In lykewyse now the same Cardynall is promoted, Yet with lewde condicyons cotyd,[189] As herafter ben notyd, 570 Presumcyon and vayne glory, Enuy, wrath, and lechery, Couetys and glotony, Slouthfull to do good, Now frantick, now starke wode. Shulde this man of suche mode Rule the swerde of myght, How can he do ryght? For he wyll as sone smyght His frende as his fo; 580 A prouerbe longe ago. Set vp a wretche on hye In a trone triumphantlye, Make him a great astate, And he wyll play checke mate With ryall[190] maieste, Counte him selfe as good as he; A prelate potencyall, To rule vnder Bellyall, As ferce and as cruell 590 As the fynd of hell. His seruauntes menyall He dothe reuyle, and brall, Lyke Mahounde in a play; No man dare him withsay: He hath dispyght and scorne At them that be well borne; He rebukes them and rayles, Ye horsons, ye vassayles, Ye knaues, ye churles sonnys, 600 Ye rebads, nat[191] worth two plummis, Ye raynbetyn beggers reiagged, Ye recrayed ruffyns all ragged! With, stowpe, thou hauell, Rynne, thou iauell! Thou peuysshe pye pecked, Thou losell longe necked! Thus dayly they be decked, Taunted and checked, That they ar so wo, 610 They wot not whether to go. No man dare come to the speche Of this gentell Iacke breche, Of what estate he be, Of spirituall dygnyte, Nor duke of hye degre, Nor marques, erle, nor lorde; Whiche shrewdly doth accorde, Thus he borne so base All noble men shulde out face, 620 His countynaunce lyke a kayser. My lorde is nat[192] at layser; Syr, ye must tary a stounde, Tyll better layser be founde; And, syr, ye must daunce attendaunce, And take pacient sufferaunce, For my lordes grace Hath nowe no tyme nor space To speke with you as yet. And thus they shall syt, 630 Chuse them syt or flyt, Stande, walke, or ryde, And his layser abyde Parchaunce halfe a yere, And yet neuer the nere. This daungerous dowsypere, Lyke a kynges pere; And within this xvi. yere He wolde haue ben ryght fayne To haue ben a chapleyne, 640 And haue taken ryght gret payne With a poore knyght, What soeuer he hyght. The chefe of his owne counsell, They can nat[193] well tell Whan they with hym shulde mell, He is so fyers and fell; He rayles and he ratis, He calleth them doddypatis; He grynnes and he gapis, 650 As it were iack napis. Suche a madde bedleme For to rewle this reame,[194] It is a wonders[195] case: That the kynges grace Is toward him so mynded,