A Handefull of pleasant delites, Containing sundrie new Sonets and delectable Histories, in diuers kindes of Meeter. Newly deuised to the newest tunes that are now in vse, to be sung: euerie Sonet orderly pointed to his proper Tune. With new additions of certain Songs, to verie late deuised Notes, not commonly knowen, nor vsed heretofore,
By Clement Robinson, and diuers others.
¶ AT LONDON Printed by Richard Ihones: dwelling at the signe of the Rose and Crowne, neare Holburne Bridge 1584.
The Printer to the Reader.
YOu that in Musicke do delight your minds for to solace:
This little booke of Sonets m [...] wel like you in that case,
Peruse it wel ere you passe by, here may you wish and haue,
Such pleasaut songs to ech new tune, as lightly you can craue.
Or if fine Histories you would reade, you need not far to seek:
Within this booke such may you haue, as Ladies may wel like.
Here may you haue such pretie thinges, as women much desire:
Here may you haue of sundrie sorts, such Songs as you require.
Wherefore my friend, if you regard, such Songs to reade or heare:
Doubt not to buy this pretie Booke, the price is not so deare.
A Nosegaie alvvaies sweet, for Louers to send for Tokens, of loue, at Newyeres tide, or for fairings, as they in their minds shall be disposed to write.
A Nosegaie lacking flowers fresh, to you now I do send.
Desiring you to look thereon, when that you may intend:
For flowers fresh begin to fade, and Boreas in the field,
Euen with his hard con [...]ealed frost, no better flowers doth yéeld:
¶ But if that winter could haue sprung, a swéeter flower than this,
I would haue sent it presently to you withouten misse:
Accept this then as time doth serue, be thankful for the same,
Despise it not, but kéep it well, and marke ech flower his name.
¶ Lauander is for louers true, which euermore be faine:
Desiring alwaies for to haue, some pleasure for their pain:
And when that they obtained haue, the loue that they require,
Then haue they al their perfect ioie, and quenched is the fire.
¶ Rosemarie is for remembrance, betwéene vs daie and night:
Wishing that I might alwaies haue, you present in my sight.
And when I cannot haue, as I haue said before.
Then Cupid with his deadly dart, doth wound my heart full sore.
¶Sage is for sustenance, that should mans life sustaine,
For I do stil lie languishing, continually in paine,
And shall do stil vntil I die, except thou fauour show:
My paine and all my greeuous smart, ful wel you do it know.
¶Fenel is for flaterers, an euil thing it is sure:
But I haue alwaies meant truely, with constant heart most pure:
And will continue in the same, as long as life doth last,
Still hoping for a ioiful daie, when all our paines be past.
¶Violet is for faithfulnesse, which in me shall abide:
Hoping like wise that from your heart, you wil not let it slide.
And wil continue in the same, as you haue nowe begunne:
[Page]And then for euer to abide, then you my heart haue wonne.
¶Time is to trie me, as ech be tried must,
[...]ting you know while life doth last, I wil not be vniust,
And if I should I would to God, to hell my soule should beare.
And eke also that Belzebub, with téeth he should me teare.
¶Roses is to rule me. with reason as you will,
For to be still obedient, your minde for to fulfill:
And thereto will not disagrée, in nothing that you say:
But will content your mind truely, in all things that I may.
¶Ieliflowers is for gentlenesse, which in me shall remaine:
Hoping that no sedition shal, depart our hearts in twaine.
As soone the sunne shal loose his course, the moone against her kinde,
Shall haue no light, if that I do once put you from my minde.
¶Carnations is for gratiousnesse, marke that now by the way,
Haue no regard to flatterers, nor passe not what they say.
[Page]For they will come with lying tales, your eares for to fulfil:
In anie case do you consent, nothing vnto their wil.
¶Marigolds is for marriage, that would out minds suffise,
Least that suspition of vs twaine, by anie meanes should rise:
As for my part, I do not care, my self I wil stil vse.
That all the women in the world, for you I will refuse.
¶Peniriall is to print your loue, so déep within my heart:
That when you look this Nosegay on, my pain you may impart,
And when that you haue read the same, consider wel my wo,
Think ye then how to recompence, euen him that loues you so.
¶ Cowsloppes is for counsell, for secrets vs betwéen,
That none but you and I alone, should know the thing we meane:
And if you wil thus wisely do, as I think to be best:
Then haue you surely won the field, and set my heart at rest.
I pray you kéep this Nosegay wel, and set by it some store:
[Page]And thus farewel, the Gods thee guide, both now and euermore.
Not as the common sort do vse, to set it in your brest:
That when the smel is gone away, on ground he takes his rest.
FINIS.
L. Gibsons Tantara, wherin Danea welcommeth home her Lord Diophon frō the war.
To the tune of, Down right Squire.
YOu Lordings, cast off your wéedes of wo
me thinks I heare
A trūpet shril which plain doth show
my Lord is neare:
Tantara▪tara tantara,
this trumpet glads our hearts,
Therefore to welcome home your King,
you Lordings plaie your parts,
Tantara tara tantara, &c.
¶ Harke harke, me thinkes I heare again,
this trumpets voice,
He is at hand this is certaine,
wherefore reioice.
Tantara tara tantara, &c.
this trumpet still doth say,
With trumpets blast, all dangers past,
doth shew in Marshall ray.
¶A ioifull sight my hearts delight,
my Diophon déere:
Thy comely grace, I do embrace,
with ioiful chéere:
Tantara tara tantara,
what pleasant sound is this,
Which brought to me with victorie,
my ioy and onely blisse.
Tantara tara tantara, &c.
Diophon.
My Quéene and wife, my ioy and life
in whom I minde:
In euery part, the trustiest hart,
that man can finde.
Tantara tara tantara,
me thinks I heare your praise,
Your vertues race in euerie place,
which trumpet so doth raise.
Tantara tara tantara, &c.
¶ Now welcome home to Siria soile,
from battered field:
That valiantly thy foes did foile,
with speare and shield:
Tantara tara tantara,
me thinks I heare it still,
Thy sounding praise, abroad to raise,
with trump that is most shrill,
Tantara tara tantara, &c.
¶ If honour and fame, O noble Dame,
such déeds do aske:
[Page]Then Diophon here to purchasr fame,
hath done this taske:
Tantara tara tantara,
returnd he is againe,
To leade his life, with thée his wife,
in ioie without disdaine.
Tantara tara tantara, &c.
Finis.
L. G.
¶ A proper new Song made by a Studient in Cambridge,
To the tune of I wish to see those happie daies.
I Which was once a happie wight, and hie in Fortunes grace:
And which did spend my golden prime, in running pleasures race,
Am now enforst of late, contrariwise to mourne,
Since fortune ioies, into annoies, my former state to turne.
¶ The toiling oxe, the horse, the asse, haue time to take their rest,
Yea all things else which Nature wrought, sometimes haue ioies in brest:
Saue onelie I and such which vexed are with paine:
For still in teares, my life it weares, and so I must remaine.
¶How oft haue I in folded armes, enioied my delight,
[Page]How oft haue I excuses made, of her to haue a sight?
But now to fortunes wil, I caused am to bow.
And for to reape a hugie heape, which youthful yeares did sow.
¶ Wherefore all ye which do as yet, remaine and bide behind:
Whose eies dame beauties blazing beams, as yet did neuer blind.
Example let me be, to you and other more:
Whose heauie hart, hath felt the smart, subdued by Cupids lore.
¶ Take heed of gazing ouer much, on Damsels faire vnknowne:
For oftentimes the Snake doth lie, with roses ouergrowde:
And vnder fairest flowers, do noisome Adders lurke:
Of whom take héed, I thée aréed: least that thy cares they worke.
¶What though that she doth smile on thée, perchance shee doth not loue:
And though she smack thée once or twice, she thinks thée so to prooue,
And when that thou dost thinke, she loueth none but thee:
She hath in store, perhaps some more, which so deceiued be,
¶ Trust not therefore the outward shew beware in anie case:
For good conditions do not lie, where is a pleasant face:
But if it be thy chaunce, a louer true to haue:
Be sure of this, thou shalt not misse, ech thing that thou wilt craue.
¶ And when as thou (good Reader) shalt peruse this scrole of mine:
Let this a warning be to thee, and saie a friend of thine,
Did write thee this of loue, and of a zealous mind:
Because that he sufficiently, hath tried the female kind.
¶ Here Cambridge now I bid farewell, adue to Students all:
Adue vnto the Colledges, and vnto Gunuil Hall:
And you my fellowes once, pray vnto Ioue that I
May haue reléef, for this my grief, and spéedie remedie.
¶And that he shield you euerichone, from Beauties luring looks:
Whose baite hath brought me to my baine, and caught me from my Books:
Wherefore, for you, my praier shall be, to send you better grace,
[Page]That modestie with honestie, may guide your youthfull race.
Finis
quod Thomas Richardson, sometime Student in Cambridge.
¶ The scoffe of a Ladie, as pretie as may be,
to a yong man that went a wooing:
He wēt stil about her, & yet he wēt without her,
because he was so long a dooing.
ATtend thée, go play thée,
Swéet loue I am busie:
my silk and twist is not yet spun:
My Ladie will blame me,
If that the send for me,
and find my worke to be vndun:
How then?
How shall I be set me?
To say loue did let me?
Fie no, it will not fit me,
It were no scuse for me.
¶ If loue were attained,
My ioies were vnfained,
my seame and silke wil take no hold:
Oft haue I béene warned,
By others proofe learned:
hote wanton loue soone waxeth cold,
Go now:
I say go pack thée,
Or my néedle shal prick thée:
[Page]Go séeke out Dame Idle:
More fit for thy bridle,
More fit for thy bridle.
¶ Wel worthie of blaming,
For thy long detaining,
all vaine it is that thou hast done:
Best now to be wandring,
Go vaunt of thy winning,
and tell thy Dame what thou hast won:
Say this:
Then say as I bade thée:
That the little dogge Fancie,
Lies chaste without moouing,
And needeth no threatning,
For feare of wel beating.
For feare of wel beating.
¶ The boy is gone lurking,
Good Ladies be working,
dispatch a while that we had done,
The tide will not tarrie,
All times it doth varie,
The day doth passe, I sée the Sun,
The frost bites faire flowers,
Lets worke at due howres,
Haste, haste, and be merie,
Till our néedles be werie.
Till our needles be werie,
¶ Now Ladies be merie,
Because you are werie:
leaue worke I say, and get you home,
[Page]Your businesse is slacking,
Your louer is packing:
your answer hath cut off his comb.
How then?
The fault was in him sir,
He [...] it so trim sir,
Alas poore feelie fellow,
Make much of thy pillow.
Make much of thy pillow.
Finis.
An answer as pretie to the scof of his Lady,
by the yongman that came a wooing,
Wherein he doth flout her,
Being glad he went without her,
Misliking both her and her dooing.
ALas Loue, why chafe ye?
Why fret ye, why sume ye? to me it seemeth verie strange,
Me thinks ye misuse me,
So soone to refuse me,
vnlesse you hope of better change:
Wel, wel:
Wel now, I perceiue ye,
You are mindful to leaue me:
Now sure it doth grieue me:
That I am vnworthie:
That I am vnworthie.
¶ I mean not to let ye, nor I can not forget ye
it wil not so out of my minde:
My loue is not daintie, I sée you haue plenty,
that set so little by your friend.
[Page]Goe too spin on now I pray you, I list not to stay,
I will goe play me:
I am vnfit for you, &c.
Leaue off to flout now, & prick on your clout now
you are a daintie Dame indéed,
And thogh of your taūting, I may make my vaunting
as bad or worse thā I shal speed:
Sweet heart, though now you forsake it.
I trust you wil take it:
and sure I spak it, ss fine as you make it, &c
Now wil I be trudging, without anie grudging
I am content to giue you ground:
Good reson doth bind me, to leue you behind me,
for you are better lost than found:
To play, go seeke out Dame, pleasure:
You are a trim treasure,
Wise women be daintie,
Of fooles there be plentie, &c.
¶ If I might aduise ye, few words shuld suffice y
e & yet you shold bestow them wel:
Maids must be manerly, not ful of scurility,
wherein I sée you do excel,
Farewel good Nicibicetur,
God send you a swéeter,
A lustie lim lifter, you are a trim shifter, &c.
Finis.
Peter Picks.
¶ Dame Beauties replie to the Louer late at libertie: and now complaineth himselfe to be her captiue, Intituled: Where is the life that late I led.
THe life that erst thou ledst my friend, was pleasant to thine eies:
But now the losse of libertie, thou seemest to despise.
Where then thou ioiedst thy will, now thou doest grudge in heart:
Then thou no paine nor grief didst féele, but now thou pinest in smart.
What mooued thee vnto loue, expresse and tell the same:
Saue fancie thine, that heapt thy paine, the follie learne to blame.
¶ For when thou freedome didst enioie, thou gauest thy selfe to ease,
And letst self-will the ruling beare, thy fancie fond to please:
Then stealing Cupid came, with bow and golden dart:
He struck the stroke, at pleasure he that now doth▪ paine thy hart:
Blame not the Gods of loue, But blame thy self thou maist:
For fréedome was disdaind of thee, and bondage more thou waiest.
¶ Who list, thou saist. to liue at rest, and freedome to possesse:
The sight of gorgeous Dames must shun, least loue do them distresse:
Thou blamest Cupidoes craft, who strikes in stealing sort:
[Page]And sets thée midst the princely Dames, of Beauties famous fort:
And meaning wel thou saiest, as one not bent to loue,
Then Cupid he constrains thée yéeld, as thou thy self canst prooue.
¶ Faire Ladies lookes in libertie, enlarged not thy paine:
Ne yet the sight of gorgeous Dames, could cause thée thus complaine.
It was thy self indéed, that causd thy pining woe,
Thy wanton wil, and idle minde, causd Cupid strike the blow:
Blame not his craft, nor vs that Beauties darlings be,
Accuse thy selfe to seeke thy rare, thy fancie did agree.
¶ There is none thou saist, that can more truely iudge the case:
Than thou that hast the wound receiu'de, by sight of Ladies face.
Her beautie thée bewitcht, thy minde that erst was frée:
Her corps so comely framd, thou saiest, did force thée to agrée:
Thou gauest thy self it séemes, her bondman to abide,
Before that her good willingnesse, of thee were knowen and tride.
[Page]What iudgement canst thou giue: how dost thou plead thy case:
It was not she that did thée wound, although thou seest her face:
Ne could her beautie so, inchaunt or vex thy sprites,
Ne feature hers so comely framde, could weaken so thy wits.
But that thou mightest haue showile the cause to her indéede,
Who spares to speak, thy self dost know, doth faile of grace to spéede.
¶ By this tho [...] safest, thou soughtss ye means of torments that you beare,
By this thou wouldest men take heede, and learne of loue to feare:
For taking holde thou telst, to slie it is too late,
And no where canst thou shrowd thy self, but Ca [...]e must be thy mate.
Though loue do pleasure seeme, yet plagues none such there are:
Therefore all louers now thou [...], of liking to beware.
¶ Thy self hath sought the meane and way, and none but thou alone:
Of all the grief and care you beare, as plainely it is showne:
Then why should men take héed, thy counsell is vnfit:
[Page]Thou sparedst to speak, and faildst to spéed, thy will had banisht wit.
And now thou blamest loue, and Ladies faire and frée:
And better lost than found my frind, your cowards heart we see.
Finis.
I.P.
A new Courtly Sonet, of the Lady Green sleeues.
To the new tune of Greensleeues.
Greensleeues was all my ioy,
Greensleeues was my delight:
Greensleeues was my hart of gold,
And who but Ladie Greensleeues.
ALas my loue, ye do me wrong,
to cast me off discurteously:
And I haue loued you so long,
Delighting in your companie.
Gréensléeues was all my ioy,
Gréensléeues was my delight:
Gréensléeues was my heart of gold,
And who but Ladie Gréensléeues.
¶ I haue been readie at your hand,
to grant what euer you would craue.
I haue both waged life and land,
your loue and good will for to haue.
Gréensléeues was all my ioy, &c.
¶ I bought thée kerchers to thy head,
that were wrought fine and gallantly:
Which cost my purse wel fauouredly,
Gréensléeues was al my toie, &c.
¶ I bought thee peticotes of the best,
the cloth so fine as fine might be:
I gaue thée iewels for thy chest,
and all this cost I spent on thée.
Gréensléeues was all my ioie, &c.
¶ Thy smock of silk, both faire and white,
with gold embrodered gorgeously:
Thy peticote of Sendall right: a
nd thus I bought thée gladly.
Gréensléeues was all my ioie, &c.
¶ Thy girdle of gold so red,
with pearles bedecked sumptuously:
The like no other lasses had,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me,
Greensléeues was all my ioy, &c.
¶ Thy purse and eke thy gay g [...]ilt kniues,
thy pincase gallant to the eie:
No better wore the Burgesse wiues,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Gréensléeues was all my ioy, &c.
¶ Thy crimson stockings all of silk,
with golde all wrought aboue the knée,
Thy pumps as white as was the milk,
and yet thou wouldst no▪ loue me.
Gréensléeues was all my ioy, &c.
¶ Thy gown was of the grossie gréen,
thy sléeues of Satten hanging by:
[Page]Which made thée be our haruest Quéen,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Gréensléeues was all my ioy, &c.
¶ Thy garters fringed with the golde,
And siluer aglets hanging by,
Which made thee blithe for to beholde,
And yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Gréensléeues was all my ioy, &c.
¶ My gayest gelding I thée gaue,
To ride where euer liked thee,
No Ladie euer was so braue,
And yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Gréensléeues was all my ioy, &c.
¶ My men were clothed all in gréen,
And they did euer wait on thée:
Al this was gallant to be séen,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Gréensléeues was all my ioy, &c.
¶ They set thée vp, they took thée downe,
they serued thée with humilitie,
Thy foote might not once touch the ground,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Gréensléeues was all my ioy, &c.
¶ For euerie morning when thou rose,
I sent thée dainties orderly:
To cheare thy stomack from all woes,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Gréensléeues was all my ioy, &c.
¶ Thou couldst desire no earthly thing.
But stil thou hadst it readily:
[Page]Me thinks they do resound,
with doleful tunes, me to lament,
And in my sléep vnfound, alas,
Me thinks such dreadful things to passe:
that out I crie in midst of dreames,
Wherwith my tears run down as streams,
O Lord, think I,
She is not here that should be by:
What chance is this,
That I embrace that froward is?
¶ The Lions noble minde,
His raging mood (you know) oft staies,
When beasts do yéeld by kinde,
On them (forsooth) he neuer praies:
Then sithence that I am your thrall,
To ease my smart on you I call.
A bloudie conquest is your part,
To kill so kind a louing heart:
Alas remorce,
Or presently I die perforce:
God grant pitie,
Within your breast now planted be.
¶ As nature hath you deckt,
with worthie gifts aboue the rest,
So to your praise most great,
Let pitie dwell within your brest,
That I may sa [...]e with heart and wil,
Lo, this is she that might me kil:
For why▪ in hand she held the knife,
And yet (forsooth) she saued my life.
[Page]Hey-ho, darling:
With lustie loue, now let vs sing,
Plaie on, Minstrel,
My Ladie is mine onelie girle.
The Historie of Diana and Acteon.
To the Quarter Braules.
DIana and her darlings deare,
Walkt once as you shall heare:
Through woods and waters cleare, themselues to play:
The leaues were gay and green,
And pleasant to be seen:
They went the trées betwéen, i [...] coole aray,
So long, that at the last they found a place, of waters full cleare:
So pure and faire a Bath neuer was found many a yeare.
There shee went faire and gent,
Her to sport, as was her wonted sort:
In such desirous sort:,
Thus g [...]eth the report:
Diana dainteously began her selfe therein to bathe
And her body for to l [...]ue,
So curious and braue.
¶ As they in water stood,
Bathing their liuelie blood:
Acteon in the wood, chaunst to come by:
And vewe [...] their bodies bare,
[Page]Maruailing what they weare,
And stil deuoid of care, on them cast his eie:
But when the Nymphs had perceiued him, aloud then they cried,
Enclosed her, and thought to hide her skin, which he had spied:
But too true I tell you,
She seene was,
For in height she did passe,
Ech Dame of her race,
Harke then Acteons case:
Whē Diana did perceue, where Acteon did stand,
She took bowe in her hand,
And to shoot she began.
¶ As she began to shoot, Acteon ran about,
To hide he thought no boote, his sights were dim:
And as he thought to scape,
Changed was Acteons shape,
Such was vnluckie fate, yéelded to him:
For Diana brought it thus to passe, and plaied her part,
So that poore Acteon changed was to a [...]ugie Hart,
And did beare, naught but haire:
In this change,
Which is as true as strange,
And thus did he range,
[Page]So that his sorrowes importunate,
Had ended his life incontinent,
Had not Lady Venus grace, Lady Lady,
Pitied her poore seruants case, My déer Ladie.
¶ For when she saw the torments strong,
Wherewith the Knight was sore opprest,
Which he God knowes had suffered long,
Al through this Ladies mercilesse,
Of their desires she made exchange, Ladie, Ladie.
And wrought a myracle most strange, My deer Ladie.
¶ So that this Ladie faithfully,
Did loue this Knight aboue all other:
And he vnto the contrarie,
Did hate her then aboue all measure,
And pitifull she did complaine: ladie, ladie.
Requiring fauour, and might not obtaine. My déer ladie.
¶ But when she saw, that in no case,
She might vnto his loue attaine:
And that she could not finde some grace,
To ease her long enduring paine,
And y• his hart wold not remoue.
Without all cure he died for loue, My déer. Lady, ladi [...]
¶ Besides these matters maruelous,
One other thing I wil you tell:
Of one whose name was Narcissus,
A man whose beautie doth excel▪
[Page]Of natures gifts he had no misse, Lady, lady
He had y• whole of beauties blisse, My déere.
¶ So that out of manie a far Countrey,
I reade of manie a woman faire,
Did come this Narcislus to sée,
Who perished when they came there,
Through his default I say in fine, lady, lady
Who vnto loue would not incline. My deer.
¶ Whose disobedience vnto loue,
When vnto Venus it did appeare.
How that his hart would not remoue,
She punisht him as you shal heare:
A thing most strange forsooth it was, Ladie, Ladie.
Now harken how it came to posse, My déer.
¶ For when he went vpon a daie,
With other me in strange disguise,
Himself forsooth he did aray
In womans attire of a new deuise,
And ouer a bridge as he did go. Ladie, ladie.
In the water he sawe his own shadow, My.
¶ Which when he did perceiue and see,
A Ladie faire he saith it séemeth:
[...] himself that it was he,
And iudgde that it was Dianaes Nymph,
Who in the waters in such fashion, Lady, la
Did vse themselues for recreation, My deer.
¶ And through the beautie of whose looks,
Taken he was with such sond desire,
That after manie humble sutes,
[Page]Incontinent he did aspire.
Unto her grace him to refer,
Trusting y• merrie was in her, My déer, &c. Ladie, Ladie
¶ With armes displaid he took his race,
And leapt into the riuer there,
And thought his Ladie to imbrace,
[...]eing of himselfe, d [...]uoid of feare,
And there was drownd without redresse, Ladie, Ladie.
His crueltie rewarded was, with such follie.
¶ Loe, hereby you may perceiue,
How Venus can, and if she please,
Her disobedient Subiects grieue,
And make them drinke their owne disease,
Wherfore rebel not I you wish Lady, lady.
Least that your chaunce be worse than [...], if worse may be.
Finis.
The Louer cōplaineth the losse of his Ladie
To Cicilia Pauin.
HEart, what makes thée thus to be,
in extreame heauinesse?
If care do ca [...]se all thy distresse,
Why seekest thou not some redresse,
to ease thy carefulnesse?
Hath Cupid stroke in Uenerie,
Thy wofull corps in ieoperdie:
right wel then may I sob and crie,
Til that my Mistresse [...], my faith may [...]
Why would I cloake from her presence,
My loue and faithfull diligence?
[Page]And cowardly thus to die.
And cowardly thus to die.
¶ No, no, I wil shew my woe,
in this calamitie.
To her whom Nature shapte so frée:
With all Dianaes chastitie,
or Venus rare beautie:
Then shall I brace felicitie,
And liue in all prosperitie.
then leaue off this woe, let teares go,
thou shalt embrace thy Ladie deer [...] ioy▪
In these thy armes so louingly,
As Paris did faire Helenie.
By force of blinded boy.
By force of blinded boy.
¶ If Venus would grant vnto me,
such happinesse:
As she did vnto Troylus,
By help of his friend Pandarus,
To Cre [...]sids loue who worse,
Than all the women certainly:
That euer liued naturally.
Whose slight falsed faith, the storie saith,
Did bréed by plagues, her great and sore distresse,
For she became so leprosie,
That she did die in penurie:
Because she did transgresse.
Because she did transgresse.
¶ If she, I saie, wil me regard,
in this my ieoperdie,
[Page]I wil shew her fidelitie,
And eke declare her curtesie,
to Louers far and nie:
O heart how happie shouldst thou be,
When my Ladie doth smile on me:
Whose milde merie cheare,
Wil driue away feare,
Cleane from my brest, and set ioy in y• plac [...]
when I shall kisse so tenderly:
Her fingers small and slenderly,
which doth my heart solace, &c.
Therefore ye amorous imps who burne
so stil in Cupids fire,
Let this the force of my retire
Example be to your desire,
That so to loue aspire:
For I did make deniance,
And set her at defiance:
Which made me full wo, it chanced so,
Because I look at my mistresse so coy:
Therefore, when she is merily
Disposed, look you curteously:
Receiue her for your ioy.
Receiue her for your ioy.
Finis.
I. Tomson.
The Louer compareth some subtile Suters to the Hunter.
To the tune of the Painter.
WHen as the Hunter [...]oeth [...], with [...] in brace.
[Page]The Hart to hunt, and set about, with wilie trace,
He doth it more to see and view,
Her wilinesse (I tell you true.)
Her trips and skips, now here, now there,
With squats and flats, which hath no pere.
¶ More than to win or get the game to beare away:
He is not greedie of the same, (thus Hunters saie:
So some men hunt by hote desire,
To Venus Dames, and do require
With fauor to haue her, or els they wil die,
they loue her, & prooue her, and wot ye why?
¶ Forsooth to see her subtilnesse, & wily way,
Whē they (God knows) mean nothing lesse than they do say:
For when they sée they may her win,
They leaue then where they did begin
. they pra [...]e and make the matter nice,
And leaue her in fooles paradice.
¶ Wherefore of such (good Ladie now) wisely beware,
Least flinging fancies in their brow, do breed you care:
And at the first giue them the checke,
Least they at last giue you the geck,
And scornfully disdaine ye then,
In faith there are such kind of men.
¶ But Iam none of those indéed,
beléeue me now:
I am your man if you me néed,
I make a vow:
To serue you without doublenesse:
With feruent heart my owne mistresse,
Demaund me, commaund me, what please ye, and whan,
I wil be stil readie, as I am true [...].
A new Sonet of Pyramus and Thisbie.
To the, Downe right Squier.
YOu Dames (I say) that climbe the mount of Helicon,
Come on with me, and giue account, what hath béen don:
Come tell the chaunce ye Muses all, and dolefull newes,
Which on these Louers did befall, which I accuse.
In Babilon not long agone, a noble Prince did dwell:
whose daughter bright dimd ech ones sight, so farre she did excel.
¶ An other Lord of high reuowne, who had a sonne:
And dwelling there within the towne, great loue begun [...]e:
Pyramus this noble Knight,
I tel you true:
[Page]Who with the loue of Thisbie bright, did cares renue:
It came to passe, their secrets was, beknowne vnto them both:
And then in minde, they place do finde, where they their loue vnclothe.
¶ This loue they vse long tract of time, till it befell:
At last they promised to méet at prime, by Minus well:
Where they might louingly imbrace, in loues delight:
That he might sée his Thisbies face, and she his sight▪
In ioyful case, she approcht the place, where she her Pyramus
Had thought to viewd, but was renewd, to them most dolorous.
¶ Thus while she staies for Pyramus, there did procéed:
Out of the wood a Lion fierce, made Thisbie dréed:
And as in haste she fled awaie, her Mantle fine:
The Lion tare in stead of praie, till that the time
That Pyramus procéeded thus, and sée how lion tare
The Mantle this of Thisbie his, he [...]esperately doth fare.
¶ For why he thought the lion had, faire Thisbie slaine.
And then the beast with his bright blade, he slew certaine:
Then made he mone and said alas, (O wretched wight)
Now art thou in a woful case for Thisbie bright:
Oh Gods aboue, my faithfull loue shal neuer faile this néed:
For this my breath by fatall death, shal weaue Atropos thréed.
¶ Then from his sheathe he drew his blade, and to his hart
He thrust the point, and life did vade, with painfull smart:
Then Thisbie she from cabin came with pleasure great,
And to the well apase she ran, there for to treat:
And to discusse, to Pyramus of al her former feares.
And when slaine she, found him truly, she shed foorth bitter [...].
¶ When sorrow great that she had made, she took in hand
The bloudie knife, to end her life, by fatall hand.
You Ladies all, peruse and sée, the faithfulnesse,
[Page]How these two Louers did agrée, to die in distresse:
You Muses waile, and do not faile, but still do you lament:
These louers twaine, who with such paine, did die so well content.
Finis.
I. Tomson.
A Sonet of a Louer in the praise of his lady.
To Calen o Custure me: sung at euerie lines end.
WHē as I view your comly grace, Ca. &c
Your golden haires, your angels face:
Your azured veines much like the skies,
Your siluer téeth your Christall eies.
Your Corall lips, your crimson chéeks,
That Gods and men both loue and léekes.
¶ Your pretie mouth with diuers gifts,
Which driueth wise men to their shifts:
So braue, so fine, so trim, so yong,
With heauenlie wit and pleasant tongue,
That Pallas though she did excell,
Could frame ne tel a tale so well.
¶ Your voice so swéet, your necke so white,
your bodie fine and small in sight:
Your fingers long so nimble be,
To vtter foorth such harmonie,
As all the Muses for a space:
To sit and heare do giue you place.
¶ Your pretie foot with all the rest,
That may be seene or may be gest:
[Page]Doth beare such shape, that beautie may
Giue place to thée and go her way:
And Paris nowe must change his doome,
For Venus lo must giue thee roome.
¶ Whose gleams doth heat my hart as fier,
Although I burne, yet would I nier:
Within my selfe then can I say:
The night is gone, behold the day:
Behold the star so cleare and bright,
As dimmes the sight of Phoebus light:
¶ Whose fame by pen for to discriue,
Doth passe ech wight that is aliue:
Then how dare I with boldned face,
Presume to craue or wish your grace?
And thus amazed as I stand,
Not féeling sense, nor moouing hand.
¶ My soule with silence moouing sense,
Doth wish of God with reuerence,
Long life, and vertue you possesse:
To match those gifts of worthinesse,
And loue and pitie may be spide,
To be your chief and onely guide.
¶ A proper Sonet, Intituled, Maid, wil yon marrie.
To the Blacke Almaine.
MAid, wil you marie? I pray sir tarie,
I am not disposed to wed a:
For he y• shal haue me, wil neuer deny me
he shal haue my maidēhed a.
Why then you wil not wed me?
No sure sire I haue sped me,
[Page]You must go séeke some other wight,
That better may your heart delight.
For I am sped I tell you true,
beléeu me it gréeus me, I may not haue you,
To wed you & bed you as a woman shold be
¶ For if I could, be sure I would,
consent to your desire:
I would not doubt, to bring about,
ech thing you would require:
But promise now is made,
Which cannot be staide:
It is a womans honestie,
To kéep her promise faithfully.
And so I do meane til death to do.
Consider and gather, that this is true:
Choose it, and vse it, the honester you.
¶ But if you séek, for to misléeke,
with this that I haue done:
Or else disdaine, that I so plaine
this talke with you haue begone:
Farewell I wil not let you,
He [...] wel that gets you.
And sure I thinke your other friend,
Wil prooue a Cuckold in the end:
But he wil take héed if he be wise,
To watch you & catch you, with Argus eies,
Besetting and letting your wonted guise.
¶ Although the Cat doth winke a while,
yet sure she is not blinde:
[Page]It is the waie for to beguile,
the Mice that run behind:
And if she sée them runniug,
Then straightway she is comming:
Upon their head she claps her foote,
To striue with her it is no boote.
The seelie poore Mice dare neuer play,
She catcheth and snatcheth them euery day,
Yet whip they, & skip they, whē she is away.
¶ And if perhaps they fall in trap,
to death then must they yeeld:
They were better thē, to haue kept their den
than straie abroad the field:
But they that will be ranging,
Shall soone repent their changing:
And so shall you ere it be long,
Wherefore remember well my song:
And do not snuffe though I be plaine,
But cherily, merily, take the same.
For huffing & snuffing deserueth blame.
¶ For where you say you must obay,
the promise you haue made,
So sure as I wil neuer flie,
from that I haue said:
Therefore to them I leaue you,
Which gladly wil receiue you:
You must go choose some other mate,
According to your own estate.
For I do meane to liue in rest,
[Page]Go séek you, and léek you an other guest,
And choose him, and vse him, as you like best.
The ioy of Virginitie:
to, The Gods of loue
I Iudge and finde, how God doth minde,
to furnish, to furnish
his heauenly throne aboue.
With virgins pure, this am I sure,
without misse, without misse:
with other Saints he doth loue:
It is allowed as you may reade,
And eke auowed by Paul indéede,
Virginitie is accepted,
a thing high in Gods sight:
Though marriage is selected,
a thing to be most right:
yet must I praise Virginitie,
For I would faine a Uirgin be.
¶ You Uirgins pure, your selues assure,
and credite, and credite:
great ioy you shall possesse,
Which I (God knows) cannot disclose,
nor spreade it, nor spreade it,
ne yet by pen expresse.
Nor halfe the ioies that you shall finde,
I can not iudge for you assignde:
When hence your ghost shall yéelded be,
into the throne of blisse:
In chaste and pure Uirginitie,
for thought or deed y wisse:
Wher you shal raign, with God on hie
For euermore eternally.
¶ And when doubtlesse, you shal possesse,
with Iesus, with Iesus,
these ioies celestiall.
Then Ladie Fame, wil blaze your name,
amongst vs, amongst vs,
which then on earth raigne shal.
She wil resound in euerie coast,
By trumpet sound, and wil you boast?
So that although you do depart
This mortall life so vaine:
Your chastitie in euerie heart,
by memorie shall remaine.
But hard it is, I saie no more,
To finde an hundreth in a score.
Finis.
¶ A warning for Wooers, that they be not ouer hastie, nor deceiued with womens beautie.
To, Salisburie Plaine.
YE louing wormes come learne of me
The plagues to leaue that linked be:
The grudge, the grief, the gret anoy,
The fickle faith, the fading ioy:
in time, take béed,
In fruitlesse soile sow not thy seed:
buie not, with cost,
the thing that y [...]elds but labour lost.
¶ If Cupids dart do chance to light,
So that affection dimmes thy sight,
Then raise vp reason by and by,
With skill thy heart to fortifie
[Page]Where is a breach,
Oft times too late doth come the Leach:
Sparks are put out,
when fornace flames do rage about.
¶ Thine owne delay must win the field,
When lust doth leade thy heart to yeeld:
When steed is stolne, who makes al fast,
May go on foot for al his haste:
In time shut gate,
For had I wist, doth come too late,
Fast bind, fast find,
Repentance alwaies commeth behind.
¶ The Syrens times oft time beguiles,
So doth the teares of Crocodiles:
But who so learnes Vlysses lore,
May passe the seas, and win the shore.
Stop eares, stand fast,
Through Cupids trips, thou shalt him cast:
Flie baits, shun hookes,
Be thou not snarde with louely lookes.
¶ Where Venus hath the maisterie,
There loue hath lost her libertie:
where loue doth win the victorie,
The fort is sackt with crueltie.
First look, then leap,
In suretie so your shinnes you kéepe:
The snake doth sting,
That lurking lieth with hissing.
UUhere Cupids fort hath made a waie,
There graue aduise doth beare no swaie,
[Page]Where Loue doth raigne and rule the roste,
There reason is exilde the coast:
Like all, loue none, except ye vse discretion.
First try, thē trust, be not deceiued with sinful lust,
¶ Marke Priams sonne, his fond deuise
When Venus did obtaine the price:
For Pallas skil and Iunoes strength,
He chose that bred his bane at length.
Choos wit, leaue wil, let Helen be wt Paris stil:
Amis goeth al, wher fācie forceth fooles to fall.
¶ Where was there found a happier wight,
Than Troylus was til loue did light?
What was the end of Romeus.
Did he not die like Piramus
who baths in blis? let him be mindful of Iphis
who séeks to plese, may riddē be like Hercules.
¶ I lothe to tel the péeuish brawles,
And fond delights of Cupids thrawles,
Like momish mates of Midas mood,
They gape to get that doth no good:
Now down, now vp as tapsters vse to tosse ye Cup
One bréedeth ioy, another breeds as great anoy
¶ Some loue for wealth, and some for hue,
And none of both these loues are true.
For when the Mil hath lost hir sailes,
Then must the Miller lose his vailes:
Of grasse commeth hay,
And flowers faire wil soon decay:
Of ripe commeth rotten,
In age al beautie is forgotten.
[Page]Some loueth too hie, and some too lowe,
And of them both great griefs do grow,
And some do loue the common sort:
And common folke vse common sport.
Looke not too hie,
Least that a chip fall in thine eie:
But hie or lowe,
Ye may be sure she is a shrow.
¶ But sirs, I vse to tell no tales,
Ech fish that swims doth not beare scales,
In euerie hedge I finde not thornes:
Nor euerie beast doth carrie hornes:
I saie not so,
That euerie woman causeth wo:
That were too broad,
Who loueth not venom must shun the tode.
¶ Who vseth still the truth to tel,
May blamed be though he saie wel:
Say Crowe is white, and snowe is blacke,
Lay not the fault on womans backe,
Thousands were good,
But few scapte drowning in Noes flood:
Most are wel bent,
I must say so, least I be shent.
Finis.
¶ An excellent Song of an outcast Louer.
To, All in a Garden green.
MY fancie did I fixe, in faithful forme and frame:
in hope ther shuld no blustring blast haue power to moue the same.
¶ And as the Gods do know, and world can witnesse beare:
I neuer serued other Saint, nor Idoll other where.
¶ But one, and that was she, whom I in heart did shrine:
And made account that pretious pearle, and iewel rich was mine.
¶ No toile, nor labour great, could wearie me her [...]in:
For stil I had a Iasons heart, the golden fleece io win.
¶ And sure my sute was hearde, I spent no time in vaine:
A grant of friendship at her hand, I got to quite my paine.
With solemne vowe and othe. was knit the True-loue knot,
And friendly did we treat of loue, as place and time we got.
¶ Now would we send our sighes, as far as they might go,
Now would we worke with open signes, to blaze our inward wo.
¶ Now rings and tokens too, renude our friendship stil,
And ech deuice that could be wrought, exprest our plaine goodwill,
True meaning went withall, it cannot be denide:
[Page]Performance of the promise past, was hopte for of ech side:
¶ And lookt for out of hand: such vowes did we two make,
As God himself had present been, record thereof to take.
¶ And for my part I sweare, by all the Gods aboue,
I neuer thought of other friend, nor sought for other loue.
¶ The same consent in her, I saw ful oft appeare,
If eies could sée, or head could iudge, or eare had power to heare.
¶ Yet loe words are but winde, all other new come guest,
Hath won her fauour (as I feare) as fancies rise in brest.
Her friend that wel deserues, is out of countenaunce quite,
She makes the game to sée me shoot, while others hit the white.
He way wel beat the bush, as manie thousands doo:
And misse the birds, and haply loose his part of feathers too.
¶ He hops without the ring, yet daunceth on the trace,
When some come after soft and faire, a heauie hobling pace.
¶ In these vnconstant daies, such troth these women haue:
As wauering as the aspen leaf they are, so God me sane.
¶ For no deserts of men are weid, what ere they be:
For in a mood their minds are led with new delights we sée.
¶ The guiltlesse goeth to wrack, the gorgeous peacocks gay:
They do estéem vpon no cause, and turne their friends away.
¶ I blame not al for one, some flowers grow by the wéeds,
Some are as sure as lock and key, and iust of words and deeds.
¶ And yet of one I waile, of one I crie and plaine:
And for her sake shall neuer none, so nip my heart againe:
¶ If for offence or fault, I had béen floong at héele:
The lesse had béen my bitter smart, and gnawing greefe I feele.
¶ But being once reteind, a friend by her consent:
And after that to be disdaind, when best good will I ment,
¶ I take it nothing well, for if my power could show,
[Page]With Larum bel and open crie, the world should throughly know.
The complaint of a woman Louer,
To the tune of, Raging loue.
THough wisdom wold I should refrain,
My heaped cares here to vnfold:
Good Ladies yet my inward paine,
So pricketh me I haue no holde:
But that I must my griefe bewray,
Bedewed in teares with doleful tunes,
That you may heare, and after say,
Loe, this is she whom loue consumes.
¶ My grief doth grow by my desire.
To fancie him that [...]ormes my woe:
He naught regards my flaming fire,
Alas why doth he serue me so?
Whose fained teares I did beléeue,
And wept to heare his wai [...]ing voice,
But how, alas, too soon I preeue,
Al men are false, there is no choice.
¶ Had euer woman such reward,
At anie time for her goodwill?
Had euer woman hap so hard,
So cruelly for loue to spill?
What paps (alas) did giue him food,
That thus vnkindly workes my wo?
What beast is of so cruell moode,
to hate the hart that loues [...] ▪
¶ Like as the simple [...] tr [...]e,
An mourning [...] [...] spend the day.
To thin [...]e how he did [...] betray:
And when my weary [...]ommes wol [...] re [...]t,
My [...] [...] hath dreadfull [...],
Thus [...] gree [...]es my hart doth [...]
That [...] ▪ [...] [...] run down like [...] ▪
¶ And yet, full oft it dooth me good,
To [...] the place where he hath beene,
To kisse the ground whereon he stoode,
When he (alas) my loue did win.
To kisse the Bed wheron we laye [...]
Now may I thinke vnto my paine▪
O [...] place full oft I say:
Render to me my loue againe,
¶ But all is lost that may not be,
Another dooth possesse my right▪
His cruell hart, d [...]sdaineth me,
New loue hath put the olde, to flight:
He loues to see my watered eyes,
and laughes to see how I do pine:
No words can well my [...]oes comprise,
alas what griefe is like to mine?
¶ You comly [...] beware by me,
To r [...]e sweete words of fickle trust:
For I may well example [...]e,
How filed talke oft prooues vniust
But [...] deceipt [...] to my pay,
Good Ladyes helpe my [...] [...],
That you may here and after say:
Lo [...] this is she whom loue consumes▪
A proper sonet, Intituled: I smile to see how you deuise.
To anie pleasant tune.
I Smile to sée how you deuise,
New masking nets my eies to bleare:
Your self you cannot so disguise:
[...]ut as you are, you must appeare.
¶ your priuie winkes at boord I sée,
And how you set your rouing mind:
your selfe you cannot hide from me,
Although I wincke, I am not blind.
¶ The secret sighs and fained cheare,
That oft doth paine thy carefull brest:
To me right plainly doth appeare,
I sée in whom thy hart doth rest.
¶ And though thou makest a fained vow,
That loue no more thy heart should nip,
yet think I know as well as thou,
The fickle helm doth guide the ship.
¶ The Salamander in the fire,
By course of kinde doth bathe his limmes:
The floting Fish taketh his desire,
In running streams whereas he swimmes.
¶ So thou in change dost take delight,
Ful wel I know thy slipperie kinde:
In vaine thou séemst to dim my sight,
Thy rowling eies bewraieth thy minde.
¶ I sée him smile [...]hat doth possesse
Thy loue which once I honoured most:
If he be wise, he may well gesse,
[...]hy lo [...]e soon [...], wil soon [...]e [...].
¶ And [...]ith thou canst no man intice,
That he should stil loue thee alone:
Thy beautie now hath lost her price,
I see thy sauorie sent is gone.
¶ Therefore leaue off thy wonted plaie,
But, as thou art, thou wilt appeare,
Unlesse thou canst deuise a waie,
To dark the Sun that shines so cleare.
¶ And kéep thy friend that thou hast won,
In trueth to him thy loue supplie,
Least he at length as I haue done,
Take off thy Belles and let thée flée.
A Sonet of two faithfull Louers, exhorting one another to be constant.
To the tune of Kypascie.
THe famous Prince of Macedon,
whose wars m [...]rest his worthy [...]
Triumph [...]n not so, when he had won
By conquest great, immortall fame,
As I re [...]oice, reioi [...]e,
For thée, my choice, with heart and voic [...],
Since thou art mine,
Whom, long to loue, the Gods assigne.
¶ Th [...] secret flames of this my loue,
The stars had wrought ere I was born [...],
Whose [...] force my hart doth moue,
And eke my will so sure hath sworne▪
that Fortunes lore, no more,
though I therefore, did life abhore:
Shall neuer make,
Forgetful dewes my heat to slake.
¶ If that I false my faith to the [...],
Or seeke [...]o chaunge for any newe:
If thoughts appeare so ill in me,
If thou thy life shall iustly [...]ew,
Such [...] of woe, of woe:
As friende or [...], might to me showe:
Be [...]de [...] [...]
Or muste if it may [...]y to man.
¶ Then let vs ioy in this ou [...] [...]oue:
In spi [...]e of Fortunes wrath [...] [...]:
[...],
One [...]oue in [...] [...] still appeare:
[...]
Pi [...]sus [...] [...] my [...]ne T [...]isbie,
So thou againe▪
[...].
A proper new Dity Intituled [...] Loue and al his lawes.
To [...] [...] [...] [...]mber me.
SUch [...] from thy loue vp [...] yéelde,
Such broken [...], such hope [...]sure,
Thy call [...] [...] hath me [...].
That I vn [...]th [...]an well i [...]dure:
But [...] ( [...]) as I haue [...]use,
F [...] vpon Loue and all his [...]awes.
¶ Like [...] [...] and g [...]ue,
[...] St [...]e wa [...]s, kéep [...] from his loue,
And as the [...] [...] [...],
A thousand [...], for th [...]e I [...]oue,
Yet thou a [...]uelt [...]igers▪ [...],
All [...] the hart, whom thou maist h [...]lp.
¶ A craggie [...]ocke, thy Cra [...]e, was,
And Tigers milke s [...]e was thy foode.
[...]herby [...]ame Nature br [...]ought to passe,
That like the Nu [...]se should be thy [...]:
[...] and vn [...]inde, [...] [...] and fell,
to [...] [...] that loues th [...]e well.
¶ The Cro [...]ile with [...] teares,
The [...] [...]ot so [...] [...]:
As thou [...] [...] [...] [...] [...].
[...]
that I may [...] [...] [...],
UUo worth the [...], [...] [...]o loue.
¶ Si [...] th [...] [...]ast [...] t [...] worke my [...]
And h [...]st [...] will my wealth to way:
Farewell [...]kinde, I [...]ill keepe [...]acke▪
Such toyes as may my helth decay:
and [...] will cry as I haue cause.
Fie vpon Loue and all his lawes.
The Louer being wound [...] with his [...] beut [...] requireth [...] [...]o
To the tune of Apelle [...].
THe [...] sparkes of th [...]se two eyes,
my wounded hart hath [...]et on [...] [...]
[...]
[...],
with sighs and [...] tears I [...]
my deare on me some pitie han [...].
¶ In [...] thée, I [...] such ioy,
As one that sought his quiet rest:
Untill I felt the [...] [...]oy,
[Page]Ay [...]lickring in my captiue brest:
Since that time loe, in d [...]epe dispaire,
all voide of ioy, my time I weare.
¶ The wofull prisoner Palemon.
And Troylus eke kinge Pyramus sonne,
Constrained by loue did neuer mone:
As I my déer for thée haue done.
Let pitie then requite my paines,
My life and death in thée remaines.
¶ If constant loue may reap [...] his hire,
And faith vnfained may purchace:
Great hope I haue to my desire.
Pour gentle hart wil grant me g [...]ace,
Til then (my déer) in few ward [...] plaine,
In pensiue thoughts I shall remaine.
The lamentation of a woman being wrongfully de [...]med.
To the tune of Damon & Pi [...]ias.
YOu Ladies falsly déemd, of anie fault or crime:
Command your pensiue harts to help this [...]olefull tune of mine:
For spitefull men there are, that faults would fain e [...]pie:
Alas, what heart would heare their talke, but willingly would die.
¶ I waile o [...]t times in woe, and curse mine houre of birth,
Such slanderous pangs do me oppresse, when others ioy in mirth:
[Page]Belike it was ordaind to be my destinie.
Alas what heart would heare their talk, &c.
¶ A thousand good women, haue guiltlesse béen accusde:
For verie spite, although that they, their bodies neuer abusde:
the godly Susāna accused was falsly alas &c.
¶ The poisoned Pancal ier, ful falsly did accuse
The good Dutchesse of Sauoy, [...]ecause she did refuse.
To grant vnto his loue, that was so vngodlie. Alas what, &c
¶ Such false dissembling men, stoong with Alectos dart:
Must needs haue place to spit their spite, vpon some guiltlesse hart:
Therefore, I must be pleasde, that they triumph on me, Alas, &c.
¶ Therefore, Lord, I thee pray, the like death downe to send,
Upon these false suspected men, or else their minds t'amend:
As thou hast done [...]ofore, vnto these persons thrée. Alas what, &c.
A proper Song, Intituled: Fain wold I haue a pretie thing to giue vnto my Ladie.
To the tune of lustie Gallant.
¶ Fain would I haue a pretie thing,
to giue vnto my Ladie:
[Page]I name no thing, nor I meane no thing,
But as pretie a thing as may bee.
TWentie iorneyes would I make,
and twentie waies would hie me,
To make aduenture for her sake,
to set so [...]e matter by me:
But I would [...]aine haue a pretie thing, [...],
I name nothing, nor I meane nothing, &c.
¶ Some do long for pretie [...]nackes,
and some for straunge deuices:
God send me that my Ladie lackes.
I care not what the price is, thus [...]aine [...]
¶ Some [...]oe here, and some go there,
wheare ga [...]es [...]e not geason:
And I goe gaping euery where,
but still come out of season. Yet faine, &c.
¶ I walke the towne, and tread the streete,
in euery corner seeking:
The pretie thinge I cannot méete,
[...]hats for my Ladies liking. Faine, [...]
¶ The Merce [...]s [...]ull me [...]oing by,
the Silkie wiues say what lacke [...]
The thing you haue not, then say I
ye foolish fóoles, go packe [...]e. But fai [...] [...]
¶ It is not all the Silke in Cheape,
nor all the golden treasure:
Nor twen [...]e Bushels on a heape,
[...] [...]o my Ladie [...]e asure. Put [...]aine, &c.
¶ The Grauers of the golden showes,
with Iuelles [...]o [...] me.
they do nothing but let me: But faine, &c.
¶ But were it in the wit of man,
by any meanes to make it.
I c [...]ld for Money buy it than,
and say, fai [...]e [...] [...]ake it. Thus, fain, &c.
¶ O Lady, what [...] [...]ke is this:
that my [...] willin [...] [...]isse t [...]:
To finde what pre [...]ie thing it is,
that my good Lady [...].
Thus fain wold I haue had this preti thing
to giue vnto my Ladie [...]
[...]
[...]
A proper wooing Song in [...]tuled: Ma [...]de [...] a loue me: ye or no?
To the tune of the M [...]rchaunts Daug [...]ter went ouer the [...]elde.
My [...]yde will ye loue me yea or no?
tell me the trothe, and let me go [...].
It can be no [...]esse th [...]n a sinfull deed,
trust me truely.
To [...]inger a Louer that lookes to [...],
in due time [...].
¶ [...]ou Maids that thinke your [...] as [...]ne,
As Venus and all the Ma [...]es [...]
The father himselfe whē he first made mā
trust me truely:
Made you for his help whē the world began
in due time duely.
[...] [...]
¶ Then sith Gods wil was euen so.
Why should you disdaine you Louer the▪
But rather with a willing heart,
Loue him truely?
For in so doing, you do but your part,
Let reason rule ye.
¶ Consider (swéet) what sighs and sobbes,
Do nip my heart with cruell throbbes,
And al (my deer) for the loue of you,
Trust me truly:
But I hope that you wil soone mercie show,
In due time duely.
¶ If that you do my case well way,
And show some signe whereby I may
Haue some good hope of your good grace,
Trust me truely:
I count my selfe in a blessed case,
Let reason rule ye.
¶ And for my part, whilst I do liue,
To loue you most faithfully, my hād I giue,
Forsaking all other, for your swéet sake,
Trust me truly:
In token whereof, my troth I betake,
to your selfe most duely.
¶ And though for this time we must depart,
yet kéep you this ring tru token of my hart,
Til time do serue, we meet againe,
Let reason rule ye.
Whē an answer of cōfort, I trust to obtain,
In due time duly.
[Page]Now must I depart with sighing teares,
With sobbing heart and burning eares:
Pale in the face, and faint as I may,
trust me truly:
But I hope our next méeting, a ioyfull day,
in due time duly.
The painefull plight of a Louer oppressed with the beautifull looks of his Lady.
To the tune of, I loued her ouer wel.
VVHē as thy eies, ye wretched spies
did breed my cause of care:
And sisters thrée did full agrée,
my fatall thréed to spare.
Then let these words ingrauen be,
on toomb whereas I lie,
That here lies one whom spiteful loue,
hath caused for to die.
¶ Somtimes I spend the night to end,
in dolors and in woe:
Somtime againe vnto my pain,
my chiefest ioy doth grow.
When as in minde, thy shape I finde,
as fancie doth me tell:
Whome nowe I knowe, as proofe, doth show
I loued thée ouer wel.
¶ How oft within my wreathed arme,
desired I to folde:
Thy Christall corps, of whom I ioyed,
more dearer than of golde,
[Page]But now dosdaome, dooth breede my paine,
and thou [...]anst not denie:
But that I loued thée ouer well:
that caused me to d [...]e.
The [...] that serut [...] his [...] will,
in [...] here and there▪
The moyling Horse, that labours still,
his burthen great to [...]
In [...]ew of pain [...] ▪ [...] againe,
of him which did him owe:
As Natures heast, [...] [...] and lea [...]t
them thank of [...] of to show [...].
¶ The Lyon and the [...] [...],
as Nature doth then [...]:
For [...] like loue [...] [...] gaine:
in Stories [...] finde::
Those [...] [...] both [...] & [...]ame,
of [...] [...] [...] [...]:
But thy reply, willis [...] to [...]ie.
that loued thee ouer [...].
¶ Therfore, my deare [...] Darling [...],
ensample [...] [...] ▪
Which equally wi [...]h [...] [...],
their louing [...] [...]
And giue him [...] [...] death we
[...]
[...]
which loued [...] [...].
¶ Then shall thy [...] [...] [...] [...] same,
where euer that they goe:
[Page]And wish for ay, as for thy pay,
all Nestors yeares to know:
And I no lesse then all the rest,
should wish thée health for aye:
Because thou hast heard my request,
and saued me from decay.
A faithfull vow of two constant Louers
To the new Rogero.
SHall distance part our loue,
or daily choice of chaunge?
Or sprites below, or Gods aboue,
haue power▪ to ma [...]e vs straunge:
¶ No nothing here on earth,
that kinde hath made or wrought,
Shall force me to forget.
goodwill so dearely bought,
¶ And for my part I vow,
to serue for terme of life:
Which promise may compare with her,
which was Vlisses wife.
¶ Which vow if I [...] breake,
let vengeance on me fall,
Eche plague that on the earth may raigne,
I aske not one, but all.
¶ Though time may bréede suspect,
to fill your hart with [...]oyes:
And absence may a [...] breede,
to let your wished ioyes:
¶ Yet thinke I haue a [...],
and honesty to keepe:
[Page]And weigh the time your loue hath dwelt,
within my hart so deep.
¶And peise the words I spake,
and marke my countenance then:
And let not slip no earnest sigh,
if thou remember can.
¶ At least forget no teares,
that trickled downe my face:
And marke howe oft I wroong your hand,
and blushed all the space.
¶Remember how I sware,
and strook therewith my brest:
In witnesse when thou partst me fro,
my heart with thée should rest.
¶Thinke on the eger lookes,
full loth to leaue thy sight,
That made the signes when that she list,
to like no other wight.
¶If this be out of thought,
yet call to minde againe,
The busie sute, the much adoe,
the labour and the paine,
¶That at the first I had,
[...]re thy good will I gate:
And think how for thy loue alone,
I purchase partly hate.
¶But all is one with me,
my heart so setled is:
No friend, nor foe, nor want of wealth,
shall neuer hurt in this.
¶Be constant now therefore,
and faithfull to the end?
Be carefull how we both may do,
to be ech others friend.
¶Wish frée and cleane consent,
two hearts in one I knit:
Which for my part, I vow to kéep,
and promise not to flit,
¶Now let this vow be kept,
exchange thy heart for mine:
So shal two harts be in one breast,
and both of them be thine.
A sorrowfull Sonet,
To the tune of Labandala Shot.
I Waile in wo, I plunge in pain,
with sorowing sobs, I do complain,
With wallowing waues I wish to die,
I languish sore whereas I lie,
In feare I faint in hope I holde,
With ruthe I runne, I was too bolde:
As lucklesse lot assigned me,
in dangerous dale of destinie:
Hope bids me smile, Feare bids me wéep,
My séelie soule thus Care doth kéep,
¶Yea too too late I do repent,
the youthful yeares that I haue spent,
The retch lesse race of carelesse kinde,
which hath bewitcht my woful minde.
[Page]Such is the chaunce, such is the state,
Of those that trust too much to fate.
No braggiug boast of gentle blood,
What so he be, can do thee good:
No wit, no strength, nor beauties hue,
No friendly sute can death eschue.
¶The dismall day hath had his wil,
And iustice seekes my life to spill:
Reuengement craues by rigorous law,
Whereof I little stood in a we:
The dolefull doom to end my life,
Bedect with care and worldlie strife:
And frowuing iudge hath giuen his doome.
O gentle death thou art welcome:
The losse of life, I do not feare.
Then welcome death, the end of care.
¶O prisoners poore, in dungeon déep,
Which passe the night in slumbring sleep:
Wel may you rue your youthful race.
And now lament your cursed cace,
Content your selfe with your estate,
I mpute no shame to fickle fate:
With wrong attempts, increase no wealth,
Regard the state of prosperous health:
And think on me, when I am dead:
Whom such delights haue lewdly led.
¶My friend and parents, where euer you be
Full little do you thinke on me:
My mother milde, and dame so déer:
Thy louing childe, is fettred héer:
[Page]Would God I had, I wish too late,
Been bred and borne of meaner estate:
Or else, would God my rechlesse eare,
Had béen obedient for to heare,
Your sage aduice and counsel true:
But in the Lord parents adue.
¶You valiant hearts of youthfull train,
Which heard my heauie heart complain:
A good example take by me,
Which runne the race where euer you be:
trust not too much to bilbow blade,
nor yet to fortunes fickle trade.
Hoist not your sailes no more in winde,
Least that some rocke, you chaunce to finde,
or else be driuen to Lybia land,
whereas the Barque may sinck in sand.
¶You students all that present be,
To view my fatall destinie,
would God I could requite your pain,
wherein you labour, although in vain,
if mightie God would think it good,
to spare my life and vitall blood,
[...] your profered curtesie,
[...]ld remaine most stedfastly,
Your seruant true in deed and word,
But welcome death as please the Lord.
¶Yea welcome death, the end of woe,
And farewell life, my fatall soe:
Yea welcome death, the end of strife,
Adue the care of mortall life,
[Page]For though this life doth fléet away,
In heauen I hope to liue for ay:
A place of ioy and perfect rest,
Which Christ hath purchaste for the best:
Til that we méet in heauen most hiest:
Adue, farewell in Iesu Christ.
A proper Sonet, of an vnkinde Damsell, to to her faithful Louer.
To, the nine Muses.
THe ofter that I view and sée,
That pleasant face and faire beautie,
whereto my heart is bound:
The néer my Mistresse is to me,
My health is farthest off I see:
and fresher is my wound:
Like as the flame doth quench by fire,
or streams consume by raigne,
So doth the sight that I desire,
appease my grief and paine:
Like a flie that doth hie,
and haste iuto the fire:
So in brief, findes her grief,
that thought to sport aspire.
¶ When first I saw those Christal [...]
I little thought on beauties beams:
swéet venom to haue found,
But wilful wil did prick me foorth,
Perforce to take my grief in woorth,
that causd my mortall wound:
And Cupid blind compeld me so,
my fruitlesse hope to hide?
[Page]Wherein remaind my bitter wo:
h [...]hus stil he did me guide ▪
Then his dart, to my hart,
he slung with cruell fist:
Whose poison fel, I know right wel,
no louer may resist.
¶ Thus vainly stil, I frame my sute,
Of ill sowen seeds, such is the frute,
experience doth it show:
The fault is hers the pain is mine,
And thus my sentence I define,
I hapned on a shrow:
And now beware, ye yongmen all,
Example take by mée:
Least beauties bait in Cupids thrall,
do catch you priuily:
So stay you, I pray you,
and marke you my great wrong,
Forsaken, not taken,
thus end I now my song.
The Louer complaineth the absence of his Ladie, wisheth for death.
To, the new Almaine.
SIth spitefull spite hath spide her time,
my wished ioies to end:
And drowping dread hath driuen me now
from my new chosen friend:
I can but waile the want,
of this my former ioie:
Sith spiteful force hath sought so long,
my blisse for to annoie.
¶ But though it be our chance
asunder for to be,
My heart in pawne til we do méet,
Shal stil remaine with thee:
And then we shall [...],
our sugred pleasures past:
And loue that loue, that séekes no change,
whilst life in vs do last.
¶ Perhaps my absence may,
or else some other let:
By choi [...]e of change, cause thée my déer,
out former loue forget:
And thou renounce the oth,
which e [...]st thou vowdst to me:
My déerest blood in recompence,
thou sure s [...]onldst shortly see.
A thousand sighs to sēd to thee I wil not let,
Ne to be waile the l [...]sse of thee, I neuer will forget
But stil suppose I see,
the same before my face:
And louingly betwéen my armes,
thy corps I do embrace.
¶ Thus fe [...]d I fancie stil,
for lacke of greater ioy:
With such like thoughts, which daily doth,
my wo [...]ull heart annoy:
thus stil in hope I liue,
my wished ioies to haue:
And in dispaire oft time I wish,
my feeble Corps in graue.
¶ This is the life I leade, til I thée sée again
And so wil do, til dreadful death,
do seek to ease my paine,
whō rather I do wish, by force to end in wo,
than for to liue in happie state, thy loue for to forgo.
¶ And thus farewell my déer,
with whom my heart shall rest,
Remember him that this did write,
sith he doth loue thée best:
And wil [...]il gréedie death,
my daies do shorten now:
Farewel my dear, loe here my faith
and troth to thee I vow.
Finis.
The Louer compareth him self to the painful Falcouer.
To the tune, I loued her ouer wel.
THe soaring hawk from fist that flies, her Falconer doth constraine:
Sometime to range the ground vnknown, to find her out againe:
And if by sight or sound of vell, his falcon he may sée:
wo ho he cries, with cheerful voice, the gladdest man is he.
¶ By Lure then in finest sort, he seekes to bring her in:
But if that she, ful gorged be, he can not so her win:
Although her becks and ven [...]ing ele [...], she manie proffers makes:
[Page]Wo ho ho he cries, awaie she flies, and so her leaue she takes.
¶ This wofull man with wearie limmes, runnes wandring round about:
At length by noise of chattering Pies, his hawke againe found out
His heart was glad his eies had seen, his falcon swift of flight:
Wo ho ho he cries, she emptie gorgde, vpon his Lure doth light.
¶ How glad was then the falconer there, no pen nor tongue can tel:
He swam in blisse that lately felt like paines of cruel hel.
His hand somtime vpon her train, somtime vpon her brest:
Wo ho ho he cries with chearfull voice, his heart was now at rest,
¶ My déer likewise, beholde thy loue, what paines he doth indure:
And now at length let pitie moue, to stoup▪ vnto his Lure.
A hood of silk, and siluer belles, new gifts I promise thee:
Wo ho ho, I crie, I come then saie, make me as glad as hée.
FINIS.