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EBBA 36285

Society of Antiquaries of London - Broadsides
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A Decree betwene Churchyarde and Camell.
A Decree upon the dreame made by Davy Dicar,
Wyth answer to Camell, whose tauntes be more quicker.

WHer Dicar hath dreamed of things out of frame,
And Churchyard by writing affirmeth the same,
And Camell contendeth, the same to deface,
And therfore hath put hys doynges in place,
Sythe both of those twayne hath set foorth in myter
The wordes of the Authour, the skyl of the wryghter
And runne in thys race, styl chaffyng the bytte
I thynke in thys case much more then is fytte.
I myndyng as much as lyeth in me
To make them both, as in one to agree
Have taken in hande the dreame to defende
And so to recite theyr race to the ende.
Not so to approve my learning or skyll
But onely because it becommeth them yll
From rymyng to raylyng so ofte to dygresse,
Wheras reason and wyt doth wil nothing lesse.
As Dicar hath dreamed so tyme out of mynde,
Some thynges were amys, that some men dyd fynde,
If al thynges were wel, as I woulde God they were,
We shoulde not be plaged from yeare unto yeare,
If all men do ryght, what nedeth the lawe,
What nede any justice to hange and to drawe,
If no man be wronged nor wydowe oppressed,
Then needeth no care to have it redressed,
If no man wyll venter to robbe or to steale,
O England thou hast a good commonweale.
If no man do hurde nor hydeth in store,
Then England shal have no dearth anymore
If no man offend by way of excesse.
Then grace doth abound, the fault is the lesse,
If the lustes of the fleshe be putte oute of ure
The world is amended the people be pure.
If the poore and the nedye be daylye relyved,
What man is so mad, therat to be greved?
If no man do slaunder nor styrre up debate,
Then Dicar I thynke hath dreamed to late.
If no man do flatter, nor fawne for agayne,
Then may it appeare this dreame is but vain.
If all thyng be well, and in the ryght waye,
Why do they not use good lawes to obey.
If no man defraude in bying nor sellyng
Then happy is Englande, for ther is best dwellyng.
If fayth be unfayned, and wordes do once bynde,
The dreame is all false, and so ye may fynde.
If truth do take place and in al thynges encreasse,
Dreame no more Dicar, but lette thy dreame ceasse.
If thys be not so then Camel to you,
I feare me thys dreame wyll prove to be true.
For it is not so geeson wyth us for to heare,
But the effect of the dreame doth dayly appeare.
And every man is now in such takynge,
It passeth a dreame, they fynde it out wakyng.
If you be suche a one as never had peere,
Then are you fauty in none of thys geere.
But seyng your writyng doth seme somewhat quycke,
You seme that ye smarted because ye dyd kycke.
Yet when the dreame was to pryntyng dyrected,
I thyncke of the dreamer ye were not suspected.
And where as you contende it doth not belonge,
For Dicar to dreame of ryght or of wronge.
In dede you do well yf you have done amys,
To shewe hym hys faulte and saye thus it is.
And if you so wel know what doth Dycar behove,
Then ought you to shewe the same to approve.
But me thyncketh you want a frendly goodwyll,
To deface a good matter though the author wer yll.

Dicars
Dreame.

And certes of you both indifferently to tel
I cannot in your raylynges commend your doyngs wel.
And both of you twayne are yet to me unknowen,
yet can I ayde your doynges, as if they were myne own.
ye passe from your purpose in such unworthy sorte,
ye make of your doynges a very laughyng sporte.
ye close and ye glose, in sekyng to be fyne,
ye taunt and retaunt almost in every lyne.
ye affyrme ye have red both Terence and Cato,
ye count ye do but flatter, ye well resemble Gnato.
And looke howe much dyffers a Foxe from a foole,
So much do you dyffer from Cato and hys schoole,
For Cato doth affyrme ther is no greater shame,
Then to reprove a vyce, and your selves to do the same.
And because I wyl not seeme your fancy to embrace,
As touchyng your debate, I answer in thys case:
Me thynketh in wrytyng ye both have such skyll,
ye marre a good matter and make it very yll.
Wherby to say the truth it appeareth wel unto me,
your names and your wyttes unnumerable be.
Therfore do not thynke that ye can be forborne,
But such as be readers shall laugh you to scorne.
And when that your doynges be throughly perused,
Then by the same deedes ye shal be accused.
Ceasse nowe in season cast all contempt away,
Be subject unto reason, and make no more delay.
And eyther of you twayne do not refuse to knowe,
As Cato doth enstructe you but strayght embrace it so
whych though my skil be smal, here thought I to reherse
The text and sence wyth all of every kynde of verce
Contra verbosos noli contendere verbis,
Sermo datur cunctis animii sapiencia paucis,
Cum recte vivas ne curas verba malorum
Arbitrii nostri non est quid quisque loquatur.
To strive wyth men of many words, refrain I the advise
It is not geven to every man that he shal be godlye wyse
If thou lyve wel do not regarde what wicked men do say
For why? it lyeth not in us such wycked tounges to staye,
Thys is it that ye have read whyche if you lyst to knowe
He wil aswage your sturdi stormes wich you have reised so
Take this in worth good Reder now expound it to the best
For I have sayd to theyr devyce, now harken to the rest

The judgement of the Authour.
Somethyng is amys and ever shal be so,
Scripture writeth thys as learned men do knowe.
And some men have the gyft therof to speake and wryte,
Whych fal yet at a lyfte to frayle and fonde delyte.
It doth behove us all so justly as we canne,
To do ryght well in deede, and eke to wryte it thanne
How be it in hym I judge much greater faulte there is,
Whych nought can saye nor do, but that whych is amys.
The best may be amended, and that is very true
The more that have offended, the more we ought to rue,
If any fal from grace gentelly hym assayle,
Burden hym wyth charity, no rygour can prevayle,
For why, if that the shepherde do wander from the waye,
No marvell if the shepe therafter go astraye
Some men perhappe ther be wyl take me to the wourst
I pray you judge of me, as I spake it at the furst
For it becommeth yll in wryttyng to contende,
Wythout wytte or skyll to make a raylyng ende
Take me to the best, as one to you unknowen
Whose worthy wyts I do commend & wold with you be one.
Not mindyng so assuredly to spende and waste the daye,
To make the people laugh at me, & here I make a staye.


Finis
quod W. Ilderton.
Imprinted at London by Rychard
Harvy, dwellyng in Fosterlane.

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