To the jentil reder: harti saluctacions,
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Desiring thee to knoe: Balde wins straunge faschions
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And if in aunsering: I appere sum what quick,
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Thinke it not with out cause. his taunts be rive & thick
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Whereas ther is a boke, called: beware the cat,
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The veri truith is so, that Stremer made not that,
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Nor no suche false fabels: fell ever from his pen,
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Nor from his hart or mouth: as knoe mani honest men
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But wil ye gladli knoe who made that boke in dede,
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One Wylliam Baldewine. God graunt him wel to spede
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God graunt him mani new yeres, prosperite and helth
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As he hath in this thing: farderd the Comon welth
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With large lesure, browne studi: he musing all alone
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Devised by what meanes: he might win the whetstone
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Everything almost: in that boke is as tru,
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As that at Midsomer: in London it doth snu.
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Everything almost: in that boke is as tru,
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As that his nose to my dock: is joyned fast with glu,
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Put up your pipes Baldewine: if you can make no better,
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Many talk more wittili: that knoe not one letter,
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Put on your cap Baldewine: & kepe your brayn pan warme
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Least ye go to Bedlem: if suche toyes in you swarme
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Rede this litel short Rime: Baldewinken, til more cum:
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And with Stremers excrements: be bold to noint your gum
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Instede of Diaglum, instede of Coloquintida,
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In stede of rubarbarum, or casia fistula.
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If the maker hereof: had bin at more lesure.
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Ye had from his hande: a more precious tresure
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But in the meane season: content yourselfe with this,
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For your Bagagical boke, a warme a.r.s. you may kys.
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Or els a payre of stockes: if officers do wel,
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You hurt a harmeles man: which no such tales did tel,
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As ye were disposed: loude lyes on him to make,
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Which many witti things: writes for his countreys sake.
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Alas I wolde to God: your boke were halfe so good,
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I wysh you no more harme: nor to your swete hart bloud
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The pith of this paper, (if any man in it loke)
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Is to deni utterli, that Stremer made that boke
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The boke (of ten leaves) was printed every worde
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Er Stremer saw any pece, to wipe away a t.o.r.d.
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Tergendis natibus, som thought his boke was good
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Or to cari spiceri, to cherische a sick mans bloud.
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Therfore jentyl reder: beware what credence thou ghive
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The truth here conteyned: thou mayst boldly belive
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Baldwins toyes do belong: to thee or any other
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As well as they do touche Stremer, his pore brother.
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And now Juge good hirers: whether he be a good man
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Of whom I write these things: as truli as I can.
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If that be not a grete faute, so to hurt a mans name,
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Without sufficient cause: what crime shuld a man blame?
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Omnia si perdas: famam servare memento: Qua semel amissa postea nullus eris,
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If thou lese all (sayth he) yet reserve honest fame
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If that be ones clene gon: go home and suck thy dame.
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I am loth for to rayle, as Baldwin hath begun
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For so betwine us both: a fayre threde shuld be spun
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This miche I have writen: that the truith shuld be knowen
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And that the falsite: shuld quite be overthrowen.
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