Camelles Rejoindre, to Churchyarde.
To Churchyard or Mannaring, or for lack of a name:
To Dicar the dreamer, if you knowe the same.
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MAye a man be so bolde (an order to kepe:)
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To bid you good morow, now after your slepe?
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If I may be so saucy, and make no mistaking:
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God speede master Dreamer, yf you be wakynge.
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But Dreamer or Dicar, or as you saye Davy:
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Whych shal I now cal you as our Lorde save ye?
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Three names are to many for one man alone:
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And two mo makes fyve, for faylyng of one.
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If you had twoo other, that men myght you seeke:
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Then had you a name, for eche daye in the weeke.
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But no man dothe doubte, that so sundrye names:
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Shuld have other loomyng them out of good frames.
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And therfore I thyncke, they come everychone:
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Out of some olde house, tho the postes begone.
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Or els kept in memory, for that they were founde:
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In some old stocke, in some noble mans grounde.
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And so do remayne, for mynde of your auncestry:
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As Syb to Sybbel, sibbes very properly.
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So Jermaines lyps joynde, & so M. Churchyard:
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And Mannaryng met, both in an Orcharde.
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And David the Dicar, came in wyth hys spade:
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And dolve up the Dreamer, tyl the line was made.
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And thus per consequence, sins your writing doth gre it:
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Youre name for my parte: David Dreamer be it.
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And good M. dreamer, your reason long sought for
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Hath combred your capax, I se very sore.
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Snap of the case, and yong and whot bloude:
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Have al to be fumed you, and moved your moode
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That daunger it were, in you of a feever:
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If heate and coller, shoulde cuple together.
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But thankes be to God, a vomet hath rydde:
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A culpin of collops, farre inwardly hydde.
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And now that your reason, hath fair brought it fourth
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It is a fayre reason, and a reason well wourth.
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And fyrst you reply, to myne objeccion:
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Wyth wordes of pleasure, as a man of correccion.
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Wherby you would seeme, a learned man of arte:
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And yet Master Mome, you are out of your parte.
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For as your aunswere, doth but talke and tomble:
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So you answer not me, but rayle out and romble.
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And yet had you markt, my then to your when:
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I no more falted you, then I dyd other men.
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I meane mad raungers, that so raunge at large:
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To medle with matters, not joynd to their charge.
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And such men I bad, as then I bad you:
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To send such whens home, theyr vycar unto.
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And leave dreaming dreames, to busi mens braines:
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Wyth nedeles matters, and as thankeles paynes.
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And thys lytle neded, to have netled your noddye:
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If you were (as you wold be) som prety wise body.
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But you wyl choplogicke, and be Bee to busse:
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But good Master Busserd, be good yet to us.
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And tel me in truth, and lye no whyt then:
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Have not I touched, no parte of your when?
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If you styl dreame not, as you do yet:
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I trowe I have touched, your when every whyt.
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I nede not to byd you, turne my text againe:
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But take your owne text, to aunswer your brayne.
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I touch not one poynte, that you wrote you saye:
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And yet you cal me, a Daniell strayghtway.
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Lo how these two now, agree in them selves:
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They both shame their master, these .ii. elvish elves.
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If you gyve me a name wythout an effect:
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your mastershyps brayne, is madly infect.
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And foule overshot, to bryng two for wytnesse:
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Whych are in themselves, cleane contraries I gesse
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But if my fyrst aunswer, doo seeme such a mistery:
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That you see not your when, ther answered alredye.
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Then to awake you, and rayse you from slepe.
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Good Master Dreamer, marke thys & take kepe.
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your when hath in it, a meanyng of who say,
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Whych ryghtly to meane, is thus ment I say:
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He hathe .v.
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Dreamer.
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Dicar.
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David.
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Mannaring.
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Churchyard.
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Aske him
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where he na-
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med hymself
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Lorde Man
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narynge, and
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howe he used
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it.
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Parturiunt
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montes,
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Nascetur ridi
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culus mus.
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Churchards
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aunsware
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doth but rail.
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Churcharde
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will bee the
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bussinge be.
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That when those things be, which these dais be not
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Then knit you your them up, in such sort as you wot
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But whome you accuse, in whenning so large.
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I meane not to open, nor put to your charge.
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But way with yourself, and sober your braines:
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And defend not a when, mighte put you to paines,
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I coulde perchaunce, make your when larger.
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And serve it before you as brode as a charger,
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And point you your when, by lyne and by Level.
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Againste Jupiters seate, and Jupiters Counsell.
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But I list not so narow, to loke to your whanning
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Nor make to your whanning, so open a skanning
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You bid me not slaunder you, I slaunder you not.
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If your selfe hurte you your owne is the spot.
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You ascribe to me, the manners of Gnato.
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Full clarkelye applyed good master Thraso.
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A tytle as meete, they saye that doo knowe me.
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As your title of dreame, to the matter of Davye.
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But vices in stage plaies, when theyr matter is gon
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They laughe oute the reste, to the lookers on.
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And so wantynge matter, you brynge in my coate.
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In faythe master dreamer, I borowed it not.
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Tho I have hearde, that good fellowes and so.
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Not you (goddes forbod) in borrowed geare go,
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But when every foule, hathe puld home his fether
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The soule and the body, may then dwel together
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And make a right sommer man, to let in the heate
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For clothes in whot wether, do but make men sweat
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Whiche you sir perchaunce, er sommer come out:
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Wyl use for a medicine, in travailinge aboute,
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And colloure the matter, wyth a title of season:
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As doutles your mastership, hath very good reason
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By which al that know you, wil thinke you wel hable
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To thrust a poore Camel, to lurke in some stable.
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And doubtles if dreaming, may eny thinge spede.
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I knowe David dreamer, wyl do it indede.
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But tho I have hearde, a Lion oft rore,
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I never hearde asse, so rore oute before,
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With bitings & bridellings, and raining of necks
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O fine master asse, howe sharpe be your checkes.
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You threaten to bitte me, to trim me and trick me:
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Wehe master asse, what, wyl you nedes kick me.
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Camelles and asses, be bothe mete for burden.
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Then gip fellowe asse, then jost fellowe lurden.
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No nerer my buttocke, jost jade are you winsyng?
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It is mery to see, master asse fal to minsing.
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Did you never here tell of the asse trapt in golde?
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Lo master asenoll, lo do as you shulde.
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you saye I knowe you not, and yet as I trowe:
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you caste your olde coat, a greate whyle a go.
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But if I mistake you, for that a newe springe,
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Hath wrought as a workman, to geve you a new skin
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And that I may not, now know you by eare mark
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Then for a more knowledge, to know you in dark
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Tye a Bel at your tayle, to make some tinginge.
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And ther goes the asse (I shal say) by the ringing.
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But whether I knowe you, or els do not knowe:
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Thus muche I knowe, and am certaine I trowe:
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An asse bindes no camels, tho he bray nere so loud
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Robin hoode so shewed me, out of a cloude.
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And when asses forget, to know what they are,
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Sir Launcelot then biddes, to nip them more nar,
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And Bevis of Hampton, whose cleargy I knowe:
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Biddes me serve you with the same sede you sow.
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And not to contende, for the asses shadowe.
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Whose shadowe I leave you, and bodye also.
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And thus, M dreamer, your folli hath brought me
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To followe you further, then first I bethought me
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Beinge muche sorye my pen so to spende.
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To answere your follyes, and thus lo I ende.
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Graculus or
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natus est Plu
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mis Pavonis
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Churchard is
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a fyne asse.
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De Asino au
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reo.
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The french
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almes, per-
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chaunce hath
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altred him.
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The asse
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wolde have a
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Bell to be
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knowen by
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Churchards
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Poetes.
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Robin hoode
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Sir Launce-
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lot & Bevis.
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Qualia vis
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metere: talia
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grana sere,
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