A free admonition without any fees / To warne the Papistes to beware of three trees.

IF that you be not past all grace,
O Papystes heare mee speake,
Let reason rule, and truth take place,
Crase you from that you seeke.
Can you God or his woord deface?
Can you the truth wythstand?
Can you our noble Queene displace,
And yet lyue in England?
Take heede beware the Deuyll is a knaue
He wyl you sure begile:
Incruelty he would you haue
To scrue hym here awhile.
Wyth lying and hipocrisy,
His kyngdome to mayntayne:
Contemning truth and equity,
This is hys subtile trayne.
Let cursed Cain example be,
That slew Abel his brother:
Whom neither God with Maiesty,
Could moue to leaue his murder
Nor yet the godly lyfe of hym,
That gaue hym none offence,
Tyll he had heaped vp hys synne,
In practesyng his pretence.
Let Core and Dathan come frō hell
Where now they do remayne,
That they their minds at lēgth maitel
Wherfore they ther remain.
Namely, for that they did rebel,
And would not be perswaded,
But would be Lordes in Israel,
Tyll hel had them deuoured.
What could make Absalon meeke & tame
And to desist from rage?
His father Dauids worthy fame,
Or yet his counsel sage?
No, no, these things wil not preuail
With hym that feares not God,
The force of doctrine ther doth fail,
Tyl God strike with his rod.
And as the Deuil in these did rage,
To worke his wycked wyll,
That nothyng coulde theyr furye swage
Tyl they did it fuifyl.
So that the law of God and Man,
They sought to ouerthrow,
Euen so of late I truly can
The lyke vnto you show.
When Kyng Edward of worthy fame
Had Antichrist put downe,
And to the glory of Gods name,
Had placed truth in her roome:
The denshire dolts like Rebels ranck,
In rusty armour ranged,
But hangd wer som, their cariōs stāck,
The world was quickly changed.
And then dyd Ket the tanner stout
In Norffolke play his part,
Assemblyng such his Rebels rout,
That Innocents might smart.
But hanged he was, this was his end,
And so ende all the sort,
That Rebels are, and wyll not mend,
A rope be their comfort.
Such blessings as the Nortons had,
And such as Felton found,
God send them all that are so bad
Wyth heeles to blesse the ground.
If that you lyke not for to haue,
This blessyng in a rope,
Leaue of you Rebels for to raue
And cursse your Dad the Pope.
Which makes you oft such Crowes to pul
Then leaues you in the mire,
In sending you to such a Bull,
This is but symple hire.
Behold the end of thys attempt
That last here was begun,
Loe God your doyng doth preuent,
The Rebels race to run.
Synce God by grace doth guyde hys flock
That none can them anoy,
If you be grafted in this stocke,
He wyl you not destroy.
Feare God, flee syn, the truth embrace,
And seeke your Prince to please,
Obey the lawes and call for grace,
So shall you lyue at peace.
God saue our Queene Elizabeth.
ꝙ G. B.

¶ Imprinted at Londō by Iohn Awdely, for Henry Kirkham, dwelling at the mid­dle North doore of Paules, at the signe of the blacke Boy. The. xy. of December. 1571.

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