All slouthfull sleape let vs refuse To vertuous workes let vs be beat Let vs commyt our selues to Christ Wyth thankes prayse him first to serue Whyche dothe out deadly foes resyst And from all dangers vs preserue And then thys type se that you mynde That lyke as you in nyght doo rest And in the mornyng your selues fynde Awake and redy to be brest So shall our bodyes slepe by death And after be to lyfe restorde When Christ shall come restore breth And Iudge vs all as sayth his worde Then mekely let vs hym desyre That it may be hys blessed wyll That we thys day may well aspire By grace his seruyce to fulfyll So that we may do hurt to none Nor of none other hurt receaue But styll be kept by Christe alone That Sathan neuer vs deceaue But styll in christen godlynes By grace we may our selues prepare Of all offence and wyckednes For to escape the nette or snate Thys graunt vs Lord omnipotent For Christ his sake our mercy seate That we may tast ioyes permanent Before thy throne of glory great Amen ¶ A ditie to be sung at nyght when men go to bed Syng this as In sommer time when flowres gan spryng c. NOwe that the day is wasted cleane And Phebus dothe hym self absent And Hesperus dothe downward leane And lurkyng nyght with darknes bent Her mantle darke abrode to spreade And hyde from vs the welkyn cleare The starres also are prepared With glystryng lyght nowe to appeare Therfore of force we must nedes yelde In bed to sleape and take our rest Forsakyng cleane both strete and field And other workes bothe most and least Wherfore to Christ now let vs call In thys our nede vs to assist From drede and feare and dangers all Defend our sely soules O Christ O Lord defend vs wyth thy grace In thys our nede when we do slepe Syth we are able at no space Ourselues from dangers small to keepe O Lord that styll hast wakyng eyes And knowst no sleape nor felest nyght Out humble sute do not despyse But vs defende now by thy myght Defende vs wyth thy grace and powre To helpe our selues syth we ne can Nor haue no strength at any howre The same to doo so weake is man O let thy powre out feblenes Wyth helpe of grace this nyght supply O way our myserablenes And comfort vs wyth thy mercy O let vs then with mynde contrit With prayse and prayer to Iesus Lye downe to rest and so commyt Our selues to hym that saueth vs. O Lord forgeue vs all our synne And plant true fayth wythin our brest And after cares that we are in Let vs ones tast eternall rest Amen ¶ A ditie to be sung at dyner tyme and meales Syng thys as If truth may take no trusty holde c. AS roote of tree dothe of the grounde Take moysture named radicall And causeth branches to abounde Wyth that he geues them ouer all And suffreth no small twyg to want But naturally doth dispose Suche as he hath plentie or scant Vnto the nutriment of those As Nature by thys industry Dothe cause thynges vegitall to grow In other sort shee dothe apply On animals good to bestowe Among the whych we men mortall That formed are to Gods Image Wyth meate and drynke nutrimentall We maintaynde are from age to age The myghty maker of all thynges Hys creatures leaues not destitute An that they haue is hys geuyng As well to man as beastes brute Leste therfore we appere vnkynde Vnto this God that all dothe sende To prayse his name with thankful mynd And gratfull harts now let vs bende Let vs not one morcell receyue Wyth forgetfull ingratitude Least to our owne lustes god vs leaue More wretched then brute beastes rude Ne yet let vs in any wyse Forget the nedy brethern poore The sycke and lame do not despyse Nor hym that goes from doore to doore For God hath made vs ministers That one an others nede should serue Wherfore we are but murderers If in our fault our neyghbours sterue And may be to that dogge comparde That lay vpon an heape of haye Spying the oxe come thitherwardâ— Wyth barkyng draue the same away Whyche nedes must be churly she enuy Syth he hym selfe no haye could eate To stand at baye so frowerdly And kepe the poore oxe from hys meate Let vs therfore doo otherwyse And from our bellies somwhat spare In loue to shewe some exercyse To brethern poore that nedy are For who so to the poore dooth geue Dothe lend to God on vsury And shall receyue for hys releue Great gayne agayne abundantly To hym therfore most gratefully Geue honour glory thankes and prayse To hym as one in Trinitie All honour be nowe and all ways ¶ An other to the same purpose Syng thys as Heare out O Lord the ryght request c. VVHen ye take foode at any tyme Your bodyes to refreshe with ought Remember Gods infynite powre Which all hath made formde of nought Remember eke his prudent reygne His mercy and benignitie Who all his workes doth aye susteyne And gouerne styll continually And consequently call to mynde Hys clemency and great mekenes Whych all creatures dothe fede fynde Yea hys most foes in theyr dystresse Pander also the great meruayle How many great gyftes he ordeynes Sufficient foode and all victayle For all that this whole world conteines Haue mynde how fast we do declynâ—e How apt we are styll to decay Whiche only he by powre diuine Preserues els were we gone away No mans wysedom nor angell bryght Were able this to take in hand In any wyse or thyng more lyght The way howe once to vnderstande Sythe of hys gyftes therfore we lyue Were it not cursed vnkyndnes That we due praise shold hym not geue Oh hatefull vile vnthankfulnes At thy table let sobernesse And wysedome be wyth talke most chast Myndyng styll his pure holynes Whose gyftes this time in hand thou hast Let bytter wordes and backbytyng From thy table secluded be Hys loue to thee rememberyng Whole kyndnes is great towardes thee This place therfore contaminate Not wyth dysprayse of any man Syth thou feciste here for thyne estate Gods fauour that no wyght want can Let therfore here no hate appere Where God so greatly shewes his loue But rather loue thy brother dere As gods great giftes here doo the moue Lorde graunt vs grace for euermore That we thy mercyes so muche mynde That hatred our heartes may abhore And neuer shewe our selues vnkynde Amen ¶ An other grace ALl folke that lyue in lyuely fayth Confesse wyth one accorde That all creatures are fed of God And prayse therfore the Lorde Lest then we shewe ingratitude And mere vnthankfulnesse By lawe of loue graft in our heartes Let vs our fayth expresse And prayse the Lord for thys our foode Here present to vs sent And for our helth whyche he to vs Mercyfully hath lent And for hys worde to fede our soules We also ought
hearde The prayse of men whiche they desyre Is only their rewarde But at suche tyme as thou wylt praye Into thy chamber go A faythfull and a contrite harte Prayer must Issue fro And when thou hast closed thy dore And shut out wordly care And vayn thoughtes of this wretched worlde Thy prayer then declare Vnto thy god and father dere Whiche is in secrete still Seing the bothom of eche harte Eche thought eche worke and wyll Whoe will rewarde thee in such wise That it shall well appere That he hath heard thy hartes requeste Moste lyke a father dere But in thy prayer bable not With many wordes and vayne As Heathen men whiche thinke therby their purpose to obteyne It is the harte and not the lyppes Wherby thou mayste aspyre Thy sute to god for to attayne And to haue thy desyre The harte I saye both cleane and pure Must be the very meane For lips doe but prouoke gods wrath Where hartes be founde vncleane For god doth knowe before you speakâ— Your nede and all your lacke And wyll you kepe it you be iuste That nought shall goe to wracke And erre thou praye bethynke thy self Who did the hurt or greue Refrayne thy wrath in continent And louyngly forgeue If thou forgeue not other men Their trespasses and cryme Thinke not that god will thee forgeue Thy faultes at any time Contrariwyse if thou forgeue Suche as did the vnryght God by his promis wyll thee here And shewe the mercy bryght And where thou hast done any hurte It is not worth the whyle To praye before thou make amendes And thy selfe reconcyle But when thou art prepared thus In all pointes as I saye With pure harte in moste humble wyse On this sorte see thou praye Pater noster O Lorde that art our only god And father of vs all In heauen whiche arte resident To thee we crie and call Thy holy and thy blessed name That we may sanctifie Graunt that we may for euer vse The same reuer ently Oh let thy kyngdom downe descende And alwayes vs protecte That we may reigne in peace and ioye Whiche are thyne owne electe Thy worthy wyll let it be done Of worldly wretches here As it in heauen euer is Among thy saintes moste dere Our daily bread geue vs this daye Our bodies to susteyne And to our soules thy blessed worde Thy truthe styll to mainteyne Both for the body and the soule Relieue vs with thy store That we therby may taste thy grace This daye and euer more Our trespasses our great sinnes Redeme and clene forgeue As we forgeue and mercy take On them that doe vs greue O lorde into temptation Aboue our strengthe and powre Doe not leade vs at any tyme Least Sathan vs deuowre But with thy grace defende vs styll Let not thy goodnes cease But from all euylles vs defende Delyuer and release For onely to thee doth belonge The kyngdome very ryght The power and gloryous maiestie For euer so be it ¶ The abridgement of our Christen beleefe written as some suppose into .xii. Articles by the .xii. holy apostels of our sauiour Iesus Chryste THe .xii. Apostelles of Iesus our lorde After their holy preachyng a long tyme And settyng forth of goddes most holy worde Preaching repentaunce from al synne and cryme Yet not withstandinge all their dilygence Mistaking of goddes worde dyd make offence For many heresyes dyd then aryse And mysbeleâ—e in god our lorde aboue By mystakyng and worldely wyt lyke wise Whiche made from true fayth many to remoue For carnall reason walketh styll astray And vnto fayth dothe alwayes disobay These holy preachers therfore thinkinge best In this turmoyle to set order and staye Dyd then deuyse bothe vnto most and least Of true beleefe a breefe and perfect waye That all men might as well the younge as oâ—lde Sone lerne the same and in memory houlde Syth then the holy ghost hath taught vs thus It doth behoue that we dilygently Do learne the same to knowe and to discusse And kepe eche parte therof most faythfull Wherefore the summe of it I wyll reherse As here doth folowe in this kynde of verse Credo in deum patrem I Do beleue with stedfast true intent In God the father which is of all myght Who made heauen earth and al their whole content The nyght the day the darkenes and the lyght And I beleue in Iesus Christ our lorde Hys onely sonne thee uerlastyng worde Which of the holy ghost conceyued was And of the most pure virgyn Mary borne And vnder Ponce Pylat as came to passe Suffred and on the crosse was rente and torne And beyng dead was buryed in the ende And also downe into hell dyd descende And the thirde day accordyng to scripture He rose from death to perfect lyfe agayne And vp to heauen he ascended sure On god the fathers ryght hande to remayne Till at the last he once agayne shall come Both quicke and deade to iudge by rightfull dome I also beleue in the holy ghoste And in the church of chryst catholycall And of the sayntes the communion moste The forgeuenes of myne offences all And this our fleshe shall ryse agayne at last And I beleue eternall lyfe to taste Amen ¶ The songe of prayse and thankesgeuinge of blessed Mary the vyrgyn mother of our lorde and sauiour Iesus Chryst after the salutation of the Angell Gabriell and of Elizabeth mother of blessed Iohn baptist written Luke the j. Chapter Magnificat anima mea My soule truelye Shall magnifye The lorde and hym honour So shall my sprite Ioy and delyghte In god my sauyour Hys eyes he stayd On hys handmayde In poore and lowe degree And kinreds all From henceforth shall Knowe me blessed to be For he whose myght Excelleth ryght Hath exalted my â—ame Doynge to me Great thinges and hye And holy is is name His mercy sure Doth aye endure And doth not wast nor weare In kynredes all Continuall That do hym loue and feare He in his powre Hath at this howre His arme put forth at length The prowde abowght Bringeth to nowght What so their hartes inuenth He putteth downe From their renowme The mighty and the stronge And doth vp set In honour great The meeke that suffer wronge And he doth styll Both fede and fyll All those that hunger payne And doth them good When without foode The ryche empty remayne He hath in minde His mercy kynde His folke to helpe and saue His seruantes well Euen Israell That for his mercy craue As he like wise Dyd once promyse To Abraham before Our fathers olde that fayth dyd holde And their sede euermore Glory and prayse And laude alwayes Vnto the trynitie With one accorde Prayse we the lorde One god and personnes three As hath ben aye And at this daye Continueth as yet And shall extende Worlde without ende For euer so be it Finis ¶ The songe of prayse and thankes geuinge of holy Zachary father of Saynct Iohn baptist beinge restored to
Thou didst commauÌ„de straight it was Thy worde so strong we fynde Thyne holy sprite thou sentest out And strayght wayes it was made For nothyng can resist thy word Whiche dures and doth not fade For mountaynes they shall moued be With water from their springes And in thy sight harde thinges shal melt As wexe and liquid thynges And yet to them that doe thee feare Thy mercy doth extende From the fyrste tyme to this present And euer without ende Iob .i. OVt of my mothers wombe All naked came I loe And naked shall I turne agayne To earth that I came fro The Lorde gaue at the fyrst As his good plesure was And at his wyll dyd take agayne As it is come to pas The lorde his holy name Be praysed nowe therfore As it hath bene as it is nowe And shall be euermore Prouerb xxx O Lord two thinges I the require that thou me not denie but that I may the frute therof receiue before I die The first shall be that vanitie Thou wilt from me restrayne And eke the lips that luste to lye To flatterglose and fayne The seconde that thou make me not To poore in any wyse Ne yet to riche but meane lyuyng Of necessary cyse Least when I am to full of welth I thee forget and saye What felowe is the lorde when I Forgotten haue thy waye And lyke wyse least that pouertie Constrayne me out of frame And me prouoke to steale O God And to forsweare thy name Ecclesiasticus .xxiii. ¶ Syng this as I am the man whome God c. OH lorde I the desyre Of thyne abundant grace That pryde scornefull countenance Appeare not in my face Thy goodnes nowe extend Oh for thy mercies sake Disdeyne and all doluptuousnes Witsafe from me to take The fylthy fleshly lustes That to our bodies leane Destroye therof the fyery rage And make me chaste and cleane Of pitie oh good Lorde Extincte in me this fyre And let my mynde be mundifyd Of eche vncleane desyre Oh leaue me not I saye To myne owne lust and wyll Thyne ayde doe not from me withdrawe But be my succour styll Least wanting of thy helpe I runne in error blynde And fall into vnshamfastnes And obstinate of mynde Oh be thou my fortres That I may prayse thy name So shall I other men exhort Also to doe the same ¶ The songe of Esechia Ego dixi in dimidio c. Esaie .xxxviii. ¶ Syng this as I am the man whomâ— God c. VNto the gates of hell I wente I should haue wende Amid my days wheÌ„ as I thought My yeres were at an ende With in my selfe I sayde I neuer shall agayne Visite the Lorde the lorde I saye In this lyfe whyle I reigne I neuer loke agayne Before men to appeare Nor to beholde no worldly wyghtes That haue their dwellyng heare Myne age is folded vp Together at this daye As one should from the shepeherd poore His cottage take away And through my synnes my lyfe Is cut of and vndo As when the weuers worke is done His webbe he cuttes ato This pynyng sycknes wyll My lyfe in sunder rende For in one daye I well perceyuâ— My lyfe shall haue an ende Vntyll to morowe yet I thought to lyue so long But he my bones hath brused sorâ— Moste lyke a gyant strong For in one daye thou wylt Myne ende brynge on me lo As swalowes chatter in their laye Then gan I to doe so I cried lyke the crane And morned as the doue Directyng euer more myne eyes On hyght to hym aboue O lord then sayde I tho This sycknes doth me presse O ease thou me for in thy powre It is the same to ceasse What shall I saye the lorde His proâ—â—s made to me And he hym selfe performed hath The same as we may see All whyle I lyue therfore It shall not from my mynde My bytter life and howe therin I founde hym good and kynde Beyonde their yeres I see O lorde that men may lyue Whiche I to all men wyll declare And knowledge wyll them gyue In those prolonged yeres Howe I in ioye doe reigne And that thou causedst me to slepe And gaue me lyse agayne My pensiâ—nes beholde As bytter was as gall And for my health I longed sorâ— Out of that wofull thrall Thy pleasure was to saue Me from the filthy lake For thou O lorde hast all my sinnes Out trowne behinde thy backe For hell geues thee no prayse Nor death magnificence And in their graue none praise thy truth That parted be from hence The lorde hath wrought my health Our songes we therfore sure Wyll alwayes synge within thy house Whyle our lyfe dayes indure Ieremie .ix. ¶ Syng this as I am the man whome God c. O Who wyll geue my head Of water perfecte store And to mine eyes a wel of teares To flow for euer more So should myne outward acte Expresse myne inwarde payne To wepe and wayle both nyght and day My people that are slayne Would God I had elswhere A cottage in some place That from the people I myght be A farre distance and space That I myght leaue my folke And be from their resorte Adulterers because they be And eke a shrynkyng sorte Lyke bowes they bende their tongues Wherwith they shoote out lyes And grow on earth for why the worlde Doth alwayes truthe despyse From wickednes they goe To wickednes agayne And wyll not knowe me sayth the lorde Nor in my lawes remayne One from an other nowe Abstayn and shurnish muste For no man in his brother may With saftie put his truste Men doe their brethern seke To wrong and vnder mynde Disemblyng styll they practise guyle No truthe in them I fynde Their tongues they exercyse To lye and eke to fayne And mischiefe so they may commyt They force not for great payne Why doe I then remayne In this despitfull throng Whiche doe dissemble and nought els But falshod them among They wyll not knowe the lorde But wander styll awry Therfore thus sayth the lorde of hostes I wyll them melte and try For what should els be done To suche a people vyle Whose tongues are like to arowes sharpe To vtter fraude and guyle For with their mouthes they speake As though they ment but peace To hurte their neyghbour priuily Yet wyll they neuer cease Should I not punysh them For this thyng sayeth the lorde Or should not I aduenged be Of people so abhorde I shall them cause therfore On mountaynes to lament The desertes and the plesant playnes To mourning shall be bent For burned shall they be Their cattell and their store Of byrde or beaste there shall no voyce Be heard there any more Ieremie 17. ¶ Syng this as The sixt of Mathewe if ye reade c. O Lorde I shall be whole in dede It I be healed of the If thou witsafe nowe me to saue â–ª Then shall I saued be Thou arte my prayer and my prayse I haue none other forte To geue thee thankes
pitâ—ous crie And hath my lyfe restorde When I did syghe and crie And for redemption praye Thou heardst my voyce and turnedst not Thyne eares from me away Thy selfe thou didst inclyne Thy name when I dyd call And vnto me thus hast thou sayde Haue thou no feare at all For thou O lorde arte he That dyd my soule mayntayne And hast from death redemed me And gavst me lyfe agayne O lorde auenge my cause On them that me blaspheme Thou knowst how thei would worke me wâ— Against me what they meane Thou knowest lorde their spyghte And all that they inuent Against me what their lyps deuyse And their moste vyle intent Howe they syt downe and ryse O lorde thou doest beholde And how all day in songes on me They nothyng els but scoulde According to their workes Their rewarde them disburse And geue them that their harâ—es doe feare That is to saye thy curse O lorde persecute them With indignation From vnder heauen roote them out And leaue of them not one Oseas .xiiii. O Lord our God we turne to the thy word we doe embrace Forgeue vs our iniquitie receyue vs vnto grace To offer then in Godly wyse Shall be out whole intent Our lyps the lyvly sacrifice Of prayse shall the present To man for helpe and fortitude We wyll not seke therfore And strength of horse we wyll conclude To trust in them no more The workes eke that our handes dyd make That vayn are must fall We doe determine to forsake No more on them to call For it is thou that art our God And euer shalt remayne For mercy at thy fatherhod The fatherles attayne O that they would haue this remorâ—â— Sayth God and them conuert I would them heale of all their sores And loue them with mine hearâ—e My wrath I would from theÌ„ decline To them that I may be As dâ—w doth make the lylye shyne So beutifull to se Their roote lyke vnto Libanus Shall breake out of the ground And as the olyfe bewtious Their branches shall abound As Libanus so excellent Theyr swetnes shall excell Wherof as all men doe assent Ryght plesant is the smell For as the câ—rne vnder that tree Doth flory she well and growe So are they shadowed by me From hurte and ouerthrowe And as the growyng of the vyne So shall they spryng in dede Of Libanus as doth the wyne So shall their name excede Propose I wyll this thee vnto O Ephraim therfore From henceforth what haue I to doe With I dols any more I wyll thee heare and geue thee grace And leade thee forth aryght And I wyll be to thee lyke as The grene fyrre tree in syghte On me set thy foundation Whiche am to the so kynde Thy lyvly frutes then evry one Vpon me shalt thou fynde This vnderstand the godlywyse That repe for this rewarde The ryght instruct wyll exercyse The same with good regarde The lorde his wayes be iust and ryght The godly walke the same The wycked folke doe stumble guyte And fall out of the frame Ionas Cap. ii IN my trouble and payne to thee lord I did call my plaint thou heardest plain broughst me out of thrall Out of the womb of hell To the when I did crye My voyce thou heardest well And holpe me louyngly Thou threwst me downe as dead Full depe into the sea And made about my head The floudeâ— to compas me The water waues in haste Went ouer me with myght I thought I had ben cast Away out of thy syght But yet agayne shall I Go to thy holy place Whiche is thy churche holy And thanke therfore thy grace In depnes where I laye The water sude my lyfe The wedes were wrapte always About my head with stryfe Into the helles depnes Descendyng did perseuer In wo and great distresse Barde in with earth for euer But thou oh God my lorde Hast brough my lyfe agayne And hast my soule restorde From corruptible payne When that my soule did faint Vpon the lorde I thought My prayer and my playnt Was to thy temple brought Therfore they that delyght In vanitie so vayne For sake his helpe and myght That mercy doth retayne But I wyll prayse and paye That I hym vowed haue And thanke the lorde alwayâ— That did me helpe and saue ¶ A consideration of the vnryghteousnes of the vayne miserable world ¶ Syng this as Of Ielousy who so wyll heare DIrectly who so nowe wyl walke In pathes of plain perfect way whose hartes mouthes together talke Not glosing by deceit astray That flatter none for mede nor loue Nor ruled by affection Nor wyll for worldly glory moue Nor yet for brybes infection Such meÌ„ had nede their countes to cast In what maner to thriue and gayne For here let them be sure and fast No frendshyp doth for suche remayne â–ª Requisitly they doe regarde The ioyes layde vp in lyfe to come And that is only the rewarde Wheron their mynde is all and summe Wherfore we may with truthe coÌ„clude That suche as loue this worldly pelfe From heauen doe them selues seclude As doth that wretch who kylles him self And those agayne that doe despyse These mundane gandes as vyle vayne May well be called godly wyse For heauens blysse they shall obtayne ¶ A ditie of lamentation against the dissemblyng and hipocriticall false dealynge vsed of moste folke in these dayes that is to saye holy and honest talke myxed with wicked and vicious dedes IN sommer time when flowrs gan spryng and evry bough bent to his kind Phebus shone bright the birdes did sing as natures order hath assignd I walked to recreat my mynde which out of sorowe might not starte but saide as duty did me bind lord Christ help evry wofull hart My wittes were tossed to and fro That truthe is preached sincerly Yet wycked lyuers neuer mo Were in this worlde ryght sikarly Wherfore I wepte full bitterly None but God only knew my smarte Whiche me constrayned lowd to cry Lorde Christ helpe evry wofull harte None doth in his vocation walke But eche estate wandreth awry Yet haue the moste part godly talke And commit deedes cleane contrary Thus walke they in hypocrisie In well doyng none doth his part Wherfore I cryde ryght hartily Lorde Christ helpe evry wofull hart The man that is most couetyse Wyll talke most against wrongful gayne Thinkyng by speakyng in suche wyse His subtill purpose to obtayne As though perfection did remayne In flaâ—tring tongues myndes peruert This caused me to crye agayne Lorde Christe helpe evry wofull heart How doth the ryche oppresse the poore Punyshing them that therof tell Howe doth the wolfe the lambe deâ—oute And enuy in his venym swell Howe falsly doe men buye and sell To speake of this it is my part For sure these frutes came out of hell Lord Christ helpe evry wofull heart In dronkenes they haue no pere That conterfet moste sobernes Their talke is often chaste and clere That moste frequent lasciuiousnes Whordom adultrye
As it is yll it would appere Vnto these wrathfull men Or he that cunnyng had In meâ—re to recite Both soule and body how it noyâ—s As sheweth holy write Then should these wrathfull men That anger wyll sustayne Perceaue the incommodities That therwith doo remayne Concernyng body fyrste Diseases it doth bryng As fâ—uers vyle of euery kynd Whiche mortally doo styng It causeth phrenesie And madnes of the brayneâ— Of visage great deformyrie And palscys this is playne Concernyng soule also The whiche is worste of all It maketh men blaspheme their â—rendes And euell them to call Outrage and wycked othes And loue put out of place Reuengement is theyr whole desyre That banysht be from grace All benefytes forgot That to thee dyd thy frende Obedience true and reuerence Wrathe putteth out of mynde Wherof succedeth oft Contention full of cost By trouble and vnquiet mynde Thyne appetite is lost To scorne dysdeyne and hate Ye thynke it is no shame All though nothyng can hynder more A good report or name These wycked fruites of wrathe Remember he that can Full lytle haste as I suppose To wrathe they would haue than Harke and geue eare ye men That thus to wrath are bent Attend a whyle vnto my tune And holde your selfe content For as thou art a man Thynke also so â—â— he With whoÌ„ thou doest coÌ„ceiue such cause So wrathfull for to be Is it not laufull then And as conuenyent That he with thee should be as wrathe And as muche discontent Leaue of your wrath therfore I saye to you agayne Assure your selues that angry men Doo alway lyue in payne And calle to mynde howe Christ The sonne of God moste hye Whyche in a moment by hys powâ—â— Hys enmies myght destroye How dyd the Iewes hym greue â–ª Hauyng no cause wherwre Hys most swete face they strake in spight And buffeted hym sore It nothyng irked them At hym to spyt in scorne Wyth wytnesse wrong accusyng hym And crowned hym with thorne Hys vertous body lo. They haled to and fro An heauy Crosse on hym they laydâ— The more to doo hym wo. All faultlesse as a lambe To suffer deathe he went They dyd hys body all to beate And yet was he content They naylde hym on the crosse Thys shoulde we beare in mynde Thys suffred he of his good wyll For Moses in this zeale The Tables brake of stone In whych God with hys fynger wrote His ten precepts eche one As Dauid ment when he Ryght holyly dyd saye Be angery but doo not synne By no maner of way It was in Christe also As holy wryt dothe tell When he out of the temple whypâ— Those that dyd buye and sell Within his holy place Where nothyng els should be But prayer to the lyuyng God In secrete that doeth see And at an other tyme It shewde in hym agayne The hypocrites when he rebukâ— As Mathew telleth playne This symple song all ye That heare or doo it reade It is enough to cause you all Of wrathe to take good hede Of synfull wycked wrathe Beware in any wyse To all men that haue wyt in store Let this as nowe suffyse In hearyng of theyr faultes That they may mend them soone And aftâ—r stand at Gods ryght hand When they receyue theyr doome ¶ An Inuectiue agaynst wrathe â–ª Syng thys as The lyuyng God our only Lorde that c. SAlomon sayth A foole his guyse Is to be wrath immediatly But he is to be counted wyse That well can hyde hys iniury Therfore saynt Paule doth say of trauth Let not the sunne rest on your wrath And Plato beyng demaunded Wherby a wise man knowne should be Sayd yf wyse men be rebuked Therwith they wyll not be angry Therfore saint Paule doth say of trauth Let not the sonne rest on your wrath By as also dothe ryght well shewe Of wrath the discommoditie Saying that it in hygh and lowe To counsayle is chiefe enemye Therfore saint Paule doth say of trauth Let not the sonne rest on your wrathe The chiefest helpe agaynst the same Seneca dothe describe ryght playne Take Pacience that godly dame In her syght wrath can not remayne Therfore saint Paule doth saye of trauth Let not the sonne reste on your wrath Of wrathfull men it is the wunt To sowe discorde with eche estate But pacience doth alwayes hunte For to appease strife and debate Therfore saint Paule doth say of trauth Let not the sonne reste on your wrath Therfore with men replete with ire Vse no familiaritie And those whom wrath sone settes on fyre Byde thou not in their company But as saint Paule doth saye of trauth Let not the sonne reste on thy wrath As sayth saint Iames be swyft to heare The thyng that may thee edifie Be slowe in speache in lyke maner But slowe to wrath especially For why saint Paule doth say of trauth Let not the sonne reste on your wrath By wrath as sayth saint Gregory Wysdome is hid and out of syght And puts all out of memory That should be done by wisdomes myght Therfore saynt Paule doth saye of trauth Let not the sonne reste on your wrath My brethern here to make an ende I you commit to pacience As seruantes true doe you intende To serue hyr grace with diligence Because saynt Paule doth say of trauth Let not the sonne reste on your wrath ¶ Against drunkennes and gluttony ¶ Syng this as Of Ielousy who so wyll heare c. ADrunken workeman certeynly By labour neuer getteth ought A lyttle he settes nothyng by But from a litle commes to nought For learned men howe may suffice Their wyne in litle quantitie So in their reste and exercise It doth none incommoditie Wo be to those that early ryse The prophet sayth to make great haste And drynke tyll nyght as is their guyse Tyll reason banysht be at laste A drunkard as saint Austen sayth Offendeth nature very sore Castyng asyde both grace and fayth He hedlong runnes to hell therfore The moderate vse of drynke and meate No wyse man hateth this is true But luste inordinate and great Ought euery good man to eschue Saynt Ierome sayth Cursed be they That in theyr meate haue suche delyte That reason can not cease nor stay Theyr vyle and gredy appetite Saynt Ambrose playnly doth expresse A worse to serue can none inuent Then gluttony that yll maystresse Desyryng styll and nere content Nor nothyng more infaciate Then glottons bellyes most lyke hell For that whych they receyued late Ryght early they agayne expell These farsted panches aye abhorre Good continence and chastitie Before digestion they craue more Forsakyng vertue fyithyly All Christians therfore I exhort Voluptuous excesse to forbeare To moderation now resorte And frugally lyue in gods feare ¶ Lecherie rebuked Syng this as On tabrets to the Lorde c. LIke as the fowâ—er wyth hys bayte Soone brynges the byrd in snate So are mens soules through lechery Destroyde yer they be ware For lechery Gods ennemy With vertue is not plaste Of
present lust a fowle delyght And of substance a waste It blyndeth men that they thynke not On dreadfull pouertie Whych from great vse of lechery Long absent can not be To bryng a man to beggers state Of harlots is the trade Therfore absteyne from lechery Let it not thee inuade For yf we shall consyder well Mans nature excellent The hyghnes and the dygnitie That God therto hath lente It is a fowle and wycked synne To vse it wantonly Resoluyng it vnhonestly In fylthy lechery How honest and howe beautyfull To lyue contrary wyse In continence and temperance Sobrrnes to deuyse For lechery and synfull lust In youth who so doth vse Shall wythred be with feblenes In age for thys abuse Take hede therfore let not your hartes In harlots snares be caught Absteyne from them frequent them not Theyr pathes be very naught The houses of suche harlots are Of helie the very snare Theyr chambers vnto dredfull death Full well we may compare For grace therfore pray we to God And vnto wedlocke cleaue Of lechery and synfull lust That we may take our leaue ¶ An earnest complaint agaynste Idolatry Syng this as In my trouble and payne SOmetyme that I haue sene To see agayne were strange In place where I haue bene In hope no more to range In wyckednes and synne And in Idolatrye Whyche who so vse shall wynne Helle euerlastyngly For from the face of GOD There can be nothyng hyd Who hath full oft forbod That we agaynst hym dyd To worshyp an Image The Lord dothe most abhorte But in our pylgremage We honoured great store That tyme I trust be past For custome made vs blynde And Iam sore agast Lest worse be lefte behynde Beware whyle you haue space That Idoll of the harte Leste at the laste it chace Your soules in hell to smart Beware and take good hede Leste that er ye be ware Ye doo so farre procede That ye no more repayre Example ye may see As Salomon doth saye Take tyme whyle tyme may bee For tyme wyll soone away Repent therfore in space Whyle tyme to you is lent And call to God for grace With true heart and intent Least when ye would ryght faynâ— There shall no grace be sent As subiect to hell payne In sorowe to be shent ¶ An inuectiue against sclanderous tongues ¶ Syng this as If truthe may take no trusty hold c. IN sadnes set with wo opprest Oft did I sighe by my constraynt From depnes of a pensiue brest Thus carefully came forth my playnt O sclander vyle and tongues vntrue Vnbridled lo thus ye procede And cause the carefull harte to rue That did no faulte by worde or dede Not all for nought I well perceyue Kyng Dauid did on you complayne Sythe nought may let you to deceyue And vtter frutes of your disdayne Delyuer lorde my soule sayeth he From lyps that lye for me in weyght â–ª And from suche tongues as euer be In vse with falshod and deceyt What rewarde then may we deuyse For tongues quod he that speake vnright The whottest coles in burnyng wyse With arrowes sharpe and full of myght Among men mortall on this mould I thynke there is no vyce nor cryme So wycked by a thousand fould As ill tongues are this present tyme. Whiche ernestly hath geuen me cause If Dauid ment not fyre of hell That I may ad therto this clause With lucifer that they may dwell For nothyng in this lyfe certayne We may so well to hell compare As enuious tongues that not refrayne To gender styll both stryfe and care For as they are a punyshment A hell to good men and a stryfe So may in hell be their torment When they departe out of this lyfe And as they burne till they burst out In wicked wordes and sclander vyle In hell so may they beare a rouâ—â— From heauen hauing their exile ¶ A complaint against euel tunges ¶ Syng this as I am the man whom God c. WEll may the wyse deteste The frutes of tongues vntrue Whiche neuer cease but styll prouyde Their malyce to renewe There is no tyme nor place That may them ones refrayne No vertuous mynde nor exercise That may their vice restrayne To selaunder and detract And vlab the same about A wycked thyng when they conceyue They streyght waye put it out As Socrates hath sayd No worse thyng can be found Then wycked tongues from whoÌ„ deceyt And falshode doth redound What wyckednes is there That maye compared bee Vnto the false and fylthy tongue In any one degree For where all other hurtes By death are vanquisht quite Euen after death the wycked tongues Doo vtter theyr despite Whych causeth me to thynke As Chilon dyd yet whyle No sworde that cutteth halfe so kene As wycked tongues and vyle Of which most wycked vyce I neuer yet could fynd Not haiâ—â—â—o muche in any wyght As in the female kynde In whom it doth abounde With detestable rage That no deuice nor yet constraynte May cause it to aswage O detestable tongues O fylthy sinkes of hell O wycked vnce whose hatefulnes All other doth excell Ryght aptly was it calde A world of wickednes Syth nothyng in this lyfe so muche Doth innocentes oppres By paynfull profe I founde Suche frute that wrought me wo For wycked tongues haue caused me My playnt to vtter so Do me not blame therefore That I on them complayne The simple worme when ye him treade Wyll turne his tayle agayne ¶ A ditie made in the tyme of the the swearyng plague Anno. 1552. O Plague possest with mortall myght so farre as god doth geue precinâ—t Well mayst thou moue the christian right Vpon his lorde and God to thinke And shew him well by tokens playne How that he shall from sinne refrayne My flesh is frayle and shakes for feare My soule is strange and hath no doubt And hopes for health and seketh where It may be had to fynde it out The scripture saith be strong in fayth And then be not afrayd of death In this my nede thy helpe to haue To thee O god I crye and call I thee beseche my soule to saue From Satan synne and hell and all Though I O god haue done amysse Thy death shall me directe to blysse Then welcom plague the guide to helth And death also the porte of lyfe Sythe that this change is perfect welth Out of this vale of moste vyle stryfe Why should we then thus feare to dye And end our fatall destenie Oh folysh flesh so fonde and frayle To rage against all ryghteousnes I wyll that thou shalt not peruayle To folow thyne own filthynes For I wyll set my whole delyght To fight against thee with my sprite That vertue excelleth both ryches and beautie SIth nothyng can be sure that hath no perfect ground how can the thyng endure vncerteyne that is founde What so begynning had Must haue his fatall ende And nothyng good or bad Hath other waye to bende All those that buylders