A Skeltonicall salutation, or condigne gratulation, and iust vexation of the Spanishe nation that in a bravado, spent many a crusado, in setting forth an armado England to invado.

A SKELTONICAL salutation.

O KING of Spaine Is it not a paine To thy heart and braine, And every vaine, To see thy traine For to sustaine Withouten game The worldes disdaine, Which doth dispise As toies and lies, With shoutes and cries Thy enterprise, As fitter for pies, And butter-flies, Then men so wise: O waspish King, Whers now thy sting, Thy dart, or sling, Or strong bow-string, That should vs wring, And vnderbring, Who every way, Thee vexe and pay, And beare the sway By night and day, To thy dismay, In battle aray, And every fray: O pufte with pride, What foolishe guide Made thee provide To over-ride This lande so wide From side to side,

And then vntride, Away to slide, And not to abide, But all in a ring Away to fling: O conquering, O vanquishing With fast flying, And no replying, For feare of frying! So hurt vs stil, As oft as you wil, So fight your fil, So shew your skil, So sincke vs, and sacke vs, So burne vs, and wracke vs, So cleaue vs, and cracke vs. And rent vs, and racke vs, Or if you wil remaine In Castile, or Spaine, And not venture againe, Our force to restraine, If you so it please, You shal take your ease, To cure your disease, You haue got by the scas. And though we be poore, We wil come to your shore, And knocke at your dore, As oft heretofore. And spare you the cost, Which of late you haue lost, When as you were tost, From piller to post, To your smal best. And cast on the sands, And many Ilandes,

Into your enemies hands, And many a rocke, With many a knocke, For a laughing stocke, And a ieu, and a mocke. But who but Philippus, That seeketh to nip vs, To rob vs, and strip vs, And then for to whip vs, Would ever haue ment, Or had entent, Or hither sent, Such ships of charge, So strong and so large. Nay the worst barge, Trusting to treason, And not to reason, Which at that season, To him was geson, As doth appeare, Both plaine and cleare, To far and neere, To his confusion, By this conclusion, Which thus is framed, And must bee named Argumentum à minore, Cum horrore & timore. If one Drake o, One poore snake o, Make vs shake o, Tremble and quake o, Were it not trow yee, A madnes for me, To vndertake, A warre to make, With such a lande,

That is so mande, Wherein there be Of certainty, As hungrie as he Many a thousand more, That long full sore For Indian golde, Which make men bolde? But you were blinde, As now you finde, Till in your kinde You haue well tasted Howe you are wasted, With all your bragges, Gennets, and nagges, And mony bagges: Whereof the most The Irish cost, As a good host, Doth now possesse, With thankefulnesse, And can no lesse, Than the time blesse, That you set out, And came about, With all your route, So proude and stoute. But wo to the heart, That feeling smart, For iust desart, Groweth worse and worse, And God doth curse, And cannot repent, But keepeth entent, Come sixe, or seven, Come hell, or heaven, To vndertake,

With al he can make, A new invasion, At the Popes perswasion. But Spaniard proud, The Lorde hath voude He will defend, Vnto the end, His Church and sheepe, That his law keepe. Wherefore to be short, I thee exhort, For thine owne comfort, If witte thou haue, Thincke him a knaue, That doth advise Such an enterprise: For in this cause, Our Faith and Lawes, We will sell our liues, Our landes, and wiues, Too deere for thee, When soever it be, And ere it be long, Make thee sing a song, Of O si scivtssem, Me continuissem, Et non fecissem. But now Pope blisse him, And Mydas kisse him, And so I dismisse him, To his good Physition, Master Inquisition, By whose disposition, He taketh the diet, That will him disquiet, And turne vp-side downe, (Which woulde make a man frowne)

Both kingdome, and crowne, And fame and renowne, And so sirs valete, Et vobis cavete, A medicis ignaris, Chirurgis avaris, Meretrice Romana, Insulsa, & insana, Et factione Guisiana. Except you be so expert, That you can convert, At your own pleasure, Which were a great treasure, The Lutheran seas, Which doe you displease, To be of your faction, And ioine in your action. Or some way can finde, To master the winde, Or else so to binde, That it be to your minde, And then regnate, Et praegaudio cacate, Per omnia monasteria monachorum.