Mar-Martin.  

I Know not why a fruitless lie in Print;  
May not aswell with modesty be touched  
As truthless Prose, since neither hath his stint,  
And others doings cannot be anouched:  
Then if both Rhyme and Prose impugn the troth,  
How like you him, likes neither of them both.   

Our Prelates (Martin saith) want skill and reason,  
Our Martinists Mar-martine termeth asses,  
The one an other doth accuse of treason,  
He passeth best that by the gallows passes.  
Traitor, no Traitor, here's such Traitorous striving,  
That Romish Traitors now are set a thriving.   

Whilst England falls a makening and marring,  
Religion fears an utter overthrow,  
Whilst we at home amongst ourselves are jarring,  
Those seeds takes root, which foreign seedmen sow:  
If this be true, as true it is for certain,  
woe worth Martin Marprelat, and Mar-Martin.    

MAR-MARTIN.  

ON Whitsun even last at night,  
I dreaming saw a pretty sight,  
Three Mensters in a halter tide,  
And one before who seemed their guide▪  
This foremost looked and looked again,  
As if he had not all his train.  
With that I asked this gaping man  
His name: my name (quoth he) is Lucyan,  
This is a jesuite (quoth he)  
This Martin and Mar-Martin be,  
I seek but now for Machevell,  
And roundly then we go to Hell.   

Two Books upon a Table lay,  
For which two younkers went to play,  
They tripe a die and thus did make,  
Who threw the most should both Books take.  
He that had Martin slang the first,  
An ass it was, which was the worst.  
mar-martin's master in the haste,  
Hoped then to hit a better cast,  
And yet as cunning as he was,  
He could not fling above an ass.  
To gather by the ears they go,  
Which of the asses got the throw,  
The first upon his ass would stand,  
He won it by the elder hand.  
Tush quoth the second that no matter,  
Mine was an ass though 'ttwere the latter,  
And turning back, he spoke to me,  
Who all this while this sport did see,  
be't not a wonder, say of love,  
That none of us should fling above:  
No quoth I it were a wonder  
If either of you two had thrown under.   

What sons: what fathers: sons and fathers fight:  
Alas our welfare, and alas our health,  
What motes, what beams, & both displayed in writing:  
Alas the Church, alas the common wealth.  
What at this time: what under such a Queen:  
Alas that still our fruit should be so green.   

What wanton Calves: what lost out former love:  
Alas our pride, alas our mutability,  
What Christ at odds: what serpents ner adove:  
Alas our rage, alas our inhumilitie.  
What bitter ta … s, what lies in stead of preaching,  
Alas our health, alas our need of teaching.   

Bear gracious Sovereign, Europa's matchless mirror,  
Bear noble Lords renowned counsel givers,  
Bear Clergy men, for yours is all the error,  
Bear common people, common light believers.  
Bear jointly one another's weakness so,  
That though we wither, yet the Church may grow.   

If all be true that Lawyers say,  
The second blow doth make the fray,  
Mar-Mrtins fault can be no less  
Than martin's was that broke the peace.  
Martin, Mar-Martine, barrow and Brown,  
All help to pull Religion down.   
FINIS.