A new Ballet of the straunge and most cruell Whippes
which the Spanyards had prepared to whippe and torment English men and women:
which were found and taken at the overthrow of certaine of the Spanish Shippes
in July last past. 1588. To the tune of the valiant Soldiour.
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AL you that list to looke and see
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what profite comes from Spayne,
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And what the Pope and Spanyards both,
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prepared for our gayne.
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Then turne your eyes and bend your eares,
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and you shall heare and see,
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What courteous minds, what gentle harts
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they beare to thee and mee.
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They say they seeke for Englands good,
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and wish the people well:
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They say they are such holie men,
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all other they excell.
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They bragge that they are Catholikes,
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and Christes only Spouse:
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And what so ere they take in hand,
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the holie Pope allowes.
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These holie men, these sacred Saints,
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and these that thinke no ill:
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See how they sought against all right,
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to murder, spoyle and kill.
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Our noble Queene and Countrie first,
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they did prepare to spoyle:
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To ruinate our lives and lands,
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with trouble and turmoyle.
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And not content by fire and sword
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to take our right away:
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But to torment most cruelly
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our bodies night and day.
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Although they ment with murdring hands
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our guiltlesse bloud to spill:
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Before our deathes they did devise
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to whip us first their fill.
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And for that purpose had preparde
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of whips such wondrouse store,
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So straungely made, that sure the like
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was never seene before.
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For never was there Horse nor Mule,
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nor dogge of currish kinde,
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That ever had such whips devisde
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by any savadge minde.
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One sorte of whips they had for men,
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so smarting fierce and fell:
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As like could never be devisde
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by any devill in hell.
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The strings whereof with wyerie knots,
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like rowels they did frame,
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That every stroke might teare the flesh
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they layd on with the same.
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And pluckt the spreading sinewes from
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the hardned bloudie bone,
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To pricke and pearce each tender veine,
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within the bodie knowne.
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And not to leave one crooked ribbe,
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on any side unseene:
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Nor yet to leave a lumpe of flesh
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the head and foote betweene.
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And for our seelie women eke,
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their hearts with griefe to clogge,
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They made such whips wherewith no man
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would seeme to strike a dogge:
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So strengthened eke with brazen tagges,
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and filde so rough, and thin
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That they would force at every lash
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the bloud abroad to spinne.
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Although their bodies sweet and fayre,
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their spoyle they ment to make:
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And on them first their filthie lust
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and pleasure for to take.
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Yet afterward such sower sauce
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they should be sure to finde,
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That they shoulde curse each springing braunch
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that cometh of their kinde.
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O Ladies fayre what spite were this,
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your gentle hearts to kill:
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To see these devilish tyrants thus
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your childrens bloud to spill.
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What griefe unto the husband deere,
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his loving wife to see
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Tormented so before his face
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with extreame villanie.
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And thinke you not that they which had
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such dogged mindes to make
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Such instruments of tyrannie,
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had not like hearts to take
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The greatest vengeance that they might
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upon us every one:
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Yes, yes, be sure, for godlie feare
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and mercie they have none.
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Even as in India once they did
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against those people there,
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With cruell Curres in shamefull sorte
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the men both rent and teare:
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And set the Ladies great with childe
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upright against a tree,
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And shoot them through with pearcing darts,
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such would their practise bee.
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Did not the Romans in this land,
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sometime like practise use,
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Against the Brittaines bolde in heart,
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and wonderously abuse
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The valiant King whom they had caught
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before his Queene and wife,
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And with most extreame tyrannie
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dispatcht him of his life?
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The good Queene Voadicia,
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and eke her daughters three:
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Did they not first abuse them all
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by lust and lecherie:
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And after stript them naked all,
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and whipt them in such sorte:
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That it would grieve each Christian heart
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to heare that just reporte.
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And if these ruffling mates of Rome
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did Princes thus torment:
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Thinke you the Romish Spanyards now
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would not shewe their desent.
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How did they late in Rome rejoyce,
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in Italie and Spayne:
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What ringing and what Bonfires,
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what Masses sung amaine.
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What printed Bookes were sent about,
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as filled their desire:
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How England was by Spanyards wonne,
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and London set on fire.
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Be these the men that are so milde,
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whom some so holie call:
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The Lord defend our noble Queene,
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and Countrie from them all.
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