Against Filthy Writing/And Such Like Delighting Poem by Thomas Brice

What meane the rimes that run thus large in euery shop to sell?
With wanton sound, and filthie sense, me thinke it grees not well
We are not Ethnickes we forsoth, at least professe not so
Why range we then to Ethnickes trade? come bak, where wil ye go?
Tel me is Christ, or Cupide Lord? doth God or Uenus reigne?
And whose are wee? whom ought wee serue? I aske it, answere plaine
If wanton Uenus, then go forth, if Cupide, keep your trade
If God, or Christ, come bak the best, or sure you will be made
Doth God? is he the Lord in deed? and should we him obey?
Then his commaundement ought to guide, all that wee doo or say
But shew me his commaundement then, thou filthy writer thou
Let seet, I cease, if not, geue place, or shameles shew thee now.

We are no foes to musicke wee, a mis your man doth take vs
so frendes to thinges corrupt and vile, you all shall neuer make vs
If you denie them such to bee, I stand to proue it I,
If you confesse (defend them not) why then doo you reply?
But such they bee I will mainteine, which yet you bothe defend
And iudge them fooles, that them mislike, would God you might amend
But, substance onely I regarde, let Accidencis go
Both you and wee, bee that wee bee, I therfore leaue it so
And yet I wishe your tearmes in deed, vpon some reason stayd
If mine be not, reproue them right, Ile blot that I haue sayd
And that I wrote, or now doo wrighte, against you as may seeme
What cause I had, and haue, I yelde, to modest men to deeme
I wishe you well I doo protest, (as God will, I will so)
I cannot helpe, as frend ye wot, nor will not hurt as fo
But for the vile corrupting rimes, which you confesse to wrighte
My soule and hart abhorres their sence, as far from my delight
And those that vse them for their glee, as you doo vaunte ye will
I tell you plainly what I think, I iudge them to bee ill
This boasting late in part hath causd, mee now to say my minde
Though chalenges of yours also, in euery place I finde.