They ron to our shyp, eche one doth greatly fere Lyst his slacke paas, sholde cause hym byde behynde The wynde ryseth, and is lyke the sayle to tere Eche one enforseth the anker vp to wynde The se swellyth by planettes well I fynde These obscure clowdes threteneth vs tempest All are nat in bed whiche shall haue yll rest We are full lade and yet forsoth I thynke A thousand are behynde, whom we may not receyue For if we do, our nauy clene shall synke He oft all lesys that coueytes all to haue From London Rockes almyghty god vs saue For if we there anker, outher bote or barge There be so many that they vs wyll ouercharge Ye London Galantes, arere, ye shall nat enter We kepe the streme, and touche nat the shore In Cyte nor in Court we dare nat well auenter Lyst perchaunce we sholde displeasure haue therfore But if ye wyll nedes some shall haue an ore And all the remenaunt shall stande afar at large And rede theyr fautes paynted aboute our barge. Lyke as a myrrour doth represent agayne The fourme and fygure of mannes countenaunce So in our shyp shall he se wrytyn playne The fourme and fygure of his mysgouernaunce What man is fautles, but outher ignoraunce Or els wylfulnes causeth hym offende: Than let hym nat disdayne this shyp, tyll he amende. And certaynly I thynke that no creature Lyuynge in this lyfe mortall in transytory Can hym self kepe and stedfastly endure Without all spot, as worthy eternall glory But if he call to his mynde and memory Fully the dedys both of his youthe and age He wyll graunt in this shyp to kepe some stage But who so euer wyll knowlege his owne foly And it repent, lyuynge after in sympylnesse Shall haue no place nor rowme more in our nauy But become felawe to pallas the goddesse But he that fyxed is in suche a blyndnesse That thoughe he be nought he thynketh al is well Suche shall in this Barge bere a babyll and a bell These with other lyke may eche man se and rede Eche by themselfe in this small boke ouerall The fautes shall he fynde if he take good hede Of all estatis as degres temporall With gyders of dignytees spirituall Bothe pore and riche, Chorles and Cytezyns For hast to lepe a borde many bruse theyr shynnys Here is berdles youth, and here is crokyd age Children with theyr faders that yll do them insygne And doth nat intende theyr wantones to swage Nouther by worde nor yet by discyplyne Here be men of euery science and doctryne Lerned and vnlerned man mayde chylde and wyfe May here se and rede the lewdenes of theyr lyfe. Here ar vyle wymen: whome loue Immoderate And lust Venereall bryngeth to hurt and shame. Here ar prodigal Galantes: wyth mouers of debate. And thousandes mo: whome I nat wel dare name. Here ar Bacbyters whiche goode lyuers dyffame. Brakers of wedlocke, men proude: and couetous: Pollers, and pykers with folke delicious.