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THE MAN IS BUT HIS MINDE
A VVARNING TO THE VVANDERERS abroad, that seekes to sovv dissention at home.
To the Right worshipful my singular good friend, Sir Iohn Skidmoer, one of the Liefetenants of Haruordshire
Mine
eyes they weepe, my heart it bleedes in brest,
My soule doth sob, my body quakes for feare:
My fancies roule, my minde can take no rest,
My sences blush, as sprites amazed were,
My knowledge shrugges, at rumors in myne eare.
My head doth muse, my reason sore doth rewe:
These quarrels old, that rise on brabblings new.
These bold attempts, that Rebells set abroach,
To Gods dislike, and Countries great reproach.
My soule doth sob, my body quakes for feare:
My fancies roule, my minde can take no rest,
My sences blush, as sprites amazed were,
My knowledge shrugges, at rumors in myne eare.
My head doth muse, my reason sore doth rewe:
These quarrels old, that rise on brabblings new.
These bold attempts, that Rebells set abroach,
To Gods dislike, and Countries great reproach.
The rotten seames, that in faire garments are,
Bee not espide, by sodaine view of eye.
The spoyling moath, that eates gay scarlet bare,
In foldes of cloath, full long doth closely lie.
Time is the touch, that trecherous trashe doth trie,
Foule cankred flesh, by Surgeons arte is found,
And heald sometimes, by searching of the wound.
Worlds sicknesse must, with wisdome well be vsde,
That Doctors may, see how was health abusde.
Bee not espide, by sodaine view of eye.
The spoyling moath, that eates gay scarlet bare,
In foldes of cloath, full long doth closely lie.
Time is the touch, that trecherous trashe doth trie,
Foule cankred flesh, by Surgeons arte is found,
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Worlds sicknesse must, with wisdome well be vsde,
That Doctors may, see how was health abusde.
For taynted fruit, that is not sound at coare,
Smooth skin doth shew, like apple ripe and good:
A playster faire, may hide a filthy soare,
The painted face, sets foorth no perfect blood.
By proofe the best, from worst is vnderstood.
Faire shews but bleares, the iudgement for a while,
And colours can, not knowledge long begile.
Though salt be white, the sugars taste is sweete,
And gall doth bite, when honey comforts spreete.
Smooth skin doth shew, like apple ripe and good:
A playster faire, may hide a filthy soare,
The painted face, sets foorth no perfect blood.
By proofe the best, from worst is vnderstood.
Faire shews but bleares, the iudgement for a while,
And colours can, not knowledge long begile.
Though salt be white, the sugars taste is sweete,
And gall doth bite, when honey comforts spreete.
Most bitter sowre, doth foule Rebellion taste,
It breedes on hate, that heart hath harborde long,
And wicked will, that wisheth woe and waste:
Whose raging mind, delights in open wrong,
Stout stomake first, with snakish stinging tongue
Stirres vp the strife, and blowes the blast abroad:
Then malice comes, and lookes like swelling toad,
And venom casts, where mischiefe may be wrought,
From mother spite, so monster foorth is brought.
It breedes on hate, that heart hath harborde long,
And wicked will, that wisheth woe and waste:
Whose raging mind, delights in open wrong,
Stout stomake first, with snakish stinging tongue
Stirres vp the strife, and blowes the blast abroad:
Then malice comes, and lookes like swelling toad,
And venom casts, where mischiefe may be wrought,
From mother spite, so monster foorth is brought.
Rebellion is, the monster that I meane,
A serpent vile, that liues in stinking denne:
A grieslie ghost, a gracelesse sprite vncleane,
That lurketh close, in shapes of vainest men.
When it is bredde, beholde, what does it then?
It sowes discord, and fostreth vp dislike,
Makes sharpe the sword, that ready is to strike.
Lies listning still, for newes and change of state,
And cares not how it bringeth in debate.
A serpent vile, that liues in stinking denne:
A grieslie ghost, a gracelesse sprite vncleane,
That lurketh close, in shapes of vainest men.
When it is bredde, beholde, what does it then?
It sowes discord, and fostreth vp dislike,
Makes sharpe the sword, that ready is to strike.
Lies listning still, for newes and change of state,
And cares not how it bringeth in debate.
A Turke or Iew, a Pagan or a dog,
A fiend of Hell, or else a sprite of the aire:
A ventrous ladde, that all can set a gog.
A pratling boy, that fawnes and speaks full faire.
When Rebell falles, in rage of rude dispaire.
Rebellion brings: so hee reuenge may take,
The Deuill himselfe, it will a Captaine make.
Rebellion lookes, but how may blood bee shed,
And so vilde mindes, in mischiefe runnes on head.
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A ventrous ladde, that all can set a gog.
A pratling boy, that fawnes and speaks full faire.
When Rebell falles, in rage of rude dispaire.
Rebellion brings: so hee reuenge may take,
The Deuill himselfe, it will a Captaine make.
Rebellion lookes, but how may blood bee shed,
And so vilde mindes, in mischiefe runnes on head.
Rebellion springes, of too much head and will,
That riot runnes, without rebuke too farre,
In suffring harmes, great wronges are offred still.
On little broyles, beginnes a bloody warre,
The willfull man, doth eyther make or marre:
The harebraine head, a witlesse course holdes on,
Till feare of God, and wordly care be gon:
All hope is past, runne dogge or Deuill than,
No reason serues, to rule the retchlesse man.
That riot runnes, without rebuke too farre,
In suffring harmes, great wronges are offred still.
On little broyles, beginnes a bloody warre,
The willfull man, doth eyther make or marre:
The harebraine head, a witlesse course holdes on,
Till feare of God, and wordly care be gon:
All hope is past, runne dogge or Deuill than,
No reason serues, to rule the retchlesse man.
But what foule shame, brings men to this lewd mind?
What bold abuse is this, that breedes such bale?
What vile deuice, drawes nature out of kind?
What marres good wits? what makes men pull and hale,
To seeke for death and sets their liues to sale?
Ist will alone? fie on that wayward hart,
That for a toy, makes all the bodie smart:
Fie on that tricke, that turnes all out of frame.
Runnes farre a field, and bringes home open shame.
What bold abuse is this, that breedes such bale?
What vile deuice, drawes nature out of kind?
What marres good wits? what makes men pull and hale,
To seeke for death and sets their liues to sale?
Ist will alone? fie on that wayward hart,
That for a toy, makes all the bodie smart:
Fie on that tricke, that turnes all out of frame.
Runnes farre a field, and bringes home open shame.
Wee see so long, as house together standes,
From raine and stormes, both man and wife doe sit,
So long as horse, remaines in riders hands
Hee keepes his pace, and playes vppon the bitte.
So long as men, be rulde by temprate witte
Draw all one yoake, take part as brethren ought:
So long, you know, they neede not take no thought,
But when they iarre, and seuerall waies they goe,
They drawe too farre, and breake true friendships bow.
From raine and stormes, both man and wife doe sit,
So long as horse, remaines in riders hands
Hee keepes his pace, and playes vppon the bitte.
So long as men, be rulde by temprate witte
Draw all one yoake, take part as brethren ought:
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But when they iarre, and seuerall waies they goe,
They drawe too farre, and breake true friendships bow.
Come home wilde heades, then gad no more abroad,
To breede debate, that workes your Countries wracke,
Lay vp your shippes, and barques in quiet road:
Cast ankor there, where cable cannot cracke,
Runne not to Rhemes, to learne a cumbrous knacke,
That smels of smoake and sauors of discord.
Obay your Prince, and so yee serue the Lord.
To duties bounds, reclaime your selues againe:
Against the streame, who striues doe lose their payne.
To breede debate, that workes your Countries wracke,
Lay vp your shippes, and barques in quiet road:
Cast ankor there, where cable cannot cracke,
Runne not to Rhemes, to learne a cumbrous knacke,
That smels of smoake and sauors of discord.
Obay your Prince, and so yee serue the Lord.
To duties bounds, reclaime your selues againe:
Against the streame, who striues doe lose their payne.
Make Pope your head, the Prince yee do forsake
Obedience bids, a subiect leaue dispute:
Indeede you doe, the scripture cleane mistake,
If that your tree, doe shew no better fruite.
(But bring foorth brawles, and raiseth slaunders brute)
Say what you please, your conscience is not cleane:
Where dutie wants, men doe some mischiefe meane.
And such as speakes, against the Prince, and Law,
Intends no good, but flingeth fire in straw.
Obedience bids, a subiect leaue dispute:
Indeede you doe, the scripture cleane mistake,
If that your tree, doe shew no better fruite.
(But bring foorth brawles, and raiseth slaunders brute)
Say what you please, your conscience is not cleane:
Where dutie wants, men doe some mischiefe meane.
And such as speakes, against the Prince, and Law,
Intends no good, but flingeth fire in straw.
And when house burnes, and flame beginnes to gloe,
Your fingers endes, shall surely singed bee:
You smell on smoake as you the bellowes blowe:
Then put out fire, where rotten wood you see,
Cleare sight cannot, with smothering smoake agree.
Good men are harmde, with wicked bad deuise,
Of naughtie ware, you know full well the price.
Make darke your shoppes, to bleare the buyers eye,
When all is seene, the light each thing shall trie.
Your fingers endes, shall surely singed bee:
You smell on smoake as you the bellowes blowe:
Then put out fire, where rotten wood you see,
Cleare sight cannot, with smothering smoake agree.
Good men are harmde, with wicked bad deuise,
Of naughtie ware, you know full well the price.
Make darke your shoppes, to bleare the buyers eye,
When all is seene, the light each thing shall trie.
If you doe wrong, to Prince and publike state,
Your conscience shall, accuse you in the end:
If legges and feete, beginne the head to hate,
Sicke are the lims, that should the head defend,
The bodie weake, by medson may amend.
Wherefore doe fall, to phisicke for your greefe.
From candle cleare, bee sure yee take the theefe:
For if in snuffe, bee crept a little cole,
Through weeke and all, is worne a curelesse hole.
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If legges and feete, beginne the head to hate,
Sicke are the lims, that should the head defend,
The bodie weake, by medson may amend.
Wherefore doe fall, to phisicke for your greefe.
From candle cleare, bee sure yee take the theefe:
For if in snuffe, bee crept a little cole,
Through weeke and all, is worne a curelesse hole.
And sothe light, that glad the lookers on,
God wot is spoyld, before his kindely houre:
When oyle, or waxe, or tallow cleane is gone,
The lamp or light, to burne hath little powre:
You would plant weedes, where growes a goodly floure.
Let practise goe, and play a subiects parte:
Playne troath yee knowe, bids fie on cunning arte.
One God, one law, one mind and manner now,
In double world, shews subiects duties throwe.
God wot is spoyld, before his kindely houre:
When oyle, or waxe, or tallow cleane is gone,
The lamp or light, to burne hath little powre:
You would plant weedes, where growes a goodly floure.
Let practise goe, and play a subiects parte:
Playne troath yee knowe, bids fie on cunning arte.
One God, one law, one mind and manner now,
In double world, shews subiects duties throwe.
All other drifts, doe draw the wyer awrie,
And backward bends, the bow that should bee streight:
Come neere no cloudes, the reach is ouer hie.
Liue safely then, no suretie comes by sleight:
Content below, doth hate to climbe on height.
Who knows his owne, hath wealth and wit ynough:
Hee soundly sleepes, that only lookes to plough.
And such as wakes, to ouerlooke this age,
May sing adew, when foote is fast in cage.
And backward bends, the bow that should bee streight:
Come neere no cloudes, the reach is ouer hie.
Liue safely then, no suretie comes by sleight:
Content below, doth hate to climbe on height.
Who knows his owne, hath wealth and wit ynough:
Hee soundly sleepes, that only lookes to plough.
And such as wakes, to ouerlooke this age,
May sing adew, when foote is fast in cage.
O Countrey sweete, perswade obedience heere,
Reforme the fond, and still preserue the wise:
No plot of earth, more precious nor more deere
Than natiue soyle, that for her children cries
And calls for chicks, where kites and puttocks flies,
O Babes well borne, if you will bastards proue
Bid welcome hate, and farewell Countries loue:
And this be sure, my friends goe where you please,
No goodnes growes, by gadding ore the seas.
Reforme the fond, and still preserue the wise:
No plot of earth, more precious nor more deere
Than natiue soyle, that for her children cries
And calls for chicks, where kites and puttocks flies,
O Babes well borne, if you will bastards proue
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And this be sure, my friends goe where you please,
No goodnes growes, by gadding ore the seas.
Note where you tooke, both breath, warme blood and life,
Your parents care, and Countries right do waie:
Regarde what broyles, and brawles beginne on strife,
Marke how stout hartes, stand all on tickle staie:
And birdes of th' aire, your follie doe bewraie,
And marke how God, hath opened all your drifts,
And in your pride, hath put you to your shifts.
And chiefely note, how God and man doth knowe,
For want of grace, wilde heades a gadding goe.
Your parents care, and Countries right do waie:
Regarde what broyles, and brawles beginne on strife,
Marke how stout hartes, stand all on tickle staie:
And birdes of th' aire, your follie doe bewraie,
And marke how God, hath opened all your drifts,
And in your pride, hath put you to your shifts.
And chiefely note, how God and man doth knowe,
For want of grace, wilde heades a gadding goe.
Religion Lord, perhaps shall bee your shield,
Nay there a straw, you meane an other thing:
You are so great, you would faine march in fielde,
That world should iudge, you feathers of one wing.
So busie birdes, together all would sing.
Well waking Cockes, yee crow for daie too soone:
Yee neither looke, on starres, ne sunne, nor moone,
But clapping wings, yee thrust out necke and throat,
And cares not who, doth heare your midnight noate.
Nay there a straw, you meane an other thing:
You are so great, you would faine march in fielde,
That world should iudge, you feathers of one wing.
So busie birdes, together all would sing.
Well waking Cockes, yee crow for daie too soone:
Yee neither looke, on starres, ne sunne, nor moone,
But clapping wings, yee thrust out necke and throat,
And cares not who, doth heare your midnight noate.
That sounds not right, of no Religion sure.
Rebellion is, the string you play vppon:
O God forbid, that hauke forsooke the lure
To feede on frog, that sits one euery stone.
I say not much, would God abuse were gone,
Rebellion dead, and all her branches bare,
Faythlesse were fled, and Countrey voyd of care,
But since strange toyes, breeds humming Bees in braine.
I meane to touch, rebellion once againe.
Rebellion is, the string you play vppon:
O God forbid, that hauke forsooke the lure
To feede on frog, that sits one euery stone.
I say not much, would God abuse were gone,
Rebellion dead, and all her branches bare,
Faythlesse were fled, and Countrey voyd of care,
But since strange toyes, breeds humming Bees in braine.
I meane to touch, rebellion once againe.
When mother spight, to world this monster brings.
A naughtie nourse, vile nature then prepares:
Who cradle rockes and lullabie she singes,
Till retchlesse sence, be brought a sleepe vnwares,
Then as in corne, do creepe wild weeds and tares:
So cockle seede, in common wealth is sowne,
Whereby good graine, is quicklie ouergrowne.
The cause thereof, is cunning craftie wittes,
That still workes woe, and neuer idle sits.
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Who cradle rockes and lullabie she singes,
Till retchlesse sence, be brought a sleepe vnwares,
Then as in corne, do creepe wild weeds and tares:
So cockle seede, in common wealth is sowne,
Whereby good graine, is quicklie ouergrowne.
The cause thereof, is cunning craftie wittes,
That still workes woe, and neuer idle sits.
O wretched rage, that riues and rents a Realme
In peeces small, and gaines nothing thereby:
O labour lost, that striues with flood and streame,
And dayly hopes, to drinke great riuers drie,
O cruell plague that, doe for vengeaunce crie.
O priue hate, that open mischiefe breedes,
O shameles sleight, that honest people dreedes:
Accurst I hold, rebellion is of kinde,
That neuer dies, but liues in cankred minde.
In peeces small, and gaines nothing thereby:
O labour lost, that striues with flood and streame,
And dayly hopes, to drinke great riuers drie,
O cruell plague that, doe for vengeaunce crie.
O priue hate, that open mischiefe breedes,
O shameles sleight, that honest people dreedes:
Accurst I hold, rebellion is of kinde,
That neuer dies, but liues in cankred minde.
The Countries weale, and Princes honor both
It cleane forgets, and spoyle and hauocke cries,
Takes no regard, to dutie, faith, or oath,
But claps on wood, where fire and flame may rise,
Tels tatling tales, shewes furious angry eies,
Makes brags and boast that all shall lie in dust,
And hath no hope, but treason is his trust:
The wife, the child, the friend and neighbour toe
Rebellion hates, for hee will mischiefe doe.
It cleane forgets, and spoyle and hauocke cries,
Takes no regard, to dutie, faith, or oath,
But claps on wood, where fire and flame may rise,
Tels tatling tales, shewes furious angry eies,
Makes brags and boast that all shall lie in dust,
And hath no hope, but treason is his trust:
The wife, the child, the friend and neighbour toe
Rebellion hates, for hee will mischiefe doe.
It findeth fault, with peace and ciuill Lawes.
Abhors good men, and such as gouernes well:
Takes toy in head, bolts out when is no cause,
Frames deuilish drifts, to make this world a hell:
And at the length, would King and Countery sell
To wreak his wrath, O vile reuenge most vaine,
When all is lost, what doth rebellion gaine?
Ioyes it to see, the wracke of natiue land?
Such fowle offence, is whipt with his owne wand.
Abhors good men, and such as gouernes well:
Takes toy in head, bolts out when is no cause,
Frames deuilish drifts, to make this world a hell:
And at the length, would King and Countery sell
To wreak his wrath, O vile reuenge most vaine,
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Ioyes it to see, the wracke of natiue land?
Such fowle offence, is whipt with his owne wand.
Their goodes, their rent, their honour and their liues,
Shall vnder foote, be troden euery day:
Their kinde deflourde, their children and their wiues
Made captiue slaues, in bondage many a way.
And when the land, is made a straungers pray,
Like Israelites, poore Iacobs house shall mourne,
Drawe in the yoke, and see their houses burne.
Beare burthens still, and bend their backs to toile:
While enemies laugh, and triumphs of the spoile.
Shall vnder foote, be troden euery day:
Their kinde deflourde, their children and their wiues
Made captiue slaues, in bondage many a way.
And when the land, is made a straungers pray,
Like Israelites, poore Iacobs house shall mourne,
Drawe in the yoke, and see their houses burne.
Beare burthens still, and bend their backs to toile:
While enemies laugh, and triumphs of the spoile.
What can procure, a man to sell his life,
Forsake his Prince, become a seruile slaue:
What cause can be, in state to stir a strife?
What ioy or blisse, by thraldome can we haue?
When men are well, what deuill would they craue?
What makes men mad? why dote they in this age?
To forraine foes, to run in such a rage.
Their language sure, I trowe is not so fine:
Their loue is grosse, and tastes like troubled wine.
Forsake his Prince, become a seruile slaue:
What cause can be, in state to stir a strife?
What ioy or blisse, by thraldome can we haue?
When men are well, what deuill would they craue?
What makes men mad? why dote they in this age?
To forraine foes, to run in such a rage.
Their language sure, I trowe is not so fine:
Their loue is grosse, and tastes like troubled wine.
Want thou but gilt, where they are maisters still,
There shalt thou starue, for all their goodly showes,
With mockes and skornes, and many another ill:
Poore [illeg.] stands, among a many of Crowes.
The wandring wight, that long a gadding goes,
Comes home at last (by beggars weeping crosse)
Like rowling stone, that neuer gathers mosse,
A straunger doth, but stare in trauailers face,
And smiles in sleeue, at silly soules disgrace.
There shalt thou starue, for all their goodly showes,
With mockes and skornes, and many another ill:
Poore [illeg.] stands, among a many of Crowes.
The wandring wight, that long a gadding goes,
Comes home at last (by beggars weeping crosse)
Like rowling stone, that neuer gathers mosse,
A straunger doth, but stare in trauailers face,
And smiles in sleeue, at silly soules disgrace.
Rebellion likes, the man he neuer saw,
If blouddy wars, vpon that league may linke:
As to the sicke, doth euill humors draw,
And from fowle pits, comes smoake and noisome stinke,
So filthy flouds, flow from rebellious brinke,
A troubled streame, of puddle mixt with mire.
Doth quench the thirst, of rebels hote desire.
The water cleare, but skalds a rebels breast:
For cruell rage, and ryot takes no rest.
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As to the sicke, doth euill humors draw,
And from fowle pits, comes smoake and noisome stinke,
So filthy flouds, flow from rebellious brinke,
A troubled streame, of puddle mixt with mire.
Doth quench the thirst, of rebels hote desire.
The water cleare, but skalds a rebels breast:
For cruell rage, and ryot takes no rest.
It runnes with hare, and hunts with blouddy hound,
It stands with strong, and leaues the weake at worst:
In common wealth, it makes a mortall wound,
It brags to fight, and yet retireth forst:
It is a plague, that God himselfe hath curst,
For it deuides, in little peeces small,
Both Kingdomes great, and mighty monarkes all:
Dissention workes, to sowe but Sathans seedes,
And pluckes vp flowres, and plants in stinking weedes.
It stands with strong, and leaues the weake at worst:
In common wealth, it makes a mortall wound,
It brags to fight, and yet retireth forst:
It is a plague, that God himselfe hath curst,
For it deuides, in little peeces small,
Both Kingdomes great, and mighty monarkes all:
Dissention workes, to sowe but Sathans seedes,
And pluckes vp flowres, and plants in stinking weedes.
It creepes in hoales, and corners close by ribs,
Prouides for friends, to band it out for neede:
It bankets still, and freely quafs and bibs,
And with lewd words, their wicked humor feedes.
Prates much of Prince, makes boast of doughty deedes.
When feeble hearts, lies quaking in their hose,
Much like bold Cocks, that lowd on midding crowes.
But yet cries creake, when that in sharpe they come:
For rebels can, not bide the sound of Drome.
Prouides for friends, to band it out for neede:
It bankets still, and freely quafs and bibs,
And with lewd words, their wicked humor feedes.
Prates much of Prince, makes boast of doughty deedes.
When feeble hearts, lies quaking in their hose,
Much like bold Cocks, that lowd on midding crowes.
But yet cries creake, when that in sharpe they come:
For rebels can, not bide the sound of Drome.
At May Powl mirth, or at some mariage feast,
Or in a faire, where people swarme like Bees:
These stinging wasps, but new come out of neast.
Doe flie for life, and so together grees,
Like little mites, or maggots in a cheese.
The humming then, that these wood wasps doe make.
Doth seeme at first, as it would mountaines shake:
But out alas, those lawlesse loytring soules,
Are hid in hast, or crept in Conny holes.
Or in a faire, where people swarme like Bees:
These stinging wasps, but new come out of neast.
Doe flie for life, and so together grees,
Like little mites, or maggots in a cheese.
The humming then, that these wood wasps doe make.
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But out alas, those lawlesse loytring soules,
Are hid in hast, or crept in Conny holes.
The priuy theefe, that steales away our wealth,
Is sore afraide, a true mans steps to see:
The fearefull wight, that doth misdoubt his health,
Will blushe to come, where that sound people be.
The faithfull stands, the faulty man will flee:
The rebell shrinks, where rule and order swaies.
Troth bides the brunt, the Traitor runs his waies:
Bold practise quakes, when power supplants his pride,
Where biles breaks out, there is rebellion spide.
Is sore afraide, a true mans steps to see:
The fearefull wight, that doth misdoubt his health,
Will blushe to come, where that sound people be.
The faithfull stands, the faulty man will flee:
The rebell shrinks, where rule and order swaies.
Troth bides the brunt, the Traitor runs his waies:
Bold practise quakes, when power supplants his pride,
Where biles breaks out, there is rebellion spide.
Among good Ewes, beware of scabbed sheepe,
The Wolfe with Lambe, may not be matcht aright:
The slocke is spoilde, where Fox the Geese doth keepe.
The sicke with sound, is sure no comely sight.
What needes more tearmes, who dares not bide the light?
In darkenesse dwels, a blinde rebellious minde,
Is more corrupt, then any thing we finde.
Then either heale, the member that doth smell,
Or cut him of, before he further swell.
The Wolfe with Lambe, may not be matcht aright:
The slocke is spoilde, where Fox the Geese doth keepe.
The sicke with sound, is sure no comely sight.
What needes more tearmes, who dares not bide the light?
In darkenesse dwels, a blinde rebellious minde,
Is more corrupt, then any thing we finde.
Then either heale, the member that doth smell,
Or cut him of, before he further swell.
But farre more fit, that flesh should be reformde,
And sau'de from harme, that else corrupt would grow:
The itching hand, of force must needes be wormde,
Least skinne waxe rough, and pimples rise, ye know.
If knife pare well, a corne vppon the toe.
The foote is easde, and man shall march vpright.
Take slime from eies, the blinde receiues his sight:
So cleansing cleane, each part and member well:
The state of man, in safety long shall dwell,
And sau'de from harme, that else corrupt would grow:
The itching hand, of force must needes be wormde,
Least skinne waxe rough, and pimples rise, ye know.
If knife pare well, a corne vppon the toe.
The foote is easde, and man shall march vpright.
Take slime from eies, the blinde receiues his sight:
So cleansing cleane, each part and member well:
The state of man, in safety long shall dwell,
So all thinges meant, that here doth passe the pen,
Woundes to be heald, and searched as they ought:
All to be done, for health and wealth of men,
And nought amisse, in word, in deede nor thought:
Yea when my verse, so great a worke hath wrought,
To linke in loue, good subiects all in one.
To stand as firme, as rocke or marble stone,
Then shall my mouth, my muse, my pen and all,
Be prest to serue, at each good subiects call.
80
All to be done, for health and wealth of men,
And nought amisse, in word, in deede nor thought:
Yea when my verse, so great a worke hath wrought,
To linke in loue, good subiects all in one.
To stand as firme, as rocke or marble stone,
Then shall my mouth, my muse, my pen and all,
Be prest to serue, at each good subiects call.
FINIS.
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