Answer to a Papistical Exhortation
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This project was conceived to clean up those books as much as possible and make them more accessible to the interested reader, leading to the creation of a massive list of variant spellings and their corrections. This was used to clean up the text, but is of course only as complete as the list itself. Because of the nature of the original transcription, some words have missing characters or places where the original language (e.g., Greek) was not transcribed. This effort does not change that. Be aware that the original transcription can also be faulty and in some cases entire sentences may be missing.
Although this is no substitute for a properly compared, proofed, and scholarly edition, I believe that the result is a document which is far more accessible, particularly for searching for terms using standard spelling. The document has been cleaned and presented in what I hope is a pleasing and useful format for the vast majority of Christian brothers and sisters who just want access to read these spiritually nourishing works.
However, a word of warning: The Puritans were a very diverse group of people and their age was characterized with godliness, but also much upheaval, disputation and strife. They disagreed on many doctrines and some of these works contain less orthodox or Scriptural views than others. The reader is strongly advised to read with discernment, particularly if it is unknown whether author is trustworthy.
This project took a huge amount of time and skill to bring to fruition. I would particularly like to thank David Jonescue for the initial list of Puritans he found on EEBO and the concept behind this project as well as the continuous, unceasing efforts toward seeing this complete. Without his labor, this would not be available. Alex Sarrouf was invaluable in providing the initial list of over 7,000 spelling variations he had identified and corrected, as well as continuing to review more than 16,000 additions to that list for any typos.
Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org
An answer to a papistical exhortation, pretendynge to avoid false doctrine, under that color to maintain the same.
By there fruits shall ye know them.
Math. 7.
E
Verye pylde pedlar
Wyll be a medlar
Though there wyttes be drowsye
And there learning lowsye
Ther meters all mangye
Rashe, rural, and grangye
Yet will they forward halte
As men mased in malte
These vile cannell rakers
Are now becumme makers
Ther poems out they dashe
With all there swyber swashe
Ther darnel and there chaff
Ther swylle and swynyshe draff
Soche pype such melodye
Soche bag such beggary.
Of pylde popish facyons
They strowe exhortacions
The people to infecte.
With the sedes of there sect
Pretendynge to dyffyne
Agaynst the false doctrine
But such dirty gear
Ded men never hear.
They teache nat in meter
With Paul Johan and Peter
The world to edyfye
With gods word christenlye
But scriptures they deprave
As mad men that do rave
They dance with the devil
To magnysye there evil
They drysle forth a dram
As he that to Christ camme
To trappe him in a snare
Forsoth it is fond ware
Let christen men take hede
Unto there wicked seed
For they seek for to blind
The syllye simple mind,
The papists title. An exhortacy on to avoid false doctrine.
The papyste.
My mind cannot perfughtelye endyre
Neither my pen can trewlye write
As my heart doth desire.
The cause only is for lack of sight
In learning that is so perfect and bright
Wherefore pardō of good mē I required
The chrystiane.
Your pen and your mind
Are both of one kind
And fit for such an heart
As owl in the night
Without gostly sight
Ye play a knauyshe part.
Of such wolves beware
As lay forth a snare
Of outward holiness.
For they do nat elles
But play the rebels
Agaynst gods righteousness.
The papyste.
If any man else be grieved with this
Let them take it even as it is
And I pray God them to amende
I think with charyte them to tell
As I find written in the gospel
To the law of God we should attends.
The chrystiane.
Lyke a braynyshe dolte
Ye shote forth your bolte
As bold as bayarde blind
ye love the gospel
As the devil of hell
Here after we shall it find
Attend to gods law
And to his word draw
All you that faithful be
The leaven eschew
Of pharisees untrue
If ye love the verity.
The papyste
Some of late with them selves persuaded
Out of the shalowe so fair they waded
That they felt no ground.
They had thought us to have blinded
And of the truth us to have wynded
But now there deceytes be found.
The chrystiane.
If people be ill
They shall be so still
For ought that ye bring here
Your doctrine is chaff
Your ryme dirty draff
It is vnsauerye gere.
The language of lies
A false harlot tries
To seek a wicked pray.
With colors to carpe
As a rasour sharp
To wype gods truth away.
The papyste.
Let no man be so styffe necked
To think himself so highly in learning decked
Standynge in his own conceit.
For if thou or he be in the wrong
Thou nor he cannot be so strong
But the devil for the hath a beyte.
The chrystiane.
Stande you where ye liest
Ye are a papist
In learning very basse
To cum for refuge
To such a pylde iuge
Is for to seek an asse.
Your minds are so dark
Ye seek but the bark
And therein ye remain.
Ye hold fast the letter
And will have no better
The spyryt ye do dysdayne.
The papyste
Ther were heretykes that never would cease
But from us to take vnyte and peace
So among us they did fight.
In there blyndenes so far gone they were
That of God they had no dought or fere.
All to destruction was there delight.
The chrystiane.
Is there one alive
Which can ye depryue
Of that ye never had▪
Of strife and debate
Sedicion and hate
Your kind was ever glad.
Ye labor and speak
To destroy and break
The vyneyarde of the lord
Of the loss thereof
Ye make a but a scoff
As Isaiah doth record.
The papyste.
Christ willeth us to take good hede
Of these seducers for we had need
To
•
e the scripture and se.
From there followers let us refrain
For small charyte in them remain
As seemeth unto me.
The chrystiane.
Your self is the seed
Of deceitful wede
As your fruits doth report
For less charyte
In men cannot be
Than in your popish sort.
The false crafty spies
Come in with there lies
All men of them beware
They have not there fylle
Tyll they slee and kylle
No innocents they spare.
The papyste.
And a man against them write or speak
Some there be will him cruelly intrete
I marvel they are so bold
Ther was a thing made of late
Some had indignation therate
And openly began to scolde.
The chrystiane.
Whan we find ye bold
In your poperye old
Therof we do ye telle
Your poetes we touche
For shakynge there pouche
And show whereof they smelle.
They follow the devil
Which seek to do evil
And are upon his side.
The proud papists all
With the priests of ball
Do take him for there gyde.
The papyste.
But trewly it shall not a whyt sliylle
Let them bable even there fylle
It is so hot it may not abide.
For an heretic will they defend
By the kings laws justly condemn
And say a christen man he died.
The chrystiane.
Who are more bablars
And frautycke fablars
Than pratlynge papists be ?
We know none heretykes
Nor traiterous scysmatykes
But your affinite.
Nunquid potest homoignē abscōdere in sinue
Of fleshly desire
Where spiritual fathers be▪
With conscience aduste
They burn in there lust
And work moche vanyte.
The papyste.
Some be afraid his confession to show openlie
In prynte the
•
will nat have it verily
The cause ones known.
To his part them selves somewhat bent
Now they fere they shall be shent
Soche gostlye sedes had they sown.
The chrystiane.
Ye give dyrte for flynte
The thing is in prynte
That ye gruge at so sore
It is nat unknown
What sedes ye have sown
In this realm here tofore.
That the wicked dought
Shall light on there snought
Ther church must have a fall.
What God hath not sown
Nor the gospel known
Shall be turned over all.
The papyste.
Woe be to them that fain so outward
And be so pestylent enuyous inward
To a grave may I like them in deed.
That is without set full of goodly stones
Within full of stinking rotten bones
Loke the gospel and tede.
The christiane.
Lyke these, ratte, and mouse
The poor widows house
Your bellies doth devour
Ye suck up the fat
For straynynge a gnatte
In your usurped pour.
Who are the whyght graves
But such romyshe knaves
And painted hypocrites.
As under pretence
Of chaste contynence
Do play the sodomytes.
The papyste.
They that be full of iniquyte
Shall never come in Christ's company
Except they do amende.
God commandeth those people to walk
That against men maliciouslye do talk
And with peace do contend.
The chrystiane.
If Christ do refuse
All such as abuse
The glory of his name
Ye chaplaynes of ball
Must needs have a fall
And come to utter shame
Ye lobbryshe lurkars
And idle workars
Hence fro me, saith the lord
Your own ways ye use
And my laws refuse
Lyke as your fruits record.
The papyste.
Some heretylico of late as I think
Wer loath that there flesh should stynke
Above the erthe or within
They looked ever and hoped for a day
But they were brent all three by the way
And taken in there own gynne.
The christiane.
Attraytours ye wynke
Natfelynge there stynke
So many as hath been
For a day they wrought
Whan ye no less thought
Ye may know what I mene.
In your popish mask
The grande captain ask
Was trapped in his turn
Ye may se by this
What danger it is
Agaynst gods ▪truth to spurn
The papyste.
To speak of good works it were a shame
They loved not to hear of that name
But sola fides and none other
Ther tongues ran so moche upon faith
But there hearts were far thens as Christ saith
Ther lips and hearts were far a sonder
The chrystiane.
They never denied
Soche works as faith tried
But your apyshe fantasyes
Your tunges and your hearts
Paye neither good partes
In your lattyn memoryes.
Your labor of lips
Is so dry as chyppes
God doth it nat esteem.
Ye leave gods precept
To have your own kept
Wherein ye do blaspheme.
The papyste.
If thou wilt take the byble boke
And upon saint James pystle loke
Ther you shall I trow se
How faith is there trewly applied
And good works with him tied
Se how they do agre.
The chrystiane.
Paul only of faith
Of works saint James saith
God doth us iustifye
Before God faith thanne
And works before man
Concludeth this controuersye.
The works that you make
Trew faith do nat wake
For why they are but chaff.
God's word doth diffyne
That ye are but swine
Yefede in s
•
oylle and draff.
The papyste.
If thou wilt a faithful christen man be
Loke thou have faith, hope, and charyte
And do thou good for ill
Let thy mouthe & thy heart be without envy
That pleaseth God & the king let it please the
And his mind fulfill.
The chrystiane.
All one are those three
And never dysgre
Wher faith is roted fast
Our lord God and king
Ye have weighed nothing
Time dominum filimi, & regem
My son of all thing
Fear God and thy king
Thus Solomon doth say.
With achitophell
Ye papists rebel
And all your kings betray.
The papyste.
To speak of holy bread and holy water
I intend not to medle with that mater
But leave it as it is
Let us one for another pray
With good hope as longe as we may
That we may come to heuyns blys
The chrystiane.
Olde hooles do nat cloute
Least ye be spied out
But tarrye yet a time
Heuyn will nat be gote
With your psalms by note
Yt is to high to clyme.
All they hope in vain
That still do remain
In the dregs op popish laws.
Lyue they never so longe
Ther friends here among
They shall die very dawes.
The papyste.
To pray for them that this world hath past
I think surely we may not be agast
Loke the scripture of I lie.
Rede the Maccabees softlye thorough out
And ye shall find it no doubt
If you your dylygencs do apply.
The chrystiane.
Where Christ set no way.
For dead men to pray
It can not them avail
That the Maccabees tell
Shall be no gospel
Where other scriptures fail.
To make any mone
For souls that are gone
It is unfaithfulness
For they fele no rod
In the hands of god
But peace and quyetnes.
The papyste.
I write not this intendynge to preche
Neither taking upon me any mā to teche
My learning is not mete
But because under holy pretente
We should not hyde these heretykes offense
But tread it under our fete.
The christiane.
Ye utter such trashe
And pylde haberdashe
As lay longe in your mind
But loke ye still hyde
All treason and pride
Of your old popish kind.
All ways of the just
The lord hath discuste
The priests dwell in there dreams
In there donge they lie
Lyke boores in a stye
For mud they leave the streams.
The papiste.
They that think that barns was holy
In there brains there is great folly
Iuge other men what they can
Surely he was by him self alone
To contend with him duest not one
He was so proper a man.
The christiane.
As Paul doth record
We are of the lord
To him we stand or fall
Take hede least ye swerve
For he doth reserve
Ryght iugement for ye all
Ye wicked papists
In your drowsye mystes
Abhor the simple sort
Ye do not regard
God's word to be hard
But give it ill report.
The papyste.
But if the devil were here and brent
Some would him pyteously lament
In there hearts they be so kind
Hys confession should be kept as treasure
And with some believed above measure
They are now so blind.
The christiane.
If they take his part
That scripture peruart
Stande you among his friends.
A dirty believe
To the blind ye give
To recreate there minds
Your faith is so weak
No truth can ye speak
But hate all godly ways
Ye rob Christ's flock
And give them a mock
In all your iuglynge plays.
The papyste,
All ill thoughts in our hearts let us eschew
And like true subjects to our prince cōtynue
We shall find it ease.
To his pleasure let us inclyne
And not against his acts to repyne
So God we shall please.
The chrystiane.
The false fox that gawde
Doth compass some frawde
By his false statterynge toys
Dyslemblars untrue
Many princes rewe
Amonge these worldly Ioyes
Who doth a king hate?
But papists that prate
Agaynst all godliness
Bellys dirty dyuynes
With there concubynes
Hath wrought all fylthynes.
The papyste.
Ther is not in the world so wyde
Set this little lande aside
That hath so noble and gentle a king.
Wherefore let us all in one pray
Even to God both night and day
That longe may he over vo be
•
aygnynge.
The chrystiane.
God save christen kings
From your practisynges
For myschef ye intend
Erom haters of truth
Good seldom enseuth
Our prince the lord defend
Happy is that soil
Wher christen men toil
Under a faithful king
Where prestys do remain
And scripture dysdayne
It is an heuy thing.
Finis.
The appendyce or conclusyon.
NO bussarde so blind
But now sperueth his mind
Now cometh hagge and tagge
And shaketh out there bag
They turn out there trashe
And show there haberdashe
Ther pylde pedlarye
And scalde scullerye.
Our old romyshe ruste
Leapeth out of the dust
With a cankered face
All void of gods grace
Thynkynge ones again
In England to reyne
And be had in price
To maintain all vice.
Ser Johan now is bold
In yche place to scolde
Where men do not care
For pylde popish ware
He doth them accuse
And say they refuse
The laws of the lord
Bryngynge false record
They have a new caste
The scriptures to wraste
And wrynge out of frame
To there utter shame
From truth they do swerve
Ther purpose to serve
And care not for god
Nor his ryghtfull rod.
Lord pyte thy flock
Whome now the prestys mock
Sturre up princes hearts
To stand on there partes
Least papists have pour
Thy lammes to deuowre
Whome upon the rood
Thou boutest with thy blood.
Amen.
God save the king.