Epigram 27: Like as the Vipers birth's his mothers

Like as the Vipers birth's his mothers bane,
So the Popes Full, hath bene the Emperors Wane:
The Empires Autumne was the popish Spring,
And Kings subiection made the Pope a King.
Then did his holines become a God,
When Princes children like, gan feare his rod.
Whilst earthly potentates their owne did hold
The Popes then shepheard like did keep their fold.
And fore the sacred truth should be orecome,
They manfully would suffer martyrdome.
But farwell Martyrs now, and welcome Miters,
For paineful Preachers now, contentius fighters
With blood or gold assends the papall chaire,
Vnder the title of St. Peters heire.
I thinke if truth were brought vnto a tryall,
The Pope is heire to Peter in denyall.
But want of penitence proclaimes him base,
A Bastard, not of Peters blessed race,
Vnles when Christ did call th'Apostle deuill,
Hee's bastard to the good, and heire to th'euill.