies knight.
Iustification I could not abide,
Specially if it came on Christes side:
I will clime heauen walles with Scala cœli,
And followe Alkoc, quondam bishop of Elie.
Specially if it came on Christes side:
I will clime heauen walles with Scala cœli,
And followe Alkoc, quondam bishop of Elie.
My soule now slepe in dreames and greues
My corps is buried emong false theues:
For my bodie and soule, th' apointed place,
Abusyng mercie, and refusyng grace.
My corps is buried emong false theues:
For my bodie and soule, th' apointed place,
Abusyng mercie, and refusyng grace.
The waie of wickednes, I loued well,
In missyng of Purgatorie, perhaps to hell:
I beshrowe Dorbell, and Dunses harte,
Would I had been no bishop, but gon to carte.
In missyng of Purgatorie, perhaps to hell:
I beshrowe Dorbell, and Dunses harte,
Would I had been no bishop, but gon to carte.
The waie of truthe, I did once take,
Whiche of malice, I did forsake:
And neuer since I did repente,
In despisyng the eternall testamente.
Whiche of malice, I did forsake:
And neuer since I did repente,
In despisyng the eternall testamente.
I did sticke ones vnto Goddes lawes,
But to forsake it, I had no cause:
And hardned my harte, & stopped mine eares
And could not wepe repentant teares.
But to forsake it, I had no cause:
And hardned my harte, & stopped mine eares
The waie of thy cōmaundmēt I might not bide
After that I was drunke with ye cup of pride,
But waxed lothly, foule, and fatte,
Like to cardinall Wolsey, with his red hatte.
After that I was drunke with ye cup of pride,
But waxed lothly, foule, and fatte,
Like to cardinall Wolsey, with his red hatte.
Boner ende.
| A Commemoration or Dirige of Bastarde Edmonde Boner, alias Sauage, usurped Bisshoppe of London | |