The First Parte, of The Eyghth liberall Science Entituled, Ars adulandi, The Arte of Flatterie, with the confutation therof, both very pleasaunt and profitable, deuised and compiled, by Vlpian Fulwell |
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[O mighty loue sith licence thine to speake is now assignde] |
 | The First Parte, of The Eyghth liberall Science |  |
[O mighty loue sith licence thine to speake is now assignde]
O mighty loue sith licence thine to speake is now assignde,And pardon free proclaimde, giue leaue for mee to speake my minde,
Fooles boltes (men say) are soonest shot yet ofte they hit the marke:
Blinde Bayard is as sure of foote as Palfrey in the darke.
On Stage who stands to play his part ech frown may not him daunt
Some play to please, some laugh, some wepe, some flatter, some do taūt
But hee whose parte tendes to this ende, fond fansies toyes to school:
Best welcome is when hee resines, the Scaffold to the foole.
Lo now the foole is come in place, though not with patcht pyde coate,
To tell such newes as esrt hee saw within Cocklorels bote.
The Rowers cryde, to Barge to Barge, the passengers make haste:
The tyde is turnde, and euery foole in his degree is plast.
With lusty gaole and laboring Oars the Barge hath won the Porte
Where Iupiter doth raigne and rule, within a stately Forte.
Eche one deuisde which way were best in fauoures grace to grow:
Some crake, some brag, some flaunt it out, some crouch and creepe ful low
With cap and knee some sue & serue, some gape for others falles
Some snatch the fruit before rebound, some gnaw on tastlesse shalles.
Some fish and catch a Frog at last yet feede on better hope:
Some sting their handes with nettles keene, while they for flowers grope
Some sing some daunce, some pype, some play, & al for fauours grace:
Thus greedy gayne makes men beleeue, they runne in endlesse race,
What desperate hazard is so hard, that makes the yonker doubt,
What way so wilde where gaine doth grow, that worldling findes not out
What hole so small in writings olde, that cannot be now found:
But lucre & large cōscience makes some holes where wordes be found
Ah, Conscience is a banisht wight, with garment al to torne?
But though shee sit in homly ragges, she laughes some robes to scorne
Shee smiles at tyrants that turmoyle to make their will a law:
Whose climbing mindes by right or wrong, would hold all men in aw.
Refusing fame and chusing shame, by hunting Mammons chace:
A fig (say they) for good report, let mee haue Fortunes grace.
Oh Ioue, are these things hid from thee, nay, nay, thou seest them all:
Thou seest that sundry sortes of men, by flattery do aspire:
To guerdon great, when trusty trueth hath hatred for her hyre,
Thou seest I know the subtile sleights that worldly wightes deuise:
Who currieth fauour currantly, is onely counted wise.
Alas how is Religion vsde to serue the turne at neede:
Whose cloake hides sundry hypocrites that many errours breede?
For why tis now a common trade, when refuge all is past:
To take Religion for a shield, a shift to serue at last.
Oh Ioue if thou wilt ransacke some that vaunt of her decrees
They will appeare but flauntinge leaues of withered fruitlesse trees,
To flatter Princes many men, apply them to the time:
They force no whit Religions fall, so they aloft may clime.
Now mighty Ioue, looke well about all thinges are in thy sight:
The Touchstone tries, all is not golde, that glistereth faire & bright:
Loe, thus I haue exprest my minde, and shewd forth my intent,
My part is playd, and I am plasde so that I bee not shent.
| The First Parte, of The Eyghth liberall Science | |