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Deus stetit in Synagoga deorum.
His lordship would plaie the Iustice of Corum
In the place of iudgement, it did hym good,
To accuse the martyres, and shed their blood.

O Clemens.

There is no man within the citie,
Professyng Christes Gospell, that he would pitie
Muche mischief this verlet, did begin
Therefore his praier is tourned to synne.

O Pia.

He had a cancred proude looke,
With bell and candell, and Popishe booke:
In cursyng Gods people with hellishe grace,
Awaie graundpanche, with thy greasie face.

O Crux.

Now a peece of your Dirige I will begin,
I care not whether, I lose or winne:
You were no greate state of honor,
A bastarde, no bishop, but bloudie Boner.