A SPARKE OF FRENDSHIP AND WARME GOODWILL, THAT SHEWES THE EFFECT OF TRVE AF­FECTION AND VN­foldes the finenesse of this world.

VVhereunto is ioined, the com­moditie of sundrie Sciences, the bene­fit that paper bringeth, with ma­ny rare matters rehearsed in the same: with a description & com­mendation of a Paper Mill, now and of late set vp (neere the Towne of Darthford) by an high Germayn called M. Spil­man, Ieweller to the Qu. most excellent Ma­iestie.

Written by THOMAS CHVRCH­YARD Gent.

Nulla potest esse incunditas, sublata amicitia.
Cic. pro Flace.

Printed at London. 1588.

EN·DIEV·ET·MON· ROY·:

Churchiards Armes.

TO MY HONORABLE Frend Sir Water Ralegh Knight, Seneshall and Chancelor of the Duchie of Cornwal & Exon, Lord Warden of the Stan­neries, and her Maiesties Lieffetenant of the Countie of Cornwall, &c.

ENFORCED by affection (that leades the mindes of men to a mul­titude of causes) I stood studying howe to requit a good turne recei­ued, and confes­sing that no one thing is more mō ­strous in nature than an vnthankefull minde, I saw my self in debt, & bound either one way or other to pay that Iowe, but not in such degree as I receiued, but in such sort as my abilitie serueth, & as a man might say to make a cunning exchange, in steed of due payment, to offer glasse for gold & bare words [Page] for friendly deedes. In good truth (my honora­ble Frend) if my creditours will so stande conten­ted, I am readier to depart from wordes, and discharge debt therewith, than to promise trea­sure, and offer that I haue not. For if free har­ted people (fortunate in the worlde) through bountie of minde (towarde my sutes or prefer­ment) bestowe manye speaches to doo mee good, where grace is to bee gotten: I can but yeeld one ordinarie thanke, for a thousande benefites, ex­cept they ransacke my storehouse of vaine inuen­cions, and finde some pleasant papers, bepain­ted with verses, or pollished Pamphlets (beblotted with barraine matter) where both verse & prose, shall make but a bad restitution for the goodnesse I haue stollen by fortune or borrowed by frendshippe. Yet waying how little Fortune hath done for mee, and howe fewe creditors I haue, that haue either lent me anie porcion of preferment (or procured me but a peece of anie certaine liuing) I thinke my self somwhat able with the little talent God hath giuen me, to repay all the debtes that euer I could bring to perfect remembrance, sauing one a most honora­ble Personage, that I dedicated my booke of Choice vnto, who got me two great Seales (besides com­mon [Page] courtesies manie) to shifte withall a season. And furthermore, your selfe 6. yeres past bestowed good speaches to the Q. Maiestie in my behalfe, by the which I got some comfortable recreation, to quicken my spirites & keepe me in breath. And yet loe a matter to be mused at, I haue sixteene seue­rall bookes printed presently to bee bought (albeit they are but trifles) dedicated in sundrie seasons to seuerall men off good and great credite, but to be plaine not one among them all, from the first day of my labour and studies, to this present yeere and hower, hath anie waye preferred my sutes, amen­ded my state, or giuen mee anie countenaunce, I hope I am not much indebted to those, nor fallen so farre in their dangers, but may easely get out, though I yeelde them no more, but a customable good will. So finding my Muses franke and free from their seruitude, I addresse this woorke of vnfeyned friendshippe to your good considerati­on, which worke showes the value and woorth of frendes (whose loue is necessarie about all E­states) the flatterie and finenesse of foes, and the dayly dissimulation of a cunning worlde. And if the world meruaile why I treat of that which is so commonly knowen, and often put in practise, [Page] I answere not those wondring wits, but shoot what bolts I thinke conuenient, at the bad behauiour of transformed people, that beares but the shapes of tame men, & showes the maners of wilde monsters: and if the worlde say (as I knowe it is talkatiue) I show a kinde of adulation to fawne for fauour on those that are happie. I answere, that is a point of wisdome, which my betters haue taught me, and I haue read in a great booke of latine (printed 400. yeres agoe) that one of your owne Ancestors cal­led Sir VVater Ralegh, had more fawners & fol­lowers than you haue: for he was L. chiefe Iustice of England, and so farre in credit with his Prince, (his learning was such) that he made lawes & e­dicts, the which the Prince confirmed & allowed. I take an example from the fish that followes the streame, the fowles that comes to the couert from the windes, and the brute beastes that auoydes a sturdie storme, vnder the sauegard of a strong and flourishing tree. Their craftie forecast though they want reason, may succor the simplenes of any rea­sonable creature, & the defence and prouision they make to escape open danger, may set to schoole a great companie of ignorant schollers. But I leaue to speake of their examples (because they are brute) [Page] and follow the grauest sort of sage & wise persona­ges, that will not blush nor thinke scorne, to learne a lessō of their forefathers[?], that got al their good for­tune by following the flood, where we fish for prefer­ment. Thus honorable friend, as my affection (& other good causes moues) bad me go forward with this my deuice & Present vnto you: so beginning the same in health, and falling sodainly sicke, I fea­red God would haue cut me short from my purposed enterprise: but his goodnes called me vp, from the bed of sorrow, (where despaire had almost dispat­ched the life) and set me afoote to go and ende my first determination, and brought me in hope you wil accept my good will: which may encourage me to a further labour and studie, that may purchase more greater fauor & thanks. So resting yours in al that my small power may stretch vnto, I take leaue, and wish you what goodnes you can imagine or desire.

Most willing at commandement. T. CHVRCHYARD.

AA


¶A sparke of Friendship and warme goodwill.

Where Friendship findes, good ground to growe vpon,
It takes sound roote, and spreads his braunches out:
Brings foorth fayre fruite, though spring be past and gon,
And blowmeth where, no other grayne will sprout:
His flow'rs are still, in season all the yeere,
His leaues are fresh, and greene as is the grasse,
His sugred seedes, good cheape and nothing deere,
His goodly barke, shines bright like gold or brasse:
And yet this tree, in breast must needes be shrinde,
And liues no where, but in a noble minde.

BEing rockt too long in the careles cradle of idlenesse (where slouth­full lims are soone lulled a sleepe) the hinderer of health, good happe and vertue: a multitude of world­ly causes (my honorable friend) a­wakened my wittes, and bad the sensible Spirites arise from the forgetfull couch of drowsie rest, and offer the bodie to some profi­table exercises, that therby the head hand and pen might either purchace commendation, or publish to good people a matter that should merite some memory. But finding my self vnfurnished of lear­ning, and barely seene in the artes liberall, & farre vnfit to touch or treate of Diuinitie, I stoode a­mazed [Page] and knewe not what thankfull thing I should first goe about and take in hand to a good end and purpose. And so a while bethinking mee (minding to draw no stronger bow thau I could well shoot in) & looking into mine owne strength, I sawe me most ablest and apt to be at commaun­dement of Prince, Countrie and Friends. In the honoring and seruice of whom I should studie to bring foorth some acceptable worke, not striuing to shewe any rare inuention (that passeth a meane mans capacitie) but to vtter and reuiue matter of some moment knowne and talked of long agoe, yet ouer-long hath bene buried, and as it seemeth layne dead (for any great fruite it hath shewed) in the memorie of man. The thing that I meane that hath layne so long in the graue of forgetful­nesse, is faithfull friendship, which Tully hath tou­ched, and a number of good authors haue writ­ten of, but fewe in these daies haue obserued, ho­nored and followed.

And now to proceed forward with this freind­ship (and shewe the degrees thereof orderly) mee thinkes that the first braunch thereof is the affec­tionat loue that al men in generall ought to beare to their countrie. For the which Musius Scaeuola, Ho­ratius Cocles, Marcus Curtius, Marcus Regulus, and many moe hath left vs most noble examples. Yea, you shall reade that some although they were bani­shed from their countrie, yet they bore in their bo­wels and breastes, to the hower of their death, the loue of their countrie, parents, friends and fami­lie. In which euerlasting loue of theirs remayned [Page] such manly and honorable motions of the minde, that many noble seruices (of voluntarie goodwill were brought forth by them to the benefite of their countrie, and recouerie of their first credite, estate and dignitie. Thus by a naturall disposition planted in the soule & sensible store-house of stayed iudgement, great exploytes were brought to passe, and sondrie wonders of this world hath ca­sely bene taken in hand. And surely all these for­mer examples (with the hazarde of our forefa­thers liues) brauely put in proofe and executed, serues to no other ende (as their meaning was) but to teach those that came after with the like greatnesse of minde, to followe the forerunners of all worthy renowne and worldly reputation. So by this, thousands may see, man is not made for himself, created to be king of earthly delights, and placed amidst the pleasures of the worlde, to doe what he pleaseth, but chiefly to looke and with good aduisement to search, how and in what sort he may be duetiful and beneficiall to his countrie. Now peraduenture in this perillous age (where many are puft vp with presumption) and sedici­ous season of proude practises and headstrong people, some serpentine sect, that caries venome in their mindes, and mortal stings in their tongues, will holde a bad opinion and say: that the earth is made for the children of men (as the Sea is for the fish) and that is mans natural countrie where he findeth foode, liuing, and credite in. But this canckred kinde of rebellious conceite, is such a gnawing worme in the conscience of man, (and so [Page] farre differs from all humaine lawes) that he that but thinkes one thought of this nature, is not on­ly vnnaturall to his countrie, but likewise vnbles­sed and vnhappie in all the soyles and countries he happeneth to dwell in. For he that honoreth not in hart the soyle and seate of his natiuitie, and despiseth the place where he tooke life, sustenance, nurriture and education, besides good fortune and preferments (the onely blessednesse here to re­ioyce of) he doth degenerate, and what birth and blood soeuer he be of, we may call him a bace borne groome, or a kindly bastard begotten out of time, liuing out of order, and of worse beleefe than an Infidell. The birdes of the ayre, the fish in the flood, and the beastes on the earth loueth to haunt and behold the place of their procreation: and the greatest Conquerors that euer were (call them Kings or what you please) though they went ne­uer so farre to obtaine victories, yet they brought all the glorie home to their countrie, and trium­phed onely there where they were first fostered, founde fauour and fortune, and had from the be­ginning bene trayned and brought vp: yea and af­ter their life (both Kings, Prophets and other great men) desired to haue their bones buried in their countrie. And some of excellent iudgement held opinion, that the loue of their countrie did farre surpasse the loue of their parents, in defence of which they offred liues, lands and goods, and cared not what daunger they should thrust them­selues into, so that thereby they might doe their countrie any honour or seruice.

[Page] O then what a blemish and blot is this in the faces and browes of them that in a proude pre­sumption (perswaded by pestilent wittes) aban­doneth their country, and would hazard on a pee­uish opiniō (if it were in their power) to sel Prince, people and patrimonie, for a colde and bare wel­come full of hollownes of hart in a strange King­dome, where cracked credite is lothsome and long mistrusted, and seeldome or neuer comes to a good and honorable ende, I can but wish their pay­ment no worse nor better, but such as Tarpeia[?] foūd of the Latines and Sabines for selling vnto them the Capitoll of Rome: a most notorious example reade it who pleaseth. So if in those daies (a great while agoe) millions of men helde the loue and friendship of their countrie so deere and precious, as in deede it ought to bee esteemed: now in our ripened yeeres when wittes are mellowed and seasoned with the sweete sauour of long expe­rience, the folly and foule facts that by ouer great boldnes makes many runne mad, should be a ge­nerall warning, and teach all kinde of people, to keepe the right and playne path of naturall affec­tion towards their countrie and friends.

Now, all these thinges there rehearsed before, are written in way of friendship to the wild wan­derers of this worlde, who vndoubtedly wants but grace and good councell. And the rest that followes hereafter in this little peece of prose, is written to your selfe (my honorable friend) whose friendship I haue felt, and sondrie moe haue ta­sted. Let the deede shewe it selfe: not writing this [Page] to teach you (with presuming wordes) any other course than your former iudgement and present consideration thinkes best to holde, but onely to keepe the blaze of good will continually burning, by feeding the flame with plying and putting in more oyle to the lampe. For I acknowledge that you knowe, that as the sinowes is needfull for the body, the marrow for the bones, and the blood for the life: so friendship is most fittest to knit the ioyntes and mindes of men together, and bindes them about with such brazen bandes, that no barres of yron may breake, nor policie of people may put asunder.

He yt hath trauayled (as I haue done) through the torrest of affliction, where many wilde beastes are wandering in the woods (some roring and running after their pray) shall see how narrowly he hath escaped from the gaping and deuouring monsters, and finde that if friendshippe and good fortune had not holpen him, he had bene vtterly destroyed. From the highest to the lowest (reckon what degrees can bee named) in good sooth they are all left alone bare-footed and desolate, where friendship hath forsaken them. But where or into what laborinth, O Lorde, haue I now brought my selfe: for now I am forced to goe forward, and may not steppe backe, but seeke an open way to walke in, orderly to set downe and shewe the sub­stance of friendship, the flatterie of the world, and the sinenesse of our age: the circumstance whereof craues an other maner of discourse and volume than this little treatise can vtter. What then, as [Page] by small sparkes (or kindled coales) great fire is made, and of a trifeling tale true matter may bee gathered: so out of weake wordes strong argu­ments may bee sifted, and through a number of spiced speeches, a simple sentence may shewe some sauour, and yeeld such tast to the quicknesse of vn­derstanding, that the hearers wittes and iudge­ment shall willingly stand contented with all that shall be spoken. And friendship is so much desired, spoken of, and necessarie for all kinde of people, that onely the bare and naked name thereof, is sweete and most acceptable, though the writer thereon be but meanly learned, and of small suffi­cience to set out at the full, the fulnesse of so florish­ing a vertue.

Then forward to the purpose: I say and proue that the same is true friendship that proceedes from vertue, and hath so noble a nature (by a di­uine motion of goodnesse) that neither vice can corrupt, nor any kinde of vanitie vanquish: For where it taketh roote, it buds so beautifully that it bringeth foorth an euerlasting fruite, whose taste is more sweete and precious, than can bee easely imagined.

And now in a season, when finenes and flatte­rie so aboundeth, and striues by cunning practi­ses to supplie the place of friendshippe (and ouer­growe euery braunch that springs from loyall a­mitie) this true friendshippe is most sweetest of sa­uour, and most highest of reputation, and burnes with a quenchlesse flame, like a blazing Bea­kon, or sparkling Torche (that can abide all [Page] windes) which is set vp on the toppe of a high Mountaine. For fine or grosse flatterie is but a bare foyle to set forth a bad Iewell: and the craftie curious cunning of these artificiall fellowes (that feedes all mens humours) makes through their manifolde trumperies, a free passage to perfect faithfulnesse and friendly good will. There is co­uertly crept and finely conuayed, into the common societie of men, a hundred sondrie sortes & shewes of amitie, which in deede are but iuggling castes (or ledger demayne) to purchase fauour, and de­ceiue the lookers on. If all that speake faire, bowe downe knee, make trim curtchie, kisse fingers and handes (yea offer seruice and friendshippe) were harty and louing friends, the world would bee so full of friendship, that there were no place left for adulation and dubble dealing. And surely if a man durst discipher the deepenesse of dissimula­tion, wee should finde our ordinarie manner of friendship so faint-harted and lame, that it neither could goe out of the doore with any man, nor yet dwell safely with many in the house. It seemeth and may bee well aduouched, that friendship of it selfe is so secrete a mysterie (shrined in an honest hart) that few can describe it, and tel from whence comes the priuie and inwarde affection, that so­dainly breedes in breast, and is conuayed to the hart, with such a content and gladnesse, that the whole powers of man leapes in the bowelles of the bodie for ioye at that instant. For example, some that neuer giues cause (with probable mat­ter) to bee embraced and made account of as a [Page] friend, is by a naturall inclination, receiued into fauour, placed in delight, and planted perpetually (so long as life lasteth) in the warme bosome of our frendly affections and fauourable conceites.

Then further note, a wonder of nature, for we see a merueilous motion among men: for some, and that a great number, hauing neither harmed vs, nor ministred any way occasion of dislike, yet no sooner in our companie, but we finde their per­sons offensiue, their presence vnpleasant, their wordes sharpe, (spoken well and to the best mea­ning) yea their workes and whatsoeuer they will doe, are taken amisse and construed to the worst. But chiefly to be noted, we litle desire the acquain­taunce, peraduenture of a friendly companion. Thus so to hate without cause, and loue earnest­ly without desart, is a matter disputable, and ar­gues plainly, that friendship is (without compari­son) the onely true loue knot, that knits in con­iunction, thousands together: and yet the myste­rie and maner of the working is so great, that the ripest wittes may waxe rotten, before they yeeld reason, and shewe how the mixture is made: that two seuerall bodies shall meete in one minde, and bee as it were maried and ioyned in one maner of disposition, with so small a shewe of vertue, and so little cause, that may constrayne both parties to be bound and fast locked in a league of loue. Then what may bee thought on those that currie fauor, followe for good turnes, turnes about like a we­ther-cocke, faunes where fortune fauors, and fa­uors no where, but for commoditie, countenance, [Page] credite, and to compasse that they seeke. If friends bee chosen by election and priuie liking, these open palterers may goe whistle: for neither they know the boundes of a good minde, nor the blessednesse that belongs to friendship. What then should we say of mens behauiours in generall? For without reuerence vttered by courtesie, suing and follow­ing for benefite, fauning and speaking fayre (for entertayning of time) creeping and crouching to keepe that wee haue, and winne that wee wish, all ciuill order would bee forgotten, rudenesse would make reuell, and men should sodainly misse the marke they shoote at. But graunting now, these ceremonious fashions and maners, yet the vsers thereof, are no more like friends, than a Maske and Mommerie (with vizars on their faces) is like a company of graue Senators, that gouerns a mightie Monarchie. And more then mon­strous it is, that such paynted shadowes are com­monly preferred to bee as pillers of friendshippe, when friendship, without proppes stands against all weathers and windes, and is of a more cleere complexion, than to bee patched vp with com­pounds, or matched with corrupted maners, en­nie to vertue, and friend to nothing but vice. For friendshippe is a certaine felicitie of the minde, a sweete ensence that burnes before God, a preser­uer of mans renowne and life, a willing bondage that brings freedome for euer, a stedfast staffe that all good people doe stay on, the mother and nurse of mutuall loue, the conqueror of hate, the pacifier of quarels, the glorie of Kings, and the suretie of [Page] subiects. And friendship is so princely and noble of condition, it may not bee ioyned with anie but such as are as honorable as it selfe. You shall see among friendes of equall calling (that are like of affection) such a sweete and common consent of fraternall loue and liking, that euery thing is wrested to the best construction, and no one mat­ter may be ministred amisse, the mindes and man­ners of men, runs so mirrily together, as it were a sorte of pretie chickens, hopping hastely after the cheereful chucking, of a brooding hen. And where such amitie is (enterlarded with honest pastime) there all hollownes of hart is banished, all playn­nes is embraced, and all good things doe prosper: as a man might say, friendship is a ring-leader to all happinesse, and the guide that shewes men the high way to all worldly exercises.

But now some may aske me, how men should make choyce of their friends, and knowe by out­ward apparance, the inwarde disposition of peo­ple, so many looke smoothly, so many flatter, and so many hath clapped on such audacious counte­nances, that the wisest may be beguiled when he least lookes for defaite[?]? It may bee aunswered, that choyce ought to be made of proofe, and not of fayre semblance, but of constant perfection: for such as casteth colours on cunning deuises, and alwaies to cloke collusion, crcepes finely in fauor with simpering and smiling, to leade readie wits after their subtill intentions, by their needles bab­ble fruitlesse fauning, often chaunge of vizage, vn­manerly boldnes, and daily attendance, where no [Page] desart commaunds them, the fayned friends of this world may be found, and in the state of neces­sitie, all true friendship is tryed. And me thinkes they take no great paynes, that accompanie men in their prosperitie, and they merite no great thankes, that desire to taste (at all times) other mens good fortunes: so that by thrusting and pressing after those, we hope to plucke somewhat from, debates of it selfe it is no certaine signe of friendship, that springs from a simple and playne affection.

Now, many will holde question, and say that Fortune must be followed, sought for, waited on, flattered because she is a deceiuer, and finely enter­tayned: For that with rude and rusticall behaui­our, both fortune and friends, will fling vs farre behinde, that would march before our fellowes. But I pray you, is not the long proofe of craftie practises, the extraordinary dissimulation of fine people, a testimonie that they are no true dealers, that worke with worldly wickednesse and poli­cie, to bee accepted as friends. Then who should presently be called a faithfull follower? thus some man may demaunde. Such I say as in mens meanest calling and credite, hath begun to fauour them, and in their better estate, doe honestly in all causes of reason, equitie and iustice of iudgement, discharge their dueties, and leaue flatterie (that openeth the doore of dubblenesse) and fall flatly to the true order of playne dealing: such I say that neither for fauor, feare or fortune, but dare speake as they thinke (due reuerence obserued) and doe [Page] rather cut off the festered flesh than feede and nou­rish a corrupted cancker. Such whose loue and fidelitie lookes narrowly on all the bounds and limits of friendshippe, and are so ielous ouer the friends they honour, that they cannot suffer any thing to sound out of frame, that may impeach, hinder, or appale the good name and credite of them they follow: such whose studie, diligence and waking regarde, stands as a watch to giue war­ning, and aduertise their friends of all inconue­niences, daungers, sclaunders, and eminent pe­rils and hazardes: such are the members most meete to be about a frend, most worthie welcome, most to bee liked, loued and trusted: and such are the blessed birds of the bosome, that ne sings nor sayes, nor makes signe of other thing than they present. And the rest that loyter about crooked measures, sounding and searching by deceites (like Fishers that closely hides their hookes) to see who they may catch, take holde of, and feele for their aduantage. They are the slee smellers out of fortunate flowers, that growes in happy mens gardens, the prowlers after profite and prefer­ment, purchased by audacious practises, the busie bodies that neuer stands still, but turnes like a toppe to betray the trustie: the tossed white froth of the Sea (that makes a fayre shewe without substance) which vanisheth away at the touch of euery mans finger: and they are the swelling bubbles of the troubled water that are blowne with each litle blast ouer many a land, and makes neither signe from whence they are come, nor to [Page] what good ende and purpose they serue. So sir, seeing the swarmes of fayned friends, the heapes of hollowe harts, the abuse of infected mindes, the musted faces couered with counterfaite good maners, and the effect of true friendshippe vtterly mistaken, in many poynts & places of this world. I trouble you no further with the reading of these lines, hoping in your fauour and friendshippe, as your affection shall mooue, and my merites with­out presumption shall craue and require, making a further present vnto you, of a few verses (hand­led as well as I could) that were deuised for the setting forth of a Paper Mill, which a great well willer of yours (as good cause he hath so to bee) hath builded by Darthford, and brought to perfect frame and forme, I trust to the great content­ment of the Queenes Maiestie, and benefite of her whole countrie: as knoweth God, who aug­ment, maintaine, and blessedly vpholde her Highnesse long among vs, and encrease your good credite with all vertu­ous disposition.

FINIS.

A DISCRIPTION And playne discourse of paper, and the whole be­nefites that Paper brings, with rehersall and setting foorth in verse a Paper myll, built nere Darthford, by an high Ger­maine, called Master Spilman. Ieweller to the Queenes Maiestie.

WHen sence of man,
sought out what Science was,
And found each Art,
through wit and study great,
Before long proofe,
could bring great thinges to passe,
In iudging head,
did many a hammer beat:
But triall had, experience prooued good,
for practise skill, on certaine surety stoode:
Then ignorance blinde, gaue learned knowledge place,
so studious minde, gaynde glory, wealth and grace.
Some searcht for gold, and digd deepe Caues in ground,
and some sought pearle, and precious Iewels gay,
Some saylde the seas, and wandred world full round,
to bring home goods, that should the charges pay.
Some made fine silkes, and veluets fayre and rich,
inuention still, was dayly vsde so much,
That each deuice, that coulde be put in proofe,
was set abroach, and tried for mans behoofe.
But sure some Arts, dath so surmount the rest,
that famous were, the authors of the same,
Whose noble acts, their worth so well exprest
that writers pen, shoulde but ecclips their fame.
Looke throughly then, on that our elders did,
and bring to light, their secrete knowledge hid,
And yeelde them lawde, as their deserts doth craue,
for I in hand, another matter haue.
I prayse the man, that first did paper make,
the onely thing that sets all vertues forth:
It shoes newe bookes, and keepes old workes awake,
much more of price, than all this world is worth:
It witnesse beares of frendship, time and troth,
and is the tromp of vice and vertue both,
Without whose helpe, no hap nor wealth is won,
and by whose ayde, great workes and déedes are done.
It flies from friend and foe in letter wise,
and serues a state, and kingdome sundry wayes,
It makes great winde, where neuer dust doth rise,
and bréedes some stormes, in smoothest sommer dayes.
It telles of warre, and peace as things fall out,
and brings by time, ten thousand things about.
For schollars fit, and merchants all alike,
for plowe men good, that digs and delues the dike,
For good Deuines, and lawyers not amisse,
for Saylers too, and those that trauell farre,
For Students best, that knowes what learning is,
for pleaders meete, for men of peace or warre,
For all degrees that are of manly kinde,
a right good meane, that may expresse the minde,
A néedefull thing, that no good wit may want,
a thing moste vsde, yet neuer will be skant.
What man, or sex, or shape of worthy molde,
can paper lacke, but buies it lesse or more?
Things present are, in paper long enrolde,
so things to come, and things long past before.
Though partchment duer, a greater time and space,
yet can it not, put paper out of place:
For paper still from man to man doth go,
when parchment comes in few mens hands, you knowe.
If paper be, so precious and so pure,
so fitte for man, and serues so many wayes,
So good for vse, and wil so well endure,
so rare a thing, and is so much in prayes:
Than he that made, for vs a paper mill,
is worthy well, of loue and worldes good will.
And though his name, be Spillman by degrée,
yet Help-man nowe, he shall be calde by mée.
Sixe hundred men, are set a worke by him,
that else might starue, or seeke abroad their bread.
Who nowe liues well, and goes full braue and trim,
and who may boast, they are with paper fed.
Straunge is that foode, yet straunger made the same,
Spillman, Help-man, so rightly call the same:
For greater help, I gesse he cannot giue,
than by his help, to make poore folke to liue.
Fewe helps these dayes, to bring vs any wealth,
some sundry wayes, doe still more harme then good:
So such as help, doe breede good bloud and health:
and in best part, ought well be vnderstoode.
If paper mill, helps poore and harmes no rich,
the gayne is great, and the inuention much,
The worke not small, the labor worth the viewe,
because old Art, is nowe reuiude a newe.
One Thirlby went, Embassador farre from hence,
Byshop of Ely.
to Charles the fift, an Emperour of great fame,
And at returne, did bring with him from thence,
a learned man, Remigius by name.
Who Thirlby loude, and made by his deuise,
a paper mill, but not so much in price,
As this that nowe, néere Darthford standeth well,
Where Spillman may, himselfe and houshold dwell.
Well this is he, that first héere profite brought,
first triall made, of thinges not héere well knowne:
First framde the forme, that sundry paper wrought,
first tooke in hand, by charges of his owne
A doubtfull worke, that others earst begun,
Who spent thereon more wealth then well they won,
This man alone, the substance shewes so right,
that all the rest, were Lampes that gaue no light.
The mill it selfe, is sure right rare to sée,
the framing is, so queint and finely done,
Built all of wood, and hollowe trunkes of tree,
that makes the streames, at point deuice to runne,
Nowe vp, now downe, now sideward by a sleight,
nowe forward fast, then spouting vp on height,
As Conduits colde, coulde force so great a heate,
that fire shoulde flame, where thumping hammers beat.
The Hammers thump, and make as lowde a noyse,
as Fuller doth, that beates his wollen cloth,
In open shewe, then sundry seceete toyes,
makes rotten ragges, to yéelde a thickned froth:
Then is it stampt, and washt as white as snowe,
then flong on frame, and hangd to dry I trow:
Thus Paper streight, it is to write vpon,
as it were rubde, and smoothde with slicking stone.
Through many handes, this Paper passeth there,
before full forme, and perfect shape it takes,
Yet in short time, this Paper yucke will beare,
whereon in haste, the workeman profit makes.
A wonder sure, to see such ragges and shreads,
passe dayly through, so many hands and heads,
And Water too, that Papers enmy is,
yet Paper must, take forme and shape from this.
This Water doth, not onely driue the mill,
but giues it grace, and makes it fine and fayre,
Is cause and ground, to giue it fashion still,
for it is made, with Water, winde and ayre.
And takes his forme of compoundes mixed well,
wherein there doth, a secreate nature dwell:
A heauenly power, that earth and ayre hath knit,
by cunning Art, and worke of humane wit.
For cloth and silke, and mettalles fine or bace,
are wrought of thinges, that haue a substance great,
This findeth forme, and stampe in straunger cace,
as Water mill, made rags and shreds to sweate.
Of whose thick froth, a creame or crudde should rise,
that shoulde take shape, and strength by breath of skyes:
Though sure a meane, there is to worke the same,
some secrete cause, brings Paper first in frame.
As corne is sowne, and there must rotte in grounde,
before it blade, or takes good roote or strength,
Then reapt and thrasht, and to the myll full rounde,
is sent to grinde, and made good dow at length,
Then kneaded well, then bakte and made good bread,
so paper sure, through many a hand and head
Doth passe like drosse, that of it selfe is nought,
till it be tried, by skill and throughly wrought.
From drosse commes gold, when fier hath searcht it well,
so all thinges haue, their worth from some great cause:
The pearle some say, is fetcht from oysters shel,
thus each thing yéeldes, to Art and natures lawes.
As fier from slint, through stroake of stéele we finde,
so world may see, what wonders worketh kinde.
Glasse was at first, as straunge to make or vewe,
as Paper nowe, that is deuisde of newe.
Of newe I meane, in England saue one man,
that had great wealth, and might much treasure spare.
Who with some charge, a Paper mill began,
and after built, a stately worke moste rare.
The Royall exchaunge, but got by that more gayne,
than he indéede, did loose by former payne.
But neither he, nor none before his dayes,
made Paper mill, that merits so much prayse.
As this that nowe, is not full farre from hence,
where Water ranne, in waste and vaine a way,
Nowe profit yéeldes, and brings in poundes and pence,
that quittes the cost, and doth the charge defray.
This had not bene, if Prince had not retained,
the straunger héere, by whome these giftes are gayned:
Her highnesse than, sawe in her déepe foresight,
what famous worke, this man coulde bring to light.
The glory then, and honor of this deede,
is hers, and ours, shall be the gayne therein.
We reape the Corne, whoeuer sowde the seede,
who ere haue lost, we shall be sure to winne.
This mill remaynes, a sampler to the rest,
that after comes, to shewe whose worke is best,
No doubt but some, this course will followe on,
a straunger left, this worke to looke vpon.
That many moe, by this may builded be,
and many heads, and handes may thriue thereby,
He merits much, that first plants fruitfull trée,
they purchase prayer, that first doth practises try.
They ought not reap, that neuer ment to sowe,
they winne great hap, that can through hazards go,
They lose no time, that toyles for publike state,
they glory gayne, that first a conquest gate.
Nowe gallant witts, that ioyes in doing well,
ply pen a pace, whiles learning may be had,
Now stripplings yong, but late come out of shell,
to Schoole good boyes, to make your parents glad.
Now Printers presse, that sets foorth many a booke,
besturre the stampe, that worlde for newes may looke,
Now Stationers[?], that worketh all the yeere,
sell bookes good cheape, for Paper is not déere.
Nowe writers graue, that studies heauenly things,
your workes shall shine, by meane of Papers grace▪
Nowe Marchant wise, that home great profit brings,
send letters out, abroad to euery place.
For Paper doth, present it selfe to those,
in common weale, that writeth verse and prose,
The merry myll, nowe grindes and goes so braue,
that worlde at will, shall alwayes Paper haue.
When Paper was, not throwly knowne of men,
they wrote in stones, and barks of trees for shift,
But loe long since, the Paper and the Pen,
by deepe deuice, found out a finer drift.
And most to prayse, because of trifling toyes,
so great a wealth, our worthy world enioyes,
Of drosse and rags, that serues no other meane,
and fowle had shreds, comes Paper white and cleane.
And euen so, the baddest people may,
became good folke, if they will bide the stampe,
Which people first, with many a worthy way,
must be well wrought, like oyle that burnes in Lampe.
For Oyle is tried, and pur'd eare it be solde,
and searcht throw out, as fyre tries out the golde,
And when the oyle, is fit to blaze or burne,
it is applied, at néede to serue our turne.
So man is méete, to serue his natiue soyle,
when thumping worlde, abroad hath tried him throwe,
Or heere at home, his life hath scaped foyle,
and he thereby, may shew a blotlesse browe.
But this must be, as Paper passeth mill,
mans doubtfull dayes, must passe through perilles still,
And though great blowes, do beat him backe a space,
hee bides the brunt, to get the greater grace.
And yéeldes to thumps, and thwartes as yce to thawe,
as frost to fier, will soft and gentle waxe:
Or as stiffe neckes, will stoupe and yéelde to lawe,
compelde by flame, to yéelde to fire like flaxe.
For nothing more, becomes a noble minde,
than bide the blastes, and puffe of euery winde,
Whose bellowes blowes, to hinder well wonne fame,
when doe well shall, in spight possesse good name.
If ship passe storme, and tries the surging seas,
comes quiet home, to harber in a roade,
Man must of force, through torment purchace ease,
and must beleeue, great burthen is no load.
And so bace ragges, whereof is no account,
through straining hard, past tenter hookes may mount,
And bodie cost, and tumbled vp and downe,
may come to rest, and reap right rare renowne.
Mans secrete faultes, and foule defects of minde,
must be reformde, like ragges in Paper mill,
When hammers help, hath changde his cankered kinde,
and clensde[?] the heart, from spots and former ill.
A second shape, and forme full fresh and new
he doth receiue, in nature grace and hiew.
When Water streames hath washt him ouer quite,
than man becomes, like paper faire and white.
If Water were as scant as deerest wine,
how should this world mainteine each science heere?
In Water thin there dwels a power diuine,
where face is seene, as in a Christall cleere.
An Element that euery creature needes,
wherein full oft both fowle and fishes breedes:
Whereby a world of people daily liue,
and God to man doth manie a blessing giue.
What earth or soyle can flourish where it wants?
colde Water sweete doth coole the scalded brest,
The drops whereof doth comfort hearbes and plants,
and graces great by Water is possest.
Then muse not man, if Water thee reforme,
that art but earth, and foode for scraling worme,
A bladder pufte with winde and ayer full thinne,
that can not bide the push of baggage pinne.
Our finest coyne of siluer or of golde
in grossest sort is handled as ye knowe,
And beaten long, and thumped treble folde
before it doth for currant money goe.
The wollen cloth that from the walkemill comes,
at first must passe, through manie handes and thums:
Yea washt and walkt with Water where it goth,
ere it do take his breadth and thicknes both.
What linnen, lawne, or cambricke can be white,
if Water do not throughly wash the same:
It scowres that cleane, that is as dunne as Kyte,
and brings fowle cloth in perfect forme and frame.
All slubbred things must néedes be washt anue,
fowle things are nought, if prouerbe olde be true.
Thus prooue I plaine, by course of Water mill,
and hammering world, mens manners changeth still.
Though some do say, in France and other place,
are Paper mils, as fayre and straunge as this,
Whats that to vs, this giues our Country grace,
and to all Kent, a double honor is.
That in the soyle, was borne our worthy Quéene,
by straungers meane, so straunge a worke is séene:
And straungers are, so glad with straunge deuice,
to serue and please, our Prince of péerelesse price.
In other Realmes, there milles are not in woorth,
scarce halfe so good, the proofe may well be founde,
This is so fine, with workmanship set foorth,
so surely built, and planted in the ground.
That it doth séeme, a house of some estate,
a Mill moste rare, a worke deuisde of late,
Whose goodnesse great, excéedes the outward showe,
and from whose stampe, shall publike profite flowe.
And troth to tell, the mill is blacke and white,
and Water doth worke all the Paper there,
The sight thereof, shall bréede more rare delight,
than man with eye, beholdes in many a where.
This somewhat more, may moue a maruell héere,
no profite may, be reapt in many a yéere,
The author than, of this newe Paper Mill,
bestowes great charge, and gaynes but worldes goodwill.
Death may preuent, his hope and purpose too,
death cuts off all, from him if it so hap,
If losse so fall, what then shall Spilman doe,
but so receiue, the losses in his lap.
This daunger great, deserueth some regard,
or of the worlde, doth merit some reward,
Giue him good speech, (as reason doth require,
yéelde duety, so the labror hath his hire.
An high Germaine he is as may be prooude,
In Lyndoam Bodenze borne and bred:
And for this Mill may héere be truly loude
and praysed too, for déepe deuice of head.
But if the hope of gaine quit not the cost,
the world will iudge his labour is but lost.
To hazards hap he doth commit the same,
and séemes as yet to care for naught but Fame.
Wealth, wit and time, with toyle and trauaile great,
he plyes a pace, and spareth for no charge,
The Mill goes round, the workmen moyle and sweate,
the streame goes straight, that earst ranne all at large,
The whéeles conueyes the Water diuers wayes,
the Hammers thump, the stamp but seldome stayes:
The ragges and clowts, becomes as white as snowe,
and all these knackes, the master néedes must knowe.
Whose purse, whose paynes, and purpose is not small,
whose plot, points out, a peece of worke right fayre,
To hinder none, but made to please vs all,
to which braue Mill, do thousandes still repayre.
To sée what things, are wrought by cunning skill,
to Gods great prayse, and Princes honor still,
And to the place, and soyle where it doth stand,
a goodly grace, and Paper neere at hand.
Loe heere how man to paper is comparde,
that readie is to take both stampe and print
Though triall great, and manie a passage hard,
more stiffe than steele that strikes out fire from flint:
But though most hard the path and passage be,
in the right way it sets man franke and free:
That hath bene brought in bondage from his birth,
and makes him seeme a little God on earth.
Full fraught with wit, with Art and science great,
with learned lore, with skill and knowledge deepe,
With giftes diuine, that feares not fortunes threat,
with quick deuice, that can both get and keepe,
With reason such, as rules each other thing,
of Beast and Fowle, the onely Lord and King,
A Prince of all the earthly pleasures héere,
found out with paine, and bought with trauayle déere.

AA

FINIS.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.