To make his coffers rich:
But he layeth all in the ditch,
And useth such abusion,
That, in the conclusion,
All cometh to confusion :
Perceive the cause why,
To tell the truth plainly,
He is so ambitious,
So shameless, and so vicious,
And so superstitious,
And so much oblivious,
From whence that he came,
That he falleth in a cisiam:
Which truly to express,
Is a forgetfulness,
Or wilful blindness,
Wherewith the Sodomites
Lost their inward sights.
The Gommorians, also,
Were brought to deadly woe,
As scripture records,
A cecitate cordis :
In the Latin, sing we,
Libera nos, Domine.
But this mad Amalek,
Like to Amamelek,
He regardeth lords
No more than potshords;
He is in such elation,
Of his exaltation,
And the supportation
Of our sovereign lord,
That God to record,
He ruleth all, at will,
Without reason or skill,
Howbeit they be primordial,
Of his wretched original,
And his base progeny,
And his greasy genealogy.
He came of the sink royal,
That was cast out of a butcher's stall.
But, however he was born,
Men would have the less scorn,
If he could consider
His birth and room together,
And call to his mind,
How noble and how kind,
To him he hath found
Our sovereign lord, chief ground
Of all this prelacy,
And set him nobly,
In great authority,
Out from a low degree,
Which he cannot see,
For he was pardee,
No doctor of divinity,
Nor doctor of the law,
Nor of none other saw,
But a poor master of art,
God wot! had little part
Of the quatrivials,
Nor yet of trivials,
Nor of philosophy,
Nor of philology,
Nor of good policy,
Nor of astronomy,
Nor acquainted worth a fly,
With honourable Haly,
Nor with royal Ptolomy,
Nor with Albumazar,
To treat of any star,
Fixt or yet mobile,
His Latin tongue doth hobble,
He doth but clout and cobble,
In Tully's faculty,
Called humanity:
Yet proudly he doth pretend,
How no man can him amend;
But have ye not heard this,
How a one-eyed man is
Well sighted, when
among blind men.
Then our process for to stable,
This man was full unable
To reach to such degree,
Had not our princely
Royal Henry the Eighth,
Take him in such conceit,
That he set him on height,
In exemplyfieing
Great Alexander the king, In writing as we find, Which, of his royal mind, And of his noble pleasure, Transcending out of measure, Thought to do a thing That pertaineth to a king, 'To make up one of nought, And made to him be brought A wretched poor man, Which his living wan, With planting of leeks,
By the days and by the weeks;
And of this poor vassal,
He made a king royal,
And gave him a realm to rule,
That occupied a showel,
A mattoke, and a spade,
Before that he was made
A king, as I have told,
And ruled as he wold;
Such is a king's power,
To make within an hour,
And work such a miracle,
That shall be a spectacle
Of renown and worldly fame,
In likewise now the same
Cardinal is promoted,
Yet with lewd conditions noted,
As hereafter been noted.
Presumption and vain glory, Envy, wrath, and lechery, Covetess, and gluttony, Slothful to do good,
Now frantick, now stark wode: Should this man of such mode
Rule the sword of might,
How can he do right,
For he will as soon smite
His friend as his foe,
A proverb long ago.
Set up the wretch on high,
In a throne triumphantly,
Make him a great estate,
And he will play checkmate
With royal majesty ;
Count himself as good as
A prelate potential,
To rule under Belial,
As fierce and as cruell
As the fiend of hell;
His servants meniall
He doth revile and brawl,
Like Mahound in a play :
No man dare withsay.
He hath despite and scorn
At them that be well born,
He rebukes them and rails,
Ye whorsons, ye vassals,
Ye knaves, ye churls' sons,
Ye ribands, not worth two plums,
Ye rain-beaten beggars rejagged,
Ye recrayed ruffins all ragged;
Thou peevish pie-pecked,
Thou losel long-necked,
Thus daily they be decked,
Taunted and checked,
That they are so woe,
They wot not whither to go.
No man dare come to the speech,
Of this gentle jack-breech,
Of what estate he be,
Of spiritual dignity,
Nor duke of high degree,
Nor marquess, earl, nor lord,
Which shrewdly doth accord.
Thus he, born so base,
All noblemen should outface,
His countenance like a Cæsar,
My lord is not at leisure;
Sir, ye must tarry a stound (hour)
Till better leisure be found;
And, sir, ye must dance attendance,
And take patient sufferance,
For my lord's grace
Hath now no time nor space
To speak with you as yet.
And thus they shall sit,
Chuse them sit or Alit,
Stand, walk, or ride,
And his leisure abide
Perchance half a year,
And yet never the near.
This dangerous dowsipere,
Like a king's peer,
And within this sixteen year,
He would have been right fain
To have been a chaplain,
And have taken right great pain
With a poor knight,
Whatsoever he hight,
The chief of his own counsel,
They cannot well tell
When they with him should mell,
He is so fierce and fell:
He rails and he rates,
He calleth them doddy-pates;
He grins and he gapes,
As it were Jack Napes,
Such a mad bedlem
For to rule this realm,
It is a wondrous case
That the king's grace
Is toward him so minded,
And so far blinded,
That he cannot perceive
How he doth him deceive;
I doubt lest by sorcery,
Or such other loselry,
As witchcraft, or charming,
For he is the king's darling,
And his sweet hart-root,
And is governed by this mad koot:
For what is a man the better
For the king's letter?
For he will tear it asunder,
Whereat much I wonder
How such a hoddy-poll
So boldly dare controul,
And so malapertly withstand
The king's own hand,
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