University of Virginia Library

What meanes the ragynge mindes,
of cruell carelesse sorte?
To raunge with rage whose chollor hot
they deeme a sweete disporte.
Or why do Papistes mutter so,
in euery corner now?
Such tidinges straunge, as scarsly they
in triall dare auow.
Their tongues to tell forth lies,
they dayly do imploy:
To sclaunder truth, and godly men,
they take exceeding ioy.
As rechlesse forth they raunge,
regarding nought at all:
Some liue in hope againe to see
the worship of God Baall.
And still they boast therof,
as peruerse Papistes will:
They spit their poison where they please,
as Hydras whelps full ill.
And here they prie, and there they spie,
their equals forth to finde:
And oft in Paules they parley forth
their spiteful cankered minde.
Yea, still they talke of newes,
and then their mindes they say:
But partinge then, adew saithe one,
vnto the Golden day.
When wee shall haue our wils,
and purpose come to passe:
And eke enioy as wee doo wish,
our longe desired Masse.
And then shall goe to wracke,
the broode that Luther bred:
Olde custome shall supplie the Churche,
whiche errour now hath fed.
Thus prate they as they liste,
in secrete muttringe sorte:
Not basshing suche pernitious talke,
to parley and reporte.
Some wish the Basan Bull,
might haue the rulinge sway:
Who (as they boast) shall them restoare
vnto there Golden day.
Some wish the waueringe Moone,
might quite Eclips the Sunne:
And thus before their wittes wee see,
some Papistes tounges doo runne.
Some wish ye Redcōbde bird might crow,
and beare away the game:
But yet his combe may hap be cut,
for practisinge the same.
And longe this sauage crewe,
of Bonner made account:
To Throne of Londons rule againe,
in Golden day should mount.
Who then would make our Protestants,
the Cuckoes songe to singe:
Or els with faggottes firie flames,
to ruine them to bringe.
But God berefte their hope,
which vainely fed their minde;
And vnto his elected Churche,
a pleadge of loue assinde.
For when they bragged most,
to haue there Golden day:
Then God by death did ouerthrowe,
the piller of their staye.
And then they hunge their heades,
as men that wanted braynes:
And sobbingly did shewe by sighes,
their straunge tormentinge paynes.
Some thē were drownd in deepe dispaire,
that longe in hope did liue:
Yea, some did showe with streames,
what griefe his death did giue.
Thus were the Papistes drencht
in fluddes of flowinge woe:
As plainely men might see and vew,
by their externall shoe.
And some of Duns his kynde,
fyne Doctors worth a Strawe:
Which aye haue sought for to repulse
the sōme of Christes lawe.
By Necromancie, they haue sought
as people vicious vaine:
To knowe the tyme, the terme and state,
of noble Princes raygne.
But God hath by his prouidence,
and mercie kept in store,
Deposde their trust: which vnto them
becōmes a Corsey sore.
And so doth bight their hartes,
with battring shot of care:
That outwarde gesture oft doth showe
their strange tormentynge fare.
But they that do consult,
and parley with the Deuyll,
As many shamelesse Papists now
as pregnant vnto euyll
Do show the same at large,
what Doctrine that they vse:
Euen shameles Sathan their owne God
their Sences doth abuse.
But thoughe their hoape be gone,
which lurkt and lyngered longe:
And they haue wept in wayling woe
to see our God so strong,
To breake and burst in twaine
their purposes so ill:
And by his power to subuart
their hope and wisshed will.
Dispayre possest their mindes,
till now of late they see:
The Bull, the Moone with other moe,
their ayders for to bee.
Which doth their hope augment,
and much their trust increase:
Such is the trust of Papists prowde,
fearce enemies to peace.
But God hath raisd a blasing STAR
to combat with the Moone:
Who will bereiue hir of hir light,
or conflict fearce be done.
To tame the Bull, I hope
a Beare will sure be founde:
Whose might ere long may cause the Bull,
vnto the Stake be bound.
To match the red combde Birde,
a noble Swan is prest:
Whose valiaunt force of armes in fight,
is equall to the rest.
Of noble Peeres whose troth,
vnto our Prince is knowne:
who landes nor liues do nothing recke,
to set vpon hir sone,
As euery subiect will,
that God and truth doth loue:
Indeuer to the vttermost,
these Rebels rage to moue.
And seeke in Princes cause,
and quarell to contende:
As farre as life and worldly pelfe,
will serue for to extende.
Although the waueringe Moone,
and other of his crewe:
As doth the Bull and so the rest,
rebelliously renewe.
To bringe againe to Throne
the Bore that fometh so:
Whiche feares by force of sincere truth,
his Kingdome to forgo.
And therefore hath begonne to worke,
accordinge to his skill:
With greedy tuskes to pray vpon,
all suche as hate his will.
What hauocke hath he made?
how toyles he euermore?
For to deface the bloud of Christe,
and suche as him adore:
His pompous pride, his Pagans hart,
corrupt and moste vniust:
Delights with Martirs bloud to quentch,
his hote and Woluishe thurst.
Not Phallaris the fearce,
the Bulles of Brasse did frame:
To vexe the Saincts that did delight,
to praise Christs holy name.
In tiranny doth more exceede,
then doth this Tiger wood:
Whose exercise is wholly bent,
to spill the faithfuls bloud.
As Nero sought to butcher those,
that Idolles did disdaine:
So doth this Borish Brock with sworde,
his maingie Masse maintaine.
As Traiean did extort we read,
when he did Septer hold
In Rome, as lawfull Emperour,
the sheepe of Christes fold.
So doth this Romish Wolfe,
not spare to take his praie:
And where he may, no Sheep nor Lambe,
his teeth can scape awaie.
As hath ben heard and seene,
in Fraunce and Flaunders late:
Where cruell Pharo furiously,
doth maintaine his estate.
And so tormentes the Fold,
and flocke of Christe in deede:
That for to heare the faithfull hartes,
may cause with woe to bleede.
In Fraunce by Ciuill warre,
the Pope hath plaide his parte:
His toyle is seene, Gods open truth
by force for to subuart.
What slaughter hath ben there,
to vs hath not ben hid:
Ne yet to them that thousandes haue,
from out this life ben rid.
Their countrie sore decaid,
their wealth decreased still:
And shall be sure if case the Pope,
may haue his wisshed wil.
For as he hates the truth,
and sækes to hide the same:
So doth he sæke to butcher those,
that loue and feare Gods name.
And where as Gods most sincere woorde,
doth seeke to take a roote:
This viper doth attempt by force,
to treade it vnder foote.
But Heauen and Earth, saith Christe,
shall perish and decaie:
When his eternall veritie,
vnspotted still shall staie.
And though Saule hauock make of his,
and touch them to the quicke:
Let Saule take heede, for hard it is
to spurne against the pricke.
For though his Curres a time,
do persecute and spoyle:
At last Gods truth maugre there might,
shall giue his foes the foyle.
In spite of all his crew,
that purpose his aduaunce:
Gods truth through knowledge at the last
shall rule and raigne in Fraunce.
He shall confound that carelesse traine,
those Iabins fearce and fell,
Which spoile his Church, & kil his Saincts
that loue his deere Gospell.
In steede of warre and bloudy fight,
he shall establish peace:
And plant his worde, euen there as here,
when Papistrie shall cease.
In Flaunders to discourse,
the Tirannie which is there:
Not only strikes the hart with griefe,
but noyes the Christian eare.
As well by fight as other wise,
the Popish trayne do toyle:
To wast and harme the godly ones,
their goods to pray by spoyle.
Yonge men, and Uirgines pure,
which God and truth do loue:
O violent rigour from this life,
by dent of death doth moue.
The Husband from his Wife,
by violence is refte:
And oftentimes the wife euen then,
all Husbandles is lefte.
And all to keepe the Pope in Throne,
God knowes a heauy thinge:
When Darnell shalbe caused thus,
by Princes power to springe.

As late a Pageant straunge,
by force inured there:
Upon a woorthie man of God,
seruant of Christe so deare.
Iohn Camberlaine he hight,
in Armes a woorthy man:
Whose hawtie courage, all the traine
of Papists witnes can.
So zealous in his Maisters cause,
his doctrine to maintaine:
As prest for to resist the crewe,
of Popish doctours vaine.
So valliant in the field,
to cheare his Souldiars all:
That Camberlaine they waile with teares,
and oft this Captaine call.
Who to the Papists was a pricke,
and cause of gripinge griefe:
Unto the Protestants in neede,
a comfort and reliefe.
Against this godly wight,
in Armes renowmed so:
His enimies conspierd still,
to giue him cause of woe.
And God permitting them,
this Captaine true to take;
A sacrifice vnto him selfe,
this Camberlaine did make.
In pryson they him cast,
sore clogd with yron bands:
Which as reward, the faithfull reape,
at these proude Papists hands.
No triumphe small was made,
that Camberlaine was caught:
The Popes own pigges right ioyful were
the faithfull tooke great thought.
And Camberlaine in fetters clogd,
to God did call for aide:
To strengthen him with pacience,
for constancy he praide.
That as he had begonne to taste,
the fulnes of his grace:
So in his truth he would confirme,
his fraile and mortall race.
Corroborat Lord this carkas now,
which is but dust and slime:
All torments straunge for to indure,
for testimonie thine.
I know as thou my Christe,
of worldlings wert contemd:
And vnder Pilate or the Iewes,
to cruell death condemd.
So shall thy seruant liynge here,
with fetters sore opprest:
Amonge the broode of currish Caines,
with death be due distrest.
I read that thy Electes,
by Tirantes haue ben slaine:
I reade that Herode for thy sake,
put Infants yonge to paine,
And afterward the Tetriarcke,
which Herode also hight:
For Herodias sake, Iohn Baptist head,
in pryson of did smight.
I read that Peter and S. Paule,
by Nero lost their liues:
And so these Curres of Neroes broode,
thy Saincts from breath depriues.
And shall thy seruaunt then,
now subiect to thy crosse:
Dispaire one whit to follow thee?
or thinke his life a losse?
No, no my God, for sith the world
haue thee no fauour showne:
Now should they loue, or fauour those
which aye remaine thine owne.
Oh should thy seruaunt thee exceede,
sith thou was well content:
With thy hart bloud vpon the Crosse,
to seale thy Testament.
Sith they haue persecuted thee,
thy Saincts, and Prophetes pure:
How should they spare, to vexe thy Flock,
which in thy truth indure?
These Popish Traieans brood,
the bluddringe Balams blinde:
To vexe thee in thy members still,
occasion do finde.
But Lord whē thou shalt thinke it meete,
rise vp, redresse the wronge:
That thy elected Churche and Saincts,
haue now indured longe.
With draw their neckes frō Pharos yoke
thy heauy crosse remoue:
Not as I will, but as thou wilt,
O rulinge Ioue aboue:
And fortefie this brittell Flesh,
so weake and fraile my Christ:
That to the death, with losse of bloud
thy foes I may resist.
This carkas is the praie,
that Papistes thinke to spoile:
To reaue from it my breathed life,
with hote desire they toyle.
But so confirme my faith,
when perilles present be:
That feare of death constraine me not,
to swarue or straie from thee.
The Chaos of this fleash,
is mould and slippery dust:
Then whereunto, or vnto whom,
should I thy seruant trust.
But only vnto thee my God,
whose mercy doth abound:
Which to relieue thy Saincts opprest,
by grace meane hast founde.
To thee I still appeale,
to thee I call and crie:
My faith perswades me I am thine,
although my fleash shall dye.
And with thy preaching Paule,
who resteth in thy handes:
I couet Lorde dissolu'd to be,
from these terrestriall bandes.
But when it shall thee please,
thy Sion hill restore:
Reedefie Ierusalem,
deface the Popish Lore.
The Turrets of prowde Babilon
in mercie ouerthrowe:
That all the worlde a mighty God,
thy Maiestie may knowe.
This said, the Tormentours in hast,
from pryson him conuay:
To Brussels in the market steede,
where they their Pagents play.
So straunge to heare and know,
as any hart would bleede:
To thinke that woorthy Camberlaine,
should so be vexte in deede.
Whose paines so passinge were,
so perillous and great:
That any Pagan would abhorre,
to worke so vilde a feate.
For passinge by the Bishops gate,
a gate so named there:
With knife in hande, a slaughter man
to Camber. did appeare.
And vnto him approched fast,
and cut of both his eares:
Which facte of those that feare the Lord,
requiers bloudy teares.
But yet as vncontent,
they prosecute their ill:
They spoile him of his robes and then,
they whip and scourge him still.
Unto the firie flames, where he
shall fine his vitall life:
Where they his torments to enlarge,
do showe them selues full rife,
And then with yron Tonges,
in fire burninge hot:
They pinch, and pul his flesh from boanes
all mercy is forgot.
But he opprest with payne,
to God doth call and crie:
To place his soule amonge his Sainctes,
aboue the Starrie skie.
But when his flesh from boanes,
is pluckt in many a place:
About the market steede with whippes,
they Camberlaine do chase.
So that no parte of him is free,
from bloudy streames so redde:
And then to firie flames againe,
this Godly man is ledde.
Where as they did before,
they double more his payne:
From boanes to plucke his tender flesh,
the Tormenters are fayne.
But still he crieth to God,
to ayde him in that case:
And at the laste to graunt to him,
in Heauen a resting place.
The Tormentors againe,
to take their whippes prepare:
About the market him to scourge,
they prest and ready are.
This donne, vnto a stake they binde
and tie this Godly wight:
And on the top, a burninge tubbe,
of pitch the Papists pight.
So that the droppes did light a pace,
vpon his tender skinne:
This kinde of paine did Camberlaine,
for Christes Gospell winne.
Who then amidst his panges of payne,
did neuer more oblight:
To mightie God for to commend,
his ghost and troubled spright.
And oft he wisht that Antichrist,
might haue an vtter fall:
And that the truth might publisht be,
to ouerthrow of Baall.
But still these Uipers fell, alas,
haue sought his tormentes still,
And iiii. foote distant from the stake,
to show their cursed will.
A fire huge they frame,
to compasse Camber. bound:
Whose ardent heate about the stake,
constraines him to runne round.
Till God from Heauē cast downe his eies
his tormentes to asswage:
Who now no doubt doth rest in ioye,
most free from Papists rage.
Iudge ye that haue Gods feare,
iudge ye these Papists spight:
And magnifie the God of Gods,
for Camberlaine that wight.
Whose praise in spite of death,
shall liue and last for aye:
Maugre all those that wish and looke,
for such a Golden daye.
That they may burne and whip,
as Papists learne by skill:
All those that seeme for to prefer,
Gods Testament and will.

Also the late attempted fact,
in Skottish zoyle and land:
Which cruell clownishe caitife late,
to practise tooke in hand.
Doth plaine discourse to me,
what fruites in Traitours raine:
As well recordes the Noble bloud,
Lorde Ieamie lately slaine.
With thundringe stroke of gunne,
and eger pearsinge shot:
A griefe to comly Courtiers sure,
and subiectes true God wot.
This Regents death is wepte,
with sobbes in many a place:
Who with the sound of iustice sought,
disorder to deface.
His truth and Noble skill,
in Armes was not vnknowne:
A pricke to those which vnto truth,
were heinous mortall fone.
But cursed be that Tiger fell,
that Gorgon fearce and wood:
Which greedely to quench his thirst,
did shed Lord Ieamies bloud.
Woe worth that Caitifes hand,
that made the simple morne:
Whose stroke of gun, with heaps of ioies
the Papists did adorne.
But so torments the mindes,
of those that faithfull bee:
That brinish streames doth show to them
a dismall daie they see.
But yet perhaps, this verlet vile,
which did commit this fact:
May Canonised be a Sainct,
by Pope for that his act.
For Cronicles discourse to me,
Alphonsus borne in Spaine:
Which did the Lore of Pope wee see,
by study longe maintaine.
Did so disdaine his brother deare,
Diazius by name:
Who then with Bucer sought to preach,
the woorde of life and fame.
That all in rage gainst reasons skill,
and natures skilfull Lore:
He sought for to conuert him still,
as busied euermore.
To hate the truth, but all in vaine
Diazius faithfull was:
And sought by truth him to allure,
from pelting Popish Masse.
And then Alphonsus fainde him self,
conuerted for to be:
And outward iesture made it play,
as all estates might see.
He sæmd with tounge to speake,
that harte disdained quight,
Againste the Poape he fained then,
with earnest truth to fight.
His brother was right glad in minde,
and Ioyfull in his harte,
That Alphonse did from Papistrie,
to sincere truth conuarte.
And oft embraste him in his armes,
and kist his tender face,
Eke he with teares repentaunt seemde,
though doublenesse had place.
And faining to departe from thence,
a letter did endight,
And hierd a Slaue to beare the same,
to Diazius poore wight
Who nothing slowe to execute,
his purpose and his will,
A hatchet brought vnder his cloake,
Diazius to kill.
And as he to peruse the same,
was diligent in deede:
The Hangman cleft into his hed,
while he the same did reade.
Then home to Rome Alphonsus fled,
pursuite was after made:
But yet the Popes most sacred Bull,
causde Iustice skill to fade.
And for this bloudy murther showne,
he Canonised was:
A Sainct, such zeale hath peeuish Pope,
to his most wicked Masse.
And so this Clowne which late we heare,
Lord Iames with gunne did kill:
The Pope may hap to make a Saincte,
so diuelishe is his will.
Iudge now the Iuglinge castes they vse,
iudge you the cruell trade:
Iudge you the cause of Ciuill strife,
the Pope this time hath made.
Whose crueltie is suche,
expressed euery where:
That vnto such as loue Gods truth,
right noysome is to heare.
Was Nero halfe so wood,
as are our Papists now:
The Turkes that heare this crueltie,
will not the same allow.
Not Phallaris so cruell was,
such tormentes to deuise:
As do our Bloudhoundes in defence,
of their late written lies.
Though Dioclesian cruell were,
to butcher Christes flocke:
Which vnto Iupiter his God,
for mercy would not knocke.
Not halfe so mercilesse was he,
as seeme our Papists aye:
For some would bite, which now do bark
to haue a Golden daye.
But whence doth springe the cause,
and ground of all this strife?
Euen from the filthy Seas of Rome,
in mischiefe very rife.
Whose wares began to smell,
as dunge and durtie drosse:
And therefore like a rauenous Wolfe,
the Sainctes of God doth tosse.
And now the time is come he sees,
that truth must runne his race:
He feares the wracke of Babilon,
and of his Papall place.
He feares his pelting pardons now,
no lenger will be sold:
And therefore striues with tooth & nayle
his trinckets to vphold.
He feares his slender God,
his Robin in his boxe:
He feares no man will be so mad,
to call to Stoanes and Stockes.
He dreades a sudden chaunge,
may happen soone to fall:
Which him and his, if truth runne foorth
may speedely appall.
And therefore sendeth forth,
with thundryng voyce his curse:
Wherewith he thinkes, to staie & cause
his foes to speede the worse.
And then he stirs vp freindes,
and Pardon dothe them send:
That in his cause, and quarell will
by force of Armes contend.
Thus seekes he to obscure the truth,
which God will haue to raigne:
Yea, to deuide al Kingdomes now,
imployed is his payne.
Where peace should ay remainynge be,
he Battayle doth procure:
Where loue should raigne, ye fruits of hate
he trauels to invre.
As hath in Fraunce and Flaunders sure,
continued very longe:
And now into our English pale,
he sæketh fast to thronge.
And many Northen Dawes,
aquaynt them with his Grace:
And seeme to burne their Bibels pure,
and Masse bookes plant in place.
Some seeme to disanull the thinge,
that God and Queene allowes:
And seeke to prosecute apace,
their Popishe peltinge vowes.
The broode of Balaams Priestes,
their Coapes did soone assay:
And some in London then had thought,
to haue their Golden day.
When they might knocke and kneele,
and crutch to Masse againe:
When they might praie, & sucke the bloud
of such as truth maintaine.
But then their hope supprest,
and dasht by Princesse might:
And both the Moone and Bull for feare,
had take them selues to flight.
And these pestiferous Priestes,
which Masse beganne to singe:
Were trussed vp, and sent to Heauen
as some say in a stringe.
The portly Beare, the shininge STAR,
this whurly burly ceast:
In Princesse cause, haue rebels rage
by Iustice skill dicreast.
And quiet made those stormes,
which then did seeme to floe:
And quēched quite, those glimering sparks
that then began to gloe.
Euen sodainely the wauering Moone,
so apte for euery chaunge:
As eke the Bull, whiche after him
most fickelly did raunge.
Had lost the day, that lingring hope
to gayne their mindes had fed:
Another Birde of carelesse kinde,
after their Pipes was led.
As well content, to treade the daunce
that they had so begonne:
As into further perill sure,
disordredly to runne.
And now with forraine power,
they mired do remaine:
Intendinge by their practise found,
to worke their Countries paine.
They nought regard the Princesse loue,
hir fauour they disdaine:
Also hir offred Pardon late,
the Bull, and Moone thought vaine.
And contrary vnto theyr Othes,
vnto their Princesse plight:
They tooke the field against hir grace,
and offred there to fight.
But then the STAR prepard in post,
their malice to withstand:
And at the last a prudent Beare,
would take the Bull in hande.
The Moone was quaild, the Bulles hart faild
they fled away for feare:
And left their Soldiars in the field,
dispersed here and theare.
Who hearyng these two Champions fled,
began to shifte for life:
But England hath iust cause to hate,
the Authours of this strife.
But then the Redcombd byrd in field,
in Princes cause was found:
With Speare & Shield by force of Armes
those Rebels to confound.
And none more prest, then he was there
for to pursue the chase:
Of those that sought, as periured wights
to disobay hir Grace.
But when these stormes were calmd,
and euery thyng at rest:
Euen then to ioyne with them, we heare
the carelesse Byrde thought best.
And beyng a faithfull feathered Byrde,
disceyte hath chokte his hart.
But God I pray for Christes sake,
their stony mindes conuart.
And ouerthrow the enterprice,
that they haue take in hand:
Which only tendes the Lawes of God,
and Princesse to withstand.
But if their mindes corrupt,
do Diuelish custome loue:
And that to place the Pope in Throne,
this discord now they moue.
Let them take heede, for God is iust,
and Maugre all their might:
As he hath donne, so will he now
for his Elected fight.
When Pharo did oppresse,
the Isralites wee reade:
He plagued him and all his Land,
with sundry Plagues in deede.
And Maugre Pharoes Hoast,
and fortitude so stronge:
He brought them thence, & drowned those
that would his people wronge.
And is he not? the same God now
like wonders for to show:
On those that neither will his might,
nor Gospell learne to know.
Thinke you his Arme doth weaken now:
or is his power lesse?
At this present, then then it was
his foes for to suppresse.
If not, why seeke ye then
his Honour to decay?
And that the Pope in England should,
againe beare rulinge sway.
Where are your English hartes become?
is truth and faith now fled?
Haue ye forgot the place, where ye
where borne and also bred?
Regard ye not your Nourse,
your Natiue zoyle and Land:
Whose Honour you are bound to seeke,
and all hir fees withstand.
Your God ye should obay,
his worde you ought to loue:
Your Crowne and Countrie to defend,
it would you all behoue.
First God to Honour ye are bound,
for giuinge breathed life:
For blessyng you with wealthes increase,
as you haue felt full rife.
And next your Queene whose clemencie,
ye haue both knowne and felt:
Which bountuously vnto you all,
hir gracious giftes hath delt.
As well for that hir Grace,
is heyre vnto the Crowne:
And child vnto the Eight Henrie,
a Prince of hie renowne.
As also that hir Maiestie,
all errours doth suppresse:
And trauels still, that Gods truth may
in England haue successe.
And to your Countrie ye be bound,
as Nature doth you will:
Because that she hath Nurst you vp,
ye ought to loue hir still.
In hir Defence ye ought with sword,
as well in Princesse cause:
In bloudy field to striue against,
all those that hate hir lawes.
But you forget all this,
no God, nor Prince ye feare:
Ne to your Countrie any loue,
your deedes do proue you beare.
But euen as Catterpillers sure,
ye seeke hir wealth to spoile:
But God is able by his power,
to giue you all the foile.
When that his people haue ben vext,
by Tirants raginge yre:
As now your Pope this rule to keepe,
perhaps doth you require.
Whose peltinge Pardon ye enioy,
to make your hartes so stronge:
That forth ye rush, to worke your wils
suppressinge right for wronge.
What are ye now absolu'd
from thrift and fall to sinne?
Or doth the Pope to make you Saincts,
for this practise beginne?
Why then, its Cock: ye may be bold,
the Heauens shalbe your owne:
I blame ye not if your good willes,
to further him be showne.
But harke ye Balaams blind,
if Popish Saincts ye bee:
The darknesse with cleare light,
at no time can agree.
Can Christe and Belliall loue?
can truth a falsehood bee?
Or shall the Goates expulse the Lambes,
from Heauen confesse to mee?
No more can you his Sainctes,
the Flocke of God deface:
Ne yet his Pardon graunt to you,
in Heauen a resting place.
But yet if cursed cruell Cain,
which shed iust Abels blood:
For Homicide shall winne the Heauens?
then Christ shall doo you good.
If Arius that Heretique,
enioy felicitie?
Then shall your Pope, & you his Sainctes
which are as ill as he.
If Iudas for betraying Christe,
shall raigne in Heauen on hie?
So shall the Pope, and you his Saincts
I can it not denie.
If Mahomet that Prophete false,
eternitie doo gaine?
Then shall the Pope, & you his Sainctes
in Heauen be sure to raigne.
If Iulius Apostata,
with Christe a place possesse?
So shall the Pope, and you his Saincts
of force I must confesse.
But harke, prepare your eares to heare
what tidinges I shall tell:
As these for their most wicked liues,
did sincke downe into Hell.
So shall the Pope, and all his Saincts
vnlesse they doo repent:
Receiue like hyre, when Christ frō Heauē
to Iudge vs shalbe sent.
For none more prone then he,
the truthe for to withstand:
And none more apte then are his Saincts
to take the sworde in hand.
To fight against Gods heauenly truth,
and those that loue the same:
Such zeale haue they vnto the drosse,
that peltinge Popes did frame.
What truth their doctrine hath,
is easie for to trie:
A man may Iudge the fruites thereof,
that hath but halfe an eie.
No truth contaynes the same,
therein is flatly coutcht
A heape of errours false and vaine,
which they far truth haue voucht.
Then cursed are they then,
that Heresies maintaine:
And teach untruthes, in steede of truth
the Apostell saieth plaine.
If Christes death and precious bloud,
shed forth vpon the Crosse:
Unable be to pourge our sinne,
and pay to God our losse.
His death was vaine I iudge,
his bloud was shed in waste:
Which all that know and trust therein,
do know the gaine they taste.
By faith they purged are,
from sinne in his sweete blood:
Though now the Pope, do tell to vs
a tale of Robin hood.
Who comes with peltinge pardons now,
and stinkinge Bulles of lead:
To Pardon sinne, and would cause vs
vnder our feete to tread.
The bloud of Christ, that heauenly Lamb
(a prety Iuglinge cast)
But God frō Heauen with vengeance hot
this Monster vile will blast.
Yea, he will breake the crewe,
of all the Popish brood:
That hope to haue a Golden day,
to shed more Martyrs bloud.
Yea, Christ wil swage the greedy thirst,
of cruell carelesse Cain:
Which persecute his members still,
and put his Saincts to paine.
He will not leaue his Churche,
to languish in distresse:
Though he permit some Tirants still,
hir Children to oppresse.
But as a faithfull husband sure,
he doth his Church regard:
And at the last amidst his wrath,
his foes will sure reward.
Yea, he will breake the Iawes
of Antichrist so wood:
Which greedely his Woluish thirst,
doth quench with Martyrs bloud.
When OG and ZEON sought to spoile,
the Israelites I finde:
A Ieptha for to shield his flocke,
the mightie God assinde.
When that Phelistia sought,
with Israell to striue:
A Sampson God did rayse at last,
to denne his foes to driue.
When Ahab did displease the Lord,
and Iesabell his Queene:
Whose hauocke to oppresse his Saincts,
full greedely was seene.
He waxed wroth, and plagued hir
in his most furious moode:
She brake hir necke, the dogges at last
did lap hir gilty bloud.
When Iabins Captaine Cisera,
did sore oppresse Gods fold:
God raysed a Debora we read,
to make his harte full cold.
When that Assyria annoide,
Samaria in deede:
God by his power, fought for them
and from their foes them freede.
When Oliphemus did assault,
Bethulia I finde:
A valiant Iudith vnto them,
the mighty God assingd.
When that Antiochus did extort,
the people of the Lorde:
And sought for to distroy them cleane,
by force of bloudy sworde.
God raisd a Machabeus then,
his flocke Elect to shield:
Thus vnto his oppressed Church,
God comfort still doth yeeld.
And what haue these his foes?
vnplagued gonne away:
No, Cysera lost his life I read,
in Tent where hid he lay.
And Oliphernus lost his head,
by Iudiths valiant hand:
Thus God doth fight for Sions health,
you Foes may vnderstand.
What? was not Haman hanged on
the tree he did prepare:
To hange the Iewes, why then I red
some Papists to beware?
Antiochus was plagued sore,
in Chariot where he lay:
The wormes did drop out of his flesh,
as you can not denay.
The Bible forth doth show
a number such as these:
Which plagued were, because the Lord,
they did so sore displease.
Then thinke ye Papists prowd,
the mighty God doth sleepe?
Because ye scape vnplagued yet,
that kill his simple sheepe.
No? God beholds your rage,
he sees his peoples griefe:
And to decay your force in time,
will graunt his Saincts reliefe.
Your Romish Bore, that now doth whet
his greedy Tuskes to spoile:
Shall reape at last to your decay,
a great and greeuous foile.
Your Babilon shall sincke for sinne,
your seate of Rome shall fall:
And God shall free his flocke frō Wolues
that seeke his Heard to thrall.
Your Purple whoore, your Romish beast
Gods Iudgements shall deface:
Whose Sorceries bewitcheth you,
as people past all grace.
Hir shamelesse Shorlinges there,
hir Marchants then shall morne:
Hir Cardinals, Bishops, Mōkes, & Friers,
shall be with wooes forlorne.
For they shall stande afore,
and singe this woofull Dittie:
Oh Babilon, Oh famous Rome,
alas thou Noble Cittie.
And you that loue your Rome alas,
and count hir so intyre,
Shall weepe hir fall, for she shall burne
with hote consuminge fire.
Your Rome is euen the Babilon,
the Angell Iohn did show:
A hold of filthy Birds and Sprites,
wherein all sinne doth flow.
A Zodom sure, a sincke corrupt
wherein remaineth euill:
For Head whereof you know, your Pope
a member of the Deuill.
And sith you haue so grim a Syre,
your Patrone for to be:
Ye must needes spit your spight at truth
as all estates may see.
And ye must toyle and moyle,
as well with tooth as nayle:
To eleuate his kingdome still,
or els the same will fayle.
But if ye prosecute your willes,
your Countrie to decaie:
Which makes the Papists still to wish,
to haue their Golden daie.
Thinke not where ere ye be,
or in what place ye staie:
But God can cut you short be sure,
and disapoint your daie,
For which som Papistes looke,
and therof make great boast:
And then as late they did, be sure
the faithfull they will roast.
Then rigor should haue rule,
where mercy now doth raigne:
And fier and faggots should not faile,
your Masse for to maintaine.
You long to haue your Holy water,
and holy bread againe:
Ye long to haue your little round God,
in Pix for to remaine.
You long to haue a popish priest,
to sing a pelting Masse:
Ye wish to haue the Churche againe,
abused as it was.
But God your longing can depose,
though long therfore ye looke:
Your Golden day may chaunce to cause,
Your neckes to stand a crooke.
And therfore leaue your whispering you,
that daily gape for newes:
Take heede all ye that do Paules Church,
in order such abuse.
Repent, amend and call for grace,
while God doth lend you time:
Embrace the truth and skorne it not,
least vengeance plague your crime.
And ye that stand in doubt my freindes,
cast all your doubts away:
And vnto Gods eternall truth,
trust as your only stay.
For if ye stray from Christe,
and vnto Sathan cleaue:
He will when you haue greatest neede,
in daunger still you leaue.
For who so doth forsake the Lord,
for feare of worldly losse:
And thinketh skorne vpon his backe,
to take his Maisters Crosse.
Is far vnmeete to haue a place,
with Christ in Heauen aboue:
As plainly he in his Gospell,
at large doth show and proue.
And now ye that do raunge at large,
like Papists stoute and bolde:
In many a place of London sure,
when tidinges straunge are tolde.
Refraine your tounges, beware hēceforth
what you do speake and saie:
For God regards his little Fold,
we haue the Golden daie.
His Gospell pure is truely taught,
and Preachers ready are:
To vs out of his holy Lawe,
our dewties to declare.
The Sacraments are ministred,
as Christe to vs hath tought:
Wherein we learne what he for vs,
by his deare death hath wrought.
For as we eate materiall Bread,
and Drinke materiall Wine:
So spiritually we feede by Faith,
on Christes fleshe deuine.
And so we drinke his precious Bloud,
to cheare our Soules with all:
Not grosly as you Papists saie,
with outward teeth Carnall.
But Spiritually by Faith,
vpon his Flesh we feede:
And so we Drincke his precious Bloud,
to comfort vs in deede.
Then haue we not a Golden daye?
the Lord prolonge the same:
That in his feare, henceforth we may
practise our liues to frame.
And so be thankfull to our God,
for these his giftes of grace:
That he may still behold our daies,
with his most louyng face.
That all our wordes & deedes henceforth,
may learne so to accorde:
That we with harts vnfained may,
still liue and Laude the Lorde.
And next our gracious Queene,
so Honour and obaye:
That England may be freed still,
from Papists Golden daye.
Which vnto those that feare the Lord,
and loue his Ueritie:
Through rigor and extorted force,
a dismall daie would be.
From which Lord fende thy littel flocke,
and giue our foes a fall:
Confound those cruell Caines (O Lord)
that for a chaunge do call.
And so thy truth do grafte,
with in our tender hart:
That from thy truth and Testament,
no daunger cause vs start.
Confound the rage of Rebels stout,
Lord be our strength and Towre:
As from the Turke so shield vs Lord,
from force of Popish powre.
Abate their pride which wilfull be,
in lingringe hope to staie:
Protect thy Fold, defend thy Churche
from Papists Golden daye.
Aduaunce thy Gospell still,
let not thy praise decaie:
Stretch forth thine arme, & shield vs still
from Papists Golden daie.
Let all that loue thy Testament,
with harts vnfayned praie:
That neuer more in England here,
the Pope haue Golden daie.
Increase the number of thy folde,
thy mercie Lord displaie:
Prolonge amonge thy simple sheepe,
this happy Golden daie.
That we thy pasture may attaine,
and so thy woorde obaie:
That we at no time neede to feare,
the Papists Golden daie.
Come hast thy kingdome mighty God,
come Iesus Christ we praie:
That all our foes, may learne and know
we haue a Golden daie.
Our Realme & Queene defend dere God,
with hart and minde I praie:
That by thy aide his Grace may keepe,
the Papists from their daie.
Hir health, hir wealth, and vitall race
in mercy longe increase:
And graunt that Ciuill warre and strife,
in England still may cease.
Confound the purpose and deuise,
of all that carelesse crewe:
Which seeke by force for to withstand,
thy worde and Gospell trewe.
Preserue the Counsell of this Realme,
let thy Sprite be their staie:
That they their Councell may imploy,
to breake the Papistes daie.
Sende Preachers true good Lord,
thy Gospell to display:
That by their trauell they may let,
the Papists Golden day.
The Commons of this Realme defend,
that loue may ay abound:
And graunt obedience to our Queene,
may euer more be found.
That as she faithfull is,
hir Subiectes ay to loue:
So true and trustie vnto hir,
our hartes may euer proue.
Thus shall the mighty God,
be our Defence and stay:
And keepe the cruell Papists still,
from their longe wished day.
And we shall haue as God do graunt,
to Papists swift decay:
The worde of grace sincerely Preacht,
which is our Golden day.
Which to continew longe,
to God let vs all pray:
Whose glorious name be Lauded still,
for this our Golden day.