Wylt thou heuyn compare with his paynfull lyfe There on to thynke thou art vnwyse certayne There is concorde, here is no thynge but stryfe There is all rest, and here is care and payne There is true loue: here is scorne and disdayne There is all goodnes, here all yll and offence Nowe chuse the best: here is great difference * * * * * Of them that make noyses rehersynges of talys and do other thynges vnlaufull and dishonest in y^e chirche of god. [Illustration: A fole is he, and hath no mynde deuoute And gyueth occasyon to men on hym to rayle. Whiche goth in the chirche, his houndes hym aboute Some rennynge, some fast tyed to his tayle A hawke on his fyst suche one withouten fayle Better were to be thens, for by his dyn and cry He troublyth them that wolde pray deuoutly:] Yet of mo folys fynde I a great nomber Whiche thynke that it is no shame nor vylany Within the chirche, the seruyce to encomber With theyr lewde barkynge roundynge dyn and cry And whyle good people ar praynge stedfastly Theyr herte to good, with meke mynde and deuout Suche folys them let, with theyr mad noyse and shout And whyle the prestis also them exercyse. In matyns masse sermon or prechynge dyuyne Or other due thynges that longe to theyr seruyce. Techynge the people to vertue to enclyne Than these folys as it were rorynge swyne With theyr gettynge and talys of vycyousnes Trouble all suche seruyce, that is sayd, more and les In to the churche than comys another sote Without deuocyon gettynge vp and downe Or to be sene, and to showe his gardyd cote Another on his fyst a Sparhauke or fawcon Or els a Cokow, and so wastynge his shone Before the auters he to and fro doth wander With euyn as great deuocyon as a gander In comys another his houndes at his tayle With lynes and leshes and other lyke baggage. His dogges barkyth, so that withouten fayle The hole churche is troubled by theyr outrage So innocent youth lernyth the same of age And theyr lewde sounde doth the churche fyll. But in this noyse the good people kepe them styll. One tyme the hawkys bellys Jenglyth hye Another tyme they flutter with theyr wynges And nowe the houndes barkynge strykes the skye Nowe sounde theyr fete, and nowe the chaynes rynges They clap with theyr handes, by suche maner thynges They make of the churche, for theyr hawkes a mewe And Canell to theyr dogges, whiche they shall after rewe So with suche folys is neyther peas nor rest Unto the holy churche they haue no reuerence But wander about to see who get may best In rybawde wordes pryde and insolence As mad men they fere nat our sauyours presence Hauynge no honour vnto that holy place Wherin is gyuen to man euerlastynge grace