A I Piece of Friar Bacon's Brazen-heads Prophesy.  
By William Terilo.  
VIRESSIT WLNERE VERITAS  
TC   printer's or publisher's device 
LONDON Printed by T. C. for Arthur johnson, dwelling in Paul's Churchyard, at the Sign of the white Horse, 1604.   

To the Reader.  
GEntle Reader, is such a stale title to put upon you, that not knowing your disposition to this same universal gentleness, and perhaps at this time, so full of melancholy, as makes you unfit for any such kindness: I had rather say, you that read, if you have so much idle time to pass away, as may be somewhat better than lost, in perusing this change, or rather dream of the change of times, I pray you for this time to have patience, and if an other time in this you take pleasure, I will as I can take a time to run a better course to your contentment. Friar Bacon's Brazen head, was said (in least) to have spoken of three times: The time was, The Time is, and Time shall be: Now for myself, I cannot go so far: what was, at least of late, I have a little read, heard, and understood▪ of the time present I only dreamt: but of what ●s to come, I can say nothing: and therefore making no Chronicle of the first, and only showing my dream of the second, I will make no prophesy of the third, but leave all to God's pleasure: and so, leaving you to judge of all times as you have reason, I take my leave of you at this time: but rest at all times.  
Your friend as I find cause and time, William Terilo.   


AA   
A piece of Friar Bacon's Brazen-heads Prophesy.  
Time was, Time is.  

WHen I was but a Boy  
And played with little Girls:  
And more esteemed a toy  
Then precious stones, or Pearls,  
Then Nature's love, that knew no pride,  
With little would be satisfied.   

Then friends would not fall out,  
But soon fall in again:  
When none would go about  
To lay a wicked train:  
But kindness was in such request,  
That malice knew not where to rest.   

Content was then a king,  
Although he ware no Crown:  
And 'twas a wondrous thing  
Would make a Maiden frown,  
When 'twas no little grace to Nature  
For to be called a gentle Creature.   

The Milkmaids pail was sweet,  
The shepherds Cloak was clean:  
And when their Loves did meet,  
They did no falsehood mean.  
While Truth did in their passions try,  
There could not pass a thought awry.   

Then observation found  
The passage of those parts:  
Where Reason laid the ground  
Of all Experience Artes.  
While Love was ruled by Grace,  
To seek his spirits resting place.   

Then praise grew of desert,  
Desert of true conceit:  
Whose tongue was in the heart,  
That could not hide deceit.  
But he or she, was held a fiend,  
That would be false unto a friend.   

Then Shepherds knew the times  
And seasons of the year:  
And made their honest Rhymes,  
In mirth, and merry cheer.  
And Sim and Su, would kindly kiss,  
When nothing could be meant amiss.   

Then sheeps eyes were not watched,  
That Lambs did waking keep:  
And when the Hen had hatched,  
The Chickens might go peep.  
When snares were set, both day & night,  
To hang the Buzzard, and the Kite.   

The Hen, the Goose, the Duck,  
Might cackle, creak, and quack:  
When not an Owl would pluck  
A feather from her back:  
Except she crowed, or would not lay,  
Then roast her on a holy day.   

The Butchers than would keep  
Their flesh from blowing Flies:  
And Maidens would not sleep,  
But in the morning rise,  
And hunt a Flea so in the bed,  
He knew not where to hide his head.   

Then neither Wolf nor Fox,  
But that did fear the Hound:  
Nor greatest headed Ox  
But to the yoke was bound:  
Nor drawing Tit, but knew who there,  
Nor Ass, but did his burden bear.   

Then Oates were known from Rye,  
And Barley from the Wheat:  
A Cheese Cake and a Pie,  
Were held good country meat.  
When Ale and Spice, and Curds, and Cream,  
Would make a Scholar make a Theme.   

And then when wooers met,  
It was a sport to see  
How soon the match was set,  
How well they did agree:  
When that the Father gave the child,  
And then the mother sat and smiled.   

Delays were then like death  
To any kind desire:  
When no man spent his breath  
To be no whit the nigher.  
But Truth & Trust so dearly loved,  
That what th'one did, th'other proved.   

Then Cock a doodle do,  
The hour's divided right:  
And old to whit to who  
Did watch the winter night.  
And in the Springs the Nightingale  
Did tell the woods a merry Tale.   

Then beetles could not live  
Upon the honey Bees:  
But they the Drones would drive  
Unto the doted Trees.  
When he that wrought not till he sweat,  
Was held unworthy of his meat.   

Then were no pitfalls made  
But in the frost and snow:  
Nor Woodcocks in the glade  
Could by the Springs go.  
And not a Bird that bore a wing,  
But that would stoop unto his wing.   

Then Russet cloth and Freeze  
Did walk the world about:  
And no man would despise  
The inside for the out:  
But he that paid for what he spent,  
Was welcome where so ere he went.   

Then were there no devices  
To draw on fond desires:  
But Chapmen knew the prices,  
The sellers and the buyers:  
And simple Truth no cunning used,  
How simple Trust might be abused.   

The Markets than were served,  
With good sufficient ware:  
And cattle were not starved  
When Mowcher and his Mare  
Would bring in such a sack of Rye,  
As tried the Miller's honesty.   

Then john, and joan, and Madge,  
Were called the merry Crew:  
That with no drink could fadge,  
But where the fat they knew.  
And though they knew who brewed the Ale,  
Yet must it stand till it were stale.   

Then was good fellowship  
Almost in every house:  
She would not hang the lip,  
He would not knit the brows:  
But he would smirk, and she would smile,  
That all the house would laugh the while.   

Then Handkerchiefs were wrought,  
With names, and true loves knots:  
And not a wench was taught  
A false stitch in her spots.  
When Roses in the Gardaines grew,  
And not in Ribbons, on a shoe.   

Then painting only served,  
For Paper, Wood, and Cloth:  
When health was most preseru'de,  
By labour, not by sloth.  
When few that did of Physic hear,  
But they were stricken with a fear.   

Then he that heard of war  
Was in a woeful case:  
Except it were so far  
He could not fear the place.  
When Peace and Plenty were so sweet,  
As trod all Fortunes under feet.   

The Taber and the Pipe,  
The Bagpipe and the Crowd:  
When Oats and Rye were ripe,  
Began to be aloud.  
But till the Harvest all was in,  
The Moris' Dance did not begin.   

A City from a Town,  
Then by his wall was seen:  
And none did wear a Crown,  
But either King, or Queen:  
And ever upon Easter day,  
All jack a Lents were cast away.   

Then Cloaks were for the rain,  
And Feathers but for beds:  
sheeps Russet would not stain,  
There were no greene's nor reddes:  
Carnation, Crimson, yellow, blue,  
Plain people no such colours knew.   

The Horse, the Cow, the Hog,  
Were kept for work and wealth:  
The Puss-cat and the Dog,  
For safeguard from the stealth:  
Of Rats & Mice, and Wolf, and Fox,  
When few had keys unto their locks.   

Then Owls nor Night Ravens were,  
No tellers of ill haps:  
When Faith had never fear  
Of any Thunder-clappes:  
But look what weather ever came,  
Was welcome in Gods holy name.   

Then Monkeys, Baboons, Apes,  
And such ilfavoured Creatures,  
Of such strange fashioned shapes  
Were hateful to our natures:  
When who heard tell but of a Bear,  
But he could scarcely sleep for fear.   

No Parat, Pie, nor Daw,  
Was idly taught to prate:  
Nor scarce a man of Law  
Was known in all the state.  
While neighbours so like friends agreed,  
That one supplied an others need.   

The shepherd kept his sheep,  
The Goatheard kept his herd:  
And in the Sun would sleep,  
When were no Vermin feared;  
For every Cur would bark or bite,  
To put the wicked Fox to flight.   

And then a good grey Frock,  
A Kercheffe, and a Rail:  
A fair white flaxen Smock,  
A Hose with a good wail.  
A good strong leatherd winter shoe,  
Was well Iwis, and better too.   

Then Iwis, well, go too,  
Were words of no small worth:  
When folks knew what to do  
To bring their meanings forth.  
And wink, and nod, and hem, & hum,  
Could bring my finger to my thumb.   

No cutting of a Card,  
Nor cogging of a die:  
But it was wholly bard  
All honest company:  
And fair square play with yea and nay,  
Who lost the game would quickly pay.   

No matches than were set  
For younger brothers lands:  
Nor Usurers could get  
men's goods into their hands:  
But such as had their wits awake,  
Could smell a Knave before he spoke.   

And hardly in a year  
A man should meet a Thief:  
When Corn was near so dear  
But poor folks had relief:  
And wickedness was loathed so much,  
That no man loved the tickle tuch.   

Then love went not by looks,  
Wherein lay venom hid:  
Nor words were Angle-hookes,  
When men knew that they did,  
But honest hearts, and modest eyes,  
Did make the lovers paradise.   

But now that world is changed,  
And time doth alter Creatures:  
Whose spirits are estrang'de  
From their own proper natures:  
While woeful eyes may weep, to see  
How all things are, and what they be.   

Now every idle Boy  
That sells his land for Pearls:  
Fsteemes his wealth a toy,  
To give to idle girls:  
While graceless love, in Nature's pride,  
With sin is never satisfied.   

Now friends do oft fall out,  
But seld fall in again:  
While many go about  
To lay a wicked train:  
Where malice is so in request,  
That kindness knows not where to rest.   

Content is now unknown,  
In either King or Clown:  
A sight too common shown,  
To see a Maiden frown:  
When she is held a foolish Creature,  
That shows to be of gentle Nature.   

The Milkmaids Pail is sour,  
The shepherds Cloak unclean:  
Where Love hath not the power  
To find what fancies mean:  
While Faith doth so much falsehood prove,  
That many lie, which say they love.   

Now observation finds  
By all Experience Arts:  
How Machavilian minds  
Do play the devils parts:  
While love (alas) hath little grace  
In worshipping a wicked face.   

Now praise must follow pride,  
And Flattery wait on wealth:  
And tongues to silence tide,  
Except it be by stealth:  
While he or she that cannot feign,  
Must die a friends-ships fool in grain.   

The seasons of the year  
The Shepherds do not know:  
While mirth and merry cheer  
To grief and sorrow grow:  
While if a couple kindly kiss,  
The third thinks somewhat is amiss.   

Now sheepes-eys are so watched,  
That Lambs can hardly sleep:  
For when the Hen hath hatched,  
Ere well the Chicken peep:  
The Buzzard and the Kite so pray,  
That half the Brood is stolen away.   

No Butcher now can keep  
His flesh from blowing flies:  
And Maids will lie and sleep,  
That do not love to rise:  
While every bed so swarms with fleas,  
I wonder how they lie at ease.   

How neither Wolf nor Fox,  
But can beguile the Hound:  
Nor gallant headed Ox,  
Will to a yoke be bound:  
Nor drawing Tit, but scorned who there,  
Nor Ass, that will his burden bear.   

Wheat, Barley, Oats, and Rye,  
So like are in the blade:  
That many a simple eye,  
May Soon a fool be made:  
While Curds, and Cream, and Ale, and Spice,  
Will bring out but a poor device.   

Now Cocks dare scarcely Crow,  
For fear the Fox do hear:  
Nor shriche-Owle but will show,  
That Winter time is near:  
And Philomens' amid the spring,  
So fears the worm, she cannot sing.   

And now when Lovers meet,  
It is a grief to see:  
How heavily they greet,  
And how they disagree:  
While that the father's eyes are blind,  
And that the mother is unkind.   

Delays to near disdain,  
Do feed upon desire:  
And breath is spent in vain,  
Where hopes are near the nigher:  
While Truth and Trust have too much proved  
They hardly find where to be loved   

Now humble Bees can live  
Upon the honey Bees:  
That not a Drone dare drive,  
Unto the doted trees:  
While he that works not for his meat,  
Will live upon another's sweat.   

Now pitfalls are so made,  
That small birds cannot know them:  
No Woodcocks in a Glade,  
But Nets can overthrow them:  
And not a paltry carrion Kite,  
But braves a Falcon in his flight.   

Now velvet, cloth of gold,  
And silks of highest price:  
Doth make the good freehold,  
Change title with a trice:  
While he that spends and will not pay,  
Is welcome, when he is away.   

Now words of strange devices,  
Do cheat upon desires:  
While cunning sellers prices,  
Do cozen simple buyers:  
While truth is all so seldom used,  
That honest trust is much abused.   

The markets now are saru'de  
With much unsavoury ware:  
And cattle often starved,  
When that the Miller's Mare  
Can scarcely bring a sack of Rye,  
That one may be a saver by.   

Now john and joan, and Madge,  
Can make no merry Crew:  
The bailie with his badge,  
So braves it in his blue:  
None dare discharge a Carrier,  
For fear of master officer.   

And now from every house  
Good fellowship is gone:  
And scarce a silly mouse,  
Finds crumbs to feed upon:  
While, lower, and poute, and chafe and champ,  
Brings all the household in a damp.   

Now clocks are for the Sun,  
And feathers for the wind:  
sheeps Russet to home spun,  
While a fantastic mind  
Must have a colour strange and rare,  
To make a mad man stand and stare.   

The Horse, the Cow, the Hog,  
Are chiefly kept for breed:  
The Puss-cat, and the Dog,  
To keep the ploughman's feed:  
While not a lock but hath a key:  
For fear the Cupboard run away.   

Now Owls and night-ravens are  
Ill fortunes prophecies:  
When faithless spirits stare,  
If any storm arise:  
And if the weather be not fair,  
Why fools are almost in despair.   

Now Monkeys, Baboons, Apes,  
Are taught to prank and prance:  
While many a Wizard gape,  
To see a monster dance:  
And not a woman that will fear,  
To see the baiting of a Bear.   

Now Parats, Pies and Daws,  
Are finely taught to prate:  
And worlds of men of law,  
Are needful in the state:  
Where Neighbours live so unlike friends,  
That men would judge them to be fiends.   

And now a Satin gown,  
A petticoat of silk:  
A fine wrought bugle Crown,  
A Smock as white as milk:  
A colour'de hose, a pincked shoe,  
Will scarcely make a Tit come too.   

Now as God judge my soul,  
Besides my faith, and troth:  
On every wassail bowl,  
Is thought a simple Oath:  
While stamp and stare, and clapping hands,  
Will scarce make up a beggars bands.   

Now Sempsters few are taught,  
The true stitched in their spots:  
And names are seldom wrought,  
Within the true loves knots:  
And Ribon Roses take such place,  
That Garden Roses want their grace.   

Now painting serves for faces,  
To make the fowl seem fair:  
And health in many places,  
Must not abide the Air:  
And few that have been bit with fleas,  
But run to physic for their ease.   

Now war makes many rich,  
That else had been but poor:  
And makes a soldier itch,  
Till he have scratched a Boor:  
For peace and plenty breed such pride,  
As poor men's fortunes cannot bide.   

The Taber and the Pipe,  
Are now out of request:  
And ere the Rye be ripe,  
The bird will leave the nest:  
And Moris' dances do begin,  
Before the harvest half be in.   

Now many a towns mud wall,  
Doth put a City down:  
And Mistress Finical,  
Doth wear a Bugle Crown:  
And many a Rascal Mallcontent,  
Will make his Easter day in Lent.   

Now cog and foist that list,  
Who will that wit gain say,  
That learns fools had I wist:  
That will and cannot play,  
While fair, and square, and pitch, and pay:  
The gamester calls fools holiday.   

Now worlds of Matches set,  
For elder brothers lands:  
And usury doth get,  
Great wealth into her hands:  
While he that will not watch a knave,  
May bring a beggar to his grave.   

Now hardly in a day,  
But one shall meet a thief:  
Where wealth is hid away,  
And poor have no relief:  
And wickedness is used so much,  
As who but loves the tickle tuch.   

Now love goes so by looks,  
Men know not what they do:  
And words are poisoned hooks,  
That catch, and kill men too:  
While wicked hearts and wanton eyes  
Make hell in steed of paradise.   

Now surely thus it is,  
It is a wonderful change:  
Where all goes so amiss,  
Or else my dream is strange:  
That shew'de me such a world of woe▪  
But God forbid it should be so.   

For dreams are idle things,  
And surely so is this:  
For true appearance brings,  
No proof of such amiss:  
But every thing in such good course,  
As God forbid it should be worse.   

For Lovers must be kind,  
And Neighbours must be friends:  
And when the folks have dined,  
Set up the puddings ends:  
For 'tis an ancient rule in truth,  
That thristines is good in youth.   

Old men must have their saying,  
And rich men must have place:  
Suitors must bide delaying,  
And children must say grace:  
And thieves must hang and knaves must shift,  
And silly fools must have the lift.   

And Law must speak, Wit judge,  
Men live until thy die:  
And Snot must be a snudge,  
And love have leave to lie:  
And wretches work, and wantoness play,  
And who can hold that will away?   

And wags must sing, and dance,  
And gamesters plot for gain:  
Who likes not of his chance,  
Take by to help the main:  
For he that walks without a head,  
May quickly bring a fool to bed.   

Women must have their wills,  
Though men would say them nay:  
Some are such needful ills,  
They cannot be away:  
And he that gives the hum a hem,  
Will sometimes fall aboard with them.   

The Horse must have his hay,  
The Dog must have a bone:  
The Duck must have a Bay,  
The Hawk must have a stone▪  
And John must not be kept from joan,  
For Love can never live alone.   

And therefore thus in brief,  
Let peace endure no strife:  
Let no man offer grief,  
Unto his neighbour's wife:  
Let fair play pass through every hand,  
And let him fall that cannot stand.   

Let God be served, obaied,  
The King both served and loved:  
Church honoured, duties paid,  
Malice from minds removed:  
And it may hap to come to pass,  
To be as well as ere it was.   

And blessed were the days,  
If so the world did go:  
That wit a thousand ways,  
Might reasons comfort know.  
While birds might sing, & men might speak,  
And malice might no music break.   

That eyes might look their fill,  
Words might be uncontrolled:  
And art might have the skill,  
To find the stone for gold:  
And jealous eyes might all be blind,  
That overlook an honest mind.   

That wealth should have her grace,  
In liberality:  
And honour give a place,  
To every quality:  
While panders, jesters, fools, and knaves,  
Might walk about like silly slaves.   

A word might be a band,  
Where needles were an Oath:  
While yea and nay might stand,  
In steed of faith and troth:  
And touch, and take, and pitch, and pay,  
Might drive all cunning tricks away.   

A wink, a nod, a smile,  
Might show the judgement just,  
Where Truth could not beguile,  
Her honest meaning Trust:  
But one in two, and two in one,  
Might make the merry world alone.   

That quarrels might not grow  
Of swaggering, nor quaffing:  
But who begins heigh ho!  
Might set the house a laughing:  
When not a thought of villainy  
Might come in honest company.   

And Gossips might be merry  
And tattle when they meet:  
And cheeks as red as cherry,  
Might show the wine is sweet:  
When Lovers are in talk so sad,  
As if thy were already had.   

Power should be feared for Grace,  
And Law obeyed for love:  
And Virtue take her place,  
In highest hopes behove:  
And Wisdom only honour God,  
And so should sin be overtrod.   

Nought should be scorned but Folly,  
Nor in regard but Reason:  
And nothing loved, but holy,  
And nought in hate but Treason:  
And nought but slander banged,  
And nought but Murder hanged.   

And then the world were well,  
But when will it be so?  
(Alas) I cannot tell,  
And therefore let it go:  
And as God will, so let it be,  
It shall be as it list for me.   

Let every man mend one,  
And I will not be out:  
And Lohn be good to joan,  
Or else he is a Lout:  
And Peter weave, what Parnell spun,  
Good night john Line, and I have done.   
FINIS.