An artificiall Apologie, articulerlye
answerynge to the obstreperous Obgannynges of one W.G. Evometyd to
the vituperacion of the tryumphant trollynge Thomas smyth. Repercussed
by the ryght redolent & rotounde rethorician R. Smyth P. with annotacions
of the mellifluous and misticall Master Mynterne, marked in the mer-
gent for the enucliacion of certen obscure obelisques, to th ende
that the imprudent lector shulde not tytubate or halluci-
nate in the labyrinthes of this lucubratiuncle.
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MOved wyth mercy, by pytye provoked
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Of duty I am dryven, somwhat for to wryte
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In defence of one, whome I se sore boked
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And sore assauted, to be beaten from the ryght
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But yf I lyve, some of them shal be smoked
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His part wyl I take with al my power & myght.
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My harte doth blede, to se my frende thus dreast
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So that my penne wyll wryte, though I saye naye
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Agaynst this brockyshe graye, this bytter bytyng beast
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That seketh nothynge elles, but for to pull awaye
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The good name and fame, of one that is honest
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And ful of lytterature, as all that love hym saye
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Master Thomas smyth, his name nede not be hyd
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Whome to se so handled, I have great remorse
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For the stockes sake, of which he is descended
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He commeth of the smyth, that shod saynt Georges horsse
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By ryght dessent, it maye not be denyed
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But yf any wolde, it shall not greatly force.
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Who made this bagarde so bolde, this gresely graye
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Or what heart hath he, that he thus assayles
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Our smyths, yf S. Georges horsse were a lyve I saye
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He dorst even as well have eaten both his nayles
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But though he be gone, all beastes be not awaye
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I coulde saye more, but he doth naught that rayles.
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Betwyxt the smythes & grayes, no doute ther is great oddes
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Loke in vitas patrum, I saye thou wylfull wagge
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How smyths have bene byshoppes, saynts & almost goddes
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Recorde of swete saynt Loye, that holpe a cloyed nagge
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Vulcane was god & smith, whose curse lyghte on thy coddes
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Why then with us smythes, art thou so bolde to bragge
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Marke this malycious, and sore bytynge brock
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Because master smyth, called him thefe in sporte
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Speakynge it but merely, I dare saye in mock
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Howe lewdely of him, he hath made reporte
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But saye what thou canst, he dyd it not by cock
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For by saynt tankarde, he is none of that sorte.
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The money & the woman, wherwith thou doest him charge
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He maye full well advoyde, it is no great thynge
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God save the kynge, a pardon doth dyscharge
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Mo thynges then that, which elles myght hap to brynge
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Both him and you, but skant to walke at large
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Within an yron grate, your Christmas songe to synge
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As for the woman, alas it was no wonder
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She was a whore, and he hath such a charme
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If she be arrant, to brynge her shortly under
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And yet I promyse you, he doth them lytle harme
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But bryngs them to his house, where they parte not asonder
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He covereth her, he colleth her & keps her good and warme.
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And forsoth full well, towarde his olde dayes
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Ye poynted him a place, to be in the stable
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But he never dressed horsse, as he him selfe sayes
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Wherfore for that rome, he is nothynge able
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His lyvynge he must seke, by some other wayes
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Well ynough I warrant you, without hode or bable
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If he had no master, ner none wolde him take
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Skant into the stable, yet ere it were longe
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He hath so many frendes, thou sayest wolde shyft make
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To promote him to the skourynge, of some good mans gonge
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Thou art to spytefull, and I for anger shake
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To se howe thou doest, this poore man so much wronge.
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Ye call him papist, because ye se him worche
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In all he doth or sayth, by doctours and decrees
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Of our olde auncyent mother holy churche
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And for bycause, he doth defende theyr dygnytyes
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Lyke a sorte of lorrelles, you wolde him geve a lurche
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His credyte and his fame, to cause hym for to lese.
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Nota quod non po-
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test portare ser-
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visiam.
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Misericordias
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domini in eternum
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cantabo.
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Id est cibus pro
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pauperibus de
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noua porta.
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A spiritu for-
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nicationis etc.
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De hoc docto-
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res dubitant.
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Melior est ami-
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cos in curia, quam
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denarius in bur
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sa.
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Our smyth can forge, and fetely fabrycate
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A myllyon of mentyres, in lesse then halfe a daye
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Loke in all his workes which are consolydate
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Lyke a wyttye man, dawe canst thou saye naye?
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In such an honest forge, lo he was educate
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And such his bryngynge up, his craft cannot decaye
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And yet this bytynge brocke, sayes he is unworthy
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To be a paryshe clercke, God geve the wo and care
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But yer he come therto, we trust to se the lye
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Askynge for gods sake, in povertie full bare
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Wylt thou pare with our smyth, ah pylde pratynge pye
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Well do not so I advyse you; I councell you beware.
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It wyl be a good whyle or you master Graye
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Have such qualylytes as master Smyth hath
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He speketh even as good frenche, I dare well saye
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As any Popengay, betwene this and bathe
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Cracke me that nut, naye fye I praye you awaye
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Medle not withall, least that it doth you skathe.
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Syr he hath bene in Parys, farre beyonde the see
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where thou durst never, yet pepe out of thy dore
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And I my selfe, dyd here him once saye
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With so starne a loke, Dieu vous done bon jour
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That ever sence, I thought hym ryght well worthy
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To have the lytle roume, within the kynges toure
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Hercules was stronger, than any of the grayes
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Yet was he not hable to mache with two at once
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Beware I saye thou brocke and shortely walke thy wayes
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For we be many smythes, and yf we catche the once
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We wyll fynde the meanes, to shorten thy good dayes
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And in our flammyng forge, we wil burne the fleshe & bones.
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Recant therfore betyme, least we the momorde
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And beate the with oure handes, as yron the styth
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Causynge the for ever, to be a good recorde
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Howe any man herafter doth rayle upon a smyth
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Thy fame we shall pollute, for sowenge soch discord
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Maugre all theyr heartes, that be displeased therwith.
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I warrant you thys graye, hath lytle good maner
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To call master smyth, bedlem and lunatycke
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What though he be gogle eyed, and tawny as atanner
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It is but hys compleccyon, swart and collerycke
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But sythen that he doth fyght, under holy churches baner
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His lybels are allowed, for good and catholycke.
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And though he be a smyth, by face and eke of name
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Yet to God and the kyng, the man maye be wellwylled
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For was not there a smyth that propre feates dyd frame
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The chronycles make mencyon, whoso them well behylde
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Reporte me to the blacke smyth, a man of worthy fame
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Howe many at his commaundement, had he at blackheth felde.
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Nowe for that smyth, & all smythes that mean as he dyd mean
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Or that agaynst God and our kynge, ought conspyre or saye
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That such of there offenses, maye be confessed cleane
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And just rewarde to take, this prayer wyll I praye
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And also that all other, that to theyr sectes do leane
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Maye trudge with them for company, to angre Wyllyam Graye.
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Thus forced by frendshyp, and lykenes of name
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I have compyled this brefe apologye
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Propungnyng therin smythes, and theyr honest fame
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And theyr vylependers, to shame and turpefye
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Implorynge that Lorde, that forged the frame
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Of fyre and water, of earth and of skye.
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To preserve Kynge Henry that prynce potencyall
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And Katheryne oure quene of curtesye the floure
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Wyth Edwarde oure prince, that ympe emperyall
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In helth, in welth, in ryches, in honour,
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And to conserve the counsell heroical
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To pavyse the people by prudencyall power.
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Quod natura
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dedit, nemo
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tollere potest.
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De homini illi
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per quem scan-
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dalum venit.
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Per syncopen
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quasi dicitur
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compare.
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Vidit plus quam
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manducavit
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per etc.
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Parde ei domine,
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nihil enim sunt
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dies eius.
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Cavete a fabris
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quoniam multi.
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Nota quod chole-
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rici sunt iracundia
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item Avicen. c. viii.
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In memoria eter
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na erit justus.
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v. Pater noster.
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v. Ave Maria.
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unum Credo.
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cum De pro-
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fundis.
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Quia sunt de
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uno cognomine.
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Hic aucthor rotu
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lat in rethoricis.
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