FRom when unto when, to come to this when.
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When fooles of your folly, wyl worke lyke wyse men
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And know theyr owne fautes, & leave faulting other
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And fyrst mende themselves, & then warne theyr brother,
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Enviyng none, for that theyr sorte is not
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Such as they would be, lyke others I wot.
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Goddes of degree, to rule and beare swaye,
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Whose maners mete not, to stand in such stay,
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And yet wold have mouthes, to rore lyke the Lyon
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Beyng but Asses, brute of condicion.
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Forgettynge that order doth thus aske and crave,
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That eche should hym selfe in order behave.
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As beastes of lowe sorte, to be meke of theyr mynde,
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To those that be hygher, and greater of kynde.
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The Bore not to bragge, to stryve wyth the Lyon.
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The Hart not to stand, wyth the Bull in contencion,
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The Oxe that doth draw, to thyncke hymselfe able,
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To runne for a wager, wyth the Horse of the stable.
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It grees not, it cordes not, nor orderly fyttes
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That men should fynd fault, wyth Gods and theyr wyttes,
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Jupiters seate standes somewhat to hye
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For us to judge it, that come it not nye.
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And judgementes of gesse, in any such sorte,
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May serve to the Gods, for a laughter and sporte.
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To se how Judas, would fayne become Juda,
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To juste at the life, of Juli apostata.
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Let Beastes that be meete, for carte and caryage,
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Leane to theyr laboure, as manne to hys maryage.
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And synce we be members of one common wealthe,
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Let us joyne aptly, as fyttes for our health.
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The eye as the eye, let hym stare and looke,
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And let the leg learne, to bowe and to crooke.
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Let the hand answere, to helpe and to dooe,
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As the wyl of the hert, shall wyll hym unto.
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And let not the foote, make murmur and cry.
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To aske why our head is placed so hye.
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Our instrument jarres, it makes no ryght melody,
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If we thus tune not to order our armony.
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Then mayster when, when bothe you and I,
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And every man els wyl learne to applye,
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To our ryght metyarde, and kepe oure just compasse,
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And looke not so deepe in an other mannes glasse.
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And leave dreaming dreames of dead David Dicar,
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And send such whens home, to our person or vycar.
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And therwyth remember, thys verse of Cato,
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Whose wysdom doth warne us, with these wordes I trowe
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Que soles culpare, ea tu ipse:
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ne feceris. when wee marke this nipse,
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And leave drawyng dialles, on other mens dooyng
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And learne for to looke to our owne woorkes and brewynge,
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Then I say then, when you agayn when:
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wyll say well your selfe, and suche other men,
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And all folke wyll doo well. Lo thus I ende then,
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All thynges shall be well, whiche god graunt. Amen.
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