¶ The Contention bettwyxte Churchyard and Camel▪ upon David dicers Dream set out in such order, that it is both witty and profitable for all degryes.  
Rede this little communication between Churchyard: Camel: and others more  
Newly Imprinted and set forth for thy profit gentle Reader  
Imprinted at London by Owen Rogers, for Mychell Loblee dwelling in Paulls' churchyard.  
ANNO M.D.LX   

The Preface.  
Draw ne●e gentle reader and hearken to me,  
Her stondes David Dicar Dreaming as you see.  
He sleapethe, and wak's not, but dremethe on still.  
To scan what he dreameth each man hath a will.  
Some doth him blame for his restless mind.  
Which sleep causeth him Dream by natural kind  
And some doth praise his labouring rest,  
Though Dreminge in sleapinge be not the best.  
And sun saith that sleeping needs no dreams at all  
Which yet never hath been, nor to come never shall.  
And some would correct David's Dream to amend,  
Before he hath dreamed his Dream to the end  
And some do interpret what his Dream me●t.  
declaring the secrets of David's intent.  
And some do immagyne David Dicar to lie  
In doges sleep this Dreaming, each man for to try.  
But David dreams on and thinks no man ill.  
And sufferthe each man to work on his will  
And some men doth whisper such neppes in his ear●  
which eft now and there David dicar doth hear,  
Then answering sleapinge he momblethe this out,  
And ●awllethe them fomblers that stondes him about.  
As the whetstone being dull good edges doth set.  
So David dreaming still, sharp wits he doth whet  
And causeth the waking, to work all there will.  
From sleeping his dreaming to fetch out the skill  
Yet some will not cea●● to shake him by the slyve  
With taunting poor David from dreaming to drive  
And some in this dreaming doth ponder so deep  
That in stoddinge of dreaming they fall a sl●epe.  
And some are so wearied that they may no more  
Answer david dicar as they died tofore.  
And some cannot scarcely answer a when  
Till time doth determine to show forth a then  
Scythe certain of uncertain no stronger taketh hold  
Let him blow the coal, that is most a could  
Sure this is the best way for wisemen to take.  
To let sleepers and dreamers alone till they wake,  
As plainly appeareth by this fine witted men.  
In tossing and tumbling of David dicars when.  
Thus beating their brains in vain they do toil.  
And clokethe their wits for fear of the foil.  
The one doth affirm the other doth defend.  
Yet neither of either canons make anende.  
The end of the preface.   

Davy Dycars' Dream.  
WHen faith in friends ●ere fruit and foolish frenzies fade,  
And crafty catchers come to nought, & hate great love hath made.  
When fraud flieth far from town, & loiterers leave the field,  
And rude shall run a right full race, & all men be well wild when gropers after gain, shall carp for common wealth,  
And wily workers shall disdain, to fig & live by stealth when wisdom walks a fit, and folly sits full low,  
And virtue vanquish pampered vice, & grace gins to grow.  
when justice joins to truth, and law looks not to meed,  
And bribes help not to build fair bowers, nor gifts great gluttons feed.  
when hongere hides his head and plenty please the poor,  
And niggerdes to the needy men, shall never shut their door-  
when double dark deceit, is out of credit worn,  
And fawning speech is falsehood found, and craft is laughed to scorn  
when pride which picks the ours, gapes not for garments gay.  
Nor ia●eles wear no velvet weeds, nor wandering wits bear sway  
when riches wrongs no right nor power poor put back,  
Nor covetous crepes not into Court, nor learned, living lack  
when slipper sleights are seen and far fatches be found,  
And private profit & self love shall both be put in pound:  
when dete no sergeant dreeds, and cowrtiers credit keep,  
And might melles not with merchandise, nor lords shall sell no sheep:  
when lucere lasts not long, and hurd great heaps doth hate,  
And every wight is well content, to walk in his estate,  
when truth doth tread the strets and liars lurk in den,  
And Rex doth reign and rule the roast, and weeds out wicked men:  
Then baelful barns be blithe that here in England won,  
Your strife shall flint I undertake, your dreadful days are done.   

To David Dicars when.  
¶ To him that doth dream, David Dicars when.  
And even so from him, to such other men.  
From when unto when, to come to this when  
when fools of your folly, will work like wise men,  
And know their own faults and leave faulting other.  
And first mend themselves, and then warn their brother,  
envying none, for that their sort is not  
Such as they would be, like others I wots.  
Gods of degree, to rule and bear sway,  
whose manners meet not, to stand in such stay,  
And yet would have mouths, to roar like the Lion  
Being but Asses brute of condition 
Eso●n●de ●sino ●ugens   
forgetting that order doth thus ask and crave,  
That each should himself in order behave.  
As baestes of low sort, to be mek of their mind,  
To those that be higher, and greater of kind.  
The Bore not to brag, to strive with the lion.  
The Hart not to stand, with the Bull in contention,  
The Ox that doth draw, to think himself able,  
To run for a wager, with the Horse of the stable.  
It grease not, it cords not, nor orderly fits  
That men should find fault, with Gods and their wits  
jupiter's seat stands some what to high.  
For us to judge it, that come it not nigh.  
And judgements or guess, in any such sort,  
May serve to the Gods, for a laughter and sport  
To see how judas, would fain become juda.  
To just at the life, of juli apostata,  
Let Beasts that be meet, for cart and carriage,  
Lean to their labour, as man to his marriage.  
And since we be members of one common wealth.  
Let us join aptly, as fits for our health.  
The eye as the eye, let him stare and look,  
And let the leg learn, to bow and to crook.  
Let the hand answer, to help and to do,  
As the will of the heart, shall will him unto.  
And let not the foot, make murmur and cry.  
To ask why our head, is placed so high.  
Our instrument iaeres, it makes no right melody,  
If we thus tune not to order our armony.  
Then master when, when both you and I,  
And every man ●lswyl learn to apply,  
To our right metyarde, and keep our just compass,  
And look not so deep in an other man's glass.  
And leave dreaming dreams of dead David Dicar,  
And send such whence home, to our person or vicar.  
And there with remember, this verse of Cato,  
Whose wisdom doth warn us, with these words I trow.  
Que soles culpare, ea tu ipse: ne feceris. when we mark this nips,  
And leave drawing diales, on other men's doing  
And learn for to look to our own works and brewing  
Then I say then, when you again when:  
will say well yourself, and such other men,  
And all folk will do well. Lo thus I end then,  
All things shall be well, which god grant. Amen.   

A Replication unto Camel's Objection.  
IF right or reason, might move you to speak,  
I would not you blame, your malice to wreak:  
Or if your judgement, were up right and clean,  
You would not so rudely, construe what I mean.  
How should your foli, so plainly be known.  
If that your wisdom, abroad were not blown.  
You bid me amend, whose life you know not.  
As though that in you, there were not a spot.  
A tale of a tub, you brag and you brawl,  
Wherein you do rub, yourself on the gall.  
You touch not one point, whereof that I wrote.  
You leap orethe hedge, and seeth not the gate,  
I muse what you mean, to discant and preach,  
Upon a plain song, so far past your reach.  
why Camel I say, will you needs be fine?  
what, will ye be known, for a dirty divine?  
It seems you are learned, past reason or wit,  
or else you could not, the mark so well it.  
You have so good latin, you ●an want no pewter,  
Though ye are no fool, yet you are a neuter.  
You writ like a clerk, or seyene well in Cato,  
Forgetting your name, which Therens' calls Gnato.  
I can do no less, but show what you are,  
Since you are a Daniel, dark dreams to declare.  
Your knowledge is great, your judgement is good,  
The most of your study hath been of Robin hood.  
And Bevis of Hampton, and sir Lancelot de lake,  
Hath taught you full oft, your verses to make:  
By sweet saint Benet, I swear by no fool,  
you are not to learn, you plied well your school.  
Your wits are not breched, who list you to preeve,  
you flock and you flout, and smils in your sleeve.  
I praise you no more, lest you think I flatter,  
I must now return, to thee pith of my matter.  
How can you well prove, that I do envy,  
At any estate, be they low or high,  
Or that I spy fauts, in jupiter's seat,  
why are you so mad, on me thus to bleat,  
It grease not▪ it cords not, it fits not you say,  
That men should find fault, with gods that b●resway  
If plain Davy Dicar with wise men be skande,  
He seeketh uprightly, I dare take in hand.  
I writ not so rashly, but I rul● my pen.  
In faith you mistake, Davy Dicars, when,  
you take chauke for cheese, and day for dark night,  
Of like you are sourblinde, or ye look not a right:  
you purpose I know, you were in such care,  
Against this good time, your purse was full bare.  
you thought to obtain, some garment or gift,  
Then did you invent, to make a foul shift,  
To flatter the Gods, and get a new cote,  
That made you to sing, so merry a note.  
you feign me like judas, you think me not so,  
For if I were he, than you would me know,  
I bear not the bag, that may you reward,  
But yet my good will. I pray you regard.  
you say that order, would have each degree,  
To walk in his calling: then how may this be,  
That you out of frame, do blother and bark,  
So like a cur dog, at every good work.  
Is this the order, that Camels do use?  
Because you are a beast, I must you excuse.  
A Camel, a Capon a Cur sure by kind,  
I may you well call, since so I you find:  
Because you have rattled, and railed to mytch,  
Now give me good leave, to claw you where ye itch.  
And if that you think, I rub be you to sore,  
Then give me no cause, to scratch you no mo●e.  
Hold this for certain, and for azure thing,  
The ofter you stir me, the more I will sting.  
sins that you will needs, awaken my wits.  
I will seek for you, both snaffuls and bits.  
To hold in your head, and make you to rain.  
And bite on the bridle, for anger and pain.  
Then will I devise, for you such a burden.  
As long as you live, you shall bear a lurden:  
A Camel by kind, will bear more at once.  
Then iii great horses. pick-out for the nonce.  
More meeter for yion, to bem some stable.  
To bear heavy burdens, I think you more able.  
Then being as you are, wal●ing abroad.  
Your lummes are well made to carry a great load:  
All beasts that be made, for cart and carriage,  
Should lean to their lab on as man to his marriage.  
with horses and Asses, you are well acquainted.  
Their manners in order, right well you have painted.  
I doubt of your shape, some monster you are,  
Because such a name, to me you declare.  
Your words and your works, are tokens right sure.  
You are some brute beast, in man's form and picture.  
Right happy he were, that had you in charge.  
He should gain much money, to show you at large.  
what cause, or what toy, did trouble your mind:  
To make you seek fauts, where non you can find,  
Your instrument jars, your mirth is not sweet,  
You play on false strings which thing is unmeet.  
Your ear is not good, you know no sweet sound.  
You can not espy, where fault may be found.  
So far out of tune, I never heard none,  
Nor so much past shame, nor yet so far gone.  
As you in this case, God send you to amend.  
which seeks to learn me, to bow and to bend:  
Direct well your steps, by order and line.  
and slander me not, nor no works of mine.  
In all my writings, righthonestly I meant.  
If they betaken, to my true intent:  
They shall breed no strife, nor no error sow.  
when truth shallbe tried, and virtue shall floow.  
Thus yet once to when, again I return.  
Because that you seem, against it to spurn.  
Until this long, when, do well come to pass.  
This world shallbe nought, & you shallbe an Ass.  
Since you do inuci, all vice to maintain,  
You show that you have, a foolish light brain,  
God send you more wit, now keep your head warm.  
Or else the next winter, mai do you some harm.  
Thus here I do enke, and rest for this time,  
Except you procure me, to make a new rhyme.   

Camel's rejoinder, to Churchyard.  
¶ To Churchiard or Mannaring, or for lak of a name:  
To Dicar the dreamer, if you know the same.  
May a man be so bold (an order to keep:)  
To bid you good morrow, now after your sleep?  
If I may be so saucy, and make no mistaking.  
God speed master Dreamer, if you be waking.  
But Dreamer or Dicar, or as you say Davy:  
which shall I now call you as our Lord save ye, 
He hath v. Dramer. Dicar David. Mannaring Churchiard.   
Three names are to many for one man alone:  
And two more makes five, for failing of one.  
If you had two other the men might you seek: 
Ash him where he named himself Lord Mnaring, and how he used it   
Then had you a name, for each day in the week.  
But no man doth doubt, that so sundry name:  
Should have other lomming then out of good frames.  

Parturi●● mon●es, N●scetur ridiculus m●s●. Churchards aunsw●●● doth but ●ayll.  And the fore I think, they come every eachone:  
Out of some old house, though the posts begun  
Or else kept in memory, for that they were found:  
In some old stock, in some noble man's ground.  
And so do remain, for mind of our ancestry:  
As Syb to Sybbel, sibbes very properly.  
So jermaines lips joined, and so M. Churchyard:  
And Mannaring met, both in an Orchard.  
And David the Dicar, came in with his spade:  
And dolve up the Dreamer, till the line was made.  
And thus perconsequence, sins your writing doth 'gree it:  
Your name for my part: David Dreademer be it.  
And good M. dreademer, your reason long sought for.  
Hath cumbered your capax, I see very sore.  
Snap of the case, & young and hot blood:  
Have all to be fumed you, and moved your mood.  
That danger it were, in you of a feever  
If heat & collar, should cuple together.  
But thanks be to God, a vomit hat rid:  
A culpin of collops, far inward hid.  
And now that your reason, hath fair brought it fourth  
It is a fair reason, and a reason well worth.  
And first you reply, to mine objection:  
With words of pleasure, as a man of correction.  
Wherbi you would seem, a learned man of art:  
And yet Master Mome, you are out of your part  
For as your answer, doth but tatele and tumble:  
So you answer not me, but rail out and rumble.  
And yet had you marked, my then to your when:  
I no mo●e faulted you, then ● did other men.  
I mean mad raungers, that so range at large:  
To meddle with matters, not join to their charge.  
And such men I bade, as than I had you:  
To send su●h whence home, their vicar unto.  
And leave dreaming dr●mes, to bus● men's br●●nes:  
with needles matters, & as thankeles pains.  
And this little needed, to have nettled your noddy,  
If you were (as you would be) some pretty wise body. 
churchyard wy●● being buskins be●   
But you will choplogick, and be Bee to buss:  
but good Master Busserd, be good yet to us.  
And tell me in truth, and lie no whit then:  
Have not I touched, no part of your when?  
If you still dream not, as you do yet:  
I trow I have touched, your when every whit.  
I need not to bid you, turn my text again.  
But take your own text, to answer your brain.  
I touch not one point, that you wrote you say: 
His ●e● ca●yon   
And yet you call me, a Daniel straightway.  
Lo how these two now a, 'gree in themselves:  
They both shame their master▪ these ii elvish elves.  
If you give me a name without an effect:  
Your mastership's brain is madly infect.  
And foul overshot, to bring two for witness:  
Which are in themselves clean contrary I guess.  
But if my first answer, do seem such a mystery:  
That you see not your when, there answer already  
Then to a wake you, and raise you from sleep.  
Good master Dreamer, mark this and take keep.  
your when hath in it, a meaning of who say, 
His wlt   
which rightly to mean, is thus meant I say:  
That when those things be, which these days be not.  
Then knit you your then up in such sort as you wor.  
But whom you accuse, in whenning so large.  
I mean not to open, nor put to your charge.  
But way with yourself, & sober your brains:  
And defend not a when, might put you to pains.  
I could perchance, make your when larger.  
And serve it before you, as broad as a charger.  
And point you your when by line and by Level.  
Against jupiter's seat, & jupiter's Counsel.  
But I li●t not so narrow, to look to your whanning.  
Nor make to your whanning, so open a scanning,  
You bid me not slander, you I slander you not.  
If yourself hurt you, your own is the spot.  
You ascribe to me, the manners of Gnato.  
Full clarkelye applied good master Thrato  
A title as meet, they say that do know me.  
As your title of dream, to the matter of davy.  
But vices in stage plays, when their matter is gone.  
They laugh out the rest to the lookers on.  
And so wanting matter, you bring in my coat.  
In faith master dreamer, I borrowed it not.  
though I have heard, that good fellows and so.  
Not you (goddess forbade) in borrowed gear go,  
But when every foul, hath pulled home his feather.  
The soul and the body, may then dwell together  
And make a right summer man, to jet in the heat  
For clothes in what wetther, do but m●k men sweat  
which you sir perchance, ere summer come out:  
will use for a medicine, in travailing about,  
And colour the matter, with a tule of season:  
As doubtless your mastership, hath very god reason  
By which all y● know you, will think you well able  
To thrust a poor Camel, to l●tke in some stable.  
And doubtless if dreaming may any thing speed,  
I know David dreamer, will do it in deed,  
But though I have heard, a Lion oft roar,  
I never heard ass, so roar out before.  
With bitings & bridelling and raining of necks.  
O fine mastet ass, how sharp be your che●kes.  
You threaten to bit me, 
Gra●●● lu●orna● tu● est pi●●●s Pa●o●●●  to trim me and trick me.  
With master ass▪ what, will you needs kick me.  
camels and asses, be both meet for burden  
Then gip fellow ass, than iast fellow lurden.  
No nearer my buthoke, iast jade are you winsing:  
It is merry to see, master ass fall to mincing.  
Did you never ●ere tell of the ass trapped in gold? 
Churchard is ● fine ass.   
Lo mast asenoll, lo do as you should.  
You say I know you not, 
De Astu● aure●. The french alms, perchance hath altered him  and yet as I trow:  
You cast your old coat▪ a great while ago.  
But if I mistake you, for that a new springe,  
Hath wrought as a work man, 
The ass would ha● a Bell to be know● by.  to give you a new skin  
And that I may not, now know you by ear mark.  
Then for a mor knowledge to know you in dark.  
Tie a Bell at your tail, to make sometinginge.  
And there goes the ass (I shall say) by t●e ringing.  
But whether I know you or else do not know: 
Churchas●s Po●t●s. Robin 〈◊〉 Sir L●●celot aut ●●cuis ●u●●lia ●i●metere ●ilia gra●ali●●   
Thus much I know, and am certain I trow:  
An ass binds no camels, though he bray neure so loud.  
Robin hood so showed me, out of a cloud.  
And when asses forget, to know what they are,  
Sir Lancelot then bids, to nip them more nar.  
And Beniz of Hampton, whose clergy I know:  
Bids me serve you with the sams seed you sow.  
And not to contend, for the asses shadow.  
Whose shadow I leave you, and body also.  
And thus. M. dreamer your folli hath brought me  
To follow you further, than first I bethought me  
Beineg much sorry, my pen so to spend.  
To answer your follies, and thus lo I end.   

The Surrejoindre unto Camels rejoinder,  
WHat life may live, long undefamde, what works may be so pure  
What virtuous thing, may flourish so that faultless may, endur  
What things be past, or yet to come, that freely may rejoice,  
Or who can say he is so just, he fears not slanderous voice.  
This Slanderous peals, doth ring so loud, he sounndes in every ear,  
whose craft can fain, such ple●aunt tunes, as truth were present there.  
But it is falsehood, fraught with fraud, & sings a note to high,  
Though that he bring, some pleasant points, for to maintain a lie.  
The simple wits, are soon beguiled, through sclaunderes sweet deccayt,  
But those that knows, such fishing hooks, shall soon perceive the ●ayt.  
Unto whose ears, and iudgegements eke, I do commend my works,  
To save me from, the Serpents sting, which under flowers lorkes.  
with help of truth, I hope to flee, the venom of this Beast.  
Or else I trust, in his own turn, to cast him at the least.  
Although he whet, his teeth at me, and stings me with his tongue,  
Yet with the just, I am content, to learn to suffer wrong  
Since Prince's pears, and Kings themselves, their Acts and godly laws.  
Are slandered oft, through evil tongues, and blamed without cawes.  
Look what is done, & truly meant, to put things in good stay  
Are wrested, & perverted oft, by evil tongue I say.  
The Preachers voice, which threineth wrath, the sinful to reduse.  
Doth purchase hate, for telling truth: lo, this is man's abuse.  
The child doth blame, the birchen rod, whose strips may not be spared.  
Because his wits, unto his wealth, hath verismal regard  
The wicked sort, whose vice is known, by those which writes their lives.  
Can not abide, to hear their fauts, but still against them strives.  
The horse can not abide the whip, because it mends his pace,  
Thus each thing hates, his punishment, we see before our face,  
Therefore I blame, this man the less, which sclandreth me so much.  
And casteth venom, like the Toad, because his faults I touch:  
What cause in me, what hate in him, what mattier hath he sought,  
within this Davy Dicars Dream, which for the best was wrought.  
Unto the good, it is not ill, nor hurtful unto none.  
Nor unto those, that loves the light, it is no stumbling stone.  
But those that stands, to watch a time, the innocent to sp●ll,  
May wrest the truth, clean out of frame, and turn good things to ill.  
Out of the sweet, and fairest flower, the spider poison takes.  
And yet the Bee, doth feed thereon, & their with honey makes.  
The Caterpillar, spills the fruit, which God made for man's food,  
The fly like wise, where he doth blow, doth still more harm than good.  
Thus may you fee, as men do take, the things whereon they look  
They may it turn, to good or bad, as they apply the book  
But every man, to his own work, an honest meaning hath.  
Or else those hasty, slanders tongues, might do good men moches cath.  
He feels much ease, that suffer can, all things as they do hap.  
who makes a pit, for other man, may fall in his own trap  
who flings a stone, at every dog, which barketh in the street.  
Shall never have, a just revenge nor have a patient spirit.  
Therefore I suffer, all your words, which is mine enemi known,  
I could you serve, with taunting terms, and feed you with your own.  
But I mind not to chock your tale, before the worst be told.  
Then may I have, free choice and leave, to show you where you scold.  
Good sir if I should you salute, as you saluted me.  
Then should I call you, Davy too, and so perchauce you be.  
Ye multiply, five names of one, a progeny you make.  
As your descent, did come from thence, where of you lately spoke.  
Though such as you, have nicknamed me, in gest and half in scorn,  
Churchiard I am, in Shrewisbury town, they say where I was borne  
You put your name, to others works, the wekling to be gild.  
Me think you are somewhat to young, to father such child  
The truth there of, is eeths to know, a blind man may discus  
Ye are in number, more than one, ye say, be good to us.  
You say, I did not answer you: I could no mattier find  
Nor yet can see, except I should, at folli waste my mind  
The greatest shame, and most reproach, that any man may have,  
Is for to write, or scold with fools, hose nature is to rave.  
Since railing rims, or comes your wits, talk on and babble still,  
I not intend, about such chats, my pen nor speech to spill.  
I neither fume, nor change my mood, at aught that you have said.  
The world may judge, your railing tongue, full like a beast hath brayed.  
And where you say, you can point out, by line and level both.  
Of all thee, whence, of Dycars' dream, you say you know the troth.  
It is a wilful ignorance, to hide, I know full well,  
I fault, against Jupiter's seat, or against his counsel.  
You show your ●elfe, not Jupiter's friend, if you can truly prove.  
A fault in me, & doth it hide for fear or yet for love.  
As for my works, & thankless pains, in this & such like case.  
I shall be redi to defend, when you shall hide your face.  
think you I fear, what you can do, my ground is just & true  
On every word, which I did speak, I fore not what ye brew  
Fill all your chargers, as ye list, and dishes every eachone,  
when they be full, and runneth over, I will cast you a bone.  
which shall be hard, for you to pike, though that your wits be fine,  
I can soon put you out ofsqar from your level and line:  
I will not answer word for word, to your rejoinder yet,  
Because I find no matter there, nor yet no point of wit,  
But brabbling blasts, and frantic fits, & chiding in the air,  
Why do you fret thus wi●h yourself, fie man do not despair:  
Though that your wits, be troubled sore, if you in bedlam wear.  
I think you should be right well kept, if you be friended there:  
If you were scourged once a day, and fed with some warm meat.  
You would come to yourself again, after this rage of heat  
This may be said without offence, if that your wits you had  
You would not lie nor rail on me, nor far as you were mad.  
But as it is a true proverb: the threatened man lives long,  
Your words can neither hang nor draw, I fear not your ill tongue.  
The world is such it doth contemn, all those that virtue have.  
An evil tongue hath no respect whose name he doth deprave  
what is the cause of mortal food, which doth in friends arise.  
But commonly these slander tongues, which still delyte in lies:  
who maketh war, who soweth strife, who bringeh Realms to ruin:  
But plenty, pride and evil tongues, whose voice is near in tune,  
The root and branch and chefeest ground, of mischiefs all and some,  
Is evil tongues, whose sugared words, hath wise men overcome.  
The proof where of you put in use, your words ye frame and set,  
To creep into some noble hearts, a credit for to get.  
The eating worm within the nut, the sweetest curnell seek,  
So do you draw where gain is got, and there you look full meek.  
But under those fair angels loks is ●yd a devilish mind  
I durst lay odds who trust you ●ong, fulfalse he shall you find.  
Now to return unto thee cause, which made you first t● write,  
Y●● show yourself to be a fool, to answer me in spite,  
The first and last that I have seen, of all your nipping gear  
Is not well worth when fruit is cheap, the paring of a pear  
Your sudden storms and thunder claps, your boasts and brags so loud.  
Hath done no harm though Robin Hood, spoke with you in a cloud.  
Go learn again of little John, to shoot in Robin Hods bow,  
Or dicar's dream shallbe unhit, and all his, whence, I trow,  
Thus hear I leave, I list not write, to answer where you rail:  
He is unwise that strives with fools, where words can not prevail.   

A Decree between Churchyard and Camel.  
¶ A decree upon the dream made by Davy Dicare,  
with answer to Camel, whose taunts be more quicker.  
Where Dicar hath dreamt of things out of frame.  
And Churchiarde by writing affirmeth the same,  
And Camel contendeth, the same to deface,  
And therefore hath put his doings in place.  
Sith both of those twain hath set forth in mitre  
The words of the Author, skill of the writer.  
And run in this race, still chaffing the bit.  
I think in this case much more than is fit.  
I minding as much as lieth in me.  
To make them both, as moon to agree  
Have taken in hand the dream to defend  
And so to recite their ●ace to the end.  
Not so to approve my learning or skill  
But only because it becometh them ill.  
From tuning to railing so oft to dygresse,  
where as reason and wit doth will nothing less. 
dicar's Dream   
As Dicar hath dreamt so time out of mind,  
Some things were amiss, that some men did find,  
If all things were well, as I would god they were,  
we should not be plagued from year unto year,  
If all men do right, what needeth the law,  
what need any justice to hang and to draw,  
If no man be wronged nor widow oppressed,  
Then nemeth no care to have it redressed,  
If no man will venture to rob or to steal,  
O England thou hast a good common weal.  
If no man do hurde nor hideth in store,  
Then England shall have no dearth any more  
If no man offend by way of excess.  
Then grace doth abound, the fault is the less,  
If the lusts of the flesh be pute out of ure  
The world is amended the people be pure.  
If the poor and the needy be daily revived,  
what man is so mad, thereat to be greued●  
If no man do slander nor stir up debate,  
Then Dicar I think hath dreamt to late.  
If no man do flatter, nor fawn for again.  
Then may it appear this dream is but vain.  
If all thing be well, and in the right way,  
why do they not use good laws to obey.  
If no man defraud in buying nor selling.  
Then happy is England, for there is best dwelling.  
If faith be unfeigned, and words do once bind,  
The dream is all false, and so ye may find.  
If truth do take place and in all things increase,  
dream no more Dicar, but let thy dream cease,  
If this be not so then Camel to you.  
I fear me this dream will prove to be true.  
For it is not so geeson with us for to hear,  
But the effect of thee dream doth daily appear.  
And every man is now in such taking,  
It passeth a dream, they find it out waking▪  
If you be such a one as never had peer,  
Then are you faulty in none of this gear.  
But seeing your writing doth seem some what quick,  
You seem that ye smarted because ye did kick.  
Yet when the dream was to printing directed,  
I think of the dreamer ye were not suspected.  
And where as you contend it doth not belong,  
For Dicar to dream of right have or of wrong.  
In ded you do well if you done amiss,  
To show him his fault, and say thus it is,  
And if you so well know what doth Dicar behove,  
Then ought you to show the same to approve.  
But me thinketh you want a frendli good will.  
To deface a good matter though the author were ill.  
And certes of you both indifferentli to tell  
I cannot in your raili●ges commend your doings we●l.  
And both of you twain are yet to me unknown,  
Yet can I aid your doings, as if they were mine own,  
Ye pass from your purpose in such unworthy sort.  
Ye make of your doings a very laughing sport.  
Ye close and ye gloze, in seeking to be fine,  
Ye taunt and retaunt all most in every line.  
Ye affirm ye have red both Terence and Cato,  
Ye count ye do but faletrye well resemble Gnato.  
And look how much differs a fox from a fool,  
Sum much do you differ from Cato and his school,  
For Cato doth affirm there is no greater shame,  
Then to reprove a vice, and yourselves to do thee same.  
And because I will not seem your fancy to embrace,  
As touching your debate, I answer in this case.  
Me thinketh in writing ye both have such skill,  
Ye mar a good matter and make it very ill.  
whereby to say the truth it appeareth well unto me,  
Your names and your wits unnumerable be.  
Therefore do not think that ye can be forborn.  
But such as be readers shall laugh you to scorn.  
And when that your doings be thoroughly perused,  
Then by the same deeds ye shallbe accused.  
Cease now in season cast all contempt away,  
Be subject unto reason, & make no more delay.  
And either of you twain do not refuse to know,  
As Cato doth instruct you but straight embrace it so  
which though my skill be small here though I to rehearse  
The text and sense with all of every kind of verse.  

Contra verbosos noli contendere ne●bis,  
Sermo datur cunctis avimi sapiencia paucis,  
Cum recte vivas ne cures verba malorum.  
Arbitri nostri non est quid quisque loquatur.   
To strive with men of many words, refrain I the advise  
It is not given to every man that he shallbe godly wise.  
If thou live well do not regard what wicked men do say  
For where it lieth not in us such wicked tongues to stare  
This is it that ye have read which if you list to know.  
He will assuage your strudy storms which you have raised so  
Take this in worth good Reder now expound it to the best:  
For I have said to their device, now harcken to the rest.  
Some thing is a miss and ever shallbe so  
Scripture writeth this as learned men do know.  
And some men have the gift thereof to speak and write  
which fall yet at a lift to frail and fond delight.  
It doth behove us also justly as we can,  
To do right well in deed, and eke to write it then.  
How be it, in him I judge much greater fault, there is  
which nought can say nor do, but that which is a miss.  
The best may be amended, and that is very true  
The more that have offended, the more we ought to rue  
If any fall from grace gently him assail,  
Burden him with charity, no rigour can prevail,  
For why, if that the shepherd do wander from the way,  
No marvel if the sheep thereafter go astray  
Some men perhaps there be will take me to the wourst,  
I pray you judge of me, as I spoke it at the first  
For it becometh ill in writing to contend,  
without wit or skill to make a railing end  
Take me to the best, as one to you unknown,  
Whose worthy wits I do comend & would with you be one.  
Not minding so assuredli to spend and waste the day,  
To make the people laugh at me, and here I make astaye,   

Western Will, Upon the debate betuyxte churchyard and Camel  
¶ Row thy boat thou ioli ioli mariner, and wind well up thy sail,  
For thou mightest never wind it up better thine own self for to availle.  
THere ware three meri mariners, that dwell in  
Maldon mead  
That could skill of wind and ride, of canell and of stream  
And eke their compass well direct, from every shore and stead  
And ware acquainted with the rocks, and sands the might them queam  
From Maldon haven to Billin gesgate, aswell I undertake  
As any three of many years, such course that used to make.  
A Craier had they priest to sail and all their takle yare  
And all their fraughty brought a board▪ to wend to Maldon town  
But for the wind was not the best, before they forth would far  
They thought the city for to rowne, and view it up & down  
If thing uncouth they there might find, where with to move some glee  
When they came home to Maldon mead, among their company.  
To Paul's they hied as place most fit, for news in their device  
Among the printers 'gan they search, and busily inquire  
For things that might for Novelty, at hon be had in price  
The printer said he thought he had, to pleasen their desire  
And drew then near into his shop, and 'gan unfold then light  
A roll of Rithimes, where of the first, the dickers dream it height.  
Then followed answer to this dream, to Davie dickers when  
A solemn process at a blush, be quoted here & there With matter in thee margin set, whereon to gaze they 'gan  
But they ne wist for aught I knew, but Hebrew that it were A Replication was the next, which well I understood  
For that I found no word there in, but it was english good.  
But joy here the fourth quod he that maketh up the mess  
I warrant you a clerkly piece, see how it is be decked (As selleres are not now to learn, their wares to praise I guess)  
The name there of Rejoindre was a term to them suspect  
Because it sounded of the law, as though some case it war.  
Of jointure right for way ward wives, to pleaden at the bar  
But ay the printer pressed on, and take them all quoth he  
I not your nammes, but brethren mine, I you assure can  
They be as good as in this to w●in any shop there be  
Our names quoth he, and one stepped forth, a wight young water man  
Wylkin is my name▪ and this is watte, and Herman high the third  
As trusti and sure at tackle knot, as ever with cord was gird.  
Well Wilkin, Watte, an ●erman gent, by all your names I swear  
Ye shall not need upon my word, to stand in any doubt  
A merrier jest ye can not find, a board with you to bear  
So will ye say yourselves I know, when ye have red it out.  
But if ye be unlearned to red, as mariners lightly be  
Then if ye list to hark a while, ye shall it hear of me.  
For God sweet bones quoth watkyn tho, for bokyshe be we not  
we know to halse, and strike and vicre, and up the anchor way.  
And cables fold, and climb to top, and then go toss the pot  
But if thou wilt of courtesy, of this ussom what say  
By god mi peni shallbe twain and theirs shall make a groat.  
Though we therefore should go to bed, at night with thirsti throat.  
Nay then quoth he Saint George to borrow, the day is ours all.  
Ye shall it hear each line at length, but first and wot ye what  
The parties twain between the which, this strife is now befall.  
It me behoveth first to tell, good order asketh that  
wherefore a while give ear I pray, till I those twain set out  
And then ye may your fancy say, by turn each one about.  
This Diker sem's a thriving lad, borough up in preres school.  
The ploughman stout, of whom I think ye have full often hard.  
Aswyncking swain, that handleth well his spade and other tool  
Full loath he ware for lake of heed, they should be reckly marred  
For why in them and in his hand, his living chiefly stands  
He brags not ofrentes fees ne of entailed lands  
And yet he seemeth a curtouse ●ind, & comen of good stock  
For Dikers few in my country, so well ythewed been  
I warrant you who liest him prove, he is no spriteless bloke  
But to mytale, In cockowe time when ech●▪ thing 'gan to green  
all wearied from his work, returns this Davy Diker hende  
And for to ease himself the bet, full softly 'gan he wend.  
Unto his house within a grove a little there beside  
His bottle and his bag, he hent, he left them not behind  
Wherein remained but small surplus, of viand at that tide  
And down he sat him on the bench, of meat had little mind  
But 'gan complain his verinesse, and one his hand his bed  
He did arrest, and cleped wife as though he would to bed.  
Lo dame he said thou wottest I trove, that candle is to dear  
To sit up late and ●raten out our thirft till farther night  
And eke I vil no supper have, let be put out the fiere.  
And haste we all to bed I say, that rise be times we might  
And in he stepped, and soon he was uncased in his couch  
And at his head as was his wont, he laid up his pouch.  
To weary labouring men, full sweet doth seem such rest  
He had not lain long, but loud he 'gan to rout  
And softly by his side his wife herself to bed addressed  
The dog, the cat, and syb the maid, each couchen them about.  
Into their h●rnes where they war wont, and all was huist and still  
And Davy 'gan▪ to Dream his Dream, as we de●ysen will.  
Then Wylkyn 'gan at once upbraid, and swore by gods dine heart  
A rush for books, me liefer war that I could tell this tale  
Then of your scabling for to have, a load by wain or cart  
Straw for such peltry, it is good to stuff an empty male  
I durst it take upon my soul in all this lither thing  
Is not a tale that may be found so much to my liking.  
Yea yea quod wat, myself by gisse, in youth might this have learned  
If I so wise or happy had been to follow my father's will  
who would have spent upon my school so much as he had earned  
But I was bend another way, me thought it very ill  
All day to rucken on my tail, and porens on a book  
It was nothing unto my pay full soon I it forsook.  
But Herman here our other mate, it was a witty elf  
Ado, ado, quod herman then & printer yet go forth  
what was the Dream that Davy met as he it told himself  
For yet me thinketh by thy fear, that Dream is some what worth.  
Content quoth he give hear again, an● hear me what I sayne.  
I shall you read this dream a right, as here I find. it plain   

Danye Dikers' dream.  
WHen faith in friends bears fruit, & foolish fancies fade.  
And crasti catchers come to nought and hate great love hath made  
When fraud flieth far from town: and loy terers leave the frlde  
And rude shall run a rightful race, and all men be well wild  
when gropers after gain, shall carp for common wealth  
And wily workers shall disdain to fig and live by stealth  
when wisdom walks a loft and folly fits full low  
And virtue vainquisheth pampered vice and grace begins to grow:  
when justice iones to truth and law looks not to miede  
And bribes help not to build far bowers, nor gifts great gluttons feed  
when hunger hides his head and pleinty pleaseth the poor  
And nyggardes to thee needy men sha●l never shut thee door  
when double dark deceit, is out of credit worn  
And fawning speech is falsehood found & creaft is length to scorn  
when pride that pikes the purse, gapes not for garments gay  
Nor Ia●elles wear no velvet wiedes nor wandering wits bear sway  
Nor covetous crieps not into court nor learned livings lack  
when slper sleights are seen and far fatches be found  
And private profit and self love shall both be put in pound  
when depteno sergaunt dreads and courtiers creite keep  
And might melles not with merchandise, nor lords shall sell no sheep  
when lucere lasts not long, and hurde great heaps doth hate  
And every wight is well content, to walk in his estate  
when truth doth tread thee streets, and lieres lurk in den  
And Rex doth reign and rule the roast, and weeds out wicked men  
then baleful barns ●e blithe, that her in England won  
Your strife shall stint I undertake, and dreadful days be done  
This Diker was no fool I guess, quod watte and Herman tho.  
It seemeth well he him bethought upon the worlds change  
And of his drudge and myckel pain, when he to be● did go  
And them to dream of such like thī●es, perdi it is not strange  
such as mitalke & thoughts have been▪ the day before certain  
Such things again at night in sleep, my drem hath showed me plain.  
And eke I harden ones, a right good doctor tell  
that such as farced go to bed, with meat and drink good store  
Their dreams alway to them in more disorder fell  
Then if they empty went to bed, as ye have hard before  
That Davie did whose supper was, so slender & so short  
That nothing else but weariness, and nature caused him snort  
A dream, a straw quoth Wylkin then, by God it was noswenyn  
Men dream of devils, of apes, and owls, of naked girls and boys  
But I ne think this dream is such, it hitteth things so even  
It talketh with good reason round, of fancies ne of toys  
But of such things as I can not, amenden with my wit  
Nor never shall I think be found, reform every whit.  
No quoth the printer no, that meant not, thee dream I undertake  
But where as many things been found, that man's wit can not fetch  
To mend as many as we can, and thee rest a pattern make.  
To bring our stat as reyghe to them, as man's device can manche  
As out of Plato's comen wealth, a tale I could you tell  
of many things that he would have, and not but very well:  
That never yet in earth ware found, as he would have them done  
Quod watte no more of Plato's lore, I ●en him not by gysse  
Ne care not much except he could some rules for change of moan  
But well I wots algates and am full sure of this  
That I have hard the preachers speak, of asmuch as is here  
And of more things than any man, is able to come near  
But ay me thinks it is fine, for such a rude upland  
It ware enough for a right good clerk, at instyvynsty taught  
He had is help his parish priest I venture durst my hand  
what though he could it dream thus right, yet I believe it nought  
That he could with such quaint proverbs, his dream at large indite  
And eke I think thee silly swaene, did never learn to write.  
No watte quod thee printer tho, thou harpest on the truth  
This Diker had a friend in court that well could handle pen  
with whom he was acquneinted erst, as play fellows in youth  
whofor they then companions war did him vouch safe to ●en.  
And loved Davy evermore, in him such truth there was  
And Davy when he came to town, unsene would not him pas.  
Befell upon a market day, when he this dream have had  
That he to London lis● resort, for things that s●od him nied  
He found his friend, and all this dream, at length unto him read  
And he for that it seemed a thing the penning worth in died  
'Gan draw it into frame, and shapen as ye hard  
And one that lust it fantasien, to printing it preferred.  
Lo now I have the half performed, that I you erst behight  
what manner man this Diker was, and how this dream came out  
And now I will to Camel pass, if ye therein dilight  
By whom this jolly stir, is chief brought about  
And tell fro point to point, as erst I did of this  
His worthiness as I it know and as the saying is.  
The Camel seems to me to be, a great outlandish beast  
Quod Herman to the printer then, that long his peace had hold  
with bunches twain upon his back, as high as any horse at least  
Of which I do remember is in the new Testament told  
That every rich gnof, may up to heaven as easily sty  
As may this wild unruly beast, pass through a nidles eye.  
And eke we none in England have except they been us brought  
Of late that I ne know, out of some far country  
And by my troth if I shall say you plainly to my thought  
Though none we had, it skills not much, if they so unruly by  
But printer trust thou me, I nylle it not believe  
A beast to speak and written this, my reason doth not giene.  
The printer loud he loughe, and so did all the chop  
And said that Herman spoken as much as might be said  
But ware thee Camel here quoth he, he would be in thy top  
No force quoth he, of beasts I am nothing afraid  
Though I do seld on horse bake come, there can no Camel kind.  
Ty●l I know more, let me to say, thee fancies of my mind.  
Maty know thou then quoth he, that Camel is a man.  
Nay printer soft quod wylkin tho and suffer me to speak  
what cause had he that moved him, to answer to this when  
Or why should he of other all, so fumysshlye ●ut break  
To bark at davy Dykers dream that meant him none unrest  
Except he ware one of those sorts, that would have redressed  
Pardien a Dream is but a Dream, a fancy of thee head  
And he ne meant I hope that men, should it for gospel take  
But as asweven or fantasy, that each one should it read  
For thy me thinks accordingly, the name did davy ma●e  
And now a man (ye say he his) against a Dream to spurn  
Me think it either smells of craft, or else of some heart burn.  
What soft, mate quoth the printer tho, and he began to lower  
You gin ware hot I ween, against thee summer son  
Ye may be cooled ere ye come home, with sommefreshe April shower  
This to much before that I my tall have all ydonne  
Here first an end of all, and then pronoucen doom  
Or else depart ye calmly hence even such way as ye come.  
Herman was full woe, when he, thee printer saw thus wroth  
And had but little lust to try out the tale  
And to his fellows 'gan upbraid, ye see thee day hence goeth  
And eke ye know aswell as I, the water gins to vale  
And by the vanes I spy the wind, to be by south at west  
That we us haste to Maldon mead, I think it be the best.  
And therefore now give us quoth he, and take thou here thy groat  
And though that wilkin and this wat, have showed their hasty wit  
(We Maryneres be salteey frete, we can no but god wot)  
I pray the printer be content and take no grief at it  
We have at homme a mariner that can some skill of book  
He shall them see and read them us, and so their leave they took.  
And I that present was at all, for that I liked the sport  
'Gan print it in mi fickle head in order as I could  
And for to pen it out the bed did to my celfe resort  
And drew it there into a some, as I had hard it told.  
Not with such words as they it spoke, but in such words as I  
Had partly learned of my dame, and list to fantasy.  
Such hap may hap, to give a second fit.  
If cause shall hap, and lay sure serve for it.   

Of such as on fantasy decree and discus: on other men's works, lo Ovid's tale thus.  
BUde Pan would needs one day in company  
Compare to mend Apollo's melody?  
And took his homlye pipe and 'gan to blo  
The jentil god, that saw his rudeness lo  
(Although himself knew how for to excel)  
Contented stood, to here his cunning well:  
pan played, and played boystiouslye  
Apollo played but much melodiously  
And such a tune with such music gave  
As well became his knowledge for to have.  
Midas stood by to judge and to decree  
which of them both should best in music be  
And as he heard pan play & use his song,  
He thought it such as he had liked long  
And wont was to here of others oft  
Apollo's▪ harp and song went very soft  
And sweet and strange: as none might sweeter be:  
But yet thought Midas this music likes not me.  
And therefore straight full loud he cried and said:  
Pan. to mine ears of both hath better played,  
Quoth then Apollo sins thus thou deemest Pan▪  
Me to excel that God of Cunning am,  
And so dost judge of things thou canst not skill  
Midas henceforth lo thus to the I will  
Thou shalt have ears to show and tell I wis:  
But what thy skill and what thy reason is.  
which on thy head shall stand and witness be  
How thou haste judged this rural God and me  
Nay be contend for I have it said  
A full sad man stood Midas then dismayed  
And as he felt to try if it so was  
He found he had two ears as hath an Ass  
Newly grown out where as his own ears stood  
For changed then his colour and his mode  
But yet for thy, having no word to say  
He shook his ears and sadly went his way  
I know no more, but this I wots and know  
That though the Phrygian king be buried lo  
And both his ears eke with him hidden be  
And so far worn that no man shall them see,  
sins such there are that live at this day yet  
which have his skill, his judgement and his wit  
And take upon them both to judge and know  
To them I wy●he even thus and to no more  
That as they have his judgement and his years,  
Even so I would they had his fair long ears.  
T. Hedley.   

A supplication unto mast Camel.  
PLease it your maship, good mast Camel,  
Te hear a poor man his tale for to tell,  
And thou●● you be, a man of great debility,  
Denyt not to hear, a man of low ability,  
And I sire you, to take it, for no presmountation,  
For y●he ha be brought up, after unrude fashions  
Sy●, now Ihill show eye, the matter and the case,  
which am come to speak you, and like your fair face,  
There is one churchyard, that hath you spleasar done,  
And ych am come to sire ye, to be good master tone,  
But 'twas unleudly do, and after an homely sord,  
So fair a beast as you ben, to tiyen up so short,  
I pray you holden scused 'twas but, for lack of nourt  
For I'm sure, hannot been, past vii or viii yer a cout●●r  
'twas but blockshly y do, of one so unbase as he,  
To spout with such a geman, of so high a peti degree:  
Yer of a strudy stock, for your father near raised his farms.  
Nor near sold his lands: for ych herd an hazard of arms  
Blaze all the aunciall proditours, of your old axeltrie▪  
which come from old▪ housen of much inpossibilitie,  
And many upstauncial men were brouded in that nest,  
But your mother in her arms (he said) bore a big best:  
Beseech ye good mast Camel, give over and leave your fume  
And I'll be bound that Churchard shan no more so parsume  
But if he be so sedgious, to written an other, when,  
Bum fay chil treat no more do withen what ye can.  
Your daily▪ Belman, at your manndement, Good man Geffer ay Chapel, of whipstable.   

To goodman Chapels supplication.  
HArry whobal hark, mast Camel hath yzeene  
Thy vengeance ●ory bill, and tompes the as I ween,  
And is by Christ full zad, that thou comest out to late  
Thou mightest have had a place vor Pekehorn at his gate.  
But vortune friended not, chote it very well,  
The more hard hap thou hadst, ich do thee plainly tell.  
Uor zure charred him swear by gogs dign dainty bones  
Thou shoodes be new yshod to tramp these oldestons  
And westwards shodeste have zit, for blearing of thin eyes  
Uor zomer now a trowes, will hurt the zore with flies,  
But he no nyggon is, a will vordethe a flap,  
Thou shalt have a vortayle man, to put upon thy cap.  
And god's benison to, tho, churchyard tie him short.  
churchyard were a bell atstaill to make his friends sport.  
And Camel chops holy water, for churchyard and forth.  
Uor he will to you both, a holy chaplain be.  
And if a wittin not, ere two days be ago,  
He will you sprinkle both, as varre as I do know.  
'tis a vengeance beast, and big to bear you all,  
And if you zit not vast, bum faith, man to fall  
Thomas Camel.   

Steven Steple to mast Camel.  
BEst ye merry vayre zyr I trow ye be mast Camel,  
I canon message to you zent, vrom goodman Geffray Chapel.  
A hate ye zent a bottle a hay, and bad command nia tie ye,  
And word ding he spoke ye to, a prayed ye that ye would hy ye,  
And zuch kind daintrels as a had, zun draf he hate ye zent  
A zyerd ye wor to gnab deron vor der is no be terin Kent-  
This good and zoote an alzo new, to mend your zy●lish brain.  
Uor weal a zete ye ha' great stud, & zet yourself to pain,  
Him wrayed yer wites would zoro ye veil, ye give to rave so zone,  
A dynkte ye will be mad, all out bevore dat May be done:  
And much he merueilt that ye would, so chorlshly to 'em wright,  
And that ye zent 'em such an Anser, that zounded noding right,  
To Harry Hoball zyr ye wrote, as pearit in your letter,  
zwap yer speckles up se nase, and look about ye better,  
And Anser Geffray chapel zyr, that took ye the zupplication,  
Uor his name is not Harry whobal, ich zwear by god's zavation  
How zay ye now yore speckles be on, can ye vorstande his bill,  
Ych ween a treat ye (zereverence a you) to do Churchard non il.  
And her cha brought your bill again, corrupt it irich go,  
Uor vend gods vorbod man I zedge, to let it go vorth so:  
But well ich zee your brain is dick, your wits be curstly vert,  
Prey God ye be not zyde your zyelf, ere be to morrow next:  
Deruore go couch and sleep a now, and dan come to your part,  
An dyte a wiser ding dan dat, or all is not wort a vart.  
Now ych ha' mine arnede a do,  
Chud ha' ye your head to heed a  
And be good master Chuchard to,  
And so God be your spread a.   

camels Conclusion,  
¶ camels conclusion, and last farewell then,  
To Churchyard and those, that defend his when.  
A Man that hath more things than two, to put him unto pains,  
Hath even so many cares the more to work him weary brains.  
So I, that late have laboured hard, and pulcked at my plough,  
Am come to town, where now I find more matters than ynewe.  
more than I looked for by much, more matters to then needs,  
more makings & more medlynges far, than I have herbs or weeds.  
And all against me one alone, a sorry simple man,  
That toils and travails for my food, to earn it as I can.  
And gladly would in quiet be, to swink and live in rest,  
But dreamers will not suffer me, they nettle so my nest.  
Asurrejoinder, dreamer brings, the second a decree,  
A mariner brings in his boat, and he the third will be  
And so they join and iompe in lease, god grant them well to run.  
For I shall show them if I can, course oer I have done.  
The dreamer first full well I know, I shook him by the sleeve,  
Whereat the other ii I trow, are angry and do grieve.  
But that no force be as be may, here goeth thee beast a broad  
Dreamer a wake, mariner row, decree man look a broad.  
The beast will turn I lay a grotte, and give you all a trip,  
why now sirs now, now foot it well, this beast begins to skip.  
And first to master dreamer turns, and his surrejoindre to,  
wherein all things be well he saith, that he doth dream and do.  
He dreams he says and truly means, to put things in good stay  
Short sir Dreamer, a bandy ho, that baall must needs away.  
If that your dream have such intent, that hath in an effect,  
And that effeecte your western will▪ would not have men suspect:  
But take it as a Dream says he, and fantasy of the head.  
A finer freke b● Rood than you, I have his works well read.  
Although he chop in churl's terms, and carps in uncouth speech,  
Yet know I with a finger wet, where wise men might him seche,  
That if he whip his whyrry so, he may chance lick a clown,  
To whip it under water quite, and craire and cariag drown.  
But since he is become my judge and judgeth me amiss,  
In nothing me quite out of rule, as his wide wisdom is▪  
He shall well know, and so shall you, and the decreet too,  
that for my rule, when I was young, this was I taught to do.  
My father put me first to school, where, I a master had:  
Of whom I had precepts and stripes as fitted for a lad.  
He taught me there to fear my god, and love him with my mihht.  
To serve the king, and pray for him, and all his counsel right.  
Then next to honour those my friends, that kept me so at school.  
And this while I ascholat was, was every day my rule.  
And sins that time, my vicar hath full like a christian man,  
Taught me to tread in gods high way, and keep it as I can.  
To be obedient to the king and to the law also.  
And do my duty to the powers, and let their matters go.  
Que nostra sunt curare lo, he titled at my door,  
And bade me print it on my posts, anspread it on my flore.  
And leele love & labour eke, he had me learn to know,  
And keep my plough for profit sake, and thank god to I trow.  
And told me how there hangs a bell, within our parish church,  
which he doth twang each morning rathe, before we go to wurche,  
That toll to me, & others more, our neighbours there about,  
This term which I shall tell you now, as I can bring it out.  
que supra nos nihil ad nos, this beltinges us to ●enne:  
And this he said thee bell warned me, as it did other men  
And when I saw this Dicars when, I was so bold to tell.  
That Dicar in his draffishe dream, had not herd this bell well.  
And then for thy, forsooth and god my horn & scrape I took:  
And scartched in a few fret lines, for dreamers onto look:  
And so sir thus I meant no more, but minded him to know  
His duty (as I meant mine own) and father not to go,  
Till in his toys he tickled me, as lofty lad on loud  
And shope me shares to sharp me with, to carp out of a cloud.  
And if you roll thus out of tune for raining him this way,  
To keep himself in order such as he should do I say:  
And take the judgement to your hand, and term me out of rule,  
Then trow me well, you me wid from Camel to a mule  
Which Camel can not trouch withal, nor carry with him home.  
But shape and shake it to yourselves, like lumps of your own lome,  
But wellaway, I wander wide, for churchyard meant it well,  
And so he says, and so say you, and so your writings tell,  
So sometimes houses fired are, by meaning well in lights,  
And then the meaning is but marred, and they mad meaning wights.  
But since you will need have me seek the meaning of this when,  
Mean it to those whom it doth touch, and 'scuse it as you can  
And then let wise men dame and judge atween Dicar and me,  
which of us two is out of rule, I mean or I or he.  
And first let me▪ now are you all, what signifies this when?  
That earies with him at his tail, so great a jarring than.  
Hold is it in hand a present tymme, or future tymme to come▪  
Or is it admirantis word, as school men call it some.  
It must needs mean a matter mad, as far as I can see,  
But on go to, your wits are fine, mean you it out for me.  
Dreamer doth dream, and whence us out, a wondre of these whence,  
where of some whence are wonders well, and meet for whence men's  
But some from gammuth gront and groan above ela a note:  
And those wild whence at whend to large, I dare you gauge my cote,  
what when is this, that he whence out, when justice joins to truth?  
whose seat is that? how joins justice? dreamer say on in sooth▪  
And nod your noddles now in one, and make a trinity.  
Full work manly to work this when, if that it will so be.  
And first way well what justice is, to whom it doth pertain.  
Who sways the sword, who doth decree, look to the matter plain.  
From whence he comes, what branch he bears, and who and which him use,  
And answer justice to the wrong, where with you him accuse  
And mean your meaning as you mean, and dream not in your sleep,  
And show what jolly order now, in this your when you keep.  
But short to make of all your whence, to take thee principal,  
This is among the rest the worst, and stands thee last of all.  
when Rex doth reign and rule the roast, lo thus you ra●nge at last  
A marvelous when that such a when, should out in print be paste.  
Doth not Rex range sir dreamer now? what whenning term is this?  
If Rex reign not? who reigneth then? a sauci when this is.  
And whend at length and large in deed, beyond a subiecres wit,  
That god defend that I should dream, or that, or like of it.  
And yet I trow I have a bill for cattle that I sold:  
That says how Rex hath raigeed vi. year almost I dare be bold.  
And either is your when full false, or my bill is not true  
And which is truest of them both, let me now ask of you  
As for myself I make no doubts, but that your when is wrong,  
And that Rex reigns as he hath done, & shall I trust reign long.  
which as in school I was first taught, to pray that he may do.  
So every subsecte let him seek to have that prayer to,  
Thus could I touch some other whence, wherein you when at large.  
A great deal past your compass to, and as much passed your charge.  
But those I leave by light of this, for to be scanned and seen,  
To those that better judgements have, than you or I, I ween.  
And now will take your then in hand where with you. knit your when.  
In publishing it thus to me and to all other men.  
Than baleful barns be blithe you say, that here in England won:  
Our strife shall stint you undertake, our dreadful days are done.  
An assurance her you make that baleful barns we be,  
And that in strife we are all so, & dreadful days do se.  
But God defend it should be true, which your full frantic head:  
Hath publysht to so open eyes for to be seen and red.  
For once for me I make no doughtes, nor no good subect else:  
But we a moble sovereign have, as all our statutes tells.  
And as all orders else besides do will us for to know:  
who governs us and is our head, and rules us also  
And under him have other powers to see that law be done:  
To 'gree and tune us in accord, if we be out of tune.  
Under whose rule & order eke, all we that subjects be:  
do live and joins as sitteth us, in one for to agree  
And in thee town where I do dwell, I know no strife or dread.  
But every man there lives in tune as subjects to their head.  
And meddels not but with their ploughs, and sometime with their bow.  
And prate with Peter and with Paul, their duties for to know.  
And learn so for to keep them still, in order as they can:  
Except such wranglers wrangle them, with such large when and than  
And so I trust they do else where, which for my part I pray,  
That long we may so join in one, what so your when doth say  
But yet such dreadfulle whans and thence, which doth the matter mar  
were bet quite, pulled out of sight, than showed as they are.  
And so show western will from me, and wat and Herman too  
And will them wind their talk well not as they wonted to do.  
For if they lean to learn such whence, it will be long I fear,  
Ere they will channel well their craire, that should them safely bear   

Thomas Camel.  
Western will to Camel and for himself alone, although he lewdly lust, to knit up three in one,  
WHen calmly blows the wind, and seas but lyt●e move▪  
And cloud appeareth none, to threaten from above  
Unwelcomme change of wether, with rage of storms loud,  
Ne mists their manteles spread, the son a way to shroud,  
The Master idle ●yttes, & ship-boys steer thee stern,  
The course so careless is, he lust it not govern  
But when the storm begins to rattle in the skies  
And wallowing waves a fit, li●e mountains high to rise▪ And sources rolling round, full thick in others tail,  
Bethind and eke before, the Crayer gins assail,  
Then boys come fro the helm, and masters setto hand  
That better practice have, the bellows to with stand.  
So now with me it fars sith ye begin to blow,  
And thonndre in thee air, and sundry lightnings throw,  
And roar against the rocks whereon your water beats  
Myself to helm am comen to guide her in these heats  
Sufficed me afore, when nought appeared but calm  
To laugh and look upon the queitise of your qualm  
As doth the idle man, upon the players game  
where part himself, hath none and yet upon thee same  
His fancy common will, and forth to other tell  
what thing there seemed him good, or other wise then well  
But ye no lookers on, in no wise can abide.  
To say their fancies free, what toys in you they spied  
But each must have his part, when ye begin to rage.  
Ye love a number well, ●o furnyshe out the stage  
And sith ye will therefore, that needs I shall come in,  
Thus for myself alone, to answer I begin:  
A man that bends himself, to sow thee sedes of pain  
No marvel though he reap, such travail for his gain.  
A wicked plough it is, that furrows up a field  
To mar a pleasant patth and no good fruit to yield.  
who laboureth so to find with digging in the mould  
Declareth well a will, to find if ought he could:  
And busieth himself, with matters more than needs  
And roteth up good herbs to plant in stinking weeds.  
And yet would counpted be, a silly simple man  
That nothing means but right, to further as he can  
And that ye might him rue and pity some what more  
He makes as though he war, but one against askor  
And yet if all be weighed, in balance just upright,  
The challenge rests in them, that first began the fight  
But that in died I hear, ye have the Beau Lugent.  
And eke that other one, that such reward hath sent  
To him that went about, to still you with decree  
As Phe●us gave to Pan, or judgement like says he  
Lo here I bring my boat to row ye home to Lynne  
But ye such conscience have for punishment of sin  
That house and home may sink, and oxen starve at plow.  
But ye mai some what get to carry home wit you  
would ye be glad in died, to swink and live in rest?  
Th●n have ye much a wry begun to make your nest  
And that I trust at ones, in sober words to show,  
Bestir ye now 〈◊〉 beast, the mariner gins to row,  
A person of such wit, as ye would seem to be  
Of such forecast and zeal and of such gravity  
Before he taketh in hand, against a thing to write  
And set the same abroach, to all the people's sight  
Will weight what words therein, be not well said or meant  
And eke how far the same from duty do dissent  
which thing if ye so did, in reading of that bill  
Then found ye all things well or some thing sounding ill  
But if you found them well ye rail and lack a ground  
But if they seemed so ill, as ye do make them sound isle  
Then duty claimeth this, and specially in you  
That in your youth was taught, your duty well/ enough  
To have ra●e it fro the post and whem ye warned had  
The seller, that this dream was dangerous to be radd  
The same in sober wise, to open unto those  
That lawful power have our state, to bind and louse  
Of whom you thanks had then deserved for your died  
And taken away the cause where of more evil might bried  
But this thing did ye not, wherefore I may conclude  
If any harm there be, by you the woorte was brewed  
And ye concealed first, the fault ye did espy  
And judged it matter meet, your wrangling wits to try  
Ye ●●●●med ye smelled a spark, which though it ware right small  
Ye could by blowings bring, and tindre mirt withal  
To make a flame right great, in sight of many a ●n  
which straight way of itself would else have quenched alone▪  
But had the dreamer given the victory to you  
And hold his peace at first all had been good enough:  
The purging of your gall and hunger of a cote  
As some men do affirm, have chafed you so hot  
Yet if you so have found such sparkles in this dream  
Go blow them where they bred, they be without my stream  
Although you argue thus, intent will have effect  
which western will vould not, that any should suspect  
where to I answer thus, ye stumble in the plain  
And where ye think all sure your reasons are most vain  
Full little wit ye have, if ye cannot espy  
this argument to be much truer co●trarrie  
For ●ieldomer intent, attaineth to effect  
Then as ●e folishelly, thee other do object.  
I bid no man to take it as dream or fantasy  
But there I plainly showed, that even so took● it I  
And nothing else did mean in homely western will  
But so to chop in trencher terms, as folks do at the mill  
where each to other carps in rude & borrell spieche  
Of things where with themselves, do neither smart ne itchy,  
And if you would for this, we learned b●the to dive  
My boat and I together god let ye never thrive  
But god be ●hancked ever, that so for us provides  
More noble hearts & wise, our common wealth that guides  
As he them list assign, that reigneth in the top  
Our true redoubted king, of such excellent hope  
As never subjects had a pattern more express  
Of kingly virtues all, and learned nobleness  
whose persons are to high to, stoop into this rhythm  
and better nothing said, than spoken out of time  
To you my pen I turn that iudgen me amiss,  
And pray you well to note the parkinge by of this  
scythe ye so well can rack, the meaning of ones mind  
And have a grace to smell, that few men else would find  
Content yourself a while, and neither fume ne fret  
Though with your own to you I do like measure meat  
And sure I will not choose the worst among the roast  
But take the word wherein you seem to triomphe most:  
Because ye would be thought, to reverence thee powers  
(As well becomes us all, to all our governors)  
Such name as they right well contented are to hear  
And such as of itself a majesty doth bear  
Contented are ye not, to usen in your verse  
But by the name of gods ye do them oft rehearse  
Now if you will allege the scripture useth this  
According to your skill: Ego dixi dii estis  
Then hearken I beseech your, gods how they agree  
To him that we call God, and one believe to be,  
Lo in your rhythms afore, peruse them who that will,  
It well appearres, the Gods, whom you them liken till,  
ware neither gods ne men of civil living good  
But fancies of idolaters, & dreams of Robin hood,  
But grant that they ware gods of old gentility  
Yet must we take them such, as they them write to be  
Then ponder well my friend sith ye the latten know,  
what tales in them be told of jupiter arrow,  
And what a worthy clue, ye wind up of this thread  
when ye thee magistrates, conjoin to such a head:  
And here if I would bring, e●tent to have effect  
I could make some believe ye ware to be suspect:  
Ye mean them honour least where most ye do them glos●  
And use such terms, as might be made a shipman's hose:  
I could ye hear paint out, a rabble of those Gods  
Betwixt he which & Magistrates, I trow ye should put odds  
But that I do avoid, and fear also in died,  
That people in my rhythms such things unfit would riede  
I am not yet so bold, to talk at large of them  
whom always I have feared, if they but wink or hem  
But use in you hath bred, such skill by sundry change  
That happen what so will, it seldom seemeth strange  
where practice small is had, in any kind offeate  
To such it often haps, that tryf●le seem them great  
But stomach so are your, by travail in your trade  
with many a wandering course, from post to pillar made  
That nothing mounts so high, ne seemeth of such, wait  
That ye will not attempt if once ye wind the bait.  
Thus far I am content, to waste ye on the way  
And as for all the rest, that you to other say  
Let them the answer make to whom it apperteignes  
For I have some what else to occupy my brains  
And for your lesson, lo by Christ I like it well  
And such a like I wiene, doth Pierce the ploughman tell,  
But yet leave out this clause, to spread it on thee floor  
It was enough to have it written on the door  
For if it come so low, to lie upon the ground  
I fear that many ficte, will make it full unsound  
And tread it all to dirt, in sort I you assure  
That ye may hap forget to put the things in ure.   

W. Watreman.  
¶ A plain and final confutation: of camels corlyke oblatration  
YE upright men which loves thee light, whose hearts be void of guile:  
condemn no cause till truth be tried, give ear and list a while.  
And mark my tale from point to point, let no word skip unskande:  
And hear them with indifferent ears, and way them as they stand.  
first lay aside affection blind for truth my cause must plead,  
Let nether foe nor feigned friend, this matter judge nor read.  
And then I trust to clear myself, and Camel clean confound:  
That blows the trumpet of defam, which gives uncertain sound.  
The tune where of seems yet fulstraunge, so boisterous is the blast:  
But quiet calms sets forth still winds, when storms begun and passed.  
Which ●uyet time I wish to have, that I may be well hard.  
And then I hope this vypars bride, shall have his just reward.  
That forgeth faults and seeketh holes, to creep and ●eale therein:  
And flattereth for no other cause but fame or gain to win.  
What thinks this man he hath more wit, & learning in his head.  
Than hath five thousand other men, that (Dicarres dream hath read.  
Or thinks he that I am so rash, to run so far from square  
Or that I make such obcure things, that I dare not declare.  
Than is he blind and very fond, and scarce himself doth know.  
Let him look on his book again, his rule is nothing so.  
To you I speak friend Camel now, which wrelleth right to wrong:  
You say you have been kept at school, in sooth I think not long.  
Your master did but struck your head, he did for bear the rod:  
I doubt he did not teach you well, how you should fear your God.  
For if he had you would have stayed, to write against this dream:  
To spy a mere within my cie, since in yours is a beam  
If you might site and judge my cause, I should soon feel your worst:  
But God forbid there were long horns, on beasts that would be corst.  
I ca●l you beast because you said, here goeth the beast abroad:  
Thee beast will turn you gauge a groat, if he be pricked with goad.  
Now turn sir beast and come all oft, fling not for fear of whip:  
In deed it is a monstruse thing, to see a Camelle skip.  
You say you shaken me by the sleeve, than rubd I your gall pack:  
If I know how to do you good my help you should not ●acke.  
We Jump in lease, ye gab fire beast, I am but one alone:  
But I can prove (O beaw Camew) that you are more than on.  
My surrejoindrer doth declrare, this dream was for the best:  
And yet you cry, abandye ho at tenues thus ye jest.  
What can you lay unto my charge, of malice or of hate:  
Since I do wish that every wight, should walk in his estate.  
This veerse you hip, and yet it stands, next that when rex doth raing:  
Both these be good and godly to, hereshall I show you plain.  
But as I said, out of fair flowers, thee spider poison takes:  
And yet the Bee doth feed thereon, and there with honey makes  
I do compare this spider now, to you which so appears.  
For that you run a patheles way, to lead me in thee breerres.  
Where find you this that dreams can have, any effect at a●l.  
Be not they fancies of thee head and so wise men them call why do you write against a dream, which hath a small effect,  
why turn you it to meaning lewd, to bring it in suspect,  
You meant no more but me to learn, so you would you excuse:  
Sir if you mind to keep a friend, do not your friend so use.  
You brag you of your master much when you to skool did go:  
You said ye larned your duty well good sir it seems not so.  
To serve the king and pray for him, I learned as well as you:  
To love him leall for conscience sake this lesson well I knew.  
His council eke for to obey my duty learns me too:  
And with their matters not to mell, nor therein have to do.  
This lesson hitherto I kept, and shall here after keep:  
Till I to earth return again, where flesh and fell must sleep  
What is thee cause you answered not, to that which I wrote last:  
You do conclude much like a thief, which is condennde and cast.  
For at the bar he prateth long, & can no reason show:  
To clear himself and sa●e his life when truth doth him o'erthrow.  
So you all though with matter now, I do you still assault:  
Yet with great shame you are content, to yield unto your fault.  
I wrote more things than one or two, yet read them on's again:  
I do perceive a little thing, will soon orecomme your brain.  
You have sought council fourteen days, it seems that you did dream:  
Or else ye thought to run away, into some other realm.  
But now I hear a sudden sound, the beast begins to bray:  
It is much like a Camels voice, that dwells in lyn they say.  
Be as be may you say yourself, ye bid me foet it well,  
why will the beast now lead the dance, with beasts I will not mell.  
But where you say, I when out whence, above eala a note,  
You gront and groen from gammuth far, I dare you gauge my cott.  
Sins you will put me to my trump, with a false card often,  
Mark how justice shall join to truth, I will make large this when.  
Note Though justice doth belong to Rex, whose sword puts that in ure,  
Yet every justice under him is not so just and pure.  
Because there be knights of the post, which will themselves forswear,  
And feigned truth will forge a tale, sometimes in justice ear.  
And work such wills, justice to blind, and make him credit lies.  
Such crafty mists these men can cast, before true justice eyes.  
Though justice of himself is pure and clean devoid of crime,  
Yet false witness may alter him, and change his mind sometime.  
Thee fault there of is not in him, he would fain join to truth.  
But flattering faith, may him corrupt, alas the more is ruth.  
When truth is foreman of the quest, and right shall vardyt give,  
Than justice shall join still to truth, & so together live.  
Thus is this when made manifest, truly as I it meant  
And yet it was full plain before, to every true intent.  
Here have I weighed what justice is, to whom it doth pertain,  
who sways the sword, who doth decree, hear have I set out plain.  
Now stay a while, & mark this when, which you call principal,  
And is the beast among the rest▪ and, standeth last of all  
Note when rex doth reign (And) rule the roast, a conjunction copulative,  
Your master taught you not to know, could he such things descrive?  
Now Rex doth rain whom god preserve, in long life on us here,  
And send him rule the roast himself, as prince withouten per.  
That he may find those secret flighes, which now in corners lie:  
And such as do abuse his laws and live so wickedly.  
It seems they live as they delight, and lean not to his lore●  
Because he doth commend them laws and they pass not therefore.  
●owe doth the master of the school, his scholars rule and tame:  
when he doth give precepts and rules, and none doth keep the same.  
How doth the king his peopl rule, let this be better weighed  
when he doth give them laws and acts and none of them obeyed.  
For though that Rex do rain and rule, as I believe in deed  
Yet doth not he for mercy great, that wicked all out weed  
And lyk as God is merciful so doth our king in deed:  
Enswe and follow in his steps, (whom God defend and speed.)  
His justice is to punish sine with death & pain extreme:  
which is most godly exercised and so doth show and seem  
Yet if all those that do offend, should have such punishment  
what man is living now a days, that should escape unshente?  
But following the example of, the Lord and king of kings:  
Doth often suffer us unkind, in vile and grievous things.  
Because he would (as it doth seem, so merciful and dear:)  
Be rather love) than obeyed or only dread and fear.  
And thi● his mercy god●y mente, doth make us worse in deed:  
As scholars when they lack the rod, do live withouten dread.  
But when he shall begin again, to punish wickedness:  
which is his justice (or more plain,) to us but righteousness.  
Then folk for fear (but not for love,) shall better end their life  
As ho●ses whipped, ye then for fear shall stint and cease our strife.  
wherefore if every king this day which ought in deed to raingne:  
Do reign and rule the roast and weed, the wicked out full plain.  
Then have they wealth withouten strife, which God give us ryghtsone:  
That all our wickedness were paste, and dreadful days were done.  
If Dycar said, when Rex doth rain, & all men do obey  
How could you Camel, thus conclude? he reigneth not to day.  
Note Or if he said, when Christ is God, and you a faithful mam:  
would ye conclude? ergo, (to him,) he is not God now than  
wherefore if Rex do reign & rule, as I believe he doth:  
And I beseech almighty god, he may do long in sooth  
Yet must you take another point, contained in this when  
when Rex doth reign and rule the roast, and weeds out wicked men.  
You must not hearken half the tale an leave thee rest behind:  
for than in deed you do amiss, and fain would quareles find  
You Red in faith much like the nun omnia probate  
And turned not thee other side quod bonum est rene●e.  
Red you no more but Rex doth reign, and left the rest unspyed:  
Is there not to) and rule the roast, the sentences is so tied.  
And weed out wicked worldly men, thee spotted from the clean:  
whose vice infects the chosen lambs, lo thus did Dicar mean.  
He doubted not but Rex doth roigne, the truth itself doth show:  
But yet he thonghte it good to weed, out wicked men I trow.  
And thus I say did Dicar dream, thee sense doth plainly tell  
If upright eyes and rihteous minds, do look and skan him well.  
If you should be my judge I see, and dame my dreminge thus  
I should have but short, courtesy, and you my cause discus,  
But god hath sawed your horns so short, no great hurt do you can  
He made you nether lord nor judge, nor scarce an honest man,  
when Rex doth reign and rule the roast, and out thee wicked weed,  
Than you and many other like, would first of all preced  
But where you set a snare and net, for these that well intend.  
To show what is the very cause, of evil and the end.  
There you yourself (and if it were, applied well in fram  
As he hath meant) should certainly be catchid in the same  
what if I should cast forth the bone, you thought to choke me with:  
Perhaps you may repent to late, you went so nigh the pith  
Where is your lesson now be come, you learned so long ago,  
That spied such fault in dicar's dream, and yet conceilde it so.  
Note If it had reached to jupiter's seat as you affirm in deed  
You ought not it have kept so long▪ but strait it told with speed.  
Or if you thought you saw the mist, that no man else could serye,  
There should no cause have stopped you so▪ to tell it by & by  
If dicars when, as true it is be clear from blame & blot  
Yet your offence is no whit less by cause you thought it not.  
If ignorance had said a miss, the same be my defence,  
Yet wilful ignorant in you, doth plead your great offence.  
Behold of god the righteous scourdge, that now a mid the grin:  
You laid to trap the innocent yourself is fallen therein  
What say you now wise camels calf, if rex wede wicked men,  
You should of right be tied to short, to pervert dicars when  
But till such spiders be weed out, and all their cobwebs to,  
That seeks to trap the sell flies, as you begin to do.  
The barns I say that here do won, with in this brittaine land,  
Shall bide alas those dread full days, and dicar's dream may stand.  
O Sir you took my then in hand, where with mi when I knit  
where I perceive your franityke head, begins, an other fit.  
Note Can you deny the plagues of god, which he to us hath sent?  
And scourgeth us for our great sins, from which with not repent.  
Doth not thee plough man plough his ground, and laborith vereisor.  
The earth brings forth his fruit like wise, increasing more and more  
Doth not the heavens give us rain▪ the waters gives us foshe?  
Doth not the counsel seek our wealth, as well as we can wish?  
Do not they take great care & pain, all evils to redress  
Yes all these things do work as well, as man's tongue can express.  
Yet though our king do make good laws, the earth brings forth much seed:  
Are evermor deceived quite whereto they take great ease.  
Perceive & see the beam so great which is before thin eyes:  
And than correct thy brother's fault, without fraud or lies  
Quench first this your malicious mind, that burneth like the fire.  
And than your slander certainly will not be thought of Ire.  
Remember that you reconcile you to your brother again:  
Or else your offering will not be received, this is plain.  
Speak nothing judging any man, the wise man doth eror● with unadvised wilfulness, nor gruing ill report  
taunt non for virtue, while thou livest: for than thou art not wise:  
And wilt be truly taken for a fool, maintaining vice.  
When Camel follows any point of this▪ as it appears,  
And leaveth ●eaw ✚ & subtle & words: we shall have pleasantyeres. 
〈…〉   
Uewe this good reader following & that which is before  
To th'end to frame thy life thereto, & mend it ever more.  
A Christ bideth us ensue his steps, & suffer wrong & grief  
As he hath suffered grievous pain, which is our health & life  
You most saith Christ observe and keep, for very inward zeal,  
His Godly & divine precepts & than you shall have weal.  
●achary was, for godliness, of will and not constrained)  
Imputed just before the Lord I know this is not feigned.  
● AND fynali we ought to leave all slander lies & strife  
For nothing is more wickeder in man's or woman's life  
● CONsidering that we shall give accounts, before the lord  
Of all our deeds, our wicked thoughts, & every idle word  
Esteem not this as vanity, & needless matters e●e  
For than in y● (good brother mie) is wisdom far to seek  
Amend thy life by thes precepts, and bear me no disdain.  
And than pass I nothing at all though it 〈◊〉 thankless na●●●.  
FINIS.