As a literary curiosity, I shall preserve a very rare poetical tract, which describes with considerable force the Revolutionists of the reign of Elizabeth. They are indeed those of wild democracy; and the subject of this satire will, I fear, be never out of time. It is an admirable political satire against a mob-government. In our poetical history, this specimen too is curious, for it will show that the stanza in alternate rhymes, usually denominated elegiac, is adapted to very opposite themes. The solemnity of the versification is impressive, and the satire equally dignified and keen.
The taste of the mere modern reader had been more gratified by omitting some unequal passages; but, after deliberation, I found that so short a composition would be injured by dismembering extracts. I have distinguished by italics the lines to which I desire the reader's attention, and have added a few notes to clear up some passages which might appear obscure.
RYTHMES AGAINST MARTIN MARRE-PRELATE.[1]
Ordo Sacerdotum fatuo turbatur ab omni,
Labitur et passim Religionis honos. Since Reason,
Martin, cannot stay thy pen,
We 'il see what rime will do; have at thee then!
A Dizard late skipt out upon our stage,
But in a sacke, that no man might him see;
And though we know not yet the paltrie page,
Himselfe hath
Martin made his name to bee.
A proper name, and for his feates most fit;
The only thing wherein he hath shew'd wit.
Who knoweth not, that Apes, men
Martins call,[2]
Which beast, this baggage seemes as 't were himselfe:
So as both nature, nurture, name, and all,
Of that's expressed in this apish elfe.
Which Ile make good to Martin Marre-als face,
In three plaine poynts, and will not bate an ace.
For, first,
the Ape delights with moppes and mowes,
And mocketh Prince and Peasants all alike;
This jesting Jacke, that no good manners knowes,
With his Asse-heeles presumes all states to strike.
Whose scoffes so stinking in each nose doth smell,
As all mouthes saie of Dolts he beares the bell.
Sometimes his chappes do walke in poynts too high,
Wherein the Ape himself a Woodcock tries.
Sometimes with floutes he drawes his mouth awrie,
And sweares by his ten bones, and falselie lies.
Wherefore be he what he will I do not passe;
He is the paltriest Ape that euer was.
Such fleering, leering, jeering fooles bopeepe,
Such hahas! teehees! weehees! wild colts play;
Such Sohoes! whoopes and hallowes; hold and keepe;
Such rangings, ragings, reuelings, roysters ray;
With so foule mouth, and knaue at euery catch,
'Tis some knaue's nest did surely
Martin hatch.
Now out he runnes with Cuckowe king of May,
Then in he leapes with a wild Morrice daunce;
Then strikes he up
Dame Lawson's[3] lustie lay;
Then comes Sir
Jeffrie's ale-tub, tapp'd by chaunce,
Which makes me gesse, and I can shrewdly smell,
He loues both t' one and t'other passing well.
Then straight, as though he were distracted quite,
He chafeth like a cut-purse layde in warde;
And rudely railes with all his maine and might,
Against both knights and lords without regard:
So as
Bridewell must tame his dronken fits,
And
Bedlem help to bring him to his wits.
But,
Martin, why, in matters of such weight,
Dost thou thus
play the dawe, and dauncing foole?
O sir (quoth he)
this is a pleasant baite
For men of sorts, to traine them to my schoole.
Ye noble states, how can you like hereof,
A shamelesse Ape at your sage head should scoffe? Good Noddie, now leaue scribbling in such matters;
They are no tooles for fooles to tend unto;
Wise men regard not what mad monkies patters!
'Twere trim a beast should teach men what to do.
Now
Tarleton's dead, the consort lackes a Vice.
For knaue and foole thou maist bear prick and price.
The sacred sect, and perfect pure precise,
Whose cause must be by
Scoggin's jests mainteinde,
Ye shewe, although that Purple, Apes disguise,
Yet Apes are still, and so must be, disdainde.
For though your Lyons lookes weake eyes escapes,
Your babling bookes bewraies you all for Apes. The next point is,
Apes use to tosse and teare
What once their fidling fingers fasten on;
And clime aloft, and cast downe euery where,
And neuer staie till all that stands be gon! Now whether this in
Martin be not true,
You wiser heads marke here what doth ensue.
What is it not that
Martin doth not rent?
Cappes, tippets, gownes, black chiuers, rotchets white;
Communion bookes, and homelies: yea, so bent
To teare, as women's wimples feele his spite.
Thus tearing all, as all apes use to doo,
He teares withall the Church of Christ in two.
Marke now what thinges he meanes to tumble downe,
For to this poynt to look is worth the while,
In one that makes no choice 'twixt cap and crowne,
Cathedral churches he would fain untile,
And snatch up bishops' lands, and catch away
All gaine of learning for his prouling pray.
And thinke you not he will pull downe at length
As well the top from tower as cocke from steeple;
And when his head hath gotten some more strength,
To play with Prince as now he doth with People:
Yes, he that now saith, Why should Bishops bee?
Will next crie out,
Why Kings? The Saincts are free! The Germaine boores with Clergiemen began,
But neuer left till Prince and Peeres were dead.
Jacke Leyden was a holy zealous man,
But ceast not till the Crowne was on his head. And
Martin's mate,
Jacke Strawe, would alwaies ring,
The Clergie's faults, but sought to kill the King.
"Oh that," quoth
Martin, "
chwere a Nobleman!"[4]
Avaunt, vile villain! 'tis not for such swads.
And of the Counsell, too: marke Princes then:
These roomes are raught at by these lustie lads.
For Apes must climbe, and neuer stay their wit,
Untill on top of highest hilles they sit. What meane they els, in euery towne to craue
Their Priest and King like Christ himself to be:
And for one Pope ten thousand Popes to have,
And to controll the highest he or she? Aske Scotland that, whose King so long they crost,
As he was like his kingdome to haue lost.
Beware ye States and Nobles of this lande,
The Clergie is but one of these men's buttes.
The Ape at last on master's necke will stande:
Then gegge betimes these gaping greedie gutts. Least that too soone, and then too late ye feele,
He strikes at head that first began with heele. The third tricke is,
what Apes by flattering waies
Cannot come by with biting, they will snatch;
Our
Martin makes no bones, but plainely saies,
Their fists shall walke, they will both bite and scratch.
He'll make their hearts to ake, and will not faile,
Where pen cannot, their penknife shall prevail.[5]
But this is false, he saith he did but mock:
A foole he was, that so his words did scanne.
He only meant with pen their pates to knocke;
A knaue he is, that so turns cat in pan.
But,
Martin, sweare and stare as deepe as hell,
Thy sprite, thy spite and mischeuous minde doth tell.
The thing that neither Pope with booke nor bull,
Nor Spanish King with ships could doe without,
Our MARTINS heere at home will worke at full:
If Prince curbe not betimes that rabble rout. That is, destroy both Church and State and all;
For if t' one faile, the other needes must fall.
Thou England, then, whom God doth make so glad
Through Gospel's grace and Prince's prudent reigne,
Take heede lest thou at last be made as sad,
Through
Martin's makebates marring, to thy paine.
For he marrs all and maketh nought, nor will,
Saue lies and strife, and works for
England's ill.
And ye graue men that answere MARTIN'S mowes,
He mocks the more, and you in vain loose times.
Leaue Apes to Doggs to baite, their skins to Crowes,
And let old
Lanam[6] lashe him with his rimes.
The beast is proud when men read his enditings;
Let his workes goe the waie of all wast writings.
Now,
Martin, you that say you will spawne out
Your brawling brattes, in euery towne to dwell,
We will provide in each place for your route,
A bell and whippe that Apes do loue so well. And if yo skippe, and will not wey the checke,
We 'il haue a springe, and catche you by the necke.
And so adieu, mad
Martin-mar-the-land
Leaue off thy worke, and "more work"[7] hearest thou me
Thy work's nought worth, take better worke in hand.
Thou marr'st thy worke, and thy work will marre thee. Worke not anewe, least it doth work thy wracke,
And then make worke for him that worke doth lacke.
And this I warn thee, Martin Monckies-face,
Take heed of me; my rime doth charm thee bad.
I am a rimer of the Irish race,
And haue alreadie rimde thee staring mad.
But if thou cease not thy bald jests to spread,
I'le never leave till I have rimde thee dead.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] In Herbert's "Typographical Antiquities," p. 1689, this tract is intituled, "A Whip for an Ape, or Martin Displaied." I have also seen the poem with this title. Readers were then often invited to an old book by a change of title: in some cases, I think the same work has been published with several titles.
[2]
Martin was a name for a
bird, and a cant term for an
Ass; and, as it appears here, an
Ape. Our
Martins, considered as birds, were often reminded that their proper food was "hempen seed," which at length choked them. That it meant an
Ass, appears from "Pappe with a Hatchet." "Be thou Martin the bird or Martin the beast, a bird with the longest bill, or a
beast with the longest ears, there's a net spread for your neck."--Sign. B. 5. There is an old French proverb, quoted by Cotgrave,
voce Martin:--"
Plus d'un ASNE à la foire, a nom +Martin+."
[3] Martin was a
protégé of this
Dame Lawson. There appear to have been few political conspiracies without a woman, whenever religion forms a part. This dame is thus noticed in the mock epitaphs on Martin's funeral--
"Away with silk, for I will mourn in sacke;
Martin is dead, our new sect goes to wrack.
Come, gossips mine, put finger in the eie,
He made us laugh, but now must make us crie."
DAME LAWSON.
"Sir Jeffrie's Ale-tub" alludes to two knights who were ruinously fined, and hardly escaped with life, for their patronage of Martin.
[4]
Chwere,
i.e. "that I were," alluding to their frequently adopting the corrupt phraseology of the populace, to catch the ears of the mob.
[5] It is a singular coincidence that Arnauld, in his caustic retort on the Jesuits, said--"I do not fear your
pen, but your
penknife." The play on the word, tells even better in our language than in the original--
plume and
canife.
[6] I know of only one
Laneham, who wrote "A Narrative of the Queen's Visit at Kenilworth Castle," 1575. He was probably a redoubtable satirist. I do not find his name in Ritson's "Bibliographia Poetica."
[7] Alluding to the title of one of their most virulent libels against Bishop Cooper ["Hay any worke for Cooper," which was a pun on the Bishop's name, conveyed in the street cry of an itinerant trader, and was followed by another entitled] "More work for a Cooper." Cooper, in his "Admonition to the People of England," had justly observed that this
Mar-Prelate ought to have many other names. See note, p. 510.
I will close this note with an extract from "Pappe with a Hatchet," which illustrates the ill effects of all sudden reforms, by an apposite and original image.
"There was an aged man that lived in a well-ordered Commonwealth by the space of threescore years, and finding, at the length, that by the heate of some men's braines, and the warmness of other men's blood, that newe alterations were in hammering, and that it grewe to such an height, that all the desperate and discontented persons were readie to runne their heads against their head; comming into the midst of these mutiners, cried, as loude as his yeeres would allow:--'Springalls, and vnripened youthes, whose wisedomes are yet in the blade, when this snowe shall be melted (laying his hand on his siluer haires) then shall you find store of dust,
and rather wish for the continuance of a long frost, than the incomming of an vntimely thaw.'"--
Sig. D. 3. verso. [The end]
Isaac Disraeli's essay: Supplement To Martin Mar-Prelate