An Answer to Master Smyth

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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

Undoutedly 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 r[i]ght right] rtght 1540

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. Ve illi per quem scandalum uenit, Luce .xvij.

¶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.

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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 cote / 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

Under 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 the scriptures to your sayeng / 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

As though ye were prymrose-perelesse / and a ruler of the roste

By 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. Qui [s]e laudat stercore coronabitur, se] fe 1540se] fe 1540

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 parchaunce ye wold quickly thurst a poore man among the thornes thurst: =thrust

But god almyghty prouydeth well to sende a shrewde cow short hornes.

¶ Christ preserue the kynges most noble grace / and sende him longe lyfe

Euen Henry the eight (next vnder god) of this church / the hed supreme

Christ preserue and 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 ensence: "inform"; see OED s.v. insense

Christ for his tendre mercy / amende all-thing that is a_mys

Christ sende maister Smyth more charite / whan his good pleasure is.

¶Amen.

By me a poore man whose herte if ye knewe

Wolde be the kynges seruaunt as fayne as you.

W._G.

set at the end of the first line of the above couplet

¶Imprinted at London by me Rychard_Bankes / And be to be solde in Pater_noster_rowe by Iohnn_Turke / at the sygne of the Rose.

Cum priuilegio ad imprimendum solum.

This line was set by the printer as part of the colophon