Beawtie dishonoured vvritten vnder the title of Shores wife Chascun se plaist ou il se trouue mieux.

Beawtie dishonoured vvritten vnder the title of Shores wife Chascun se plaist ou il se trouue mieux.

Table of contents

Title page

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFVLL SIR EDVVARD Winckfield Knight.

SHORES WIFE.

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SHORES WIFE.

SIgh, sad musde accents, of my funerall verse,

In lamentable grones, (wrought from true pietie)

Sing you the wept song, on her wronged hearce,

Is gratefull obsequie to her mortall deitie:

Sighe: ô; sing Actuallie the bewtie pained,

With bewties wonder honorablie stained.

Bleed pen in blacke teares, dombe, yet pittie mouing

The weeping Elegies to the worthiest faire:

Weepe pen in warme bloud, to the world approuing

How faire, how good, how deare, old age did way her.

Bleed teares: weepe bloud, pen, sing, sighe on her hearce

Her gratefull obsequies in a funerall verse.

Carelesse, so sleepe our Loethe drincking eyes,

In present bewties, deemd deuinely rare

Neglecting th' Ancient wonder time did pryse

For such a trophie as had no compare,

That now she seems as if she had bin neuer,

Whom euen eternitie said should liue for euer.

The high-musde period of the storie reader,

(Wondring or warre, or matter causing terror)

Omits her fortune, to her fates arreader,

(Precisly censuring bewtie by her error)

So she that euen the fairest she surmounted,

Now of the fairest, is the fowlest counted.

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So variablie diuers in her willing,

When vulgar rumor feedes on base suspect,

Impeaching ielousie the best worth ylling

Augments the matter of the least defect

And bad suggestions secretly inuected

Giue vild dishonour to the thing suspected.

For whilst not priuiledgd from monster fame,

The bewtie (of the not so faire inuyed)

Lyes subiect to dishonorable name,

With hate, and emulous surmises eyed,

We finde it dayly true amongst the best

He's most inuyed most exceeds the rest.

Hence haps her fortune to be yld so much,

Whom fourth king Edward, excellently prised,

And hence it haps, because there was none such,

Shores wife, most faire, the most fowle is surmised

And hence it haps, that dead to all disdaine her

Her wronged ghost suruyueth to complaine her

Who whilst she liud the subiect of impietie,

Ground of a thousand voyces disagreeing,

The matter of vnhollowed fames varietie,

(Which from her good hap had vnworthie being)

Euen on her dying bed deuinely sorrie,

Pensiue in hart she weepes forth thus her storie.

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But when backe flying from her paled cheeke,

Bash full Aurora did recall her red:

And white-lockte Hyems, on her face did seeke,

His Iuorie mantle, doubting she were dead:

When red fled white, white red, and both had left her

And wan apparance of her faire had reft her.

When sincking downe, weaknesse dissolud her eyes,

From vitall spirites Actuallie mouing,

To waterish heauinesse dimd in drooping wise,

In slow neglecting lookes their end approuing,

And with their often opening toward heauen

Seemd of their vertue and their powre bereauen.

When through her oft and soft, expyring breath,

(That still reentring mou'd her panting breast)

She seem'd with euery sigh to draw in death,

That willing gaspes held her eternall rest,

Then when her head heauie did leane awry

Seeming euen then she could not doe but dye,

First teares, deuining speech, denouncing passion,

That meete in greatnesse of their seuerall motions

Fall from her eyes in that vnwilling fashion,

Argued her hartes greefe, and her greefes commotions,

Teares, the harts dombe pleas: (words with greefe restrained)

Like loath departing pearles her eyes downe rayned.

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Then through transparance of the white was left her,

Freshly peeres secret glorie of her bloud,

When euen that death, of life that would haue reft her

With feare and reuerence amazed stood,

Doubting, though at the last gaspe she did lye,

A bewtie so deuine could neuer dye,

When teares the mother issue of greefes restraint

(Bound in the greatnesse of their owne condition)

Passiue in Action, had performd complaint,

In seene, not heard plea of her harts contrition,

When eyes were dim, when panting she lay wan,

Teares hauing playd their part, her toung began.

Ah whence shall I quoth she, (she wept agayne

Opening her eyes, opening her handes to heauen)

Produce the storie of my liues remayne:

My life of hap: I of my life bereauen.

Or why should I vnto the world complaine me

If all the world for my mishap disdayne me?

Then where from siluer streamed Isis lying,

Sylent in Swans: and quyet in her brookes,

Forsaken Thames, into her selfe backe flying,

With muddie countnance, and vnwilling lookes,

As discontent, doth make her sad resorte

As farre as now decayeng Caesars forte:

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There recordes witnesse of mine education,

And vulgar Parentes, of a meane degree,

To whom my dying day hath iust relation:

Yet was this meane a happie meane to me:

That liuing fayrest farre aboue the best,

Haplesse in life, in death I might be blest.

But madding thoughtes, ambitious of promotions,

Nurst in suspect of ages alteration,

As swolne with furie of the mindes commotions,

Deemes all things doubtfull, breedes not contentation,

And this did discontent their mindes did guide me,

That being young, there were too many eyde me

For looke how matter, admirably rare,

Drawes musing thoughts, to studdying contemplation:

And time not hable to produce compare,

Confermes the wonder with more admiration:

So, and such was my bewties quaint compare

Wonder it selfe did make me more then rare:

Yet humble, honorable, chast, and deuine,

True looking, pure, and bashfully reflecting,

Were all the honors of my mayden eyne:

In perfect Act true modestie affecting:

And this Decorum I did euer seeke

To grace my bewtie with a blushing cheeke.

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Myne eye no looke, no wanton wincke affected,

(The false fayre notes of Syren incantations)

No rash gase of immodestie detected,

My chast minde, bent to wandering alterations,

And yet, nor quoy, nor prowd my lookes were wayd

But purely such, as might befit a mayd.

Straunge gestures vsde not I, nor quaint behauing:

Such as the seeming loath-to-looke, do practise

With fainte denyall absolutely crauing:

(The outward fault wherein dishonest lacke lyes)

To these I left the light behauiours leaning

As moderne subtleties of immodest meaning.

But in my lookes, ciuilitie, and cheare,

Bashfull, and decent, did import a purenesse:

And where my bewtie brightest did appeare,

A low regard argued a perfect surenesse:

That euen the graces seem'd to say with mee,

If I were not, them selues could neuer bee.

Angell aspects, of gazing window wonders,

Angling at eyes, with bewtie in the ayre:

Bewties that nature from apparance sunders,

With stolne shame of imaginarie fayre:

These like to monsters euer I esteemed,

VVorship their owne selues, for a bewtie deemed.

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I lookt: and in my decensie precise:

(Yet women looke, one, to enuie an other)

I found that euen the ancient wholy wise,

Their young conceipts yet in their age did smother

And euen the crooked old should now dispaire

At least do hold them selues pure aged faire.

And infant younglings, sucking from their mother,

Selfe-like-dregs, of vnwomanly surmises,

Add boldnesse to the mallice enuies other,

For euen the young begins as bewtie rises:

And this peculier to their sexe did see.

Both old, and young and all would fairest bee:

VVhich when my selfe in more iuditiall measure,

(Growne to conceipt vpon mine owne perfection:)

Saw held of all men, yearthes eternall treasure,

And of the most n'er worse then sweet subiection:

Disposd to vertue, chastitie did will me,

Leaue selfe conceipt, for selfe conceipt did ill me:

VVhen intertaining to my bewties honor,

The true instructions chastitie did teach me:

Noting what hap, what heauen did wayt vpon her,

VVhilst no dishonoring blemish did impeach me,

By nature and desire to this disposed

Soone had my will my thoughtes thereto imposed.

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I saw my selfe was absolutely faire,

Yet alterd not that vertue to a sin,

I knew a small fault quickly would impaire

The purest bewtie that should fall therein.

I saw the sin, and saw that most had done it,

And yet I had the grace to know and shunne it.

My thoughts that then were bashfull, pure, and true

Cleane from impietie: from ill: from stayne:

Of nature wise, had reason to eschew

The thing my nature did so much disdaine:

I saw both bewtie and the good that blist it.

Yet by seducing errour I haue mist it:

For loe, those eyes, whom ielousie had fram'd,

To false suggestions of mine vnstain'd youth:

VVhat they misdeem'd, deuiningly they blam'd,

Fearing suspect might after turne to truth:

VVhen seing my selfe (cleane in thought and deede)

Vnworthy blam'd: my hart begun to bleede:

Then waxt I wanton as I grew to see,

Doting suspect dishonour me so much,

My selfe, yet chast, and pure, defam'd to bee,

And to be deem'd false, though I were not such.

And this was euen the first cause that I wrought false

That though I were yet true, yet I was thought false.

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Such hap they haue, haue such attending eyes,

Needlesly carefull of the not transgressing:

But carefull parents do the worst surmise

In doubted errour secretly redressing:

Yet oft we see, so carefull some do proue

They kill their car'de for with their too much loue.

Which proofe confirm'd in me was lou'd too much:

Whose bewtie then, when in her Aprill grace,

It stood vnequal'd, fellowed with none such,

As might the excellencie of my fayre abace:

Loe then began my bewtie first to weame

When first my bewtie gan to be extreame.

My fathers house obscure, and I not knowne,

But cloisterd vp to secresie, and sadnesse,

My frendes misdoubting that as I was growne,

Tempting desire might win my will to badnesse

Wise-indiscrete, perforce they me constrained

To wed my selfe to one that I disdained.

Then holy rites of matrimonie vowed,

I sold my bewtie, and my selfe vnwilling,

To him, to whom I, and my bewtie bowed,

Not for his loue, but for his mindes fulfilling.

For though in byrth my match did equall me

My bewtie was vnfit for such as he.

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And I that scorning tributarie loue:

Should haue enioyn'd me to an after duetie,

Fearing his vnrespect of me might proue,

Th'incapable tyrant of my subiect bewtie.

Before our contract came vnto conclusion:

I knew his loue would be my liues confusion.

Yet miser auarice: (doting ayme of promotions)

Gaping at rich showres of a golden age,

As feed prowd vultors by the windes commotions,

Act monster wonders in a wealth rage

Carelesse to what accompt the faire be wed

Nor forcing discord of a loathed bed:

Who sees the secrets of that widow thought

The silent musings, and the discontent

Mouing impatience in her minde hath wrought.

Whose bewtie's subiect to inforst content?

Or how may we thincke she her passion brookes

That dares not speake but plead her greefe in lookes.

Discenting vnitie of a discord bed,

Burning in vapours of suggestious quyet,

Strain'd concord of th'infortunatly wed,

Dissembling loue; and framing wonders by it

Who seeth this, may quickly iudge the ill

That minde indures is wed against her will.

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In her raynes ielousie full of a selfe suspect,

Deeming all eyes as doubling as her owne,

Fearing her selfe, her owne selfe might detect

(For she thincke, what to her to all is knowne)

And this is still peculier to her vayne

To hate the thing she feares may doubt agayne.

Which haps from hence, that she suspecteth euer,

That aduerse ielousie will come and see,

The close wrought Act her secresies indeuor,

And Acte againe, gainst her as close as shee,

And though no fault nor any deed detectes her

Yet will she hate the thing she feares suspectes her.

Thus waking to her selfe and watching all:

Discentious vnion in her selfe discording:

Fearing the fortune worthie may be fall.

Onel' in a diuers Sympathie according:

By feare and doubt vnto her worst hap led

Thus doth she worke still in th'vnwilling bed.

She shrynes her greefe vp in a secret fashion,

(Which musing silence Agonies increase,)

And euer dombe, in discontented passion,

She shakes her head, and sighes, and holdes her peace:

Her greefe and feare is such she cannot say it

Till her complayning eyes in teares bewray it.

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Looke how discountnanst in her eyes slow mouing

(The wakefull residence of a discontent,)

Heauely sighted, sad quyet sits approuing,

The awd condition of enforst content

And how her drooping, notes her myndes disquyet

To be so great she seemes downe wayed by it.

Marke how the down cast lookes her eyes reflect,

Argues her life, sequestred from her mindes ease:

And euery gesture, secretly detect,

The note of silent passion neuer findes ease:

And though she seemes vnwilling to bewray it,

Yet in that seeming so she seemes to say it.

She sits and heares, euen passionatly attentiue,

How better fortunes ioy the happie wed,

When in a sodaine thought hartely pensiue

She castes her eyes vp, and she shakes her head

VVhilst many thoughtes concurring all in one

Makes her greeu'd soule yeeld forth a deadly groane.

Loe so vnited to a discontent,

Departed from my selfe, to liue t'vnkindnesse,

Too soone my ill-bestow'd youth did repent,

My parentes auarice, and desaster blindnesse,

That could not see the loathing that is bred,

In discordiarring of an vnkind bed:

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And what is worse: ô this is interdicting,

The fellow ioyings of a true met loue,

More then her owne ill, this is still inflicting,

Which neuer did the willing bridgroome proue,

That loues but one, and gaynes such good thereby

He's lou'd againe and so doth liue and dye.

But soone had Sutor eyes, with priuie looke,

Noted the loathing that I bare vnto him,

And mou'd by this, they quickly vndertooke,

Or shame, or some dishonorable Acte to doe him:

And that this might better performed be,

They seem'd to mallice him, and pittie me.

As song the Syrens to the wandring knight,

Th'illusiue stanzaes of their charming song:

Pleasing th'Attentiue eare with sweet delight,

But hatefull Actors of intended wrong:

So sweetly song they songs of loue to me,

They seem'd, or Syrens, or more sweet to be.

For looke how in a solitarie guise

The virgine querester of the listning night,

Chantes her sweet descant, in a flattering wise,

Togayne her litle freedome if she might:

And sings the sweeter by how much the more

She mindes the libertie she had before.

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So when imprison'd in precise constrainte,

Myne eye kept watch and my brow tyrannised:

Those that their free enlargement did awayte,

In arguing pratle sweetly subtelised:

And as their passion did increase in feare,

It pleasd so much the more my straunger eare.

And so much more as doth the churlish riche,

Keepe gold the safer, as the culler's pure

So much the more my bewtie did bewich,

Them to continuance as they were more sure:

And these I knew so well to entertaine.

They would not leaue loue, to be free agayne.

For liueth that Philosophie precise

Whom documentes haue quyte strain'd from this?

Liueth that ancient old, and aged wise,

Whom yeares haue knowne to make to hate their blisse?

Then blame not yeouth if want only he wooes:

Since doting old and bookewise cannot choese.

Nor let my bewtie be impeacht with this,

That I was woman like, though Angell fayre,

For him doth puretie fortunately blisse,

That is not blemisht with some blacke impayre:

For this we see almost in things deuine

T'is quickly stayned is the purest fine.

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Neuer did flocke to old Vlisses Queene,

In wearie absence of her straying knight,

Neuer more woers in her court were seene,

(Although perhaps more worthie persons might)

Then there were Sutors still importun'd me

For I presume I was as fayre as she

Nor could my seeming true to him I chose,

Giue answere to their often suites renuing

My fained loue to this, fayn'd hate to those,

Could be no obstacle to their euer suing:

And I not knowing quaintly to disdaine them

Through want of Arte was forst to intertaine them.

When oft intreaties breeding emulation

In the corriuall thoughts of fellow louers,

Wrought quyte chang'd being, and straunge alteration,

As oftner vowes their constancie discouers:

For that will issue to her full perfection

Hath grounded being by the mindes affection.

Then equall in my thoughtes making compare,

T'wixte old forlorne, and personally young:

I quickly saw th' Abuse my bewtie bare,

And my harts greefe sat fresh vpon my toung:

When noting this, my hart began to cry:

And I exclaim'd against a doting eye:

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What Sympathie of loue (quoth I) can be

Twixte crooked old, and excellently fayre

Discording yeares will euer disagree,

As different age to graue doth make repayre:

And this to old men proper still doth proue,

To sigh they are so old they cannot loue.

Such one was he rest my youth of her blisse,

He could no more of loue, his dayes were don:

Crookt old, and cold, his yeares deny'd him this,

And therefore greeu'd he had so soone begun

ôist not greefe that age should so defame

The reuerent title of so graue a name.

But how can I, how can all woemen brooke this,

Decrepit yeares from pleasure should restrayne them?

Ner liu'd they happie day that vndertooke this

But of their fortune after did complaine them:

For what is dotage that we should affect it

Or moody age that women should respect it.

Old quyte for lorne and ouerworne with yeares,

He makes an infant humour of his age,

And in his lined browes dotage appeares,

A witlesse babie in a louing rage:

And such a humour in his sences rayne,

And being old he's made a child agayne,

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He calls his Kate, and she must come and kisse him,

Doting his madded loue vpon her face:

Hee thinckes her smile hath where withall to blisse him,

Thus franticques his loue to the fayres disgrace

Which not withstood she dares not say him no

ô ist not pittie bewtie's vsed so.

But do not therefore blame the tripping fayre

For euen the fayrest hath her imperfection:

Let not precise respect the lighter way her,

For euen the mayden seeming hath affection:

And now a dayes the chast deuout will show loue,

That hauing learn'd they may the better know loue.

Let th' ancient doting therefore be precise

The quicke ey'd young will haue a time to wincke it,

Outward apparance can deceaue his eyes,

And she play wanton when he doth not thincke it,

For this as sure as selfe truth shall insue

If age be ielious youth must be vntrue.

Suggesting feare shall make the newly wed,

Be false, because she feares she is suspected,

And feare by Arte, to fayning shalbe led,

To double closly with the false affected:

For what is their arm'de fortune better noting

Then double Act t'expresse their priuie doting?

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So may his mariage bed a loue bewray,

Is fayning true and fearefully rebellious,

Whom after age in time to come shall say,

Is doting old, and cold, and foolish ielious:

And let this title from his name n'er sunder

He's loues head monster and his armed wonder.

But leauing this an ordinarie shame,

To that graue being of a reuerent age,

Whose ag'de graue decensie it doth defame,

With madding matter of an idle rage:

As made her monster by her childish follie

Is reuerent old, and honorable whollie,

Of oft intreating sutors I will say,

Whose often vowes tempt me to further sin,

And hoping time my frayltie might bewray,

They vse all art to teach me to begin:

Yet though I lou'de not him that I had chose,

I knew not how to candescend to those:

But hence grew hate, for now I grew admired,

And by degrees begun to learne to sin,

Then when I saw I was so much desired,

I seem'd transform'd as I had neuer bin.

And selfe opinion wrought so strong effect

As now I grew to leaue all chast respect.

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For chastitie by wyles grew to be cold,

My modest bewtie gan to alter wanton,

I that from me, my selfe, my selfe had sold,

Found this hard fortune for my hart to panton

I now began to exercise myne eye

And gase on all would gase aswell as I.

My speech from humble, decent, pure, and true,

That hid no secresie in a plainly meaning,

To Courtlike, wanton, pleasant did insue:

I left my nature to my follies wearing:

And I by practise learn'd the worst so well

In wanton arte the best I could excell:

Thus I both wild and absolutely fayre,

Charm'd with my bewtie, with my wyles allured;

My want of shame, myne honor did impayre,

As long as I my selfe to sin inured,

Which if I sin'd or did with sin dispence,

My life must say, (to whom I was offence:)

Yet not defam'd for other fault then those,

The wanton Cittie-dwelling counte their grace,

But euery toung vpon suspect did glose,

And being apt new made reports t'imbrace

I now was fam'd the fayrest she was euer,

(Which fame in that age was extinguisht neuer.)

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For sooner had no motiues of desire,

Taught me to exercise my witt, and bewtie;

But my conceipt could set delight on fire

And wanton lookes impriuiledge all dewtie

And I grew fayrer and the oftner named

As quainte conceipt me for delightfull famed.

When loe: (for who liues so hid so obscure

So secret from the world, remote from eyeng,

As holdes him selfe of doubtfull talke so sure,

But fame into his fortunes will be pryeng?)

Euen then when we of obscure life doe boast

It proues at last that then w'are knowne the most.

For then pronouncing from incertaine thought,

Th'vngrounded storie of a lyer muse:

What secresie from subtle eyes had wrought,

Incertaine fame with falshood will abuse:

Fame secret witnesse to the guilt conceald

Mads all infurie till it be reueal'd.

Mindfull remembrer of a secret will,

(If secret may import worthie dishonor)

The periur'd counsailor of the close wrought ill,

False testimonie of a hope, relyeng on her,

Both truth, and falshood, in one period bounding,

Contrarie to her selfe, her selfe confounding:

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False glosing toung, credulities relye,

Error of nature, bad seede of base sedition,

Suspectes false daughter, neuer borne to dye,

Nurst of Erinnis, and of false suspition:

Prou'd all the worldes plague and inur'd to sin:

Happie had I liu'd, hadst thou neuer bin:

For till thou first with thine vnhappie storie,

Ecchoing relations of my worth and me:

Intitul'dst my name to my bewties glorie,

Vnworthie knowne, of such a worth to be

Though not performed in so royall measure

Yet then I ioy'd a life of quyet pleasure:

So fares th'infortunate whom monster fame,

Glosing, ambitious, false mus'd, makes her subiect,

Enioyn'd by prayse, to bide eternall shame

And rest the worldes dishonorable obiect

Such fate had I, that was so highlie famed

First to be held fayre, after euer shamed.

For now ambitious in her fabling humor,

Vnto my king, my bewtie she dispences,

To whom sh'impartes a wonder working rumor,

In speech Authenticall, to charme his sences:

With Acte his eyes his eares, with wordes she won,

His hart, his loue, his soule, ere she had don.

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She seemed sober hartie and precise,

Framing her false lookes to a pleading fitnesse:

T'vnthought-on truth sh'adaps her humbled eyes

And euery Acte seem'd her tales truth to witnesse:

And what she thought could win the king she wrought-on

In Acte, and speech she let not passe vnthought-on.

So as when at his oracles disclosing,

Deuining Proteus, prophesying small thinges

His selfe from culler from his shape disposing,

Deludes the sutor hold by seeming all thinges

Making him selfe a monster to the vew

Before deceite can bring him to tell trew:

Monster fame so, deuining on supposes:

Suspitious of her selfe, (her selfe a lyer:)

In altering tales her flatterie discloses

VVrought to report ill by her owne desire

Whilst that the king credits her tale for truth

Which after turn'd a shame vnto his youth.

For had she bin more ready to report-it

His apt beleefe had sooner giuen it credit:

His willing harkning eare did well import-it,

Was so attentiue to the tale that spread it:

For this fault euen is incident to kinges

Too much to credit ouer pleasing thinges

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She told him now my bewties Aprill bud,

Fresh bloom'd in honor of my flowring prime:

In high degrees of excellencie stood,

Ages admire, and wonderment of time,

Amongst the best, so farre exceeding many:

As it was neuer seconded by any:

(Quoth she) behold how in her wanton fayre,

Rosie Pallantias (new stolne from her bed)

Blusheth her glorie on the morning ayre,

In bashfull decensie of vermillion red:

And from his stand the Northerne watchman frayes

With brighter comming of her sommer rayes:

Or as: whilst Thetis in her cu'ning greeting,

Smileth her purple on the suns decline,

And with her Tytan in the West seaes meeting,

Appeares a wonder, bashfully deuine,

Such is her face (quoth she) her selfe so fayre,

She seemes as bewtious as the eu'ning ayre.

Hast thou not seene how in her hemispheare

The morninges henchman, and the starre of loue

Vales in her bewtie at the suns appeare

And seemeth dim'd his glorie to approue?

Euen so her eyes (quoth she) exceedes so farre

As doth the sonne the sitting morning starre.

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More bewtie, more deuine doth her adorne,

Then all Diana's, mesken virgins graces

Those froes that in the dewy of the morne

Trip on the flowres in those silent places,

To which the feathered queresters resort

And chante them many a musicall report.

Oft haue I seene, when to the strond of Po,

The floating swans did make their last repayre,

And siluer plum'd, as white as any snow

Blemisht Indimions Scynthia in her faire:

Yet n'er did she, neuer did they excell:

The Iuorie white vpon her brow doth dwell.

As when before old sleepie Tython dawnes

(Dew'd in the wept teares of Auroraes eyes,)

Sweet sauoring flowers of the meddow lawnes,

With sweet perfumes, vp into heauen arise

So breathes her brethes perfume, so sweetly smelling

It seem's her breath the flowers are excelling.

Sung neuer at Euridices redeeming

The Thracian Harper to the god of hell

A song more honor worth, worth more esteeming

Yet Orpheus touch pleased deuinly well

Nor yet Arion euer so behau'd him

Although he song so sweet the Dolphin sau'd him.

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Nor that old man, whose musicall recordes

The following walls of ancient Theb's did reare:

Nor Poean, pleasing in her sweet accordes

The curious iudgement of the nycest eare

Did euer sound were euer song so well

But her sweet wordes, her voyce doth farre excell.

N'er did her Nymphes, at bold Acteons gase,

Nor combly Phoebe: (seene with priuie eye)

Mans sence, mans thought, with sweeter smiles amase

With richer glorie, of a wealthier dye,

Then would this bewtie naked as was shee,

Were you your selfe but priuie too't as hee:

To this she ads (ô straunge impietie)

Vitious intycements of alluring sin,

And with licentious wordes, altering varietie,

She drownes his sences, and him selfe therein:

So well the Syren knew her song to sing,

She soone had luld a sleepe the willing king:

And that she might the better bring to passe,

Shame to my Lord, her selfe, and shame to mee,

She ads how wanton, bucksome, young I was

Fit consorte with his yonger yeares to bee

And when at length she had discourst her fill,

Away she flyes: abhominable ill.

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But he that standes inchanted with the wonders,

By secret stealth dishonorable sin,

Him from his sence, his sence from vertue sunders

And now in madding loue lust doth begin,

And that fowle stayne his furie is incenst with

By maiestie (saith he) shall be dispenst with:

Then to myne eares (diuyning my misfortune,)

Secret reportes came whispering straunger wonders,

And with their oratorie pleas myne eares importune.

Whilst blind conceipt me from my good hap sunders:

With charming profers still my king salutes me

As one for absolutest fayre reputes me.

And those, to whom he secretly commended,

The inquisition of my bewties being:

Those my attract, my chaunge of fortune tended

My bewties worth and excellencie seing:

Reporte my bewtie to be so deuine;

As now he prysed none so much as myne:

And soone had giftes, soone had my Lordes desire,

My soule from chastitie, my selfe from me,

With often presents taught how to retire

Tasting the profers of a high degree:

And then me thought though I ner prou'd before

A kings imbrace was euen a heauen or more:

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Loe then to Court, vnto my king I came,

Monarke aspect of my recusant eye:

Myne eye, the matter of my bodies shame,

As long as shame, or sinne were nurst thereby,

With niggard fauor, at the first did seeme,

As one that held his crowne scarce worth esteeme.

For now my scholler eyes had learn'd to fashion

Their lookes authenticall, and quainte precise:

My quoynesse argued a straunger passion,

To make him so, more plyant to myne eyes:

And I, whom he esteemed easie won

Made him my subiect, ere myne eyes had don:

For now I saw: when equallie precise,

He saw the honor was due worth my bewtie:

My browes recusancie gan tyrannise,

And of my king exact a tribute dutie

And if he profered loue, I would forsake it

For woemen first say no, and then they take it.

I wrought so well, my face did seeme to say,

I prysed chastitie, but euen too much:

My apt fram'd countenance seem'd to bewray,

A purposd fermnesse to my seeming such:

And my pretext by working so before:

Was but to make him loue me so much more:

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For now in me varietie of loue,

Had wrought such knowledge, by my seeming prone

As whom I knew quickly sedu'st did proue,

I knew was quickly got, and quickly gone:

And therefore now oppos'd I seem'd the stronger,

That late ere won, I might be lou'd the longer.

For when I saw, him fawningly respect me,

I playd vpon him with a straunger No:

And so much more I saw he did affect me,

As I seem'd further of in saying so,

Yet then I knew my quoynesse so might proue

A king would hardly bow too low to loue.

In equall meane, therefore did I containe

Th'impatience of my seeming loath to sin,

No beggar humblenesse my face did staine,

With apt desire to throw my selfe therein:

And if my quoynesse made him loath to wooe

Then would I lend him smiles, and kisses too,

Nor did I in denying faintly so

But secretly seeme to desire agayne,

The hoped profers my consenting No,

In secret wish already did containe:

But long alasse could not persist therein

For ere I left I sold my selfe to sinne.

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Who sees the chast liu'd Turtle on a tree,

In vnfrequented groues sit and complaine her?

Whether alone all desolate poore shee,

And for her lost loue seemeth to restraine her?

And there sad thoughted howleth to the ayre

The excellencie of her lost-mates fayre?

So I when sinne had drown'd my soule in badnesse,

To solitarie muse my selfe retired:

Where wrought by greese to discontented sadnesse,

Repentant thoughtes, my new won shame admired,

And I the monster of myne owne misfortune

My hart with grones, and sorrow did importune.

Behold (quoth I) how in her Iuie hidden

The eu'nings shame, Pallas adulterate fowle,

The sitting sonnes sight, and the day forbidden,

With a sherle scritch her former sinne doth howle:

And peering in the day but from her tree

Is wonderd at of all the byrdes she see:

So haps to thee, whom so thy sinne hath shamed

And made the night-eyes wonder of thy tyme:

So haps to thee, that hath thy selfe defamed,

In tender springing of thine Aprill pryme

But now too late t'haue sin'd thou doest repent thee,

When thou hast lost the good that nature lent thee.

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A wonderment, and monster of her age,

Following posteritie will account thy fall;

And this which euen no passion can asswage,

Nor mittigate thy payned soule with all:

When death in graue shall low haue layne thy head

Thou shalt be yet desam'd when thou art dead.

Thus in thy life, thus in thy death, and boath,

Dishonored by thy fact, what mayst thou doe?

Though now thy soule the touch of sinne doth loath,

And thou abhorst thy life, and thy selfe too:

Yet cannot this redeeme thy spotted name,

Nor interdict thy body of her shame:

But he that could command thee, made thee sin:

Yet that is no priuiledge, no sheeld to thee:

Now thou thy selfe, hast drownd thy selfe therein.

Thou art defam'd thy selfe, and so is hee:

And though that kings commands haue wonders wrough▪

Yet kings commands could neuer hinder thought.

Say that a Monarke may dispence with sin,

The vulgar toung proueth impartiall still,

And when mislike all froward shall begin,

The worst of bad, and best of worst to ill,

A secret shame in euery thought will smother

For sinne is sinne in kinges, as well as other:

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And yet agayne, when to suspition wrought,

I saw the holly sinne, and sullen game,

Whilst secret acte disclos'd no hidden thought,

To preiudice an honorable name:

And those to be such saints that best could seeme such

As one would thincke suspition would not deeme such.

Loe, too secure of variable rumor

I gaue my selfe to pleasing disposition:

Loue charming wantonesse and delightfull humor,

Forst now no longer peeuish eyed suspition,

And I thought none could testifie my fault

Because I thought there was not any saw't.

And though my life had staine, yet this did mend it,

That I was sorrie such an one to be,

My pittie my respect did still commend it,

And this was commendably praysd in me,

That Sutor wrongs my selfe to right would bring

If right might be procured from the king.

And now so deem'd so highly was I prysed,

No honor was too good, too great for mee,

I could commaund what euer thought deuised,

Delight to sence, or ioyes to mynde to bee:

And whilst I sat seated alone so highe,

The king could but command and so could I.

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But long my fortune had not traded so,

In doubt full highnesse of prosperitie:

Ere murder death had fram'd a worser woe,

A true example vnto all posteritie:

That those that mount so high so farre and fast,

In tract of tyme come headlong downe at last.

For now, the doomes day of my fortune's neere,

The day, the dome, peculier vnto all,

Now in a death vnthought-on doth appeere,

My bewties ruine and myne honors fall

Such sightes are these vnto the pleased eye

As are not sooner seene then they doe dye.

So as when for his drown'd sonne pensiuly sorrie,

Three times in blacke, three times his golden vrne,

The sadder eye of heauens restrained glorie,

In blacke, and heauie secresie did burne;

And moodie, by restraining so his light,

In three dayes absence brought a triple night.

Or as, when from some high clift sadly looking,

A mistie tempest from the South ariseth,

And disagreeing blastes no sayles stop brooking,

The merrie sea-mans wandering barke surpriseth

We sorrow at the sight vpon the shore

But in the barke would sorrow ten times more.

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So now, eternall night, now desolation,

Deuining horror to the nighted land:

Insues to all by sodaine alteration,

That of a tyrant ill suspected stand:

But I whom this imported most of any

Where all had but one feare: I one, had many.

Ah death old father of our common end,

Nurst of the mother night, and discontent

Inuying hatreds neuer pleased frend,

Incertaine accedent, and vnknowne euent,

In what so much haue I offensed thee,

That by my kinges death thou shouldst murther mee?

Thou art the father cause I am forlorne,

It was thy too much pittie that procur'd this,

Why didst not make me dye ere I was borne?

That being dead I might not haue indur'd this?

Cruell in what may harme in what may ill me

But thrise more cruell that thou wouldst not kill me.

Did my face feare thee from thy murdering will

That being young, thou letst me liue so long?

Or hauing such a bewtie at thy will,

Thoughtst thou the rape would be esteem'd a wrong?

O if thou didst, withall thou wild'st that I,

Should liue so long that I should shame to dye:

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It was the auarice of thy list to kill,

Founded my downefall on my kinges decease:

Such is thy nature, and so much so ill:

One murder with a second to increase:

But thus we see who on a king relyes

Findes death a liue whilst liuing yet he dyes.

See how my end brought me to my confusion

The common wonder of the wisest eye

My end the period and my liues conclusion

Turnes to my deathes shame, that I greeue to dye:

And that whereof dying I am ashamed,

I greeue to liue because I liue defamed,

Dead vnto life, liuing vnto my death,

The end of shame, and yet my shames beginning:

Thus doe I araw the selfe disdayning breath,

Hath worthie shame by myne vnworthie sinning

And whilst at once I would both liue and dye

I doe them both yet am not cur'd thereby.

For when true penitencie doth begin,

With contrite sorrow, and repentant zeale,

To mynde the greatnesse of displeasing sin:

That shame in hidden silence doth conceale.

When these faultes in our selues our selues doe see

We thincke that all know them aswell as wee.

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But stay thee here, and plaintiu'ly rehearce,

The funerall tenor of thine after fortunes;

O wash his toombe with teares weepe on his hearce,

Whose death gaue life, to greefe that thee importunes:

For now behold vnhappely he dyes,

On whom the essence of my good relyes.

Euen as the gloomie sighted night, with cloudes,

Obscures the sunbright bewtie of the ayre,

And in her deadly looke frowningly shrowdes,

Blacke desolation and forlorne dispayre,

Threatning with sad aspect some future woe,

By blacke deuining lookes presaging so:

So seem'd the blacke ayre, that with fowle aspect,

Feedes lowring heauinesse through a duskie light,

That ouglie looking darknesse doth reflect,

From caued bowells of the fearefull night,

So at his death, darknesse seem'd to bewray,

Eternall blacknesse to the heauie day:

That so dissolu'd to euerlasting feares,

That sun-reft-ages after posteritie,

Might weepe his funeralls in complainyng teares,

As rightes belonging to a dead prosperitie,

And sing his obsequies in consorting woe,

Sorrowing their light should be bereft them so:

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For now their sonne gone to his home for euer,

Pronounces from declining of his rayes,

A worser night with tyrannous indeuor,

Would darke the bewtie of their after dayes

And prowd ambition ayming at a crowne

Would pull the dead kings true-borne issue downe.

When loe, discentious in her owne proceeding

Suspitious in her thoughtes, stil'd in her musing,

Carefully thoughted, on her owne selfe feeding,

With ielious doubt her proper wits abusing

Sighes-and-greefe-breeding feare to heauen doth cry

And wisht with him posteritie might dye

For th'infant liue of his bloud left a pray,

To vultar greedinesse of an easie crowne,

In tyrant practises did soone bewray,

Cruell protection would the land confound,

And then as doubtfull minded as before,

Feare would increase her sorrow ten times more.

Thus stood suspected of incertaine fate

And drawne by oft feares to a dead dispaire

The neuter subiect, that did know too late,

What hell it is to haue a different heyre.

And that which all their discontent had sowne

To haue a king to come not to be knowne.

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Now gan the trembling rich, and fearefull-wanting,

Bequeath their fortunes to their hap of warre,

And trembling woemen-harts, with sorrow panting

Greeue that their fate should be vnknowne so farre

As whilst they yet thought no ill could assay them,

Vnthought-on death should sodaine come and slay them:

And those, whom diuersly-affecting humor,

Drew to the aduerse part an other would not,

When running motions of deceiuing rumor,

Make them affect the matter that they should not

At last exclaime as on a heauie thing

That none should know the man should be their king.

Then what might I doe, where with all to saue,

Me from confusion, that I might not dye,

Now when dead sleeping carelesse in his graue

My king was gone, on whom I did relye,

What rests for me, a poore distressed woman,

But hold me patient at my fortunes sommon?

And what is worse, impriuiledge from hope,

Of my reflowring time, of my new being,

I saw the bandes, I saw the narrow scope,

Wherein my sinne must secret sit from seing:

And this so narrow, and so strickte to be,

As all the world might my misfortune see:

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Why haue myne eyes wept idle teares till now?

Why hath my groning hart sigh'd to releeue me?

Or why hath greefe eclipst my sadded brow?

Since now, I would weepe, grone, and sigh, and greeue me,

And now I neede them, now I can doe none,

For greefe, and sighes, and grones, and teares, be gone,

Weepe eyes, grone hart, greefe sighe and take agayne

Your second quintescence from my second woe,

O neuer will I wast your wet in vayne,

Nor grone, nor greeue, nor sigh, nor weepe you so.

But with my dayes, date all your discontent,

And weepe you truely, till my selfe be spent.

O you are comfort in your issuing motions,

Vnto the mynde with passion is afflicted

Whom wearieng greatnesse of her owne commotions

Of wordes and speech, with greefe hath interdicted.

Werte not for you, th'opressed hart would breake

When greefe doth grow so bigge we cannot speake.

Werte not for you (and yet I want you too)

My harts distresse, that makes you her relye,

Could neuer know, nor how, nor what to doe,

But liue in silence, and in dombnesse dye:

O none can tell, the ease the mynde doth gayne her

When eyes can weepe, th' hart grone, or greefe complaine her

[Page]

But wanton teares haue dryde myne idle eyes,

And wayn'd away the bewtie of my fayre;

My hart, for want of grones distressed dyes,

And sighes are vanisht to vnworthie ayre:

Then what remaynes for me forlorne thereby,

But know my greefe, and hold my peace and dye,

T'is now that I should weepe a thousand teares;

Now, when my starres in fixed opposition,

Denounces sorrow to my greeuing eares,

And tells me I must chaunge my liues condition:

And trust to fauoring destinie no more,

For I must begge my bread, from doore to doore:

What fortune ere thou art enuiest our age,

A tyrant monster, in a madding vayne,

Returne in furie of thy prowdest rage,

And Acte the Scene of all thy hate agayne;

And if ere any bad like woes as I,

Yet giue me ten times more, but let me dye.

Sayd ere Philosophie hell was confind

Below the yearth where neuer any were?

O if it be so, yet withall I finde,

That hell's aboue the yearth as well as there

And neuer could Philosophie approue,

That there was one below but one aboue.

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T'is but th'inuention of th'highe-witted wise,

Allow'd of any there, more then t'expresse,

Th'extreame of tortures, that might tyrannise

Them being dead, that liuing did transgresse:

Nor haue they left vs any confirmation,

But deem'd surmises of imagination;

This t'was rayn'd on the yearth, and prayd on me,

T'was this which I esteem'd a heauen before,

And more infernall cannot any he,

For hell is but extreame, yet this was more:

And we ner know what t'is in heauen to dwell,

Vntill we know what t'is to liue in hell.

O could my wordes expresse in mourning sound,

The ready passion, that my mynde doth trye,

Then, greefe all eares, all sences would confound,

And some would weepe with me, aswell as I:

Where now because my wordes cannot reueale it

I weepe alone inforced to conceale it.

O, and alone, let me weepe myne owne fortunes.

Peculier to my selfe, am woe begone:

Me whom it euer secretly importunes

As willing I should weepe my fate aloane:

O therefore weeping let me liue and dye,

For none can weepe so worthie teares, as I:

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Well may some sorrie, greeuedly supposing,

Suggest a passion excellently strange:

And in true Acte pittifully disclosing

An inward greefe, neere at my fortunes range:

But none can Acte greefe in complaint so right

As he that is him selfe agreeued by't.

O God what error is in natures will,

That nature so vnkinde, so bad should be,

The poore improuident should endure such ill,

As through securitie not this ill to see,

For had I seene before what now I try,

Or I had fear'd to liue, or learn'd to dye.

But ill brookes th'high aspiring thoughtes surmise

Coward respect of vulgar education:

And hungering greedinesse of attempting eyes,

Deeme nor deuine their after alteration,

But minde their mindes will, not their owne condition

Thus mads th'aspiring in her mindes ambition.

This was my fault had worthie fortune by it,

And worthie was it, since I could not see,

How discontent is ordinarie quyet,

To wakefull mindes, that n'er contented be.

To ioye the sweet meane of a low content,

But mount so high they after must repent:

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Had I bin fayre, and not allur'd so soone,

To that, at which all thoughtes leuell their sadnesse

My sunbright day had not bin set ere noone

Nor I bin noted for detected badnesse

But this is still peculier to our state,

To sinne too soone, and then repent too late.

But euen as soard the feathered boy so highe,

(Reaching his infant thoughtes vnto the sonne,)

By whotter rayes, in all his highth did dye,

And gain'd his prides meede ere his pride were done:

So I vnto the low was made the nighest

Whilst now I thought I ouertopt the highest:

For now rain'd tyrannie in ambitious throane,

A true-borne-infant-bloud-spilling murtherer:

Vsurping monster, yet contrould of none,

Fowle guilts Appeale, and mischiefs furtherer,

Prowd Richard Gloster in his pride I saw

Acte all thinges at his will: for will was law.

He sayes (and then he shewes a withered arme

Dryde at his byrth-day lame and vselesse still)

Quoth he t'was thou by charmes wroughtst me this harme

And therefore doomes me to his tyrant will:

For neuer is th'offended mightie Armelesse

To wreake his furie on the hated harmelesse.

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Beare hence quoth he (and there withall reflected

Fire sparkling furie from incensed eyes,

Whose madding threat his lunacie detected,

And told me he was taught to tyrannize)

And then agayne in more incensedrage

He cryes, beare hence this monster of her age.

When loe the seruaunt sworne performeth on me,

Th'vnwilling office of a greeued sorrie:

And whilst he yet layes forced handes vpon me

Noting my bewtie, and my bewties glorie

He does his duetie: yet his loookes doe shoe,

He craueth pardon for his doing so.

For what eye fram'd to enuie and disdayne

Would not inforce the hart to shake the head,

When that pure mayden blush that did destayne

My purple cheeke with fainte vermillon red,

Seem'd constant fayre not chang'd for threatning will

But fearefull true and modest comely still:

I seem'd vnwilling that the tyrant should

By force of will haue tyrant-like compel'd me

And therefore made the litle shift I could

To burst away out of their armes that held me,

But as I strugled bewtie grew the more,

Which seene, they held me faster then before.

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And those vnwilling handes that prayd vppon me

(Happie they held me to behold my bewtie)

Imbraste me faster with still gazing on me,

To feede their eyes-listes not performe their duetie

For had it bin in them I am assured

Such tyrant lawes I should not haue endured.

But he, whom hell nurst-furie hath infected,

Threats death to them, and me that him offended

And from his knitted browes horror reflected,

Th'inraged doome his fellon thoughtes intended:

Impatient, moodie, mad, and full of yre,

He sweares by heauen that shame shalbe my hyre,

Posteritie sayes he (and then agayne

The knit vaynes of his prowdly-looking browes

Swelling with mallice, and extreame disdaine,

Like to an yrefull bore he prowdly bowes)

And sweares by hell heauie reuenge shall date

Th'incenst displeasure of his falling hate,

Posteritie shall know thine Acte (quoth hee)

And then he bids that my attyres be rent,

And termes the habit vnbefitting mee

A Sorcer witch full of her fowle intent:

And that which wordes for anger could not say

A furious acte in iesture did bewray.

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When I reft of my habite and attyre,

Stood yet as modest, as a mayd should be,

Bashfully feared with the new admire,

Of this base tyrants rauishing of mee.

Who not content with this commandes that I,

Be turn'd into the streets and begge or dye.

Euen as an angerie Bull incenst with yre,

Bellowing his menaces with a hollow rore,

Impatient, madd, wanting his lustes dosire,

Augments his madded fiercenesse more and more

And yet no quyet any murther bringes

Although he prayes vpon a thousand thinges.

So vnappeas'd, vnquyet, mad, and yrefull

Rages th'insatiate furie of his will:

And in his looke, fierce, wan, and pale, and dyrefull

He seem's impatient, moodie, madded, still,

And not content with this disgrace to greeue me

He sayes that all shall dye, (that dare relieue me.)

(Then from the Court, the martirdoome of mee,)

All solitarie, alone, forlorne, I went

Thether where discontentment I did see,

Threatning my miserie ere my dayes were spent

And needie want as naked as was I,

Told me that thus perplexed I should dye.

[Page]

When I vnapt to frame alyer-tale,

Vnapt to craue my bread with beggar prayer,

My poore discountnanst looke all wan and pale

Through hungers nature wayned from her fayre

I could not: ôshame would not then that I

Should begge at all but rather choose to dye.

And yet necessitie did vrdge constrainte,

To brooke th'impatience of her proper will,

Whilst silence breaking out to no complainte,

In secret passion hid her sorrow still:

And shame with fearefull blush all greeu'd did cry

And wisht she did but know but how to dye.

Nor could remembrance of my high degree,

Brooke my resorting into publicke place:

For I did sigh as oft as I did see,

Or thincke that any thought on my disgrace

And who dispayres in such a kinde as this

Thinckes that the whole world knoweth all amisse.

But ô, why doe I thus wearie prolong,

The wofull Tragedie of my pleasures wayne,

Suffices that I knew to bide the wrong,

And brooke with patience what I did sustaine,

Idly we greeue when greeuingly we plaine vs,

For that must be perform'd that needes constraine vs.

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I can no more delate my further ill,

T'is sooner iudg'd then told, the greefe is such,

The wise-iuditiall may if so they will,

Sooner conceiue then I can say so much:

Since so much now would call agayne the pryme,

And those that tell greefe feele it for the tyme.

I must (quoth she) addresse my selfe to death,

And therewithall, clasping her handes in one,

And wresting oft sighes with a deepe fetcht breath,

She panteth forth a poore complayning grone,

When closing fast her eyes (first ope to heauen)

She now seem's both of speech and life bereauen.

When coward death, fainting, and fearefull slow,

Lookes on her fayre face, with a vultar eye,

And nils him selfe his force vpon her show,

As doting fearefull she could neuer dye,

And yet he would: and yet he doth dispayre

And feares she cannot dye she is so faire,

And yet her toung now stil'd could say no more

She panted, and she sigh'd, and gaue a grone,

And euen that bewtie was pure-fayrebefore,

Wayn'd with her liues expire, and now was none,

Yet death suspected still, doth still dispayre,

And sayes she cannot dye and be so fayre.

[Page]

For euen as looketh at the sunnes late sitting

A witherd lilly, dry'd, and saplesse quyte,

And in her weakned leaues, inwardly knitting,

Seem's dead: and yet, retaines a perfect white:

So seem'd her face, when now her fayre did fall

That death still fear'd she would not dye at all.

He saw't, and sigh'd, and yet he could not see,

Cause to induce his hope-perswading eye,

To thincke that there was any cause that shee,

Could be so passing fayre and yet could dye:

He thinckes the bewtious neuer life should loose

And yet withall he thinckes, she should not choose:

O what a combat wrought her life and death,

Both clayming interest in her end, to spill her,

Life would not that the fayre should loose her breath:

Death would not loose his right, yet would not kill her,

But lookes vpon her with a curious eye,

Doubting (though she were dead) she could not dye.

At last, perswading palenesse seem's to say,

O she is dead, her breathlesse sences fayled,

Her life hath lost her ioy, her death his pray,

And now nor her life, nor her death auayled,

O then did any euer ought else trye

Then life or death that maketh vs to dye.

[Page]

Death tooke delight in her, vntill she dyed,

Life fed vpon her lookes, he did so way her,

Death and his life vpon her end relied,

And greeuing life likt her she was so fayre

This lent her liuing: that prolong'd her breath,

O then ther's somthing else that kills then death.

For he wisht that he were not death, she might not dye,

Pittieng in this, he greeues he wanteth pietie,

Tyrant in Acte, his will doth this deny

That her death should conferme him in his diety:

And rather then of life he would bereaue her

He would giue leaue to all, to liue for euer,

Rather then she should not, he would not be,

Or to a mortall being he would bow,

So she might, all should liue as well as she,

(For death did neuer doubt vntill t'was now)

And yet by death if she might gained be,

The world should dye and none should liue but she,

But as a Christall with a tender breath

Receiues dim thicknesse, and doth seeme obscure

So darkt with palenesse of a breath'd on death

(If it were death that did this darke procure,)

She seem's aliue and yet ah she was gone

And then life greeu'd, and death did fetch a grone.

[Page]

Yet would they part the remnant of her being

Her body went to death: her fame to life

Thus life, and death, in vnitie agreeing

Dated the tenor of their sonderie strife,

Death vow'd her body should be eyed neuer,

Yet life hath vow'd her fame should liue for euer.

FINIS.

[Page]

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

BEAWTIE dishonoured vvritten VNDER THE TITLE OF SHORES WIFE.

Chascun se plaist ou il se trouue mieux.

[figure]

LONDON Imprinted by Iohn Wolfe. 1593.

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFVLL SIR EDVVARD Winckfield Knight.

[Page]

[Page]

SYR since such is the industrious nature of our owne Poetes, as though Italie sleepes in the charme of a sweet Hierusaleme, and France waxes proud in the weeke labours of her toyling-mused Bartas (the first as conceiptiuely Allegoricall, as the other is labour some significant) yet our owne clyme, challendging vnto her selfe hardly a second esteeme, to the first: and hauing produced such witty, & so happy conceiptes, as wandering in the secresie of some passionate Elegies, blush at their owne apparance: How might I be esteemed guiltie of myne owne disgrace, that daring to make myselfe priuie to the knowledge thereof, should not sticke, to argue my selfe improuidēt, in not bequeathing to silence the first inuention of my beginning Muse? not first to the last, nor better to the worst, of many, that conceiuyng lower opinion of their owne merite, then the merite might thincke worthely due vnto herselfe, remaine content with that prayse, which in her guist inuieth the pure excellencie of the deseruer: But young conceiptes, as they are young: are withall seeking increase of them selues, and therefore choose what they hold most aunswerable to such desires: And will lesse stand on desiring pardon after offence, then [Page] be carefull at all not to haue offended: Wherein if I note myne owne fault, I craue that pardon, which those will not denie, that respect the nature of confession. And therefore humbly desiring your selfe would be pleased, to hold excuse, to be as great an Argumēt of your own honorable disposition as it might be esteemed a passing stayne to myne infant labours: I wish as many worthy applauses may attend your owne sweet inuentions, as the worthinesse of them selues deserue, and I haue euer desired.

Your worships most bounden. A. C.

Information about this book

Title statement

Beawtie dishonoured vvritten vnder the title of Shores wife Chascun se plaist ou il se trouue mieux.

Chute, Anthony, d. 1595?

Edition statement

1593

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2005-12 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A18771

ID [STC]

STC 5262

ID [STC]

ESTC S116495

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99851711

ID [PROQUEST]

99851711

ID [VID]

17002

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Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A18771)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 17002)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 920:06)

Source

— Beawtie dishonoured vvritten vnder the title of Shores wife Chascun se plaist ou il se trouue mieux., Chute, Anthony, d. 1595?.

Extent

54 p.

Imprinted by [I. Windet for] Iohn Wolfe,. London :: 1593.. (Dedication initialed: A.C.) (In verse.) (Printer's name from STC.) (Reproduction of the original in the British Library.)

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