 | Commendatory poem |  |
To the reder.
Lyke as in tyme of Goddes reuengyng wrath:
When fyry Mars, when Saturn colde. and drye
Wyth Soonne in Scorpion conspyrid hathe,
And from the south vnholsoome breathis do flye:
Uehoomde vapors, they poyson by and bye
The duskid ayer. infectid is the water:
Corrupt is foode of mennis substance the matter:
When fyry Mars, when Saturn colde. and drye
Wyth Soonne in Scorpion conspyrid hathe,
And from the south vnholsoome breathis do flye:
Uehoomde vapors, they poyson by and bye
The duskid ayer. infectid is the water:
Corrupt is foode of mennis substance the matter:
The moysture hote then rottith inwardly:
Then stoppid ar the holes of outerskyn:
Then from the hart the heate to veynes dooth hye:
Then natiue vice abatith all within,
Drawne fast together, dryed, and dryuen full thyn:
Then wastith lyuyng wyghtis, without defence,
The ragyng plage, and cruell pestilence:
Then stoppid ar the holes of outerskyn:
Then from the hart the heate to veynes dooth hye:
Then natiue vice abatith all within,
Then wastith lyuyng wyghtis, without defence,
The ragyng plage, and cruell pestilence:
Ryght so the Deuyll out sent to trouble vs,
With hellysh hotlynges, with Saturnians,
With creepyng beastes, the light defasyng thus,
As in this storme styll stoute Pelagians
Blowes forth the blastes of Antichristians:
The bondeslaues of Satan, sowers of lyes,
Masters of myschief, trompes of heresyes.
With hellysh hotlynges, with Saturnians,
With creepyng beastes, the light defasyng thus,
As in this storme styll stoute Pelagians
Blowes forth the blastes of Antichristians:
The bondeslaues of Satan, sowers of lyes,
Masters of myschief, trompes of heresyes.
Now fostrid is a maddyng maladye
In heddis neewfanglid, and beewitchid thaughtis:
Refusyng all goode leachis remedye:
Goddis trouth to fāsies plucking, that be naughtis:
Lewde people drawyng by vnskylfull draughtis:
Untyll the symple soules, without redres,
Possest of error fayntyth succourles.
In heddis neewfanglid, and beewitchid thaughtis:
Refusyng all goode leachis remedye:
Goddis trouth to fāsies plucking, that be naughtis:
Lewde people drawyng by vnskylfull draughtis:
Untyll the symple soules, without redres,
Possest of error fayntyth succourles.
Yet, lo, whan as that murren is so brymme:
To his, God shapith soouerayne sauegarde:
By chaunge of place: by purgyng euery lymme:
By bytter sowle, by thynne diet, and harde:
By mouyng members toward, and frowarde:
By Uipars bodye bet, with herbis not voyde
Of vertue: if her hedde, and tayle be stroyde.
To his, God shapith soouerayne sauegarde:
By chaunge of place: by purgyng euery lymme:
By bytter sowle, by thynne diet, and harde:
By mouyng members toward, and frowarde:
By Uipars bodye bet, with herbis not voyde
Of vertue: if her hedde, and tayle be stroyde.
Likewise goode helpis God giues against the sore
Disease of mynde, and brayne fantasticall:
To seewe sage companye, to vse nomore
Unholsome stedis: to clenge, and to let fall
The Proude, and coye conceyte: withdrawyng all
Fat fare,, and fyne, straunge disshes to forsake:
For Alexander, Woolfbane lest thou take:
Disease of mynde, and brayne fantasticall:
To seewe sage companye, to vse nomore
Unholsome stedis: to clenge, and to let fall
The Proude, and coye conceyte: withdrawyng all
Fat fare,, and fyne, straunge disshes to forsake:
For Alexander, Woolfbane lest thou take:
To practise heuenly lore, and wysdome brought
Downe from aboue: this medicine to applye
To rescue folke, that hath contagion cought,
And eeke to saue a man continuallye
From dedly poysen: yea or els to trye,
Which way thou mayest cut of the adders hedde,
Or ease thy frende vnto thy ancor fledde.
Downe from aboue: this medicine to applye
To rescue folke, that hath contagion cought,
And eeke to saue a man continuallye
From dedly poysen: yea or els to trye,
Which way thou mayest cut of the adders hedde,
Or ease thy frende vnto thy ancor fledde.
Wylt thou be sounde? wylt thou be safe, & sure?
Folowe, folowe thys worke, thou haste in hande.
Wylt thou hym kenne, that cause is of cure?
He that abrode here, and out of the lande,
He that in warde, did Antichriste witstande:
Goode Doctor Turner: who by skyll is able
To proue the soothe, and to confounde eche fable.
Folowe, folowe thys worke, thou haste in hande.
Wylt thou hym kenne, that cause is of cure?
He that abrode here, and out of the lande,
Goode Doctor Turner: who by skyll is able
To proue the soothe, and to confounde eche fable.
| Commendatory poem | |