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 aunswered first, that in such disguised plaiers geuen over to all sortes of dissolucion, is not found a wil to do good, seeing they care for nothing lesse than vertue: secondlye that is not the meane to correct sinne Heare I reprooue not the plaies of scollers Ch. 6. I wish that in place of daunses at mariage, the time were supplied with some comical or historical show of the auncient manages of Abraham and Sara, of Isaac and Rebecca, and of the two Tobies and theyr wiues, matters honest and tending much to edify the assistauntes.'

xiv. 1575..

[Prologue to The Glasse of Governement (cf. ch. xxiii).]

What man hath minde to heare a worthie Jest, Or seekes to feede his eye with vayne delight: That man is much unmeete to be a guest, At such a feaste as I prepare this night. Who list laye out some pence in such a Marte, Bellsavage fayre were fittest for his purse, I lyst not so to misbestowe mine arte, I have best wares, what neede I then shewe woorse? An Enterlude may make you laugh your fill, Italian toyes are full of pleasaunt sporte: Playne speache to use, if wanton be your wyll, You may be gone, wyde open standes the porte. But if you can contented be to heare, In true discourse howe hygh the vertuous clyme, Howe low they fall which lyve withouten feare Of God or man, and much mispende theyr tyme: What ryght rewardes a trustie servaunt earnes, What subtile snares these Sycophantes can use, Howe soone the wise such crooked guyles discernes, Then stay a whyle: gyve eare unto my Muse. A Comedie, I meane for to present, No Terence phrase: his tyme and myne are twaine: The verse that pleasde a Romaine rashe intent, Myght well offend the godly Preachers vayne. Deformed shewes were then esteemed muche, Reformed speeche doth now become us best, Mens wordes muste weye and tryed be by touche Of Gods owne worde, wherein the truth doth rest. Content you then (my Lordes) with good intent, Grave Citizens, you people greate and small, To see your selves in Glasse of Governement: Beholde rashe youth, which daungerously doth fall On craggy rockes of sorrowes nothing softe, When sober wittes by Vertue clymes alofte.