The Anatomie of the Romane Clergie or, a Discoverie of the Abvses Thereof. Written in Latine by sundrie Authors of their owne profession. And Translated into English verse by G. L. [i.e. George Lauder] |
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 | The Anatomie of the Romane Clergie |  |
1
THE ORDER OF THE Friers, written by Lelius Capilupus in Latine verse, and translated into English.
I am the man when others died for loue,
Who in the woods my verses did endite
In Countrie rymes, which trifles then did proue:
But now resolu'd a greater worke to write,
Yet not such lyes as Virgill did inuent,
Of Didoes death, and blam'd Anchises sonne:
My song shall be of Friers multipotent,
Who harbour grauitie within a gowne:
Couragious men, yong, lustie, strong, and stout,
Whose hearts and minds are from all labour free;
This will I sing, their prayses all (no doubt)
By Mantoes helpe and pleasant harmony.
Who in the woods my verses did endite
In Countrie rymes, which trifles then did proue:
But now resolu'd a greater worke to write,
Yet not such lyes as Virgill did inuent,
Of Didoes death, and blam'd Anchises sonne:
My song shall be of Friers multipotent,
Who harbour grauitie within a gowne:
Couragious men, yong, lustie, strong, and stout,
Whose hearts and minds are from all labour free;
This will I sing, their prayses all (no doubt)
By Mantoes helpe and pleasant harmony.
Their first beginning.
Their race first came from Iupiter aboue,If herein we may Histories beleeue:
Yet not the lesse their constancie to proue,
They were constrain'd like Hermites poore to liue
In dens and caues, through woods and wildernesse:
No house they had, no resting place at all,
But wandring to and fro in great distresse,
Did eate such fruite as from the trees did fall.
2
No wine was found amongst that companie,
Of daintie fare they neuer once did thinke,
Nor of such things as tempt to lecherie:
All sober men, religious, chast, vpright.
But who (alas) can chuse but these times rue,
If he be pleased but to take a sight,
And marke the new-brood of Friers holy crue.
Their first Authour Saint Francis.
Downe from the skies a Saint came suddenly,Who did conuent this multitude most pure,
Charging them all from wildernesse to flie
To ciuill Townes, where they might liue secure.
Then like a raging torrent they ore ran
All Europe, Asia, Affricke, and Indie,
Possessing all this vniuerse, which then
Seem'd insufficient them to satisfie.
Thus changing desart woods, and flourie fields,
For golden cloysters, Pallaces most faire,
The youth enur'd to paine, to pleasure yeelds,
When as they came where companie repaire:
And casting off the wonted grauitie,
Which their forefathers in the daies of old
So much had vsde, clad with impietie,
With open face grew impudently bold.
Their ease.
Their chiefe care now is for to make good cheare,And by the fire to sit each winter night:
3
Prouide a shadow from Apollos sight.
In gownes they go, to keepe them from the cold,
(Or else to cloake their knaueries from being known)
And with a cowle or cap sow'd twenty fold,
They arme themselues against the gout and stone.
The late off-spring.
This race (immortall studies to maintaineThe honour which their Predecessors wonne)
Rare document, and orders did ordaine,
With offices and roomes for euery one,
Like magistrates who rule a ciuill Towne:
Some are prefer'd to guide the holy band,
Some for the Church and seruice vp and downe:
Some with the Priest must at the Altar stand,
One, must receipt of gifts officiate,
Another for to dresse their gardens well.
One must be porter of the cloyster gate,
To keepe them in from Nuns, if flesh rebell:
They are all shorne, both on the pate and chin.
Bigge bellied, bacon backt, as fat as swine,
With daintie cates they gorge their guts within,
All nosde like turkie-cocks with drinking wine.
Their Orders.
Bvt though I had an hundred tongues and moe,I could not tell how many sorts there be,
Nor shew the names and orders which do flow
From this wast Sea in their posteritie.
4
Their Mattins.
When this vile crew hath soundly slept all nightFrom beds of softest downe then vp they rise,
At sound of sacred bels when day growes light,
And go to Church where each rare Relique lies:
With great deuotion when they Mattins sing,
The Priest begins all clad in purest white,
Whose roaring voice, makes all the Church to ring:
The rest to answer him againe delight.
This being done he to the Altar goes,
And reckons vp a thousand Saints at once:
From his hoarse throate, & speaking through his nose
Thrise crying loud with many fained grones,
We be the cause of all our miserie,
Oh holy Sire whom no place can containe,
Thy glorious name be praisd eternallie:
Let vs once see thy countenance againe,
Since we thy holy issue are indeed,
And our first fathers from the heauens descended,
Be alway present with vs in our need,
And take vs to thee when this life is ended.
Their Masse.
Here are the reliques Lord, which that last night,Thou left behind, when men thy death decreed:
Here is that Altar euer in our sight,
Vpon the which we breake the holy bread.
O Sonne of God, why see I now thy face,
With bloudie wounds deformed all about:
And skin so rent with scarres in euery place,
5
The damned fiends do tremble at thy sight,
And all the host of that infernall pit.
Thou with thy Father mak'st our suite go right,
And we with God himselfe at banquets sit.
Oh heare our cries and to our plaints giue eare,
Most holy Virgine, vndefil'd and chaste,
Mother of grace, request thy Sonne to heare
Our prayers, and on earth let vs haue rest.
This being done, the bread he takes in hand,
And turnes it vp and downe with apish toyes,
And that he sayes no man can vnderstand,
His mind is so bereft with sudden ioyes.
At last the holy Host he breakes in peeces,
And swallowes it all greedily at once:
Which time, to beate his breast he neuer ceasses,
And sadly sigheth forth his forged grones.
The Calix next he sighing holdeth vp,
While all the people bowing downe their heads,
Sit muttering (what, they know not) to the cup
And pray out all the number of their beads.
When in his swagging belly he doth put
(As he affirmes) the bodie of his God,
The cup he empties in his fasting gut,
At which, the stupid multitude doth nod.
At last he sprinkles all about the Altar,
And on the people, as they sit and pray,
His diuel-driuing coniur'd holy water:
This done, bids them depart and go away.
6
The Friers preaching.
An aged Frier, or old Father goesVp to the pulpit in a Reuerent pace,
Where while he stands (all white with yeares) he showes,
As if he were the mirrour of all grace:
And there declares the torments of the hels,
And how th' Assyrians tower did ayme at heauen.
Of miracles a thousand iests he tels,
With some true tales, to make his lyes go euen.
He threatens then the rusticke people all,
With plagues and sicknesse which will them infest,
With tempests, raine, which on them hee'le make fall:
And that with famine they shall be opprest.
What shall they do, the sillie people crie,
And keepe a wofull murmur in the place,
The women prostrate on their faces lie,
And earnestly intreate the Saints for grace.
He rests a space, and then begins againe,
More soberly, and stretching forth his arme,
Holds vp a rod, whose vertues he doth faine,
To be most rare, gainst sorceries and charmes.
With this (saies he) the soules I can recall,
That are condemn'd to Purgatorie fiers.
Downe at his feete the people kneeling fall,
Suing for pardon to their buried siers.
Then he begins with euery one apart,
To heare Confession how they led their liues,
And they declare the secrets of their heart,
As he demands, both children, men and wiues.
Such as bring gifts of siluer or of gold,
7
He them absolues from all misdeeds of old;
And pardons freely all their errours quite.
But they frō whom (poore soules) he nought receiues
To Purgatorie must, with woe and shame,
And to the diuell their soules he carelesse leaues,
To be tormented in that purging flame.
Their Dinner.
This Sermon done, to Cloister he retires,Where all the rest for dinner do attend.
Great worke is made to fill the hungrie Friers:
They euery man to seuerall office send.
Some in the kitchin turning spits are set,
Well garnished with store of daintie fare,
Some from the Butler do the Naprie get:
Each to discharge his dutie hath a care.
Meane while the gourmonds stand with greedie eyes,
Readie to eate vp very boords and all,
In expectation till their Prior rise,
And from his cabin shewes himselfe i'th hall.
At last he comes, Lord of that rabling rout,
Attended on with store of companie,
A foule fat monstrous Lubber, full o'th gout:
Whose length and breadth of one dimension be.
His backe and bellie both of equall roundnesse,
He tumbleth forward like an emptie tunne,
Whose vast concauitie doth sound profoundnesse,
Not to be fill'd before the euenings Sunne.
Him all admire, and stand about his seate,
He charges them to peace when falne at strife.
8
Perpetuall prison shall consume their life.
Remember (saies he) wonted miserie
In former time, your hunger thirst and cold,
And how ye now swim in felicitie,
In ease and pleasure, health, wealth, full of gold.
This is the way to heauen which we now leade:
Go to, then all, and thanke the God aboue,
Who makes you now vpon these meates to feed.
Then to their roomes all instantly remoue,
Each one makes haste that he may first sit downe,
And who shall haue his hand first in the dish,
Belching like basest Hinde and rudest clowne,
Throughout the house, and still for more they wish.
Some picke the bones, some licke the fallen crummes,
Some sit carousing in the German sort.
When all is done, and no more victuall comes,
This gracelesse band ith fields themselues disport.
Their pastime.
There they begin to wantonnize and play,Among the woods and pleasant running springs,
With sundrie exercises all the day,
And euery man his instrument forth brings.
Some for to fish with nets, and lines layed out,
Others to hunt, bring grayhounds for the Hare,
Some set their snares for fowles that flie about,
And others to the flowrie meades repaire.
Whereas they iumpe, and dance, and loudly sing,
Laugh, tumble, sport, and liue in iollitie,
That all the neighbouring woods with ecchoes ring:
9
But if it chance that any man of fame,
Should come to see their merrie exercise,
Then all the troupe do hide themselues for shame,
And backe into the Cloysters each man flies.
The begging Friers.
Ovt of the towne the begging Friers flie,The Countries charitie and helpe to craue,
Who with their lies and glosing flatterie,
Get store of meate, such as the people haue.
Both bread, meale, butter, oyle, and fruite, and cheese,
Which they lay vp in store for winters night:
And thus they worke like waspes, not hony bees,
From Phœbus rise, till Cynthia shewes her sight.
Funerals.
To funerals when they are charg'd to go,This wanton flocke is readie at command,
And there they march along two in a row,
With each a burning taper in his hand.
What sort of creatures may we deeme this kind,
Who sing for ioy, when all the rest so weepe?
When others sigh, they haue content of mind,
And for their gaine, still wish moe thus to sleepe.
Their Supper.
When this is done, to Cloyster they returne,There stay a while, till suppers on the boord,
10
And eu'ry gallerie with lampes decor'd,
They make good cheare, & drink good beere & wine
Of diuerse sorts, the best the countrey yeelds.
Which done, the elder to their nests incline,
The younger faine a walking to the fields:
But when o'recome with heauie sleepe and wine,
Their holie fathers slumber out the night,
The Yongsters and the Sisters so diuine,
Haue secret meetings for their youths delight.
The Nuns.
The holy Nuns, like Danae in her Tower,With hundred doores and barres are shut vp fast,
Garded with Beldames, yet there comes a showre
Of lustie gallants scales the fort at last.
Some much haue wondred, and indeed they may,
How Cloystred virgins, from the world exil'd,
Who neuer ceasse, nor day nor night to pray,
Should with the wind, conceiue and haue a child:
Whereof a sacred seed doth spring (no doubt)
And ouerflowes earths spacious face we see:
For from the vaults of Cloysters there comes out
A race most rare, conceiu'd most wondrously.
The Authors farewell to all the Orders.
Now fare you well, with all your seuerall sects,Who thus abound in all prosperitie:
You are the Saints, whom euery man respects,
And honours most throughout all Italie.
11
As from the Delphian Oracle of old,
And gladly your responses do receiue,
Trusting as truth it selfe what you haue told.
Your care is all in Cloysters close to lie,
And keepe the Saints from all corruption sure,
When we in armes (I do you not enuie)
Must watch all night, that you may sleepe secure.
Would I were but the meanest of your traine,
To keepe your gate, or sweepe your sacred floores,
Where I in safetie henceforth might remaine,
Within the compasse of your walles and doores.
Most happie, ye, the sonnes of mightie Ioue,
Who liue in mirth, while other men do mourne,
We must be gone, where raging Mars doth roue,
Whose eyes shoote lightning, all the world to burne:
So great dissention rises euery day,
Among the Kings and Princes of this age,
That Europe quakes in this most fearefull fray,
To see the terror of Bellonas rage.
The misbeleeuing sonne of Gog Magog,
With troupes past number boasts to tread vs downe,
And all the followers of that faithlesse dog,
Vow to o're runne vs with their horned moone:
But you his awfull threats do neuer feare,
Not are you mou'd, but liue at quiet ease,
And bid your Nuns sleep sound, & make good cheare
With open gates, at midnight if they please.
O blest are you, how euer matters go
Throughout the world, your wealth and honors last,
Your worthie praises I will euer show,
And sing your orders equall to the best.
12
An addition by the Translator.
There is a monster strange begot of late,Betwixt a begging Frier and a Nun,
Whose subtiltie hath troubled Europes state,
And sowing iarres, all Princes hath vndone.
His shaueling followers do him deifie,
As he were God, and Lord of sea and land:
For he (but stay there) most impetuously,
For supreme power and highest seate doth stand.
Of this vile stocke a filthy race is sprong,
Which ouer-rules the land of Italy,
And in new Rome hath sway'd the Scepter long,
By witchcraft, incest, and foule Sodomie.
Some call him Pope, some father of the Saints,
Some say he is Christs Vicar, left behind:
The knaue himselfe most arrogantly vaunts,
That he in heauen can loose, in hell can bind.
Such is the power he hath the world throughout,
With triple crowne when he in chaire doth sit,
Kings, Emperours, and great Monarkes all about,
Most humbly come, to kisse his foote, as fit.
This monster now in Europe doth command,
And to the Inds his putent power's extended,
So that no King, nor Prince dare once withstand
The torrent of his wrath when he's offended,
This Prelates pride I cannot all declare,
Nor gorgeous pompe, which daily doth increase
With Cardinals, who Kings companions are,
Whom to enrich, poore Princes states decrease.
When hels great Monarch ended hath his life,
The Cardinals conuent to chuse another,
13
Which to appease, they take some Frier brother.
This done, they carrie him through all the Towne,
High mounted on Priests shoulders magnifi'd,
Then in a chaire vnbottom'd set him downe,
Where his humanitie is search'd and tride,
Because an English wench them once beguild,
Who in disguise vnto the Popedome came,
And with a Frier the holy See defil'd:
Hauing a child to Romes eternall shame.
On solemne dayes, when he his Masse would make,
Two Cardinals do carrie vp his traine,
The multitude attends him at the backe,
Till he be set in state, they throng amaine,
And while in pompe he sitteth in his chaire,
They bring him wine and consecrated bread:
Such is, his pride, he will not do it bare,
Lest some mischance befall his mitred head.
Many strange tricks this hell-hound he deuises,
Setting his neighbours all at great debate.
To warre and Armes all Princes he entices,
That he may liue in a more quiet state,
If any Prince this demidiuell offend,
Or wrong his seruants in the lightest sort,
Incontinent his bloud-hounds he will send,
Friers disguis'd, and make his life pay for't.
And then giue pardon to the murderer,
And as a Saint him canonise, as right:
Men must adore the bloudie furtherer
Of his damn'd plots, which euen his soule delight.
What shall we say, but pray the God of peace,
Soone to confound this Antichrist of Rome,
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Against th'annointed, till he get his doome,
To go to hell with all his companie,
There to remaine in that abhorred place,
And suffer tortures euerlastingly,
Without all future hope of after grace.
15
CERTAINE VERSES TAKEN OVT OF THE EPISTLES of Francis Petrarch, Archdeacon of Parma,
which were sine titulo, written to his friend whom he might not name for feare of the Romane Clergie.
My friend, you craue to vnderstandNew Romes estate in this our Land:
My pen cannot such skill obtaine,
Nor Cicero, if liue againe,
Of that great Court t'expresse the glory
Vnparallel'd by any storie.
For, what you ere haue read of old,
Or by report hath bene you told,
Of Babylon that Towre of pride,
Where the Caldeans did abide,
Or of the vncouth Labyrinthes foure,
Possessed by the Minotaure,
Or of Auernus filthie floud,
Or of the Lake where Sodome stood,
Compar'd with this, they are but fables,
Reported by some fooles at tables,
Here is blaspheming Nimrod seene,
Here is Semyramis the Queene:
Here Minos sits as Iudge most fell,
And Radamantus scourge of hell:
Foule Cerberus the gate doth keepe,
16
Whereof proceeds a monstrous race,
Where Minotaurus keepes the place.
So to be short, in former time,
What Poets haue set forth in ryme,
Of monsters which before came out,
In it are seene to go about.
Thy vertue brought thee to renowne,
Most happie thou that left'st the Towne.
If you suppose the Citie be
In the same forme you did it see,
You are deceiu'd much in that case,
Although it stands in that same place.
Of old it did abound with euils,
But now it is a den of diuels,
A sinke of sinne, a gulfe of paine,
For those that still in it remaine.
Ceasse to admire, when as I call
This Babylon the chiefe of all:
Where can that Tower be placed best,
But in the quarters of the West,
Inhabited as we now see,
By people full of villanie?
Beleeue me well, here in it dwels
A Tyrant who in pride excels,
More cruell then Cambyses King,
Or the great Turke, whose wrath doth ring.
Here are strange labrinthes in great store,
Mens soules in darknesse to deflore.
Here Venus with her wanton toyes,
Is honour'd with base bauds and boyes:
Adultrie, whoredome and incest,
17
And counted but for sports and playes,
Euen with our Prelats of these dayes.
The wife is rauish'd from her spouse,
And to the Papall seate she bowes.
The poore good man must leaue the Towne,
Such ordinances are set downe:
And when her bellie riseth hié,
By Cardinals who with her lye,
The husband must not dare complaine,
But take his wife with child againe.
All vertue is trod vnder foote,
And out of doores all truth is shut:
Where one mans fauour is so sought,
And with such flatterie dearely bought:
Where bad men are esteemed best,
And the poore iust man sore opprest:
The God of heauen is chac't away,
And gold and siluer beare the sway.
Gold is the salue for euery sore,
It makes pròud kings to bragge no more.
By gold heau'n gates are open set,
And who giues most, doth pardon get.
Euen Christ himselfe for gold is sold,
And miracles wrought manifold.
Came Iudas to this Court most trimme,
Bringing his thirtie pence with him,
He'le be more welcome by Saint Steuen,
Then all the Saints that are in heauen.
The Church of Christ, which was the place
From whence did flow all health and grace,
To tell the truth my heart it grieues,
18
Our Epicures with ducking nods,
Do mocke Religion, scorne the Gods.
Of heauenly ioyes when they heare tell,
And of the paines that are in hell,
They thinke it but a merrie iest,
Deuised by some idle Priest.
The resurrection of the dead,
And to be iudg'd by Christ our head,
They hold them but as fained visions,
Dreames of old wiues or apparitions.
If God of heauen do not preuent
The perils which are imminent,
His house shall be in danger brought,
And all his worship turnd to nought:
I plainly see, I dare not say,
What trechrous meanes and subtill way,
This Dionysius hath in heart,
Our Syracusa to subuert:
And what a miter made of lead,
Semyramis puts on her head,
For to enchant her louers so,
That to her vile embrácements go.
Whereby all men of honest hearts,
Are fled and banisht from these parts.
The Romans vsed of old t'eschue
Such places where most pleasure grew:
So bent they were in all degree,
To traine their youth vp vertuouslie.
Since so it is, who will not then
Flie farre from Babylon, that den,
Where mischiefe and all infamie
19
I speake of things seene with mine eyes,
Not heard by eares, nor tales, nor lyes.
Thus farre I briefly haue set downe,
The Court of Rome, state of our Towne,
To you my friend, though not so plaine,
As by mens liues that heare remaine
You might discerne and plainly see
The whole abuse of this Citie.
Wherefore in end I you exhort,
Take this for truth which I report;
If of thy soule thou hast a care,
Let not thy mind thinke to come there
Where neuer man could learne or see
True vertue no nor pietie.
FINIS.
20
EPITAPHES AND EPIGRAMS of Popes, Monkes, and Friers, translated out of diuerse Authours.
THE EPITAPH OF POPE CLEMENT the seuenth, fixed on his tombe at Rome.
The fatall sisters now you see,Haue taken from this life
Pope Clement who by periurie,
Was authour of great strife.
Therefore reioyce all liuing wights,
For this was eu'n the man
Who did deceiue the Towne by sleights,
And all the world o'reran.
This was the man no word could keepe,
To Princes nor to Kings,
Although he had sworne ner'e so deepe,
And promised great things.
This was the man who vex'd the Land
With taxes, tributes sore,
And gathered vp with greedie hand
The Countrie goods in store.
This was the man who ran about,
And rag'd with warre and bloud,
Putting his owne estate in doubt,
to gaine vncertaine good.
This was the man who would not spare
21
If that by murdering here and there,
He might haue his desire.
This was the man that spoil'd the Towne,
And many widdowes made,
By shedding bloud both vp and downe,
Of those that in it stayed.
This was the man with sword that chac't
The Duke of Vrbin so,
And tooke his house, and lands defac'd,
And made him hence to go.
This was the man without all cause,
O Rome that brought to thee,
Both sword and plague, and cruell lawes,
Such was his courtesie.
This was the man that fostred bauds,
And brothels first set downe:
Who brought in boyes and handsome lads,
A filthie thing in Towne.
Euen this was he who in his life,
Into the world brought shame,
And euery yeare did stirre vp strife,
With ignominious name.
Scorned was God by this vile Lowne,
Who had nor faith nor troth:
All pollicie he wrested downe,
And did all goodnesse loath.
Whiles he did liue all things were deare
throughout all Italie:
Yet for all that he would not heare
The peoples miserie.
The famine that in Rome was then,
22
And seemed pleasd (vnhappie man)
With his owne subiects paine.
Infortunate he thought himselfe,
That he could not destroy
The world, and scrape all worldly pelfe,
Which was his chiefest ioy.
Thus liuing in a tedious life,
By sicknesse sore agast,
He lay with the Physitians strife
To helpe his dayes to last.
Oft times he wished death to see:
The destinies said no:
They tooke delight most cruelly
More to torment him so.
For his reward he knew, in hell
A thousand stripes to get:
What he did merit to him fell,
Like end a like life met.
At last the Tyrant left this light,
Now Citizens go cast
His filthie carkasse out of sight,
Let Rauens deuour't at last.
Be blith, the happie day is seene,
Long wished for before:
Make sports and plaies both morne and euen,
And sorrow now no more.
Let this be counted as a day
most holy euery yeare,
That your posteritie may say,
Now we may no more feare.
As Kings were banished of old,
23
So now we shall no more behold
This cruell Neroes face.
FINIS.
The Epitaph of Alexander the third, by Sanazer.
Stay passenger a space, thy wearied limbes to ease,Perhaps thou know'st not who lies here intomb'd, stay if you please:
Tis not great Philips sonne, that all the world subdu'd,
But Alexander filthie Pope, in bloudshed all embru'd.
Great Kingdomes he o'rethrew, and Cities turn'd to nought,
All to aduance his bastard brood, a world of mischiefe brought.
This Land with fire and sword he vtterly destroid:
And to subuert Gods Lawes and mans, his care he all employ'd:
That he more freely might (ô filthie to be told)
Incestuously enioy the child his lust begot of old.
Yet he for all this sate & rul'd proudly the papall Sea
Eleu'n yeares, as great Pope and head in sole supremacie.
Speake not of cruell Kings, old tyrants do not name,
Caligula came short of him, and Heliogablus shame.
The rest for modestie I cannot well declare,
Suppose the worst, set on thy way, I wish thee well to fare.
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The Epitaph of Paule the fourth.
Here lyes vnhappie Carrafa, abhor'd of God and man,His soule I feare to hell, his corps to graue fast ranne.
No peace on earth he could abide, no honour done to God:
The people and the Cleargie both, he vext at home, abroad.
To enemies he yeelded soon, his friends helou'd in iest
What would ye more? he was a Pope as false as all the rest.
Epitaph of Pius the second.
Here do the bones of talking Pius lye,Who by his death brought peace to Italie:
Nations he sold, and many crymes vnfit,
He vnder shew of vertue did commit.
Io. Sapidus in Sixtum.
Here Sixtus lyes, the bauds lament his fall,Whores, dice, and wine, haue lost a father all.
Epitaph of Lucrece Pontanus.
Lvcrece by name, Thais indeed, lyes vnderneath this stone,Pope Alexanders daughter faire, his sonnes wife, and his owne.
Epitaph of Pius the fifth.
Pius the fifth is dead, how wondrous ist to heare?That onely fiue 'mongst such a crue, th'Almightie God did feare?
EPIGRAMES.
Mantuanus of Sixtus 4. in hell.
Bald pated rascall thou, who liued'st onelyTo surfet in thy filthie lecherie,
Thinkst thou thy myter can thy doings couer,
Or make vs now to be theirs or thy louer?
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Pope Ioane being with child coniuring the diuell had this answer.
Thou mother of Popes bring forth this popish birth,And then Ile freely tell thee, when Ile come forth on earth.
Marullus in Innoc. 8.
What need this toyle, to trie this Pope a man,Behold his of-spring clearely if ye can:
Eight sonnes, as many daughters he begat,
Rome needs not doubt, his sect wer't but for that.
Pontanus of Alexander 6.
Pope Alexander sold the Altars, Christ and crosses,Why not, he bought them all before; t'was to make vp his losses.
Albericus de Rosata.
The Court of Rome, disdaines a sheepe without the skin,All they that bring are welcome guests, who bring nought come not in.
Conradus Grebelius of Iulius 2.
Can he be good, that was sonne to a Genoweys,Begot vpon a Grecian dame, and borne i'th raging seas?
Ligurians are all false, Greeks all men liers call,
The Seas inconstant: Iulio, in thee we see them all.
Pasquillus.
VVith bauds and whores Pope Iulius & Sextus both were led,And Leo with foule Sodomies desil'd his loathed bed.
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What hope of any good in thee? Paul shall with vs remaine.
Mantuanus of the Citie.
If thou wouldst liue a godly life, from Rome flie farre away,All villany in it is vsed, here goodnesse hath no sway.
Nothing is here now to be found, but fained lies and mockes,
For which they daily bring in gold, to fill the Churches boxe.
Vertue is banisht frō this Towne, all honestie is gone:
And wickednesse and vices now possesse the Romane throne.
Pasquillus of Paule 4.
What furie moues thee to take armes, in thy declining yeares?Old Carrafa thou'rt aged now, & age is full of feares.
The campe thou dost not know so well, as Cloysters exercise,
Thou wantst the nerues of warre, that's gold, to make the souldiers rise.
Why putst thou on thy head and backe, such heauie armes as those
Which thy weake bodie cannot beare, being vsde to better clothes?
Why troublest thou this wofull land, with wounds yet groning sore?
And dost appall the God of warre, to proue his valor more?
Giue rest we pray thee to thy flockes, and let vs liue in peace,
Our holy father if thou be, and from thy battels ceasse.
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Which he vnto Saint Peter spake, when he did vse his sword.
The Popes answer.
The words which Christ to Peter spoke, are no wayes said to me,You do mistake (by Peters leaue) you are deceiu'd, I see
For why, I no way do succeed to Peter in that case,
As many in the world haue thought, since I vsurpt his place.
The name of Paul I haue tane on, his armour with his name,
And follow him in euery thing, ere his cōuersiō came.
Christs words I do remember well, to me they nothing are,
I came into the world in peace, but for to stir vp war.
Gilberti Ducerij Epigram de Iul. 2.
When holy Iulius to the field did go,Against the Gaules, as old reports do show:
Each day the Citie sounding loud alarmes,
He mustred forth great troupes in glistring armes,
And in a rage before the peoples eyes,
In Tibers streames did throw the holy keyes:
Then pulling out his sword, he madly sayes,
Against the French my foes, since now adayes
Saint Peters keyes cannot secure my state,
Pauls sword all controuersies shall debate.
Io. Pannomus.
Once in thy Church, S. Peter, as we reade,A woman rul'd, and did possesse thy chaire,
Vntill a Frier her holinesse did leade
Into the Conclaue to the euening prayer:
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All are not Saints that outwardly seeme holy,
She in the sport did ioy beyond all measure,
Till time made vp the fruites of louing follie.
Then what a griefe procur'd the great disgrace,
To all who thought her father of the Saints?
She shamefully was hurled from the place,
And euer since Romes policie preuents
The like mishap; they now the Pope do place
In a rich chaire, hollow and bottomlesse,
Where priuately (to shun future disgrace)
By natures marks his manhood they expresse.
But some to cleare the doubt and shun suspects,
Before they come to climbe the Papall throne,
Giue full assurance of their manly sexe,
And make themselues first father of a sonne.
Cordus lib. 2. Epigram in Iul. 2.
VVhen Iulius ended here this mortall life,To heauē (tis said he went) but came too late,
Two keyes he had, with which he kept a strife,
To trie if those could ope the sacred gate:
But all in vaine, the locke did it withstand,
Nor would acknowledge his supremacie.
Saint Peter hearing him, came to demand
What sinfull mortall knockt so saucily.
The Pope said, Peter, knowest thou not my name?
Looke on my crowne and slippers all of gold.
Begone sayes Peter, you are much too blame,
To claime a title in the thing you sold.
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Stigelius in Sylua.
A monke there was who in a night did beare,By Moone-shine light a Leman to his bed,
Vnder his gowne, and no suspect did feare,
He thought she was so closely couered.
By chance a Frier meets him in the way,
Whose iealous eyes discries the wenches feete,
He to the Monke in merrinesse did say,
What load is that which makes you so to sweat?
He answers, tis a saddle I did borrow,
From one of my acquaintance dwels hard by,
For I must ride a little way to morrow,
Of some reports the certaintie to trie.
The Frier hearing what a fine excuse
The youth had forg'd, streight replies againe,
A little of my counsell prethie vse
Before thou go'st, it shall not be in vaine.
Let no man see what carriage you haue there,
Nor know what furniture you do prouide,
Lest some of your companions do prepare
Themselues with you vpon your mare to ride.
Cordus lib. 6. Epigram.
Sixe Monkes together sitting on a draught,Began to thinke vpon their miseries,
And how the world at all their Orders laught,
Scoffing their persons, slighting their Decrees.
Mong'st whom was one that seem'd to rule the rest,
An aged father, whose old ioynts did shake,
He from the bottome of his grieued breast,
Fetching a sigh, thus to his brethren spake.
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And for a time their shepheards do forsake,
Yet let vs neuer ceasse to God to pray,
That he some pittie of our state may take.
For since the Lord doth see his seruants wrong,
And will prouide to keepe them free from hurt,
Heele take vs vp to heauen e're it be long,
And drowne the heretickes into this durt.
This hauing said, the boords began to cracke,
The rotten floares fall from the walls and staires,
The Monks all tumbling downe lie on their backs,
And striue in vaine, so heauen had heard their prayers.
Cordus lib. 6. Epigram.
A countrie wench confessing once her sins,In time of Lent vnto a Cordelier,
And from a long concealed thought begins,
To speake, but hardly could she speake for feare:
He still exhorted her for to discouer
The secret secrecie of all her thought,
Affirming plainly, if she stroue to smother
The least offence, it would to light be brought.
The wench amazd, at last begins to say,
Last night, good Sir, at midnight I espi'd
One of your brothers as asleepe he lay,
A bed stretcht close downe by my mistris side.
The Frier mad to heare her speake so plaine,
Sayes, filthy hypocrite, dar'st thou this say,
Thy mistris reputation thus to staine,
It was S. Francis t' whom she then did pray,
He that makes all our suits in heauen go right,
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Who heares our cries by day, and sighes by night,
T'was he that in my brothers habit came.
The wench replied, then be what Saint he will,
He left his hose behind him in the place:
If Saints of heauen weare clothes, I haue no skill,
I'm but an ignorant in such a case.
Take heed (the Frier saies) thou do not touch
Those holy things, which relickes we do call,
And do pertaine but onely vnto such
As are confirmed in the Orders all.
To morrow to the Church they shall be carried,
As sacred relickes still to be adored,
By all such fruitlesse women as be married,
And haue no issue, then they shall be stored.
FINIS.
The Translators farewell to those of the Church of Rome.
Thus in the rudenesse of our vulgar phrase,My rurall Muse these lines hath harshly sung:
Neither for enuie, gaine, nor hope of praise,
As some perhaps may thinke, who do me wrong.
For I protest my heart was euer free,
I malice no man nor affect no name,
The heauens that know my thoughts my witnesse be,
I neuer hunted so much after fame.
What herein I haue said, was said before,
By those who members of your Church did liue,
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Their worth, and due respects vnto them giue.
There's nothing here which you can say I picke
From our the railing libels (as you stile them)
Or poysoned writings of an hereticke,
Whom you so hate, and furiously reuile them.
Then gently pardon, all that I haue done
Your Churches dearest nurslings haue approued,
Whose eyes enlightened by the miest Sunne,
Oft wisht those clouds of errours were remoued.
And that the Church, all darknesse swept away,
At length, though late, might clearely see the day.
FINIS.
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