A Paumflet compiled by G. C.  

To master Smyth and William G.  
praying them both, for the love of our Lord,  
To grow at last to an honest accord.   

THe finest wit that is alive  
Cannot devise by tongue nor pen  
The spiteful malice to describe  
That reigneth now i diverse men  
We may perceive by them that strive  
For casting out a card of ten  
That charity is set at nought  
So reigneth malice in man's thought.   

Which thing doth force me thus to write  
Concerning the uncharyte  
Of two that now with hateful spite  
Do blame each other openly  
To none of both I own despite  
Ne'er this is none Apology  
For neither part: but strife to stint  
Is ground of all mine argument.   

The strife I speak of, is betwixt  
One master Smyth & William G.  
Their writings are confusely mixed  
With biting words, and villainy  
In each of them, a will is fixed  
To maintain still his vanity  
Which hath a very feeble ground  
Wherewith his enemy to confound.   

All this began, first by a knave  
I wot not who, that wrote a troll  
Wherein he did but rage and rave  
He knew full little of saint Poule  
Which writ the love that men should have  
And for one did this troll control  
Lo master Smyth a book hath pend  
This trifling troller to defend.   

Some say, it was for flattery  
And some do say, it was for meed  
For to advance himself thereby  
Such men (they say) do soonest speed  
That least can skill of modesty  
But what he meant, thereby in deed  
If I shall judge, as I do take it  
nought but malice, made him make it.   

For thorough out his railing book  
Of charity no word is spoken  
Till all his malice purpose took  
For malice, forthwith willbe wroken  
And whoso list therein to look  
May judge him well, by his own token  
A railing knave, for to defend  
Is, in no wise man to commend.   

If master Smyth had marked well  
The purpose of that foolish daw  
Which trolled upon the Lord Crumwell  
With ragged rhyme, not worth a straw  
He might have found that wretch rebel  
Both against God, and all good law  
And not have blamed William G.  
For blaming his uncharyte.   

But when W. G. did feel the prick  
So threatting and malicious  
I wonder not though he did kick  
For why, it was too slanderous  
And for the kick, was somewhat quick  
Lo, he again as envious  
A testy answer straight did write  
With check for check, & spite for spite.   

But of this strife, the chief effect  
That maintained is so knappyshly  
Is risen by the great suspect  
Of popyshnes and heresy  
One saith the other is infect  
With such a spice of knavery  
I will not judge, which it should be  
But both their writings are to see.   

These sorts are both to dyscommende  
In any man, where they be found  
For papists do nought else pretend  
But Christ's glory to confound  
And Heretics, God them amend  
Have but a very feeble ground  
If that they preach, that is forbade  
Or differ from the word of God.   

For heresy is nothing else  
But swerving from the true belief  
As holy writ expressly tells  
And he is worse than any thief  
That thereagaynst in aught rebels  
Or he that seeketh his relief  
Of false gods, and not of Christ  
Is no les▪ then an Antichrist.   

But he that hath a popish heart  
And will not unto Christ be won  
He seekyth not, but to subvert  
All that the king hath well begun  
No reason may his will convert  
But he will do, as he hath done  
With tooth and nail, for to uphold  
His blind belief, and errors old.   

I write not this, meaning thereby  
That master Smyth is of that sort  
Ne'er I judge not that willyam G.  
Is such as Smyth doth him report  
But write my mind with charity  
The parties both for to exhort  
That he that finds him in the crime  
May first recant, his railing rhyme.   

But this is for to dyscommende  
In master Smyth above allthing  
That he so rashly would defend  
A brainless buzz, in his writing  
And afterward still forth contend  
With malice, and with threatening  
Against that poor man wylliam G.  
far from all godly charity.   

Wresting the scriptures as him list  
For his own purpose out of frame  
But he that strife doth so resist  
That perfect word, he doth defame  
Wherein our health doth whole consist  
For that is it, the very same  
That teacheth us the love and dread  
To God and to the King our heed.   

Perchance that Smyth will take it ill  
That I judge him so openly  
No force for that, it shall not skill  
For he is known sufficiently  
But I protest, that in my will  
I mean nothing maliciously  
But yet men must, for all his heat  
Repute him hot, that see him sweat.   

Likewise the other did offend  
With writing so impacientlye  
For that is no way to amend  
An heart that cankers inwardly  
But he his cause, should still defend  
With meekness and with charity  
And not with malice nor despite  
But suffer meekly wrong and right   

even as the Gospel doth us teach  
Which is our chief profession  
For Paul himself did alway preach  
That, for the chief confession  
Of christian hearts, to make them stretch  
Their faith unto Christ's passion  
The only entry into health  
All other entries are but stealth.   

Lo, thus I find them both to blame  
wishing to each with all mine heart  
An honest mendment, without shame  
And pray to Christ that he convert  
Our judgements all into such frame  
That they and we, in every part  
withouten grudge, debate or grief  
May firmly stand in one belief.   

Which teacheth us to love and dread  
Him that hath power under God  
I mean the king that is our head  
That here in earth doth bear the rod  
Of true justice in Christ'S stead▪  
By precise words we be forbade  
Him to withstand, or to wythsaye  
In every cause we must obey.   

For whom, as for our only guide  
Our greatest help and chiefest stay  
That daily doth for us provide  
To save us sound without decay  
In war and peace on every side  
With one accord let us all pray  
To send his grace, us here among  
Honour, increase, good life and long.   
God save the king.   

¶ Imprinted at London by richard Banks. Cumprivilegio ad imprintendum solum. And be to sell in Pater noster row, at the sign of the Roose,