The vpcheringe of the messe Shepherd, Luke, fl. 1548. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A07232 of text S109942 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 17630). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 13 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 9 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A07232 STC 17630 ESTC S109942 99845572 99845572 10479 2240866530

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A07232) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 10479) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 137:13) The vpcheringe of the messe Shepherd, Luke, fl. 1548. [16] p. By Iohn Daye and Willyam Seres, Inprinted at Lo[n]don : [1548?] By Luke Shepherd. In verse. Publication date conjectured by STC. Signatures: A. Reproduction of the original in the Bodleian Library. eng Catholic Church -- Controversial literature -- Early works to 1800. eebo The vpcheringe of the messe. Shepherd, Luke 1548 18 1979 2 0 0 0 0 0 10.11 C The rate of 10.11 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2004-08 Assigned for keying and markup 2004-08 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2004-10 Sampled and proofread 2004-10 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-01 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

The vp cheringe of the messe : In printed at London by John Daye and Willyam Seres .

Who hath not knowen or herd how we were made a feard That magre of our beard Our messe shulde cleane 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 mencion maketh or tells We must beleue what ells ? Of things done by councells . Wherin the high professours Apostlique successours Take holde to be possessours And some wer 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 Inquysicion 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 shal be hir better As light as ye do set hir The scripture hath nothing Wher by 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 to well And many a prety Iwelle 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 Jest Of all suche thinge the best For if she were supprest A pyn for all the rest . But harke to me a while And marke ye well my style All ye that speake so vyle And woulde the messe exile Tidynges I can you tel She is like here to dwel In dispite of the Gospel For al his lokes so snel And also I wyl proue It wil the Gospel behoue To sue to haue her loue For within fewe yeres He durst not for his eares Be sene in all this land Nor harde nor had in hand But she had by hym stande He was hir seruaunt than Let him say what he can With him durst no man Meddle more or lesse But whan he harde messe This must he nedes confesse Or eles in exposicions Or doctors dispuicions Such were the constitutions And also institucions Suche were their prohibicions And also inhibicions He durste not crie creake Till he coulde englishe speake But lyke an huddy peake Kepe warme hys braynes weake And nowe he is full cranke And conneth hir no thanke But compteth hir as ranke As any on the bancke But maister Euangelium The tyme agayne may come But wel ther mum Ha , Ha , Hum. Wel yet ther be some That are not all dum That long hath hold theyr peace And were content to cease Leste malice should encrese To frie them in their grese And nowe they be turned lose They passe not of a gose To saye the worst they can By messe the powre woman What did I call hir pore ? Naye some wyl cal hir whore And stireth a great vprore Some cal hir popes daughter Some sayes she made māslauhgter Some turne hir to alaughte : Some wold they had not sought hir Som cursseth hym that brought hir And him that first taught hir Some say she is a leache To make whole scabes & bleache Some saye she is good for byles And good for hum bledheles And good for kowe or Oxe That chafid be wyth yockes And good for hens and cockes To kepe them from the fox They saye she is good for the pox And such as haue sore dockes And as for gaulde horse backes That chased be with packes With panyers and wyth sackes No helpe they saye she lackes And good for meselde hogges And also maungye dogges But for a Winchester goslynge They saye she passeth al thing She bringeth wether clere And seasonable yere And if it neade agayne They saye she bringeth raine She seaceth thonder lowde And carieth euerie cloude They say the plage and pestilence The feuer and the epilence The popish messe expelleth hence And grasse she maketh growe And fayre wynde to blowe And rule it highe and lowe Her power is greate I trowe And some saye wedes & thornes She kepeth from the cornes And yet some mockes & scornes And say hir pristes make hornes On eueninges and in mornes Thus do they hir defame And slaunder hir good name Wherin they be to blame For I can good wittnes fet That she neuer holpe on yet Thus thei speake and spare not And what thei prate thei care not For lowdly do they sounde That missa is not founde Within the byble boke Who so theron shall loke And yet they be a croke Amisse the marcke they toke Ther shal ye find misach A wel , howe lyke ye thys knacke ? Wherefore loke about And serche in and out For she is no lowt I put you out of doubt She is not cleane forsaken But very wel taken Yea yea be lakin She is worth a flicke of baco And if it be well sought She wil not so be bought Yet may ye se hir for nought In many holy places Within a fewe paces An holy holy thinge Especially when they synge With mery piping And besy chauntyng We maye be veri glade That yet the messe is had For al it is so bad The people be as mad As euer they may be The messe to here and se Auengaunce on it for me For I am al moste werye I haue taken suche payne To bringe hir home agayne Wherfore nowe totus mundus That round is and rotundus Be mery and Jocundus And sing the letabundus With al the whole chorus That here hath ben before vs And al the sely soules That hereth messe in poules And in al places beside In london that is wyde Where messe is song or sayd And be nothinge affraed That she shal go awaye But tary whyle she maye For she must long continue She hath suche greate retynue Stronge men of bone and sinue Ye can no better wyshe They wyl sticke to their stochfish And stande lyke lusty bloudes Aduenturinge lyfe and goodes And all to put in peril For mastres missas quarel And nothynge wil they shrincke No more then for to drincke To spake such as they thincke No no they wyll not wincke At matters to be sene Nor let for king or qnene Ye gesse nere whom I meane Yet is it sayed I wene He caried not al cleane Yet hath he bolder ben Then other fiften Wherefore he maye be praysed That such a noyse is raysed And thorowe Englande voysed That he woulde be so hardy Thoughe he were taken tardy He thought or he went thens To declare his consciens A man of muche sapience And ful of goodly sentence Wel lyke to wyn the audience By his copious Eloquence If wel he might enchieued For many men beleued That he coulde haue remeued And wonne by his entent Al that there were presente Alacke they were not bent To graunt or to consent To suche thinges as he ment He talked that religions With al their prety pigions For good entent were wroughte God wotteth what he thought He spake it not for noughte Though scripture he ne brought But if he would haue sought He coulde haue proued it there Or a horse coulde lyke his eare That taking awaye the il They might haue stand stil And in lyke case by Images And all maner of ceremonies But tushe let go thes bables And al these fible fables The messe he did auaunce And highly hir enhaunce To be so such perfection As neadeth no correction Nor yet to haue infection For al hir late detection Nor worthie of suspection So cleare is hir confection And purenes of complection By catholyke election She semes to take erection Aboue the resurrection Nor neuer was his lot In hir so spie a spot But cleane from blurre and blot He loueth hir wel , god wot There can no droncken sot Loue more the good ale pot I dare saye at this howre Thoughe he be in the towre Yet doeth he styl honoure The messe that swete a flowre Wherfore ye priestes al That styl continue shal With messinge in the temple Forget not thys exemple Of thys your father That ye maye the rather Obtayne the grace To come to the place Wher he doeth abyde And loke ye do not slyde But sticke to hir harde Or elles all is marde And whan ye may not chuse Then must ye hir refuse Ther wil be heauy newes As euer came to the stewes The contrye is not fayre And she liketh not the ayre Wherfore if she appayre Nedes home she muste repayre There is no such remedie As is hir natiue contrie And if she chaunce to dye I can not helpe it I But synge place bo Tut let hir gooe I wene we get no mo A good mestres missa Shal ye go from vs thissa ▪ Wel yet I muste ye kyssa 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 she must neades be gone Nowe let vs synge eche one boeth Jak and gyll and Jone Requiem eternam Lest penam sempiternam For vitam supernam And vmbram infernam For veram lucernam She chaunce to enherite According to hir merite Pro cuius memoria Ye maye wel be soria Full smale maye be your gloria When ye shal heare thys storia Then wil ye crie and roria We shal so hir no moria Et dicam vobis quare She may no longer stare Nor here with you regnare But trudge ad vltra mare And after habitare In regno plutonico Et E●o acronyco Cum cetu babilonico Et cantu diabolico With pollers and p●iller And al hir well willers And ther to dwel euer And thus wil I leaue hir . FINIS .