The vvhipper of the satyre his pennance in a white sheete: or, The beadles confutation Guilpin, Edward. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A21954 of text S121565 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. 17KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 14 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 B13818

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B13818) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 177523) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1016:08) The vvhipper of the satyre his pennance in a white sheete: or, The beadles confutation Guilpin, Edward. [32] p. Printed [by W. White] for Thomas Pauier, At London : 1601. By Edward Guilpin. Misattributed to John Marston. A reply to: W.I. The whipping of the satyre. In verse. Printer's name from STC. Signatures: A-B. Running title reads: The whippers pennance. The last three leaves are blank. Identified as STC 25351 on UMI microfilm. Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.

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 eng W. I., fl. 1601. -- Whipping of the satyre -- Controversial literature -- Early works to 1800. eebo The vvhipper of the satyre his pennance in a white sheete: or, The beadles confutation Guilpin, Edward. 1601 26 2790 33 0 0 0 0 0 118.28 F The rate of 118.28 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2014-01 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2014-03 Sampled and proofread 2014-03 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2015-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

THE Whipper of the Satyre his pennance in a white Sheete : OR , The Beadles Confutation .

printer's or publisher's device

AT LONDON Printed for Thomas Pauier . 1601.

TO ALL IVDICIALL CENSVRERS . BRaue sp'rited Gentles , on whose comely from The Rose of fauour sits Maiestica●l , I bend the stubborne Atlas of sterne wroth . But for the fau'rus of a b●st●rd quill , The instrument of a poore Beadles rage : I greete them with a careles mindes resolue , Trueth feares no touch , ne dreades presumptions scourge ; Pr●ud Tyrany by vsurpation C●nnot depose inuested Veritie : Vaile Bonnet then insulting Tamberlayne ; At least a Monarch : if the Satyrs Whip He must be carted t●en , for Pride must mount . Marry an● shall ; but wee le no Bazons tang : Yes yes at any hand ; I le tell y●u why , If all be whist , we shall w●nt company . Then Pride will faint : Oh haue a care to that , For if he ride not in his glorious pompe , It is no gl●ry : Therefore a Doung-cart Ho'e , To glut the world with greater admiration , For thinges of worth feed all mens expectation . But worthy Readers of my worthles Writ , As Writers onely ayme to please the Wise , So my endeuour is to lodge content Within the closet of iudiciall hartes . Iudge then aright , and with supposes helpe Strengthen my imperfection , where Art wantes Reason shall leud supply : imagin then You s●e the Satyrs Whipper in his pride , Drawne by an Infant of a Satyrist : Who though he hath receiued many a ierke , Read with what patience he susteynes that yoke : ●ut if y●u finde him out of order tripping , Dispence with him that 's subiect vnto whipping .
The Satyrs whipper his pennance in a white Sheete . OR , The Beadles Confutation . NOw for a Scourge of Wire to tyranize On the proud Carkase of poore penurie . Whose daring Muse doth ouer dare peet eies To gaze vpon her imbecillitie : Too weake a foe to shun a destine dainger , Vnder the habbit of a forraine stranger . Were I a Satyre , as no Satirist , A Poet , as I cannot poetize : Or as thou tearm'●t an Epigramatist : Were I Arts maister , or could morralize , I would dare more to him , that dare so much , Whose thoughts diuine he doth so sharply touch . O'rwening Beadell , term'd the Satyr's Whip , No maruell though the worldes Inhabitants Sucke the'nfectious blood of sinnes sweete lip , And in such antique shapes so proudly vauntes : No maruell if it be at such a stay , When impecuninus Asses beare such sway . I meane such Striplinges as perhaps he is , Who ouertooke in vndertaking Arme● , Armes fram'd of wordes , who with a Iudas kisse Doth hugg the world , and with sweet sowre alarm's Doth animate it to persist in sinne , And why ? because he knowes it ioyes therein . But thou ( vaineglorious ) who so e're thou art , That would'st disgrace such as anotomize The times abusers , and by Wit and Art Prooue faslhood trueth : How can that sympathize ? Gainst thee I write , to thee my Writ commend , Vnknowne thy foe , though knowen perhaps no frend . Nor subtill Wit , nor sweete tong'd Poetrie , Nor Art , the glorie of vaineglorious men , Shall ayde my feeble imbecilitie : The question is , how to confute thee then ? Reason , that in the robes of Sence did sute mee , sayes , mauger Art or Wit I shall confute thee . And thus I argue , holding argument Against the proud aspiring insolent Apparreld in an imbry vestament , As if within obliuious continent : But such a hissing Serpent can not lie Vnder the shadow of obscuritie . Thou that ly'st lurking in a Buzards shape , ( A Fowles shape , fitting such a busie foole ) Thou which dost after some promotion gape , Clawing the world ; come take an humble stoole : Seate thee by mee , do but as I will do , And thou shalt haue a friend ; yea , perhaps two . I hate the world , and yet hate not to bee , Because I am perforce , euen what I am : I scorne the world , and therefore I scorne thee , That dallies with it as a Curtizan : But had I fast lost oportunitie , You should be whipt , and nor a Whipper be . Reuil'st thou him that telleth man of sinne , Seeming to foster such as sinfull be : Better it we●e thy Pen at rest had bin , Then to vphold such publique villanie : Should not the worlde be told of sinne ; and why ? Yes maugre Art or Wit : I say you lye . Doth one amisse , or doth the Child offend ? Shall not the Fathers care correct that Child , First by perswasions kindly to amende , And gentle speeches , wordes with fauour milde ? Will not this do , and shall he spare the body Of that faire Stripling ? Go to , you are a noddy . Had I a Child ( though bearing name of Will ) He should not tie that Will vnto himselfe : Selfe-will is nought , t is bad , t is passing ill , Should Will in that will ioy , I 'de ierke the elfe : And so should'st thy wayward Child , or rather I wish thee liue a foole , then proue a father . Whether i's t Art or Poetrie or Wit , Or all , or none ; or but thine owne conceit , That bid● mee seeing sinne , not chide with it , The last I hold it rather , sound retreit : Be still , be still , t were good you call them in , Your scoutes I meane , that so incourrage sinne . Not tell the world of sinne ? yes that I will , Though thou with treble prohibition frowne : I say t is naught , t is wild , t is worse then ill , And some will turne it topsie turuie downe , And thou thy selfe a Worme , as others bee , Thou flatter'st with the world : shall I with thee ? No no , thou art vnwise for all thy wit , For Reason and true-Iudgment tels me so . Do I amisse ? how should I know of it , By hums , or hems , or signes ? Good Wizard no . If I haue sinne , and know not what it is , I may be dam'd , not knowing my amisse . But t is reply'd , if we would learne aright We must giue eare vnto the heauenly voyce Of sacred Teachers , comforting the spright , Where holy people sing with dulcet noize : All this I graunt , and there man may heare much , But yet his eare of sinne can brooke no tuch . If one amongst a multitude , t is well : But preethee , canst thou tell mee which is hee ? The diuine Preacher tells men there is Hell , And Heauen likewise ; ther 's blisse , and miserie : Who seekes the one ? or who doth shun the other ? So much is man to shune a sinfull brother . Those sacred Pastors take exceeding paine , To winne the wicked to a blessed life , Commanding man from wickednesse refraine , But still dissention sets vs all at strife : They may command as God commandeth them But we will do our willes : Why ? we are men . But let the Heauens frowne , the Welkin thunder , Perhaps wee le feare a little , and minde our God : Threats may preuaile , & signes may mak vs wonder Yet feare we not , vntill we feele the rod . Is this our life ? then whip each other well , Better be whipt on Earth , then scourg'd in Hell . I meete a follow as the str●etes I pace , That holde● the word of God vnder his arme : I aske from whence he comes ? with humble grace And saluations that pretend no harme He answeres me ; From Paules : Who reeds to day ? A toward Scholler , but I could not stay . And why ( quoth I ? ) Faith ther s no roome , sayes he . Your reason sir ? Are all the places taken ? No , t is his doctrine which disliketh me . As how ? Eeuen thus : Hee sayes I am forsaken . How , of the Diuell ? a happie man are you . No , but of God : yea , and he sayes t is true . Within this Eearth ( and then he strikes his brest ) I know but onely one poore imperfection : Which if but nam'd , the namer I detest , The thought whereof , breedes such reiection : For since the Satyrist so playd on mee , I can not brooke to heare of letcherie . &c. Now sir , to you sir , that can cast so well , And haue a tricke in wrastling for a foyle ; Verbosious sir , you that with words will quell Vndaunted spirites , you that keepe such coyle , By turning heeles vp : were you not I pray At my Lord Maiors wrastling tother day ? Was it not you that fell the lubber downe , And gaue the Miller such a clenly fall ? Or was it you lay flatly on the ground , When cappes flew vp , and men cride , God saue all ? Or were you then at Cambridge when you thought You could do this and that , and all was nought ? But what , where , when , or who , I care not ; Haue at you sir , and that I tro's faire play : I giue you warning , and in fayth sir spare not , To shield your selfe against this first assay . You stroue gainst many , I onely striue with one , One single fall ( kind sir ) and I haue done . I lay my life I throw you : brauely sayd : Nay I will do it , if not done before . What dares your Worship my resolue vpbraid ? I stand on firme ground , and haue helpes good store Part fire and tow , all mercie els is fled , Stand vp for shame , the coller slips your head . A Gentleman that had a wayward Foole , To passe the time , would needes at pusti-pin play : And playing false , doth stirre the wau'ring stoole , The Innocent had ●pi'd him , and cri'd stay , Play that againe s●yd he , you did not win , And then the foole began to cry for 's pin . Thou absurd Asse ( his Maister then replyes ) Must you needes whine , & strooke him on the eare : With that the foole was whist , and dry'd his eyes , And afterwards he durst not cry for feare : When he perceiu'd the blowes he got thereby , The Foole grew wise , and did forbeare to cry . Now censure ( gentle spirits ) i's t not faire ? Haue I not cast him cle y● Iudgement ho● ? Now by my Muse , and shee s scarce worth a haire , Was neuer Wiseman had so kind● thro● , And by the foole in that lift ouerthrowne , A foole or no foole , is the Whipper one ? One sayes an Eccho , from a hollow Caue Sounded by thousandes which concord as one , Who cal●es a seeming honest man a knaue , Without he prooue his imperfection : And when by proofe that sinfull fault he know , Will he not call him friend that told him so . Then friendly Satyrist , to thy Pen againe , Let not one priuat Nouice terrifie With halting lynes , thy Yron lasting braine , Whom sacred Trueth doth dayly nutrifie : But with a brow according to thy hart , I towne on the world , and giue it his desart . How many soules within this little rownd , Blest with the knowledge of Diuinitie , And for their zeale vnto the high'st renownd Vnder the scepter of Virginitie , Who haue a thousand thousand sundry times Grafted sweete Grapes vpon vnpleasant Vines . And where is one that takes ? where may we finde A hart conuerted from impietie ? Do we not swimme in sinne ? Are we not blind , And howerly bath vs in iniquitie ? And yet for all these imperfections , We should be free from all corrections ? No no , since kinde perswasions will not do , Sung from the tongue of dulcet pietie , Let irefull Fury whip and scourge them to , Sounding their soules perpetuall miserie : Hell ganes for such , and such as sinfull bee Must taste the horror of obscuritie , Insatiate Pride , whose siluer spaugled tyre , Makes her admired in a vulgar eye , Her dangling Aglers which so high aspire , As if she were not base mortallitie : Ringes euery houre her soules killing knell , And summons her vnto the court of Hell . But when a sinne is spoken generall , Who will assume it , and say I am shee : Yet if a man meete Pride maiesticall , And to her face say , Poore proude miserie , Vaile Bonnet huswife , what ? I know your name , Shee 'le blush & hide her wanton face for shame . If this will then force reformation , Why shall I feare to say a knaue ' , a knaue ? What shall I stand in dread of coniuration , Because Untrusse hath from his duskie Caue Sent a leane writhen Beadle all in haste , To lay the mantion of the Satyres waste . No no , auaunt bace Feare , it cannot bee , Tell him , the Satyre may not be deposd , So long as Trueth sings his Apologie : Nor is he of so bace a mould composd , As to be subiect to a slight impression , For a true Satyre's guyltles of transgression . If I should say , thou wert a busie Sir , With a good conscience canst thou say I lie ? Was neuer Whipper kept so great a stir , H●uing such careles soules for Tyrranie ? For were it not a Gentleman's disgrace , I 'de tearme the Whipper foole vnto his face . Perhaps your wisedome will a lash impose Of fell correction , on my tender backe : Well if you do , you shall no labour lose , I le take it well in woorth : but if you lacke , What so you chaunce to lend without request , I will repay 't with double interest . Meane time , good Satyre to thy wonted traine , As yet there are no lettes to hinder thee ▪ Thy touching quill with a sweete moouing straine , Sings to the soule a blessed lullabie : Thy lines beget a tymerous feare in all , And that same feare deepe thoughts angellicall . So that the whylome le●wd lasciuious man , Is now remote from his abhorred life , And cloathes the dalliance of a Curtezan , And euery breathing wicked soule at strife : Co●tending which shall first begin to mend , That they may glory in a blessed end . Droupe then ( wise Foole ) and with a blush of shame Of firie coullor shadow thy pale face : I know thy thoughts ●ow'● high as golden fame : But Pride aspiring take● with foule disgrace , Y●el● then confuted , and with patience beare This gentle pennance , as a single sh●●e .
FINIS .