¶ A new ballad entitled as followeth.  

¶ To such as writ in Metres, I writ  
Of small matters an exhortation,  
By reading of which, men may delight  
In such as be worthy commendation.  
My verse also it hath relation  
To such as print, that they do it well,  
The better they shall their Metres cell.   
✿ Andrea when we have done all that ever we can,  
Let us never seek praise at the mouth of man.  

HORACE, that noble Poet did writ  
In his learned book, the art of Poetry  
Notable things, of which to recite  
One is now to be noted specially  
In these our days, and wots ye why?  
For some there be, take matters in hand  
Chief in Metre, to show their fancy  
As did in his days, a certain band.   

¶ Read in his books, and then understand,  
They vexed his ears, they troubled his eyes  
With Metres in number, compared to the sand:  
And lacked not such, as would to the skies  
So praise their works (such was their guise)  
And also extol their Metres so  
With words frevolous, and manifest lies,  
That like unto them, there was no more.   

¶ But what saith HORACE, afore we go  
Any further herein? because they did use  
To procure friends, jest that their foe  
Should paint them out, and so accuse  
Their doings in verse, and their abuse  
Which men to praise them, were not so priest  
As Horace again would still refuse  
To admit that number in to his breast.   

¶ Such could not devil in his study or chest  
LUCILIUS, with other in Horace days  
Was one which he could not digest  
His verse in words, or sense always  
For the most part deserved small praise.  
And why? because he had more respect  
To covet the garland, of Laurel or Bays  
For number rather, then verse select.   

¶ For when by writing men do detect  
Their wisdom, or else their folly in deed  
If it be foolish, they do correct  
Or aught that can, and that with speed  
As HORACE did: the unskilful breed  
Of Poets that wrote in his time (I say)  
The works of such, as ye may read,  
Continued not long, but fall away.   

❧ Such spices & wares as come from the sea  
They be good to use from town to town,  
To the peddler they be a right good stay  
To put in his stuff, black white or brown,  
Good for the Master, and good for the Clown  
To make (as ye know) the matter clean,  
Good to took up, and good to cast down  
When ye have done, ye know what I mean.   

¶ Your ballads of love not worth a bean  
A number there be, although not all,  
Some be pithy, some weak, some lean  
Some do run as round as a ball:  
Some verses have such a pleasant fall  
That pleasure it is for any man  
Whether his knowledge be great or small  
So that of a verse some skill he can.   

¶ But some if ye take in hand to skan  
They lack their grace, they lack good sense,  
The Printer should therefore with his fan  
purge chaff from corn, to avoid offence.  
And not for lucre, under pretence  
Of news, to print what cometh to hand,  
But that which is meet to bring in pence  
Let him print, the matter well stand:   

¶ Our english men, some out of the land  
A sort of Rebels sturdy and stout,  
with our pope holy men, that overthwart band  
At Louvain, with open slander breath out.  
What envy can do, to bring in doubt  
The godly works well written of late  
Of learned men, and now go about  
To stir up against us war and debate.   

¶ Wherefore let us not open a gate,  
Either the Printer, or they which writ  
To such as they be, knowing their state,  
Their slanderoous pen doth cruelly bite.  
Let them not say that those which indite  
Lack knowledge in that, the pen doth express,  
Let them not say that a ravening Kite  
Is as good as a Lark, at a Printers mess.   

¶ But now jest ye think me to use excess  
I will to an end myself prepare,  
wishing all them that will address  
Their pen to Metres, let them not spare  
To follow Chawcer, a man very rare,  
Lidgate, Wager, Barclay and Bale:  
With many other that excellent are,  
In these our days, extant to sale.   

¶ Let writers not covet the bottom or dale  
If they may come to the hill or brink,  
And when they have written their learned tale  
The Printer must use good paper and ink.  
Or else the reader may sometime shrink  
When fault by ink or paper is seen,  
And thus every day before we drink  
Let us pray God to save our Queen. Amen.   
¶ FINIS.  by R. B.  

¶ Imprinted at S. Katherins beside the Tower of London, by Alexander Lacie.