CERTAINE WORTHYE MANV­script Poems of great Antiquitie Re­serued long in the Studie of a Northfolke Gentle­man. And now first published By J. S.

1 The statly tragedy of Guistard and Sismond.

2 The Northren Mothers Blessing.

3 The way to Thrifte.


Imprinted at London for R. D. 1597.

To the worthiest Poet Maister Ed. Spenser.

THE STATELIE Tragedie of Guistard and Sismond in two Bookes.

The first Booke.

TANCREDE the noble Prince of Salurne▪
Flowre of Knighthood, and myrrour of prowesse,
The which long time his people did gouerne
Wittilie by benignitie and gentlenesse,
Iche man reioyced of his great noblesse:
Discreete in all thing that was iudiciall,
And euermore Prince-like in things imperiall.
His law he kept iustly through his Prouince,
Rigorous to vice, yet bounteous to all,
And mercifull als as euer was any Prince,
And shortly as my Doctor makis rehearsall,
His fame had neuer spot in all his gouernall,
Til hasty cruelnesse procured in greate yre
The fatall death of tweyne that loue had set on fyre.
A wife he toke, which come of blood Royall,
But of what prince or yet of what linage,
What was her name, or what men did her call,
Nought sayes mine Author▪ But of high parage
Men may well know, that thus in marryage
Was ioyned with so high a Prince as was Tancrede:
Therefore I passe ouer & take there of none heed.
This noble Prince Tancrede had neuer issue
In time of all his life to be his heire
Saue only a doughter whome Nature & vertue
Excellently indued, so was shee good and fayre.
But ôcruel destiny that mirth does oft appeyre,
And after great gladnes maketh men to morne!
Better had Tancrede bene that childe had neuer be borne.
But all that was full ferre fro his minde,
He red not in the booke of her Destinye,
Her fatall chaunce was to him derke and blinde;
Let all this passe: This childe was put to noiye,
Daily she increased in fauour and beauté
So that when her nonage passed and her youth
Her noble fame & beautè was in ich mans mouth.
If I should discriue this beauteous creature▪
Nature had her specially in remembrance▪
For she was wel fetured & seemly of stature,
Her chere was ruddy according to pleasaunce,
Aspere it was to louers her goodly countenance,
Her beautie not made be signement ne other gere
But of her kinde as Nature gaue to her.
She excellid in beauté Vlixes Ladie fayre
Penelope of Greece, and eke fayre Helene:
Hypolita also, and Emely her sister
Might not compare with her, nor Polixyne:
Instedfast loue she passed Dido the Queene;
Faithfull and true without daungerous disdaine,
Curteys and deboneyre, she was not sullein.
As for to speake of her pregnant wit,
Her perfite minde, and her intelligence,
No thing was so heard, but she conceiued it;
In ferre sottell casting she had experience:
What should I say more but shortly in sentence,
She knew more happily than was expedient
Vnto any woman, or ellis conuenient.
Like as the vnhappie fader ofyssue had no more,
But this child onely, so loued he her truely:
His heart, his mind, his loue was set on her so sore,
That if she were absēt him thought he shuld die;
So that in his minde he is determind vtterly
Euer to keepe his daughter with him in his sight,
And neuer to graunt her in marriage to no wight:
Tho Princys royall, to whome of high fauour
Fortune had grauntit great inheritance,
Desyren this feyre Lady to their Paramour
Euer to be true withouten variance
And so by matrimony to make Aliance.
But tho Cupid hit them with his firie dart
Yet nolde her fader suffer her to depart.
So shortly for to tell, this maide fro her desire
Was also needly compellit to abstaine:
Tho lustie youth and corage brent her as fyre,
Yet mought she neuer pleasure of her loue at­taine,
But euer contemned, still liuing in paine
Till many of her lustie yeris were agoo,
Her owne cruell fader did her all this woo▪
It fortund in a time I wot not in what wise
Wheder that her fader had compassion
Vpon her great woe, or ellis for som promise
Of good riches, or of possession,
But shortly to Champayn the Dukes sonne
He graunted his doughter to haue in marriage;
A man of blood royall and of high parage.
It needith not rehers the rich Apparell
Of those two louers the day of their wedding:
Or to my purpose what may hit auaile
To tell of the curious feest, and the guyding?
All this I passe ouer, and make notarying:
I speke not of the myrth & melody that was there,
But for a conclusion, thus wedded they were.
Of sorrowfull morning now is the clowdie night
By the fyre of loue driuen farre away,
The feruēt sun of plesance shineth now fulbright,
His fresh lustie beames hath turned night to day,
Now may she dāce & sing now hath she lust to play▪
For euer after mourning the mirth is the sweter,
And after great sorrow the ioy shalbe the greater.
But as lustie Phoebus with his fierie beames
When his golden Carrehath raught into the west,
Anon he withdrawes his hote brenning streames
And then aperith Phoebe out of her cloudynest,
Then comes the night when al men drawn to rest,
Vntill on the morrow that Lucifer appeare
Called the Day-starre, the daies messengere.
Right so the feruent Sun of her lusty pleasance.
Was wrapped with weeping of the cloudy raine:
For within little space of continuance
After their wedding, Death parted hem tweyne,
I wot not by what meane: her Lord her soueraine
By sicknesse or by battell I can no knowlech haue,
But shortly this Duke-is son is dede in his graue.
Alas departure ground of all heauinesse,
Causing the darke night of cloudie diuorse!
O cruell Death, I meane destruction of gladnesse
Disdaining the pleasure of this wofull corse!
Why would thou thus with thy malicious force
Eclipse the cleerenesse of this her ioyfull day
Bringing forth the night, and care, and wele-away?
Falsly thou robbest her of her harts pleasure
Taking from her him that she loued best.
Alas thou art the common theefe of Nature
That hast take from her all ease and herts rest.
Wold God on thee she mought call a Quest
Of Louers▪ and then for all thine art
Thou shouldyst be do to death with thin owne dart.
What needith it to speake of thine Enuy?
When this woful woman shal neuer be the better
For that hath be the cause of all her Malady
If it be rehersed, it makys her wo the greater,
Wherefore my pen shall write therof no letter▪
But thus this woman wepith, & can none otherrede,
It helpeth her nothing, for her make is dede.
How shall she now be ruled, shee takis her councell
Deuoide of comfort, for her lacks her guide:
Anon she hath cōclud within her mind right well
At home with her fader she thinkith to abide,
And there to leaue her sorrow if it would betide
Whereas all her penance first of all was take;
So wedow to her fader she comith in clothis blake.
Things artificiall that be violent
Wrought or ellis made by cause accidental
May not euer indure▪ for when the cause is shent
The effect thereof shall sone faide and fall.
Why should this woman then lenger, feynt, or pall,
Syth the cause of her mourning is fro her mind ycast
The death of her Husband is so fer-since past?
If still she bide, and dwell euer still
In wofull care to continue and indure,
Within short time she should her selfe spill:
For sorrow is a poyson which no man may cure,
It bringeth hearts proude full low vnto the lure,
It maketh strength to faide and also Beautè,
It is the greatest malady that to man may be.
So she still bided in hir faders house,
Young and coragious also in high degree,
With affluence of all thing that was delicious▪
But when at last she gan perceiue and see
That for loue, hir Fader intendeth not that she
Should neuer more none other husband haue,
But still to dwell with him to he be dead in graue:
Thus then hath her Fader determind vtterly
Neuer to procure for her no marriage,
And her selfe to axe it her seemed velonye,
She thought therfore to take her best aduantage,
Gife she mought espy a man of good linage,
So that he gentil were, to take her owne choyce,
And in the electiō her Fader should haue novoice.
Now this noble Tancrede had in his houshold,
As in a Princes Court is wont for to be,
Both Lords and Knights couragious to behold,
Som gentlemen, som yemen, some of low degre,
Among these she began to looke and see
If she can any finde that were to her pleasure,
Whome she would euermore loue while she might endure.
So dayly in her minde she was full diligent,
For to note ech man in his demeanance:
But Guistard to loue is only her intent,
And he right well knew by the apearance
Of her chere and her chaunged countenance
That of brennyng loue she daunced in the trace,
Which hath bound her heart with his goldin lace.
But where she set her loue he wist in no case,
Till ones he fortuned to stond before this Lady,
And she beholding him with deadly pale face
Not speaking o word, she sighed greatly
And anon with that she can withdraw her eye
Casting downe her looke farre vnto the ground,
So womanly shamfast she sat a greate stound.
And when this young louer now brought in loues daunce
Of her entent had such experience
He was not dull of wit, but gaue attendance,
Her to serue and please he did his diligence,
Cupid hath smitten him with so great feruence
Of loue, that their hearts be together bound,
Both perished with one dart, two louers with one wound▪
Right ioyfull he was that he stode in such grace
Of this faire Lady But euer he drad fortune:
Alas he seyth thy where turneth in litle space
Thy double chere vnstable neuer will continue,
More variant then is the flitting Lune:
I feare that thou will cause my Lady soueraigne
Vpon my simple birth of daunger to disdaine.
Yet know I her heart so true and so stedfast
And shee began also to proffer loue,
Why should I then feare or ellis be agast
Or put default in her? O mercie god aboue!
For all treasure in earth it would not me behoue
That my hearts ioy, my ladie hereof wist
That I shuld put in her any such mistrist.
And percase that if shee loued mee not,
Yet would I in her seruice still perseuer:
Mee nead not by reason argue, for I wot
Loue hath her heart imbrast me to loue euer,
What should I shortly say? for they had leuer
Ych of hem die than to part fro other,
More feruently they loued than sister or broder.
So betweene hem both that loued on this wise
They desired only for their great pleasaunce
By some sottle meane how they mought deuise
For to speake togeder and haue their dalliaunce,
They will not put noe trist ne noe affiaunce
To any on liue their matter for to tell,
But euer to hemselues they kept it counsell:
Till it fell on a time of a sudden aduise
The Lady found a mean that was a great cautell,
As oft it faris that women bin sone wise
And in a sudden case they bee right suttell:
Shee tels him her intent by wrighting euerie deale
And the letter closed in a reed-spyre
Shee tooke it to Guistard for to stur the fire.
Guistard remembred well that for som priuie cause
The reed was take to him, he did it sone on close,
And when he saw the letter, made a little pause
Sitting in a studie and anon he rose
And to reade this letter can himselfe dispose,
The which the Ladie made of her owne inditing
She was her own secretarie, it was her owne writing.
The tenor of this letter was this and all the effect:
I send you greting with hart & loue entere
Not bold by rehersall my counsell to detect
For dredful shamfastnes. Wherfore this messēgere
Shal do this enterprise whose coūtenance & chere
Changeth for no sham; therfore these letters blake
I pray you disdaine not to read them for my sake.
Certefying you all my herts pleasaunce
All my worlds rest, my ioy and comforture,
That my life, my deth, as in a balance
Dependith and hangith only in your cure,
In you alone is put mine Auenture:
Wherefore I require you that you be not strange,
For I ensure you verily my hert shall neuer change.
And I trow certaine that your gentill hert
Disdeineth not my loue, nor is not dangerous
Considering your birth, and your great pouerty,
And I a Ladie both young and beauteous:
For Cupid knoweth right well & his moder Ve­nus
That only for your vertue and your gentilnes
I set my loue on you and for no great riches.
But because also my Fader hath made an othe
That I shall neuer wed while he is liuing,
To suffer me depart from him he is loth:
Yet lustie youth like as the fire brenning
Hath chose you for my souereyn all my life en­during,
And also fortune of her high fauour
Hath shewed me the meane to saue all our honour.
Remember there is fast by my faders place
A dungeon deepe & strong farre vnder ground
The which at his entry has no more space
But an hole aboue that litle is and round,
And because it is not vsed ne is found,
With bushes and briers it is ouergrow
So that the dungeon deep ther may no man know.
Out from thilke pit is there a secret way
By a posterne dore that stands full preuely
Strong bars, and posts, both with locke and key
That leadith to the Chamber where as I
Am wont of custom in sleping for to lye,
And by great dis-use this way is out of minde,
This little dore this posterne can no man finde.
Till at the last loue to whome nought is hid,
The which for euery sore can finde a remedye,
This way into my minde sone hath reducid:
But shortly I taried not but hastly did me hie
To vnbarre and vnlock I can looke and spy,
And at the last with great paine and beesy labore
I haue found all the craft for to vndoe this doore.
Be my selfe alone I went into the caue,
I saw the little hole where is the entering
How and in what wise ye may your selfe saue
Agein all manner perils in theder comming,
The hight and the depenes I send you be writing
So that you need not dread for no misauenture,
Ye know where & whan you may haue your plesure.
And after this in her inditing
There was a little clause for a conclusion
As is the common vsage in each writing
Whose name should be callid Subscription;
She wrot ther By your owne, and made no mentiō
Of her name: till after a great stound
With sighing sore she added to, Sismond.
What maruaile now if he be not pensiue?
Now he hath rad this letter of comfort
And from his deedly sorrow turns againe to liue,
Sith he has almost raught the lustie port
Of pleasance, lust▪ solace and of all disport:
Wherefore he hasteth full besely and hieth
To meet his Ladie as the letter specifieth.
Who now but this Guistard with his diligence
To this pleasant Iourney spedith him apace:
Euery houre that he is out of her presence,
Him seemeth for to be a thousand yere of space:
But tho the sluggish carkasse be far fro her face
Yet with the flighty wings of amorous desire
He is euer in her seruice brenning as the fire.
A cord he let adoun anon of great length,
And fast vnto a Bough aboue he did it tye
Fret all full of knots sufficient of strength
By which into the pit he mought himself cōuey,
To close himselfe in ledder also he did puruey
Fro bushes and fro briers to kepe him sewre:
And thus towards the pit he went in this armour.
The bright eye of the world when that the shining day
Withdrawith, and also Titan with his sparkling light,
Then this young louer takith his iourney
Towards the foresaid pit: abiding there al night
Till on the morrow Aurora shone full bright;
Whē som haukith, som huntith, som to their labour,
Then gins this Ladie to com out from her towre.
Remembring her well, when the night was gone,
Of their couenants made by iust appointment,
All her gentyl-men and maydens euerychone
To her gardent to sport and play she sent
Feyning her to be sick, and for that intent
She said to her chamber ageyn she would forth right
To taken rest and slepe if she might.
The dores & the windowes she closed anon ful sure,
Then towards the dungeon took she the right way
Where she found Guistard her herts pleasure:
Ioyfully they kissed, Then she gan to say,
Gramercy fortune that I may see this day
To speake with him that is my worldly pleasaunce,
In whome is all my trust and affiaunce.
She brought him to her chāber this Lady beauteous,
Her fresh apparrell full Lusty was and gay,
Her surcote of gold furryd with Ermin precious,
A fayre mirror of Loue her beautie and ary:
So shortly▪ for to tell, I can no more say;
But construe if ye can, louers, what they did,
For I can no more, but long they there abid.
And when them seemed best they parted in sondre,
Not long they tary, ne dayly their sports vse,
For dayly comming maketh men to wonder,
And eke long taryaunce makith men to muze,
But cheifely womens shrewd tongues will accuse
Your noble fame, and sey your life is nought,
Tho neuer ye do offend in word ne thought.
Wisely they prouided to eschew infamy,
And for all thing secret mought be kept
Into the garden went she full hastely,
Where that her maydens pleyd thinking she slept,
And at night Guistard out of the pit crept:
So comming thus, and by night parting away,
Continued they their pleasure till after many a day,
That fortune alas by treason falsly compast,
Bewrayed all their counsell of misauenture,
All their lusty pleasance turned at the last
Into cruell deth at their departing:
O thou false fortune that euer is on sure,
Bringing herts light to wo when they be well,
It seem is thou art not able for to rule thy whele!
It is next in our processe to speake of Tancrede
The noble Prince her fader, which of great fre­quēce
Of tender loue & Ielousy more then need,
So he delyted in her speche and eloquence,
That he vs'd of custome vnder cares pretence
To come vnto the Chamber of his doughter feyre,
And after they had talkyd, agayne home to repeyre.
Explicit Liber primus.

THE SECOND booke of Guistard and Sismond.

IN the mery season of Summer feyre and hot,
When euery thing renewith by course of nature,
And winter with his frosty beard and f [...]iesed cote
Is put into exile and may no lenger dure,
Then Summer geuith his liuery with besy cure,
New clothing all the Earth in a lusty greene
All browderid full of flouers right freshly to seene.
Sterring harts light in gardens to walke,
So did this Lady Sismond for her pleasaunce
In this fresh season, plucking flowres fro their stall▪
She made her garlōd wherwith she thought to daūce:
But in the meane while, alas the vnhappy chaunce,
Her Fader, of a Custom as he was wont to do,
Only to talk with her is to her garden go.
But when he perceiuit she was in her disport,
Right loath he was to let her recreation,
He would for nothing his doughter discomfort,
Neither disquiet her till she had all done,
Forth into the chamber entred he full sone
The curteyns were draw by the bed side,
He sat behind the curtein his doughter to abide.
And as he sat still, sleep did him encumbre,
He waxed all vnlisty and also somnolent,
Then to the bed lened he began to slumbre.
O thou vntristie fortune what is thine entent?
To distroy this Lady it seemith thou hast ment.
Where thou may bewray, it is not kept counsell;
That should be counsel kept, thou tellist euery deal.
O princis doughter Sismond infortunate by birth,
O houre vnhappy when thou began to so iourne
With Loue in his Palace: The pleasant Sun of mirth
Ys comin to his hiest, & beginnith to turne.
O slow malicious meeuer, thou cursed Saturne,
I trow by some enuy or malicious aspect
Of all this feruent loue thou hast broken the affect.
Poore Sismond thinking no deceyt ne guile
Partid fro her maydens & to her chamber went,
And so forth to the pit: wher in a little while
She found her Guistard all readye present,
For a little before (alas) for him she sent:
And when they wer in comin, they put no mistrist,
They know no body there, they did what they list.
Now when her fader see the abhominable Crime
After he was out of his sleepe awake
He thought haue cryed: but for a litle tyme
It seemed him best to let his anger slake
And easily within himselfe this payne to take:
He made no stirring, but sat euer still
Till they had done their pleasure at their owne will.
And after that departed as before,
Guistard to the pit, and she to her women▪
Her wofull fader would tarry there no more,
But home he went in hast, and callyd for his men,
Of which he sent a certain to the den
For to take Guistard when he should goe hence,
And so to present him to the Kings presence.
When this man come vp, anon they him arrest,
With dread and pale visage for dread he shooke,
All they had ruth on him both most and least,
But forth in that Aray they there him tooke,
They brought him to the Prince, & he did on him loke,
For great wrath and anger very pale of chere,
Seying vnto Guistard as ye shullen after heare:
Guistard, he seyd, my loue and tender fauor,
The mekenes & gentyll hert that I haue shewd to you
Hath nothing deserued so great a dishonor
To mee and mine as ye haue doe right now,
Seing my selfe all thing, what ye did and how:
That truly so I mought my worship keepe and saue,
I would I were dede and beryed in my graue.
This great rebuke and contum ele went euen to the hert
Of Guistard that for shame cannot speake o word,
Till at the last with corage forth he stert,
Saying no more but this▪ Remēbreth wel my Lord,
Experience I trow will to my sentence accord:
The mightie power of Loue is a stronger bond
Then other ye or I am able to withstond.
But all his excuse was euin samfayll,
So was his mind with malice and Ire obumbrate.
Alas where malice reigneth may non excuse auail,
A great abusion is a ruler to be passionate.
O ye princis therefore to whom of high estate,
The guiding is committed of noble nations,
Well ought ye take heed to rule your passions.
Permit not your willfull Sensualitè,
Geinst wisdoms councell for to put restreant:
Be not ruld only by your voluntè,
Oppressing by power him that is weak and feynt,
Whereby your noble fame is hurt and attaynt:
It causeth your people also in tyme of your distresse
To withdraw their fauour and herty faithfullnes.
To euery glosing tale giue no credence,
Let not hasty cruelnes guide your iudgment:
Remember well or ye define your sentence,
What shalbe the end and what the hole intent:
Rule your selfe discretly by good auisement:
Remember the prouerbiall seying long agoo,
A cruell hasty man shall neuer lack of woo:
Preeued wellby Tancredes cruell hastinesse,
Committing Guistard anon to close preson,
Putting him in Irons and in great distresse,
As a traytor guiltie of false prodicion,
And afterwards alas agein all reason
This innocent was do to deth so cruelly,
That ech man abhorrith to here that tyranny.
What man of his wit is so dull and herd,
That cannot think herby of sorrow augmentatiō?
The gret thought this Lady had for her Guistard
Sore trobled in her sleep by fearefull vision,
Her mind was set on him with such oppression,
That both of wele and wo all his auenture
Was shewed her in sleep by a feyned figure.
I trow she see full dreadfull visions and dreamis
When her loue was presoned in that wofull night,
In weeping her eyne waterid like two streemis,
And euer she thought Guistard stood in her sight
Holding a cup of gold, with an hert al blody dight,
Himselfe eke sprent with blood did her salue,
Seying: Farewell Sismond, thys is my last adieu.
She thought her answere was to him anone,
Alas will ye so sone make a departure,
And voyd of comfort leue me thus alone?
Ye shall not so dere hert: For certain I ensure,
I shall but once drinke and do my besy cure
To go with you euer: how so your Iourney turne
Mine hert and yours shall ay togeder soiourne.
And sodenly with that out of her slepe she stert
As a woman from her self, she was so sore dismaid,
She thought of very deth the sword went to her hert,
And thus weeping by her selfe she prayed:
O myrror of all women Mary she seyd,
From all shame and velony my loue & me defend,
And helpe that my dreme to me none pretend.
All these and many mo thing is conuenturall
May well be ymagined by persuation▪
But all this is feyning as dreme fantasticall,
And therof mine Author makith no mencion,
So that I think to make no manner digression,
Encreasing any thing that is not pertinent
To my first purpose or to mine entent.
Wherefore I will proceede to speake of Sismond,
Which of Guistards duresse had no notice
Saue only by her dreams, till after a great stound
Tancrede to her chāber com as was his old guise,
And she anon with reuerence did again him rise
Welcoming her fader with obeysant lowlines,
The which seyd vnto her as I shall expresse:
Doughter Sysmond, he seys, your womanly Ap port,
Your vertuous talke and carefull demenaunce,
Your stedfast hert and guidance gaue me such cōfort
Trusting in your hert with hole affiaunce,
That ye of voluptuous Venus the lusty pleasance
Without assent giuen, I meane of mariage,
Would not haue take your selfe leaue for all your corage.
But well I see my wit was dull and blynd,
For sure I would haue demid the great occasion
Shuld sooner haue dryed flaming agein kinde,
Thē ye wold euer haue thought to be a mis-womā ▪
For had I not seen the deed in what place & whā,
Shuld neuer man haue causit me haue supposaill
E re that you would so done but in your spousaill.
Remember well what hurt therefore and damage
Ye did vnto your birth and blood royall,
When ye like women of brothel and prostrage
Toke what com to hond as the chaūce would fall:
It seem is ye put no difference twixt Get & Chri­stall:
All one to you a flint and a Diamond,
Peasin as good as Perles orient and round.
From all womanhode you be degeneraunt,
Which of worshipps souerance is euer desperous;
But ye peruert all this, ye be so variaunt,
Taking in steed of worship, lust voluptuous,
And sike [...]ly the offence were not so grieuous
Hadye taken such as had be commendable,
To your noble birth or elis conuenable.
But in all this region yt seemith by your choyce,
Lord, knight, ne squire was none to your pleasure
Of royall blood, in whome ye couth reioyce,
Saue only poore Guistard, whose birth & auēture
Fortune of disdain hath take no thing in cure:
Which for great pouert in time of misery,
Without my releife had dyed for penury.
So that my creuell deth dayly doth renew,
Death? nay more then deth I may call it truly
Percing my brest ay fresh, new and new,
By the shamefast sword rebuke and velony,
Which you haue do Sismond to all our Ancetry,
Chusing such one to be my Londs inheritaunt
As is by birth ignoble and poore mendicant.
Wherefore I verely purpose to represse
His great inhaunced pride and great presumtion
Condemning for his [...]yot in payne and duresse,
Intending the law shall haue due execution,
Shortly shall he die, this is the conclusion
Vtterly I am determined for his great offence:
But of you Sismond I giue yet no sentence.
For I may resemble as in my ragious minde,
A ship without anckre, lacking sterne also
In stormy rage of euery furious winde,
It is a thing vnstable waning to and fro,
Semblable now am I one of thoo▪
My doubtfull minde is brought in perplexité,
And cast fro side to side twixt iustice and pité
Furst iustice meueth me to do correction,
Rewarding euery wight to their desert,
Some loue, some payne with great affliction,
But faderly pity so stirrith my tender hert
That it sufferith mee not see nor aduert
Your criminall offence, but rather doth it excuse;
So that twixt both I stand a man confuse.
And forth with anone he fell to weping,
As a young infant sore scourged and bett,
In all worldly pleasaunce reioyced he nothing
Sorrow and shame so by the hert him fret,
Seying nothing thus sat he still and muet:
Doughter he seyd gif ye will axe mercy,
To pardon your offence forsooth I am redy.
But when Sismond saw how her loue Guistard
In preson was intreted kept in yron strong,
That fortune to her also was so cruell and hard
To publish her councell that secret was so long,
With gentilles and rurals it was a commen song,
That euery man within the country round
Spake of the vnhappy Guistard and Sismond.
Wherefore she plunged so far in pit of sorrow deep,
That I trow ech hart that gentill is & tender
If I shuld tel her payne wuld also mone & wepe:
Full oft she wrung her fingers long and slender,
Seying; all wordly pleasaunce here I surrendre:
For sithence my loue Guistard is iudgid for to dy,
I will doe the same, I thinke not to abye.
Wherefore ô cursed Fortune with thy double chere
All thy great malice wholly I defy,
Setting no thing by thy deynous daungere,
Thou shall vs not depart for all thine enuy,
For our loue togeder shall dwell perseuerantly▪
And turnid to her fader with corage and boldnes,
Seying as in this booke myne Author doth witnes:
Tancrede, she seyd, Fader if I shuld ye call,
Nother will I denie it, nor prey you of fauour▪
The furst it will helpe me nothing at all,
Sith ye haue full knowledge of my Paramour▪
But for the second, to axe grace or succour,
I will not axe no grace for that in no wise,
Nor of your grace and fauour aske no benefice.
So that I knowlich plainly all mine entent,
My loue is set on Guistard, & hath be many a day▪
And shalbe when my spirit and soule is went
From the brotle mansion of this bodies clay:
If nature would me helpe meane to puruey
That I mought execute mine affection and will,
Yet would I after my deth euer loue him still.
And if ye thinke this Loue so great a cryme,
Forsooth the cause thereof was your negligence
When in youth and corage my lusty prime
The brenning fire of loue with so great feruence,
Persid myne hert: And yet your cruell insolence
Would not me suffer for all my great payne
After myne husbands deth be marryed againe.
Hadye well learned the doctrine of prudence,
Ye wold remember your substance materiall,
I trow it should be imprinted in your aduertence,
That you bene made of matter freale and carnall,
Right so am I your doughter by vertue seminall;
I am nother of stone yron ne brasse,
But of flesh and blood more brekill than the glasse.
Altho your head be white snowid for age,
Your frosty lims eke be vnweldy and cold,
The hete ny extinct of your lusty corage,
Right well ought ye forsooth consider & behold
How hote is youth with brenning pricking mani­fold
Assayling ech man be he neuer so haute
With many a fyry dart and hote brenning assaut.
Aboue all thing ye shuld haue memory,
Tho ye haue spent most of your lusty season
In arms of knighthoode and of cheualrye,
Yet shuld ye not foryet, as seemis by reason,
Ease, rest, and dilicates what great incheason
They giue to sterre a man to corage hote feruent,
As well in crooked age as lusty Iuuent.
All these occasions I had and many moo
By which I meuid was so gretly desirous,
Borne by Natures course of flesh and blood also,
Of corage lusty young and amorous,
Fosterid also in pleasaunce and metes delicious:
And that that stirred most, & was my cheife motife,
The experience therof sith I was a wife.
But all this is ferre fro your remembrance,
Ye think not your youth which is past & goo,
Ye may well resemble him in your demeanaunce
Which fell into the water with others one or two,
But after he was deliuerid of his care and wo
Thought nothing at all where he had bin beforne,
His fellows he rebukith, laughing them to scorne.
And if ye haply couth rule your passions
Nor set nought by their force and violence,
Yet mought not my frailté geinst such occasions
Make no champarty nor no great defence,
My hert was not so big to make resistence:
So at last woundid, at last with loues firie launce
I was subdued as prisoner to Castle of Pleasaunce.
Nathelesse with deuour I put my diligence
All sklaunders and infamie to auoid and eschew,
And fortune of her fauour gaue vs assistence
Our lusty sport oft tymes for to renew▪
We thought her promise had be stedfast & true,
Blandeshing vs euer with countnaunce and chere
As tho the sun of pleasaunce shuld shine euer clere.
But now I see right wel shee ginneth for to change,
Sith ye of all our counsell haue plainly notice,
Such is false fortune, ay variant and strange:
But how ye come to knowledge or in what wise
My wit is rude and dull, I can it not deuise;
Whether by experience or by information,
By force prestigious, or some superstition.
And wold God your knowlech were certain & true
Not meued ne made by false suggestion,
Ye wold not then your doughter thus pursue
Seing that I erre in mine election
Taking no sad guiding or direction▪
But let my reuell ren at the hole chaunce,
I nas not so fool-hardy without deliberance.
For I set not my loue ne my fatall intent
Of sudden hap as a comen velayne,
But with deliberation and auisement
I gaue my loue to Guistard as my Souerayn,
And truly to no mo, this is, certayne:
Wherefore ye be to blame fader, yt semith mee,
To sey my loue was to ych in like free.
As to the great repreeue also contriued,
Which alder first ayen me ye obiect▪
Seing of pleasaunce my ship was ariued
In a port that was ignoble and despect,
I mean that Guistard was pore and deiect
Hauing no part of noblesse by discent,
Which maketh my fault greater after iudgment:
But as in this ye follow the vnstable vulge
Clacking and blasting, variant as the winde
As fame the flying messenger can diuulge
Their rude opinions ignorant and blinde,
Seing it is a prouerbe sufficient and kinde
Hee that is not borne to habundance of good
But needy for pouert, is not of gentle blood.
Thus by fond reasons daylie talking they erre
Not thinking how fortune fro her vnstable center
Plongeth downe Estats fro her wheele aferre
When she list of daunger to frowne & repent her▪
But would they first weigh the originall enter
Of our common birth in all our first beginning
Brought forth into this world poor naked & weping,
Then should they remember who were of noblesse,
Who might intitle him to the blood royall▪
They should see how Nature whith her besinesse,
Brings forth her effect & wondrous gifts all,
Being as in her birth to euery man egall:
For as naked is a King borne as I vnderstond
As is the lowist borne that neuer had house ne lond.
For when our moder Eue brought forth A bell and Caine,
Who couth prefer himselfe for birth or linage,
Or of these two infants who couth the title clame
Of gentle blood of noblesse or parage?
That time no difference was twixt gentle & page,
But euery one was fayn to endeuour
His liuing to get with sweat and with labour.
Of all this time was none bond in seruage,
Was none by seruice vnder subiection,
Till that the people gan to rule and rage
Guiding hemselfe by will and not by reason
Offending their lawes by their transgression▪
Then of right and Iustice they must bee correct
Of one their soueraigne, and they to him subiect.
But he that should bee ruler and haue regency
May not of right bee such as a transgressour:
Agen all due order of nature is it trewly
That vice shold sit aboue as gouernour:
But when that vertue gentlenesse doth honour
He is of right prouided soueraigne,
Although his birth is poore, this is certaine.
Of this wife was Moses and Gedeon also,
The noble duke Iosuah of God himselfe elect,
And scripture reherseth eke of many moe,
Which though for their birth were poore & de­iect,
Yet were they for their vertue chosed to direct
And guide the people. So shortly it is true,
There is no gentleman saue only by vertue.
Then fader Tancrede in all your great houshold
Remember well your gentles in their gesture,
The guidance eke of Guistard if you list behold,
His lowly demeanance with all his hauiour,
I trow yee affirme that madam nature
Hath graunted more to him than many of tho
Which yee call gentlemen, tho all they bee not so.
And truly I heard neuer such relation
In praise and laud of Guistards noblesse,
As I haue often heard by your assertion
Commending his Vertues and his gentlenesse,
Yet was his vertue more than the name doubtles:
Hee that saith Guistard is no gentleman,
Forsooth he saith vntrue and little good can.
Had yee him called poore yee had not greatly erred;
And yet forsooth it is great velony
To bee with you a gentleman vnpreferred,
Such one as tends on your seruice daly,
A gentle maister bids not his man needy,
And though needie pouert take fro a man riches
Yet reues it not nurture nor gentlenesse.
As for your doubtfull ambiguity
What doome to giue of mee, or what sentence,
Bee not in doubt thus nor perplexity,
Dye he, I dye with cruell violence:
For I was roote and cause of this offence.
For thy, if you will not my death complish,
These cruell honds my life shall soon finish.
For iustice knoweth with her egall ballaunce,
Which rightwise iudge is vnto euery wight,
My fault is more than his in ponderaunce:
Why then shold not her sword mee sharply smite
Sith that in my person is all the wite?
Reason wold that I shold haue correction,
Which was the very cause & the occasion.
And if your pleasure be at my request
To chaunge his mortal fait with merciful pardon,
I for your finaunce giue that ye loue best,
Mine owne life I meane I giue you to guerdon:
For sley yee Guistard, this is the conclusion,
Let your foolish hastines your doughter sley also:
For if ye do it not, my selfe sone shall it doe.
The prince her fader anone perceiued well
Her chear nought abashed, her hert not feminine:
Yet thought her not soe tigrous and cruell
To procure her owne deth, and her mortall fine:
Hee thought her loues feruence world decline,
If the fire were not kindled ay new and new
By the sight of Guistard comfort of her hew.
Wherefore Tancrede meaning his ire to complish,
Sent forth his men by night so priuily
To sley Guistard. Oh Tancrede thou might wish
Sismond had not be borne: for her noble glory
Is macculate by this thy tirrany,
Commaunding the bloodie hart with violent force
Furiously be rent from his dead murdered corse.
Tancred hath closd this hart sprēt with blood round
In a cupe of gold in stead of sepulture,
And by a messenger sent it to Sismond,
Which doth her diligence with busie cure
Intending her owne death for to procure,
Of herbes and roots to make a potion
Mixt in a viole with venemous poyson.
And what the bearer said shortly to expresse,
Madam, he saide, your father hath you sent
This woefull donatiue to your noblenesse,
The thing you loued best he sends you to present,
Telling you that it is his whole intent
To giue you of Guistard such ioy and comforture,
As ye gaue him of Sysmond. This was his pleasure.
When Sismond saw the hart closed in gold,
Shee vnderstoode her soueraigne was deed:
Alas now been deathes Kalenders so cold
Entred this Lady, now can shee no rede,
Now is she wan the flower of woman head
That sometime was the mirrour of fayrenes,
The orient margarite of all gentlenesse.
Voyde of all comfort sat she still dismaid,
Till at the last with bold hardy courage
Beholding the messenger, thus to him shee said,
It were ayen reason to put you in dammage
Onely for the doing of your message:
But for my fader I giue you in witting,
Ye shall on my behalfe be are him no greeting.
For he resembleth more in his wood rage
A tyraunt than a prince ay thirsting for vengaūce,
Which no whit couth his passion assuage,
Nor all his life himselfe culd auaunce
To such worship, as when his violence
Let this heart be shrined in a tombe of gold,
And in this only his goodnes may be told.
And when she list no lenger talke continue,
Viewing the bloody hart in wofull sepulture,
She gan his Exequy with pitious intune,
Saying with faynt Spright; o peece so pure,
Hostage of lowly lust, very port of pleasure,
Cursed might he be and waried eternally
Which causeth the be seene with mortalleye.
Sufficient was to me and eke more pleasaunt.
To view the with my minde with thy lusty sight,
Of true loue ay stedfast and not variant,
It is too much to see thee thus in light:
But now thy course is done, thy counts are quite,
Thus Fortune hath complished thy fatall fyne
Buried in gold in stede of Lybitine.
I trow no lack was of what should behoue
To deadly faite and seruice funerall,
Saue teerling teares of her that was thy loue,
For weeping shold be at departing mortall:
Wherefore I trow my fader at thy bane fatall
Hath sent thee to my chamber of full remembrance
That I shuld bewail thy dethper soluing al obseruāc.
And I shall fulfill with my power and might
All thing requisite to thy mortuarye:
And after all is done by custom and right
I shall yeild my selfe to death tributarie,
Suing thy fearefull trace: for sooth I shal not tary,
But among other in deathes wofull daunce,
Following next thy hond as is my fatall chaunce.
In whose felowship, or whose comitiue,
Might I better passe that painefull iourney,
Than in his whom I loued most on liue?
And also he tarryeth for me I dare well say:
Wherefore sith his partner was alway
Of pleasure; I shall take part of his payne,
Death shall not vs disseuer thus in twayne.
And anon with that her chere she gan to turne,
Her eyne in weping ran like showrs ofrayne,
Till she had wash'd the hart filling the vrne
By the stilling water of her eyne twaine:
And after she had ceas'd weeping againe
Beholding the hart againe with deadly chere,
With sobbing voice she saide as ye shall here.
O ioyfull hart, ô amiable mirrour!
Now lacks there nought required of duty
Vnto deadly fine and funerall honour
Saue only this that I might follow thee.
But for it seemith that death disdaineth mee,
I shall therefore my selfe with violent force
Disseuer my spirit fro his wofull corse.
Alas my wofull penne sorroweth to write,
That lamentable end of this Tragedy,
Who couth without weeping this matter indite,
To se so faire a creature dy so wretchedly,
Of beauty surmounting and well of curtesy?
Shee tooke alas the viole with the potion,
That she had made afore, & dranke vp the poyson.

After she had dronke that pestiferous drought.

Desunt nonnulla.
So came he in with pale affrighted chere,
Saying sweete Sismond be of good sembland,
If ye thus mourne it will bring mee to dispaire:
Thus he supposed to loose her of her band
With his wordes of cōfort, but death was at hand
Crampesing her limes, and gone was her sight,
Yet she answered againe her fader as she might,
And saide, Tancrede bestow better, if thou can,
Thy tears, for they stand mee in no effect:
Thou resemblest him that first slew the man,
And after him repenting sore bewept:
Had it not be better him to haue kept
Thy sorrowfull doughter with ioy then liuing
At hir owne pleasure secretly a man louing,
Than to see by thy cruell execution
Her hard death to thine endles languor?
The which death shall bee a direction,
Giuing open knowledge of this error
The which was secret, but now the rumor
Shall make the thing which was not fully knowen
Through all the wide world to bee ouer sowen.
And in so much shee might no lenger speake
Nor throwes of death no lenger would delay,
She holds the cup till her hart gan to breake,
Yelding vp her spirit to God euer and aye▪
There was but Alas, Alas and welaway,
Some wept & cryed and some fell in sownd,
It was a piteous sight and a piteous sound.
The wofull fader so sory in that stound
Seing his most ioy in this world ygon
He made a great shrike falling to the ground,
No moe wordes spake he, but dead as any stone;
Thus was there griefe on griefe, & mone vpō mone.
Wherefore it hath be spoken long agoe
That an hasty creature wanted neuer woe.
Vpon this Prince thus may be verifyed,
Which was too hasty and furious certaine,
Without iudgment causing the man that he dyed,
Whose cruell death hath his doughter slayne,
And for her death he tooke such sudden payne,
He dawed neuer good day, but he was dead,
And all the world wondreth at his folyhede.
Ensample of this euery wise man take
What it is to be cruell in violence,
And of a secret thing a wonder to make
Through hasty ire wanting of prouidence:
Euery man remember his owne negligence,
And vice into vertue to plant or to root:
For truly against loue there is no manner boot.
For certes it is of true louers the guise,
When their vexation is most sharpe and sore
Then loue they each other in most hartie wise
An hundred fold more then they did before:
Youth will to youth, loue will to loue euermore,
And shortly in my minde this processe to conclude,
Each thing will draw to his similitude.
As betwixt these louers plainely did appeare,
Which were both young and in flowring age▪
For their great trouble they loued better yfeare,
And passed of death the dreadfull viage:
Alas the letting of their mariage
Was cause of this mischeefe and their fall:
Lo what it is to be agen spousall!
Wherefore that prince standeth in great perill,
That to the law of wedlock nold incline▪
But as a tirant ouer feirce and fell
Caused Guistard be put in mortall fine:
Of whose soule if I should determine,
I trust to God his faithfull intention
Hath furtherd him to his saluation.
For why? he thought none harme of earthly wight,
But to the will of Sismond did assent,
Notwithstonding that I trust to God almight
Shall be to his soule none impediment;
For to haue bee maried was their intent:
Then recken the sorrow shee had withall
And great contrition to her end finall.
That as I trust she is in blesse celestiall,
As of faith and troth all louers surmounting,
See was a mirrour vnto women all,
Example of true and stedfast loue giuing:
Wherefore I beseech him that is of all thing▪
Lord and gouernour, and comfort agen bale,
Graunt all louers ioy. And thus endeth my tale▪
Explicit Guistard and Sismond.


VVritten nine yeares before the death of G. Chaucer.


LONDON, Printed by Robert Robinson for Robert Dexter. 1597.

The Northren Mothers Blessing.

GOD wold that euery wife that wonnyth in this land
Wold teach her doughter as ye shal vnderstand,
As a good wife did of the North countré
How her doughter should lere a good wife to bee:
For lack of the moders reaching
Makes the doughter of euill liuing,
My leue dere child.
My doughter gif thou be a wife, wisely thou werke,
Looke euer thou loue God and the holy Kirke,
Go to Kirke when thou may, and let for no rayne,
And then shall thou fare the bet, when thou God has sayn:
Full well may they thriue
That seruen God in their liue,
My leue dere child.
Gladly giue thou thy tithes and thine offrings both
To the poore at thy gate, be thou neuer loath;
Gif hem of thy good, and be not ouer hard;
Seldom is that house poore there God is steward:
For that is best I spende,
That for Gods loue I lend.
My leeue deere childe.
When thou sits in the Kirke thy Bedes shalt thou bid,
Therein make no iangling with friend ne sib,
Laugh not to scorne no dir old ne young,
Be of good bering and haue a good tongue:
For after thy bering,
So shall thy name spring,
My leeue dere child.
Gif any man with worship desire to wed thee,
Wisely him answere, scorne him not what he be,
And tell it to thy friends and hide thou it nought,
Sit not by him nor stād not that sin mow be wrought:
For gif a slaunder be once raysed,
It is not so sone stilled,
My leeue dere child.
What man that shall wed the fore God with a ring,
Looke thou loue him best of any earthly thing,
And meekly him answere and not too snatching;
So may thou slake his yre and be his darling:
Faire Words slaken yre,
Suffer and haue thy desire,
My leue dere child.
Sweete of spech be thou and of milde moode,
True in word and dede, so bids our Lord God,
And keepe the euer doughter fro velony and shame
That men for thy doing speake the no blame:
Good life ends wele,
Be true euer as the stele,
My leue dere child.
Be of fayre sembland and of good manere,
Change not thy coūtnance for ought thou can here,
Ne fare not as a giglot what euer thee betyde,
Laugh not too loud ne gape not too wide▪
Maydens should laugh softlye
That men here not they bee.
My leue dere child.
When thou goes by the gate go not too fast,
Ne bridle not with thy head, ne thy shoulders cast,
Be not of mony words ne sweare not to gret,
All euill vices my doughter thou foryet:
For gif thou haue an euill name,
It will turne the to grame.
My leue dere child.
Goe not oft to the towne as it were a gaze
Fro one house to odir for to seeke the maze,
Ne go not to market thy barrell to fill,
Ne vse not the Tauern thy worship to spill:
For who the Tauerne vsis
His thrift he refusis,
My leue dere child:
Gif thou be in place where good drinke is on loft,
Wheder that thou serue or thou sit softe,
Mesurely take thou, and get the no blame;
Gif thou be drunken it turnes the to shame.
Who so loues measure and skill,
He shall ofte haue his will,
My leeue dere child.
Go not to the wrastling, ne shoting the cock,
As it were a strumpet or a giglot:
Be at home doughter and thy things tend,
For thine owne profit at the latter end:
Mery is owne thing to see,
My dere doughter I tell it thee,
My leue dere child.
Acquaint the not with euery man goes by the strete,
When folks thee bespeaken curtesly hem grete,
Let hem not by the wey, nor by hem doe not stond,
That they with velony make not thine hert bond:
For all men are not tristy,
Gif they speake to thee gayly,
My leue dere child.
Of lefe men doughter gift thou none take,
But thou wote wele how sone it forsake:
Men with their gifts wemen oregone
Gif▪ they of herts be herd as stone:
Bounden is he or shee
That gifts takis securely,
My leue dere child▪
In odur mens housen make thee no mastrye,
Ne blame thou nothing thou sees with thine eye,
Doughter I the prey bere thee so wele
That all men may sey thou art true as steele:
For wise men and old
Sayne good name is worth gold,
My leue &c.
Be thou no chider ne of wordis bold,
To missay thy neighburs neder young ne old,
Be thou not too proud ne too enuious▪
For thing that may betyde in odir mens house:
For an enuious hert
Procures mickle smert,
My leue &c.
Gifthy neighburs haue rich instore or tyre
Therefore make thou no strife ne bren not as fire,
But thanke God of goods he has thee yeuen,
And so shalt thou doughter good life liuen.
For oft at ease he is
That loues peace I wis,
My leue &c.
Huswifely shall thou go on the werk-day,
Pride, rest, and idlenes put hem cleane away,
And after on the holyday well clad shalt thou be
The haliday to worship, God will loue the,
More for worship of our lord
Than for pride of the world.
My leue &c.
Mekill shame doughter shall that wife tyde
That maken poore their husbond with their great pride:
Therefore doughter be huswife good,
After the wren has vaines men may let blood.
For their thrift wexis thin
That spend more than they win,
My leue dere child.
Wisely looke thy houshold thy meynye,
To bitter ne to boner with hem ne bee,
And looke what neede is best to be done
And thereto set thy meiney sone:
Before done deede
Another may speede
My leue &c.
Looke to thy meyny and let them not be ydell,
Thy husband out, looke who does much or litell
And he that does well quite him his meede
And gifhe doe amisse amend thou him bidde,
And gifthe work be great and the time strait
Set to thy hond, and make a huswifes brayd
For they will do better gifthou by them stond,
The worke is soner done there as is many hond
My leue &c.
And looke what thy men doon, & about hem wēd,
At euery deede done be at the tone end
And gifthou finde any fault soone it amend,
Eft will they doe the better and thou be nere hand
Mikell him behoues to doe
A good house that will looke to.
My leue &c.
Looke all thing be well when they worke leauen,
And take thy keyes to the when it is euen
Looke all thing be well, and let for no shame
And gifthou so do, thou gets thee the lasse blame.
Trust no man bett than thy selfe
Whilest thou art in thy helth:
My leue &c.
Borrow not too gladly, ne take not to trest
But the more neede it make or the more breste
Make the not rich of oder mens thing
The bolder to spend the worse thriuing
For at the ending
Home will the borrowed thing
My leue &c.
Giue thy meiney their hire at the terme-day
Wheder they abiden, or els gone away
Be wise euer doughter of their doing
That thy friende may haue ioy of thy prouing
Loose not the loue of thy frind,
For a litle that thou mighst spend.
My leue &c.
Now haue I taught the doughter, so did my moder mee
And therfore do therafter gifthou think to the
Look or thou wed any mā, that he haue agood name
True of hand and tongue without any blame:
For better it is a childe to be vnborne,
Than for vnteaching to be forlorne.
My leue &c.
Sit not at euen too long at gaze with the cup
For to wassell and drinke all vppe,
So to bed betimes, at morne rise beliue
And so may thou better learne to thriue:
He that woll a good house keepe
Must ofte-times breake asleepe.
My leue &c.
Gif it betide doughter thy friend fro the fall
And god send the children that for bread will call,
And thou haue mickle neede, helpe litle or none,
Thou must then care and spare hard as the stone:
For euill that may betide,
A man before should dread,
My leue &c.
Of all thing doughter looke thou thinke,
Gif men wold for worship set thee on the benk
Be not too statly doughter noder young ne old,
Forsome folk are now pore that somtime ware gold▪
Many folk for pride
After weren a naked side.
My leue &c.
Gifthou be a rich wife be not ouer hard
Welcome thy neighbours that come the toward,
Giue hem meat and drink, the more is thy meed
Each bodie to his state shold giue the pore at need:
For thing that may thee betide
Loue well thy neighbour thee beside
My leue &c.
Take heed to thy children which thou hast born
And wait wel to thy doughters that they be not for­lorne
And put hem betime to their mariage
And giue them of thy good when they be of age.
For maydens bene louely,
But they bin vntrusty.
My leue &c.
Gif thou loue thy children hold thou hem lowe
And gif any of hem misdo banne hem not ne blow
But take a good smart rod and beat hem arowe
Till they cry mercy and their gilts bee know.
For gif thou loue thy children wele
Spare not the yard neuer a deale.
My leue &c.
Now looke thou do doughter as I haue taught thee
And thou shalt haue my blessing the better may thou the
And euery maiden that good wife wold bee
Do as I haue taught you for saint charity:
And all that so will do God giue hem his blessing
And send hem all heauen at her last ending.


THE WAY TO Thrift.

LOrd God what is this worldes wele,
Riches, reuell and great aray?
Nothing to spare, and all day to spill,
Full sone it wastes and weares awey.
When plenty may no lenger paye
What wight with him wold then abide?
A carefull man both night and day
With heauie hart his head must hide,
And all is for default of grace,
That God grutches ayenst our gouernaunce
When measure may not medle in place▪
What is it to a man more grieuance,
Than sodenly fro manhood for to fall
In pride his simple purueyance
There pouertie is stewardin hall:
But hee that can in some season
Gedder and keepe or that hee grynde
In winter tyme by way of reason
Hee shall not be farre behinde.
For ther as measure is in mynde
Good rule may not long faile,
Yet beware to bee ouer kinde
For skoring in the comiter tayle;
But wele and worship with welfare
Mickle wastes with little winne
Full soone brings a housholder bare,
With large spending both out and in,
Then bee aduised or thou beginne
That thou haue none need to plaine
Think what a state thou standest in
For Pouerty is a priuie payn,
And if thou haue hope of help and trist
Of lords and ladies with her pleasance
And yet beware of Had I wist
For old enuy makes new distaunce
In pride and pouerty is great penaunce
And yet is danger most disease
Here is a cumberrouse acquaintance
When noder of hem oder please
For Had I wist comes euer too late
[Page]When there lackes both lock and key,
What nede is then to spare the yat
When nothing is leaued in the way
With a pennylesse purse for to pay
How can he then his people please
Many a man had a leue dye,
As long to liue in such disease,
A bare beard may soon bee shauen
There as is none heyre about
It faireth as a man that mickle wold hauen
And is not else but pore and proud,
But euer ready in ilke rout
And lay to wed both pot and panne
When the fire clean is blowne out
Where shall wee go dyne than?
What need is it to delue deep,
There as is no seed to sowe?
The pot is easie for to keep
When all the fat is ouerblowe,
Noder for the kyte ne for the crow.
Incumber not thine owne nest
Too mickle bend will breake thy bow
When the game is alder best
Ensample men may see all day.
Yet keep I no man to defend
Hie houshold and great aray
Is Lords life and Ladies game,
When gladshippe growes into grame
And for need must begge and borrowe,
First comes pride and after shame,
And from solace turnes to suddain sorrow.

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