_Ordo Sacerdotum fatuo turbatur ab omni,
Labitur et passim Religionis honos._
Since Reason, _Martin_, cannot stay thy pen,
We 'il see what rime will do; have at thee then!
A Dizard late skipt out upon our stage,
But in a sacke, that no man might him see;
And though we know not yet the paltrie page,
Himselfe hath _Martin_ made his name to bee.
A proper name, and for his feates most fit;
The only thing wherein he hath shew'd wit.
Who knoweth not, that Apes, men _Martins_ call,[425]
Which beast, this baggage seemes as 't were himselfe:
So as both nature, nurture, name, and all,
Of that's expressed in this apish elfe.
Which Ile make good to Martin Marre-als face,
In three plaine poynts, and will not bate an ace.
For, first, _the Ape delights with moppes and mowes,
And mocketh Prince and Peasants all alike_;
_This jesting Jacke_, that no good manners knowes,
_With his Asse-heeles presumes all states to strike_.
Whose scoffes so stinking in each nose doth smell,
As all mouthes saie of Dolts he beares the bell.
Sometimes his chappes do walke in poynts too high,
Wherein the Ape himself a Woodcock tries.
Sometimes with floutes he drawes his mouth awrie,
And sweares by his ten bones, and falselie lies.
Wherefore be he what he will I do not passe;
He is the paltriest Ape that euer was.
Such fleering, leering, jeering fooles bopeepe,
Such hahas! teehees! weehees! wild colts play;
Such Sohoes! whoopes and hallowes; hold and keepe;
Such rangings, ragings, reuelings, roysters ray;
With so foule mouth, and knaue at euery catch,
'Tis some knaue's nest did surely _Martin_ hatch.
_Now out he runnes with Cuckowe king of May,
Then in he leapes with a wild Morrice daunce_;
Then strikes he up _Dame Lawson's_[426] lustie lay;
Then comes Sir _Jeffrie's_ ale-tub, tapp'd by chaunce,
Which makes me gesse, and I can shrewdly smell,
He loues both t' one and t'other passing well.
_Then straight, as though he were distracted quite,
He chafeth like a cut-purse layde in warde_;
_And rudely railes with all his maine and might,
Against both knights and lords without regard_:
So as _Bridewell_ must tame his dronken fits,
And _Bedlem_ help to bring him to his wits.
But, _Martin_, why, in matters of such weight,
Dost thou thus _play the dawe, and dauncing foole_?
O sir (quoth he) _this is a pleasant baite
For men of sorts_, to traine them to my schoole.
_Ye noble states, how can you like hereof,
A shamelesse Ape at your sage head should scoffe?_
Good Noddie, now leaue scribbling in such matters;
They are no tooles for fooles to tend unto;
Wise men regard not what mad monkies patters!
'Twere trim a beast should teach men what to do.
Now _Tarleton's_ dead, the consort lackes a Vice.
For knaue and foole thou maist bear prick and price.
The sacred sect, and perfect pure precise,
Whose cause must be by _Scoggin's_ jests mainteinde,
Ye shewe, although that Purple, Apes disguise,
Yet Apes are still, and so must be, disdainde.
_For though your Lyons lookes weake eyes escapes,
Your babling bookes bewraies you all for Apes._
The next point is, _Apes use to tosse and teare
What once their fidling fingers fasten on_;
_And clime aloft, and cast downe euery where,
And neuer staie till all that stands be gon!_
Now whether this in _Martin_ be not true,
You wiser heads marke here what doth ensue.
What is it not that _Martin_ doth not rent?
Cappes, tippets, gownes, black chiuers, rotchets white;
Communion bookes, and homelies: yea, so bent
To teare, as women's wimples feele his spite.
Thus tearing all, as all apes use to doo,
He teares withall the Church of Christ in two.
Marke now what thinges he meanes to tumble downe,
For to this poynt to look is worth the while,
In one that makes no choice 'twixt cap and crowne,
Cathedral churches he would fain untile,
And snatch up bishops' lands, and catch away
All gaine of learning for his prouling pray.
_And thinke you not he will pull downe at length
As well the top from tower as cocke from steeple_;
_And when his head hath gotten some more strength,
To play with Prince as now he doth with People_:
Yes, he that now saith, Why should Bishops bee?
Will next crie out, _Why Kings? The Saincts are free!_
The Germaine boores with Clergiemen began,
But neuer left till Prince and Peeres were dead.
_Jacke Leyden was a holy zealous man,
But ceast not till the Crowne was on his head._
And _Martin's_ mate, _Jacke Strawe_, would alwaies ring,
The Clergie's faults, but sought to kill the King.
"Oh that," quoth _Martin_, "_chwere_ a Nobleman!"[427]
Avaunt, vile villain! 'tis not for such swads.
And of the Counsell, too: marke Princes then:
These roomes are raught at by these lustie lads.
_For Apes must climbe, and neuer stay their wit,
Untill on top of highest hilles they sit._
What meane they els, in euery towne to craue
Their Priest and King like Christ himself to be:
_And for one Pope ten thousand Popes to have,
And to controll the highest he or she?_
Aske Scotland that, whose King so long they crost,
As he was like his kingdome to haue lost.
Beware ye States and Nobles of this lande,
The Clergie is but one of these men's buttes.
_The Ape at last on master's necke will stande:
Then gegge betimes these gaping greedie gutts._
_Least that too soone, and then too late ye feele,
He strikes at head that first began with heele._
The third tricke is, _what Apes by flattering waies
Cannot come by with biting, they will snatch_;
Our _Martin_ makes no bones, but plainely saies,
Their fists shall walke, they will both bite and scratch.
He'll make their hearts to ake, and will not faile,
_Where pen cannot, their penknife shall prevail_.[428]
But this is false, he saith he did but mock:
A foole he was, that so his words did scanne.
He only meant with pen their pates to knocke;
A knaue he is, that so turns cat in pan.
But, _Martin_, sweare and stare as deepe as hell,
Thy sprite, thy spite and mischeuous minde doth tell.
_The thing that neither Pope with booke nor bull,
Nor Spanish King with ships could doe without,
Our MARTINS heere at home will worke at full:
If Prince curbe not betimes that rabble rout._
That is, destroy both Church and State and all;
For if t' one faile, the other needes must fall.
Thou England, then, whom God doth make so glad
Through Gospel's grace and Prince's prudent reigne,
Take heede lest thou at last be made as sad,
Through _Martin's_ makebates marring, to thy paine.
For he marrs all and maketh nought, nor will,
Saue lies and strife, and works for _England's_ ill.
_And ye graue men that answere MARTIN'S mowes,
He mocks the more, and you in vain loose times.
Leaue Apes to Doggs to baite, their skins to Crowes_,
And let old _Lanam_[429] lashe him with his rimes.
_The beast is proud when men read his enditings_;
Let his workes goe the waie of all wast writings.
Now, _Martin_, you that say you will spawne out
Your brawling brattes, in euery towne to dwell,
_We will provide in each place for your route,
A bell and whippe that Apes do loue so well._
And if yo skippe, and will not wey the checke,
We 'il haue a springe, and catche you by the necke.
And so adieu, mad _Martin_-mar-the-land
Leaue off thy worke, and "more work"[430] hearest thou me
Thy work's nought worth, take better worke in hand.
_Thou marr'st thy worke, and thy work will marre thee._
Worke not anewe, least it doth work thy wracke,
And then make worke for him that worke doth lacke.
And this I warn thee, Martin Monckies-face,
Take heed of me; my rime doth charm thee bad.
I am a rimer of the Irish race,
And haue alreadie rimde thee staring mad.
But if thou cease not thy bald jests to spread,
I'le never leave till I have rimde thee dead.