The Return of Smyths Envoy

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The returne of .M. smythes enuoy seruaunt to the Kynges Royall Maiestye and Clerke of the Quenes graces counsell (though most vnworthy)

Trolle here, trolle there, trolle out, trolle in

Ye trolle away and trolle aboute lyke a blynde sym.

EUen with the same commendacion that to you dothe pertayne

I sende you here myne answer, which is no great treatyse

Desyrynge you to marke, and to vnderstande playne

That I haue receyued your enuyous and proude enterpryse

The mater wherof, I trust, all honest men dothe despyse

But bragge and face what you can, I care not a whyt

I take tyme as tyme is, though hereafter commeth not yet.

¶You ruffle and you rayle, for malyce and despyte

And as a loftye lurden, you shewe your-selfe full playne

For-asmoche as you are greued with the good that I dyd wryte

Which I wyll neuer denye, but earnestlye mayntayne

Hauynge causes ynowe, on your malyce to complayne

For your manasynges and threatnynges, wherin I am sure ye do but gesse

For layenge popery to your charge, your herte grauntynge there no lesse.

¶Though with the poynt of my penne I dyd you so spurre and pryck

That therby you were greued, and greatlye styrred to yre

Yet I councell you to syt sure, and that you nother wynche nor kyck

For and yf you do, I wyll surely laye you in the myer

Take no more vpon you then is mete, lest your-selfe ye do tyer

Or some other myschefe chaunce you, take this prouerbe for a token

That a sycke man is sone beaten, and a skalde hed sone broken.

¶I was nothynge greued that your-selfe so openly ye dyd declare

Nether with the descrybynge of your name, nor of your seruyce the pyth

Nor yet wyll any honest man so iudge, and therfore I nothynge care

Though mad malyce moued you, to be despyted therwith

Ragynge because I compared a cobler with the smyth

Your folyshe dysplesure wherwith, is easye ynough to be founde

Namynge me as ye arre, an vpryght vagabo[n]de.

¶Of the openynge of your name and seruyce I knew not your entent

But yet for your doynges, I thought ye worthy blame

Not countynge you gyltlesse, and therfore I dyd you shent

Consydrynge I regarded your dede, more then I dyd your name

And therfore vnto your offyce, I wysshed no maner of shame

But entendynge my purpose I wryte as in my mynde it laye

Howbeyt, you beynge naught your-selfe, turne it another waye.

¶Sometyme a thefe shameth not to shewe bothe his name and face

Where the true man hydeth hym-selfe, and standeth in great doute

Least that this theuyshe malyce shuld present it-selfe in place

To the destruccyon of him that his thefery wolde trye oute

So in lykewyse you, do seke all corners rounde aboute

But it will not helpe you, though awhyle there be delaye

Tyme maye brynge you forthe, as well as it doth poure graye

¶For romblynge in the scryptures in-dede I dyd you reproue

Wysshynge with all my herte that your doynges ye wold amende

Descrybynge your faute playnly, as honestye dyd me behoue

You myght gentely haue spoken with me if ye coulde me reprehende

But I am sure ye mynded it not, but dyd it least intende

For all your bragges and krackes, on your ale-benche when you syt

Let tyme be as tyme is, though herafter commeth not yet.

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¶To a taylour in-dede I aduysed you that ye dyd resorte

For the shapynge out of scrypture / your text the better to frame

A secte I am sure more catholyck / then are your popysshe sorte

Beynge the membres of chryst / and him-selfe the hed of the same

Neyther heretyckes nor papistes / but men of honest fame

That alwayes are obedyent and vse not / for to rebelle

Though you and soche other / wolde helpe therto with your councell.

¶I nother bluster nor blowe / any false mater to proue

Though you do desyer of euery honest man the fall

Nother layed I popery to your charge / but thought ye dyd it loue

For yf by you / popery I coulde proue / then a traytour I wolde you call

And wolde it not concele / but bryng you to your tryall

Our doynges wyll apere / though ye defer them for a space

And I wyll be forth-commynge / before your betters to shewe my face.

¶The rest of your raylynges I wyll as now omytte

Upon soche braynles braggery my tyme I wyll not spende

They do nothyng elles but manyfest the lewde vse of your wyt

And the myschefe of your herte whiche to other ye do pretende

You haue no nother buckler your-selfe for to defende

Who rebuketh your secte / or wolde reforme your popery

Amonge you strayte / he is a mayntayner of heresy.

¶Thus / though ye wolde be hydden / yet men may easely knowe

What trayterous hertes ye beare / to god and oure good kynge

His grace hath geuen iniunctyons / whiche cleane to ouerthrowe

What councelles do ye holde / to euydent is the thynge

We shulde beware of your treason / for surely I feare ye wolde brynge

Your romyshe ruffeler to be our heed / by some maner of shyft

To the whiche your papisticall flocke / not longe agoo gaue a lyft.

¶There sawe we playnly / a myscheuous and detestabell sorte

Of false fayned hertes / that agaynst our good kynge dyd aryse

Sekynge his destruccyon / and all theyrs that him dyd supporte

Beynge armed with customes / and soche fayned lyes

But god (who of his grace) euer prouydeth for his

Gaue soche knowlege therof / that they had not theyr entent

Some fledde / som taken / some were hanged on the galowes and brent.

¶Whiche thynge I do desyre / all true subiectes to regarde

And to god and our good kynge / to beare a due obedyence

And to all false fayned hertes I wyshe the same rewarde

Euen lyke as the others had / worthely for their offence

And nowe Master .T._.S. marke well this sentence

Consyder that as you be / so haue you vsed your wyt

And I take tyme / as tyme is / though herafter come not yet.

¶Parauenture Syr .T._S. you wyll yet bragge and bost

As ye do here in that ye wyll dryue me out of the way

But be not to busye I aduyse you / lest you come to your cost

Though in myne owne cause / I wyll but lytell saye

For and yf you worke moche / ye shall perceyue I wyll not playe

Nether holdynge downe my hed / nor yet beare it to moche aloft

For all your braggynge countenance / it wyl become you to speke soft.

¶Nowe for an ende (Eternall God) I beseche the graunt longe lyfe

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With prosperous contynuans, to Henry our most noble kynge

And to Katheryne our Quene also, his most Laufull Wyfe And] Andd 1540; Katheryne] Katherynge 1540

And graunt betwene theym bothe, lyke other braunches to sprynge

(As is Edwarde our Prynce[,] that most odoriferous thynge[)] Prynce,] Prynce? 1540; thynge)] thynge 1540

Preserue theym longe togither Lorde, and graunt theym all the blysse

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Where Angels incessantly, synge (Gloria in excelsis)

Amen. This line is set alongside the previous one

¶ God saue the kynge.

Trolle here, Trolle there, Trolle out, Trolle in

Ye trolle awaye and trolle about, lyke a blynde Sym.

¶Imprynted at London by Rycharde_bankes, And be to sell in Lombard_stret[e] /strete] stret 1540 nere vnto the stockes by Rycharde_Kele.

Cum priuilegio ad imprimendum solum. The imprimatur was inserted by the printer into the colophon