 | Philogamus |  |
Philogamus
Gyue
place ye Poetes fine
bow doune now & encline
For nowe ye Muses nyne
So Sacred ād Diuine
In Parnase holy Hyll
Haue wrought theyr worthy wyll
And by theyr goodly skyll
Uppon that myghty Mountayne
In Hellycons Fountayne
That alwayes doth remayne
Synce Pegase made it flowe
As by your bokes we knowe)
Haue washed the lyppes of one
That slepte not longe agone
That forked Hyll vpon
Who after that anon
As he had sene the Muses
Newe Poetry he vses
And yours he cleane refuses.
For wakyng sodenly
He wrote ryght wortheily
Suche kynde of Poetrye
As neuer one of you
Had hearde or sene tyl nowe
He wrote I tel you playne
An Antygraphe full mayne
None suche on thys syde Spayne
Antipus to suppresse
And clerly to compesse
Wherein he fayneth no lesse
But that yf God were dead
He myght be raysed in Bread
Wherfore ye Poetes al
And clarkes bothe greate and smal
Submyt your selues ye shal
And downe before hym fall
And neuer not to ryse
For you cowlde not deuyse
So greate an interpryse
As thys new poet dyd
Whose connyng is yet hyd
And many other workes
That secretly yet lurckes
None suche amonge the Turkes
Nor Saracens can be founde
The Gospellers to confounde.
Hys workes are so well bownd
And buylded on suche grounde
As cannot wel decay
Tyl the sande be washed away.
He is skylled so wonderously
In the scyence of Masonrye.
Wherfore I wyl not spare
Hys learnyng to declare
Although wyth myckle care
Because I want the wayes
Thys Poete for to prayse
And fame vpon hym rayse
That floweth in these dayes,
Wythe suche exceadynge Eloquence
And Superfluous Sapyence
Imbute wtyh Insuffycyence
Of learnyng and Intellygence
Whose wrytynges are laudable
So new founde and not able
I tell you wythout fable
That no man vnder skye
Can prayse them worthely
They shewe them selues so fayer
That none can them appayer
And therfore now beholde
And see how well he coulde
Describe them that are bolde
To marry beyng sworne
To kepe them chast beforne
Makyng theyr vow a scorne
And takyng to them wyues,
Wyth them to leade theyr lyues
But wyth these blooddes he stryues
And out of towne them dryues
Wyth eloquent taxacions
And vyolent vexacyons
And earneste exprobracyons
Wythe instant insultacions
And straunge denomynacyons
That none among all nacyons
Can shew suche learned fasshyons
As can thys noble scholer
He may well weare a coller
Of .H. for hys humanitee
And for hys greate Urbanytye
He may weare vppon hys Bonnet
A double .P. well set
And wyth a traye aboue
In tokenynge of the loue
That towarde hym he beareth
Whyche men to Chastenes sweareth.
Wherfore loke vp and see
Yf ye beleue not me
Your owne Iudges to be
For easely may ye spye
Yf ye looke earnestly
And well hys latten trye
That oute of Barbarye
Hys learninge he hath fett
And all hys Knowledge gett.
bow doune now & encline
For nowe ye Muses nyne
So Sacred ād Diuine
In Parnase holy Hyll
Haue wrought theyr worthy wyll
And by theyr goodly skyll
Uppon that myghty Mountayne
In Hellycons Fountayne
That alwayes doth remayne
Synce Pegase made it flowe
As by your bokes we knowe)
Haue washed the lyppes of one
That slepte not longe agone
That forked Hyll vpon
Who after that anon
As he had sene the Muses
Newe Poetry he vses
And yours he cleane refuses.
He wrote ryght wortheily
Suche kynde of Poetrye
As neuer one of you
Had hearde or sene tyl nowe
He wrote I tel you playne
An Antygraphe full mayne
None suche on thys syde Spayne
Antipus to suppresse
And clerly to compesse
Wherein he fayneth no lesse
But that yf God were dead
He myght be raysed in Bread
Wherfore ye Poetes al
And clarkes bothe greate and smal
Submyt your selues ye shal
And downe before hym fall
And neuer not to ryse
For you cowlde not deuyse
So greate an interpryse
As thys new poet dyd
Whose connyng is yet hyd
And many other workes
None suche amonge the Turkes
Nor Saracens can be founde
The Gospellers to confounde.
Hys workes are so well bownd
And buylded on suche grounde
As cannot wel decay
Tyl the sande be washed away.
He is skylled so wonderously
In the scyence of Masonrye.
Wherfore I wyl not spare
Hys learnyng to declare
Although wyth myckle care
Because I want the wayes
Thys Poete for to prayse
And fame vpon hym rayse
That floweth in these dayes,
Wythe suche exceadynge Eloquence
And Superfluous Sapyence
Imbute wtyh Insuffycyence
Of learnyng and Intellygence
Whose wrytynges are laudable
So new founde and not able
That no man vnder skye
Can prayse them worthely
They shewe them selues so fayer
That none can them appayer
And therfore now beholde
And see how well he coulde
Describe them that are bolde
To marry beyng sworne
To kepe them chast beforne
Makyng theyr vow a scorne
And takyng to them wyues,
Wyth them to leade theyr lyues
But wyth these blooddes he stryues
And out of towne them dryues
Wyth eloquent taxacions
And vyolent vexacyons
And earneste exprobracyons
Wythe instant insultacions
And straunge denomynacyons
That none among all nacyons
Can shew suche learned fasshyons
He may well weare a coller
Of .H. for hys humanitee
And for hys greate Urbanytye
He may weare vppon hys Bonnet
A double .P. well set
And wyth a traye aboue
In tokenynge of the loue
That towarde hym he beareth
Whyche men to Chastenes sweareth.
Wherfore loke vp and see
Yf ye beleue not me
Your owne Iudges to be
For easely may ye spye
Yf ye looke earnestly
And well hys latten trye
That oute of Barbarye
Hys learninge he hath fett
And all hys Knowledge gett.
For thys I dare well Sweare
Here can no suche fyne gear
Be had but onely theare,
Aduise it well and reade
For here it doth succede.
O Insensati
All marryed preistes that be Nupti
Barbis disguisati
Carnales hedos Uocati
Quorum deus venter
To ye belly they be boūd by Indēture
Uentri semper obedire
Uulueque seruire
Quorum Sathan est Pater
Et Lecheria Mater
Thys Genera Uiperarum
Runnes per Orbem Terrarum
O God omnipotent
Qui regnas et viuis
Sende shame and punishement
To all Prestes and theyr wyues
And let them goo voyde of all grace
Et infernorum supplicia
Wyth Lucyfer to haue a Place
In sempiterna supplicia.
Be had but onely theare,
Aduise it well and reade
For here it doth succede.
O Insensati
All marryed preistes that be Nupti
Barbis disguisati
Carnales hedos Uocati
Quorum deus venter
To ye belly they be boūd by Indēture
Uentri semper obedire
Uulueque seruire
Quorum Sathan est Pater
Et Lecheria Mater
Thys Genera Uiperarum
Runnes per Orbem Terrarum
O God omnipotent
Qui regnas et viuis
Sende shame and punishement
To all Prestes and theyr wyues
And let them goo voyde of all grace
Et infernorum supplicia
Wyth Lucyfer to haue a Place
In sempiterna supplicia.
[O meter passing measure]
The Prayse of the Meter.
O meter passing measureO treatise of hygh treasure
So Typycal in fygure
None suche from lyn to lygure
Lapte vp in suche fyne latyn
As passeth both syls and satyn
O Homer so Heroicall
And Percius Satyricall
Where are your workes Poetycal?
O Horace where art thou
Uyrgyll and Ouide now
And all the rest of you
Let se who dare auow
One suche a worke to shew
No no, ful wel I know
Take al you on a rowe
Ye cannot do it I trow
Not one of you that wrote
Suche Satyres wel I wot
Yf he your bokes had sene
He wolde haue shamed them clene
You had no Peers you wene
Because wyth lawrel grene
Crowned you were by ryght
Be crowned wyth the Uyne
And Garland Canabyne
For engyne and for wytt
The muses dyd admytt
Not onely hym to yt
But gaue hym so muche grace
That yf he vewe the face
Of one In any place
He maye make hym wyth spede
A Poete to procede.
The profe therof indede
Ful playnly dyd appere
Wythin thys halfe yere
For one that was a Smytthe
A forger at the stytthe
A myghtye man of pytthe
And stronge of lym and lytthe
When he had bene hym wythe
And talked but a whyle
He wrote so hygh a style
As none wythin a myle
Coulde fashyon wyth a fyle
Wel wel for all ye smyle
Certes I tel you treuth
A lack yt is greate ruth
That men wyl not beleue
The gyftes that Muses geue
Besyde all thys hys Smythery
Uulcanus taught hym certanly
Wherwt he wroughe right curyously
As ye may se yt euydently
Conteyned in the testymony
And latter wylle of Heresy.
For there He sheweth Poetry
Hyghly professyng Romery
Lo now I say therfore
Your bokes we nede no more
They maye be rent and tore
What though ye crye and rore
We nede not now your lore
For yf thys arte were drownd
Agayne it may be found
Euen by the very sound
Of these new Poetes Tooles
If they be red In scholes
You may syt downe on stooles
And so to take your rest
As I suppose it best.
But well ye thyncke I Geyst
By cocke for all your lokes
You maye claspe vp your bookes
And then go kepe the roockes
Or els wyth hangle hookes
Go fyshe and take some flookes
For cleane your cleargy crookes
And goeth no more on ryght
Synce these beganne to wryght
Ye haue no more no might
To florysh in theyr syght
But thys I wyll you tell
The Mason doth excell
Wherfore he may full well
Aboue all beare the Bell
Wherfore wyth all my power
I wyll eche daye and hower
Aduaunce hys hyghe honour
Wyth Hellicons Lauacre
To washe me by theyr ayde
To do as I haue saide.
The prayse of the Poete.
O Poete so impudentWhyche neuer yet was studente
To thee, the Goddes prudente
Minerua is illudente
Thou wrytest thynges dyffuse
Incongrue, and confuse
Obfuscate and obtuse
No man the lyke doth vse
Among the Turckes or Iewes
Alwayes inuentyng newes
That are incomparable
They be so fyrme and stable
Lyke as a Shyppe is able
Wythout Ancre and Cable
Roother Maste or Sayle
Pully Rope or Nayle
In Wynde Weather or Hayle
And not the course to fayle
So thys our Poet maye
Wythout a stopp or staye
In cunnynge wend the way
Aswel by darke as day
And neuer go astray
Yf yt be as they say.
O Poet rare and Recent
Dedecorate/and indecent
Insolent and insensate
Contendyng and condensate
Obtused and obturate
Obumbylate, obdurate
Sparyng no Prest or Curate
Cyuylyan or Rurate
That be alredy marryed
And from theyr vow bene varyed
Wherto the scrypture them caried
They myght as wel haue taryed
I sweare by the north doore Rood
That stowte was whyle he stood
That they had bene as good
For I am in suche a moode
That for my power and parte
Wyth al my wyt and arte
Wyth whole intent and harte
I wyl so at them Darte
That some of them shal farte
Before they feele it smarte.
Coulde not these bloods be pleased
Wyth mens wyues to be eased
And in their daughtars seased
As wel as the other greased
Though thus they had not preased?
In fayth they shalbe feased
For I set to my hand
In fyght wyth them to stand
By water and by lande
By grauell and by Sande
And by the salte sea strond
Beholde here is a wand
To beate them back and bone
I trow a thyng alone
To make these gallantes grone
They shalbe so dismayde
So fearfull and afrayde
That downe they shalbe layde,
As thycke as hoppes and hayle.
Nowe wyll I them assayle
And threashe them withe my Flayle
To marre these married Preistes
I fyghte wyth bothe my Fystes
Looke on the fraye who Lystes.
E L Q U I D U O S B E O ?
Lo now how like you thys?
I trowe I dyd you Blisse
And them, as woorthy is
To dyng tyll they shall Pisse
Me thynke I doo not misse
Though my Crowne be not scraped
Nor I in Order mysshaped
Nor for suche woorshyppe gaped
Nor anoyted Preyste wyth Oyle
Nor Creame or other Soyle
Nor tooke suche fylthy Foyle
Yet wyll I tugge and Toyle
Tosse turne and Turmoyle
Cumbre Clowte and Coyle
Dismembre and Dispoyle
All them that I maye catche
That dayly wayte and watche
Feacte wenches to vpsnatche
And marrye to their Matche
But I wyll them dispatche
And byggely on them beate
For all their wyues so feacte
That are so Nyce and Neate
Whiche sittyng on their Seate
Of Scriptures wyll Intreate
And fayne woulde vs defeacte
Wyth woordes grymme and greate
From Beades of woodde and Geate
And from our myghtie Meate
That is, our God of wheate
Puffe, so I Swelle and Sweate
I Fridge I Frothe and Freate
Of thys Uncowthe to thynke
But suerly shall they Drynke
Tyll aboue the grounde they stynke
Wyth a Lyrycum Twynke
For I can neuer Shrynke
As longe as our Uulcanus
And lusty Longimanus
Wyll sticke whyle he is Sanus
For though he be Prophanus
He is not nothyng Uanus
Nor learued lyke Alanus
I tell you he is no Nanus
But one of stature stoute
No Lubber nor no Loute
He wyll reache rounde aboute
And ventyng wyth hys snoute
Wyll touche them toppe and towte
And all theyr rufflyng rowte
Wyth Clarckly clubbes to cloute
For fyersly hath he fought
Endeuouryng to dryue oute
The reader in our queare
That draweth to hym here
Men commyng farre and neare
There dyd oure Smythe appeare
With countenaunce so cleare
Full chaūgeable in cheare
And dapper as a deare
Chefely he dyd hym charge
How he had taught at large
More then he coulde dyscharge
Or fynde in text or Marge
Concernyng Consecratyon
And Transubstanciation
Or all oure Transmutacion
And Substaunce Alteracion
Deniyng Ueneracion
And also Adoracion
In tyme of Ministration
And that Non dentibus
Panem Prementibus
Nullis Euentibus
Christum Gustari
Nec Mancipari
Posse vel decipi.
Sensus, cum Recipi
Dabitur Panis
Sed Smyth, Iminanis
Abiit Inanis
But or he wente awaye
He trymmed hym I saye
Wyth goodly tantes and gaye
And wyth a tryggum tray
Lyke a fyne Philologus
Or rather a Pantolobus
He called hym Spermologus
And wold haue a Dialogus
But were there a Catalogus
Of hym and al hys sect
He myght be chef elect
These reders to correct
For wel can he obiect
And Subtelly suspect
In thynges that be dyrect
But sure yf he be chect
Your corrage is deiect
And al your hope in vayne
Yet styl wyl I remayne
To take for you greate payne
Yf ye wyl me retayne
And put my selfe in parrel
To fyght thus in your quarrell
Yf thou O Poet once
That well canst cowche thy stones
Or faber wyth hys mall
To me for helpe wyll call
Either wyth boke or word
Soone wyl I be the thyrd
So if I fynde you kynde
Certes you shal me bynde
To shew that is behynd
Wel wel ye know my mynde.
I trowe I dyd you Blisse
And them, as woorthy is
To dyng tyll they shall Pisse
Me thynke I doo not misse
Though my Crowne be not scraped
Nor I in Order mysshaped
Nor for suche woorshyppe gaped
Nor anoyted Preyste wyth Oyle
Nor Creame or other Soyle
Nor tooke suche fylthy Foyle
Yet wyll I tugge and Toyle
Tosse turne and Turmoyle
Cumbre Clowte and Coyle
All them that I maye catche
That dayly wayte and watche
Feacte wenches to vpsnatche
And marrye to their Matche
But I wyll them dispatche
And byggely on them beate
For all their wyues so feacte
That are so Nyce and Neate
Whiche sittyng on their Seate
Of Scriptures wyll Intreate
And fayne woulde vs defeacte
Wyth woordes grymme and greate
From Beades of woodde and Geate
And from our myghtie Meate
That is, our God of wheate
Puffe, so I Swelle and Sweate
I Fridge I Frothe and Freate
Of thys Uncowthe to thynke
But suerly shall they Drynke
Tyll aboue the grounde they stynke
Wyth a Lyrycum Twynke
For I can neuer Shrynke
And lusty Longimanus
Wyll sticke whyle he is Sanus
For though he be Prophanus
He is not nothyng Uanus
Nor learued lyke Alanus
I tell you he is no Nanus
But one of stature stoute
No Lubber nor no Loute
He wyll reache rounde aboute
And ventyng wyth hys snoute
Wyll touche them toppe and towte
And all theyr rufflyng rowte
Wyth Clarckly clubbes to cloute
For fyersly hath he fought
Endeuouryng to dryue oute
The reader in our queare
That draweth to hym here
Men commyng farre and neare
There dyd oure Smythe appeare
With countenaunce so cleare
Full chaūgeable in cheare
And dapper as a deare
How he had taught at large
More then he coulde dyscharge
Or fynde in text or Marge
Concernyng Consecratyon
And Transubstanciation
Or all oure Transmutacion
And Substaunce Alteracion
Deniyng Ueneracion
And also Adoracion
In tyme of Ministration
And that Non dentibus
Panem Prementibus
Nullis Euentibus
Christum Gustari
Nec Mancipari
Posse vel decipi.
Sensus, cum Recipi
Dabitur Panis
Sed Smyth, Iminanis
Abiit Inanis
But or he wente awaye
He trymmed hym I saye
Wyth goodly tantes and gaye
And wyth a tryggum tray
Lyke a fyne Philologus
He called hym Spermologus
And wold haue a Dialogus
But were there a Catalogus
Of hym and al hys sect
He myght be chef elect
These reders to correct
For wel can he obiect
And Subtelly suspect
In thynges that be dyrect
But sure yf he be chect
Your corrage is deiect
And al your hope in vayne
Yet styl wyl I remayne
To take for you greate payne
Yf ye wyl me retayne
And put my selfe in parrel
To fyght thus in your quarrell
Yf thou O Poet once
That well canst cowche thy stones
Or faber wyth hys mall
To me for helpe wyll call
Either wyth boke or word
So if I fynde you kynde
Certes you shal me bynde
To shew that is behynd
Wel wel ye know my mynde.
LO thus Philogamus
After thys sorte
Helpeth Misogamus
Hym to comforte
Agaynst Monogamus
That dothe reporte
That youre Apogamus
Is but aborte.
After thys sorte
Helpeth Misogamus
Hym to comforte
Agaynst Monogamus
That dothe reporte
That youre Apogamus
Is but aborte.
FINIS.
QUODPHYLOGAMUS. Alias. I. What call Ye Hym.
| Philogamus | |