Thou vnkynde Sparta: of thy audacyte What shall I wryte or thy lewde vnkyndnes Hast thou nat banysshed by thy cruelte Thy kynge Lycurgus, bycause he dyd redres Thy wanton errours by lawe and rightwysnes And Scipio whiche his country dyd defende Fonde it to hym, vnkynde at the last ende A thousande mo whome I can nat expresse To suche as haue for them abyde great payne Haue done displeasour, and shewed vnkyndnes And them disceyued by some cautele or trayne Yet none of them great goodnes cowde obtayne By theyr vnkyndnes for who that so doth cast Vnkyndly shall be seruyd at the last. THENUOY OF BARKLAY. O fals vnkyndnes out on the I cry From all goodnes dost thou nat man withdrawe Byndynge his herte to gyle and vylany Agaynst nature, agaynst both right and lawe Thou makest man his maker nat to knawe Therfore thou man expell out from thy mynde This vyce, for we fynde in an olde sayde sawe Wo is hym that to his maker is vnkynde. Remember man the great preemynence Gyuen unto the by good omnypotent Bytwene the and Angels is lytell difference And all thynge erthly to the obedyent Fysshe byrde and beste vnder the fyrmament Say what excuse mayst thou nowe lay or fynde Syns thou art made by god so excellent But that thou oughtest agayne to hym be kynde. God hath the made vnto his owne lykenes No erthly creature vnto the comparable Thy iyen vpwarde to consyder his hyghnes Where other creatures that ar vnresonable Goeth on all foure and ar nat other able. Theyr loke alway vnto the grounde inclynyd Therfore thou ought in vertue to be stable And to thy maker neuer to be vnkynde Whan man offendyd by disobedyence Subduynge hym self to labour care and payne And lost the consort of goodes hye presence Hath nat christ Jhesu redemyd hym agayne Besyde all this thou hast no thynge certayne In erth but by hym. wherfore I call the blynde And of thy maners vncurtayse and vylayne If to thy sauyour thou be nat true and kynde Thoughe god hath made the (man) thus excellent To lyue (if thou lyst) in ioy eternally A lytell thynge shall hym agayne content He nought requyreth but thy herte onely And that thou defy thy gostly ennemy And in goddes seruyce thy herte and body bynde. Than shall he rewarde the in heuen right gloriously So mayst thou be callyd vnto thy maker kynde * * * * * Of folys that stande so well in their owne conceyt that they thinke none so wyse, stronge, fayre, nor eloquent, as they ar themself. [Illustration: We haue ouercome the malyce and enuy Of suche as agaynst our Nauy did conspyre Wherfore I shall my folys call quyckly That they my Shyp may aparayle and atyre Drawe nere ye Folys whiche syttynge by the fyre Loke ay in a glasse to se your countenaunce And in your owne dedis haue all your hole pleasaunce]