Chapter 29

Vpon....Of the cruell clergy[?],And the proude prelacy[?],That now do looke so hie,As though that by and byThey wold clymbe and fflyeVp to the clowdy skye:[469]Wher all men may espye,By fals hipocrysyeThei long haue blered the eyeOf all the world well nye;Comytting apostacieAgainst that verytyeThat thei can not denye:In which how shamlesslyThey do ... and ayeTher concyens testyfyeThe poppe[?]....Curte[?]....The rest of B ... markes,That be heresyarkes,Which do com[yt?] ther warkes,As one that in the darke ys,And wotes not wher the marke ys,Do take the kites for larkes.Suche be owr primates,Our bisshopps and prelates,Our parsons and curates,[470]With other like estatesThat were shaven pates;As monkes white and blacke,And channons that cane chatte,Glottons[471]ffayre and fatt,With ffriers of the sacke,And brothers of the bagg,As nymble as a nagg,That cane bothe prate and bragg,To make the pulpett waggeWith twenty thousand lyes,Do make the blind eate flyes,And[472]blere our symple eyes,To make vs to beleveGod morowe is god eve;For pleynly to be breve,So nye they do vs dreve,That we, to our great greve,Must sey that white is blacke,Or elles they sey we smacke,And smell we wote not what:But then beware the catt;For yf they smell a ratt,They grisely chide and chatt,And, Haue him[473]by the jack,A fagott for his backe,Or, Take[474]him to the racke,And drowne hyme in a sacke,Or burne hyme on a stake!Lo, thus they vndertakeThe trothe false to make!Alas, for Christ his sake!Is the sonnelight darke,Or ignoraunc[e] a clarke,Bycawse that thei hath powreTo send men to the Towre,The simple to devowre?If they lyst to lowre,Ys suger therfor sowre?Dothe[475]five and three make ffour?As well I durst be boldeTo sey the ffier were colde.But yet they worke muche worse,When they for blissinge cowrse;For Father Friska jolly,AndPaterPecke a lolly,That be all full of folly,Doo[476]fayne them seem[477]holy,For ther monopoly,And ther private welthe,That they haue take by stelthe;And in the churche they lurke,As ill as any Turke,So proudely they vsurpe,Besyde the spritt of Christ,The office of a prysteIn any wise to take,As thoughe it were a iape,To runne in att the rove;[478]For some of them do prove[479]To clyme vpp ere they knoweThe doore from the wyndowe;They may not stoope alowe,But backe bend as a bowe;They make an owtwarde showe,And so forthe one a rowe,As dapper as a crowe,And perte as any pye,And lighte as any ffly.At borde and at tableThey be full servysable,Sober and demure,Acquayntans to allure,Wher they may be sure[480]By any craft or trayneTo fyshe for any gayne,[481]Or wayt for any wynnyng,—A prestly begynnynge!For many a hyerlinge,With a wilde fyerlinge,Whan his credyte is most,With mikell brag and bostShall pryck[482]owt as a post,Chafyng[483]lyke myne hoste,As hott as any toste,And ride from cost to cost,And then[484]shall rule the rost.And some avaunced beFor ther auncente,Thoughe[485]ther antiquityeBe all innequitye;Yett be they calledTo the charge of the fald,Because they be balled,And be for bisshopps stalled.And some kepe ther stationsIn owtwarde straunge natyons,Lernynge invocatyons,And craftye incantatyons;And so by inchantementGette theyr avauncement.And some by fayned favourFor honour or for havour,By voyses boughte and solde,For sylver and for golde,For lande, for rente or ffee,Or by authorityeOf menn of hye degree,Or for some qualitye,As many of them bee,For ther actyvitee,Ther practyse and industrye,Sleyght, craft, and knavery,In matters of bawdery,Or by helpe of kynne,An easy liffe to wynne.I swere by Saincte Mary,He that thus dothe caryIs a mercenary,Yea, a sangunary,A pastore for to pullOf bothe skynne and wolle.Thoughe Christ be the doer,They force not of his looer,They sett therby no stoore;Ther stody is for moore:And I tell youe therforeThat they ther tyme temperWith a provisoosemperAn other wey to enter,For love of wordely good,Not forcinge of the fflodeOf hyme that bledd the roode;It is not for ther moode.They make deambulacyonsWith great ostentations,And loke for salutationsOn every mannes face,As in the merkett placeTo saye, God saue your grace!Thus in churche and chepinge,Wher they may haue metingeWith lordes and with ladyes,To be called Rabyes:Nowe God saue these dadyes,And all ther yonge babyes!The holy worde of GodIs by these men forbod;Pater nosterand CreedeThey vtterly forbeedeTo be said or songeIn our vulgar tonge.Ohe Lorde, thou hast great wrongeOf these that shoulde be trustye,Whiche sey the breade is musty,And with ther lawe vnlustyMake it rusty and dusty!But I do thinke it rustyeFor lacke of exercyse:Wherfore they be vnwiseThat will the lawe despise,And daylye newe devyse,So dyvers and so straunge,Which[486]chaunge and rechaungeOf fastinges and of feestes,Of bowes[487]and behestes,With many of ther[488]iestes,As thoughe lay men wer bestes;As many of vs bee,That may and will not see,Nor ones cast vpp an eye,These jugglinges to espye;For this that nowe is vsedIs efte ageyne refused,Chaunged or mysvsed,That we be still abused:The lawe that servethe nowe,Ageyne they disalowe.Thus forthe and backe,[489]With bryve and with bullThey dayly plucke and pull,And yett be never ffull;For wher one bull makes,An other bull forsakes;The thyrde yett vndertakesTo alter all of newe:Thus none will other sue.Wherfore, by swete Jesu,I thinke they be vntreweThat iuggle tyme and tymeTo gett thyne and myne;Yea, thoughe the worlde pynne,No man wyll they spare,[490]So they ther pelfe prefarre,The lawes to make and marre,To bynde vs nere and farre;Wherto may be no barreIn peace tyme nor in warre;For none ther is that darreReplye ageyne or speake,This daunce of thers to breake;The trouthe it is so weeke:They make all men cry creake,Or fry them to a steake,—Adieu, Sir Huddypeake!Lo, Peters barge is leake,And redy for to synke!Beware yett least youe drinke;God dothe not slepe nor wynke,But sethe lande and brynke;And yf ye take the chynke,I feare me ye will stynke,And corrupt your vnctyonWith an iniunctyon;Your[491]pride and presumption,In[492]abvsing your functyon,Will breade a consumtion,And make a resumption,To bringe youe to compunction;Youre[493]lawes falsely grounded,That hath the world surounded,By trouthe shalbe confounded.Thoughe ye be lordes digne,Ye shoulde no man maligne,But ever be benyngne;And namely in suche caseWher God his gyfte or grace[494]Lyst to plante or place:The poore man, or the riche,Is to his pleasure lyche;For Christ, our derest Lorde,That made the full accorde,As Scripture dothe recorde,Betwyxt God and man,Suppressynge SattanAnd all his kingdom, whan[495]Vpon the holy rooddHe shadd his blissed bloode,As muche for one as other,Exceptinge not his mother,Made every man his brother,As many as ther beeIn faythe and charitee.But nowe by fals abvsyon,The clergy by collution,Without good conclution,Haue broughte vs to confution,And made an illution:By great inyquytie,Avaunt themselfes to beNo lesse then godes, yee,Of equall authorytye;Whiche, by ipocrysye,To exalt ther dignytye,Call vs the leudd lay ffee,Men of temporalitee;But they pretend to beeA people eternall,Of powr supernall:I fere me, infernall;For they that be carnall,Idolaters to Baall,And nothinge gostely at all,Be named spirituall;For so we must them calle,As we aye do and shall,What happe soever falle.Ther successyon may not dye,But lyve eternallye;For, without question,Perpetuall successionThey haue from one to other,As childer of ther mother;Yea, they kepe all in storeThat other hadd afore,And daylye gather more.Lo, thus the people rore,As on a fistred soreOf matter most vnpure,That thei ar dryven to indureTyll God himself send cure!That as you be possessors,So be yee successorsVnto your predecessors:And yet ye be questors,And hoorders vppe of testers;Ye[496]daylye cache and gatherOf mother and of father,And of no man ratherThen of your poore brother,And of euery other;Yea, all that comes is gayne,You passe of no mans payne,Whiche ye allwey reteyne,Who ever grudge or playne,It may not out agayne;Noughte may be remittedThat to youe is commytted;Ye be not so lighte witted.The people thinke it trueThat ye possession sueTo haue an easy life,Without debate or strife,To lyve without a wife,Lordely[497]and at ease,Without payne or disease,Your belly god to please,And worldly welth to haue:[498]Ye do your heeades shave,To make youe sure and saveIn every wind and wave,That wolde as sone raveAs ones to chippe[499]an heareSo farre aboue your eare,Or suche an habite weare,With a polled heade,To fayne yourselves deade;But for possessions sakeThat ye suche rules take,And bynde youe to the brake,That ye maye not forsakeDurynge all your lyves:So well is he that thrives.Thus be youe spirituall;And yett ye do vs callBut lewde and temporall;And that is for that weSo weake and simple be,To put oure possessionFrom oure successionAnd heires lyniallOr kynne collaterall,That be menn temporall,And so from lyne to lyne;For ech man for his tymeSayes, While it is myne,I will give while I maye,That, when I am away,They shall both singe and saye,And for my soules helthe pray,Tyll it be domes day:So, after this array,Alake and well away!We oure landes straye,And other goodes decay;Wherat ye laughe and play:And natheles allweyWe dayly pay and pay,To haue youe to go gayeWith wonderfull araye,As dysardes in a play.God wolde it were imprented,Written and indentyd,What youe haue invented!So great diversyteNowe in your garmentes be,That wonder is to se;Your triple cappe and crowne,Curtle, cope, and gowne,More worthe then halfe a towne,With golde and perle sett,And stones well iffrett;Ther can be no bett;And for no price ye lett,How far of they be fett.Oh ye kynde of vipers,Ye beestly bellyters,With Raynes and Cipres,That haue so many miters!And yett ye be but mychers.Youe weere littell hattes,Myters, and square capps,Decked with flye flappes,With many prety knackes,Like Turkes of Tartary,Moores, or men of Moscovye,Or lyke bugges of Arraby,With ouches and bosses,With staves and crosses,With pillers and posses,With standers and banners,Without good life or manners:Then haue youe gay gloves,That with your hand moves,Wroughte with true loves,And made well, for the nones,With golde and precious stones:Ye blisse vs with your bones,And with your riche ringes,That quenes and kinges,At your offringes,Shall kisse with knelinges;Which your mynykynsAnd mynyon babbes,Your closse chambred drabbes,When masse and all is done,[500]Shall were at afternone:Your curtells be of sylke,With rochetes white as mylke;Your bootes of righte sattyne,Or velvett crymosyne;Your shoes wroughte with gold,To tredd vpon the molde;Wandring, as Vandals,In sylke and in sandals,Ye kepe your holy rules,As asses and mules;For on your cloven culesWill ye never syttBut on a rich carpett;And nowe and then a fitt,After the rule of Bennett,With, dythmunia vennett,A gaye a vott gennett,With Gill or with Jennyt,Wyth Cycely or Sare;Yf thei come wher they are,Thei lay one and not spare,And never look behind them,Wher soever they ffynd them;For whan that thei be hett,And Asmodeus grett,They take, as[501]thei can gett,All[502]fyshe that comes to nett,For lust fyndes no lett[503]Tyll hys poyson be spett;Be she fyne or feat,Be she white or[504]jett,Long or short sett,Do she smyle or skowle,Be she ffayr or fowle,Or owgly[505]as an owle;For vnderneth a cowle,A surplyse or an amys,Can no man do amys;Ye halse them from harmesWith blessinges and charmes,While the water warmes,In your holy armes,Broging in ther barmes,Devoutly to clipe it,To caste her with a tryppytt,With, lusty Sir John, whip itVnderneth your tippitt,Prætextu pietatis,Quam contaminatisSub jugo castitatis,Your burning heate to cease,And expell your disease,Vnder pretens[506]of pease,The paynes to releaseOf poore sely sowles,That hide be in holesAs hote as any coles.Ye cappes haue and capes,With many other iapes,To cover with your pates;As hoodes and cowles,Like horned owles,With skapplers and cootes,Courtbies and copes,White knottyd ropes,With other instrumentes,Straunge habilimentes,And wanton vestementes,And other implementes,As tyrantes haue in tentes:But what therby ment is,Or what they signifye,I cane not tell, not I,[507]Nor you vndowtedlyeCan shew no reason whie.Ye make it herisyAnd treason to the kinge,Yf we speke any thingeThat is not to your lykynge;The truth may not be spoken,But ye will be wroken:Yett marke and note this token;Yf Gods worde ones open,Which wyll er long perdye,Then shall we here and seIn Cristianitye,Whether youe or weThe very traytours be.But, by the Trynite,It wonder is to meTo se your chariteAnd hospitaliteSo littell to the poore;And yet vpon a hooreYe passe for non expence,As thoughte it non offenceWere in the sighte of God;Youe fray not of his rod;Youe loue your bely cod;For them that haue no nedeYe dayly feest and fede:I thinke it be to dreedeLest here you[508]haue your mede.Ye drawe and cast lottes,In hattes and in pottes,For tottes and for quottes,And blere vs with your blottes,And with your mery poppes:Thus youe make vs sottes,And play with vs[509]boopepe,With other gambaldes like,To pill oure Lordes sheepe,Your honour for to kepe,Vsinge great excesse,Which I pray God represse,And soone to sende redresse!For no man can expresseThe wo and wretchednesseYoue on oure neckes do lye,By your grett tyrannye,Your pride and surquedrye,That ye do openlye:But that youe secretlyPractyse pryvylye,May not be tolde,—and why?Lest it be herysye,And than by and byTo make a faggott ffrye.For we can not deny,And treuth[510]doth playne dyscrye,And all wysemen espyeThat all the falt doth lye[511]Vpon oure owne foly,That ye be so iolye,For with oure owne goodesWe fether vppe oure[512]hoodes.Youe sanguinolently,Your mony is so plenty,That youe make no deyntyOf twenty pound and twenty,So youe may haue entry;And then youe laughe and skorneTo se vs were the horne,Ridinge here and hether,Goinge ther and thether,Lyke cokold foles[513]together,In colde, wynde, and in wether,For woll, for ledd, and lether;And yet do not consydreWe wer an oxes fether:[514]This is a prety bob,Oure hedes for to gnob[515]With suche a gentill job:And we oure selves robOf landes temporall,And jvelles great and smalle,To give youe parte of allIn almes perpetuall,To make our heyres thrallFor your[516]hye promotyon,Through[517]our blynde devotionAnd small[518]intellygens,But that our conscyens,Laden with offens,And you vs so incense,When we be going hens,To make soch recompens,By gyvyng[519]yowe[520]our pens,Our land, goodes, and rentes,For that[521]holy pretens,Havyng ffull confydensThat be[522]a safe defens:So do we styll dyspensWith all remorse and sensOf harty penytens.This cane not be denyed;Your jugglynge is espied,Your mayster is vntyed,Which is the prince of pride;For you on[523]neyther sydeCan suffre or abyde[524]To here the troth tryed,Which ye intend to hideWith vehement[525]desyre,As hote as any ffire.Thus endeth the ffirst parte of this present treatyse, called the Image of Ipocrysy.Alake, for Christes might,These thinges go not arighte!Oure lanterns give no lighte,All bisshopps be not brighte:They be so full of spyte,They care not whom they byte,Both frend and foo they smyteWyth prison, deth, and flighte;So dayly they do fyghtTo overturne the ryght:So[526]we be in the plyte,That, losing of oure sight,We[527]know not black from whyght,And be thus[528]blinded quyte,We know not[529]day from nyght.But, by my syres soule,The true Apostell PauleWrott, as we may seeIn Tyte and Tymothe,Who should a bisshoppe be:A man of holy liffe,The husbonde of one wiffe;That vseth not to strife,Or strike with sworde or knyff,Nor that at any tymeSuspected is of cryme,But wise and provident,Colde and contynent,But never vynolent;That when he eat[530]or drinke,Slepe, awake,[531]or winke,Doth styll[532]on measure thinke,And therof vse a messe,To put away excesse,Kepe[533]hyme lowe and chast;That he make no wastBy prodigaliteOr sensualytye,A waster for to be,But, after his degree,With liberalliteKepe hospitallite;He must be sadd and sage,Vsinge non outrage,But soberly with reasonTo spende in tyme and season,And so to kepe his meason;He may in no wise streke,But suffer and be meke,Shamefast and discrete,Temperat, dulce, and swete,Not speakinge angerly,But soft and manerly;And, in any wise,Beware of covetyse,The rote of all ill vice;He must be liberall,And thanke oure Lorde of all;And, as a heerde his sheepe,His childer must he kepe,And all his familyIn vertu edyfy,Vnder disciplyneOf holsome doctryne,With dew subiection,That non obiectionBe made vnto his heste[534]Of most or of leste;For thus he doth conclude,As by simylitude,Howe he that cane not skillHis housholde at his willTo governe,[535]rule, and teche,Within his power and reach,Oughte to haue no speacheOf cure and diligence,Of suche premynence,Within the churche of God;And eke it is forbodeThat he no novice be,Lest with superbiteHe do presume to hye,And consequentlyFall vnhappelyInto the frenesyOf pride and of evyll,[536]Lyke Lucyfer, the devyll;[537]For he playnly writes,That of these neophites,And pevishe proselites,Springe vpp ipocrites;A bisshoppe eke must haue,His honesty to save,Of all men such a name,That his outwarde fameBe clene from any blame,Impeched with no shame,To draw all people in,They may repent of synne,And so[538]he may them wynne,That thei fall not vnware[539]Into[540]the devils snare.Thus Paule, as ye may se,Taughte Tyte and Tymothe,Who should a bisshoppe be:And Christ oure maister dere,While he lyved here,Full poorly did appere,Mekely borne and bredd;The bare earth was his bedd,For where to hele his headd,Or where to lye and rest,He had no hole nor nest;But in great povertyHe lyved soberly,His worde to multyply;And thus did edifyeHis churche that is so holy,Suppressinge synne and foly:But not with friska ioly,As somme do nowe a dayes,That haue so many wayesAll maner[541]gaynes to reape,Ther tresures one a heapTo gather and to kepe,By pillinge of his shepe,Not forsyng who do wepe,And to his flocke repayreAs it were to a ffayre;To sit in Peters chayerWith pride and ambition,Sowyng great sedition;And by superstitionBlinde vs with remission,By bulles vnder led,To serve both quicke and dead;And by that way pretendTo clyme vpp and ascendThat Lucifer did discend.I thinke that suche frykarsBe not Christes vickars,But crafty intrycars,And pryvy purse pykars;For they that be sekarsOf stores newe and olde,May perceyve and beholdeHowe euery thinge is soldeFor sylver[542]and for golde:The craft[543]can not be told,What is and hath bene doneBy Antychryst[544]of Rome;For thens[545]the sourdes springeOf every naughty thinge,Hide vnderneth the whyngeOf the Sire of Synne;At whom I will begynnSomwhat for to speake,And playnly to intreateOf this farly freake,That sitteth in his seat,Devouringe synne as meatte,Whiche he and his do eateAs they may catch and geate:[546]They spare not to devowerCyty, towne, and tower,Wherat no man may lower;For be it swete or sower,Or be it good or yll,We must be muett still,The lustes to fulfillOf that cocodryll,Which at his[547]only willMay ech man[548]save or spyll.This wicked man of warrSo hault is that he darr,As he lyste,[549]make and marr,His owne lawe to prefarrAboue the worde of God;It passeth Godes forbodThat ever it should be;A man to clyme so hy,By reason of his see,To clayme auctorityeAboue the Deyte,It is to hy a bost,And synne one of the mostAgeynst the Holy Gost,That is not remissable:For as for the Bible,He taketh it for a ridle,Or as a lawles lible,Which, to the hy offenceOf his conscience,He dare therwith dispence,And alter the sentence;For wher God do prohibitt,He doth leve exhibite,And at his[550]lust inhybyte;And wher God doth commaunde,Ther he doth countermaunde;After his owne purposeThe best text to turne and glose,Like a Welshe manes hose,Or lyke a waxen nose:But wyse[551]men do supposeThat truth shall[552]judge and trye,For lyars can but lye.He is so hault and taunt,That he dare hyme avauntAll erthly men to daunt;And faynes to give and graunt,In heaven above or hell,[553]A place wherin to dwell,As all his lyars tell,Which he doth dayly sell,After his devise,If men come to his prise;It is his marchaundyse;For, as ye will demaunde,He can and may commaundeA thowsande, in a bande,Of angells out of heaven,To come throughe the leven,And make all thinge even,His biddinges to obey,Which beares the greatist swaye,Your soules to conveyFrome all decayeOut of the fendes wey;But provided alwey,That ye first mony paye;At the appoynted dayeYe present, if it maye;Then,[554]vnder thi petycion,Thou gettest true remyssion,[555]From synnes the absolution,By this his owne commyssion,By bryve or els by bull,To fill his coffers full;Ye may aske what ye wull.Alas, ye be to dullTo se this lorde of losse,The fo of Christes crosse,This hoore of Babilon,And seede of Zabulon,The enemy of Christ,The devels holy pryst,And very Antechrist,To revell and to ride,Like the prince of pride,That of euery sydeWarres the worlde wyde,Whom no strenghe may abide—The devill be his guyde!For loke in his decrees,And ye shall finde out lyes,As thik as swarme of byes,That throughe the worlde flyes,Making parsemonyesOf Peters patrimonyes,But great mercymonyesOf his seremonyes,To smodder vs with smoke:For, when he wilbe wroke,No man may bere his stroke;So hevy is his yoke,To Christes full vnlike,That saide his yoke is swete,His burthen lighte and meeteFor all men that be meke,To suffer and to bere,Without drede or fere:But Popes afterwarde,That never[556]had regardWhich ende shoulde go forewarde,Haue drawen vs bakwarde,And made the yoke so hardeBy false invented lawes,As thoughe lay men were dawes,And dome as any stone,With sivile and canonTo serve God and Mammon;Righte and wronge is one.Serche his decretallesAnd bulles papalles,Et, inter alia,Loke in hispaliaAndBacchanalia,[557]With his extravagantesAnd wayesvagarantes:His lawesarrogantesBe made by truwantesThat frame his finctionsInto distinctions,With cloutes of clawses,Questyons and cawses,With Sext and Clementyne,And lawes legantyne:His county pallantyneHaue coustome colubryne,With codes viperyneAnd sectes serpentyne:Blinde be his storesOf interogatoresAnd declaratores,With lapse and relapse,A wispe and a waspe,A clispe and a claspe,And his after[558]clappes;For his paragraffesBe no cosmograffes,But vnhappy graffes,That wander in the warrayne,Fruteles and barayne,To fede that foule carrayne,And dignite papall;With judges that scrape all,And doctours that take all,By lawes absynthyallAnd labirynthyall:His tabellionsBe rebellions;His laweres and scribesLive only by bribes;His holy advocatesAnd judges diligatesHaue robbed all estates,By many inventionsOf sundry suspentions,Subtile subventions,Crafty conventions,Prevy preventions,And evell exemptions;So hath his indictionsAnd his interdictions,With croked commyssions,Colde[559]compromyssions,Cursed conditions,Hevy traditions,Elvishe inibitions,And redy remissions:Then hathe he inductionsAnd colde conductions;His expectatyvesMany a man vnthrives;By his constitutionsAnd his subtitutionsHe maketh institutions,And taketh restitutions,Sellinge absolutions,And other like pollutions:His holy actionsBe satisfactionsOf false compactions:He robbeth all nationsWith his fulminations,And other like vexations;As with abiurations,Excomunycations,Aggravations,Presentations,Sequestrations,Deprivations,Advocations,Resignations,Dilapidations,Sustentations,[560]Adminystrations,Approbations,Assignations,Alterations,Narrations,Declarations,Locations,Collocations,Revocations,Dispensations,Intimations,Legittimations,Insinuations,Pronunttiations,Demonstrations,Vacations,Convocations,Deputations,Donations,Condonations,Commynations,Excusations,[561]Declamations,Visitations,Acceptations,Arrendations,Publications,Renunttiations,Fatigations,False fundations,And dissimulations,With like abbominationsOf a thowsand fasshions:His holy vnionsBe no communyons:His trialiteesAnd pluralytyesBe full of qualitees;His tottes and quottesBe full of blottes:With quibes and quaryesOf inventataries,Of testamentaries,And of mortuaries,By sutes of appeales,And by his[562]ofte repeales,He oure mony steales.I speake not of his sessions,Nor of his confessionsOlde and avricular,Colde and caniculer;Howe the cubiculer,In the capitular,With his pylde[563]spitler,Playde the knavyculerVnderneth a[564]wall:I may not tell youe all,In termes speciall,Of pardon nor of pall,Nor of confessionall;For I feare, yf[565]he callThe sentence generall,I mighte so take a fall,And haue his bitter curse,[566]And yett be not the wurse,Save only in my purse,Because I shoulde be fayneTo by my state agayneEx leno vel ex lena,Aut pellice obscœna,Res certe inamœna:[567]Papisticorum scena,Malorum semper plena;For all the worlde roundeHe falsely doth confoundeBy lawes made and founde,By thyr devyse vnsownde,With no[568]steadfast grounde,But with fayned visionsAnd develyshe devisions,With basterde religions:Thus this cursed elfe,To avaunce his pelfe,Falsely fayne[s] hymeselfTo besemideus:No, youe Asmeodeus,Ye are Amoreus,The sonne of Chanaan;O thou monstrous man,And childe of cursed Chan,Arte thou halfe god, halfe man?Gup, leviathan,And sonne of Sattan,The wormeletophagus,And sire to Symonde Magus!O porter Cerberus,Thou arte so monstrous,Soo made and myschevous,Proude and surquedrous,And as lecherousAs HeliogabalusOr Sardanapalus!Hatefull vnto God,And father of all falsehoode,The poyson of prestoode,And deth of good knighthoode,The robber of riche men,And murderer of meke men,The turment of true menThat named be newe men,The prince of periury,And Christes enemy,Vnhappy as Achab,And naughty as Nadab,As crafty as Caball,And dronken as Naball,The hope of Ismaell,And false Achitofell,The blissinge of Bell,And advocate of hell;Thou hunter Nembroth,And Judas Iscarioth,[569]Thou bloody Belyall,And sacrifise of Ball,Thou elvishe ipocrite,And naughty neophite,Thou pevishe proselite,And synefull Sodymite,Thou gredy Gomorrite,And galefull[570]Gabaonite,Tho[u] hermofrodite,Thou arte a wicked sprite,A naughty seismatike,And an heritike,A beestely bogorian,[571]And devill meridian,The patrone of proctors,And dethe of trewe doctours,The founder of faytors,And trust of all traytours,The shender of sawes,And breaker of lawes,The syre of serdoners,And prince of pardoners,The kinge of questors,And rule of regestors,The eater of frogges,And maker of goddes,The brother of brothells,And lorde of all losells,The sturrur of stoores,And keper of hooresWith gloriouse gawdes,Amonge trusty bawdes,The father of foles,And ignoraunce of scoles,The helper of harlettes,And captayne of verlettes,The cloke of all vnthriftes,And captayne of all caytifes,The leader of truwantes,And chefe of all tyrauntes,As hinde as an hogge,And kinde as any dogge,The shipwrake of Noye,—Christ saue the and Sainct Loy!Arte thou the hiest pryst,And vicar vnto Christ?No, no, I say, thou lyest:Thou arte a cursed crekar,A crafty vppcrepar;Thou arte the devils vicar,A privye[572]purse pikar,By lawes and by ritesFor sowles and for sprites:O lorde of ipocrites,Nowe shut vpp your wickettes,And clape to your clickettes,—farewell, kinge of crekettes!For nowe the tyme fallesTo speake of cardinalles,That[573]kepe ther holy hallesWith towres and walles:Be they not carnalles,And lordes infernalles?Yea, gredy carmalles,As any carmarante;With ther coppentanteThey loke adutante:For soth, men say they beFull of iniquite,Lyvinge in habundanceOf all worldly substance,Wherin they lodge and ly,And wallowe beasteally,As hogges[574]do in a stye,Servinge ther god, ther belly,With chuettes and with gelly,With venyson and with tartes,With confytes and with fartes,[575]To ease ther holy hartes.They take ther stations,And make dyambulationsInto all nations,For ther visitations,Callinge convocations,Sellinge dispensations,Givinge condonasions,Makinge permutations,And of excomunycationsSell they relaxations;For they, in ther progresse,With Katern, Mawde, and Besse,Will vse full great excesse,Withowt any redresse;And all men they oppresseIn syty, towne, and village;From olde and yong of ageThey robbe[576]and make pyllage,Thyr lusts for to aswage,Which they extorte by mighteAs in the churches righte;They may not lese a fether:But God, that lyveth ever,Graunt that they neverHaue power to come hether!For wher they ones arive,So cleane they do vs shryve,That I swere by my life,The contry ther shall thriveYeres tenn and ffiveAfter them[577]the worse:Men give them Godes curseTo shute within ther purse;Both lernyd and lewdeWolde they were beshrewed,They never mighte come nereFor to visitt here,Altho they haue sotch chereAs they cann well desyre,And as they will requier;For why, it doth appere,The hartes ar sett on fyerOf[578]chanon, monke, and fryer,That daylye dothe aspyre,[579]By bulles vnder ledd,How they should be fedd;It is therfore great skillThat every Jacke and GyllPerforme[580]the Popes will,Hys[581]purse and panch to ffill;For, as I erst haue tolde,There lyves not suche a scoldeThat dare ons be[582]so bold,From shorne ne yet from polde,Nor[583]monye, meate, nor golde,From soch men[584]to withholde,Ther favour boughte and solde,That take a thowsand ffoldeMore then that Judas did:The trouth can not be hid;For it is playnly kidJudas for his dispenseSold Christ for thirty pense,And did a foule offence,His Lorde God so to tray;And they in likewise say,After Judas way,What will ye give and pay,As the matter falles,For pardonnes and for palles,And for confessionalles?We may have absolucionsWithout restytutyons,And at oure owne electionPasse without correction,Besydes Christes passionTo make satisfaction;We feare for non offence,So they haue recompence:By great audaciteesThey graunt capacitees;For heaven and for hellThey mony take and tell:So thus they by and sell,And take therof no shame,But laughe and haue good game,To all oure souls bane:God helpe, we be to blameSutch lordes to defame;Yett, by the common fame,Some bisshops vse the same,In Christes holy nameSoules to sell and bye:My mynde is not to lye,But to write playnlyeAgeynst ipocresyeIn bisshopp or in other,Yea, thoughe it were my brother,My father or my mother,My syster or my sonne;For, as I haue begonne,I will, as I haue donne,Disclose the great outrageThat is in this Image;For[585]he that feles the pricke,And theron groweth sycke,May with the gald horse kike;For, as I erst haue said,Oure bisshops at a braydAr growne so sore afrayde,And in[586]the world so wideDo vse sutch pompe and pride,And rule on euery syde,That none may them abide:Of no[587]prince, lord, nor duke,They take will a rebuke;All lay men they surmount,Makinge non accompte,Nor cast no reckonyngeScarcely of a kinge:This is a wonder[588]thinge;They stande so suer and fast,And be nothinge agast;[589]For that blody judgeAnd mighty sanguisuge,The Pope that is so huge,Is ever ther refuge;So be the cardinallesTher suer defence and walles,With whom they stifly standeBy water and by lande,To gett the overhandeOf all the world rounde,Wher profitt may be founde:They be so many legions,That they oppresse regionsWith boke, bell, and candell,Any kinge to handell,As they haue many one:For triall herevponI take of good Kinge John,Whom by the bitingeOf ther subtill smytinge,First by acytinge,And after interditinge,By fulmynationsOf excommunications;For by ther holy pooresThey stored vpp stoores,[590]And kepte suche stvrre with hores,And shut vpp all churche dooresFor ther princely pleasure,They lyve so owt of measure,Till they might haue leasure,Ther lieg lorde and kingeSo base and lowe to bringe;Which was a pyttevs thyng,That he with wepinge yees,Bowinge backe and thies,And knelinge on his knees,Must render vpp his fees,With kingly dignytees,Septer, crowne, and landes,Into ther holy handes:Alas, howe mighte it beThat oure nobiliteeCould then no better se?For theyrs was the faultOure prelates were so haulte;Their strength then was to sekeTher liege lorde to kepe;They durst not fight ne strike,They feared of a gleke,That, no day in the weke,For any good or cattell,Durst they go to battell,Nor entre churche ne chappellIn syxe or seven yere,Before Christ to appere,And devine seruice hereIn any hallowed place,For lacke of ther good grace;Ther was no tyme nor spaceTo do to God seruice,But as they wolde devise;Their lawes be so sinystre,That no man durst minystreThe holy sacrementesTill they hadd ther intentesOf landes and of rentes,By lawes and by lyes;To inriche ther sees,The blind men eat vpp flees;For by ther constitutionsThey toke restitutionsOf cyties and of castells,Of townes and bastells,And make ther prince pike wastells,Till they rang out the belles,And did as they wold elles,Like traytours and rebelles,As the story telles.But Jesu Christ hymeself,Nor his appostells twelffe,Vnto that cvrsyd elfeDid never teach hym[591]soIn any wise to do,For lucre or advayle,[592]Ageynst thyr kyng to rayle,And[593]lieg lorde to assayle,Within his owne landeTo put hym vnder bande,And take brede of his hande:The Lorde saue sutch a flockThat so could mowe and mockTo make ther kinge a block,And eke ther laughinge stocke!They blered hym with a lurche,And said that he must wurcheBy counsell of the churche;Wherby they ment nothingeBut to wrest and wringe,Only for to bringeTher liege lorde and kingeTo be ther vnderlinge:Alas, who euer saweA kinge vnder awe,Ageynst all Gods lawe,All righte and consience,For doinge non offenceTo make sutch recompence?They gave ther lorde a laske,To purge withall his caske,And putt hym to no taske,But as they wold hyme aske:This was a midday maske,A kinge so to enforceWith pacyence perforce.Take hede therfore and watche,All ye that knowe this tatche,Ye make not sutch a matche;Loke forth, beware the katche,Ye fall not in the snatcheOf that vngratiovs pacthe,Before the rope hym racthe,Or Tyburne dothe hym strache.But who so[594]preache or prate,I warne youe, rathe and lateTo loke vpp and awake,That ye do never makeYour maister nor your mateTo sytt withowt your gate;Take hede, for Christes sake,And knowe your owne estate,Or ye be tardy take;Yea, lest it be to lateTo trust on hadd I wist,Imasked in a myst,—As good to ly bypist;For these his primates,Bysshops and prelates,And popeholy legates,With ther pild pates,Dare conquer[595]all estates:They do but as they will;For, be it good or ill,We must be muett still:Why lay men can not se,It is the more pite.

Vpon....

Of the cruell clergy[?],

And the proude prelacy[?],

That now do looke so hie,

As though that by and by

They wold clymbe and fflye

Vp to the clowdy skye:[469]

Wher all men may espye,

By fals hipocrysye

Thei long haue blered the eye

Of all the world well nye;

Comytting apostacie

Against that verytye

That thei can not denye:

In which how shamlessly

They do ... and aye

Ther concyens testyfye

The poppe[?]....

Curte[?]....

The rest of B ... markes,

That be heresyarkes,

Which do com[yt?] ther warkes,

As one that in the darke ys,

And wotes not wher the marke ys,

Do take the kites for larkes.

Suche be owr primates,

Our bisshopps and prelates,

Our parsons and curates,[470]

With other like estates

That were shaven pates;

As monkes white and blacke,

And channons that cane chatte,

Glottons[471]ffayre and fatt,

With ffriers of the sacke,

And brothers of the bagg,

As nymble as a nagg,

That cane bothe prate and bragg,

To make the pulpett wagge

With twenty thousand lyes,

Do make the blind eate flyes,

And[472]blere our symple eyes,

To make vs to beleve

God morowe is god eve;

For pleynly to be breve,

So nye they do vs dreve,

That we, to our great greve,

Must sey that white is blacke,

Or elles they sey we smacke,

And smell we wote not what:

But then beware the catt;

For yf they smell a ratt,

They grisely chide and chatt,

And, Haue him[473]by the jack,

A fagott for his backe,

Or, Take[474]him to the racke,

And drowne hyme in a sacke,

Or burne hyme on a stake!

Lo, thus they vndertake

The trothe false to make!

Alas, for Christ his sake!

Is the sonnelight darke,

Or ignoraunc[e] a clarke,

Bycawse that thei hath powre

To send men to the Towre,

The simple to devowre?

If they lyst to lowre,

Ys suger therfor sowre?

Dothe[475]five and three make ffour?

As well I durst be bolde

To sey the ffier were colde.

But yet they worke muche worse,

When they for blissinge cowrse;

For Father Friska jolly,

AndPaterPecke a lolly,

That be all full of folly,

Doo[476]fayne them seem[477]holy,

For ther monopoly,

And ther private welthe,

That they haue take by stelthe;

And in the churche they lurke,

As ill as any Turke,

So proudely they vsurpe,

Besyde the spritt of Christ,

The office of a pryste

In any wise to take,

As thoughe it were a iape,

To runne in att the rove;[478]

For some of them do prove[479]

To clyme vpp ere they knowe

The doore from the wyndowe;

They may not stoope alowe,

But backe bend as a bowe;

They make an owtwarde showe,

And so forthe one a rowe,

As dapper as a crowe,

And perte as any pye,

And lighte as any ffly.

At borde and at table

They be full servysable,

Sober and demure,

Acquayntans to allure,

Wher they may be sure[480]

By any craft or trayne

To fyshe for any gayne,[481]

Or wayt for any wynnyng,—

A prestly begynnynge!

For many a hyerlinge,

With a wilde fyerlinge,

Whan his credyte is most,

With mikell brag and bost

Shall pryck[482]owt as a post,

Chafyng[483]lyke myne hoste,

As hott as any toste,

And ride from cost to cost,

And then[484]shall rule the rost.

And some avaunced be

For ther auncente,

Thoughe[485]ther antiquitye

Be all innequitye;

Yett be they called

To the charge of the fald,

Because they be balled,

And be for bisshopps stalled.

And some kepe ther stations

In owtwarde straunge natyons,

Lernynge invocatyons,

And craftye incantatyons;

And so by inchantement

Gette theyr avauncement.

And some by fayned favour

For honour or for havour,

By voyses boughte and solde,

For sylver and for golde,

For lande, for rente or ffee,

Or by authoritye

Of menn of hye degree,

Or for some qualitye,

As many of them bee,

For ther actyvitee,

Ther practyse and industrye,

Sleyght, craft, and knavery,

In matters of bawdery,

Or by helpe of kynne,

An easy liffe to wynne.

I swere by Saincte Mary,

He that thus dothe cary

Is a mercenary,

Yea, a sangunary,

A pastore for to pull

Of bothe skynne and wolle.

Thoughe Christ be the doer,

They force not of his looer,

They sett therby no stoore;

Ther stody is for moore:

And I tell youe therfore

That they ther tyme temper

With a provisoosemper

An other wey to enter,

For love of wordely good,

Not forcinge of the fflode

Of hyme that bledd the roode;

It is not for ther moode.

They make deambulacyons

With great ostentations,

And loke for salutations

On every mannes face,

As in the merkett place

To saye, God saue your grace!

Thus in churche and chepinge,

Wher they may haue metinge

With lordes and with ladyes,

To be called Rabyes:

Nowe God saue these dadyes,

And all ther yonge babyes!

The holy worde of God

Is by these men forbod;

Pater nosterand Creede

They vtterly forbeede

To be said or songe

In our vulgar tonge.

Ohe Lorde, thou hast great wronge

Of these that shoulde be trustye,

Whiche sey the breade is musty,

And with ther lawe vnlusty

Make it rusty and dusty!

But I do thinke it rustye

For lacke of exercyse:

Wherfore they be vnwise

That will the lawe despise,

And daylye newe devyse,

So dyvers and so straunge,

Which[486]chaunge and rechaunge

Of fastinges and of feestes,

Of bowes[487]and behestes,

With many of ther[488]iestes,

As thoughe lay men wer bestes;

As many of vs bee,

That may and will not see,

Nor ones cast vpp an eye,

These jugglinges to espye;

For this that nowe is vsed

Is efte ageyne refused,

Chaunged or mysvsed,

That we be still abused:

The lawe that servethe nowe,

Ageyne they disalowe.

Thus forthe and backe,[489]

With bryve and with bull

They dayly plucke and pull,

And yett be never ffull;

For wher one bull makes,

An other bull forsakes;

The thyrde yett vndertakes

To alter all of newe:

Thus none will other sue.

Wherfore, by swete Jesu,

I thinke they be vntrewe

That iuggle tyme and tyme

To gett thyne and myne;

Yea, thoughe the worlde pynne,

No man wyll they spare,[490]

So they ther pelfe prefarre,

The lawes to make and marre,

To bynde vs nere and farre;

Wherto may be no barre

In peace tyme nor in warre;

For none ther is that darre

Replye ageyne or speake,

This daunce of thers to breake;

The trouthe it is so weeke:

They make all men cry creake,

Or fry them to a steake,—

Adieu, Sir Huddypeake!

Lo, Peters barge is leake,

And redy for to synke!

Beware yett least youe drinke;

God dothe not slepe nor wynke,

But sethe lande and brynke;

And yf ye take the chynke,

I feare me ye will stynke,

And corrupt your vnctyon

With an iniunctyon;

Your[491]pride and presumption,

In[492]abvsing your functyon,

Will breade a consumtion,

And make a resumption,

To bringe youe to compunction;

Youre[493]lawes falsely grounded,

That hath the world surounded,

By trouthe shalbe confounded.

Thoughe ye be lordes digne,

Ye shoulde no man maligne,

But ever be benyngne;

And namely in suche case

Wher God his gyfte or grace[494]

Lyst to plante or place:

The poore man, or the riche,

Is to his pleasure lyche;

For Christ, our derest Lorde,

That made the full accorde,

As Scripture dothe recorde,

Betwyxt God and man,

Suppressynge Sattan

And all his kingdom, whan[495]

Vpon the holy roodd

He shadd his blissed bloode,

As muche for one as other,

Exceptinge not his mother,

Made every man his brother,

As many as ther bee

In faythe and charitee.

But nowe by fals abvsyon,

The clergy by collution,

Without good conclution,

Haue broughte vs to confution,

And made an illution:

By great inyquytie,

Avaunt themselfes to be

No lesse then godes, yee,

Of equall authorytye;

Whiche, by ipocrysye,

To exalt ther dignytye,

Call vs the leudd lay ffee,

Men of temporalitee;

But they pretend to bee

A people eternall,

Of powr supernall:

I fere me, infernall;

For they that be carnall,

Idolaters to Baall,

And nothinge gostely at all,

Be named spirituall;

For so we must them calle,

As we aye do and shall,

What happe soever falle.

Ther successyon may not dye,

But lyve eternallye;

For, without question,

Perpetuall succession

They haue from one to other,

As childer of ther mother;

Yea, they kepe all in store

That other hadd afore,

And daylye gather more.

Lo, thus the people rore,

As on a fistred sore

Of matter most vnpure,

That thei ar dryven to indure

Tyll God himself send cure!

That as you be possessors,

So be yee successors

Vnto your predecessors:

And yet ye be questors,

And hoorders vppe of testers;

Ye[496]daylye cache and gather

Of mother and of father,

And of no man rather

Then of your poore brother,

And of euery other;

Yea, all that comes is gayne,

You passe of no mans payne,

Whiche ye allwey reteyne,

Who ever grudge or playne,

It may not out agayne;

Noughte may be remitted

That to youe is commytted;

Ye be not so lighte witted.

The people thinke it true

That ye possession sue

To haue an easy life,

Without debate or strife,

To lyve without a wife,

Lordely[497]and at ease,

Without payne or disease,

Your belly god to please,

And worldly welth to haue:[498]

Ye do your heeades shave,

To make youe sure and save

In every wind and wave,

That wolde as sone rave

As ones to chippe[499]an heare

So farre aboue your eare,

Or suche an habite weare,

With a polled heade,

To fayne yourselves deade;

But for possessions sake

That ye suche rules take,

And bynde youe to the brake,

That ye maye not forsake

Durynge all your lyves:

So well is he that thrives.

Thus be youe spirituall;

And yett ye do vs call

But lewde and temporall;

And that is for that we

So weake and simple be,

To put oure possession

From oure succession

And heires lyniall

Or kynne collaterall,

That be menn temporall,

And so from lyne to lyne;

For ech man for his tyme

Sayes, While it is myne,

I will give while I maye,

That, when I am away,

They shall both singe and saye,

And for my soules helthe pray,

Tyll it be domes day:

So, after this array,

Alake and well away!

We oure landes straye,

And other goodes decay;

Wherat ye laughe and play:

And natheles allwey

We dayly pay and pay,

To haue youe to go gaye

With wonderfull araye,

As dysardes in a play.

God wolde it were imprented,

Written and indentyd,

What youe haue invented!

So great diversyte

Nowe in your garmentes be,

That wonder is to se;

Your triple cappe and crowne,

Curtle, cope, and gowne,

More worthe then halfe a towne,

With golde and perle sett,

And stones well iffrett;

Ther can be no bett;

And for no price ye lett,

How far of they be fett.

Oh ye kynde of vipers,

Ye beestly bellyters,

With Raynes and Cipres,

That haue so many miters!

And yett ye be but mychers.

Youe weere littell hattes,

Myters, and square capps,

Decked with flye flappes,

With many prety knackes,

Like Turkes of Tartary,

Moores, or men of Moscovye,

Or lyke bugges of Arraby,

With ouches and bosses,

With staves and crosses,

With pillers and posses,

With standers and banners,

Without good life or manners:

Then haue youe gay gloves,

That with your hand moves,

Wroughte with true loves,

And made well, for the nones,

With golde and precious stones:

Ye blisse vs with your bones,

And with your riche ringes,

That quenes and kinges,

At your offringes,

Shall kisse with knelinges;

Which your mynykyns

And mynyon babbes,

Your closse chambred drabbes,

When masse and all is done,[500]

Shall were at afternone:

Your curtells be of sylke,

With rochetes white as mylke;

Your bootes of righte sattyne,

Or velvett crymosyne;

Your shoes wroughte with gold,

To tredd vpon the molde;

Wandring, as Vandals,

In sylke and in sandals,

Ye kepe your holy rules,

As asses and mules;

For on your cloven cules

Will ye never sytt

But on a rich carpett;

And nowe and then a fitt,

After the rule of Bennett,

With, dythmunia vennett,

A gaye a vott gennett,

With Gill or with Jennyt,

Wyth Cycely or Sare;

Yf thei come wher they are,

Thei lay one and not spare,

And never look behind them,

Wher soever they ffynd them;

For whan that thei be hett,

And Asmodeus grett,

They take, as[501]thei can gett,

All[502]fyshe that comes to nett,

For lust fyndes no lett[503]

Tyll hys poyson be spett;

Be she fyne or feat,

Be she white or[504]jett,

Long or short sett,

Do she smyle or skowle,

Be she ffayr or fowle,

Or owgly[505]as an owle;

For vnderneth a cowle,

A surplyse or an amys,

Can no man do amys;

Ye halse them from harmes

With blessinges and charmes,

While the water warmes,

In your holy armes,

Broging in ther barmes,

Devoutly to clipe it,

To caste her with a tryppytt,

With, lusty Sir John, whip it

Vnderneth your tippitt,

Prætextu pietatis,

Quam contaminatis

Sub jugo castitatis,

Your burning heate to cease,

And expell your disease,

Vnder pretens[506]of pease,

The paynes to release

Of poore sely sowles,

That hide be in holes

As hote as any coles.

Ye cappes haue and capes,

With many other iapes,

To cover with your pates;

As hoodes and cowles,

Like horned owles,

With skapplers and cootes,

Courtbies and copes,

White knottyd ropes,

With other instrumentes,

Straunge habilimentes,

And wanton vestementes,

And other implementes,

As tyrantes haue in tentes:

But what therby ment is,

Or what they signifye,

I cane not tell, not I,[507]

Nor you vndowtedlye

Can shew no reason whie.

Ye make it herisy

And treason to the kinge,

Yf we speke any thinge

That is not to your lykynge;

The truth may not be spoken,

But ye will be wroken:

Yett marke and note this token;

Yf Gods worde ones open,

Which wyll er long perdye,

Then shall we here and se

In Cristianitye,

Whether youe or we

The very traytours be.

But, by the Trynite,

It wonder is to me

To se your charite

And hospitalite

So littell to the poore;

And yet vpon a hoore

Ye passe for non expence,

As thoughte it non offence

Were in the sighte of God;

Youe fray not of his rod;

Youe loue your bely cod;

For them that haue no nede

Ye dayly feest and fede:

I thinke it be to dreede

Lest here you[508]haue your mede.

Ye drawe and cast lottes,

In hattes and in pottes,

For tottes and for quottes,

And blere vs with your blottes,

And with your mery poppes:

Thus youe make vs sottes,

And play with vs[509]boopepe,

With other gambaldes like,

To pill oure Lordes sheepe,

Your honour for to kepe,

Vsinge great excesse,

Which I pray God represse,

And soone to sende redresse!

For no man can expresse

The wo and wretchednesse

Youe on oure neckes do lye,

By your grett tyrannye,

Your pride and surquedrye,

That ye do openlye:

But that youe secretly

Practyse pryvylye,

May not be tolde,—and why?

Lest it be herysye,

And than by and by

To make a faggott ffrye.

For we can not deny,

And treuth[510]doth playne dyscrye,

And all wysemen espye

That all the falt doth lye[511]

Vpon oure owne foly,

That ye be so iolye,

For with oure owne goodes

We fether vppe oure[512]hoodes.

Youe sanguinolently,

Your mony is so plenty,

That youe make no deynty

Of twenty pound and twenty,

So youe may haue entry;

And then youe laughe and skorne

To se vs were the horne,

Ridinge here and hether,

Goinge ther and thether,

Lyke cokold foles[513]together,

In colde, wynde, and in wether,

For woll, for ledd, and lether;

And yet do not consydre

We wer an oxes fether:[514]

This is a prety bob,

Oure hedes for to gnob[515]

With suche a gentill job:

And we oure selves rob

Of landes temporall,

And jvelles great and smalle,

To give youe parte of all

In almes perpetuall,

To make our heyres thrall

For your[516]hye promotyon,

Through[517]our blynde devotion

And small[518]intellygens,

But that our conscyens,

Laden with offens,

And you vs so incense,

When we be going hens,

To make soch recompens,

By gyvyng[519]yowe[520]our pens,

Our land, goodes, and rentes,

For that[521]holy pretens,

Havyng ffull confydens

That be[522]a safe defens:

So do we styll dyspens

With all remorse and sens

Of harty penytens.

This cane not be denyed;

Your jugglynge is espied,

Your mayster is vntyed,

Which is the prince of pride;

For you on[523]neyther syde

Can suffre or abyde[524]

To here the troth tryed,

Which ye intend to hide

With vehement[525]desyre,

As hote as any ffire.

Thus endeth the ffirst parte of this present treatyse, called the Image of Ipocrysy.

Alake, for Christes might,These thinges go not arighte!Oure lanterns give no lighte,All bisshopps be not brighte:They be so full of spyte,They care not whom they byte,Both frend and foo they smyteWyth prison, deth, and flighte;So dayly they do fyghtTo overturne the ryght:So[526]we be in the plyte,That, losing of oure sight,We[527]know not black from whyght,And be thus[528]blinded quyte,We know not[529]day from nyght.But, by my syres soule,The true Apostell PauleWrott, as we may seeIn Tyte and Tymothe,Who should a bisshoppe be:A man of holy liffe,The husbonde of one wiffe;That vseth not to strife,Or strike with sworde or knyff,Nor that at any tymeSuspected is of cryme,But wise and provident,Colde and contynent,But never vynolent;That when he eat[530]or drinke,Slepe, awake,[531]or winke,Doth styll[532]on measure thinke,And therof vse a messe,To put away excesse,Kepe[533]hyme lowe and chast;That he make no wastBy prodigaliteOr sensualytye,A waster for to be,But, after his degree,With liberalliteKepe hospitallite;He must be sadd and sage,Vsinge non outrage,But soberly with reasonTo spende in tyme and season,And so to kepe his meason;He may in no wise streke,But suffer and be meke,Shamefast and discrete,Temperat, dulce, and swete,Not speakinge angerly,But soft and manerly;And, in any wise,Beware of covetyse,The rote of all ill vice;He must be liberall,And thanke oure Lorde of all;And, as a heerde his sheepe,His childer must he kepe,And all his familyIn vertu edyfy,Vnder disciplyneOf holsome doctryne,With dew subiection,That non obiectionBe made vnto his heste[534]Of most or of leste;For thus he doth conclude,As by simylitude,Howe he that cane not skillHis housholde at his willTo governe,[535]rule, and teche,Within his power and reach,Oughte to haue no speacheOf cure and diligence,Of suche premynence,Within the churche of God;And eke it is forbodeThat he no novice be,Lest with superbiteHe do presume to hye,And consequentlyFall vnhappelyInto the frenesyOf pride and of evyll,[536]Lyke Lucyfer, the devyll;[537]For he playnly writes,That of these neophites,And pevishe proselites,Springe vpp ipocrites;A bisshoppe eke must haue,His honesty to save,Of all men such a name,That his outwarde fameBe clene from any blame,Impeched with no shame,To draw all people in,They may repent of synne,And so[538]he may them wynne,That thei fall not vnware[539]Into[540]the devils snare.Thus Paule, as ye may se,Taughte Tyte and Tymothe,Who should a bisshoppe be:And Christ oure maister dere,While he lyved here,Full poorly did appere,Mekely borne and bredd;The bare earth was his bedd,For where to hele his headd,Or where to lye and rest,He had no hole nor nest;But in great povertyHe lyved soberly,His worde to multyply;And thus did edifyeHis churche that is so holy,Suppressinge synne and foly:But not with friska ioly,As somme do nowe a dayes,That haue so many wayesAll maner[541]gaynes to reape,Ther tresures one a heapTo gather and to kepe,By pillinge of his shepe,Not forsyng who do wepe,And to his flocke repayreAs it were to a ffayre;To sit in Peters chayerWith pride and ambition,Sowyng great sedition;And by superstitionBlinde vs with remission,By bulles vnder led,To serve both quicke and dead;And by that way pretendTo clyme vpp and ascendThat Lucifer did discend.I thinke that suche frykarsBe not Christes vickars,But crafty intrycars,And pryvy purse pykars;For they that be sekarsOf stores newe and olde,May perceyve and beholdeHowe euery thinge is soldeFor sylver[542]and for golde:The craft[543]can not be told,What is and hath bene doneBy Antychryst[544]of Rome;For thens[545]the sourdes springeOf every naughty thinge,Hide vnderneth the whyngeOf the Sire of Synne;At whom I will begynnSomwhat for to speake,And playnly to intreateOf this farly freake,That sitteth in his seat,Devouringe synne as meatte,Whiche he and his do eateAs they may catch and geate:[546]They spare not to devowerCyty, towne, and tower,Wherat no man may lower;For be it swete or sower,Or be it good or yll,We must be muett still,The lustes to fulfillOf that cocodryll,Which at his[547]only willMay ech man[548]save or spyll.This wicked man of warrSo hault is that he darr,As he lyste,[549]make and marr,His owne lawe to prefarrAboue the worde of God;It passeth Godes forbodThat ever it should be;A man to clyme so hy,By reason of his see,To clayme auctorityeAboue the Deyte,It is to hy a bost,And synne one of the mostAgeynst the Holy Gost,That is not remissable:For as for the Bible,He taketh it for a ridle,Or as a lawles lible,Which, to the hy offenceOf his conscience,He dare therwith dispence,And alter the sentence;For wher God do prohibitt,He doth leve exhibite,And at his[550]lust inhybyte;And wher God doth commaunde,Ther he doth countermaunde;After his owne purposeThe best text to turne and glose,Like a Welshe manes hose,Or lyke a waxen nose:But wyse[551]men do supposeThat truth shall[552]judge and trye,For lyars can but lye.He is so hault and taunt,That he dare hyme avauntAll erthly men to daunt;And faynes to give and graunt,In heaven above or hell,[553]A place wherin to dwell,As all his lyars tell,Which he doth dayly sell,After his devise,If men come to his prise;It is his marchaundyse;For, as ye will demaunde,He can and may commaundeA thowsande, in a bande,Of angells out of heaven,To come throughe the leven,And make all thinge even,His biddinges to obey,Which beares the greatist swaye,Your soules to conveyFrome all decayeOut of the fendes wey;But provided alwey,That ye first mony paye;At the appoynted dayeYe present, if it maye;Then,[554]vnder thi petycion,Thou gettest true remyssion,[555]From synnes the absolution,By this his owne commyssion,By bryve or els by bull,To fill his coffers full;Ye may aske what ye wull.Alas, ye be to dullTo se this lorde of losse,The fo of Christes crosse,This hoore of Babilon,And seede of Zabulon,The enemy of Christ,The devels holy pryst,And very Antechrist,To revell and to ride,Like the prince of pride,That of euery sydeWarres the worlde wyde,Whom no strenghe may abide—The devill be his guyde!For loke in his decrees,And ye shall finde out lyes,As thik as swarme of byes,That throughe the worlde flyes,Making parsemonyesOf Peters patrimonyes,But great mercymonyesOf his seremonyes,To smodder vs with smoke:For, when he wilbe wroke,No man may bere his stroke;So hevy is his yoke,To Christes full vnlike,That saide his yoke is swete,His burthen lighte and meeteFor all men that be meke,To suffer and to bere,Without drede or fere:But Popes afterwarde,That never[556]had regardWhich ende shoulde go forewarde,Haue drawen vs bakwarde,And made the yoke so hardeBy false invented lawes,As thoughe lay men were dawes,And dome as any stone,With sivile and canonTo serve God and Mammon;Righte and wronge is one.Serche his decretallesAnd bulles papalles,Et, inter alia,Loke in hispaliaAndBacchanalia,[557]With his extravagantesAnd wayesvagarantes:His lawesarrogantesBe made by truwantesThat frame his finctionsInto distinctions,With cloutes of clawses,Questyons and cawses,With Sext and Clementyne,And lawes legantyne:His county pallantyneHaue coustome colubryne,With codes viperyneAnd sectes serpentyne:Blinde be his storesOf interogatoresAnd declaratores,With lapse and relapse,A wispe and a waspe,A clispe and a claspe,And his after[558]clappes;For his paragraffesBe no cosmograffes,But vnhappy graffes,That wander in the warrayne,Fruteles and barayne,To fede that foule carrayne,And dignite papall;With judges that scrape all,And doctours that take all,By lawes absynthyallAnd labirynthyall:His tabellionsBe rebellions;His laweres and scribesLive only by bribes;His holy advocatesAnd judges diligatesHaue robbed all estates,By many inventionsOf sundry suspentions,Subtile subventions,Crafty conventions,Prevy preventions,And evell exemptions;So hath his indictionsAnd his interdictions,With croked commyssions,Colde[559]compromyssions,Cursed conditions,Hevy traditions,Elvishe inibitions,And redy remissions:Then hathe he inductionsAnd colde conductions;His expectatyvesMany a man vnthrives;By his constitutionsAnd his subtitutionsHe maketh institutions,And taketh restitutions,Sellinge absolutions,And other like pollutions:His holy actionsBe satisfactionsOf false compactions:He robbeth all nationsWith his fulminations,And other like vexations;As with abiurations,Excomunycations,Aggravations,Presentations,Sequestrations,Deprivations,Advocations,Resignations,Dilapidations,Sustentations,[560]Adminystrations,Approbations,Assignations,Alterations,Narrations,Declarations,Locations,Collocations,Revocations,Dispensations,Intimations,Legittimations,Insinuations,Pronunttiations,Demonstrations,Vacations,Convocations,Deputations,Donations,Condonations,Commynations,Excusations,[561]Declamations,Visitations,Acceptations,Arrendations,Publications,Renunttiations,Fatigations,False fundations,And dissimulations,With like abbominationsOf a thowsand fasshions:His holy vnionsBe no communyons:His trialiteesAnd pluralytyesBe full of qualitees;His tottes and quottesBe full of blottes:With quibes and quaryesOf inventataries,Of testamentaries,And of mortuaries,By sutes of appeales,And by his[562]ofte repeales,He oure mony steales.I speake not of his sessions,Nor of his confessionsOlde and avricular,Colde and caniculer;Howe the cubiculer,In the capitular,With his pylde[563]spitler,Playde the knavyculerVnderneth a[564]wall:I may not tell youe all,In termes speciall,Of pardon nor of pall,Nor of confessionall;For I feare, yf[565]he callThe sentence generall,I mighte so take a fall,And haue his bitter curse,[566]And yett be not the wurse,Save only in my purse,Because I shoulde be fayneTo by my state agayneEx leno vel ex lena,Aut pellice obscœna,Res certe inamœna:[567]Papisticorum scena,Malorum semper plena;For all the worlde roundeHe falsely doth confoundeBy lawes made and founde,By thyr devyse vnsownde,With no[568]steadfast grounde,But with fayned visionsAnd develyshe devisions,With basterde religions:Thus this cursed elfe,To avaunce his pelfe,Falsely fayne[s] hymeselfTo besemideus:No, youe Asmeodeus,Ye are Amoreus,The sonne of Chanaan;O thou monstrous man,And childe of cursed Chan,Arte thou halfe god, halfe man?Gup, leviathan,And sonne of Sattan,The wormeletophagus,And sire to Symonde Magus!O porter Cerberus,Thou arte so monstrous,Soo made and myschevous,Proude and surquedrous,And as lecherousAs HeliogabalusOr Sardanapalus!Hatefull vnto God,And father of all falsehoode,The poyson of prestoode,And deth of good knighthoode,The robber of riche men,And murderer of meke men,The turment of true menThat named be newe men,The prince of periury,And Christes enemy,Vnhappy as Achab,And naughty as Nadab,As crafty as Caball,And dronken as Naball,The hope of Ismaell,And false Achitofell,The blissinge of Bell,And advocate of hell;Thou hunter Nembroth,And Judas Iscarioth,[569]Thou bloody Belyall,And sacrifise of Ball,Thou elvishe ipocrite,And naughty neophite,Thou pevishe proselite,And synefull Sodymite,Thou gredy Gomorrite,And galefull[570]Gabaonite,Tho[u] hermofrodite,Thou arte a wicked sprite,A naughty seismatike,And an heritike,A beestely bogorian,[571]And devill meridian,The patrone of proctors,And dethe of trewe doctours,The founder of faytors,And trust of all traytours,The shender of sawes,And breaker of lawes,The syre of serdoners,And prince of pardoners,The kinge of questors,And rule of regestors,The eater of frogges,And maker of goddes,The brother of brothells,And lorde of all losells,The sturrur of stoores,And keper of hooresWith gloriouse gawdes,Amonge trusty bawdes,The father of foles,And ignoraunce of scoles,The helper of harlettes,And captayne of verlettes,The cloke of all vnthriftes,And captayne of all caytifes,The leader of truwantes,And chefe of all tyrauntes,As hinde as an hogge,And kinde as any dogge,The shipwrake of Noye,—Christ saue the and Sainct Loy!Arte thou the hiest pryst,And vicar vnto Christ?No, no, I say, thou lyest:Thou arte a cursed crekar,A crafty vppcrepar;Thou arte the devils vicar,A privye[572]purse pikar,By lawes and by ritesFor sowles and for sprites:O lorde of ipocrites,Nowe shut vpp your wickettes,And clape to your clickettes,—farewell, kinge of crekettes!For nowe the tyme fallesTo speake of cardinalles,That[573]kepe ther holy hallesWith towres and walles:Be they not carnalles,And lordes infernalles?Yea, gredy carmalles,As any carmarante;With ther coppentanteThey loke adutante:For soth, men say they beFull of iniquite,Lyvinge in habundanceOf all worldly substance,Wherin they lodge and ly,And wallowe beasteally,As hogges[574]do in a stye,Servinge ther god, ther belly,With chuettes and with gelly,With venyson and with tartes,With confytes and with fartes,[575]To ease ther holy hartes.They take ther stations,And make dyambulationsInto all nations,For ther visitations,Callinge convocations,Sellinge dispensations,Givinge condonasions,Makinge permutations,And of excomunycationsSell they relaxations;For they, in ther progresse,With Katern, Mawde, and Besse,Will vse full great excesse,Withowt any redresse;And all men they oppresseIn syty, towne, and village;From olde and yong of ageThey robbe[576]and make pyllage,Thyr lusts for to aswage,Which they extorte by mighteAs in the churches righte;They may not lese a fether:But God, that lyveth ever,Graunt that they neverHaue power to come hether!For wher they ones arive,So cleane they do vs shryve,That I swere by my life,The contry ther shall thriveYeres tenn and ffiveAfter them[577]the worse:Men give them Godes curseTo shute within ther purse;Both lernyd and lewdeWolde they were beshrewed,They never mighte come nereFor to visitt here,Altho they haue sotch chereAs they cann well desyre,And as they will requier;For why, it doth appere,The hartes ar sett on fyerOf[578]chanon, monke, and fryer,That daylye dothe aspyre,[579]By bulles vnder ledd,How they should be fedd;It is therfore great skillThat every Jacke and GyllPerforme[580]the Popes will,Hys[581]purse and panch to ffill;For, as I erst haue tolde,There lyves not suche a scoldeThat dare ons be[582]so bold,From shorne ne yet from polde,Nor[583]monye, meate, nor golde,From soch men[584]to withholde,Ther favour boughte and solde,That take a thowsand ffoldeMore then that Judas did:The trouth can not be hid;For it is playnly kidJudas for his dispenseSold Christ for thirty pense,And did a foule offence,His Lorde God so to tray;And they in likewise say,After Judas way,What will ye give and pay,As the matter falles,For pardonnes and for palles,And for confessionalles?We may have absolucionsWithout restytutyons,And at oure owne electionPasse without correction,Besydes Christes passionTo make satisfaction;We feare for non offence,So they haue recompence:By great audaciteesThey graunt capacitees;For heaven and for hellThey mony take and tell:So thus they by and sell,And take therof no shame,But laughe and haue good game,To all oure souls bane:God helpe, we be to blameSutch lordes to defame;Yett, by the common fame,Some bisshops vse the same,In Christes holy nameSoules to sell and bye:My mynde is not to lye,But to write playnlyeAgeynst ipocresyeIn bisshopp or in other,Yea, thoughe it were my brother,My father or my mother,My syster or my sonne;For, as I haue begonne,I will, as I haue donne,Disclose the great outrageThat is in this Image;For[585]he that feles the pricke,And theron groweth sycke,May with the gald horse kike;For, as I erst haue said,Oure bisshops at a braydAr growne so sore afrayde,And in[586]the world so wideDo vse sutch pompe and pride,And rule on euery syde,That none may them abide:Of no[587]prince, lord, nor duke,They take will a rebuke;All lay men they surmount,Makinge non accompte,Nor cast no reckonyngeScarcely of a kinge:This is a wonder[588]thinge;They stande so suer and fast,And be nothinge agast;[589]For that blody judgeAnd mighty sanguisuge,The Pope that is so huge,Is ever ther refuge;So be the cardinallesTher suer defence and walles,With whom they stifly standeBy water and by lande,To gett the overhandeOf all the world rounde,Wher profitt may be founde:They be so many legions,That they oppresse regionsWith boke, bell, and candell,Any kinge to handell,As they haue many one:For triall herevponI take of good Kinge John,Whom by the bitingeOf ther subtill smytinge,First by acytinge,And after interditinge,By fulmynationsOf excommunications;For by ther holy pooresThey stored vpp stoores,[590]And kepte suche stvrre with hores,And shut vpp all churche dooresFor ther princely pleasure,They lyve so owt of measure,Till they might haue leasure,Ther lieg lorde and kingeSo base and lowe to bringe;Which was a pyttevs thyng,That he with wepinge yees,Bowinge backe and thies,And knelinge on his knees,Must render vpp his fees,With kingly dignytees,Septer, crowne, and landes,Into ther holy handes:Alas, howe mighte it beThat oure nobiliteeCould then no better se?For theyrs was the faultOure prelates were so haulte;Their strength then was to sekeTher liege lorde to kepe;They durst not fight ne strike,They feared of a gleke,That, no day in the weke,For any good or cattell,Durst they go to battell,Nor entre churche ne chappellIn syxe or seven yere,Before Christ to appere,And devine seruice hereIn any hallowed place,For lacke of ther good grace;Ther was no tyme nor spaceTo do to God seruice,But as they wolde devise;Their lawes be so sinystre,That no man durst minystreThe holy sacrementesTill they hadd ther intentesOf landes and of rentes,By lawes and by lyes;To inriche ther sees,The blind men eat vpp flees;For by ther constitutionsThey toke restitutionsOf cyties and of castells,Of townes and bastells,And make ther prince pike wastells,Till they rang out the belles,And did as they wold elles,Like traytours and rebelles,As the story telles.But Jesu Christ hymeself,Nor his appostells twelffe,Vnto that cvrsyd elfeDid never teach hym[591]soIn any wise to do,For lucre or advayle,[592]Ageynst thyr kyng to rayle,And[593]lieg lorde to assayle,Within his owne landeTo put hym vnder bande,And take brede of his hande:The Lorde saue sutch a flockThat so could mowe and mockTo make ther kinge a block,And eke ther laughinge stocke!They blered hym with a lurche,And said that he must wurcheBy counsell of the churche;Wherby they ment nothingeBut to wrest and wringe,Only for to bringeTher liege lorde and kingeTo be ther vnderlinge:Alas, who euer saweA kinge vnder awe,Ageynst all Gods lawe,All righte and consience,For doinge non offenceTo make sutch recompence?They gave ther lorde a laske,To purge withall his caske,And putt hym to no taske,But as they wold hyme aske:This was a midday maske,A kinge so to enforceWith pacyence perforce.Take hede therfore and watche,All ye that knowe this tatche,Ye make not sutch a matche;Loke forth, beware the katche,Ye fall not in the snatcheOf that vngratiovs pacthe,Before the rope hym racthe,Or Tyburne dothe hym strache.But who so[594]preache or prate,I warne youe, rathe and lateTo loke vpp and awake,That ye do never makeYour maister nor your mateTo sytt withowt your gate;Take hede, for Christes sake,And knowe your owne estate,Or ye be tardy take;Yea, lest it be to lateTo trust on hadd I wist,Imasked in a myst,—As good to ly bypist;For these his primates,Bysshops and prelates,And popeholy legates,With ther pild pates,Dare conquer[595]all estates:They do but as they will;For, be it good or ill,We must be muett still:Why lay men can not se,It is the more pite.

Alake, for Christes might,

These thinges go not arighte!

Oure lanterns give no lighte,

All bisshopps be not brighte:

They be so full of spyte,

They care not whom they byte,

Both frend and foo they smyte

Wyth prison, deth, and flighte;

So dayly they do fyght

To overturne the ryght:

So[526]we be in the plyte,

That, losing of oure sight,

We[527]know not black from whyght,

And be thus[528]blinded quyte,

We know not[529]day from nyght.

But, by my syres soule,

The true Apostell Paule

Wrott, as we may see

In Tyte and Tymothe,

Who should a bisshoppe be:

A man of holy liffe,

The husbonde of one wiffe;

That vseth not to strife,

Or strike with sworde or knyff,

Nor that at any tyme

Suspected is of cryme,

But wise and provident,

Colde and contynent,

But never vynolent;

That when he eat[530]or drinke,

Slepe, awake,[531]or winke,

Doth styll[532]on measure thinke,

And therof vse a messe,

To put away excesse,

Kepe[533]hyme lowe and chast;

That he make no wast

By prodigalite

Or sensualytye,

A waster for to be,

But, after his degree,

With liberallite

Kepe hospitallite;

He must be sadd and sage,

Vsinge non outrage,

But soberly with reason

To spende in tyme and season,

And so to kepe his meason;

He may in no wise streke,

But suffer and be meke,

Shamefast and discrete,

Temperat, dulce, and swete,

Not speakinge angerly,

But soft and manerly;

And, in any wise,

Beware of covetyse,

The rote of all ill vice;

He must be liberall,

And thanke oure Lorde of all;

And, as a heerde his sheepe,

His childer must he kepe,

And all his family

In vertu edyfy,

Vnder disciplyne

Of holsome doctryne,

With dew subiection,

That non obiection

Be made vnto his heste[534]

Of most or of leste;

For thus he doth conclude,

As by simylitude,

Howe he that cane not skill

His housholde at his will

To governe,[535]rule, and teche,

Within his power and reach,

Oughte to haue no speache

Of cure and diligence,

Of suche premynence,

Within the churche of God;

And eke it is forbode

That he no novice be,

Lest with superbite

He do presume to hye,

And consequently

Fall vnhappely

Into the frenesy

Of pride and of evyll,[536]

Lyke Lucyfer, the devyll;[537]

For he playnly writes,

That of these neophites,

And pevishe proselites,

Springe vpp ipocrites;

A bisshoppe eke must haue,

His honesty to save,

Of all men such a name,

That his outwarde fame

Be clene from any blame,

Impeched with no shame,

To draw all people in,

They may repent of synne,

And so[538]he may them wynne,

That thei fall not vnware[539]

Into[540]the devils snare.

Thus Paule, as ye may se,

Taughte Tyte and Tymothe,

Who should a bisshoppe be:

And Christ oure maister dere,

While he lyved here,

Full poorly did appere,

Mekely borne and bredd;

The bare earth was his bedd,

For where to hele his headd,

Or where to lye and rest,

He had no hole nor nest;

But in great poverty

He lyved soberly,

His worde to multyply;

And thus did edifye

His churche that is so holy,

Suppressinge synne and foly:

But not with friska ioly,

As somme do nowe a dayes,

That haue so many wayes

All maner[541]gaynes to reape,

Ther tresures one a heap

To gather and to kepe,

By pillinge of his shepe,

Not forsyng who do wepe,

And to his flocke repayre

As it were to a ffayre;

To sit in Peters chayer

With pride and ambition,

Sowyng great sedition;

And by superstition

Blinde vs with remission,

By bulles vnder led,

To serve both quicke and dead;

And by that way pretend

To clyme vpp and ascend

That Lucifer did discend.

I thinke that suche frykars

Be not Christes vickars,

But crafty intrycars,

And pryvy purse pykars;

For they that be sekars

Of stores newe and olde,

May perceyve and beholde

Howe euery thinge is solde

For sylver[542]and for golde:

The craft[543]can not be told,

What is and hath bene done

By Antychryst[544]of Rome;

For thens[545]the sourdes springe

Of every naughty thinge,

Hide vnderneth the whynge

Of the Sire of Synne;

At whom I will begynn

Somwhat for to speake,

And playnly to intreate

Of this farly freake,

That sitteth in his seat,

Devouringe synne as meatte,

Whiche he and his do eate

As they may catch and geate:[546]

They spare not to devower

Cyty, towne, and tower,

Wherat no man may lower;

For be it swete or sower,

Or be it good or yll,

We must be muett still,

The lustes to fulfill

Of that cocodryll,

Which at his[547]only will

May ech man[548]save or spyll.

This wicked man of warr

So hault is that he darr,

As he lyste,[549]make and marr,

His owne lawe to prefarr

Aboue the worde of God;

It passeth Godes forbod

That ever it should be;

A man to clyme so hy,

By reason of his see,

To clayme auctoritye

Aboue the Deyte,

It is to hy a bost,

And synne one of the most

Ageynst the Holy Gost,

That is not remissable:

For as for the Bible,

He taketh it for a ridle,

Or as a lawles lible,

Which, to the hy offence

Of his conscience,

He dare therwith dispence,

And alter the sentence;

For wher God do prohibitt,

He doth leve exhibite,

And at his[550]lust inhybyte;

And wher God doth commaunde,

Ther he doth countermaunde;

After his owne purpose

The best text to turne and glose,

Like a Welshe manes hose,

Or lyke a waxen nose:

But wyse[551]men do suppose

That truth shall[552]judge and trye,

For lyars can but lye.

He is so hault and taunt,

That he dare hyme avaunt

All erthly men to daunt;

And faynes to give and graunt,

In heaven above or hell,[553]

A place wherin to dwell,

As all his lyars tell,

Which he doth dayly sell,

After his devise,

If men come to his prise;

It is his marchaundyse;

For, as ye will demaunde,

He can and may commaunde

A thowsande, in a bande,

Of angells out of heaven,

To come throughe the leven,

And make all thinge even,

His biddinges to obey,

Which beares the greatist swaye,

Your soules to convey

Frome all decaye

Out of the fendes wey;

But provided alwey,

That ye first mony paye;

At the appoynted daye

Ye present, if it maye;

Then,[554]vnder thi petycion,

Thou gettest true remyssion,[555]

From synnes the absolution,

By this his owne commyssion,

By bryve or els by bull,

To fill his coffers full;

Ye may aske what ye wull.

Alas, ye be to dull

To se this lorde of losse,

The fo of Christes crosse,

This hoore of Babilon,

And seede of Zabulon,

The enemy of Christ,

The devels holy pryst,

And very Antechrist,

To revell and to ride,

Like the prince of pride,

That of euery syde

Warres the worlde wyde,

Whom no strenghe may abide—

The devill be his guyde!

For loke in his decrees,

And ye shall finde out lyes,

As thik as swarme of byes,

That throughe the worlde flyes,

Making parsemonyes

Of Peters patrimonyes,

But great mercymonyes

Of his seremonyes,

To smodder vs with smoke:

For, when he wilbe wroke,

No man may bere his stroke;

So hevy is his yoke,

To Christes full vnlike,

That saide his yoke is swete,

His burthen lighte and meete

For all men that be meke,

To suffer and to bere,

Without drede or fere:

But Popes afterwarde,

That never[556]had regard

Which ende shoulde go forewarde,

Haue drawen vs bakwarde,

And made the yoke so harde

By false invented lawes,

As thoughe lay men were dawes,

And dome as any stone,

With sivile and canon

To serve God and Mammon;

Righte and wronge is one.

Serche his decretalles

And bulles papalles,

Et, inter alia,

Loke in hispalia

AndBacchanalia,[557]

With his extravagantes

And wayesvagarantes:

His lawesarrogantes

Be made by truwantes

That frame his finctions

Into distinctions,

With cloutes of clawses,

Questyons and cawses,

With Sext and Clementyne,

And lawes legantyne:

His county pallantyne

Haue coustome colubryne,

With codes viperyne

And sectes serpentyne:

Blinde be his stores

Of interogatores

And declaratores,

With lapse and relapse,

A wispe and a waspe,

A clispe and a claspe,

And his after[558]clappes;

For his paragraffes

Be no cosmograffes,

But vnhappy graffes,

That wander in the warrayne,

Fruteles and barayne,

To fede that foule carrayne,

And dignite papall;

With judges that scrape all,

And doctours that take all,

By lawes absynthyall

And labirynthyall:

His tabellions

Be rebellions;

His laweres and scribes

Live only by bribes;

His holy advocates

And judges diligates

Haue robbed all estates,

By many inventions

Of sundry suspentions,

Subtile subventions,

Crafty conventions,

Prevy preventions,

And evell exemptions;

So hath his indictions

And his interdictions,

With croked commyssions,

Colde[559]compromyssions,

Cursed conditions,

Hevy traditions,

Elvishe inibitions,

And redy remissions:

Then hathe he inductions

And colde conductions;

His expectatyves

Many a man vnthrives;

By his constitutions

And his subtitutions

He maketh institutions,

And taketh restitutions,

Sellinge absolutions,

And other like pollutions:

His holy actions

Be satisfactions

Of false compactions:

He robbeth all nations

With his fulminations,

And other like vexations;

As with abiurations,

Excomunycations,

Aggravations,

Presentations,

Sequestrations,

Deprivations,

Advocations,

Resignations,

Dilapidations,

Sustentations,[560]

Adminystrations,

Approbations,

Assignations,

Alterations,

Narrations,

Declarations,

Locations,

Collocations,

Revocations,

Dispensations,

Intimations,

Legittimations,

Insinuations,

Pronunttiations,

Demonstrations,

Vacations,

Convocations,

Deputations,

Donations,

Condonations,

Commynations,

Excusations,[561]

Declamations,

Visitations,

Acceptations,

Arrendations,

Publications,

Renunttiations,

Fatigations,

False fundations,

And dissimulations,

With like abbominations

Of a thowsand fasshions:

His holy vnions

Be no communyons:

His trialitees

And pluralytyes

Be full of qualitees;

His tottes and quottes

Be full of blottes:

With quibes and quaryes

Of inventataries,

Of testamentaries,

And of mortuaries,

By sutes of appeales,

And by his[562]ofte repeales,

He oure mony steales.

I speake not of his sessions,

Nor of his confessions

Olde and avricular,

Colde and caniculer;

Howe the cubiculer,

In the capitular,

With his pylde[563]spitler,

Playde the knavyculer

Vnderneth a[564]wall:

I may not tell youe all,

In termes speciall,

Of pardon nor of pall,

Nor of confessionall;

For I feare, yf[565]he call

The sentence generall,

I mighte so take a fall,

And haue his bitter curse,[566]

And yett be not the wurse,

Save only in my purse,

Because I shoulde be fayne

To by my state agayne

Ex leno vel ex lena,

Aut pellice obscœna,

Res certe inamœna:[567]

Papisticorum scena,

Malorum semper plena;

For all the worlde rounde

He falsely doth confounde

By lawes made and founde,

By thyr devyse vnsownde,

With no[568]steadfast grounde,

But with fayned visions

And develyshe devisions,

With basterde religions:

Thus this cursed elfe,

To avaunce his pelfe,

Falsely fayne[s] hymeself

To besemideus:

No, youe Asmeodeus,

Ye are Amoreus,

The sonne of Chanaan;

O thou monstrous man,

And childe of cursed Chan,

Arte thou halfe god, halfe man?

Gup, leviathan,

And sonne of Sattan,

The wormeletophagus,

And sire to Symonde Magus!

O porter Cerberus,

Thou arte so monstrous,

Soo made and myschevous,

Proude and surquedrous,

And as lecherous

As Heliogabalus

Or Sardanapalus!

Hatefull vnto God,

And father of all falsehoode,

The poyson of prestoode,

And deth of good knighthoode,

The robber of riche men,

And murderer of meke men,

The turment of true men

That named be newe men,

The prince of periury,

And Christes enemy,

Vnhappy as Achab,

And naughty as Nadab,

As crafty as Caball,

And dronken as Naball,

The hope of Ismaell,

And false Achitofell,

The blissinge of Bell,

And advocate of hell;

Thou hunter Nembroth,

And Judas Iscarioth,[569]

Thou bloody Belyall,

And sacrifise of Ball,

Thou elvishe ipocrite,

And naughty neophite,

Thou pevishe proselite,

And synefull Sodymite,

Thou gredy Gomorrite,

And galefull[570]Gabaonite,

Tho[u] hermofrodite,

Thou arte a wicked sprite,

A naughty seismatike,

And an heritike,

A beestely bogorian,[571]

And devill meridian,

The patrone of proctors,

And dethe of trewe doctours,

The founder of faytors,

And trust of all traytours,

The shender of sawes,

And breaker of lawes,

The syre of serdoners,

And prince of pardoners,

The kinge of questors,

And rule of regestors,

The eater of frogges,

And maker of goddes,

The brother of brothells,

And lorde of all losells,

The sturrur of stoores,

And keper of hoores

With gloriouse gawdes,

Amonge trusty bawdes,

The father of foles,

And ignoraunce of scoles,

The helper of harlettes,

And captayne of verlettes,

The cloke of all vnthriftes,

And captayne of all caytifes,

The leader of truwantes,

And chefe of all tyrauntes,

As hinde as an hogge,

And kinde as any dogge,

The shipwrake of Noye,—

Christ saue the and Sainct Loy!

Arte thou the hiest pryst,

And vicar vnto Christ?

No, no, I say, thou lyest:

Thou arte a cursed crekar,

A crafty vppcrepar;

Thou arte the devils vicar,

A privye[572]purse pikar,

By lawes and by rites

For sowles and for sprites:

O lorde of ipocrites,

Nowe shut vpp your wickettes,

And clape to your clickettes,—

farewell, kinge of crekettes!

For nowe the tyme falles

To speake of cardinalles,

That[573]kepe ther holy halles

With towres and walles:

Be they not carnalles,

And lordes infernalles?

Yea, gredy carmalles,

As any carmarante;

With ther coppentante

They loke adutante:

For soth, men say they be

Full of iniquite,

Lyvinge in habundance

Of all worldly substance,

Wherin they lodge and ly,

And wallowe beasteally,

As hogges[574]do in a stye,

Servinge ther god, ther belly,

With chuettes and with gelly,

With venyson and with tartes,

With confytes and with fartes,[575]

To ease ther holy hartes.

They take ther stations,

And make dyambulations

Into all nations,

For ther visitations,

Callinge convocations,

Sellinge dispensations,

Givinge condonasions,

Makinge permutations,

And of excomunycations

Sell they relaxations;

For they, in ther progresse,

With Katern, Mawde, and Besse,

Will vse full great excesse,

Withowt any redresse;

And all men they oppresse

In syty, towne, and village;

From olde and yong of age

They robbe[576]and make pyllage,

Thyr lusts for to aswage,

Which they extorte by mighte

As in the churches righte;

They may not lese a fether:

But God, that lyveth ever,

Graunt that they never

Haue power to come hether!

For wher they ones arive,

So cleane they do vs shryve,

That I swere by my life,

The contry ther shall thrive

Yeres tenn and ffive

After them[577]the worse:

Men give them Godes curse

To shute within ther purse;

Both lernyd and lewde

Wolde they were beshrewed,

They never mighte come nere

For to visitt here,

Altho they haue sotch chere

As they cann well desyre,

And as they will requier;

For why, it doth appere,

The hartes ar sett on fyer

Of[578]chanon, monke, and fryer,

That daylye dothe aspyre,[579]

By bulles vnder ledd,

How they should be fedd;

It is therfore great skill

That every Jacke and Gyll

Performe[580]the Popes will,

Hys[581]purse and panch to ffill;

For, as I erst haue tolde,

There lyves not suche a scolde

That dare ons be[582]so bold,

From shorne ne yet from polde,

Nor[583]monye, meate, nor golde,

From soch men[584]to withholde,

Ther favour boughte and solde,

That take a thowsand ffolde

More then that Judas did:

The trouth can not be hid;

For it is playnly kid

Judas for his dispense

Sold Christ for thirty pense,

And did a foule offence,

His Lorde God so to tray;

And they in likewise say,

After Judas way,

What will ye give and pay,

As the matter falles,

For pardonnes and for palles,

And for confessionalles?

We may have absolucions

Without restytutyons,

And at oure owne election

Passe without correction,

Besydes Christes passion

To make satisfaction;

We feare for non offence,

So they haue recompence:

By great audacitees

They graunt capacitees;

For heaven and for hell

They mony take and tell:

So thus they by and sell,

And take therof no shame,

But laughe and haue good game,

To all oure souls bane:

God helpe, we be to blame

Sutch lordes to defame;

Yett, by the common fame,

Some bisshops vse the same,

In Christes holy name

Soules to sell and bye:

My mynde is not to lye,

But to write playnlye

Ageynst ipocresye

In bisshopp or in other,

Yea, thoughe it were my brother,

My father or my mother,

My syster or my sonne;

For, as I haue begonne,

I will, as I haue donne,

Disclose the great outrage

That is in this Image;

For[585]he that feles the pricke,

And theron groweth sycke,

May with the gald horse kike;

For, as I erst haue said,

Oure bisshops at a brayd

Ar growne so sore afrayde,

And in[586]the world so wide

Do vse sutch pompe and pride,

And rule on euery syde,

That none may them abide:

Of no[587]prince, lord, nor duke,

They take will a rebuke;

All lay men they surmount,

Makinge non accompte,

Nor cast no reckonynge

Scarcely of a kinge:

This is a wonder[588]thinge;

They stande so suer and fast,

And be nothinge agast;[589]

For that blody judge

And mighty sanguisuge,

The Pope that is so huge,

Is ever ther refuge;

So be the cardinalles

Ther suer defence and walles,

With whom they stifly stande

By water and by lande,

To gett the overhande

Of all the world rounde,

Wher profitt may be founde:

They be so many legions,

That they oppresse regions

With boke, bell, and candell,

Any kinge to handell,

As they haue many one:

For triall herevpon

I take of good Kinge John,

Whom by the bitinge

Of ther subtill smytinge,

First by acytinge,

And after interditinge,

By fulmynations

Of excommunications;

For by ther holy poores

They stored vpp stoores,[590]

And kepte suche stvrre with hores,

And shut vpp all churche doores

For ther princely pleasure,

They lyve so owt of measure,

Till they might haue leasure,

Ther lieg lorde and kinge

So base and lowe to bringe;

Which was a pyttevs thyng,

That he with wepinge yees,

Bowinge backe and thies,

And knelinge on his knees,

Must render vpp his fees,

With kingly dignytees,

Septer, crowne, and landes,

Into ther holy handes:

Alas, howe mighte it be

That oure nobilitee

Could then no better se?

For theyrs was the fault

Oure prelates were so haulte;

Their strength then was to seke

Ther liege lorde to kepe;

They durst not fight ne strike,

They feared of a gleke,

That, no day in the weke,

For any good or cattell,

Durst they go to battell,

Nor entre churche ne chappell

In syxe or seven yere,

Before Christ to appere,

And devine seruice here

In any hallowed place,

For lacke of ther good grace;

Ther was no tyme nor space

To do to God seruice,

But as they wolde devise;

Their lawes be so sinystre,

That no man durst minystre

The holy sacrementes

Till they hadd ther intentes

Of landes and of rentes,

By lawes and by lyes;

To inriche ther sees,

The blind men eat vpp flees;

For by ther constitutions

They toke restitutions

Of cyties and of castells,

Of townes and bastells,

And make ther prince pike wastells,

Till they rang out the belles,

And did as they wold elles,

Like traytours and rebelles,

As the story telles.

But Jesu Christ hymeself,

Nor his appostells twelffe,

Vnto that cvrsyd elfe

Did never teach hym[591]so

In any wise to do,

For lucre or advayle,[592]

Ageynst thyr kyng to rayle,

And[593]lieg lorde to assayle,

Within his owne lande

To put hym vnder bande,

And take brede of his hande:

The Lorde saue sutch a flock

That so could mowe and mock

To make ther kinge a block,

And eke ther laughinge stocke!

They blered hym with a lurche,

And said that he must wurche

By counsell of the churche;

Wherby they ment nothinge

But to wrest and wringe,

Only for to bringe

Ther liege lorde and kinge

To be ther vnderlinge:

Alas, who euer sawe

A kinge vnder awe,

Ageynst all Gods lawe,

All righte and consience,

For doinge non offence

To make sutch recompence?

They gave ther lorde a laske,

To purge withall his caske,

And putt hym to no taske,

But as they wold hyme aske:

This was a midday maske,

A kinge so to enforce

With pacyence perforce.

Take hede therfore and watche,

All ye that knowe this tatche,

Ye make not sutch a matche;

Loke forth, beware the katche,

Ye fall not in the snatche

Of that vngratiovs pacthe,

Before the rope hym racthe,

Or Tyburne dothe hym strache.

But who so[594]preache or prate,

I warne youe, rathe and late

To loke vpp and awake,

That ye do never make

Your maister nor your mate

To sytt withowt your gate;

Take hede, for Christes sake,

And knowe your owne estate,

Or ye be tardy take;

Yea, lest it be to late

To trust on hadd I wist,

Imasked in a myst,—

As good to ly bypist;

For these his primates,

Bysshops and prelates,

And popeholy legates,

With ther pild pates,

Dare conquer[595]all estates:

They do but as they will;

For, be it good or ill,

We must be muett still:

Why lay men can not se,

It is the more pite.

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