An answere to maister Smyth seruaunt to the kynges most royall maiestye. And clerke of the Quenes graces counsell / though most vnworthy.
¶ Whether ye trolle in or els trolle out
ye trolle vntruly / loke better about.
WHere as of late two thinges ye parused
Concerning the treason of Thomas Crumwell
Vndoutedly both your wyt and your syght were confused
Lackyng a medecyne / blyndnesse to expell
Put on your spectacles and marke it well
Than shall you se / and say / maugre your hart
That trolle in / hath played a true subiectes part
❧ For where as trolle a way (as ye say) tolde trouth
Declaring the offences / wherin Crumwell offended
It was not the thyng / wherwith troll in was wroth
For in that poynt / Troll in / Troll away commended
But this was the mater / wherfore they contended
Trolle away / vnder pretence of trollyng against treason
Practised proude popery / as appereth by reason.
☞ And ye supporting the same / your pen runneth at large
Boldly as blynde bayerd / ye write in his defence
And in your myscheuous maner / ye lay falsly to my charge
Sayeng / who that craftely coloureth any others offence
Of lykelyhode in his owne hert / hath the same pretence
But here ye speke of lykelyhode / and so blyndly go by gesse
your fondnesse is the folyssher / and my faute is the lesse.
¶ An horse beyng nothing galled / of force ye may make to kycke
With spurryng and with prickinge / more than reason wolde requyre
But if the horse were lustye / coragious and also quycke
ye might be the fyrst perchaunce / that might lye in the myre
As wyse as ye / haue ben drowned in their owne desyre
Many a man / anothers mischefe / of malyce wyll prepare
And yet him selfe the fyrst / that is caught in the snare.
¶ Bycause of making stryfe (ye say) ye wyll take neither parte
But here ye breke promyse / for agaynst all reason and right
Ve illi per qem scandalū uenit, Luce, xvij.
Speking with your mouth / that you thinke not with your harte
Agaynst trolle in / ye take trolle awayes parte / with all your myght
Thus all thinges lyghtly that ye make / amonge them selues do fyght
Wherfore whatsoeuer ye write or saye / gretly it shall not skyll
For if ye speke any thing wysely / I thinke it be agaynst your wyll.
¶ But blyndly haue ye sclaundred me / good maister Thomas Smyth
Scraping togither scriptures / your madnesse to mayntayne
Truly your rude rowsty reason / being so farre from the pyth
Had nede of suche a cloke / to kepe it from the rayne
For all the worlde may perceyue / how falsly ye forge and fayne
Yet styll you affyrme your falshed / as though ye knew thinges presysely
Christes blessyng on your hert / forsoth ye haue done full wysely.
¶ Ye rumble amonge the scryptures / as one that were halfe mad
Wrestyng and writhyng them / accordyng to your owne purpose
Facyonyng and framyng them / to your sayenges good and bad
Lyke as the holy Papystes / were wont to paynt their popysshe glose
Do ye take the holy scripture to be lyke a shypmans hose?
Nay nay / although a shypmans hose / wyll serue all sortes of legges
yet Christes holy scrypture / wyll serue no rotten dregges.
☞ Counsell with some tayler / whan that ye wryte nexte
Take measure of diuinyte / before ye cut the facyon
So shall ye square your scryptures / and the better trym your texte
And than shall men of lernyng / commende your operacyon
But howe shulde he be connyng / that knoweth not his occupacyon
Howe shuld a cobler cut a core / or a smyth tast good wyne
Or how shulde you scarsely a clerke / be nowe a good deuyne?
❧ What lyuyng man (excepte it were you) beynge in his right wyttes
Wolde write as ye haue written / and all not worth a myte
I thinke it be some peuysshe pange / that cometh ouer your hert by fyttes
Vnder the coloure of charyte / to worke your cruell spyte
If men wolde marke your madnesse / and beholde your deuelyssh delyte
Shuld se how ye wrest y
e scriptures to your sayēg / not worth .ii. chippes
And ioyne them all togither / as iust as Germans lyppes.
¶ Whan ye haue spytte your poyson / and sayde euen the worst ye can
Than come ye in with charite / wyllyng all stryfe to cease
But surely good maister Smyth / ye speke lyke a mery man
Moche lyke a comen pyke quarell / that stryfe wolde encrease
Continually cryeng in frayes / holde / kepe the kynges pease
But those be prety peace makers / in dede for euery daye
That styll bestowe mo strokes / than they that began the fraye.
☞ What wyse man wolde not laugh / for to here you bragge and boste
Of your name / your seruyce / of your offyce and all this gere
Qui se laudat stercore
coronabit,
As though ye were prymrose perelesse / and a ruler of the rosteBy the declaryng wherof / ye thinke to put pore men in fere
But your braggyng and your bostyng / shall neyther be here nor there
As longe as I may indifferently / be suffred to vse my pen
ye shall neuer be able to face me out / with a carde of ten.
❧ A wyse man wolde haue praysed god / and than prayed for the kyng
The which of their gret goodnesse / to your offyce dyd you call
And not to haue bragged therof / and than put it out in printyng
For ye stande not yet so sure / but it is possyble ye may fall
And though your offyce be great / I trust your power be but small
Or els parchaūce ye wold quickly thurst a poore man amōg the thornes
But god almyghty prouydeth well to sende a shrewde cow short hornes.
¶ Christ preserue the kynges most noble grace / & sende him longe lyfe
Euen Henry the eight (next vnder god) of this church / the hed supreme
Christ preserue & kepe quene Katheryn / his most lawfull wyfe
Christ preserue Prince Edwarde / the very right heyre of this realme
Christ styll ensence their noble counsell / with the influence of heauen
Christ for his tendre mercy / amende all thing that is a mys
Christ sende maister Smyth more charite / whan his good pleasure is.
¶ Amen.
W.G.
☞ By me a poore man whose herte if ye knewe
Wolde be the kynges seruaunt as fayne as you.