GOod newes to England. Olde Martin the Marre-all is dead and buried. Hee telleth you the tale that knoweth it to bee true. I pray GOD neuer worse newes come either to Court, or Countrie, and all good people say, Amen.

You long (I know) to heare the cause, and manner of his death, whose life and doings were so infamous; and many (I doubt not) will thinke, (and probablie too) that it should bee in reason some strange, and violent death, that is befalne him; that was so monstrous and immoderate in all his proceedings; and that either in the fire, water, or ayre, that so troubled the earth while he liued vpon it. The verie truth I will tell you (for pitie it were to belie the dead) from point to point, without altering so much as a pinnes point, as neere as my memoric will giue me leaue, and therefore listen.

Many are the reports scattered abroad of both,Sundrie reports of Martins death. (as commonly in such great accidents is accustomed) and all false. Some say hee was taken by the Spaniards, and burnt in the Groyne, and they that report so, say that hee brought the cause thereof from hence with him, not for religion, but some other causes that now I omit. Some, that he was hanged by his owne companie at Lisbone for a mut • nie, which was verie likelie to haue been true also, that euer was giuen to factions and mutinies, while he liued here. Some, that comming thence, hauing before ouerdronke himselfe with the hot wines of those Countries (which he could not but loue wel, being so seldome sober for the most part as he was) he died of a surfet, and was throwne ouer boord, & so was double drowned both within and without. Some, that riding in his visitation his horse stumbled, and he brake his necke which other some say, was in some other sort, as that hee wandring to that purpose in the manner of a Gipson, for that he would not bee knowne, was taken, and trust vp for a roge, and that onelie knowne to his companions. Indeede, I denie not, anie one of these happes were likelie enough to haue befalne him, and not without his iust deserts: and most men say, it was well enough, which way soeuer of these hee ended, and worse (if worse might bee). Howbeit, it was not that so well, as they do ween for, (being perhappes reserued for his two sonnes hereafter) but neither better nor worse than I will tell you.

Martin Iunior his sonne, who knoweth the truth as no man better, yet loath to haue it published, for that it toucheth his, and his friends credite verie neerelie; seeketh to shadowe it, with other some-saies: and that you may knowe him to be no bastard, (though perhappes yet base begotten, for euen at this Age he doubteth who was his Father, Martin Iu. in conclus. and therefore must we take him to bee terrae filius) not so much as one word true.

Some saie (quoth he) that he died at the Groyne in seruice of her Maiestie and his Countrie. Martin Senior in censur. But what saith Martin Senior his sonne and heire, and this mans brother to that? He die at the Groyne: nay heele be hanged, erthe die there. Loe Martin Iunior, your bigger brother (besides the reuerend remembrance of his, deare Father) giues ye the flat lie; for that he died not there. And no maruaile. For he neuer liued in the seruice of her Maiestie, and therefore who wil beleeue he died in it? He neuer carried so good a mind to his Prince and Countrie, faithfullie to fight for it, that would so spitefullie write against it, and seeke so wickedlie to vndermine it; whose ouerthrowe he sought (in his kinde) at home as hotlie, with his shot of inke & paper, as the master of the Groyne did abroad, with his of powder and pellet. And therefore say no more so (Petrie Martin) no man will beleeue it: neither haue Those others (you talke of,Martin Iu. in Thes. in the conclus. (The man in the moone belike, and the carter of Charles waine) any iust Motiues, inducing them to be of that minde. Indeed there died many an honester man, and much more profitable members of the Common wealth (the greater though our griefe yet their glorie that valiantlie triumphed ouer their cowardlie enemies, and constantly rendred their liues in their Princes & countries seruice, which none of you all will euer either liue or dye in); and if Martin your father & you two Martins his sonnes, and your mates, had excused them; it had been a great good turne, both for the Prince and countrie; especiallie there, where one trouble State might haue plaied vpon another, and so a good riddance made of both together.

After this, as knowing himselfe how ridiculous a suppose that is he requireth in scorne, of his N • nkaes the BB. (see how like the old Ape this young Munkey pattereth) whether they haue not el • selie Martin Iu. in Thes. murdered the Gentleman in some of their Prisons and strangled him) knowing him to haue kept himselfe farre enough from their fingers, as these youthes themselues minding to be neither valiant Martins (though they like lustie Martins talke so much of venturing their liues in the quarrel, & vaunt them selues to bee the best subiects of the Realme, nor constant confessors, though they bragge so much of the goodnes of their cause, which they gloriouslie guild with the fl •• nting phrase of Sinceritie, and damme others to the deepe pit of hell for not aduancing it) doo, and wil doo, I warrant them, (and they be not caught in the snatch against their will) for feare of a Lambathisme; Martin dares • not land in his likenes at La • beth staiers. which of all things in the world they cannot abide.

Howbeit pretie youth, I must needes confesse the Tippet you talke of (as il as he loues them) was verie due vnto thē, (though a much meaner man, than any of those might haue fitted his neck withall) and you his sonne & your faire brother withall, as good a gentleman as he, may liue to enioy it, and that as your right by course of lawe, being a portion of the inheritance, that your father l • ft vnto you. But it seemeth your father was not borne vnto it, for that he died not possessed of it (the more is the pitie) but purchased it since, belike by his owne penie.

Or haue you not giuen him (quoth Martin the Medium) an Italian figge? n • no Matt. Martin Iu. in Thes. That's a Machiuillian tricke; and some of your mates are better acquainted with it.Martin might die of figges but not of reasons. Marie for al sorts of Figges I will not sweare, let them enquire it; for Martin was a great surfeter.

Or haue you not choaked him with a fat Prebend or two? His sonnes may be choked with le • cost. Much les good Sir, that were a death for an honest man; neither is there any one of all your crue, that would not be glad to die that death: but it will not be, except you will be enstald in a hempen whood, (for you loue neither silke nor miniuer) and of that condition (yong Martin) I dare assure thee foure; and thy elder brother (as reason is) double the number, for double fee • .

But to leaue thy flim flam tales, and loytering lies (that canst doo no other if a man should hang thee) the trueth is this; which my little Martin knoweth as well as I, and you that are old Martins friends, report it of my word; for it is as true as steele.

After that old Martin, The true manner of old Martins death. hauing taken a most desperate cause in hand, as the troubling of the State, and ouerthrowe of the Church, (both which attempts at once, Alexander the Copper Smith, that did Paule so much harme, would neuer haue aduentured; nor Herostratus, that burned Dianas temple, by many degrees came neere vnto) and being therfore (and well worthie) sundrie waies verie curstlie handled; as first drie beaten, T. C. & therby his bones broken,A whip for an Ape. then whipt that made him winse, then wormd and launced, that he tooke verie grieuouslie,The Theater. to be made a Maygame vpon the Stage, and so bangd, both with prose and rime on euerie side, as he knewe not which way to turne himselfe, and at length cleane Marde: Marre-martin. the griefe whereof vext him out of all crie; and that if he were taken, it was to be feared he should be made a Bishop (of the fields) which name he neuer loued, and to weare a tippet, that he euer detested: but especiallie being drawne so drie (so as he could say no more,)Martin Iu. in conclus. wherby his radicall moisture began to faile him, and his vitall powers in such sort to decaie, as he saw that he could not long continue; but especiallie, that his labours being so great, tooke none effect, but was termed, by some a Vice, by some a Viper, This Period Martin is long, but it containeth great store of necessarie matter, and therefore you must beare with it. by some a Scismatique, by some a Traitor; and that euerie stage Plaier made a iest of him, and put him cleane out of countenance, yea his owne familiars disdained to acknowledge him, and so had both frends and foes, both good & bad, euen the whole realme (saue a fewe of his faction) that cried out shame vpon him (hauing besides of olde as manie diseases as an horse both HH's and PPé's that had time out of minde possest him, albeit he bare it out long with a lustie courage): the old gentleman began at the length, (being discouraged in his courses) to droope (as sorowe and shame tameth both man and beast) and to mislike himselfe (for he termeth himselfe vnwise, Martin Iu. in Thes, In the Proeme. that is to say, a Noddie for medling with it) and through meere mellanchollie fell into a feauer (lurdaine) whereby hee grewe so costiue,In conclus. Martin costiue. as nothing came from him in three or foure moneths space. And so hauing taken his bedde, he fent for his Phisitions, (whereof hee had some choyce) that knewe verie well the constitution of his bodie, (though not so fit to see into a water) who albeit at the first touch of the pulse,Martins Phisitions. that went verie disordredly, perceiued that he was past cure: yet loath to loose so profitable a member to their commensing common wealth, they ministred to him a potion,Martin Iu. in concl. No such pilles as Praehends. (for pilles he could swallow downe none) whereby (as it falleth out with such as are long bound) he voyded certaine vncertaine and imperfect Articles for a farewell to Booke making: Ibidem. but afterwards when they perceiued that the force therof wrought so stronglie vpon him, as that it purged away all the conscience, wit, and honestie he had; and that Purgarentur ea, Ibidem. quae purgari non oportuit (a deadlie signe, grounded vponan vndoubted maxime of their Phisick) they came vnto him, & with teares in their eyes, told him that there was no way with him but one; and therefore wisht him to set his worldlie affaires in order,The 〈◊〉 resolution of Martins death. that no controuersie might growe amongst his, after he was gone.

Wherewith Martin, Martins answere to the Phisitions. fetching a deepe sigh: Nay (quoth he) do what I will, I may not hope for that, vnlikelie it is, that I should make peace after my death, that did naught els but make bate while I was aliue. And withall, calling his sonnes (these two scapethrifts to him, who like a couple of good and vertuous Babes stood grinning all the while, as glad they should enioye their fathers Patrimonie, and bee chiefe Martins themselues) and wringing the elder by the hande, with another great sigh, said to them as followeth.

Oh my sonnes: I see my doings, Martins oratiō at his death to his two sonnes. and my course misliked of many, both the good, and the bad; though also I haue fauourers of both sorts) marie verie fewe of the good indeede). The Bishops and their traine, Martin Iu. in Thes. In the Proëme. though they stumble at the cause; yet especially mislike my manner of writing. Those whom foolishly men call Puritanes, like the matter I haue handled; but the forme they cannot brooke: His fathers own words. so that herein, I haue them both for mine aduersaries. And vnwise I was, I confesse, to vndertake the matter. And not onelie that, but (which much more grieueth mee) I perceiue that euerie stage plaier,The causes of old Martins sicknes, sorow and shame. if he play the foole but two houres together, hath somewhat for his labour: and I that haue taken as great paines, as the veriest foole of them, haue trauailed with my toyes, now these two yeares, and gained nothing, saue that I haue gotten many thousand eye witnesses of my witles and pitifull conceites, Martin Iu. in conclus. Martin Senior in worke for C. and ameuerie where noted for an ignominious foole and dig • ised Asse.

I had thought that my works sauced with those i • sts would haue had both speedier accesse to the greater States, The great states beholding to Mar. that think their graue heads cannot be mooued to weightie matters but by iests. and better successe with the common people; for the humors of men in these daies, especiallie those that are in any place are giuen thereto. But sure I was deceiued: The one, are wise, and like of no such fooleries: & the other, now wearie of our stale mi • th, that for a penie, may haue farre better by oddes at the Theater and Curtaine, and any blind playing house euerie day.

These things with other which I wil keepe to my selfe, that more neerely touch my conceite (for my conscience alas is purged and gone) to tell you the plaine trueth, haue broken my heart, and I am now no man of this world: which I must tell you in counsell, I take in good part, for that in verie deed,Martin feared a shrewd turne. I feared a worse turne: that if you my sonnes take not the better heed, may happe befall you.

And though I can scarse speake any more: yet will I straine my selfe, to vse a fewe words vnto you (for that none but you & our friends be here) which receiue from me with good regard, as you tender the stuffing of your doublet coller, being your fathers last farewel; that may doo you good, if you haue the wit, or grace (which I much doubt) to marke them well.

Three things there are (my sonnes) that were my bane,Three causes of Martins death. and whereby (which grieueth me most of al) I did greatest hurt to the cause I vndertooke, and most grieuouslie offended, both God, and the world.

The first was my foolerie; 1 Foolerie. vnfit (in truth) for the matter I handled. For though I knowe iesting is lawfull e • en in the greatest matters, Martin Senior in work for C. and that the Lord is she author both of mirth and grauitie, yet after that some of our companions, had dealt sagelie in the cause, and gained good credite with some of some sort; in lept I (like a woodcocke I must confesse). with twatling tales,Martin Senior in his Pistle and worke for C. and Epitome. of Sir Iefries Aletub; and of Ganmer Gurtons needle; and of beefe and brues; and rubbing of boules; and cus • ins, and liuerie coates; and leadeu shooing hornes, and woodden daggers, and • xecombes, and such like tr • mperies: with my fond phrases of parsous, Fukars, and Currats, Confocation house, Paltripolitanes: so, ho, how, h • : h • : Tse, Tse, Tse:The quintescence of Martins wit. whoop and hall • we: fleering, leering, ieeringe and such paltrie peering (that I am now ashamed to talke of) in my Epistle: and in my worke for Cooper, Py, hy, be, hold my cloake some bodie: I wil so bumseage him; and the foolish tales of the King of M • ie at H •• ct •• de; and the boy with the red cappe there: and such other twittle twattles; that indeede I had learned in Alehouses, and at the Theater of Lanam and his fellowes; and in one houre ouerthrewe, what the wiser sort had been working, and with heaue and shooue, had reared vp and set on end, many yeares before.Martin mard all with his foolerie. And therefore my sonnes beware of that. The woodden dagger may not bee worne at the backe, where S. Paules fword, hangs by the side: neither can he well finde fault with the corner cap; that weareth the furd night cappe on his head,Martins wardrop, a woodden dagger & furd night cap. as I did. These gambols (my sonnes) are implements for the Stage, and beseeme Iesters, and Plaiers, but are not fit for Church plotters, nor common wealth casters, such as wee are: which I must now confesse was one my foule errors. And therefore (my good sonnes) auoide it, as you tender the seruice you haue in hand; and hope one day, to sit alost in your long wished for Consistorie, amongst your lay Lordings, which your father hath lost for euer, through his foolerie.

The next meanes of my miserie, was my Ribaudrie. 2 Ribaudrie. An homelie terme (speciallie of my selfe) but it is now no time to dissemble; and I wil conceale nothing, that may tend to your instruction; whom I would faine bring to some wit & grace, if it might be, which I could neuer yet doo. And herein I must confesse, I called them, Asses andOld Martin throughout all his workes. Dunces; that I knewe farre better schollers than my selfe. I noted small faults in them, as bowling, and by my faith,Martin Sen. in his Pistle. and such other trifles: and knew farre greater in my selfe, and my purest brethren. Wherein, my part (I confesse) had been, first priuatelie to haue warned them: whereas now, I haue both broken the rule of the Gospell, and giuen the enemies cause to speake eurill of the Gospell, which I cannot denic, they soundly preach. I haue most intemperatly, raised against them, with most shamefull and vnseemelie termes,The flowre of Martins sweet phrases. as Swinish, and Antichristian rable, proude, popish, presumptuous, prophane, paltri • , pestilent, and pernicious Prelates, wainscot faces, Doltes, Asses, Beastes, Patches, knaues, kaitiues, lewd swagges, ambicious wretches, and many other like most filthie phrases, which now grie, ueth me to the very heart to thinke of, fitter (I confesse) for Bedlem, than for our pretended puritie. Wherein,Martin now seeth himselfe in his owne • lasse. I haue not spared (the more knaue I) (and with that he strake himselfe on the breast) such as her Maiestie hath made speciall choise of, for her Counsell; whereby also, I hindered our cause more at that time, than I did foresee: and therein to be plaine, I shewed my selfe the greatest Asse of all.A Macheuillein tricke of the Martinists yet in practise. Againe (which worse was) manie of them I slandered against mine owne knowledge; & thought it enough, if I might but deuise against them the vilest things of the world, to bring them in hatred with the credulous multitude: (a di • ellish tricke, my sonnes, which I learned in Machiuell,Old Martin in his 〈◊〉 &c. but take heede of it for it asketh vengeance). As some to be Papists, whom I knew to be sound Protestants: some to fauour the Spaniards, who I knewe detested them: Some to bee traitors, who my conscience tolde me were good subiects: yea (if I should speake the truth and shame the diuell) farre better than my selfe: whereby what I lost, you may consider of; but gained naught els, saue that, which commonlie liers doo; which was, when I spake the trueth, no man would beleeue me, no not the veriest kennell raker, nor vilest rascall that was in a countrie, except hee were of our crue;The greatest part of Martins thousands are such. of which sort indeede, wee haue no small store. But sonnes, let these fewe words serue herein: for I am wearie of this rehearsall, that hath been the verie knife to cut my throte: and therefore (and you bee wise) see that no such sharpe stuffe, doo passe your weesell. And the best (when all is done) is to mend our selues; Martin Iu. in Thes. In the prome old Martins owne words. that the Lord knoweth haue the greatest need thereof, euen of all others, the best of vs, be they neuer so bad.

The third, and last meanes that hath brought me to my last end, was worst of all; and that was (woe is mee therefore) my Blasphemie. Blasphemie. For beeing once entered into the vicelike vaine of foolerie; and making no respect of men: I was caried most wickedlie, like a wretch as I was, in a scorne against the saincts: of GOD, the Scripture of GOD, and GOD himselfe. I called mine owne mates, Sainsts; and his Saincts Sirs: wherein I spared,In his holie Pistle. neither Dauid, nor Peter, nor Paule, no nor the blessed mother of Christ her selfe: oh vile varlet that I was, (and therewith he whimpered and put finger in the eye, which was some signe of grace) whom the spirit of God himselfe said,Martin mocks the Saincts. speaking within her, that all generations should still call blessed. Preserreth his owne Saincts. For she is blessed, and a glorious Sainct: and I a shamefull wretch, and most miserable miscreant. Yea the Scriptures themselues, I made a mocke of:Iesteth with the Scriptures. for to a text of S. Peter, I tacked on a blind iest, of the Bishop of Rochesters benefice: and made a fooles motley of it, like a prophane & blasphemous kaitife as I was: whereby I mooued all sorts of people,In his Lucianlike Pistle. that professed any religion, to detest & condemne me for a most manifest Atheist: of which humour, I feare, many of our hottest fauorites be.

But let that rest: and let them looke to it themselues, and others, whom it concernes: and to end with you, of whom I haue greatest care (being the liuelie image of my selfe whom I must leaue behinde me that may continue the memorie of our house): this is the short & the long, and the somme of all. Auoide these three rockes, whereon your father hath made his shipwracke: Foolerie, Ribaudrie, and Blasphemi • . Be quiet at home; wee haue troubles enough abroad. It is no time now to play the fooles:Wise men indeed care for no • ooles. wise mens heads are occupied about great matters, & they haue better meanes to make them merie. And touching the matter you striue for,Martins mark. take heede what you do: you shoot at Church liuings; you hope to haue the spoyle. See what hath come by it in Scotland: Forsee what will become of it here: forget not the last partition. Omnia in aduersum spectantia, nulla retrorsum. Remember the shreddes that fall into the Tailors hell, neuer come backe to couer your backe. (I m • ane the clawes of our rauenous brethren) If you play the goose, and lend them a fether to fether their shaft withall, they will shoot you through:Martin plaies the goose. and then will you creake out too late, as hee did, Hei mihi quod propr • s pennis pereo. And so will you Sonnes both, like a couple of goosecaps, (if you looke not to it) as your father did, with your own goose quil. Let thē once cut a helme for their hatchet, but of a braunch of you, and they will cut downe all the wood handsmooth: for the which you can blame nothing, but the foolish handle. The Aegle, watcheth for Iacke dawe, till he haue broken the shell,Martin like lacke dawe. that he maie runne away with the kernell. So as, though they perswade you to chatter like Pies, yet they wil make right Iacke dawes of you. They will praise you, as the fox did the foolish Crow: and call you faire birds, as white as the driuen snowe, and make you open your mouth to sing, after their pipe, that they may deceiue you of the meate, you haue in your mouth. And when they once haue i • they wil then say to you, Nec vocem (stulte) nec mentem habes. A • ue Peri phrasis of Martin. That is, (Martin) you haue plaied the foole for vs, and you shall haue a fooles reward: that is, a flap with a foxe taile: and then shall you be as verie dogbolts, as now the other are dunces, with them. They will commend you to the skies, as the Woolfe did the Conie, and the Ramme; and say to you, O you are no rauenous beasts; you content your selues with grasse; you eate no flesh; you feed, and clothe others: but at the last, he will eate you both (quoth Rei • old the Foxe who is mine author).Martin the Father and his two yonglings. For his two sonnes are; Emptie bellie, and Neuer be full, and himselfe is called Deuoure all. To conclude, (for it is now no time to fiddle out fables, though it bee the fittest learning for your capacities) The beastes you hunt withall, must haue all. And this will bee the end of all, after your hot hunting; So •• hoc audito abierunt tristes non ausi mutire contra lupos. And so I wil end: for these are the things, that haue ended me.

And therewithal, lifting vp himselfe on his pillowe, he commanded the elder Martin, to go into his studie, and to fetch his Will, that lay sealed in his deske,A fit Label for a •• beller. and bound fast with an hempen string: which when he had brought, he commanded to be broken vp, & to be read in their hearing; which was as followeth.

After he had begun with the vsuall stile;Martins Will. next touching his bodie, (for it should seeme he had forgotten his soule: for the partie that heard it told me, he heard no word of it) he would, should not be buried in any Church, The place of his buriall. (especiallie Cathedrall, which euer he detested) Chappell, nor Churchyard; for that they had been prophaned, with superstition: but in some barne, outhouse, or field, (yea rather ther then faile dunghill) where their priuie prophecyings had been vsed; without bell, pompe, or any solemnitie; saue that his friends should mourne for him in gownes, and whoods, of a bright yellowe; the whoods made of a straunge fashion, for no ordinarie thing contented him (belike with a crest after Hoydens cut) and Minstrells going before him;The manner of his buriall. wherein hee would haue a Hornepipe at any hand,Mourning apparell. because he loued that instrument aboue measure: the rest he referred to their discretion; but a Rebuke, and a Shame, in my opinion,Mastins Musicke. were the fittest fiddles for him. Minister he would haue none to burie him, but his sonne, or some one of his lay brethren, to tumble him into the pit. He would not be laid East, and West, (for hee euer went against the haire) but North,His manner of lying. and South: I think because ab Aquilone omne malum; and the South wind euer brings corruption with it. Tomb he would haue none,Graue. (for feare belike that his disciples finding the monumēt, wold commit some Idola •• ie to it) nor Epitaph vpon his graue,Inscription. but in some post, or tree, not farre from it, he would haue onelie engrauen; M. M. M. Whereby his sonnes say, he meant; Memoriae Martini magni. But I thinke rather, this; M • nstrum Mundi Martinus.

This being thus prouided for, afterwards ensued his bequestes,Martins Legacies. in manner and forme following.

This being done; it was not halfe an houre,Martins death. but he began to faint: and turning about on his left side, hee belked twise: and as my friend Pasquin reporteth verie truelie, the third time he belked out his breath.

The Phisitians,His Anatomie. for that they doubted of his disease, though they knewe he wanted no imperfections, would needes haue him cut vp, where they found a wonderfull corrupt carcasse.

His Heart,His Heart. great, yet hollowe; (as before manie gessed) especiallie to the peace of the Church, and quiet of the State.Lungs. His Lungs, huge and made to prate. His Spleen large,Spleene. that made him so gamesome. His Gall,Gall. wonderfullie ouerflowen with choller, that made him so testie, & waiward withall. His Stomacke,Stomacke. full of grosse and salt humors, that procured him that same Caninum appetitum, that he had, and vnquenchable desire, to deuoure all. His Entrailes full of filth,Entrailes notwithstanding he had vttered so much before (marie of late daies indeede, as you heard, he voided nothing). I passe ouer the rest, whereof there was not one good part, but all disordered (as hee shewed himselfe aliue) and cleane rotten.Tongue. I had forgotten his Tongue, which was wonderfullie swolne in his mouth; I thinke by reason of his blasphemie.

But when they came to open the Head,Head. (a straunge case) they found no crumme of braine within it.

Wherefore hauing bestowed his bowells in a ditch, (for they might not carie them farther from the place) and fild vp his hungrie bellie (that could neuer be full,Spicing. while he was aliue) with coale dust; for spice they would not bestowe, (his carrion being not worth it) and sawe dust they could haue none: They wrapt him in a blanket, (like a dogge to bee canuasde) for that all others are lapped in sheetes,Shrude. (and he loued euer to be singuler) and so threwe him vnder boord.

The next night after,His Buriall. (for the horrible stinke thereof, because his bodie was so corrupt) and for that he durst not in his life time bee seene by day, being a night bird; they carried him foorth in the darke; and by reason he died excommunicate, and they might not therefore burie him in Christian buriall, and his will was not to come there in anie wise; they brought him vnawares to a dunghill,Mar. Graue. taking it for a tumpe, since a Tombe might not be had, and there cast him in.

And so, if any man will knowe where Martin lies; let him vnderstand, that he is endunged in the field of Confusion • enditched in the pit of Perdition: and cast ouer with the dirt of Derision: and there lieth he; and so I leaue him, with this Catastrophe. Sic pereant comnes Martini & Martinistae.

And this is the very truth of Old Martins death, which if the young Martins, or any Martinist of them all denie; I cast him here my Mitten vpon the quarrell.

ANd now pretie youthes, that your Fathers funerals are ended, we shal haue some nugifriuolous leasure to talke with you; which shall bee doubt you not with speed conuenient. For as there want not desperate Dicks amongst you, to write, and (if opportunity serued) no doubt to work anything,Martin shall not want Antagonists. be it neuer so mischieuous: so are there you shall well knowe it, some Sco • uolas that haue vowed by all lawfull meanes to remoue, such proude and pestilent Porsennaes, as you, and your mates are, from the desperate seege of our walls. In the meane space, that you may continue your fathers sweet memorie, and good credit, amongst vs; play still the desperate, and shame • s Swadds as you haue begonn; for you couch your Coddsheads; and your paper cannot blush, nor your selues neither, if you durst shew your faces, being past grace.

Onely, one pretie grace you haue, (speciallie you Sir Martin the More. K.) that if any man anger you (as some did of late,Martins chiefe grace. and more doubt you not will a little better) your Asses heeles, are vp streight, and you winse,Martin learn • to climbe gibbe •• s. as if you had a swarme of Bees behinde you, and you skip vp streight to the top of some gibbett; where indeed you may be bold (being all tenements belonging to your chiefe mansion house) and in the name of another, you play the parte of your owne proper person, which is (as your other brother tels you) as if you should be taken by the Constable, for cutting of a purse; you would by and by crie out, and saie to him; O Sir your nose sitts not right on your face, which, albeit, it be a pretie theeuish grace: yet you vse that so like a foole to,Two foolish tricks of Martin. as it looseth the grace, that (for want of 〈◊〉 grace) otherwise it might 〈◊〉 had For first 〈◊〉 Wi •• 〈◊〉 , when you knowe not who bo • d you, you strike him that first 〈◊〉 your foolish head. You are so afraide of Sa ••• that you 〈◊〉 (like a woodcock) ••• ie thing that gird • you comes from thence, for that there first began your bane.

And then like a Noddie, because one saith that your workes should passe the waie of all wast writings, The whip for the Ape. you giue him his owne worde againe, and make him Gr •• me of a close 〈◊〉 , which office if he had (but he leaueth it to such cl • anlie ma • es as your nowne good selfe) the fees I dare say for him, (Martin) should bee yours. And because hee tells you of the gallowes, that both you deserue, & cannot but befall you: you come in with the fame againe; which shewes you to be but a doltish dunce, and make vs a speach fitting your owne selfe.

But Sirra, see you learne your lesson perfectlie, and haue it without booke ad vnguem, A f • iendly admonition to Martin Senior. when it may stand you in steede, that when you come to your climing, that is vp Newgate, vp Hurdle, vp Holborne, vp Tiburne, vp cart: Martins climing. (as if you follow your rebellious vaine, that shall bee proued, you are like shortlie to doo, if you happen vppon your Salt-peter mans and your two fugitiue printers good luck) and to take reall, and actuall possession, not of the single gibbe • , but of the triple trestle, your vndoubted inheritance, that your father left you, which yee reserue (as reason is) for your selfe, and your friends as your onelie Prerogatiue,Martins Pr • • ogatiue. you may pron • unce it perfectlie, to the edifying of your brethren, and make a better end than you haue done a beginning.

In the meane space wee haue pro • ided you steede of a single) a triple Epitaph, (in Martin Seniors Epitaph. to bee engrauen, not on your graue (for you will neuer come to the worship, to haue so much as a ditch, or a dunghill, as your Father had to lye in) but in the three postes, of your place Paramount, in worship of the Father, and his two sonnes, which is as followeth.

And so (gentle Martin) much good doo it you: you see your fare for this time, and you are hartelie welcome. Take this in good parte, the next course shall be prouided for your own •• ooth, and glutt you better.