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The seuenth Satyre.

A DERISION OF CHIDING and brawling. The stryfe is betwixte Rupilius king of Pryneste, and one Persius: a wonderful vndecente thing, for a noble man to be a scoulder.

The fellone tongue of Rupilie,
that traytor mungrill king,
How Persius hath dreste in kynde,
it is no nouell thing.
As common as the carts way that.
This Persie for the moste,
Did make his bode at Ginnia:
with Rupilie at hoste.
With gybes, and glickes, and taunting stryfe
a brawler sharpe and sore

Rashe, arrogante, and by vse had
of ribaldrye suche store:
That from a dosen cacklinge drabbes,
the bell he mighte haue bore
Well, to the kinge, lyke dogge, and catte,
these two did then agree,
Lyke champions fell, their toylesum tongues
they vsde as weapons free.
For eche man seekes to noy his foe,
(the olde sayde saw doth tell,
With prowes, and those martiall feats,
wherein he doth excell.
Twixte Priams hautie Hector, and
corragiouse Achill,
So keene and mortall was their wrathe,
that he did Hector kyll.
And for no other cause I trow,
but that, in those same twayne,
Lyke force in principallitie,
and parfytnesse did raine.
Dasterds will quickly parte them selues,
vnequall if they be,
(As Glaucus was to Diomede)
the weaker shrinketh, he
Departs in peace, as recreante,
his ransom maks him free.
Lorde Brutus was lyeutenaunte, then
of Asia the lesse,
When Rupilie, and Persius,
to combat do addresse.
Lyke as two masters of the fence,
vnshathe their blades of mighte,
So, these same two, tongue puisaunte knyghts,
with scoulding, ginn the fyghte,
The auditorye numberouse,
the Persye onset gaue,

The people laugh, he praiseth Brute,
and his retenue braue.
Duke Brute, the sonne of Asia,
his men, he cals the starres,
Balde Rupilie, he rattles vp,
to combat, if he darres.
He calde him hurtefull hatefull dogge,
to earthe, a greeuouse sine,

Flowte.

Lyke pleasaunte streame beset with woode,
so flowes his talke diuine.
Then Rupilie let issue out,
his well ycouched wordes,
Through seasonde, as the drubled lakes,
that keepeth aye in fordes.
So perfyt and exacte a scoulde,
that women mighte geue place,
Whose tatling tongues, had won a wispe,
to stande before theyr face.
The Persie see, his foe so fell,

A raylers tōg insupportable, therefore not to be aunswered by wordes, but repressed by rigor of the maiestrate.

and how he did him snape,
Thoughte impossible to resiste,
ne wiste he how to scape.
Lorde Brute (quod he) my liege lord Brute,
for all the gods aboue,
Thou, that arte wonte to hasserd all,
to win, thy countryes loue,
To wringe the maces forth their handes,
to daunte the dukes a downe,
Be wrekde, be wrekde (thy onely prayse)
vpon this doggishe clowne.
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