A discription of Nortons falcehod of Yorke shyre, and of his fatall farewel The fatal fine of traitours loe: by iustice due, deseruyng soe.

¶ A discription of Nortons falcehod of Yorke shyre , and of his fatall farewel .

The fatal fine of Traitours loe : By Iustice due , deseruyng soe . OF late ( alas ) the great vntruth Of Traitours , how it sped Who list to know , shal here 〈…〉 e How late allegeance fled . ¶ If Riuers rage against the Sea . And swell with soddeine rayne : How glad are they to fall agayne , And trace their wonted traine ? If fire by force wolde forge the fall Of any sumptuouse place , If water floods byd him leaue of , His flames he wyll disgrace . If God command the wyndes to cease , His blastes are layd full low : If God command the seas to calme , They wyll not rage or flow . All thinges at Gods commandement be , If he their state regarde : And no man liues whose destinie By him is vnpreparde . But when a man forsakes the ship , And rowles in wallowing waues : And of his voluntarie wyll , His owne good hap depraues : How shal he hope to scape the gulfe ? How shal he thinke to deale ? How shal his fansie bring him sound To Safties shore with sayle ? How shall his fraight in fine succede ? Alas what shall he gayne ? What feare by storms do make him quake How ofte subiecte to payne ? How sundrie times in Dangers den Is throwne the man vnwyse ? Who climes withouten holde on hye , Beware , I him aduize . All such as trust to false contracts , Or secret harmes conspire ? Be sure , with Nortons they shal taste A right deserued hire . They can not looke for better spéede , No death for such too fell ? God grant the iustice of the worlde Put by the paynes of hell . For such a pensiue case it is , That English harts did dare To passe the boundes of duties lawe , Or of their cuntrie care . And mercie hath so long releast Offendours ( God doth know ) And bountie of our curteous Quéene Too long hath spared her foe . But God , whose grace inspires her harte , Wyll not abyde the spight Of Rebels rage , who rampe to reach From her , her title quight . Although shee flowe in pitifull zeale , And loueth to sucke no blood : Yet God a caueat wyll her lend T' appease those Vipers moode . A man that sées his house on fire , Wyll seke to quench the flame : Els from the spoyle some parte conuey , Els seke the heate to tame . Who sée a penthouse wether beate , And heares a boistrouse wynde : But héedefull sasetie of himselfe , Wyll force him succour fynde ? The pitifull pacient Pellican , Her blood although shée shed : Yet wyll shée seme her date to end , Or care her young be sped . The Eagle flynges her yong ones downe That sight of sunne refuse : Vnperfect fowles shée deadly hates , And rightly such misvse . The Crane wolde flye vp to the Sunne , I heard it once of olde : And with the kyng of byrdes did striue By Fame , I heard it tolde And do woe she wolde not fal f●e no , But higher styll did mou●● : Til past her reach ( saith olde reporte ) Shame made a backe recour I touch no Armes herein at all But shew a fable wyse : Whose morall sence doth repr 〈…〉 Of clymers hye the guyse . Who buyldes a house of many 〈…〉 , and laith not ground work 〈…〉 But doth ertorte the ground 〈…〉 g , His buildyng can not dure 〈…〉 ¶ Who sekes surmising to disp 〈…〉 a Ruler sent by GOD : Is subiect sure , deuoide of grace The cause of his owne rod . A byrde that wyll her nest defyle By right should loose a wyng : And then is shee no flying fowle , But slow as other thyng . And he that loseth all at games , Or spendes in fowle excesse : And hopes by haps to heale his harme , Must drinke of deare distresse . To speake of brydles to restrayne This wylfull wayward crewe : They care not for the booke of God , To Princes , men vntrue . To cuntrye , causers of much woe , To faithfull fréendes , a fall : And to their owne estates , a styng , To others , sharpe as gall . O Lorde , how long these Lizerds lurkt , Good GOD , how great a whyle Were they in hand with feigned harts Their cuntrye to defyle ? How did they frame their furniture ? How sit they made their tooles : How Symon sought our englysh Troie To bryng to Romaine scooles . How Simon Magus playd his parte , How Babilon bawde did rage : How Basan bulles begon to bell , How Iudas sought his wage . How Iannes and Iambres did abyde The brunt of brainesicke acts , How Dathan , Chore , Abiram séemd To dash our Moyses facts . How Romaine marchant set a fresh His pardons braue a sale , How alwayes some against the Truth Wolde dreame a senceles tale . Gods vicar from his god receaued The keyes to lose and bynd : Baals chaplein thoght his fire wo 〈…〉 e Such was his pagan mynd . Good Lorde how hits the ter● their 〈…〉 t s That saith such men shall bée In their religion hot nor colde Of much varietie . And sundry sorts of sects sur 〈…〉 Diuision shall appeare : Against the father , sonne sha 〈…〉 ue , Gainst mother , daughter 〈…〉 e. Is it not come to passe trow you ? Yea , bastards sure they bée , Who our good mother Quéene 〈…〉 Withstand rebelliouslie . Can God his vengeance long reta 〈…〉 Where his true seruants féele Iniuriouse spights of godlesse men , Who turne as doth a whéele ? No no , his suffryug long ( be sure ) Wyll pay his foes at last : His mercye moued once away , He shall them quight out cast With sentence iust for their vntruth , And breakyng of his wyll : The fruits of their sedicious séeds , The barnes of earth shall fyll . Their soules God wot sore clogd with crime And their posteritie Bespotted sore with their abuse , And stand by their follie . Their liuyngs left their name a shame , Their deedes with poyson sped : Their deathes a wage for want of grace Their honours quite is dead . Their flesh to feede the kytes and crowes Their armes a maze for men : Their guerdon as examples are To dash dolte Dunces den . Throw vp your snouts you sluggish sorte You mumming maskyng route : Extoll your exclamations vp , Baals chapleines , champions stoute . Make sute for pardons , papists braue , For traitours indulgence : Send out some purgatorie scraps , Some Bulls with Peter pence . O swarme of Drones , how dare ye styl With labouryng Bées contend ? You sought for home from the hiues , But gall you found in end . These waspes do wast , their stings be out Their spight wyll not auayle : These Peacocks proude are naked lefte Of their displayed tayle . These Turkye cocks in cullour red , So long haue lurkt a loofe : The Beare ( although but slow of foote ) Hath pluct his wynges by proofe . The Moone her borowed light hath lost , Shee wayned as we see : Who hoped by hap of others harmes , A full Moone once to bée . The Lyon suffred long the Bull , His noble mynd to trye : Vntyll the Bull was rageyng wood , And from his stake did hye . Then time it was to bid him stay Perforce , his hornes to cut : And make him leaue his rageing tunes In scilence to be put . And all the calues of Basan kynd Are weaned from their wish : The Hircan Tigers tamed now , Lemathon eates no fish . Beholde before your balefull eyes The purchace of your parte , Suruey your sodeine sorrowful sight With sighes of dubble harte . Lament the lacke of your alies Religious rebells all : Bewepe that yll successe of yours , Come curse your sodeine fall . And when ye haue your guiles out sought And all your craft approued , Peccauimus shall be your song Your ground worke is remoued . And looke how Nortons sped their wills Euen so their sect shall haue , No better let them hope to gayne But gallowes without graue .

que William Gibson . ¶ FINIS .