A Balad Intituled, the Dekaye of the Duke.
You see by good Triall, what coms of the Duke,
Turne yet to the Diall, of Gods holie Booke,
O Ʋr people of England that hold with the Pope,
May see the prefermentes that folowe the same,
The highest and lowest, hee bringes to the Rope,
And straungers and Tyrantes do laugh at the game.
You see by good triall, what coms of the Duke
Turne yet to the Diall of Gods holie Booke.
¶ Thus are we still spoyled of honor and fame,
By Prelats that practise to poyson vs all,
The Pope is the Pestilence, and Roome hath the name,
Wher with we come witlesse to westminster hall.
You see by good triall, what coms of the Duke
Turne yet to the Diall of Gods holye Booke.
¶ The Duke had great fauor with Justice attayned,
But of an ill matter what could be decreed,
For Lordes of great Honor where he was arayned,
Had proofe to apparant, of manie fowle deed.
You see by good triall. &c.
¶ Not trifles, but Treasons, so manie deuised,
As all the world wondred such venom to heare,
In letters, and answers, and writinges comprised,
No waye to be constred to set the Duke cleare.
You se by good triall. &c.
¶ Put of your oppinnion, of all his proceadinge,
Ipocrisie cloked, coms neuer to good,
I thinke all the Lawiers were werie of readinge,
And all the hole people in stormes as they stoode,
You see by good triall. &c.
¶ To tell the hole treatise, the tale were to longe,
Against the good Ladie, our Queene that now raignes
How manie deuises to do her grace wronge,
By Pope holie practise, were pact in his braines.
You see by good triall. &c.
¶ And then to his countrey, what sequell ensued,
Alas to apparant, the perrill drewe nie,
In blood to the elboes we had bin embrewed,
Which God hath forbidden, that gouernes the skye.
You see by good triall. &c.
¶ The Duke or his doinges what more shall I tell ye,
But God of his goodnes yet giue him some grace,
For in myne oppinnion you papistes I smell ye,
You are yet to manie that hold with the case,
You see by good triall. &c.
¶ Whose Rumors yet roaring can hardlie be still,
A Canckred condicion in kaytiffes vnkinde,
The deuill now doubteth he is dashed of his will,
Yet Babylon babyes will bragge to be blind.
You see by good triall. &c.
¶ When wantons thought worthie, once stand on the toppe
Theire steppes are so fickle they cannot stand still,
One legge in good fashion is better to hopp,
Then two legges at Randon to Ronne where ye will.
You see by good triall. &c.
¶ As pittie lamenteth the losse of his grace,
That once beinge Noble myght Noblie haue done
So triall tormentith that one in his place,
To Rebells and Riotes so rashlye woulde ronne.
You see by good triall. &c.
¶ But such as be seekers, to set all at square,
With straungers, and neyghbours, of horrible name,
Do shew by theyr Pitchers what Potters they are,
What Jolie compagnions of Catholique fame.
You see by good triall. &c.
¶ Welwillers are willinge to here and to see,
The good and the Godly regarders of Rule,
Ilwillers vnwillinge good quiet should bee,
As Scollers ware trewantes that loue not the scoole.
You see by good triall
¶ But neate with our blissinge, the brackes of our season,
There haue bin great warninges as this maye be one,
A Duke of highe honor, to fall to highe Treasen,
Both hee, and his honor, how soone they be gone.
You see by good triall &c.
¶ Wherfore it behoueth, as God doth aduaunce vs,
To honour, to fauor, to worshipp, or welth,
We are to consider, it maye so bechaunce vs,
To lose all together, good hap, and good helthe.
You see by good triall.
¶ Wherfore to our dueties, we are bound to applye,
Our Queene and our countreye to honor and praise,
Content to liue loe, but if ye ware hie,
To liue within lawe, and lengthen our dayes.
You see by good triall. &c.
¶ God prosper the Queene, her Nobles and frendes,
Her subjectes assured, of euerie degree,
And God of his goodnes showen the endes,
Of all her offenders, if anie more bee.
¶ Finis.
(qd.)
quod W. Elderton.