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!"[427]
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