A SKELTONICALL SALUTATION,  
OR CONDIGN GRATULATION,  
AND JUST VEXATION  
OF THE SPANISH NATION,  
THAT IN A BRAVADO,  
SPENT MANY A CRUSADO,  
IN SETTING FORTH AN ARMADA  
ENGLAND TO INVADO.   
 
PRINTED AT OXFORD ●Y JOSEPH BARNES, and are to be sold in Paul's Churchyard, at the sign of the Tiger's head. 1589.   


A SKELTONICAL salutation.  

O KING of Spain  
Is it not a pain  
To thy heart and brain,  
And every vain,  
To see thy train  
For to sustain  
Withouten game  
The worlds disdain,  
Which doth despise  
As toys and lies,  
With shouts and cries  
Thy enterprise,  
As fit for pies,  
And butterflies,  
Then men so wise:  
O waspish King,  
Whers now thy sting,  
Thy dart, or sling,  
Or strong bowstring,  
That should us wring,  
And underbring,  
Who every way,  
Thee vex and pay,  
And bear the sway  
By night and day,  
To thy dismay,  
In battle array,  
And every fray:  
O pufte with pride,  
What foolish guide  
Made thee provide  
To over-ride  
This land so wide  
From side to side,  
And then untried,  
Away to slide,  
And not to abide,  
But all in a ring  
Away to fling:  
O conquering,  
O vanquishing  
With fast flying,  
And no replying,  
For fear of frying!  
So hurt us still,  
As oft as you will,  
So fight your fill,  
So show your skill,  
So sink us, and sack us,  
So burn us, and wrack us,  
So cleave us, and crack us.  
And rend us, and rack us,  
Or if you will remain  
In Castille, or Spain,  
And not venture again,  
Our force to restrain,  
If you so it please,  
You shall take your ease,  
To cure your disease,  
You have got by the scas.  
And though we be poor,  
We will come to your shore,  
And knock at your door,  
As oft heretofore.  
And spare you the cost,  
Which of late you have lost,  
When as you were tossed,  
From pillar to post,  
To your small best.  
And cast on the sands,  
And many Islands,  
Into your enemy's hands,  
And many a rock,  
With many a knock,  
For a laughing stock,  
And a ieu, and a mock.  
But who but Philippus,  
That seeketh to nip us,  
To rob us, and strip us,  
And then for to whip us,  
Would ever have meant,  
Or had intent,  
Or hither sent,  
Such ships of charge,  
So strong and so large.  
Nay the worst barge,  
Trusting to treason,  
And not to reason,  
Which at that season,  
To him was geason,  
As doth appear,  
Both plain and clear,  
To far and near,  
To his confusion,  
By this conclusion,  
Which thus is framed,  
And must be named  
Argumentum à minore,  
Cum horrore & timore.  
If one Drake o,  
One poor snake o,  
Make us shake o,  
Tremble and quake o,  
Were it not trow ye,  
A madness for me,  
To undertake,  
A war to make,  
With such a land,  
That is so mand,  
Wherein there be  
Of certainty,  
As hungry as he  
Many a thousand more,  
That long full sore  
For Indian gold,  
Which make men bold?  
But you were blind,  
As now you find,  
Till in your kind  
You have well tasted  
How you are wasted,  
With all your brags,  
Gennets, and nags,  
And money bags:  
Whereof the most  
The Irish cost,  
As a good host,  
Doth now possess,  
With thankfulness,  
And can no less,  
Than the time bless,  
That you set out,  
And came about,  
With all your rout,  
So proud and stout.  
But woe to the heart,  
That feeling smart,  
For just desert,  
Groweth worse and worse,  
And God doth curse,  
And cannot repent,  
But keepeth intent,  
Come six, or seven,  
Come hell, or heaven,  
To undertake,  
With all he can make,  
A new invasion,  
At the Pope's persuasion.  
But Spaniard proud,  
The Lord hath vowed  
He will defend,  
Unto the end,  
His Church and sheep,  
That his law keep.  
Wherefore to be short,  
I thee exhort,  
For thine own comfort,  
If wit thou have,  
Think him a knave,  
That doth advise  
Such an enterprise:  
For in this cause,  
Our Faith and Laws,  
We will sell our lives,  
Our lands, and wives,  
Too dear for thee,  
When soever it be,  
And ere it be long,  
Make thee sing a song,  
Of O si sciutssem,  
Me continuissem,  
Et non fecissem.  
But now Pope bliss him,  
And Midas kiss him,  
And so I dismiss him,  
To his good Physician,  
Master Inquisition,  
By whose disposition,  
He taketh the diet,  
That will him disquiet,  
And turn upside down,  
(Which would make a man frown)  
Both kingdom, and crown,  
And fame and renown,  
And so sirs valet,  
Et vobis cavete,  
A medicis ignaris,  
Chirurgis avaris,  
Meretrice Romana,  
Insulsa, & insana,  
Et factione Guisiana.  
Except you be so expert,  
That you can convert,  
At your own pleasure,  
Which were a great treasure,  
The Lutheran seas,  
Which do you displease,  
To be of your faction,  
And join in your action.  
Or some way can find,  
To master the wind,  
Or else so to bind,  
That it be to your mind,  
And then regnate,  
Et praegaudio cacate,  
Per omnia monasteria monachorum.    

A Question annexed, touching our seafishe, nourished with Spanish blood.  

BUT now must I call  
My countrymen all,  
And you Scotsmen tall,  
And Irish rugs,  
That were such ●ugges,  
To the Spanish pugs,  
As never were seen,  
With your skeins so keen,  
So bright and clean.  
To tell you a surmise,  
That of late did rise,  
Which is to advise,  
With the learned, and, wise  
Whether for this year,  
It were not best to forbear,  
On such fish to feed,  
Which our coast doth breed,  
Because they are fed,  
With carcases dead,  
Here and there in the rocks,  
That were full of the pocks.  
For physicians hold,  
As I am told,  
Such is our blood,  
Either bad or good,  
In each degree,  
As our aliments be:  
Whereupon at this season,  
Some make this reason,  
Sith our cods, and our cunger,  
Have filled their hunger,  
With the heads, and feet,  
Of the Spanish fleet,  
Which to them were as sweet,  
As a goose to a fox.  
And seeing the pox,  
Possessed each carcase,  
From the slave to the marquess,  
No man can avoid,  
But he may be anoide,  
If he make them his meat,  
Be they little or great:  
Except by some correction,  
Or wholesome confection,  
And by art they be so used,  
That they need not be refused.  
Wherein the counsel,  
Of those that can tell,  
And in learning excel,  
Would do very well.  
But if you inquire,  
Of mass-priest, or friar,  
To hear what they will chatter  
Concerning this matter,  
They will answer anon,  
And swear by Saint john,  
That every one,  
Of the fleet that is gone,  
Was holy and good,  
Both in flesh and blood.  
And therefore object,  
That they could not infect,  
Neither fish, nor seas,  
With any disease.  
But leave to the mire,  
Both priest, and friar,  
Or else to the fire,  
For each is a liar.  
And touching the question,  
Know this that digestion.  
Wheresoever it be found,  
In things that be sound,  
Is of such operation,  
That it maketh separation.  
Of the bad from the best,  
And never doth rest,  
Until in the end,  
It doth clean away send,  
That which doth offend.  
And what can be found,  
Either simple or compound,  
Then a fish more sound':  
Then doubt not I pray you,  
Let nothing dismay you,  
Or trouble, or fray you,  
If fish be well dressed,  
And your stomachs not oppred,  
You need them not detest,  
Howsoever they are fed,  
Or wheresoever they are bred.  
For both frogs and snails,  
And mallardes and quails,  
Though on poison they feed,  
And many a weed,  
And dangerous see de,  
Both to man and beast:  
Yet sith they them digest,  
They do no man harm,  
Be they cold or warm.  
Wherefore as is said,  
Be no more afraid,  
On sea-fish to feed,  
If them thou love or need.  
But now I hear one say,  
This question might stay,  
As needless and vain,  
Because it is plain,  
That the Devil of hell,  
Loved Spaniards so well,  
That he carried them all,  
Both great and small,  
Either dead, or quick,  
Through thin and thick.  
Both body, and soul,  
To his pinnefole,  
And the place appointed,  
For the Pope's anointed.   
FINIS.    


AD REGEM HISPANUM.  

Cum tua non fuerint heroica facta Philippe,  
Risu digna cano carmine ridiculo.    

Ad Hispanum.  

QVI regis Hispanos  
Superbos, & Vanos,  
Crudeles, & insanos  
Multùm aberrasti,  
Cum tuos animasti,  
Et bellum inchoasti  
Contra Anglos animosos,  
Fortes, & bellicosos,  
Nobiles, & generosos.  
Qui te cxcitavit,  
Proculdubiò deliravit,  
Et te fascinavit.  
Nam omnes sperabant,  
Qui te amabant,  
Ideoque juvabant,  
Multùm te valere,  
Viribus & aere,  
Hisque respondere  
Animum generosum,  
Caput tuum annosum,  
Et pectus animosum.  
Sed nunc cernentes,  
Et conspicientes,  
Licet do lentes,  
Omnes tuas copias  
Redactas ad inopias,  
Migrasse ad Vtopias,  
Stupent, & mirantur,  
Plurimùm vexantur,  
Et penè exanimantur.  
At Angli, & Germani,  
Qui sunt Antihispani,  
Et omnes mente sani,  
De tuâ ruinâ,  
Quâ paenâ divinâ,  
Turbaris ad ima,  
Valde laetantur,  
Et exhilarantur,  
Sibique gratulantur,  
Quod stultitia detecta,  
Vitua rejecta,  
Et re infecta,  
Ignominiam nactus,  
Es in fugam actus,  
Et funditus fractus,  
Post tantos clamores,  
Sumptus, & labores,  
Mundique terrores,  
Sed vestros errores.  
Non sapuisti,  
Inquiunt isti,  
Quando cecinisti,  
Ante victoriam,  
Falsam victoriam,  
Et plane ingloriam:  
Anglos superatos,  
Prorsus subjugatos,  
Et ad unum enecatos,  
Cum contrà conspectis  
Hostibus, & detectis,  
Animis dejectis,  
Illico trepidantes,  
Et minime ovantes,  
Vt animas exhalantes,  
Ob ignis horrorem,  
Qui vobis pavorem,  
Incussit, & timorem,  
Fuga matura,  
Per maria obscura,  
Aspera & dura,  
Vobis consuluistis,  
Vt bene novistis,  
Probeque meministis,  
Licet sine bonore,  
Non sine rubore,  
Mundique stupore.  
O Angliae eversores,  
O praeclari victores,  
O promeriti honores!  
Sic saepe redite,  
Quoties libet venite,  
Et Anglos punite.  
Sic operam impendite,  
Sic agros divendite,  
Et sic naves incendite.  
Quis unquam cogitasser,  
Nisi ipsa confirmasset  
Res, & probasset,  
Patres tam acutos,  
Subtiles, & astutos,  
Calidos, & nasutos,  
Vel prorsus neglexsisse,  
Aut parum advertisse,  
Aut non satis persensisse,  
Argumentum a minore,  
Quod suo summo cum honore,  
Magnoque vestro cum dolore,  
Draco vobis nectebat,  
Cum vos ut decebat,  
Pro meritis affligebat,  
Cum vobiscum disputabat,  
Vrbes expugnabat,  
Et singula vastabat.  
Nam si ab uno Dracone,  
Pusillo homuncione,  
Tanquam a crabrone,  
A vobis excitato,  
Paucis stipato,  
Et vix armato,  
Ica estis icti,  
Vexati, & afflicti,  
Superati, & victi.  
Non erat sapientis,  
Compotis mentis,  
Aut dialecticam callentis,  
Angliam oppugnare,  
Et ridiculè irritare,  
Quae potest suppeditare,  
Non paucos Dracones,  
Plurimos scorpiones,  
Et innumeros crabrones,  
Quorum nullus recusabit,  
Aut Hispanum declinabit,  
Cum res ipsa postulabit:  
Sed se virum vult praestare  
Tam per terram, quàm per mare,  
Vbi libet provocare:  
Licet Domini inquisitores,  
Evangelij osores,  
Et patriae proditores,  
Cum antesignano  
Suo Romano,  
Et Antichristiano,  
Ista ridebunt,  
Pro fabulis tenebunt,  
Et pro joco habebunt,  
Quia sunt elati,  
Tumidi, & inflati,  
●t prorsus excaecati.  
Verùm hoc lugete,  
Vlulate & flete,  
Trepidate, & timete,  
Vivere virunculum,  
Valere homunculum,  
Et strenuum Dracunculum,  
Quem Deus excitavit,  
Ab utero segregavit,  
Et in hoc educavit,  
Vt manum extendar,  
Ecclesiam defendat,  
Et vobis rependat  
Sanguinem sanctorum,  
Nec non Indorum,  
A vobis occisorum,  
I● jam arma prendere,  
Naves conscendere,  
Et ad vos contendere.  
Et sic ô Rex valeto,  
Mihique praebeto,  
Aurès, & caveto,  
A fundo, & lapillo,  
Sagitta, & bacillo,  
Draconis pusillo,  
Ne te cogat plorare,  
Palinodiam cantare,  
Et turpiter exclamare,  
Ob amissos honores,  
Sumptus, & labores,  
Et Indiae cultores,  
O si scivissem,  
Aut saltem credidissem,  
Me continuissem,  
Nec Papam amassem,  
Nec filium necassem,  
Nec Deum irritassem:  
Et tunc te accusabunt,  
Salsè subsannabunt,  
Et haereticum clamabunt,  
Examina monstrorum,  
Turba monachorum,  
Fratrum, & sororum,  
Et omnium Deorum  
Deo exosorum,  
Per omnia secula seculorum.   
FINIS.