awaye,
That we did dayly saye,
And vtterly decaye
For euer and for aye?
So were we brought in doubte
That all that are deuout
Were like to go withoute
The messe that hath no peere,
Which longe hath taried here,
Yea, many an hundreth yere,
And to be destitute
Of that whiche constitute
Was of the highe depute
Of Christe and his apostles;
Althoughe none of the Gospels
No mention maketh or tells,
We must beleue (what ells?)
Of things done by councells,
Wherein the high professours,
Apostlique successours,
Take holde to be possessours;
And some were made confessours;
Some of them were no startars,
But were made holi marters:
Yet plowmen, smythes, & cartars,
With such as be their hartars,
Will enterprise to taxe
Thes auncyent mens actes
And holy fathers factes.
Thoughe messe were made bi men,
As popes nyne or ten,
Or many more, what then?
Or not of Scripture grounded,
Is yt therfore confounded
To be a supersticion?
Nay, nay, they mysse the quission:
Make better inquyssicion;
Ye haue an euyll condicion
To make suche exposicion;
Ye thinke nothing but Scripture
Is only clene and pure;
Yes, yes, I you ensure,
The messe shalbe hir better,
As light as ye do set hir.
The Scripture hath nothing
Wherby profyte to bryng,
But a lytyll preaching,
With tattling and teaching;
And nothing can ye espie
Nor se with outwarde eye,
But must your ears applie
To learnyng inwardlye;
And who so it will folowe,
In goods though he may walow,
If Scripture once him swalowe,
She wyll vndo him holowe;
Wherfore no good mes singers
Will come within hir fyngers,
But are hir vnder styngers,
For she wolde fayne vndo
All such as lyueth so.
To the messe she is an enymye,
And wolde distroye hir vtterlye,
Wer not for sum that frendfully
In time of nede will stand hir by.
Yet is the messe and she as lyke
As a Christian to an heretike:
The messe hath holy vestures,
And many gay gestures,
And decked with clothe of golde,
And vessells many folde,
Right galaunt to beholde,
More then may well be tolde,
With basen, ewer, and towell,
And many a prety jwelle,
With goodly candellstyckes,
And many proper tryckys,
With cruetts gilt and chalys,
Wherat some men haue malice,
With sensers, and with pax,
And many other knackys,
With patent, and with corporas,
The fynest thing that euer was.
Alasse, is it not pitie
That men be no more wittye
But on the messe to iest,
Of all suche thinge the best?
For if she were supprest,
A pyn for all the rest.
…
A, good mestres Missa,
Shal ye go from vs thissa?
Wel, yet I muste ye kissa:
Alacke, for payne I pyssa,
To se the mone here issa,
Because ye muste departe!
It greueth many an herte
That ye should from them start:
But what then? tushe, a farte!
Sins other shifte is none,
But
