A Whip for an Ape: Or Martin displayed.  

Ordo Sacerdotum fatuo turbatur ab omni,  
Labitur & passim Religionis honos.    


Since reason (Martin) cannot stay thy pen,  
We'll see what rhyme will do: have at thee then.   

A Dizzard late skipped out upon our Stage;  
But in a sack, that no man might him see:  
And though we know not yet the paltry page,  
Himself hath Martin made his name to be.  
A proper name, and for his feats most fit;  
The only thing wherein he hath show'd wit.   

Who knoweth not, that Apes men martin's call;  
Which beast this baggage seems as 'twere himself:  
So as both nature, nurture, name and all,  
Of that's expressed in this apish else.  
Which I'll make good to Martin Marr-als face  
In three plain points, and will not bate an ace.   

For first the Ape delights with moppes and wolves,  
And mocketh Prince and peasants all alike:  
This testing jacke that no good manner knows,  
With his Ass heels presumes all States to strike.  
Whose scoffs so stinking in each nose both smell,  
As all mouths say of dolts he bears the bell.   

Sometimes his chops do walk in points too high,  
Wherein the Ape himself a Woodcock tries:  
Sometimes with flouts he draws his mouth awry,  
And swears by his ten bones, and falsely lies.  
Wherefore be what he will I do not pass,  
He is the paltriest Ape that ever was.   

Such fleering, leering, jarring fools bopeep;  
Such hahas, téehées, wéehées, wild colts play:  
Such sohoes, whoops and hallows, hold and keep;  
Such rangings, ragings, revel, roisters ray,  
With so foul mouth, and knave at every catch,  
'tis some knaves nest did surely Martin hatch.   

Now out he runs with Cuckoo king of May,  
Then in he leaps with a wild Morris dance;  
Now strikes he by Dame Lawsens lusty lay;  
Then comes Sir jeffries ale tub tapped by chance:  
Which makes me guess, (and I can shrewdly smell)  
He loves both t'one and totherother passing well.   

Then strait as though he were distracted quite,  
He chafeth like a cutpurse laid in Ward;  
And rudely rails with all his main and might,  
Against both Knights and Lords without regard:  
So as Bridewell must tame his drunken fits,  
And Bedlam help to bring him to his wits.   

But Martin, why in matters of such weight  
Dost thou thus play the Daw and dancing fool:  
O sir (quoth he) this is a pleasant bait  
For men of sorts, to train them to my school.  
Ye noble States how can you like hereof,  
A shameless Ape at your sage heads should scoff?   

Good Noddy now leave scribbling in such matters,  
They are no tools for fools to tend unto;  
Wise men regard not what mad Monkeys patters;  
'Twere trim a beast should teach men what to do.  
Now Tarleton's dead the Consort lacks a vice:  
For knave and fool thou mayst bear prick and price.   

The sacred sect and perfect pure precise,  
Whose cause must be by Scoggins jests maintained,  
Ye show although that purple Ape's disguise,  
Yet Apes are still, and so must be disdained.  
For though your lions looks weak eyes escapes  
Your babbling books bewrays you all for Apes.   

The next point is, Apes use to toss and tear  
What once their fiddling fingers fasten on;  
And climb aloft and cast down every where,  
And never stays till all that stands be gone.  
Now whether this in Martin be not true,  
You wiser heads mark here what doth ensue.   

What is it not that Martin doth not rend?  
Caps, Tippets, Gowns, black Chivers, Rotchets white;  
Communion books, and Homilies, yea so bend  
To tear, as women's wimples feel his spite.  
Thus tearing all, as all Apes use to do;  
He tears withal the Church of Christ in two.   

Mark now what things he means to tumble down,  
For to this point to look is worth the while,  
In one that makes no choice twixt Cap and Crown;  
Cathedral Churches he would feign untile,  
And snatch up Bishop's lands, and catch away  
All gain of learning for his prouling prey.   

And think you not he will pull down at length  
Aswell the top from tower, as Cock from steeple?  
And when his head hath gotten some more strength,  
To play with Prince as now he doth with people?  
Yes, he that now saith, Why should Bishops be?  
Will next cry out, Why Kings? The Saints are free.   

The German Boors with Clergy men began,  
But never left till Prince and Peers were dead:  
jacke Leydon was a holy zealous man,  
But ceased not till the Crown was on his head.  
And Martin's mate jacke Strawe would always ring  
The Clergies faults, but sought to kill the King.   

Oh that quoth Martin thwere a Noble man!  
A vaunt vile villain: 'tis not for such swads.  
And of the Counsel too; Mark Princes then:  
These rooms are reached at by these lusty lads.  
For Apes must climb, and never stay their wit,  
Until on top of highest hills they sit.   

What mean they else, in every town to crave  
Their Priest and King like Christ himself to be?  
And for one Pope ten thousand Popes to have,  
And to control the highest he or she?  
Ask Scotland that, whose King so long they crossed  
As he was like his Kingdom to have lost.   

Beware ye States and Nobles of this land,  
The Clergy is but one of these men's butts:  
The Ape at last on master's neck will stand:  
Then gegge betime these gaping greedy guts,  
Lest that too soon, and then too late ye feel,  
He strikes at head that first began with heel.   

The third trick is, what Apes by flattering ways  
Cannot come by, with biting they will snatch:  
Our Martin makes no bones, but plainly says,  
Their fists shall walk, they will both bite and scratch.  
He'll make their hearts to ache, and will not fail,  
Where pen cannot, their penknife shall prevail.   

But this is false, he saith he did but mock:  
A fool he was that so his words did scan.  
He only meant with pen their pates to knock:  
A knave he is, that so turns cat in pan.  
But Martin swear and stare as deep as hell,  
Thy spirit thy spite and mischievous mind doth tell.   

The thing that neither Pope with Book nor Bull,  
Nor Spanish King with ships could do without,  
Our Martin's here at home will work at full;  
If Prince curb not betimes that rabble rout.  
That is, destroy both Church, and State, and all;  
For if t'one fail, the other needs must fall.   

Thou England then whom God doth make so glad,  
Through Gospel's grace and Princes prudent reign:  
Take heed lest thou at last be made as sad,  
Through Martin's makebates marring, to thy pain:  
For he mars all, and maketh nought, nor will,  
Save lies and strife, and works for England's ill.   

And ye grave men that answer Martin's mows,  
He mocks the more, and you in vain lose times:  
leaves Apes to dogs to bait, their skins to crows,  
And let old Lanam lash him with his rhymes.  
The beast is proud when men weigh his inditings:  
Let his work go the way of all waste writings.   

Now Martin, you that say you will spawn out  
Your broiling brats in every town to dwell;  
We will provide in each place for your rout  
A bell and whip, that Apes do love so well.  
And if ye skip and will not weigh the check,  
We'll have a springe and catch you by the neck.   

And so adieu mad Martin mar the land,  
Leave off thy work, and more work, hearest thou me?  
Thy work's nought worth, take better work in hand:  
Thou marrest thy work, & thy work will mar thee.  
Work not a new, lest it doth work thy wrack,  
And thou make work for him that work doth lack.   

And this I warn thee martin's Monkeys face,  
Take heed of me, my rhyme doth charm thee bad:  
I am a rhymer of the Irish race,  
And have already rimde thee staring mad.  
But if thou ceasest not thy bald jests still to spread,  
I'll never leave, till I have rimde th'ee dead.   
FINIS