Sainct Peter, with your kaies;
Shewe my lorde the right waies:
He dwelt ones at Poules,
And had cure of our soules:
I wisse, he was not a baste,
But holie, meke, and chaste;
It is a greate pitie
That he is gone from our citie;
A man of greate honor;
O holy sainct Boner!
You blessed friers
That neuer wer liers,
And you holy nunnes
That neuer had sonnes,
Set this child of grace
In some angelles place.”
Sig. B vii.
[153] O quam, &c.] A line which ought to have rhymed with this one is wanting.
[154] Homicidis] Old ed. “Homicidus.”
From
A Skeltonicall Salutation,
Or condigne gratulation,
And iust vexation
Of the Spanish Nation,
That in a bravado,
Spent many a Crusado,
In setting forth an Armado
England to invado.
Imprinted at London for Toby Cooke. 1589, 4to.
“O king of Spaine,
Is it not a paine
To thy heart and braine
And euery vaine,
To see thy traine
For to sustaine,
Withouten gaine,
The worlds disdaine,
Which doth dispise
As toies and lies,
With shoutes and cries,
Thy enterprise,
As fitter for pies
And butter-flies,
Then men so wise?
O waspish king,
Wheres now thy sting,
Thy dart or sling,
Or strong bow-string,
That should vs wring,
And vnderbring,
Who euery way
Thee vexe and pay,
And beare the sway
By night and day,
To thy dismay,
In battle aray,
And every fray?
O pufte with pride,
What foolish guide
Made thee provide
To over-ride
This land so wide
From side to side,
And then, vntride,
Away to slide,
And not to abide,
But all in a ring
Away to fling?
O conquering,
O vanquishing,
With fast flying,
And no replying,
For feare of frying!
…
But who but Philippus,
That seeketh to nip vs,
To rob vs, and strip vs,
And then for to whip vs,
Would ever haue ment,
Or had intent,
Or hither sent
Such ships of charge,
So strong and so large,
Nay, the worst barge,
Trusting to treason,
And not to reason,
Which at that season
To him was geson,
As doth appeare
Both plaine and cleare
To far and neere,
To his confusion,
By this conclusion,
Which thus is framed,
And must be named
Argumentum a minore,
Cum horrore et timore?
If one Drake o,
One poore snake o,
Make vs shake o,
Tremble and quake o,
Were it not, trow yee,
A madnes for me
To
