A ballad Entitled, the Dekaye of the Duke.  

You see by good Trial, what comes of the Duke,  
Turn yet to the Dial, of God's holy Book,   

Our people of England that hold with the Pope,  
May see the preferments that follow the same,  
The highest and lowest, he brings to the Rope,  
And strangers and Tyrants do laugh at the game.  
You see by good trial, what comes of the Duke  
Turn yet to the Dial of God's holy Book.   

¶ Thus are we still spoiled of honour and fame,  
By Prelates that practise to poison us all,  
The Pope is the Pestilence, and Room hath the name,  
Where with we come witless to westminster hall.  
You see by good trial, what comes of the Duke  
Turn yet to the Dial of God's holy Book.   

¶ The Duke had great favour with Justice attained,  
But of an ill matter what could be decreed,  
For Lords of great Honour where he was arraigned,  
Had proof to apparent, of many fowl deed.  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ Not trifles, but Treasons, so many devised,  
As all the world wondered such venom to hear,  
In letters, and answers, and writings comprised,  
No way to be construed to set the Duke clear.  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ Put of your oppinnion, of all his proceeding,  
hypocrisy cloaked, comes never to good,  
I think all the Lawyers were weary of reading,  
And all the hole people in storms as they stood,  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ To tell the hole treatise, the tale were to long,  
Against the good Lady, our Queen that now reigns  
How many devices to do her grace wrong,  
By Pope holy practice, were pact in his brains.  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ And then to his country, what sequel ensued,  
Alas to apparent, the peril drew nigh,  
In blood to the elbows we had been imbrued,  
Which God hath forbidden, that governs the sky.  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ The Duke or his doings what more shall I tell ye,  
But God of his goodness yet give him some grace,  
For in mine oppinnion you papists I smell ye,  
You are yet to many that hold with the case,  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ Whose Rumours yet roaring can hardly be still,  
A Cankered condition in kaytiffes unkind,  
The devil now doubteth he is dashed of his will,  
Yet Babylon babies will brag to be blind.  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ When wantonness thought worthy, once stand on the top  
Their steps are so fickle they cannot stand still,  
One leg in good fashion is better to hopp,  
Then two legs at Random to Run where ye william.  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ As pity lamenteth the loss of his grace,  
That once being Noble might Nobly have done  
So trial tormentith that one in his place,  
To Rebels and Riotes so rashly would run.  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ But such as be seekers, to set all at square,  
With strangers, and neighbours, of horrible name,  
Do show by their Pitchers what Potters they are,  
What Jolie companion of Catholic fame.  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ well-willers are willing to here and to see,  
The good and the Godly regarders of Rule,  
Ilwillers unwilling good quiet should be,  
As Scholars beware trewantes that love not the school.  
You see by good trial   

¶ But neat with our blissinge, the bracks of our season,  
There have been great warnings as this may be one,  
A Duke of high honour, to fall to high Treasen,  
Both he, and his honour, how soon they be gone.  
You see by good trial etc.   

¶ Wherefore it behoveth, as God doth advance us,  
To honour, to favour, to worship, or wealth,  
We are to consider, it may so bechance us,  
To loose all together, good hap, and good health.  
You see by good trial.   

¶ Wherefore to our duties, we are bound to apply,  
Our Queen and our country to honour and praise,  
Content to live lo, but if ye ware high,  
To live within law, and lengthen our days.  
You see by good trial. etc.   

¶ God prospero the Queen, her Nobles and friends,  
Her subjects assured, of every degree,  
And God of his goodness shown the ends,  
Of all her offenders, if any more be.   
¶ Finis.  
quoth W. Elderton.   

¶ Imprinted at London in Fleetstreet beneath the Conduit, at the sign sign of saint john Evangelist by Thomas Colwell.