John Bon and Mast Person Shepherd, Luke, fl. 1548. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A21506 of text S110346 in the English Short Title Catalog. 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. 13KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 B11668

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B11668) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 178530) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1746:6) John Bon and Mast Person Shepherd, Luke, fl. 1548. [8] p. Imprinted by J. Daye and W. Seres, [London : 1548?] A satirical dialogue in verse. Attributed to Shepherd by NUC pre-1956 imprints. Illustrated t.p. Imprint suggested by NUC pre-1956 imprints and STC (2nd ed.). Reproduction of original in the British Library.

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 eng eebo John Bon and Mast Person Shepherd, Luke, active 1548. 1548 9 1936 3 0 0 0 0 0 15.5 C The rate of 15.5 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2014-02 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2014-04 Sampled and proofread 2014-04 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2015-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
Iohn Bon and Mast person
Eucharistic procession
☞ Alas●e poore fooles , so sore ye be lade No maruel it is , thoughe your shoulders ake For ye beare a great God , which ye your selfes made Make of it what ye wyl , it is a wafar cake And betwen two Irons printed it is and bake And loke where Idolatrye is , Christe wyl not be there Wherfore ley downe your burden , and Idoleye do beare ☞ Alasse poore Fooles .
☞ The parson WHat Iohn Bon good morowe to the Iohn Bon . Nowe good morowe mast parson so mut I thee Parson What meanest thou Iohn to be at worke so sone Iohn The zoner I begyne the zoner shall I haue done For I tende to warke no longer then none Parson . Mary Iohn for that gods blessinge on thy herte For surely some therbe wyl go to ploughe an carte And set not by thys holy , corpus christi euen Iohn They aer the more to blame I swere by saynt Steuen But tell me mast parson one thinge and you can What saynt is copsi cursty a man or a woman ? Parson Why Iohn knoweste not that ? I tel the it was a man , It is Christe his owne selfe and to morowe is hys daye We beare hym in profession and thereby knowe it ye maye Iohn I knowe mast parson ? and na by my faye But me thinke it is a mad thinge that ye saye That it shoulde be a man howe can it come to passe Because ye maye hym beare with in so smal a glasse Parson Why neybor Iohn and art thou nowe there ? Nowe I maye perceyue ye loue thys newe geare Iohn Gods forbod master , I should be of that facion I question wy your mashippe in waye of cumlication A playne man ye may se wil speake as cometh to mind Ye muste holde vs ascused for plowe men be but biynd I am an elde felowe of fifty wynter and more And yet in all my lyfe I knewe not this before Parson No dyd , why sayest thou so , vpon thy selfe thou lyest Thou haste euer knowen the sacramente to be the body of Christ Iohn Ye syr ye say true , all that I know in dede And yet as I remember it is not in my crede But as for cropsy cursty to be a man or no I knewe not tyll thys day by the waye my soule shal to Parson Why folishe felowe , I tel the it is so For it was so determined by the churche longe ago It is both the sacramente and very Christ him selfe Iohn No spleaser mast parson then make ye Christe an elfe And the maddest made man that euerbody sawe Parson What ? peace mad man thou speakeste lyke a dawe It is not possible hys manhode for to se Iohn Why sir ye tell me it is euen verye he And if it be not his manhode , his godhed it must be Parson I tell the none of both , what meaneste thou , art thou mad ? Iohn No nother mad nor druncke , but to learne I am glade But to displease your mashippe I woulde be very loth Ye graunt me here playnly that it is none of boeth Then is it but a cake , but I pray ye be not wroth . Parson Wroth quod ha , by the masse thou makest me swere an othe I hade leuer wyth a docter of diuinitie to reason Then wyth a stubble cur that eateth beanes and peason Iohn I crie ye mercye mast person pacience for a season In all thys cumlicacion is nother felony nor treason Parson No by the masse but herest thou , it is playne heresye Iohn I am glade it chaunced so , theyr was no witnes by And if ther had I cared not , for ye spake as yl as I I speake but as I harde you saye I wot not what ye thought Ye sayd it was not God nor man & made it worsse then nought Parson I ment not so , thou tokeste me wronge Iohn A sir ye singe another songe I dare not reason wyth you longe I se well nowe ye haue a knacke To saye a thynge and then go backe Parson No Iohn I was but a littyll ouer sene But thou mentest not good fayeth I wene In all thys talke that was vs betwene Iohn I ? no trowe it shannot so beene That Iohn Bon shall an heretike be calde Then myght he saye him so fowle befalde . Parson . But nowe if thou wylt marke me well From begynninge to endynge I wyl the tell Of the godly seruice that shal be to morowe That or I haue done no doubte thou wylt sorowe To here that suche thynges shoulde be fordone And yet in many places they haue be gun To take a waye the olde and set vp newe Beleue me Iohn thys tale is true Iohn Go to mast parson saye on and well to thryne Ye be the Iolest gemman that euer sawe in my lyue Parson We shal firste haue matins , is it not a godly hereynge ▪ Iohn Fie ? Yes , me thinke t is a shamefull gay chearynge For often times on my prayers , when I take no greate kepe Ye sing so arantly well , ye make me fal a slepe Parson Then haue we profession and Christe aboute we beare Iohn That is apoysone holy thinge , for God him selfe is ther Parson Than comme we in and redy vs dresse Full solempnely to goo to Messe Iohn Is not here a mischeuous thynge ? The Messe is vengaunce holye for all ther sayeinge Parson Then saye we Confiteor and miseriatur Iohn Ieze Lorde t is abbominable matter Parson And then we stande vp to the auter Iohn Thys geere is as good as oure ladies sawter Parson And so gose fourth wyth the other dele Tyll we haue rede the Pistell and Gospell Iohn That is good mast person I knowe ryght well Parson Is that good ? why what sayste thou to the other Iohn Mary horrible good I saye none other Parson So is all the messe I dare auow this As good in euery poynte as Pistell or Gospel is Iohn The fowle euyll it is , whoe woulde thynke so muche In fayeth I euer thought that it had bene no suche Parson Then haue we the canon that is holyest Iohn A spightfull gay thynge of all that euer I wyst Parson Then haue we the memento euen before the sacringe Iohn Ye are morenly well learned I se by your recknynge That ye wyll not forget suche an eluyshe thynge Parson And after that we consecrate very God and man And turne the breade to fleshe wyth fyue wordes we can Iohn The deuell ye do I trowe . Ther is pestilence busines Ye are much bounde to god , for suche a spittell holines A galows gay gifte wyth fyue wordes alone To make boeth God and man and yet wese none Ye talke so vnreasonably well , it maketh my herte yerne As elde a felow as yche am I se well I maye learne Parson Yea Iohn and then wyth wordes holy and good Euen by and by we tourne the wyne to bloude Iohn Lo wyll ye se lo ? who woulde haue thought it That ye could so sone , from wine to bloud ha brought it And yet except your mouth , be better tasted than myne I can not fele it other but that it shoulde be wyne And yet I wote nere a cause ther maye be whye Perchaunce ye ha dronke bloude ofter then euer dyd I Parson Truely Iohn it is bloud though it be wine in taste As soone as the worde is spoke the wyne is gone & past Iohn A sessions on it for me my wyttes are me benumme For I can not study where the wyne shoulde become Parson . Study quod ha , beware and let suche matter go To meddle muche wyth thys may brynge ye sone to wo Iohn Yea but mast parson thynk ye it were ryght That if I desired you to make my blake oxe whight And you saye it is done , and styl is ●●acke in syght Ye myght me deme a foole for to beleue so lyght Parson I maruell muche ye wyll reason so farre I feare if ye vse it , it wyll ye mar Iohn No no sir I truste of that I wylbe ware I praye you wyth your matter agayne fourth to fare Parson And thē we go forth and Christes body receyue Euyn the very same that mary dyd conceyue Iohn The deuill it is , ye haue a greate grace To eate God and man in so short , a space Parson And so we make an ende as it lieth in an order , But now the blessed mene is hated in euery border And railed on & reuiled , with wordes most blasphemous But I trust it wylbe better with the help of Catechismus For thoughe it came forth but euen that other day Yet hath it tourned many to ther olde waye And where they hated meste and had it in disdayne There haue they messe and matins in latyne tonge againe Ye euen in London selfe ( Iohn ) I tel the troeth They be ful glade & mery to here of thys God knoweth Iohn By my trueth mast parson I lyke full wel your talke But masse me no more messinges . The right way wil I walke For thoughe I haue no learning yet I know chese from chalke And yche can perceiue your iuggling as crafty as ye walke But leue your deuilish masse & the communion to you take And thē will Christ be with you euen for his promisse sake Parson Why art thou suche a one and kept it so closse Wel al is not golde that hath a fayre glosse But farewel Iohn Bon god bringe thee in better mind Iohn I thanke you sir for that you seme verie kynde But praye not so for me for I am well In oughe Whistill boy , driue furth God spede vs and the plough Ha browne done , forth that horson crabbe Ree comomyne , garlde , wyth haight blake ha Haue a gayne bald before , hayght ree who , Cherly boy cum of that whomwarde we maye goo FINIS .

☞ Imprinted at London by Iohn Daye , and Willyā Seres , dwellinge in Sepulchres Parishe at the signe of the resurrection a littel aboue Holbourne conduite .

❧ Cum gratia & priuilegio ad imprimendum solum .