THE MAIDEN QVEENE Entituled The Britaine shepheardes teares for the death of Astrabomica.

Augmented the worldes vanitie. Both in sententiall verse, necessary and profitable to bee read of all Men. 1607.

Sola Virtus expers Sepulchri.
[portrait of Queen Elizabeth I]

Imprinted at London by I.W. for Iohn Browne and are to be sold at his shop in Saint Dun­stons Churchyard in Fleetstreet:

To the right worshipfull and vertuous Ladie Katherine wife vnto the worthy sir George Morton Knight.

RAre Chrisolite of vertues treasurie,
Within whose lookes rarieties doe daunce,
In liuing Corrall and pure Yourie,
Enamelling your modest countenance,
Whose holy life like Angels attomies,
Make strangers giue you tributarie praise,
Adamaske blush which by no dieing dies
But springs when death Lifes prentiship decayes.
In steed of siluer Vallance let me draw
Your fauours heauenly in Diapor
On these complaintes of Astrabonica,
Ambrosian Ladie if you grant it her
My Muse shall make your worship lōger knowne,
Then Nymphs or Charactries on marble stone
Your worships to command Henry Raymonde.

In Zoilum.

VVHen Pan with great Apollo did contend,
For glorie of sweet touch, and accent pure,
The Phrigian King as Iudge the strife to end,
To rurall Pan the Laurell did assure
Phoebus offended with his vniust doome,
Gaue Asses eares to such as claim'd his roome.
Then iudge on Zoilus boldly, for to you
The Asses eares, his head and all are due.
Pascitur in viuis liuor, post fata quiescit.

The Britaine Shepheardes teares for the death of Astra­bonica in sententiall Verse.

Canto I.

VVHen Rubie spring in primrose weede,
Bespang'd fresh louers season,
The Virgin Queene, of heauenly seede,
By vertue soule and reason.
Mox cetam ad superos moritu ra Astraa reces sit Iuuen.
Audacious fate declin'd, supprest,
And Englands ioy depriued,
This Orient Corrall, Natures best,
Whom death againe reuiued.
In heauen, fame, and Cinders, she
Igne suo Vitam dum raspit, ig­ne capit phoeni­ca, &c. preper
Suruiuing, absent, flieth,
And dead, sequestred liues in three,
And, as the Phoenix dieth.
Enuie, I laugh thy worst to scorne,
Thy smiles, with murthers vnder:
The glories which by her were borne,
Shall kill with double wonder.
Her spirit rich in saintes designes,
Eagle-eide wisedome teaching,
Higher then Hiperion shines,
Her contemplations reaching.
Ruling with meekenesse and reward,
Goddesse of vertues gardaine,
Most God-like she was here prepard,
To conquer vice with pardon.
And when pale death did her conuince,
King Iames in vertue shining
Succeedes, and now that noble Prince,
Supports vs from declining.
Which sacred states by fate disioinde,
The liuing raigns for euer.
The dead is vnto fame combinde,
Aud either times outliuer.

Cant. II.

Aurora weepe thou pearly mhirre
Distill each incensorie groue
True shepheardes teares to shed on her
That was the azure heauens loue,
Thou Iuniper and Sicomere,
Deplore you Astraes fatall fall,
VVeepe Laurel to Apollo deare
And Violets which the prime do call.
For Astra faire with hairs adorn'd,
Like Tinsil diaperd on pearle,
The iealous starres haue death suborn'd
To steale her hence, more lucent girle.
Astranubes condidit lunam nec clarius ful­gentsydera: her
For heauens faire Lamps, that glister so,
From her perfection hid their face,
Or els they had with scornefull woe,
Beene Sun-burnt by more lucent grace.
Her breath was like the verdure worne
On Sommers forehead: Maias birth
Cannot, with such perfume adorne
The closet of greene mantled earth.
Of nightingales a consort sweet
Recorded, whilst the Nymphs with Palme
Shrowded faire Astraes winding sheet,
Of Cassia and spiced Balme.
Quidsibene no­tum porticus Agrippate con­spexerit: ire ta­men superest Numa quo de­nenit & An­cus. hora.
Thus all betweene the Sunne and Earth
Conuerse with men but like the snow:
For what promotion, health, or wealth
Is there, but time doth ouerthrow?
Thus life presentes the new sprung May,
That morning blewes, and heat of noone,
Blights, that it flourish'th not a day,
Declining in it selfe more soone.

Cant. III.

The Cinocure, whose glistring light,
Was clearer of my pleasures morne,
Hath lockt me in cares Ebon night,
Bound in the chaire of fortunes scorne.
[...]
[...]
The Cinthia of my thought is lost,
(So vaine it is to flourish here)
But after her my loue shall post,
To meete againe my natiue deere.
So on the sweet Pastane faire,
Of her rich foreheads, Edin plaine,
Where all the loue of heartes repaire,
My flocke of ioyes may feede againe.
That walking with thee, in the groue,
Elisus campit [...]datur ora tue­ [...] tua. Virg
Where blessed soules delights are shut,
My wretched eies may once more roue,
Vpon thy lookes that life did cut.
From me, but if vnwasted art,
Yet sporting by the Elizian shore,
I will come serue thee with the part,
Of dutie, not perform'd before.
Post quam te partem anima mea rapuit ma­turior Vi [...] ▪ nec Charus noc su­persles ipse su [...] mihi. Hor.
For thee I waste, as wood on flames,
Or as dissolued wax on coales,
And pine much like, the gnat that games
Him in the lampe, till death controles.
Nunc ager Vm brens sub nomie no nuper Osellii dictus, erit nulle propriut Hor.
Thus earthly thinges are not our owne,
Their blossomes euery blast decayes:
Those, that on earth are longest showne,
Do spring and fall within few dayes.
Qui Letheum transiit flumen nulla illum po­sent reducere Carina: Sene.
The tree in morne, that proudly grew,
Ere glade is often blowne away,
And then no showers can it renew,
To flourish after first decay.

Canto IIII.

VVhē Prime, fancies weeping mother,
Corral buds, as ioyes fore-commer,
Brought from radiant Sol, her brother,
To ennamell Ladie Sommer.
Astra, the rose-bud of our spring,
Dying,
Et longum for­mose vale, vale inquit Iola Virg
with second life was crown'd
And euery Muse, and euery thing,
Her chest in weeping fare wells drown'd.
The Hyrachies in Tempe greene.
With siluer girdled Thames decreede,
Cui parem alma fides non inueni­et Hor.
For to enterre this maiden Queene,
Whose better neuer should succeede.
Her soule fled to the Edin doore,
In dulcent gardaines taking ease,
Nepenthe doth her ioyes restore,
VVithout the cup of Menales.
There Ceres giues her Atis flowre
Venus her louers stammell bud,
Hermophrodite erects her bowre
By Atis in the mirtle wood.
There sport with them by quiet Leathe,
A while, my ioy and I will come,
And kisse thy footesteps after death,
As now I do adorne thy tombe.
Fortuna vt me dicus ignarus multos coecat Eras.
Thus when worldes chiefest things arise,
Chance bends our minds to fancy those,
VVith which most swift away she flyes,
VVhen on them once our liking growes

Canto V.

Ergo Quintili­um perpetuus soper vrget Hora.
DId then the flower of maidens fall,
Into deathes slumber? no not so,
But saintes did her to heauen call,
VVith them in Paradise to go,
Micat inter omnes Iulium sidus velut in­ter ignes Luna minores.
Saying thou Phoenix of all starres,
Come to the crowned Virgins here,
A dore thy Sauiour and the scarres,
By which he ransom'd thee so deare.
Humanum est humanis easi­bus ingemisce­ [...]e Herodi.
But I, sith mortall, must lament,
For thee, sweet Queene, for thee for euer,
Railing on death's vngentle dent,
O death, O Ioy, O sorrow giuer.
O who can ward the stroke of thee?
Nullum saeua caput fugit Proserpina.
Or for himselfe or friend compound?
Or to preserue mortalitie,
VVhat Onamell can there be found,
And sith she was Theano wise,
A Samarite vnto the poore,
Dei pater sedes alcidi inter A­stra Sen.
And Tuca chast within the skies,
You Gods to her a star restore.
Thura dabe atque omnes violae tactabo colores luuena. Partae tibi a [...] ­ria sunt palum bei Virgil.
And euer whilst I tarry here,
I will burne incensory wood,
To thee, and send yong Turtles deare
For tokens to th'Elizian floud.
Princesse and Queene I will thee call,
My Swanes, for thy decease, shall weepe,
For euer, by Thamesis fall,
Cursing deaths priuate publike sleepe.

Cant. VI.

THe Thrush shall descant of thy same,
In siluer warbles to the spring,
Her yong shall do the very same:
In other ages as they sing.
Virtutes tuas nobilis expri­mer iufans luuena.
The Virgins yet vnborne shall walke,
Vnto Dianas silent woods,
Thy chastitie shalbe their talke,
As they do crop the maiden buds.
The Captaine of more high desire,
Thy wealth, thy bounty, and thy men,
Thy peace and conquest shall admire,
Such late perchance declined then,
But I forget my selfe to mourne,
That ioy to mourne, and mourne to ioy,
Since I beheld the blessed Vrne,
Whose bosome holdes my ioyes annoy,
You adamantine ruthlesse Beares,
Lay rage aside and weepe with me,
Thou wolfe, if thou for her shed teares,
The shepheardes swaine shall pardon thee.
The Cattoble­pos
Thou beast that doest the Moone delight,
Thy God desse waile no more but die.
Cinthia the comfort of the night,
Is plac'd in heauen, out of the skie.
Nunquam Sty­gias fertur ad Vmbras inclita Virtus. Sene.
But die not louing, hating creature,
Liue not, foole in such distresse,
Her vertues spight of such defeature,
A double view do still expresse.

Cant VII.

YEt comfortles we all decay:
So did her delian essence please,
So best respects slide first away,
And griefe concludes the greatest ease.
Diuitia sedent in vsum nunc mihi nunc alii. Hor.
A Crowne possest of him this day,
Ere long some other doth possesse,
And those which for estate assay,
Then least, by falling, are made lesse.
The chiefest store of worldly thinges,
Lubrica fortu­nasunt dona: Hor.
Are flying in a skie of glasse,
Which fortune giueth waxen wings,
To melt, before they come to passe.
Then care of minde, and bodies griefe,
Still vexeth life, and death doth come,
In our securenes, like a thiefe,
Mishaps warne none, but biteth dombe,
Quod nollimus accipimus quod vellimus perdimus, Terent:
And nought is sooner lost, saue things,
Which to enioy we must request,
But those, we would not, fortune bringes
To life, the mother of vnrest.
A thousand cares chance doth present,
With one good thing vnto our eies,
Which when to take our mindes consent,
The more abide, the lesser dies.
Sith freshest thinges so soone decay,
Carpe diem quam minimū credulus postero Hor.
And rest as they had neuer beene,
Once gone, he therefore that will may,
Must gather time when it is greene.

Canto VIII.

IS any Muse weeper for death,
Whose teares can giue a Phoenix life.
Yes, Clio mourns, when kings yeeld breath
And falues the wound of sorrowes knife.
Then Aconite, Cypresse and Yewe,
Yeeld sable shadow vnto graues,
The Virgin Laurel is her due,
And vertues bud her tombe imbraues:
You Thespian Imps of memorie,
Sing but of her magnificence,
And your heroick harmony,
Like Mermaides tunes, shall rauish sence.
Time stroke this marigoldes faire crowne,
So Queene-apples consume to clay,
Paunces and Hiacinths fall downe,
In earthly thinges there is no stay,
Wherefore awhile I meane to cease,
My teares that after shall abound,
Though few mone him, that will encrease,
A sparke that will himselfe confound,
Iam Elisias do­mus, iam beatū littus tenes Sen
Yet will I not relinquish plaintes,
For Astra sweet my song shall leade,
Who lost for euer, with the saintes,
Remaineth in th'Elizian meade.
Nulla te terris rapiet vetustas Sen.
Now dwelleth-dead here, and liuing there,
And yet aliue in euery place:
For Atropos, nor time can beare,
From earth, the vertues of her grace.
And you poore swaines, that sigh and crie,
For her, yet neuer saw her face,
Take here a shepheardes Virelay,
That shall recite you what she was.

An Ode Canto IX.

AS Philomela doth condole,
Qualis populea moerens Philo­mela sub Vm­bra, amissos queritur foetus quos durus arator detraxit. Virg.
When Plowmē hard of heart haue stole
Out of Dianaes chamber,
Her little ones, so we lament,
Rayling on death's vngentle dent,
That clos'd thy breath's sweet Amber
O death her face was wonders booke,
Charactred with an angels looke,
Where in a little heauen,
Ten thousand dimpled smiles did dwell,
Sporting in vertues Onamell,
But now she is bereauen.
Her radient forehead was the skie,
The shining Onix fixt thereby,
Her eies the Beames of Phoebe
Her cheeke pure Salamander downe,
Ennameld with an orient crowne,
More lucent then faire Hebe
Like wiery gold her locks did shine,
Her breath more sweet then Eglantine,
Her speech all Musicks wonder:
And euery part so passing faire,
That destenies did rent their haire,
Such dulcent life to sunder.
If that a goddesse should assume,
Life made for nature to consume.
Shee could not better gouerne,
She left no fame of sinne behinde,
But boundles ornaments of minde.
And was her bodies Soueraigne.
Melpomen,
Pracipe lugus bres cantus Melpomen. Hor.
by the Castale flow,
Tune thy sweet treble to our wo,
For iron fortune closes,
Her breast exceeding sommers milke,
Or Lillies spread on damaske silke,
Or times admired roses.
Come gentle Flora to our Queene,
Tibi Lilia ple­nis ecce ferunt Nympha cala­this. Vir.
Bring Dill and Ladie-lases greene,
To deck our rurall glory,
Here gladent lies the splendent Sunne,
Whose influence our day begun,
That all the meades are sory.
The little Goates do learne to weepe,
Tuum poeni e­tiam ingemuere leones interitum Virg.
So do the Wolues, so do the Sheepe
The Signets as in dying
Warble vpon Meanders shore,
Hic Vultur il­lic luctifer bubo gemit: Sen:
The Vultures for her losse deplore,
In their vnlucky crying.
But thus the Iem of earthly thinges,
One moment vnto nothing brings,
Thus flesh hath no assurance.
What most thereof we pretious call,
Like to the leafe doth spring and fall:
But now she hath indurance.
Where happy soules contained are,
To be our climate, Venus starre
Why Muse then stay thy mourning,
And also we haue part of her,
Spiced with penitentiall mirre,
Vntill her soules returning.

Her Obiet. Canto X.

A Straea, let thy shephearde come,
Ornamus tumu­los & lauro terra Vire [...]ts spar­gitur. Iuue,
And keepe this obiet at that tombe,
VVhich was our ioyes bereauer,
Times siluer daughter, purest maide,
I will adorne where thou art laide,
That wast, and art for euer.
A Phoenix thy dead cinders gaue,
Gentis huma­na pater & cu­stos tibi cura magni Casaris data. Hor.
From thee a roiall king we haue,
Good angels be his guider,
And Monarchs his posteritie,
Till time the day of doome descry,
He is our cares deuider.
Dearling to the graces three,
VVhilst Alchamists ordaine for thee,
A tombe of Gold and Amber,
The marigold,
Mollia luteola pinget vacinia caltha Virg.
the sunnes delight,
Greene Basil and the Primrose white,
Shall deck thy bridall chamber.
Husbandles, faire wedded maide,
To Christ,
Gloria virtuiē tanquam Vm­bra sequitur Cicero.
true vertues haue defraide,
In steed of deaths short slumber,
Such praises to thy Virgin name,
Such lucent attomies of fame,
No Linceus eie can number.
Yet wil I tell although a Swaine,
The golden age was in thy raigne.
It was an Aprill season.
Thy bountie seem'd the verdant showers,
Thy vertues rare a wreath of flowers,
As sun-beames bright thy reason.
It was a sight of worth to view
What maiestie did thee endew.
Thy wisedomes true decerning,
How other realms did deifie
Would aske Minerua to descry,
VVhich is the Queene of learning
Though insolence doth now repine,
At times extinct, those daies of thine,
Derided fond supposers,
Thy counsailers were famous farre,
Championi.
Thy champions terror in all warre,
Thy fleete new worldes disclosers,
Thy realme was like an Indian mine,
The purest mettall was thy coine,
The arts that then were vsed,
Insuing times may imitate,
But not exceede in any rate,
Vnpartially perused.
Thy fleetes resembled Zerxes power,
Each leader in them was a tower.
Thy soldiers rocks of honour,
The companies which those did yeeld,
Could beat great Caesar from the field.
And wound their foes with horror,
The illustrious bands were infinite,
Which she kept disciplin'd to fight,
And readie at an hower,
Her Cannon, Musket and her pike,
Her troupes of horse so thunder-like,
Scornd Alexanders power.
Pallam siguis auroque rigen­tem: colloque monile bacca­tum. & dupli­cem gemmis auroque coro­nam Virg. Purpuret Christis iuuenes auroque corusc [...] Virg.
Her captaines march't in suites of gold.
And siluer cloth of price vntold,
In chaines and indian pearle,
For silke and veluet was but meane,
Such happie plentie flourish'd then,
To blesse this heauenly girle.
Her men most fierce to sight at hand,
Could vse the vtmost of a band,
For high exploites resolued,
VVell set they were and fitly made,
Famous to charge and to inuade,
They sternest foes dissolued.
To lead those valours liued then,
Yong Essex that braue Mars of men,
VVho in Galizia raised,
His Speare, and dar'd at single sight,
T'in counter proudest spanish knight,
He was like Hector praised.
There were no Idols in her daies,
One God with vnprophaned praise,
She most deuoutly serued,
Her Clergie were a noble sort,
Of learning rare, and good report,
And were by faith preserued.
Her lawyers were profound and wise,
No priuate fee could right surprise
Vice had such sickles readie,
Troiaues opibus­que egenos Dido. Virg.
It neuar had a time to grow
Great pentions she did still bestow
Vpon the sick and needie.
The damaske rose her ensigne bore,
Her cheeke that badge in beauty wore,
The Lyon was her banner.
Her minde heroicke fixt to this,
Made her the milke-white Lionesse,
Of pittie, mixt with honour.
Thus was the land-like to the cost,
Of Edin which old Adam lost,
Insula diues opū Priams dum regna mane bant, Virg. Nempe Alcides mortalis obiit Sene.
Whilst that white rose remained,
But for she liu'd below the sunne,
Where all thinges vnto ending runne.
Shee could not be retained.
Our liues are at so fraile a rate,
Death is our sur'st associate,
Our ioyes resigne to sorrow,
Nemo tam diuos habet fauentes crastinum vt si­bi possit polliceri Seneca.
And lost, or gotten thinges but grieue,
Lesse happie time, then bad we liue,
Vncertaine of the morrow.
Thus life enioyes no residence,
Short minutes do our time dispence,
And sixtie times an hower
Time changeth as the moments runne,
Things seeming permanent begunne:
Time doth, like gnats deuoure,
But loe the Lapidaries come,
With orient Iems to raise thy tombe,
In forme of heauens faire motion,
Of Iasper cleare shalbe the skie,
The Sunne of guilded Yuorie,
Diana in her stacion.
VVith siluer starres shall make a night,
Her selfe a blasing Chrisolite,
And interposed vnder,
Greene mirtle groues of Emerauld,
For earth center shalbe impald,
In this applausiue wonder.
Reuested in a Saphire blew,
Shall lie a maide of snowie hew,
Vpon a tombe of pearle.
The Muses nine in corrall drawne,
Clouded in Tinsill and pure lawne,
Shall mourne about this girle.
VVhite turtles also pensil'd theare,
Of diamond shall tapers beare,
VVhich starres shall tip in burning,
In violet gownes nimphs manifold,
Shall sit and pray in bookes of gold,
And make harmonious mourning.
Poore shepheard, then I will away,
Sweet nightingale, and larke go play,
Her obiet thus was ended:
And she suruiues in heauen aboue,
And ioyes of paradise doth proue,
And is with saints attended.

Cant. XI.

LIke as the Swan, which neuer sings before,
Piscospue amne padusae Dat so­nitum raues per stagua lo­quac iacycni. Virg.
Time, naturs steward, bids him life restore
Then with such tunes receiues his finall sleep
That all Meanders continent do weepe.
So do I sing though not so sweet a lay,
Yet it presageth of my dying day,
And speaking Astrabonica of thee,
The turtle doues resort to visit me.
The Nymphes, as witnesses, about me come,
How I dy'd speaking, though I liued dombe.
Some to deride me,
Bubosape queriet longas in­slet umducero voces: Virg.
but none proue more bad
Then such as seeme so wise, so good so sad.
The lasie Owle, that harbendger of death,
Besoundes a dirge for thy expired breath.

Canto XII.

THe bird that makes his song-booke of a thorne,
By the inclosure of thy graue doth mourn
The glo-worme kinde, thy obsequies to hold
In steed of tapers, shines like Phebus gold.
The glistering yeikle, when winters come,
VVith siluer labels beautifie's thy tombe.
Despise not then that by th'Elizian coast,
In shepheardes musicke I salute thy ghost,
For feare the sunne should languish in desire,
And by descending set the world on fire.
Nitor tui splen­dentis pario marmore puri­us Hora.
Nature & death decreed that thou sholdst die
Viewing the starry casement of thine eye.
VVhose browes of beauty still inclos'd such sight
As dim'd the carbuncle the Chrisolite.

Canto XIII.

WHen flowring Floras vesture doth begin,
To shew the cowslip with his balmy chin
Her verdure rare, infusd into some flower,
Might, with Adonis, dill vp Maies bower,
VVithin her face, that features Hellicon,
Latona had her chast Pauilion.
And to the waters doth lament her losse,
VVho with an orient, stellifi'd the cost.
The little Nimphs their yuorie lutes do frame
For her the Stygian Marriner to blame,
Melpomene to whom Apollo gaue
The dolefull voice doth mourne besides her graue
Pleasant Euterpes eies for anguish weepes,
To see her gladed in eternall sleepe.

Canto XIIII

O VVhen will Time her equall find againe
For to inhabit in this mortall raigne,
She hath beene oft bewaild of each degree,
Multi ille bonis flebilis occidit nulla flebilior quam tibi Vir­gili. Hor. Quicquid corri­gi non potest levi us [...]it pattentia Catullus
But of none more (sweet vertue) then of thee
No Orpheus songs can her recall againe,
Vnto the image of her flouring raigne,
For Mercurie, with his hard wand hath led,
Her hence, vnto the blacke flocke of the dead
But when such helps fortune loades the sight,
Patience and fortitude must make it light,
Old wintry age, in grisly furrowes now,
Callends of death indents vpon my brow.
Yet ere I fade and ere my pen shall passe.
I'le shew the world how good a Q. she was,

Canto XV.

I, In the ruines of my with'red lust,
That should but meditate on sable dust.
Thy blandishments, as loue-sicke must vn­folde,
For the succeeding ages to behold.
Charactring it, vpon some mirtles barke,
In verses fit to greete the mornings larke.
You little heard-grooms boūd to shepheards law,
See then what wight was Astrahonica.
Purpuriat ded [...] ratque comas diffunder [...] Ventis: Virg.
The damaske roses incensorie bud,
For pure vermiliō could not match her bloud
Her voice with wonder hearing charmed still
Like to an Orpherion toucht with skil.
Her hairs that with the warbling winde doth twine
Did seem, then Tagus richer, more deuine.

Cant. XVI.

These sonets importe the accomplishments of her youth.
HEr eies presented with her forehead euē,
Stars dancing in the siluer hall of heauē
Phoebe reflected not more brighter on,
Her tender louer yong Endimion.
Her words from wits circumference did fall,
Comprising methode most angelicall.
To such, as modestie did not reueale,
She was obdurate with a flintie zeale.
Ouid himselfe could not her faire impart,
And yet her beautie was her poorest part.
When shee did trip vpon an Aprill greene,
You would haue took her for Adonis Queene
Her daintie lips she moued being merrie.
Describ'd a corrall kissing of a cherrie,

Canto XVII.

THis Shephardesse, that death from vs be­reaues
Her little goates, vpon the twining leaues
VVas wont to feed,
Pormosus oues ad flumina pa­vit Adonis: Virg
to her our lookes did go,
To gather indissoluble pure snow.
For white and red so flourisht in her cheeke,
That Edins white and orient seem'd to speake.
Natures decree in polish'd yuorie,
That with her glade, true beauties day should die
A hooke of Christall were her haires, her eine.
Ensnar'd with sun beames in a silken line.
VVhere vertues did a world of hearts behold
Surpriz'd by blushes in a net of gold.
In wonders Simpathie, from earth exil'd,
Her vertue liu'd to beautie reconcil'd.

Canto XVIII.

SEeking her face at midnight for the day.
I did behold night, heauen, moone & may.
For stars & vertues Sunnes & flowers did trip,
From cheeke to forehead, & from eie to lip.
Her coūtenāce moued with a thousād graces
As prettie dimples quauer in loues faces.
Whose lusters had they bin by cignet shown
They would haue turn'd Achilles to a stone.
Haue beene an incensorie flame to make,
The Phoenix rare an other shape to take.
A yeare of may-months on her brow did oast
Marshalling features to defend the coast.
Vnder whose ensigne modestie did fight,
Against all false exacters of delight.

Canto XIX.

HEr hairs that on her brow the air did blow
Bended I ke daffadillis kissing snow.
Where beauty drawne with many an azure line,
Shew'd to the world she was a wight deuine.
And in her looks were liuing angels drawne,
Weauing hart-wōders in her cheeks soft lawn
The little stars shot from their fixed places,
Vnder her eie-lids to behold their faces.
VVhich sat in Canopies to all discloses,
Two siluer loade-starres in a skie of roses.
Pallas disciphred not a fairer dame,
Of silke and tincy in gold arras frame.
She was a virgin to be prais'd of kinges,
And was the diamond of earhtly thinges,

Canto XX.

BVt now yon honied flowers with balmy sap,
That sunny bloomes awake on Tellus lap.
Shall decorate no more her bosome sweet,
For she is gladed in her winding sheete.
The twining worms within the dead mās hal
For loue knots, in het silken locks do craule.
VVith mourning silence, by some secret tree,
Winding. Nec gemere áe­ria cessabit tur­tur ab Vlmo Vir.
Like to the turtle I will grieue for thee.
And if I talke, my speech but sorrow tels,
My hearing deafe, but onely hearing knels.
The rotten toade-stoole shall content my tast
My sight and feeling after death shall hast.
That worne with, Morphew leane & withe­red,
I may resemble my companions dead.

Britans Ode S. XXI.

VVHen as that cunning Artizan,
Faire Philomel, her song began.
The time Aurora in her tent,
Display'd her rubie ornament.
This time the terme of shepheards law,
Came louely Astrabonica.
To teach her corrall lip to plead,
Of loue, in the greene girdled meade.
Lookes that sith, and siths that looke,
Instantly my arrant tooke,
Heart did loue to eies deliuer,
To present the fairest liuer.
Hartles soules, we both did woe,
VVanting heartes yet both had two.
Like Ganimed her face did shine,
That youth which drawes the Gods their wine.
Her feature seem'd of flesh and bone,
Like Venus in white marble stone.
The yuorie girle was not so white,
In which Pigmalion tooke delight.
Her skin as sleeke as Affricke silke,
Aurea mala decemn isi, cras altera mittam Virg.
Her vainslike violet straines in milke.
Her haires reueal'd the golden fleece,
Or passing tindaris of Greece:
Queene-apples for her did I get,
VVith yellow sides like amber wheate.
VVith turtle-doues from mirtle nest,
VVhile she made bracelets for my wrest.
But wer't the sonne of Telaphus,
Or youthfull chast Hippolitus.
That had with grizly death agreed,
To fetch her to th'Elizian meade.
To be the flower of virgins there,
I know not but their did appeare.
From violet buds a serpent blew,
VVhose sting infix'd, Astraea slew.
There as me a sleepe she sung,
Death, to death, her sorrowes stung.
Medea wanted to apply,
Nec semper vi­ola, nec semper lilia florent; [...] ­riget amissa spina relect [...] rosa. Ouidius. Forma breuis flos est.
Nepenthe buds and dittany.
And whilest heauens tooke her soule,
Theeuish death her beauty stole.
So the rose-bud of our spring,
Died like euery pleasant thing.
So the Lilly of our field,
Presently her life did yeeld.
Presently, for finest leaues,
First from greene, the frost bereaues.
Thus desteny our life but lends,
And care begin's where pleasure ends.
So death's lure must be obaid,
And good thinges soonest are betraid.
So that which men most pretious call,
Springs but to feede mischance withall.
Phatusa neuer more did mourne,
VVhen sobs did her to Amber turne.
Nor Progne, which on turrets steepe,
For mens false periuries doth weepe.
Then I, when fatall palenes there,
I had espi'd to clould my deare.
O Astrabonica I cri'd,
And eccho halfe the name repli'd.
Bonica is gone to keepe,
A flocke of heauens golden sheepe,
Then viewed I her in such sad sort,
As sorrow none can now report.
Cursing planets of lifes might,
Starres of birth that did this spight
And all that vnto death belongs,
Teares of graue, and herses songs,
Breathing out her finall grone,
Shee desird to passe alone.
This is my last request quoth shee,
Stay here till I do come for thee:
So here I stay amidst this vale,
Till my Elizian Nightingale,
Inuite me to the mi [...]le spring,
If my cares thorne her bosome sting.
So here I stay against my brest,
As Philomele when I should rest.
The thorne of fortune which spares none,
To make me mindefull to be gone.
Nema foelix est dut fuit aut vx [...] quam erit. Zen.
From hence where man is made the slaue,
Of all mishaps vntil his graue.
This apparant to the woods,
The Nimphes selected verdant buds,
And time the daffadilly gaue,
So shee was wedded to her graue,
In maiden yeeres who was destroid,
For good thinges seldome are enioi'd.
HEre is no sage Astidamus to please,
Enuy that honest actions doth displease.
No liquide incke of Hellicon to write,
Rurall my songs, and I arurall wight.
In Westerne Vallies by the Sycomers,
Elizian sorrowes, shed in Aprill teares.
Relent not reede, though fawning Gnatho spight,
Asses more often vse to bray then bite.
Yet as thou art submissiue to the wise,
Malignant curs deride and sotts despise.
Of Zeuxes pensill, let Apelles tell,
Nature ordain'd thee to an oaten Quill.
Depart and liue for Hiltons olde content,
Eternizd by Thamesis continent.
FINIS.

THE VVORLDES VANITIE. Very profitable for allsorts to consider.

Est Ʋita aegra salus, Vexata quies, pius error,
Bellica pax, Ʋullnus duceque, suaue malum.
WHen Zephirus, the primrose loue was come,
To raize the sleeping pawnce from winters spight,
And Aprill seasons nutrimentall blome.
The sable earth in daffadillies dight.
Whilst vnto Flora, birds on euery tree,
Their homage paid in Tubals harmonie.
Then on a promontory by the west,
I spent my time in meditation,
To sing vnto my reede esteeming best,
Some song thot might remain when I am gone,
Where full of care for Astrabonica,
This languishment of life my voice did draw.
In methode which perchance it selfe may saue,
From the inuasion of dissoluing daies
And keepe from deaths subuersion & the graue,
My thoughts inclosed in suruiuing laies
Which spurnd by enuy shall affirme with schools
No praise so great as the contempt of fooles.
Frondeum infe­lix Philomela nidum ponit argutum medi­dit anicanoro. Cutture carmē Toren.
O who will learne me griefe? come Philomele,
That to the virgin Muses Lutes doest sing,
And wilt thy wofull desteny reueale.
To shepheardes in the tender lipped spring,
Cimbale a siluer straine, then sob among,
And with sweet discords melodie my song.
This fickle worlds delight, is but distresse,
Which wise men title false felicitie.
Fooles sweet, whose substance is but bitternesse.
Asilly toy to mocke our fantasie
For none inherits ioy vpon the ground,
Vntill their bodies on the beare be bound.
First strāgers here we greet the world with cries
Cares eat our life, and we feede wormes at last,
Nothing haue we secure but miseries,
Our goods are trifles for mishap to wast,
And he that seems too rich, too strong to fade
Lies soonest leuell by the deluers spade.
Here, if in vertuous partes we spend our dayes,
The euill minded mock and hate vs sore,
And if we sinne and follow vicious waies,
The good and vertuous will detest vs more
Thus enuy combates life, but happy those,
That force the scum, their enuy to disclose.
Life linked to the corse appeares in view,
Like feathers on the arrowes that are sold,
Which are but fastned with a little glue,
And fall away by heate arwatry colde.
So fals our life with euery little griefe,
Into the dust, so falles the greenest leafe.
How can life be of any valour when,
A soldier but for eight pence doth it sell?
How can it be that men should not be men,
But so like brutes in base affections dwell?
When counting at their end their season spent
Their life shall seeme a short imprisonment.
Here men repose securenes in their hope,
In which their lot most fatall doth appeare,
For oft their purpose aymes beyond the scope.
Of the short time, they haue to soiourne here:
Admit they liue, life but augments their thrall
Their wishes to some others lot do fall.
Man seemes to be most happie in his youth,
Florida aetas multos mortis casus habet. Cicer.
And in the ioy, to that fraile flame assign'd,
But youth is frailest if we note the truth,
And soonest spent, for youth with foolish minde
Falls vnawares on care, or timeles end,
His ioyes deride him, and to cares descend.
In wealth some other would be counted blest:
But vaine presumption or vnthriftie pride,
VVith seruants falshood empties oft his chest,
Or his insatiate spirite doth hoorde and hide,
That hauing store, he plaines of pouertie,
Or prodigall, is eate of vsurie.
Thus mortall happines (if any be)
Doth iointely yeeld vs most vnhappines,
For losse or gaine proue both alike to thee,
For losse or gaine proue both alike distresse,
Frail earthly things corrupt both root & seed
For to their losse, or gaine great cares proceed
All earthly pleasures, that content the eie,
One blast their being, and their worth subdues,
Fortune with death mischife with miserie,
And momentarie end, our mirth pursues,
Then if thou wilt thy heart on pleasures lay,
Choose God to be thy confidence and stay.
This life is but a may game, mixt with wo,
An aierie stage, where we like poppits play:
Quis sit an ad­itciant hodier­na crastina vi­ta temporadis supri. Horat.
The greatest ioy doth passe as minutes do,
And looke what time hath brought, time takes away,
VVith Sisiphus, we role a restles stone.
The best to day a man to morrow none.
Ioy is the image of vnconstancie,
Day but a lampe for men to view their paines,
Time, purseuant of imbecilitie,
Rest, an vnrest, where sinne in thoughts remain,
All thinges vnpermanant saue miserie,
Mishap, our wealth, and death, our desteny.
To know this world make but anotomie,
Of the dissembling hippocrites that liue,
Search him that yeelds thee formall curtesie,
And hee'le be thine, no longer then thou giue:
Making himselfe a Ianus with two faces,
Fallit vitium specie virtutis, Innenal,
Now yeelding honour, and anon disgraces,
So doth the world, like to a parasite,
Or flatterer vnto some fat-purst foole,
Intice vs on with pleasure and delight,
But when her blandishments atach our soule,
We find her painted craft was to beguile,
And Syren like to kill although she smile.
Here is that radiant Iewell, vertue spurn'd,
Naked conceit bare witted brauerie
Doth sit her chariot she being quite oreturnd:
Here short liud gnats hate perpetuitie,
VVhose wit with Midas maks thē wear lōg eares
Though for their welth wise men with flatterers
O nunimi vobis hunc prastat ho­norem. Iune.
The ocean of obliuion must not drowne,
Those Guls, which to produse a benefit,
In all offences will a man renowne,
Th'ile say that madnes is a manly heate,
And if insatiately we swallow foode,
These will commēd our stomacks to be good
Our humors these will sound with subtill slight,
And where we estimate our selues most deare,
Either for forme of body, wit or might,
In that they will protest we haue no peere:
But mock vs gone, to such no counsell tell,
But seldome speake and alwaies listen well
Donec eris foelix multos numera bis amicos. Tempora si fue­rint nubila solus eris. Ouids.
Here whilst a man hath welth to spend and giue,
These threed-bare ecchoes of vnconstancie,
That like to droanes on others hony liue,
VVill counterfeit with men to liue and die.:
But if their patron once they needie see,
They seeke a new and then say farewell hee.
If they perceiue thy tables spring is drie,
These fawning Gnathoes from thy need wil turn
To other bordes, and to thine enemy,
Perchāce wil go to to do thee some shrewd turn
Some wilbe friends their aimed stroke to strike
Of which preuented, they will thee dislike.
They call him foole in these deceitfull daies
That is to seeke with both his hands to play,
VVherfore that wight is thrale to great dismaies
On frindships trust which doth his councels lay
Then with thy friend, as still your friendship grow,
Remember he may liue to be thy foe.
As when Sybell, the troian duke did lead,
Vnto the mirtle woods and realme of ghosts,
Virtutis co­mes inu [...]dia.
The helhound snarled with the triple head,
And hegs and furies, serpents at him tost:
So here with slimie mouthes at vertue fights,
Lusts fat-braind fragmēts cropstuft parasites.
Thus in this world the laborinth of woes,
VVith false resemblances we are supprest,
Learning and vertue haue ten thousand foes,
In no degree content, or fortune rest,
Helth, beuty, strength & life, but spring to fall,
And enuie springs with either to wrong all.
Inuidus alteri­us rebus macre­scit opimis. Hor. Effundet mala lingua Virus a­trum. Virg.
A wight with neighbours happines and ioy,
Perplexed euer with contagious paine,
Is enuy euer laughing at annoy,
But stings her heart with snakes at others gaine,
At bookes and learning she will poyson fling
As thicke as Bacchus wiues at orphy sling
Thus we with sundry woes are martired,
Being poore in wealth, and strangers to our own
Here in the vale of mourning banished,
Liuing but deputies and must begone:
And the more perfect all our vertues are,
The fouler enuies do against vs warre.
Then that which we call death, is not to die,
But rather to exchange a death for life,
Dico tunc vitam beatam fata cum peracta sint: Solon.
And scape the cloister of all misery,
And earthly ambages and hellish strife,
If by contemplating our state we see,
We bōdslaues liue, & death shall make vs free.
The glutton thinks his belly is too small,
The couetous still wanteth drosse and slime,
The flatterer protests hee's at thy call.
While for thēselues these cūning mates but clime
Here with such counterfets wee alwaies dwell,
That seeke our goods but wish our souls in hel
Here being borne, we rather die then liue,
For all our life is as a seeming death,
Few howres we sport, but many daies we grieue
Whilst deth with secret hād doth stop ourbreth
So though we ioy or grieue, while we be here,
VVe onely seeme as shadowes to appeare.
Both wealth, & friends, both ioys and sports also
VVill flit away if danger come in place:
And sure they proue vntrue to make vs know,
That this fraile mansion is no dwelling place,
To teach vs loue those things that still endure,
And seeke a hauen wherein to liue secure.
Mans mortall life is like a speedy post,
That from all places swiftly cuts a way,
Vntill he hath attaind his aimed cost,
Both youth and age haste on & make no stay,
In the beginning, middle end of either,
Cum sapido capimus supe Vanena. Cibo.
Both seeke such things, and will abide with neither
A wretched soule, that fortune down hath flūg.
Finds no assistance in his shipwracks flaw,
In seeking flowers, with nettles we are stung,
Thus bound we are in worldly yokes to drawe.
And we resemble till in dust we lie
The flowet that in a day, doth spring and die.
Let not my words supply a wonders place,
For truth doth witnesse that I do not faine,
He that is mortall knowes a mortals case,
And that each mortall liues in mortall paine.
For we were borne to die and die we must,
To day aliue to morrow turn'd to dust.
What wight can well behold a dead mans skull
And sighing will not say the same with me?
That were thy corps as Salamander wooll,
A vault of slime thou art, and once shalt be,
Clos'd in a charmell house as could as stone,
And meat to worms that now thou treadst vpon
This world is like vnto a common Inne
VVhere Adoms child doth liue as passenger,
Here some one day, some many daies haue been,
Yet in their being they are nought the neare.
For tim's so swift,
Dum loquimur fugit inuida atas. Hor.
that none can time retaine,
And Time once gone, Time neuer turns again.
Mans life is very fitly term'd a span,
And we are but earths worst, and that is clay.
Wormes are the garland of vaine glorious man,
O be not proud sith thou must die to day.
Then if thou trust, trust death for he is sure,
For all on earth will perish as impure.
Life may be likened to a violet flower,
Beg nawne with Caterpillers or the glew,
That wise Medea gaue her paramour,
VVhich choking balls the buls of Colchos slew:
Life may be like to nothing, sith man sees,
Nothing more like to nothing then life is,
Mandeeme thy selfe no better then thou art,
A sory iourniman from birth to graue:
All worldly goods which we encroach by art,
Are momentarie trash, and what we haue
Is of the world and must be left behinde,
And on the earth is no content of minde.
VVealth comes not in by hap or is increast,
By fathers toile, the sonnes good to prepare,
Promotion comes not from the East nor VVest,
Such fortuns dwel neither in moon nor star
But he doth all encrease, and blessings hold,
That first composed man of earthly mould.
As he in danger liues who hath a theefe
Hid closely in the night, behind his doore,
So all that liue haue euen of theeues the chiefe,
Death lodg'd within their bosō: Thebes therfore,
Wisely ordaind, that licence none shold haue
To build his house, that made not first his graue
Triphon and Agamendo hauing made,
Apolloes temple, and for leu of this,
Desir'd the happiest thing that could be had,
They were repaid with death as chiefest blisse.
This common peril, salue of vanitie,
Is good, because it endeth miserie.
The power of flesh is but a rotten reede,
And truth to say,
Breuis est magnifortuna fauoris. Sen.
what is prosperitie?
A slaue to alteration, care and dread,
A slipperie step that ill men magnifie:
And life is but a warfare against sinne,
And flesh a bridewell to torment it in.
All worldly louers die not worthily,
But twise the paines of fleshly death they beare,
Whereas the stout, and valiant men but die,
These Cowards feele a double death for feare.
But fate which none can flatter, or suborne,
Nor tongue entreat, ought stoutly to be born.
I know the propertie of pleasure is,
To leaue more sorrow, when it goes away,
Then when it came it brought deluding blisse,
And well I know, that death will haue his day:
[...]
The which defrauding lusts whē we haue took,
In their best stay do vanish all like smoke.
And done we circumuent our selues thereby,
The time thereof departs and there we stand,
Detected factors of a villany,
Mock'd by the deed, and of the hellish band,
The iudge, our cōsciēce doth cōdemn the euil
VVhich we commit and leaues vs to the deuill
To some good art if Tutors do not binde,
Vs,
Otium omnia mala docet, a dolescentes. Cicer.
in our youth, the cares of life to trie,
VVe, being free, our idle vexed minde,
To pleasures damned faculties apply,
That worse then prētiship, our fancie woūds
Our selues to death, & proue Acteons hounds
Here such as gifts do spare, & those made poore,
By giuing no respect can haue, for all,
Pleasure excludeth who can giue no more,
Then pouertie her Syren voice doth call,
If once enrich'd she rich & poore doth weed,
Then turn's them out vnto small friended need
To harbor in all weathers, poore and bare,
On the cold ground, of such as friends had been
Some will deride them, none relieue their care,
But say wherefore had he not kept it then?
Thus when our wealth will not keepe cōpany
None will redresse our states in miserie.
And can we any earthly thing attaine,
VVithout displeasure, labour, miserie?
VVhich of them are not slippery in the gaine,
And very may games of vncertaintie?
Their vanitie no author can discusse,
They are as common vnto beasts as vs.
The graue deliuers all men from their care,
And life once gon, sinnes, time seemes finished
Praemia quan­ta bonos mane­ant. Inuen.
In spite of all the snarling curs that are,
VVhich gnaw the liuing and torment the dead,
Both rich and poore, euen all that suffer grief
If good, shall after death find full reliefe.
VVhen Thian from the worldes great voiage came
Some ask'd him what a world he then had seen
I haue beheld vertue opprest with blame,
(Quoth he) & poor mēs suits cōfounded clean
By the vsurping proud, and fooles expresse,
And beat the wise, & great theeues hāg the les
And how for money Argus wil not see,
How rich mēs falts were sport, but poore mens crime
How best deserts with thāks scarce guerdō'd be
How the opprest bought pitty in his time:
And how most seeming holy men in gownes,
Vnder that sanctimony fish'd for crowns.
This was the worlds rude reuolution then,
VVhich euer was but vaine and euer shall
Remaine mans hurt, sinnes shop a daemons den,
Or like a dreame, or tossed tennise ball.
Mans life is fitly term'd a nothing got,
The gainers loose the hauers haue it not.
Care eat's man's entralls, Enuie gnaws his back,
Fortune with slipperie chances trip his foote,
Greedines tels him somwhat still doth lacke
VVhen he hath tooke his deepest shallow roote
His name, & fame, time doth dissolue to noght
And one as vaine into his roome is brought.
The triumph daies which Rome to Caesar gaue,
Carthage to Hanniball, the spartan host
Vnto Leonides that Athens graue
Impos'd on Pericles and Persia coast
Allotted Syrus, after victorie
Had no repose, no perpetuitie,
For this the heathen Emperours ordain'd,
(So much this worlds vaine frailenes did they know
That whē they had their diadēs attaind,
Masons & Caruers should vnto them goe
Enquiring of what forme that tombe should be
Sowell the Pagans knew their vanitie.
For this the Romans made a wise decree,
That when a Consull did in triumph ride
In Coach, with him a slaue should placed be
Which slaue shold say my friend for all this pride
Take heed thou know thy self chāce doth butlēd
This which in shame without great heedwil end seasons & yeers
Through howrs through daies, weeks, months,
Through labor, hunger, cold, care,
paine teares,
watchings,
Throgh false delights, fools, vniust friends, losse,
From birth life fades, vnto the graue again:
And death, the sweet release of sorrow great,
The flouring bud of youth doth first defeat.
To Ciperissus youth he was extreame,
And vnto Hilas, who his locks did dight,
Making his noone daie mirror of a streame,
And Adlington whose surname Welsteed hight,
In belgicke wars, his launce did ouercome,
Circling that yong Apollo with a tombe.
Si quid mea carmina possint Nulla dies vn [...] quam memori te eximet ano Virg.
But, most obliged friend, thou shalt not lie,
In lowest dust, as though thou neuer were,
Although alas we all are borne to die,
My loue shall one day greet thy warlike beare:
Meane time repose thee in the Elizian field,
Fame hath thy name, and honours tent thy shield.
Raptam euridi­ce [...] atque irri­ta l [...]itisdona querens. Virg.
Yet will I moure for thee with such sad laies,
As Orpheus once resounded for a ghost,
When in the prime of all her flouring daies,
His yong wife whom he dearly loud he lost.
The woods shalbe my house, my bed sōe stone
There wil I liue, for thee & die alone.
Here, as they wold, who can their hopes receiue?
Here, as they would, who can esteemed be:
Here, Fates, and friends perfidiously deceiue:
Here, as they wold (Time) who can feed on thee
None: for on earth, where al things are vnsure
Things seldome be, or being not indure.
My youth declin'd, and felt no kind of ioy,
The wanton daies wherein I tooke delight,
VVere but a dreame, a shadow, and a toy,
And were but lent to breede me more despight
But why vnpittied should I murmur so?
I naked came, and naked hence must go,
Respect the vniuersall liues of men,
And see what toile in liuing dust remaines,
This man is fleshly crimes detested den,
That seeks out Anaxarchus worlds for gaines,
Diseases, need, and wrong an other knowes,
Like leaues in storms so are we tost with woes
And liuing here with whom doth man frequēt:
But with old lechers enuious parasites,
Murtherers belly-slaues what snares are bent,
Noua terris in­cumbit febriū cohors. Hora.
To take his soule, against his body fight,
Intollerable stones and stranguries,
VVith feuers, postumes, swelling maladies.
Man in this world is laid as sure in hold,
Till he be put to execution,
For what gaile hath more labor, hunger, cold,
Or more diseases then this world hath shown:
To greatest men O vale of languishing,
No muse can tell the troubls thou dost bring
And whereas one adorned with the crowne
Of siluer locked age, salutes his graue,
Infinite in their chiefe are beaten downe,
Pallida mors a­quo pulsat pe­de pauperum takernas regū ­que turres. Hor.
Death neither spares the wretched nor the braue
For death of custome as a cold in May,
By toile, or sorrow first giues youth decay.
O foolish sorrow, vexed happines,
Selfe flattering mock, proud nothing, painted clay,
Chaos of trouble, mischiefe, and distresse,
Vncureable Vlcer, Syrens lay,
Times Icarus, Post, Bubble, Froth, false name,
O life no slander can expresse thy blame.
Mishaps tragedion, residence of paine,
Cipher of earth, sinnes slaue, true reasons gale,
Cypher.
Thoghts pray, ioies mock, youths foole, natures disdaine,
Prids asse, into the ditch of death to fall
Is man, his youth, and age both fickle breath'
Are but as Gaylors keeping him for death.
Thus all our daies are parents of sure cares,
Willand Wit.
Our health the nurse of wars, tween will & wit,
Our impious youth a mist for age prepares,
A crimefull pack of sinne, too great for it,
Our selues vnto our selues a wretchednes,
With vain cōceits our lusting minds oppres,
Our age presents, but feeblenes disguis'd
Perplex'd in thought with sin, in flesh with pain
His company, and counsels are despis'd
His death expected by his friends for gaine,
VVho much reioice if we in riches vade,
If poore to rid vs hence they wilbe glad.
For all their pallaces and shining pride,
Rich men are slaues to many tirannies,
And sleepes foe sorrow, durst in them abide
Foule lusts, & mocked hopes do them surprise,
And thogh their greatnes keep the mean in fear
Yet most with them their own cōmāders bear.
If earth were animated with a soule
As Plato did suppose, the very ground,
Wheron he treads, would call a monarch foole,
And say thou wretch thou thinkst thy selfe re­nownd,
Whē I, that am the earth retain in me
A thousand thousand better men then thee.
And if earths compasse be a point in all,
Of which an Empire seemes a little sparke,
VVhat may we then a priuate Lordship call.
Not halfe a wormehole if we rightly marke,
Then why shold any think themselues so great
Sith they are bounded in so small a seat.
And when thou leauest this life, thou bearst no­thing
Of these with thee, thy realms, and pleasurs send
Thee hence alone although thou were a king,
Thy flesh also that seem'd thy deerest friend,
A naked soule, doth let thee passe away.
Thus but in heauē, thou hast no perfect stay.
Therefore we alwaies shold haue death in mind
How to another country we must go,
How life is but a leafe blowne vp with winde,
A cobweb light, a false familiar foe,
Sin's nurse, a sicknes long, a dying day,
A friend of vice, that seeks the souls decay.
And al our pride is but mortalitie,
VVhere in an earthen frame, the plannets boile,
Humors corrupt, as Cinthea doth the sea
VVhich do inuest the soule and make her toile,
In cogitations base, and all earths best,
Is seldome had or gotten but vnrest,
Our home aboue the circle of the stars
Is set, leauing the clouds behind her back,
To the last heauen the soule her slight prepares,
By death released from this vally blacke,
VVhether when endeed desteny thee brings,
That thou behold the snining iudg of things
Then wilt thou say this is the wished place,
My country true of which I had no minde,
Here was I borne & bowing down thy face,
To earth, thou wilt cōdemn thy friends so kinde,
That there lament thy death because they cast,
Their loue on lusts, & ioies that wil not last.
This earth is but a Cell of punishment,
Yet peoples insolencie will not know it,
Vntil they fal in matter of complaint,
Though time their youth & chance their friends defeate,
VVhilst that thēselues are wel they think such lie,
As say this world is but meere vanity.
The minuts, hours, daies, weeks, months & yeers
On whose swift transmigration life depends,
Senister chance excruciates with teares,
If one day please, a month with care offends,
The liked time declines, the wished lot
Com's sild, and soone departeth being got.
Count but the time, ere thou thy wish obtaine,
Then next, how long thow after that maist liue.
And thou shall see it proue so short and vaine,
That hauing it, it shall thy minde but grieue,
And proue in vsage, lesse and worse to thee,
Then in thy fancy first it seemd to be.
As the vniointed limbe no ease can haue,
But by vniting with his natiue place:
So from his birth vntill he hath his graue,
Man liues in griefe, & doth but thornes imbrace
In ioy & time, he hopes but for his paine,
And hating death, he hates his greatest gaine.
Now sith the world can giue but painted bubbls
For fooles and epicures to dote vpon,
Tell it, it can impart nor ioies nor troubles,
For all is but a dreame below the sunne,
And flesh is dust, pride, vaine, & life a span.
Then bid the world afflict thee how it can,
Foes, fortune, world & hate, your worst is death
Greatnes, delight, and pompe, your best is end,
Here hopes and friends the fates sequestreth,
And many teares for both in vaine we spend.
The liuing and the great are fortunes slaues,
More then the wretch, or those that lodge in graues.
Thus is our life but carefull meditation,
Qua atas lo [...]g [...] est aut quidom [...]ino homini longum. Salust.
Of vaine discordant thoughts, a liking shade,
Of momentarie thinges a mist soone gone,
A frothy dew which to it selfe hath made,
The promise of lōg time, whē that each hour
It is vnto it selfe vnknowne vnsure.
And of this life, the trust and confidence,
Whose short abode doth make vs bold to sinne,
By this thou seest and by experience,
That since the howre in which it did begin,
It runneth vnto nought and euer shall,
Till it expire as it had neuer beene,
Like to a dreame or shadow on a wall.
VVhat foole will then repine to passe frō hence,
Where nothing is sincere faith, peace, nor loue,
VVhere many most oppresse the least offence,
VVhereas the great are not so sure aboue,
But they shall naked passe to natures Inne,
And soone become, as they had neuer beene.
That they may enter heauens eternall gate,
Math. xi.
To Christ, who cals oppressed soules to ioy,
And with the blessed sainted infants mate,
VVhich Herod from sweet Iewrie did destroy,
VVherewith all wronged innocents appears,
Math. 2.
Their weeping mothers bath'd in bloud and teares
No eie hath euerseene nor heart hath thought,
The solaces which God hath laid in store
Corinth. xi.
For their content, who set this world at nought
The kingly prophet wish'd to keepe the doore
Of that place,
Psal. 84.
rather then he would possesse
All earthly Princes glorious wretchednes,
Here soldiers and couragious noble men,
VVho for their countries honor were supprest,
Released from their bodies painefull den,
With euerlasting quietnes are blest
In vnion of the Godheads trinitie,
They that were mortall liuing angels be.
VVhich Lord I pray, that when our life shal end
This life which day by day in vanitie,
And night by night to none effect we spend,
Of all offences pardoned let vs be
Committed heere by mist of mind opprest,
That in thy promis'd glory wee may rest.
The glory bright of that immortall raigne,
VVhere soules and bodies shalbe wedded new,
After domes day, and neuer die againe,
Paul wish'd to be dissolud this same to view,
And praises of his highest God to sing,
In Paradise by heauens eternall spring.
That therefore we may trust none earthly thing
Sweet Iesu, for thy tender loue to all,
VVith the lost sheepe vnto thy folde vs bring,
Math 18.
That we may know thy voice whē thou dost call
Make saued souls of these our sinfull formes
And thinke on me Lord, when I am in thrall,
And lie in graue a deaths head full of wormes.
Grant Christ whose blessed bloud in crimson streames,
With bitter rods and cruell nayles was shed,
Whose sacred limbes were rack'd on woodden beames
Whose holy heart was pierced being dead,
Grant to protect vs from all deadly sinne,
And when we from this dying life are fled,
Let sorrowes end and heauenly ioyes begin.

Amen.

An Ode. Nulla dies caret maerore.

VVIth prouidence reflect thy looke,
Into thy liues accounting booke.
And thou shalt see how Time destroyes
Thy youth, thy friends, thy foolish ioyes.
Which pleasures mocking all desires,
Shew them but seruants vnto liers,
And looke on this with eies of minde,
With which men see when they are blinde.
None euer had such ioy a day,
That from them did not slide away.
Fo [...] that soone turneth into was,
Which sprung of late as tender grasse.
With Ioy let none himselfe deceiue,
For euery lust will take his leaue.
Rich miserie is great mens share,
Pompous distresse and glittring care,
VVith which they toile as troubles lent,
Till death exact of them their rent.
Still in thy pleasure beare in minde,
That sorrow is not far behinde.
Fiuers present our image plaine,
VVhich passing neuer turne againe.
Such is this world when it is best,
That each degree finds little rest.
He that is highest in his pride,
His fortune changeth as the tide.
All signifies a fading flowre,
Rust, Time, and wormes will all deuoure.
Life, Ioy, and euery pleasant meede,
Scarce hangeth by a slender threede.
To all, this period fate doth doome,
That all must vnto nothing come.
As child in nurses arms, by death
Included here we draw our breath.
VVhere all our solace is vnstable,
Out death vnknowne ineuitable
VVhich none by strength alternate may,
Riches, or birth, or other way.
And earth is promiser of rest,
VVhich is not as it seem'd possest.
None haue contentment at their call,
And smalest sweet abounds in gall.
VVhen we thinke surest for to stand,
Then greatest slidings are at hand.
One danger sildome comes alone,
But moe proceed ere that be gone.
The Castels, which repulse a foe,
Cannot defend a man from woe.
VVherefore old Solon did commend,
To call none happie till their end.
And Dyon gaue this sentence rare,
The shorter life the lesser care.
From birth that prison we ascend,
On earth, as stage to take our end.
And here a life enui'd we haue,
And no true rest vntill our graue.
VVherefore fooles heauen, but wise mens hell,
Vaine Earth, I bid thy ioyes farewell.
FINIS.

Ad suos libros.

AS Time and the cold graue,
Concludeth euery thing:
So you I ended haue
Poore bookes, amidst the spring
Euen as the Larke saluted day
And siluer drops bedewd each way.
Go now and pardon craue
Of that heroick knight,
Which wisedome doth embraue,
Whom if you know not right,
His bountie, stature, compleat forme,
And valour great shall you informe.
His haire like wreaths of gold
Do shade his manly face,
So warlike to behold
As Mars the God of Thrace.
Nature and Art did both consent
So to contriue him excellent.
His Lady fresh also,
And daughters vertues flowers,
Adorne you, as you goe
Vntill your latest houres.
Which goodly creatures to be seene
Seeme Lillies on their stalkes so greene.
So passe away and if that enuie stirre,
T'is but a stingles drone, a barking cur.

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