To the rayling Route of Sycophants

IF he that once encountred with his Foes
In open field at sound of blasted Trumpe,
Doe dare to yéelde his hewed head to vides,
And go again to heare ye Canons thumpe:
With dreadlesse hart and vnappalled brest
Not fearing till he be by Foes opprest:
If such as earst in cutting of the Surge
By passing to the straunge and forraine lande
Bode bitter blast and scornefull Neptunes scurge,
Dreade not to take the lyke attempt in hande,
But rashly runne like sturdie ventrous Wights
Not fearing wind nor wane when Borias fights:
If these (I say) doe nothing doubt at all
But valiantly giue fresh assault anew,
Not dreading daunger that is like to fall,
As they long earst by proufe and practise knew:
Then why should I of yore that haue assayde
The force of Zoylls mouth be ought dismayde?
Then why should I, like one that fearde to fight
Or neuer crusht his head with Helmets heft,
Now shew my selfe a weake and coward Wight
As long as life or lym vncut is left:
Fo st and I attempt the like,
And selfe now shall I ck is strike?
No, no, I martch gainst Momus once againe,
My courage is not quailde by cruell Fo,
Though Zoyll did his best my Flag to gaine,
Twas not his hap to haue the Conquest so:
And since it was my luck to scape his might,
I here assaile the Beast with nouell fight.
Thou Sycophant, vnsheath thy shamefull blade
Pluck out that bloudie Fawchon (Dafrard thou)
Wherewith thou hast full many a skirmish made
And scocht the braines of many a learned brow.
Now doe thy woorst, I force not of thy stroke,
Thou shalt not bring my neck to seruage yoke.
Though thou affirme with rash & railing iawes
That I inuita haue Minerua made
My other Booke, I gaue thée no such cause
By any déede of mine to drawe thy blade:
But since thou hast shot out that shamelesse worde,
I here gainst thée vncote my cruell sworde.
I know thou wilt eche worde and sentence wrie
That in this slender Booke of me is write,
And wilt the same vnto thy sense applie
Hoping for loue thereby to bréede dispite:
And looke what I amisse did neuer meane,
Thou wilt mistake and eke misconster cleane.
Thou wilt the wylie braine that ought is bent
To fowle suspect and spot of fell distrust,
Perswade that here something of him was ment,
And Iealous Coales into his bosome thrust,
Thincking thereby thy purpose to as
In setting of his boyling breast a fire.
But as thou art in all thy other déedes
Deseruing no beliefe or trust at all:
Likewise what so from thy vile Iawes procéedes,
Is lothsome lie, fowle itton, bitter Gall.
Beleue him not but reade the Treatise through,
He sowes debate with helpe of hatefull Plough.
The modest mind that meanes but vertues trade
And shunnes the shamefull shop of bawdie sect,
This spitefull Beast will (if he may) perswade
That these are Toyes: for that he should reiect
And not pervse the meaning of the same,
Thus Zoyll séekes but blot of black defame.
But thou that vewste this stile with staid brow,
Marke crie worde, vnioint eche Verse of mine,
Thy iudgement I and censure will allow,
Nor once will séeme for rancour to repine:
Thou art the man whose sentence I expect,
I scorne the scoffes of Zoylls shamefull sect.