Containyng sundrie pithie preceptes, learned Counsailes and excellent Inuentions: right pleasant and profitable for al estates.

Deuised and written for the most parte, by M. EDWARDES, sometime of her Maiesties Chappell: the rest by sun­dry learned Gentlemen, both of Honor and Worship, whose names here­after followe.

AT LONDON, Printed by Robert Walde-graue, for Ed­ward White, dwelling neere the little North-doore of Paules Church, at the signe of the Gun. Anno. 1585.

¶To the right honourable Syr Henry Compton Knight, Lord Compton of Compton.

RIght Honourable, and my very good Lord (presuming vpon your courtesie) I am bold to present vnto your honour, this small Volume, entituled, The Paradise of daintie Deuises, beyng penned by diuerse learned Gentlemen▪ and col­lected together through the trauayle of one both of worship and credite, for his priuate vse: who not long since departed this life, whiche when I had perused ouer, not without the ad­uise of sondry of my frendes, I determined by their good motion to set them in Print, who thereunto greatly perswaded me, with these and like wordes. The writers of them, were both of honour and worship, besides that, our owne Countrey-men, and such as for their learnyng and grauitie, might be accoumpted of among the wisest. Furthermore, the ditties both pithie and pleasaunt, as well for the Inuention as Mee­ter, and will yeld a farre greater delight, beyng as they are, so aptly made to be set to any song in fiue partes, or song to Instrument. Which well considering, I purposed not to forsake so good an occasion, beseeching your honour to accept in good part, chiefly for the Aucthours sakes: who though some of them are departed this life, yet their worthy do­ings shall continue for euer, for like as the shadow followeth the body, so prayse followeth vertue, and as the shadow goeth sometymes be­fore, and sometymes behinde, so doth prayse also to vertue: but the later it commeth, the greater it is, and to bee the better esteemed. Thus fearing to offend your Honour with these my rude speaches, I ende, wishyng your Lordshyp many yeares of ioye.

Your good Lordships wholy to commaunde H. Dizle.

The Paradise The translation of the blessed S. Bernardes Verses, conteinyng the vnstable felicitie of this wayfaring world.

Cur mundus militat, sub vana gloria, cuius prosperitas est transitoria?
Tam cito labitur, eius potentia quàm vasa figuli, quae sunt fragilia.
WHy doth eche state applie it selfe to worldly prayse?
And vndertake such toyle, to heape vp honours gaine.
Whose seate though seeming sure, on fickle Fortune stayes,
Whose giftes were neuer proued, perpetuall to remaine,
But euen as yearthen pot, with euery fillip failes,
So Fortunes fauour flits, and Fame with Honour quailes.
Plus crede litteris, scriptis in glacie quàm mundi fragilis, vanae fallaciae,
Faellax in praemiis, virtutis specie, quae nunquam habuit, tempus fiduciae.
Thinke rather firme to finde, a figure grauen in Ise,
Whose substaunce subiect is, to heate of shining Sunne,
Then hope for stedfast stay, in wanton worldes deuise,
Whose feigned fonde delightes, from falsheades forge doe come,
And vnder vertues veile are largely dealt about,
Deceiuing those, who thinke their date will out.
Magis credendum est viris fallacibus, quàm mundi miseris prosperitatibus,
Falsis insaniis & voluptatibus, falsisque studiis & vanitatibus.
The trifely truthlesse tongue of rumours liyng lippes,
Deserues more trust then doth the highest happie hap,
That world to worldlinges giues, for see how honour slippes,
To foolish fonde conceiptes, to pleasures poisoned sap,
To studies false in proofe, to artes applied to game,
To fickle fancies toyes, which wisedome deemeth vaine.
Dic vbi Salomon▪ olim tam nobilis, vel vbi Sampson est, dux inuincibilis,
Veldulcis Ionathas, multum amabilis, vel pulcher Absolon, vultu mirabilis.
Where is the sacred kyng, that Salomon the wise?
whose wisedome former time of duetie did commende,
where is that Sampson strong, that monstrous man in size?
whose forced arme did cause the mightie pillers bend,
[Page]Where is the Pearelesse Prince, the frendly Ionathas:
Or Absolon whose shape and fauour did surpasse.
Quò Caesar abiit? celsus imperio, vel diues splendidus, totus in prandio,
Dic vbi Tullius, clarius eloquio, vel Aristotelus, summus ingenio.
where is that Caesar now, whose high renowned fame?
Of sondry conquestes wonne, throughout the world did sounde:
Or Diues riche in store, and riche in richely name,
whose chest with gold, and dishe with dainties did abounde,
where is the passing grace of Tullies pleading skill?
Or Aristotles vaine, whose penne had witte and will.
O esca vermium, ô massa pulueris, ô ros, ô vanitas, cur sic extolleris?
Ignoras penitùs vtrum cras vixeris, fac bonum omnibus, quam diupoteris.
O foode of filthy worme, oh lompe of lothsome clay,
O life full like the dew, which morning soone doth wast,
O shadow vaine whose shape, with Sunne doth shrinke away,
why gloriest thou so much, in honour to be plast?
Sith that no certaine houre of life thou doest enioy,
Most fit it were, thy time in goodnesse to employ.
Quem breue festum est, haec mundi gloria, vt vmbra hominum, sic eius gaudia,
Quae semper subtrahit aeterna praemia, & ducunt hominum, ad dura deuia.
How short a banquet, seemes the pompe of high renowne?
How like the sencelesse shape of shiuering shadowes thin?
Are wanton worldly toyes, whose pleasure plucketh downe,
Our hartes from hope, and handes from workes, which heauen should win,
And takes vs from the trode, which guides to endlesse gaine,
And sets vs in the way, that leades to lasting paine.
Haec mundi gloria, quae magnipenditur, sacris in litteris, flos foeni dicitur,
Vt leui folium, quod vento rapitur, sic vita hominum, hac vita tollitur.
The pompe of worldly prayse, which worldlinges hold so deare,
In holy sacred booke, is likened to a flower,
whose date doth not containe, a weeke, a month, or yeare,
But springing now doth fade againe within an hower,
And as the lightest leafe, with winde about is throwne,
So light is life of man, and lightly hence is blowne.

My lucke is losse.

1. Our pleasures are but vanities.

BEhold the blast, which blowes the blossomes from the tree,
The end whereof, consumes and comes to nought we see:
Ere thou therfore, be blowne from life that may not last,
Begin for grace to call, for time mispent and past.
Haue minde on brittle life, whose pleasures are but vayne,
On death likewise bethinke, how thou shalt not remaine:
And feare thy Lord to greeue, which sought thy soule to saue,
To sinne no more be bent, but mercy aske and haue.
For death who doth not spare, the kinges on yearth to kill,
Shall reape also from thee, thy pleasure, life and will:
That life which yet remaines, and in thy brest appeares,
Hath sowne in thee such seedes, you ought to weede with teares.
And life that shall succeede, when death is worne and past,
Shall spring for euer then, in ioy or payne to last:
Where death on life, hath power ye see, that life also,
Hath mowen the fruites of death, which neuer more shall grow.
W. Hunis.

2. Who waighteth on this wauering world, and veweth ech estate, By triall taught shall learne it best. to liue in simple rate.

AMid the vale the slender shrubbe, is hid from all mishap,
when taller tree that standes alofe, is rent with thunder clap:
The turrets tops which touche the cloudes, are beat with euery blast,
Soone shiuered are their stones with storme, and quickly ouercast.
Best bodied tree in all the wood, for timber beame is found,
And to the axe the stūrdiest oke, doth yeld and fall to ground:
The highest hill doth soonest feele, the flash of lightninges flame,
And soone decayes the pompe and pride, of high renowned name.
Of all the Heard the hunteman seekes, by proofe as doth appeare,
with double forked arrow head, to wounde the greatest Deare:
The haughtiest head of all the droue, enioyest the shortest life,
And staines the slaughter house with bloud▪ at pricke of Butchers knife,
Thus what thing highest place attaines, is soonest ouerthrowne,
UUhat euer Fortune sets aloft, she threates to throw it downe.
[Page]And though no force resist thy power, and seeke thee to confounde,
Yet doth the paise of waighty thinges, decline it selfe to grounde.
For restlesse tipe of rowlling wheele, example hath it tride,
To heauie burden yeeld it must, full soone and slippe aside:
UUhat vailes the riche his bed of Doune, the sighes for sleeplesse thought,
what time in couche of flocke, the poore, sleepes sound and feareth nought
At homely boorde his quiet foote, his drinkes in treene be tane,
when oft the proude in cuppes of golde, with wine receiue their bane:
The bed, the boord, they dread in doubt, with traine to be opprest:
when fortune frownes, their power must yeeld, as wire vnto the wrest.
who so thou be that sits alowe, and tread the valleyes pathe,
Thou needes not feare the Thunder boltes of mightie Ioue his wrathe:
If Icarus had not presumed too high, to take his flight,
He had not yet bene drowned in Seas, that now Icarian hight,
If Phaeton had not enterprised, to guide his fathers seate,
His fiers had not inflamed the worlde, nor beene destroyed with heate:
But who so climes aboue the meane, there is no hope of stay,
The higher vp, the sooner downe, and neerer his decay.
Then you that here in pompe are plaste, to guide the golden mace,
Let Crowne and Scepter both obay, the meane of vertues race:
For neither shall renowmed vertue, see the pitte of hell,
Nor yet in tombe of Marble stone, she shall abide to dwell.
And in that tombe full brauely deckte, when that she shall depart,
God sende her rest and all thinges well, according to desarte:
But from Sepulcher flies she hence, beyond the skies aboue,
And glistering in the blisfull starres, she raignes with mighty Ioue.
Iasper Heiwood.

3. The perfect trial of a faithful friend.

NOt staied state, but feeble staie, not costly robes, but bare araie,
Not passed wealth, but present want, not heaped store, but slender skant
Not plenties purse, but poore estate, not happy hap, but froward fate:
Not wish at will, but want of ioy, not hearts good health, but hearts anoye.
Not freedomes vse, but prisoners thrall, not costly seate, but lowest fall:
Not weale I meane but wretched woe, doth truely trie the friend from foe:
And naught but froward fortune proues, who fauning feines, or simply loues.
M. Yloop.

4. Being asked the occasion of his white head, he answereth thus.

WHere sighing sighes, and sorrow sobbes,
Hath slaine the slippes that Nature set,
And scalding showers, with stonie throbbes,
The kindly sappe from them hath fet,
what wonder then though that you see,
Upon my head white heares to be,
UUhere thought hath thrilde and throwne his speares,
To hurt the heart that harmeth him not,
And groning griefe hath ground forth teares,
Myne eyne to stayne, my face to spot,
what wonder then, though that you see,
Upon my head white heares to be.
UUhen pinching paine himselfe hath plaste,
There peace with pleasures were possest,
And where the walles of wealth lye waste,
And pouertie in them is prest,
what wonder then though that you see,
Upon my head white heares to be.
UUhere wretched woe will weane her webbe,
UUhere care the clewe can catche and cast,
And flouds of ioy are fallen to ebbe,
So loe, that life may not long last,
what wonder then though that you see,
Upon my head white heares to be.
These heares of age are messengers,
which bid me fast, repent and praie:
They be of death the Harbingers,
That doth prepare and dresse the way,
wherefore I ioye that you may see,
Upon my head such heares to bee.
[Page]They be the lines that lead the length,
How farre my race is for to runne:
They say my youth is fled with strength,
And how old age is weake begunne:
The which I feele, and you may see,
Upon my head such lines to bee.
They be the stringes of sober sounde,
Whose Musicke is harmonicall:
Their tunes declare a time from grounde,
I came, and how thereto I shall:
Wherefore I ioy that you may see,
Upon my head such stringes to bee.
God graunt to those that white heares haue,
No worse them take then I haue ment:
That after they be layed in graue,
Their soules may ioy their liues well spent,
God graunt likewise that you may see,
Upon your head such heares to bee.

5. Beware of had I wist.

BEware of had I wist, whose fine bringes care and smart,
Esteeme of all as they deserue, and deeme as deemde thou art:
So shall thy perfect frend, enioy his hoped hire,
And faithlesse faunyng foe shall misse, th'effect of his desire:
Good will shall haue his gayne, and hate shall heape despight,
A faithlesse frend shall finde distrust, and loue shall reape delight:
Thy selfe shall rest in peace, thy frend shall ioy thy fate,
Thy foe shall fret at thy good happe, and I shall ioy thy state:
But this my fond aduise, may seeme perchaunce but vayne,
As rather teaching how to lose, then how a frend to gayne:
But this not my intent, to teach to finde a frende,
But safely how to loue and liue, is all that I intende:
And if you proue in part, and finde my counsell true,
Then wish me well for my good will, tis all I craue adue,

My lucke is losse.

6. M. Edwardes May.

WHen May is in his prime, then may eche hart reioyce,
When May bedeckes ech branch with greene, eche bird streines forth his voyce:
The liuely sap creepes vp, into the bloming thorne,
The flowres which cold in prison kept, now laughes the frost to scorne:
All Natures Impes triumphes, whiles ioyfull May doth last,
UUhen May is gone of all the yeare, the pleasaunt time is past.
May makes the chearefull hue, May breedes and bringes new bloud,
May marcheth throughout euery lim, May makes the mery mood:
May pricketh tender hartes, their warbling notes to tune,
Full straunge it is, yet some we see, do make their May in Iune:
Thus thinges are straungely wrought, whiles ioyfull May doth last,
Take May in time, when May is gone, the pleasaunt time is past.
All ye that liue on earth, and haue your May at will,
Reioyce in May, as I doe now, and vse your May with skill:
Use May while that you may, for May hath but his time,
UUhen all the fruite is gone, it is to late the Tree to clime:
Your liking and your lust, is fresh whiles May doth last,
When May is gone, of all the yeare, the pleasaunt time is past.
M. Edwardes.

7. Fayre wordes make fooles fayne.

IN youthfull yeares, when first my young desires began,
To pricke me forth, to serue in court, a slender tall young man:
My fathers blessing then, I asked vpon my knee,
UUho blessing me with trembling hand, these wordes gan say to me:
My sonne, God guide thy way, and shield thee from mischaunce,
And make thy iust desartes in Court, thy poore estate to aduaunce:
Yet when thou art become, one of the Courtly trayne,
Thinke on this Prouerbe old (quoth he) that faire wordes make fooles faine.
This counsell grauely giuen, most straunge appeares to me,
Till tract of time with open eyes, had made me plainly see:
UUhat subtill sleightes are wrought, by painted tales deuise,
UUhen hollow hartes with frendly shewes, the simple do entise,
To thinke all gold that shines, to feede their fond desire,
[Page]Whose shiuering cold is warmde with smoke, in steed of flaming fire:
Sith talke of tickle trust, doth breed a hope most vaine,
This prouerb true by proofe I find, that fayre wordes make fooles faine.
Fayre speech alway doth well, where deedes insue faire wordes,
Faire speech againe alway doth euill, that bushes giue for birdes:
Who hopes to haue fayre wordes, to trie his luckie lot,
If I may counsell, let him strike it while the Iron is hot.
But them that feed on cloddes, in steed of pleasant grapes,
And after warning often giuen, for better lucke still gapes:
Full loath I am, yet must I tell them in wordes plaine,
This prouerb old proues true in them, that faire wordes make fooles faine.
Wo worth the time, that wordes so slowly turne to deedes,
Wo worth the time that fayre sweet flowres, are growne to rotten weedes:
But thrise wo worth the time, that truth away is fled,
UUherein I see how simple hartes, with wordes are vainely fed.
Trust not fayre wordes therefore, where no deedes do insue,
Trust wordes as skilfull Falkners do, trust Haukes that neuer flue:
Trust deedes, let wordes be wordes, which neuer wrought me gaine,
Let my experience make you wise, and let wordes make fooles faine.
M. Edwardes.

8. In his extreame sickenesse.

WHat grieues my bones, and makes my body faint?
UUhat prickes my flesh, and teares my head in twaine?
UUhy do I wake, when rest should me attaint?
UUhen others laugh, why do I liue in paine?
I tosse, I turne, I chaunge from side to side,
And stretch me oft, in sorrowes linckes betide.
I tosse, as one betost in waues of care,
I turne, to flie the woes of loathsome life?
I chaunge, to spie if death this corpes might spare,
I stretch to heauen, to rid me of this strife.
Thus do I stretch, and chaunge, and tosse, and turne,
UUhile I in hope of heauen, my life do burne.
Then hold thee still, let be thy heauinesse,
[Page]Abolish care, forget thy pining woe:
For by this meanes, sone shalt thou find redresse,
When oft betost, hence thou to heauen must goe.
Then tosse and tourne, and tumble franke and free,
O happie thrise, when thou in heauen shalt be.
L. Vaux.

9. Eor Christmas day. Reioyce, reioyce, with hart and voyce, In Christes byrth this day reioyce.

FRom virgins wombe this day did spring,
The precious seed that onely saued man:
This day let man reioyce and sweetly sing,
Since on this day saluation first began.
This day did Christ mans soule from death remoue,
With glorious sainctes to dwell in heauen aboue.
This day to man, came pledge of perfect peace,
This day to man, came loue and vnity:
This day mans griefe, began for to surcease,
This day did man receiue a remedy,
For ech offence, and euery deadly sin,
With gilty hart, that erst he wandred in.
In Christes flocke, let loue be surely plaste,
From Christes flocke, let concord hate expell:
Of Christes flocke, let loue be so embraste,
As we in Christ, and Christ in vs may dwell.
Christ is the authour of vnity,
From whence proceedeth all felicitie.
O sing vnto, this glittering glorious king,
O praise his name, let euery liuing thing:
Let hart and voyce, like Belles of siluer ring,
The comfort that, this day did bring.
Let Lute, let Shalme▪ with sound of sweet delight.
The ioy of Christes birth this day resight.
F. Kindlemarshe.

10. For Easter day.

AL mortall mēn this day reioyce, in Christ that you redemed hath,
By death with death sing we with voyce, to him that hath appeasde Gods wrath:
Due vnto man for sinfull path, wherein before he went astray,
Giue thankes to him with perfect faith, that for mankinde hath made this glorious day.
This day he rose from tombe againe, wherein his precious corse was layd,
Whom cruelly the Iewes had slaine, with bloudy woundes full ill arayd:
O man be now no more dismaid, if thou hencefoorth from sinne do stay,
Of death thou needest not to be afrayde, Christ conquered death for this his glorious day.
His death preuayled had no whit, as Paule the Apostle well doth write,
Except he had vprised it, from death to life by godlike might:
With most triumphant glittering light,
This daie his glory shined I say, and made vs bright as sunne this glorious day.
O man arise with Christ therefore, since he from sin hath made thee free,
Beware thou fall in sinne no more, but rise as Christ did rise for thee:
So mayest thou him in glory see, when he at day of doome shall say,
Come thou my child and dwell with me, God graunt vs all to see that glori­ous day.
Iasper Heiwood.

11. For Whitsonday.

COme holy Ghost eternall God, and ease the wofull griefe,
That through the heapes of heauy sinne, can no where find reliefe:
Doe thou O God redresse,
The great distresse,
Of sinfull heauinesse.
Come comfort the afflicted thoughtes, of my consumed hart,
O rid the pearcing pinching paines, of my tormenting smart:
O holy Ghost graunt me,
That I by thee,
From sinne may purged be.
Thou art my God, to thee alone I will commend my cause,
Nor glittering gold nor precious stone, shall make me leaue thy lawes:
O teach me then the way,
Whereby I may,
Make thee my onely stay.
My lippes, my tongue, my hart and all, shall spread thy mighty name,
My voyce shall neuer cease to sound, the praises of the same:
Yea euery liuing thing,
Shall sweetly sing,
To thee (O heauenly king.)
F. Kindlemarsh.

12. No pleasure without some payne.

SUUeet were the ioyes, that both might like and last,
Straunge were the state, exempt from all distresse,
Happie the life, that no mishap should tast:
Blessed the chaunce, might neuer chaunge successe,
UUhere such a life to lead, or state to proue,
UUho would not wishe, that such a life were loue.
But O the sowrie sauce of sweet vnsure,
UUhen pleasures flie, and flie with wast of winde:
The trustlesse traines, that hoping harts allure,
UUhen sweet delightes, do but allure the minde.
UUhen care consumes, and wastes the wretched wight,
UUhile fancie feedes, and drawes of her delight.
UUhat life were loue, if loue were free from paine?
But O that paine, with pleasure matcht should meet:
UUhy did the course, of Nature so ordaine,
That sugred sowre, must sauce the bitter sweet?
UUhich sowre from sweet, might any meanes remoue,
UUhat hap, what heauen, what life were like to loue?
W. Hunis.

13. Who myndes to bryng his Shippe to happy shore, Must care to know the lawes of wisedomes lore.

MY frend, if thou wilt credite me in ought,
To whom the truth, by triall well appeares:
Nought worth is wit, till it be dearely bought,
There is no wisedome, but in hoarie heares:
Yet if I may, of wisedome oft define,
As well as others haue of happinesse:
Then to my wordes, my frend thy eare encline,
The thinges that make thee wise, are these I gesse.
Feare God, and know thy selfe in ech degree,
Be frend to all, familiar but to few:
To light of credite, see thou neuer bee,
For triall ought, in trust doth treason shew:
To others faultes, cast not to much thy eye,
Accuse no man of guilt, amende thy owne:
Of medling much, doth mischief ought arise,
And oft debate, by tickle tongue is sowne.
What thing thou wilt haue hid, to none declare,
In word or deede, beware of had I wist:
So spend thy good, that some thou euer spare,
For frendes like Haukes, do soare from emptie fist:
Cut out thy coate, according to thy cloth,
Suspected persons, see thou alwayes flee:
Beleeue not him, that once hath broke his troth,
Nor yet of gift, without desert be free.
Time quickly slippes, beware how thou it spend,
Of wanton youth, repentes a painfull age:
Begin nothing, without an eye to th'end,
Nor bow thine eare, from counsaile of the sage:
If thou to farre, let out thy fancie slip,
And witlesse will, from reasons rule outstart:
Thy folly shall at length be made thy whip,
And sore the stripes of shame shall cause thee smart.
To doe to much for old men is but lost,
Of frendship had to women comes like gayne:
Bestow not thou on children to much cost,
For what thou doest for these, is all in vayne:
The old man or he can requite, he dies,
Unconstant is the womans wauering minde:
Full soone the body thy frendship will despise,
And him for loue, thou shalt vngratefull finde.
The aged man is like the barraine ground,
The woman like the reede that wagges with winde:
There may no trust in tender yeares be found,
And of the three, the boy is most vnkinde:
If thou haue founde a faithfull frend in deede,
Beware thou lose not loue of such a one:
He shall sometime stand thee in better steede,
Then treasure great, of gold or precious stone.
Iasper Heiwood.

14. Of the vnconstant stay of Fortunes giftes.

IF Fortune be thy stay, thy state is very tickle,
She beares a double face, disguised, false and fickle:
This day she seemes to smile, to morow will she frowne,
What now she sets aloft, anone she throweth downe:
Flye Fortunes slye deceipte, let Uertue be thy guide,
If that you doe intende, in happy state to abide.
Upon the setled rocke, thy building surest standes,
Away it quickely weares, that resteth on the sandes:
Dame Uertue is the rocke, that yeldes assured stay,
Dame Fortune is the sande, that scoureth soone away:
Chose that is certaine, let thinges vncertaine passe,
Preferre the precious gold, before the brittle glasse.
Slye Fortune hath her sleightes, she playes vpon the packe,
Looke whom she fauours most, at length she turnes to wracke:
[Page]But Uertue simply deales, she shuns deceptfull traine.
Who is by Uertue raised vp, shall neuer fall againe:
Sticke fast to Uertue then, that giues assured trust,
And fly from Fortunes frekes, that euer proue vniust.
F. K.

15. Promise is debt.

IN my accompt, the promise that is vowed,
Emong the good, is holden such a debt:
As he is thought, no whit to be allowed,
That setteth light, his promise to forget:
And for my part, I will not linke in loue,
UUith fickle folke, whose fancies ought remoue.
My happy gayne, I doe esteeme for such,
As few haue founde, in these our doubtfull dayes:
To finde a frend, I thinke it be as much,
As to win a fort, full fraught of noble prayse:
Of all the goodes, that there may be possest,
A faithfull frend, I iudge to be the best.
O frendly league, although to late begun,
Yet time shall trye, our troth as well imployed:
And that we both, shall see that we haue doen,
Such fastned fayth, as can not be destroyed:
By enuious rage, or slaunders bitter blow,
That alwayes seekes the good to ouerthrow.
R. Hill.

16. No wordes, but deedes.

THe wrong is great, the payne aboue my power,
That yeldes such care, in doubtfull dens to drowne:
Such hap is hard, where Fortune doth so lower,
As frendly looke, is tournd to froward frowne.
[Page]Is this the trust, that faithfull frendes can finde?
With those that yet haue promise broke?
By deedes in doubt, as though no wordes can binde,
A vowed frend, to hold him to his yoke.
O faithlesse frend, what can assure your minde?
That doubtes so soone, before you haue cause why?
To what hard hap, doth Fortune here me binde,
UUhen wordes nor deedes, can no where satisfie:
UUhat can I write? that hath not oft bene sayd,
UUhat haue I sayd? that hath not bene affirmed:
UUhat not approued? that ought to be assayed,
Or what is vowed? that shall not be performed.
Cast of mistrust, in hast no credite giue,
To this or that, that breedeth frendes vnrest:
No doubt at all, but trust me if I liue,
My deedes shall proue, that all is for the best:
And this beleeue, the sea shall cease to flow,
The sunne to shine, within the setled skie:
All thinges on earth, shall leaue to spring and grow,
Yea euery foule, shall want his winges to flie.
Eare I in thought, shall seeme once to retire,
If you my frend, remaine as I desire:
Now lose no time, but vse that while you may,
Forget not this, a Dogge shall haue a day.
R. D.

17. He desireth exchaunge of life.

THe day delayed, of that I most doe wish,
UUherewith I feede, and starue in one degree:
UUith wish and want, still serued in one dish,
A liue as dead, by proofe as you may see:
To whom of old, this Prouerbe well it serues,
UUhile grasse doth grow, the silly horse he sterues:
[Page]Tweene these extremes, thus doe I rome the race,
Of my poore life, this certainely I know:
Tweene would and want, vnwarely that doe passe,
More swift then shot, out of the Archers vow:
As Spider drawes her line all day,
I watch the net, and others haue the pray.
And as by proofe, the greedy Dogge doth gnaw,
The bared bone, all onely for the tast:
So to and fro, this lothsome life I draw,
UUith fancies forst, and fed with vayne repast:
Narsissus brought, vnto the water drinke,
So aye thirst I, the more that I doe drinke.
Loe thus I dye, and yet I seeme not sicke,
UUith smart vnseene my selfe, my selfe I weare:
UUith prone desire, and power that is not quicke,
UUith hope a loft, now drenched in disprayre:
Trayned in trust, for no reward assignde,
The more I hast, the more I come behinde.
UUith hurt to heale, in frozen Ise to frie,
UUith losse to laugh, this is a wonderous case:
Fast fetred here, is forst away to flie,
As hunted Hare, that Hound hath in the chase:
UUith winges and spurres, for all the hast I make,
As like to lose, as for to draw the stake.
The dayes be long, that hang vpon desart,
The life is irke of ioyes that be delayed:
The time is short, for to requite the smart,
That doth proceede, of promise long vnpayed:
That to the last, of this my fainting breath,
I wish exchaunge of life, for happy death.
L. Vanx.

18. Of the instabilitie of youth.

WHen I looke backe, and in my selfe behold,
The wandring wayes, that youth could not descry:
And marke the fearefull course, that youth did hold,
And met in mynde, ech step youth strayed awry:
My knees I bow, and from my hart I call,
O Lord forget, these faultes and folies all.
For now I see, how voyde youth is of skill,
I see also his Prime time and his ende:
I doe confesse my faultes and all my ill,
And sorrow sore, for that I did offende:
And with a minde, repentaunt of all crimes,
Pardon I aske for youth, ten thousand times.
The humble hart, hath daunted the proude minde,
Eke wisedome hath geuen ignoraunce a fall:
And wit hath taught, that follie could not finde,
And age hath youth, her subiect and her thrall:
Therfore I pray, O Lord of life and truth,
Pardon the faultes committed in my youth.
Thou that diddest graunt the wise king his request,
Thou that in the Whale, thy Prophet diddest preserue:
Thou that forgauest the wounding of thy brest,
Thou that didst saue, the theefe in state to sterue:
Thou onely God, the giuer of all grace,
Wipe out of minde, the path of youthes vayne race.
Thou that by power, to life didst rayse the dead,
Thou that restorest the blind to perfect sight:
Thou that for loue, thy life and loue out blead,
Thou that of fauour, madest the lame goe right:
Thou that canst heale, and helpe in all assayes,
Forgiue the gilt, that grew in youthes vayne wayes.
And now since I▪ with faith and doubtlesse minde,
Doe flie to thee, by prayer to appease thy Ire:
And since that thee, I onely seeke to finde,
And hope by faith, to attaine my iust desire:
Lord minde no more, youthes errour and vnskill,
And able age, to doe thy holy will.
L. Vaux.

19. Most happy is that state alone, Where wordes and deedes agree in one.

BY painted wordes, the silly simple man,
To trustlesse trap, is trayned now and than:
And by conceipt, of sweete alluring tale,
He bites the baytes, that breedes his bitter bale:
To beauties blaze, cast not thy rouing eye,
In pleasaunt greene, doe stinging Serpentes lye:
The golden Pill, hath but a bitter tast,
In glittering glasse, a poyson ranckest plast,
So pleasaunt wordes, without performing deedes,
May well be deemed, to spring of Darnell seedes:
The frendly deede is it, that quickely tries,
Where trusty faith, and frendly meaning lies:
That state therfore, most happy seemes to bee,
Where wordes and deedes, most faithfully agree.
My frend if thou wilt keepe thy honest name,
Flie from the blot, of barking flaunders blame:
Let not in word, thy promise be more large,
Then thou in deede, art willing to discharge:
Abhorred is that false dissembling broode,
That seemes to beare, two faces in one hoode:
To say a thing, and not to meane the same,
Will turne at length, to losse of thy good name:
Wherfore my frend, let double dealing goe,
In stead wherof, let perfect plainnesse flow:
[Page]Doe thou no more, in idle wordes exceede,
Then thou intendes, to doe in very deede:
So good report, shall spread thy worthy prayse,
For being iust, in word and deede alwayes.
You worldly wightes, that worldly doers are,
Before you let, your word slip out to farre:
Consider well, what inconuenience springes,
By breache of promise made, in lawfull thinges:
First, God mislikes where such deceipt doth swarme,
Next, it redoundeth vnto thy neighbours harme:
And last of all, which is not least of all,
For such offence, thy conscience suffer shall:
As barren groundes, bringes forth but rotten weedes,
From barren wordes, so fruitlesse chaffe proceedes:
As sauerie flowers, doe spring in fertill ground,
So trusty frendes, by triall soone are found:
To shunne therfore, the worst that may ensue,
Let deedes alway, approue thy sayinges true.
F. K.

Who will aspire to dignitie: 20. By learnyng must aduaunced be.

THe poore that liue in needy rate, by learnyng do great richesse gayne,
The rich that liue in wealthy state, by learning doe their wealth main­tayne:
Thus rich and poore, are furthered still,
By sacred rules of learned skill.
All fond conceiptes of franticke youth, the golden gift of learning stayes,
Of doubtfull things to search the truth, learning sets forth the ready wayes▪
O happy him do I repute,
UUhose breast is fraught with learning fruite.
There growes no corne within the field, that Oxe and plough did neuer till,
Right so the mynde no fruite can yeld, that is not lead by learninges skill:
Of ignoraunce comes rotten weedes,
Of learning springes right noble deedes.
[Page]Like as the Captaine hath respect, to trayne his souldiours in aray,
So learning doth mans mynde direct, by vertues staffe his life to stay:
Though frendes and Fortune waxeth scant,
Yet learned men shall neuer want.
You impes therfore in youth be sure, to fraught your myndes with learned thinges,
For learning is the fountaine pure, out from the which all glory springes:
Who so therfore will glory win,
With learning first must needes begin.
F. Kindlemarsh.

21. Mans flittyng life findes surest stay: Where sacred vertue beareth sway.

THe sturdy rocke for all his strength, by raging seas is rent in twaine,
The marble stone is pearst at length, with little drops of drilling raine:
The Oxe doth yeld vnto the yoke,
The Steele obeyeth the hammer stroke.
The stately stagge that seemes so stout, by yalping houndes at bay is set,
The swiftest bird that flees about, is caught at length in foulers Net:
The greatest fish in deepest brooke,
Is soone deceiued with subtill hooke.
Yea man himselfe, vnto whose will, all thinges are bounden to obay,
For all his wit and worthy skill, doth fade at length and fall away:
There is nothing, but time doth wast,
The Heauens, the Earth, consume at last.
But vertue sits triumphing still, vpon the trone of glorious fame,
Though spitfull death mans body kill, yet hurtes he not his vertuous name:
By life or death, what so betides,
The state of vertue, neuer slides.
M. T.

22. Nothing is comparable vnto a faithfull frend.

SIth this our time, of frendship is so scant,
Sith frendship now, in euery place doth want:
Sith euery man, of frendship is so hollow,
As no man rightly knowes, which way to follow:
Cease not my Muse, sease not in these our dayes,
To ring loude peales, of sacred frendships prayse.
If men be now, their owne peculiar frendes,
And to their neighbours frendship none pretendes:
If men of frendship, shew them selues so bare,
And of their brethren, take no frendly care:
Forbeare not then my Muse, nor feare not then,
To ring disprayse, of these vnfrendly men.
Did man in frendship know the mightie power?
How great effectes, it worketh euery hower:
What store of hidden frendship it retaynes,
How still it powreth forth aboundant gaynes:
Man would with thee, my Muse in these our dayes,
Ring out loude peales, of sacred frendships prayse.
Frendship releeueth mans necessitie,
Frendship comforteth mans aduersitie:
Frendship augmenteth mans prosperitie,
Frendship preferres man to felicitie:
Then ring my Muse, ring out in these our dayes,
Ring out loude peales, of sacred frendships prayse.
Of frendship, groweth loue and charitie,
By frendship, men are linked in amitie:
From frendship springeth all commoditie,
The fruite of frendship is fidelitie:
Oh ring my Muse, ring out in these our dayes,
Peale vpon peale, of sacred frendships prayse.
That man with man, true frendship may embrace.
[Page]That man to man, may shew a freendly face:
That euery man, may sow such freendly seedes,
As freendship may be found in freendly deedes.
And ioyne with thee my muse in these our dayes,
To ring loud peales of sacred freendships prayse.
F. Kindlemarsh.

Golden precepts.

PErhaps you think me bolde that dare presume to teache,
As one yt runns beyond his race, & rowes beyond his reach,
Sometime the blinde doe go, where perfect sights doe fall,
The simple may sometimes instruct, the wisest heads of al.
If needefull notes I giue, that vnto vertue tend,
Me thinkes you should of right, vouchsafe your listning eares to lend:
A Whetstone cannot cut, yet sharpes it well we see,
And I though blunt, may whet your skils, if you attentife bee.
First these among the rest, I wish you warely heede,
That God be seru'd, your prince obayed, & freends releeu'd at neede:
Then looke to honest thrift, both what and how to haue,
At night examine so the day, that bed be thought a graue.
Seeke not for others goods, be iust in worde and deede,
For got with shiftes, are spent with shame, beleeue this as thy creede
Boste not of Natures giftes, nor yet of parents name,
For Uertue is the onely meane, to winne a worthy fame.
Ere thou doest promise make, consider well the ende,
But promise past be sure thou keepe, both with thy foe and freende:
Threat not reuenge to much, it shewes a crauens kinde,
But to preuaile, and then forgiue, declares a noble minde.
Forget no freendships debt, wish to requite at least,
For God and man, yea all the world, condems the vngratefull beast:
[Page]Beare not a frendly face, with hart of Iudas kisse,
It shewes, a base and vile conceipt, and not where valure is.
Flye from a faunyng flurt, and from a coggyng mate,
Their loues breedes losse, their prayse reproch, their frēdship breeds but hate,
Seeke not to loose by wiles, that law and duetie bindes,
They be but helpes of Banckrupts heads, and not of honest myndes.
The motions of the flesh, and Collers heate restraine,
For heapes of harmes do dayly hap, where lust or rage doth raigne:
In diet, deede and wordes, a modest meane is best,
Inough sufficeth for a feast, but riot findes no rest.
And so to make an end, let this be borne away:
That vertue alwayes be thy guide, so shalt thou neuer stray.

¶In prayse of the Snayle.

THe deepe turmoyled wight, that liues deuoyde of ease,
Whose wayward wittes are often found, more wauering then the seas:
Seekes sweete repose abroad, and takes delight to rome,
Where reason leaues the Snayle for rule, to keepe a quiet home.
Leape not before thou looke, lest harme thy hope assayle,
Hast hauocke makes in hurtfull wise, wherfore be slow as Sayle:
Refrayne from rash attempt, let take heede be thy skill,
Let wisedome bridle brainsicke wit, and leasure worke thy will.
Dame reason biddes I say, in thynges of doubt be slacke,
Lest rashnesse purchase vs the wrong, that wisedome wills vs lacke:
By rashnesse diuers haue bene deadly ouercome,
By kindly creepyng on like Snayle, duke Fabe his fame hath wonne.
Though some as swift as haukes, can stoope to euery stale,
Yet I refuse such sodayne flight, and will seeme slow as Snayle:
[Page]Wherefore my prety Snaile, be still and lappe thee warme.
Saue enuies frets mauger their fumes, ther [...] few shall do thee harme.
Because in some respect, thou holdes me to be wise,
I place thee for a Presedent, and signe before mine eyes:
Was neuer any yet, that harme in thee could find,
Or dare auow that euer Snaile, wrought hurt to humaine kinde.
I know dame Phisicke doth, thy friendly helpe implore,
And crau's the salue from thee ensues, to cure the crased sore:
Sith Phisicke then alowes, the vertues in degree,
In spight of spight I weare thee still, that well contenteth me.

21. Remember thy end.

TO be as wise as Cato was, or rich as Cresus in his life:
To haue the strength of Hercules, which did subdue by force or strife.
What helpeth it when death doth call,
The happy end exceedeth all.
The rich may well the poore relieue, that rulers may redresse ech wrong:
The learned may good counsell giue, but marke the end of this my song.
Who doth these thinges, happy they call,
Their happy end, exceedeth all.
The happiest end, in these our dayes, that all do seeke, both small and great:
Is either for fame, or els for praise, or who may sit in highest seat.
But of these thinges hap, what hap shall,
The happy end exceedeth all.
A good beginning oft we see, but seldome standing at one stay:
For few do like the meane degree, then prayse at parting some men say.
The thinges whereto ech wight is thrall,
The happy end exceedeth all.
The meane estate, that happy life, which liueth vnder gouernance:
Who seekes no hate, nor breedes no strife, but takes in worth his happy chance.
[Page]If contentation him befall,
His happie ende exceedeth all.
The longer life that we desire, the more offence doth dayly grow:
The greater paine it doth require, except the iudge some mercy shew.
Wherefore I thinke and euer shall,
The happie end exceedeth all.
D. S.

24. He perswadeth his friend from the fond affectes of loue.

VUhy art thou bound and mayest go free, shall reason yeld to raging will?
Is thraldome like to libertie? wilt thou exchaunge thy good for ill?
Then shalt thou learne a childish play, and of each part to tast and proue:
The lookers on shall iudge and say, lo this is he that liues by Loue.
Thy wits with thoughts, shal stand at stay, thy head shal haue but heauy rest,
Thy eyes shal watch for wanton praies, thy tong shal shew thy harts request:
Thy eares shall heare a thousand noise, thy hand shall put thy pen to paine,
And in the end, thou shalt dispraise, thy life so spent, for such small gaine.
If loue and list might euer cope, or youth might run in reasons race,
Or if strong sute might win sure hope, I would lesse blame a louers case:
For loue is hot, with great desire, and sweet delight makes youth so fond,
That little sparks will proue great fire, and bring free harts to endles bonds
First count the care, and then the coste, & marke what fraud in faith is found,
Then after come, and make thy boast, & shew some cause why thou art bound:
For when the wine doth run full low, you shall be faine to drinck the lies,
And eat the flesh full well I know, that hath been blown with many flies.
We see where great deuotion is, the people kneele and kisse the crosse,
And though we find small fault of this, yet some will gilt a bridles bosse▪
A foole his bable will not chaunge, not for the scepter of a King,
A louers life is nothing straunge, for youth delights none other thing.
Tho. Churchyard.

25. Wanting his desire, he complayneth.

THe sailyng ships with ioy at length, do touch their long desired port,
The hewing axe the oke doth wast, and battryng Canon breaks the fort:
Hard hagred haukes stope to the lure, wild colts in time the bridle tames,
There is nothing so out of vre, but to his kinde long tyme it frames.
Yet this I finde in tyme, no tyme can winne my sute,
Though oft the tree I climbe, I cannot catche the fruite.
And yet the pleasaunt braunches oft, in yeldyng wise to me they bow,
UUhen I would touch they spring, sone are they gone I wote not how:
Thus I present that fleetyng floud, the Tantalus in hell below,
UUould God my case she vnderstoode, which can full soone relieue my woe.
UUhich if to her were knowen, the fruite were surely myne,
She would not let me grone, and brouse vpon the rine.
But if my ship with tackle torne, with rented sayles must needes retire,
And streame and winde haue playnly sworne, by force to hinder my desire:
Like one that strikes vpon the rockes, my weary wracke I should be waile,
And learne to know false fortunes mockes, who smiles on me to small auaile.
Yet sith she onely can, my rented Ship restore,
To helpe her wracked man, but once I seeke no more.
M. Edwardes.

28. Trie before you trust.

IN frendes are found a heape of doubtes, that double dealyng vse,
A swarme of such I could finde out, whose craft I can accuse:
A face for loue, a harte for hate, these faigned frendes can beare,
A tongue for troth, a head for wiles, to hurt ech simple care.
In humble poort, is poyson part, that plainnesse can not spye,
UUhich credites all, and can not see, where stingyng Serpentes lye:
Through hasty trust, the harmelesse harte, is easely hampred in,
And made beleeue it is good gold, when it is Lead and Tin.
The first deceipt that bleres myne eyes, is faigned fayth profest,
The second trappe is gratyng talke, that gripes eche straungers brest:
The third deceipt is greetyng wordes, with colours painted out,
UUhich bids suspect to feare no smart, nor dread no daungerous doubt.
[Page]The fourth, and last is long repayre, which creepes in friendships lap.
And dayly hauntes, that vnder trust, deuiseth many a trap:
Loe how false friendes can frame a fetch, to win their will with wiles,
To sauce their sleights with sugred sops, and shadow harme with smiles,
To serue their lustes, are sundry sortes, by practise diuers kindes,
Some caries hony in their mouthes, and venoume in their mindes:
Me thinkes the stones within the streetes, should cry out in this case,
And euery one that doth them meet, should shunne their doubble face.
D. S.

27. A Lady forsaken complayneth.

IF pleasures be in paynfulnes? In pleasures doth my body rest,
IF ioyes accord with carefulnes? A ioyfull hart is in my brest:
If prison strong be liberty? In liberty long haue I been,
If ioyes accord with miserie? who can compare a life to mine.
Who can vnbind that is sore hound? who can make free that is full thrall,
Or how can any meanes be found, to comfort such a wretch withall:
None can, but he that hath my hart, conuert my paynes to comfort then,
Yet since his seruant I became, most like a bondman haue I been.
Since first in bondage I became, my wordes and deedes were euer such,
That neuer once he could me blame, except from louing him too much.
Which I can iudge no iust offence, nor cause that I deserue disdaine,
Except he meane through false pretence, throgh forged loue to make a traine
Naie, naie, alas, my faigned thoughts, my friended and my faigned ruth,
My pleasures past my present plaints, shew wel I meane but to much truth.
But since I cannot him attaine, against my will I let him go,
And least he glory at my paine, I will attempt to cloke my woe:
Youth, learne by me, but do not proue, for I haue prooued to my paine,
What grieuous greefes do grow by loue, and what it is to loue in vaine.
M. D.

28. Finding worldly ioyes but vanities, he wisheth death.

FOrlorne in filthy froward fate, wherein a thousand cares I finde:
By whom I do lament my state, annoyde with fond afflicted minde.
A wretch in woe, and dare not crye,
I liue, and yet I wishe to die.
[Page]The day in dole, that seemeth long, to passe with sighes and heauy cheare:
And with these eyes I vewe the wrong, that I sustayne by liuyng here.
UUhere my mishaps as rise do dwell,
As plagues within the pit of hell.
A wailyng wight I walke alone, in desart dennes there to complayne:
Among the sauage sort to moue, I flee my frendes where they remayne.
And pleasure take to shunne the sight,
UUhere erst I felt my great delight.
A captiue clapt in chaynes of care, lapt in the lawes of lethall loue:
My flesh & bones consumed bare, with crauling griefes full straunge to proue.
Though hap doth bid me hope at least,
UUhiles grasse doth grow, yet starues the beast.
A sieged fort with forraine force, for want of ayde, must yeld at last,
So must my wearied pined corse, submit it selfe to bitter tast:
Of craulyng care that crackes my brest,
Till hope of death, shall breake my rest.
F. M.

¶ A reply to M. Edwardes Maie.

I Read a Maiyng rime of late, delighted much my eare,
It may delight as many moe, as it shall read or heare:
To see how there is shewed, how May is much of price,
And eke to May when that you may, euen so is his aduice.
It seemes he ment to May himselfe, and so to vse his skill,
For that the tyme did serue so well, in May to haue his will:
His onely May was ease of mynde, so farre as I can gesse,
And that his May his mynde did please, a man can iudge no lesse.
And as himselfe did reape the fruites, of that his pleasaunt May,
He wills his freend the same to vse, in tyme when as he may:
He is not for himselfe it semes, but wisheth well to all,
For that he would they should take May, in tyme when it doth fall.
So vse your May, you may, it can not hurtfull be,
And May well vsed in tyme and place, may make you merie glee:
Modest Maiyng meetest is, of this you may be sure,
A modest Maiyng quietnesse, to Mayers doth procure.
Who may and will not take, may wish he had so doen,
Who may and it doth take, may thinke he tooke to soone:
So ioyne your May with wisedomes lore, and then you may be sure,
Who makes his May in other sort, his vurest may procure.
Some May before May come, some May when May is past,
Some make their May too late, and some do make post hast:
Let wisdome rule I say your May, and thus I make an ende,
And May, that when you list to May, a good May God you sende.
M. S.

30. Hauyng maried a worthy Ladie, and taken away by death, he complayneth his mishap.

IN youth when I at large did lead, my life in lusty liberty,
When heauy thoghts no one did spread, to let my pleasant fantasy:
No fortune seemd, so hard could fall,
This freedome then, that might take thrall.
And twenty yeres I scarse had spent, whē to make ful my happy fate
Both treasures great were on me cast, with lands and titles of estate:
So as more blest then I, stoode than,
Eke as me thought was neuer man.
For of Dame Fortune who is he, could more desire by iust request,
Then health, with welth, and liberty, al which at once I this possest:
But masking in this iolly ioye,
A sodain sight, prooud all a toy.
For passing on these merry days, with new deuise of pleasures great,
And now & thē to vew the raies, of beauties works wt cunning feate:
In heauenly hewes, all which as one,
I oft beheld, but bound to none.
And one day rowlyng thus my eyes, vpō these blessed wights at ease,
Emongst ye rest one did I se, who straight my wādring loke did sease:
And stayed them firme, but such a sight,
Of beautie yet sawe neuer wight.
What shall I seke to praise it more, where tongs cānot wel praise ye same,
But to be short to louers lore, I straight my sēces al did frame
And were it wit, or were it chaunce,
I wonne the Garlande in this daunce.
[Page]And thus where I before had thought, no hap my fortune might encrease,
A double blisse this chaunce forth brought, so did my Ladies loue me please:
Her faith so firme, and constant such,
As neuer hart, can prayse too much.
But now with tormentes straunge I tast, the fickle stay of fortunes wheele,
And where she raysed from high to cast, with greater force of grief to feele:
For from this hap of sodaine frowne,
Of Princes face she threw me downe.
And thus exchaunge now hath it made, by libertie a thing most deare,
In hatefull prison for to fade, where sundred from my louing feare:
My wealth and health, standes at like stay,
Obscurely to consume away.
And last whē humaine force was none, could part our loue wherein we liued,
My Ladies life alas is gone, most cruell death hath it bereued:
Whose vertues, her, to God hath wonne,
And left me here, a man vndoen.

31. A worthy dittie, song before the Queenes Maiestie at Bristow.

MIstrust not troth, that truely meanes, for euery ielous freke,
In stead of wrong, condemne not right, no hidden wrath to wreke:
Looke on the life of faultlesse life, how bright her vertues shine,
And measure out her steppes ech one, by leuell and by line.
Deme eche desart by vpright gesse, whereby your prayse shall liue,
If malice would be matcht with might, let hate no iudgement giue:
Enforce no feare with wresting wittes, in quiet conscience brest,
Lend not your eares to busie tounges, which breedeth much vnrest.
In doubtfull driftes wade not to farre, it wearies but the minde,
Seeke not to search the secret hartes, whose thoughtes are hard to finde:
Auoyde from you those hatefull heades, that helpes to heape mishap,
Be slow to heare the flatterers voyce, that creepeth in your lap.
Embrace their loue that willes you good, and sport not at their prayse,
Trust not too much vnto your selfe, for feeble are your stayes:
How can your seate be setled fast, or stand on stedfast ground.
[Page]So propped vp with hollow hartes, whose suretie is vnsound,
Giue faith to those that feare for loue, and not that loue for feare,
Regard not them that force compels to please you euery where:
All this well wayed and borne away, shall stablish long your state,
Continually with perfect peace, in spite of puffing hate.
D. S.

32. An Epitaph vpon the death of Sir Edward Saunders Knight, Lord chief Baron of the Exchequer.

YOu Muses weare your mourning weedes, strike on the fatall drome,
Sound Triton out the trumpe of fame, in spite of Pareas dome:
Distill Parnassus pleasaunt drops possesse Pierides place,
Apollo helpe with dolefull tune, to wayle this wofull case▪
UUring hard your handes, wayle on your losse, lament the fate that fell,
UUith sobs and sighes to Saunders say, oh Saunders now farewell:
UUhom Phaebus fed with Pallas papp, as one of Sibils seede,
Loe here where death did rest his corps, the vermine foule to feede.
UUhom Impes of Ioue with Necter sweete, long in Libethres noursht,
Behold how dreadfull death him brought, to the whence he came first:
Lycurgus he for learned lawes, Radamantus race that ran,
An other Nector for aduice, Zalucus fame that wan.
A Damon deare vnto his frend, in faith like Phocion found,
A Cato that could counsell giue, to Prince a subiect sound:
Not Athens for their Solon sage, not Rome for Numa wayle,
As we for Saunders death haue cause, in floudes of teares to sayle.
Nor Sparta card for Chilos death, nor proude Prienna prest,
To weepe for Bias as we wayle, our Saunders late possest:
His learned pathes, his talentes rare, so now by death appeares,
As he that Salomon sought to serue, in prime and youthfull yeares,
His counsell sad, his rules, his Lawes, in country soyle so wrought.
As though in Cuma he had bene, of sage Sibilla taught:
His vertuous life was such I say, as vertue did embrace,
By vertue caught in vertues schoole, to grow in vertues race.
Might tender babes, might orphantes weake, might widowes reare the crie,
The sound thereof should pearce the cloudes, to scale the empire skie:
[Page]To bid the Gods to battaile bende, and to descende in sight,
Though farre vnfit, and mates vnmeete, with mortall men to fight.
Too late (alas) we wish his life, too soone deceiues vs Death,
Too little wit we haue to seeke, the dead agayne to breath:
UUhat helpelesse is, most carelesse be, as Natures course doth show,
For death shall reape what life hath sowen, by nature this we know.
UUhere is that fierce Achilles fled, where is king Turnus shroude?
UUhat is become of Priamus state, where is Periander proude?
Hector, Hanno, Hanniball, dead, Pompei, Pirrhus spild,
Scipio, Cyrus, Caesar slayne, and Alexander kild.
So long there Fortune fast did flow, and charged Fame to sound,
Till frowning Fortune foild by fate, which fawning Fortune found:
Shun Fortunes feakes, shake Fortune of, to none is Fortune sound,
Sith none may say of Fortune so, I Fortune faithfull found.
Behold where Fortune flowed so fast, and fauoured Saunders lure,
Till fickle Fortune false agayne, did Saunders death procure:
Loe clothed cold in cloddes of clay, in drossie dust remaine,
By fate return'd from whence he came, to his mothers wombe agayne,
UUho welnigh thirtie yeares was Iudge, before a Iudge did fall,
And iudged by that mighty Iudge, which Iudge shall iudge vs all:
The heauens may of right reioyce, and earth may it bewayle,
Sith heauen wan, and earth hath lost, the guide and arke of vayle.
The gayne is much, our losse is great, their mirth, our mone is such,
That they may laugh as cause doe yeld, and we may weepe as much.
O happy he, vnhappy we, his hap doth aye encrease,
Happy he, and haplesse we, his hap shall neuer cease.
We liue to dye, he died to liue, we want and he possest,
UUe bide in bandes, he bathes in blisse, the Gods aboue him blest:
Beyng borne to liue, he liued to dye, and dyed to God so playne,
That birth, that life, that death doe shew, that he shall liue agayne.
His youth to age, his age to death, his death to fame applied,
His same to time, his time to God, thus Saunders liued and dyed:
O happy life, O happier death, O ten times happy he,
Whose hap it was, such hap to haue, a Iudge this age to be.
Oh ioyfull time, Oh blessed soyle, where Pallas rules with wit,
O noble state, O sacred seate, where Saba sage doth sit▪
Like Susan sound like Sara sad, with Hesters Mace in hand,
With Iudithes sword Bellona like, to rule this noble land.
[Page]I had my will, you haue your wish, I laugh, reioyce you may,
I wanne now much, you gayne no lesse, to see this happy day.
Wherein I dyed, wherein you liue, oh treble happy cost,
Wherein I ioyed in glory great, wherein you triumph most.
Kneele on your knees, knocke hard your brests, sound forth the ioyfull drome,
Clap loude your handes, sound Eccho say, the golden world is come.
Reioyce you Iudges may of right, your mirth may now be such,
As neuer earst you Iudges had, in England mirth so much.
Here Cuma is, here Sibill reignes, on Delphos seate to sit,
Here she like Phaebus rules, that can Gordius knot vnknit.
I liued to Nature long inough, I liued to honour much,
I liued at wish, and died at will, to see my countrey such.
As neither needes it Numas lawes, nor yet Apollos sweard,
For mauger Mars yet Mars shalbe of this our Queene afeard.
O pearelesse pearle, O Diamond deare, O Queene of Queenes farewell,
Your royall Maiestie God preserue, in England long to dwell.
Farewell the Phaenix of the world, farewell my soueraigne Queene,
Farewell most noble vertuous Prince, Mineruas mate I weene.
No Iewell, Gemme, no Gold to giue, no Pearles from Pactol [...]s loe,
No Persian Gaze, no Indian stone, no Tagus sandes to show.
But faith and will to natiue soyle, a liue and dead I finde,
My hart my minde, my loue I leaue vnto my Prince behinde,
Farewell you Nobles of this land, farewell you Iudges graue,
Farewell my felowes, frendes and mates, your Queene I say God saue.
What rise in time, in time doth fall, what floweth in time doth ebbe,
What liues in time, in time shall dye, and yeld to Parcus webbe.
The Sunne to darcknesse shalbe turn'd, the starres from skyes shall fall,
The Moone to bloud, the world with fire shalbe consumed all.
As smoke or vapour vanish straight, as bubbles rise and fall,
As cloudes doe passe, or shadow shiftes, we liue, we dye so all.
Our pompe, our pride, our triumph most, our glory great herein,
Like shattering shadow passe away, as though none such had bin.
Earth, Water, Ayre, and Fire, as they were earst before,
A lumpe confused, and Chaos call'd, so shall they once be more.
And all to earth, that came from earth, and to the graue descende,
For earth on earth, to earth shall goe, and earth shalbe the end.
As Christ ascended vp the cloudes, so Christ in cloudes shall come,
To Iudge both good and bad on earth, at dreadfull day of dome.
[Page]From whence our flesh shall rise agayne, euen from the drossie dust,
And so shall passe I hope, vnto the Mansion of the iust.
Lodowicke LLoyd.

33. His good name beyng blemished, he bewayleth.

FRam'd in the front of forlorne hope, past all recouerie,
I stailes stand tabide, the shocke of shame and infamie:
My life through lingring long is lodg'd, in lare of lothsome wayes,
My death delayed to keepe from life, the harme of haplesse dayes:
My sprites, my hart, my witte and force, in deepe distresse are dround,
The onely losse of my good name, is of these griefes the ground.
And since my mynde, my wit, my head, my voyce, and toung are weake,
To vtter, moue, deuise, conceiue, sound forth, declare, and speake:
Such pearsing plaintes, as aunswere might, or would my wofull case,
Helpe craue I must, and craue I will, with teares vpon my face:
Of all that may in heauen or hell, in earth or ayre be found,
To waile with me the losse of myne, as of these griefes the ground.
Helpe Gods, helpe saints, helpe sprites & powers, that in the heauen do dwel,
Helpe ye that are aye wont to waile, ye howling houndes of hell:
Helpe man, helpe beastes, helpe birdes & wormes, that on the earth doth toyle,
Helpe fish, helpe foule, that flockes and feedes vpon the salt sea soyle:
Helpe Eccho that in the ayre doth flee, shrill voyces to resound,
To waile this losse of my good name, as of these griefes the ground.
E. O.

34. Of Fortunes power.

POlicrates whose passing hap, caus'd him to lose his fate,
A golden ring cast in the seas, to chaunge his constant state:
And in a fish yet at his bourd, the same he after found,
Thus fortune loe, to whom she takes, for bountie doth abound.
The mizers vnto might she mountes, a common case we see,
And mightie to great miserie, she sets in low-degree:
[Page]UUhom she, to day doth reare on hye, vpon her whirling wheele,
To morow next she dingeth downe, and casteth at her heele.
No measure hath she in her giftes, she doth reward ech sort,
The wise that counsell haue, no more, then fooles that maketh sport:
She vseth neuer parciall handes, for to offend or please,
Giue me good Fortune all men sayes, and throw me in the seas.
It is no fault or worthinesse, that makes men fall or rise,
I rather be borne fortunate, then to be very wise:
The blindest man right soone, that by good fortune guided is,
To whom that pleasaunt Fortune pipes, can neuer daunce amis.
M. Edwardes.

36. Though triumph after bloudy warres, the greatest brags doe beare, Yet triumph of a conquered mynde, the crowne of fame shall weare:

WHo so doth marke the carelesse life, of these vnhappy dayes,
And sees what small and slender hold, the state of vertues stayes:
He findes that this accursed trade, proceedeth of this ill,
That men be giuen too much to yeld, to their vntamed will.
In lacke of taming witlesse will, the poore we often see,
Enuies the riche, because that he, his equall can not bee:
The riche aduaunced to might by wealth, from wrong doth not refrayne,
But will oppresseth weaker sort, to heape excessiue gayne.
If Fortune were so blind, to giue to one man what he will,
A world would not suffice the same, if he might haue his fill:
We wish, we searche, we striue for all, and haue no more therein,
Then hath the slaue, when death doth come, though Cresus wealth he win.
In getting much, we get but care, such brittle wealth to keepe,
The rich within his walles of stone, doth neuer soundly sleepe:
When poore in weake and slender house, doe feare no losse of wealth,
And haue no further care but this, to keepe them selues in health.
Affection may not hide the sword of sway, in iudgement seate,
[Page]Least partiall fauour execute, the law in causes great:
But if the mynde in constant state, affection quite doe leaue,
The higher state shall haue their rightes, the poore no wrong receiue.
It is accompted greater prayse, to Caesars lofty state,
Agaynst his vanquest foes, in warres to bridle wreckfull hate:
Then when to Rome he had subdued, the people long vnknowne,
Whereby as farre as land was found, the same abroad was blowne.
If honour can selfe will refuse, and Iustice be vpright,
And priuate state desires but that, which good appeares in sight:
Then vertue shall with soueraigne shew, to euery eye reueale,
An heauenly life, a wealfull state, a happy common weale.
Let vertue then the triumph win, and gouerne all your deedes,
Your yelding to her sober hestes, immortall glory breedes:
She shall vpreare your worthy name, shinyng into the skies,
Her beames shall blaze in graue obscure, where shriued carkasse lyes.
M. Edwardes.

37. Of perfect wisedome.

WHose will be accompted wise, and truely clayme the same,
By ioyning vertue to his deedes, he must atcheue the same:
But few there be, that seeke thereby, true wisedome to attayne,
O God so rule our hartes therfore, such fondnesse to refrayne.
The wisedome which we most esteeme, in this thing doth consist,
UUith glorious talke to shew in wordes, our wisedome when we list:
Yet not in talke, but seemely deedes, our wisedome we should place,
To speake so fayre, and doe but ill, doth wisedome quite disgrace.
To bargayne well, and shunne the losse, a wisedome compted is,
And thereby through the greedy coyne, no hope of grace to mis:
To seeke by honour to aduaunce, his name to brittle prayse,
Is wisedome which we dayly see, increaseth in our dayes.
But heauenly wisedome sower seemes, too hard for them to win.
[Page]And wearie of the sute they seeme, when they doe once begin:
It teacheth vs to frame our life, while vitall breath we haue,
UUhen it dissolueth earthly masse, the soule from death to saue.
By feare of God to rule our steppes, from sliding into vice,
A wisedome is, which we neglect, although of greater price:
A point of wisedome also this, we commonly esteeme,
That euery man should be in deede, that he desires to seeme.
To bridle that desire of gayne, which forceth vs to ill,
Our hautie stomackes Lord represse, to tame presuming will:
This is the wisedome that we should, aboue eche thing desire,
O heauenly God from sacred throne, that grace in vs inspire.
And print in our repugnant hartes, the rules of wisedome true,
That all our deedes in worldly life, may like thereof insue:
Thou onely art the liuing spring, from whom this wisedome flowes,
O wash therewith our sinfull hartes, from vice that therein growes.
M. Edwardes.

38. A frendly admonition.

YE stately wightes, that liue in quiet rest,
Through worldly wealth, which God hath giuen to you:
Lament with teares and sighes from dolefull brest,
The shame and power, that vice obtaineth now:
Behold how God doth dayly profer grace,
Yet we disdayne repentaunce to embrace.
The suddes of sinne doe soke into the minde,
And cancred vice, doth vertue quite expell:
No chaunge to good, alas can resting finde,
Our wicked hartes, so stoutly doe rebell:
Not one there is, that hasteth to amend,
Though God from heauen his dayly threates downe send:
UUe are so slow to chaunge our blamefull life,
[Page]UUe are so prest, to snatche a luring vice:
Such greedy hartes, on euery side be rife,
So few that guide, their will by counsell wise:
To let our teares lament the wretched case,
And call to God for vndeserued grace.
You worldly wightes, that haue your fancies fixt,
On slipper ioy, of terraine pleasure here:
Let some remorse, in all your deedes be mixt,
Whiles you haue time, let some redresse appeare:
Of sodaine death, the houre you shall not know,
And looke for death, although it seemeth slow.
Oh he no Iudge, in other mens offence,
But purge thy selfe, and seeke to make thee free:
Let euery one, apply his diligence,
A chaunge to good, within him selfe to see:
O God direct our feete in such a stay,
From cancred vice, to shun the hatefull way.
R. Hill.

39. Sundrie men, sundry affectes.

IN euery wight, some sundry sort of pleasure I doe finde,
UUhich after he doth seeke, to ease his ioyling minde▪
Diana with her trainyng chase, of hunting had delight,
Against the fearefull Deare, she could direct her shot a right.
The loftie yeares in euery age, doth still imbrace the same,
The sport is good, if vertue doe assist the chearefull game.
Minerua in her chattering armes, her courage doth aduaunce,
In triall of the bloudy warres, she giueth luckie chaunce:
For sauegard men imbrace the same, which doe so needefull seeme,
That noble hartes their chief delightes, in vse therof esteeme.
In warlike games to try or ride, the force of armes they vse,
And base the man we doe attempt, that doth the same refuse.
The siluer sound of Musickes cordes, doth please Apollos wit,
[Page]A sentence which the heauens aduaunce, where it deserues to sit:
A pleasure apt for euery wight, relief to carefull mynde,
For woe redresse, for care a salue, for sadnesse helpe we finde.
The soueraigne prayse of Musicke still, doth cause the Poetes fayne,
That whirling Spheres, and eke the heauens doe hermonie retayne.
I heard, that these three powers, at variaunce lately fell,
UUhiles ech did prayse his owne delight, the other to excell:
Then fame, as an indifferent Iudge, to end the case they call,
The prayse pronounced by her to them, indifferently doth fall.
Diana health and strength maintaine, Minerua force doth tame,
And Musicke giues a sweete delight, to further others game.
These three delightes to hautie myndes, the worthiest are esteemed,
If vertue be annexed to them, they rightly be so demed:
UUith ioy they doe reuiue the wit, with sorrow oft opprest,
And neuer suffer solemne grief, too long in minde to rest.
Be wise in mirth, and seeke delight, the same doe not abuse,
In honest mirth a happy ioy, we ought not to refuse.
R. Hill.

40. Of a frend and a flatterer.

A Trustie frend is rare to finde, a fawning foe may soone be got,
A faithfull frend beare still in mynde, but fawning so regard thou not.
A faithfull frend no cloke doth craue, to coler knauery withall,
But Sicophant a gun must haue, to beare a port what ere be fall.
A nose to smell out euery feast, a brasen face to set it out,
A shamelesse child or homely gest, whose life doth like to raunge about:
A fawning foe while wealth doth last, a theefe to rob and spoyle his frend,
As strōg as oke while wealth doth last, but rotten sticke doth proue in ye end.
Looke first, then leape, beware the mire,
Burnt child is warnd to dread the fire▪
Take heede my frend, remember this,
Short horse (they say) soone curried is.
M. Edwardes,

41. Of sufferaunce commeth ease.

TO seeme for to reuenge ech wrong in hastie wise,
By proofe of guiltlesse men, it hath not bene the guise:
In slaunders lothsome brute, where they condemned be,
With ragelesse moode they suffer wrong, where truth shall trie them free.
These are the pacient pangues, that passe within the brest,
Of those, that feele their cause by myne, where wrong hath right opprest:
I know how by suspect, I haue bene iudg'd awrie,
And graunted giltie in the thing, that clearely I denie.
My faith may me defend, if I might loued bee,
God iudge me so, as from the guilt, I know me to be free:
I wrote but for my selfe, the grief was all myne owne,
As, who would proue extremitie, by proofe it might be knowne.
Yet are they such, that say they can, my meaning deeme,
Without respect of this old troth, thinges proue not as they seeme.
Whereby it may befall, in iudgement to be quicke,
To make them selues suspect therewith, that needed not to kicke.
Yet in resisting wrong, I would not haue it thought,
I doe amisse, as though I knew, by whom it might be wrought:
If any such there be, that herewithall be vext,
It were their vertue to beware, and deeme me better next.
L. Vaux.

43. All thinges are vayne.

ALthough the purple morning, brags in brightnesse of the Sunne,
As though he had of chased night, a glorious conquest wonne:
The time by day, giues place agayne, to force of drousie night,
And euery creature is constrayned, to chaunge his lustie plight.
Of pleasures all, that here we cast,
We feele the contrarie at last.
In Spring, thou pleasaunt Zephirus, hath fruitfull earth inspired,
And neuer hath ech bush, ech braunche, with blossomes braue attired:
Yet fruites and flowers, as buds and blomes full quickly withered be,
When stormie winter comes to kill, the sommers iolitie.
By time are got, by time are lost,
All thinges wherein we pleasure most.
[Page]Although the Seas so calmely glide, as daungers none appeare,
And doubt of stormes, in skye is none, king Phaebus shines so cleare:
Yet when the boisterous windes breake out, and raging waues do swell,
The selie barke now heaues to heauen, now sinckes agayne to hell.
Thus chaunge in euery thing we see,
And nothing constaunt seemes to bee.
Who floweth most in worldly wealth, of wealth is most vnsure,
And he that chiefly tastes of ioy, doe sometime woe endure:
Who vanteth most of numbred frendes, forgoe them all he must,
The fayrest flesh and liuely bloud, is tourn'd at length to dust.
Experience giues a certaine ground,
That certaine here, is nothing found.
Then trust to that which aye remaines, the blisse of heauens aboue,
UUhich Time, nor Fate, nor Winde, nor Storme, is able to remoue.
Trust to that sure celestiall rocke, that restes in glorious throne,
That hath bene, is, and must be still, our anker hold alone.
The world is but vanitie,
In heauen seeke we our suretie.
F. Kindlemarshe.

44. A vertuous Gentlewoman in the prayse of her loue.

I Am a virgin fayre and free, and freely doe reioyce,
I sweetly warble sugred notes, from siluer voyce:
For which delightfull ioyes, yet thanke I curteous Loue,
By whose almightie power, such sweete delightes I proue.
I walke in pleasaunt fieldes, adorn'd with liuely greene,
And vewe the fragrant flowers, most louely to be seene:
The purple Columbine, the Couslippe and the Lillie,
The Uiolet sweete, the Daizie and Daffadillie.
The woodbines on the hedge, the red Rose and the white,
And eche fine flowers els, that rendreth sweete delight:
Emong the which I chose, all those of seemeliest grace,
In thought, resembling them, to my deare louers face.
His louely face I meane, whose golden flouring giftes,
[Page]His euerliuing fame, to loftie skye vpliftes:
UUhom louing me I loue, onely for vertues sake,
UUhen vertuosly to loue, all onely care I take.
Of all which fresh fayre flowers, that flower that doth appeare,
In my conceipt, most like to him I hold so deare:
I gather it, I kisse it, and eke deuise with it,
Such kinde of louely speach, as is for louers fit.
And then of all my flowers, I make a garland fine,
UUith which my golden wier heares, together I doe twine:
And set it on my head, so taking that delight,
That I would take, had I my louer still in sight.
For as in goodly flowers, myne eyes great pleasure finde,
So are my louers giftes, most pleasaunt to my mynde:
Upon which vertuous giftes, I make more repast,
Then they that for loue sportes, the sweetest ioyes doe tast.
F. K.

45. Oppressed with sorrow, he wisheth Death.

IF Fortune may enforce, the carefull hart to cry,
And gripyng grief constraine, the wounded wight lament:
UUho then alas to mourne, hath greater cause then I,
Against whose hard mishap, both heauen and earth is bent.
For whom no helpe remaines, for whom no hope is left,
From whom all happy hap is fled, and pleasure quite bereft:
UUhose life naught can prolong, whose health, naught can procure,
UUhose passed proofe of pleasaunt ioy,
Mischaunce hath chaunged to griefes anoy.
And loe whose hope of better day,
Is ouerwhelm'd with long delay.
Oh hard mishap.
Eche thing I plainly see, whose vertues may auayle,
To ease the pinching payne, which gripes the groning wight:
By Phisickes sacred skill, whose rule doth seldome fayle.
Through labours long inspect, is plainly brought to light.
[Page]I know, there is no fruite, no leafe, no roote, no rinde,
No hearbe, no plant, no iuice, no gum, no mettall deepely minde:
No Pearle, no precious stone, ne Gem of rare effect,
Whose vertues, learned Gallens bookes, at large doe not detect.
Yet all their force can not appease,
The furious fittes of my disease:
For any drugge of Phisickes arte,
Can ease the grief that gripes my harte.
Oh straunge disease.
I heare the wise affirme, that Nature hath in store,
A thousand secret salues, which wisedome hath out found:
To coole, the scorching heate, of euery smarting sore,
And healeth deepest scarre, though greeuous be the wound.
The auncient Prouerbe sayes, that none so fostred grief,
Doth grow, for which the Gods themselues, haue not ordained relief:
But I by proofe doe know, such Prouerbes to be vayne,
And thinke that Nature neuer knew, the plague that I sustaine.
And so not knowing my distresse,
Hath left my grief remedilesse.
For why, the heauens for me prepare,
To liue in thought, and dye in care.
Oh lasting payne.
In chaunge of ayre I see, by haunt of heathfull soyle,
By diet duely kept, grosse humours are expeld:
I know that griefes of minde, and inward hartes turmoyle,
By faithfull frendes aduise, in time may be repeld.
Yet all this naught auayles, to kill that me annoyes,
I meane to stop these floudes of care, that ouerflow my ioyes:
No none exchaunge of place, can chaunge my lucklesse lot,
Like one I liue, and so must dye, whom Fortune hath forgot.
No counsell can preuayle with me,
Nor sage aduise with grief agree:
For he that feeles the panges of hell,
Can neuer hope in heauen to dwell.
Oh deepe dispayre.
What liues on earth but I, whose trauayle reapes no gayne,
The wearied Horse and Oxe, in stall and stable rest:
The Ante with sommers toyle, beares out the winters payne,
[Page]The foule that flies all day, at night returnes to rest.
The Ploughmans wearie worke, amid the winters mire,
Rewarded is with sommers gayne, which yeldes him double hire:
The sillie labouring soule, which drudges from day to day,
At night his wages truely payed, contented goeth his way.
And commyng home, his drousie hed,
He coucheth close in homely bed:
Wherein no sooner downe he lyes,
But sleepe hath straight possest his eyes.
Oh happy man.
The Souldiour biding long, the brunt of mortall warres,
UUhere life is neuer free, from dint of deadly foyle:
At last comes ioyfull home, though mangled all with scarres,
Where frankly, voyde of feare, he spendes the gotten spoyle.
The Pirate lying long, amid the foming floudes,
With euery flaw in hazaed is, to lose both life and goodes:
At length findes vewe of land, where wished Port he spies,
UUhich once obtayned, emong his mates, he partes the gotten prise.
Thus euery man, from trauaile past,
Death reape a iust reward at last:
But I alone, whose troubled minde,
In seeking rest, vnrest doth finde.
Oh lucklesse lot.
Oh cursed caitife wretch, whose heauy hard mishap,
Doth wish ten thousand times, that thou hadst not bene borne:
Since fate hath thee condemned, to liue in sorrowes lap,
UUhere wailynges wast thy life, of all redresse forlorne.
UUhat shall thy grief appease? who shall thy torment stay?
UUilt thou thy selfe, with murthering handes, enforce thy owne decay:
No, farre be thou from me, my selfe to stop my breath,
The Gods forbid, whom I beseech, to worke my ioyes by death.
For lingryng length of lothsome life,
Doth stirre in me such mortall strife:
That whiles for life, and death I cry,
In death I liue, and liuing dye.
Oh froward fate.
Loe here my hard mishap, loe here my straunge disease,
Loe here my deepe dispayre, loe here my lasting payne:
Loe here my froward fate, which nothing can appease,
[Page]Loe here how others toyle, rewarded is with gayne.
With lucklesse, loe I liue, in losse of labours due,
Compeld by proofe of torment strong, my endlesse grief to rue:
Is which, since needes I must, consume both youth and age,
If old I liue, and that my care no comfort can asswage.
Henceforth I banish from my brest,
All frustrate hope of future rest:
And truthlesse trust to Tymes reward,
With all respectes of ioyes regard.
Here I forsweare.

47. Where reason makes request, there wisedome ought supplie. With frendly aunswere prest, to graunt or els denie.

I Sigh, why so? for sorrow of her smart,
I mourne, wherfore? for grief that she complaines:
I pitie, what? her oppressed hart,
I dread, what harme? the daunger she sustaines.
I greeue, whereat? at her oppressing paynes,
I feele, what force the fittes of her disease,
UUhose harme doth me and her, a like displease.
I hope, what hay? her happy healthes retire,
I wish, what wealth▪ no wealth, nor worldly store:
But craue, what craft? by cunnyng to aspire
Some skill, whereto? to salue her sickely sore.
UUhat then? why then would I her health restore
UUhose harme me hurtes, how so? so workes my will:
To wish my selfe and her, like good and ill.
UUhat moues thy minde, whereto? to such desire,
Ne force, ne fauour, what then? free fancies choyse:
Art thou to chose? my charter to require,
Eche Ladies loue, is fedde by customes voyce,
Yet are there grauntes, the euidence of their choyse.
UUhat then, our freedome is at large in chosing,
As womens wills are froward in refusing.
Wotes she thy will? she knowes what I protest,
Damde she thy sute? she daungered not my talke:
Gaue she consent? she graunted my request,
What didst thou craue? the roote, the fruite, the stalke,
I asked them all, what gaue she, cheese, or chalke?
That tast must trie, what tast? I meane the proofe,
Of frendes, whose wills withhold their bow aloofe.
Meanst thou good fayth? what els, hopest thou to speede?
why not, O foole vntaught in carpell trade,
Knowest not what proofes from such delayes proceede,
wilt thou like headlesse Cocke be caught in glade?
Art thou like Asse, too apt for burden made?
Fie, fie, wilt thou for faint adore the shrine?
And woe her frend, ere she be wholy thine.
Who drew this drift? moued she, or thou this match?
Twas I: oh foole vnware of womens wiles,
Long mayest thou wayte, like hungry hound at hatch:
She craftie Foxe, the sillie Goose beguiles,
Thy sute is shaped, so fit for long delay,
That she at will may checke, from yea to nay.
But in good sooth, tell me her frendes intent,
Best learne it first, their purpose I not know:
why then thy will to worse and worse is bent,
Doest thou delight, the vnkindled coale to blow:
Or childlike louest, in ankred Boate to row,
what meane these termes? who sith thy sute is such,
Know of or on, or thou affect too much.
No hast but good, why no, the meane is best,
Admit she loue, mislike in lingring growes:
Suppose she is caught, then woodcocke on thy crest,
Till end approues, what scornefull seedes she sowes.
In loytring loue, such daungers ebbes and flowes,
what helpe herein? why wake in daungerous watch:
That to, nor fro, may make thee marre the match.
Is that the way, to end my wearie worke?
By quicke dispatch, to lessen long turmoyle:
Well well, though losse in lingering wontes to lurke,
And I a foole, most fitte to take the foyle.
Yet proofe from promise, neuer shall recoyle,
My wordes with deedes, and deedes with wordes shall wende:
Till she or hers, gainsay that I intende.
Art thou so fonde? not fonde, but firmely fast,
Why foole, her frendes, wote how thy will is bent:
Yet thou like dolt, whose witte and sence is past,
Seest not what frumpes, do follow thy entent.
Ne know, how loue in few of scorne is lent,
Adue, for sighes such follie should preuent:
Well well, their scoffes with scornes might be repayed.
If my requestes, were fully yead or nayed.
UUel well, let these with wisedomes prayse be wayed:
And in your chest of chiefest secretes layed.

My lucke is losse.

48. What ioye to a contented mynde.

THe fayth that fayles, must needes be thought vntrue,
The frend that faignes, who holdeth not vniust:
UUho likes that loue, that chaungeth still for new,
UUho hopes for truth, where troth is voyde of trust.
No faith, no frend, no loue, no troth so sure,
But rather fayles, then stedfastly endure.
UUhat head so stayed? that altereth not intent,
what thought so sure? that stedfast did remaine,
what witte so wise? that neuer needes repent:
what tongue so true? but sometime wontes to fayne,
what foote so firme? that neuer treades awrie,
what sooner dimde? then sight of clearest eye.
UUhat hart so fixt? but soone enclines to chaunge,
[Page]what moode so milde? that neuer moued debate:
what faith so strong? but lightly likes to raunge,
what loue so true? that neuer learnd to hate.
what life so pure? that lastes without offence,
what worldly mynde? but moues with ill pretence.
UUhat knot so fast? that may not be vntide,
what seale so sure? but fraude or force shall breake,
what prop of stay? but one tyme shrinkes aside,
what ship so stauche? that neuer had a leake.
what graunt so large? that no exception makes,
what hoped helpe? but frend at neede forsakes.
UUhat seate so high? but low to ground may fall,
what hap so good? that neuer found mislike:
what state so sure? but subiect is to thrall,
what force preuayles? where Fortune list to strike.
what wealth so much? but time may tourne to want,
what store so great? but wasting maketh scant.
UUhat profites hope? in depth of daungers thrall,
what trust in time? but waxeth worse and worse:
what helpes good hart, if Fortune frowne withall,
what blessing thriues agaynst heauenly helpelesse curse.
what winnes desire, to get and cannot gayne,
what bootes to wish, and neuer to obtaine.

My lucke is losse.

49. Donec eris Faelix multos numerabis amicos, Nullus ad amissas ibit amicus [...]pes.

EUen as the Rauen, the Crow, and greedy Kite,
Doe swarming flocke, where carren corps doth fall:
And tiring teare with beake, and talentes might,
Both skin and flesh, to gorge their guttes withall▪
And neuer cease, but gather moe to moe,
Doe all to pull, the carkas to and fro:
[Page]Till bared bones, at last they leaue behinde,
And seeke elswhere, some fatter foode to finde.
Euen so I see, where wealth doth waxe at will,
And gold doth grow, to heapes of great encrease:
There frendes resort, and profering frendship still,
Full thicke they throng, with neuer ceasing prease.
And slily make, a shew of true intent,
when nought but guile, and inward hate is ment:
For when mischaunce, shall chaunge such wealth to want,
They packe them thence, to place of richer haunt.

My lucke is losse.

50. Amantium irae amoris redinte gratio est.

IN goyng to my naked bed, as one that would haue slept,
I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept:
She sighed sore, and sang full sweete, to bring the babe to rest,
That would not cease, but cried still, in sucking at her brest.
She was full wearie of her watch and greeued with her child,
She rocked it, and rated it, till that on her it smilde:
Then did she say, now haue I found, this Prouerbe true to proue,
The falling out of faithfull frendes, renuyng is of loue
Then tooke I paper, penne and Inke, this Prouerbe for to write,
In register for to remaine, of such a worthy wight:
As she proceeded thus in song, vnto her little brat,
Much matter vttered she of waight, in place where as she sat.
And proued playne, there was no beast, nor creature bearing life,
Could well be knowne to liue in loue, without discorde and strife:
Then kissed she her little babe, and sware by God aboue,
The falling out of faythfull frendes, renuyng is of loue.
She sayd that neither King ne Prince, ne Lord could liue a right,
Untill their puissance they did proue, their manhood and their might:
when manhood shall be matched so, that feare can take no place,
Then wearie workes make warriours, eche other to embrace.
And leaued their force that fayled them, which did consume the rout,
[Page]That might before haue liued their time, and Nature out:
Then did she sing, as one that thought, no man could her reproue,
The falling out of faythfull frendes, renuyng is of loue.
She sayd she saw no fish ne foule, nor beast within her haunt,
That met a straunger in their kinde, but could giue it a taunt:
Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath succeede,
And force the fight to fall to play, in pasture where they feede.
So noble Nature can well end, the worke she hath begone,
And bridle well that will not cease, her tragedie in some:
Thus in song she oft rehearst, as did her well behoue,
The falling out of faithfull frendes, renuyng is of loue.
I maruaile much pardy quoth she, for to behold the rout,
To see man, woman, boy and beast, to tosse the world about:
Some kneele, some couche, some becke, some checke, & some cā smothly smile,
And some embrace others in arme, and there thinke many a wile.
Some stand a loofe at cap, and knee, some humble and some stout,
Yet are they neuer frendes in deede, vntill they once fall out:
Thus ended she her song, and sayd before she did remoue,
The fallyng out of faythfull frendes, renuyng is of loue.
M. Edwardes.

51. Thinke to dye.

THe life is long, which lothsomely doe last,
The dolefull dayes, draw slowly to their date:
The present pangues, and painefull plagues forepast,
Yeldes grief aye greene, to stablish his estate,
So that I feele in this great storme and strife,
That death is sweete, that shortneth such a life.
And by the stroke, of this straunge ouerthrow,
All which conflict, in thraldome I was thrust:
The Lord be praysed, I am well taught to know,
From whence man came, and eke whereto he must.
And by the way, vpon how feeble force,
His terme doth stand, till death doth end his course.
The pleasaunt yeares, that seemes so sweetly runne,
The merrie dayes to ende, so fast that fleete:
The ioyfull wights, of which dayes drawes so soone,
The happie howres, which moe do misse then meete:
Doe all consume, as snow against the Sunne,
And death makes ende of all that life begunne.
Since death shall dure, till all the world be waste,
what meaneth man, to dread Death then so sore?
As man might make, that life should alway laste,
without regarde, the Lord hath led before.
The daunce of Death, which all must runne on row,
The howre wherein, onely himselfe doth know.
If man would minde, what burdens life doth bring.
what grieuous crimes, to God he doth commit:
what plagues, what perill thereby spring,
with no sure howre, in all his daie to sit.
He would sure thinke, as with great cause I doe,
The day of death, is happier of the two.
Death is the doore, whereby we draw to ioye,
Life is the lacke, that drowneth all in paine:
Death is so dole, it seaseth all awaie,
Life is so lend, that all it yeeldes is vaine.
And as by life in bondage man is brought,
Euen so by Death, is freedome likewise wrought.
wherefore with Paule, let all men wishe and praie,
To be dissolued, of this foule fleshly masse:
Or at the least, be arm'd against the daie,
That they be found, good souldiours prest to passe.
From life to death, from death to life againe,
And such a life, as euer shall remaine.
D. S.

51. If thou desire to liue in quiet rest, Giue eare and see, but say the best.

IF thou delight, in quietnesse of life,
Desire to shun, from braules, debate and strife:
To liue in loue with God, with friend and fo,
In rest shalt sleepe, when others can not so.
Giue eare to all, yet do not all beleeue,
And see the ende, and then doe sentence giue:
But say for truth, of happie liues assinde,
The best hath he, that quiet is in minde.
W. Hunis.

52. Beyng forsaken of his frend, he complayneth.

WHy should I linger long to liue,
In this disease of fantasie:
Since Fortune doth not cease to giue,
Thinges to my minde most contrarie.
And at my ioyes doth lowre and frowne,
Till she hath tourned them vpsidowne.
A frend I had to me most deare,
And of long time faithfull and iust:
There was no one, my hart so neare,
Nor one in whom I had more trust.
whom now of late, without cause why,
Fortune hath made my enemy.
The grasse me thinkes should grow in Skie,
The Starres vnto the earth cleaue fast:
The water streame should passe awrie,
The windes should leaue their strength of blast.
The Sunne and Moone by one assent,
Should both forsake the firmament.
The fish in ayre should flie with finne,
The foules in floud, should bring forth fry:
All thinges me thinkes should erst beginne,
To take their course vnnaturally,
Afore my frend should alter so,
without a cause to be my foe.
But such is Fortunes hate I say,
Such is his will on me to wreake:
Such spite he hath at me alway,
And ceasseth not my hart to breake▪
with such despite of crueltie,
wherfore then longer liue should I.
E. S.

45. Prudence. The historie of Damacles, and Dionise.

WHo so is set in Princely throne, and craueth rule to beare,
Is still beset on euery side, with perill and with feare:
High trees by stormy windes are shakt, and rent vp from the ground,
And flashly flackes of lightning flames, on turrets doe rebound.
When little shrubes in safetie lurke, in couert all alow,
And freshly florish in their kinde, what euer winde doe blow,
The cruell kyng of Scisile: who fearing Barbares handes:
was wont to singe his beard himselfe, with coale and fire brandes,
Hath taught vs this, the proofe wherof, full plainely we may see,
Was neuer thing more liuely touched, to shew it so to bee:
This kyng did seeme to Damacles, to be the happiest wight,
Because he thought none like to him, in power or in might.
who did alone so farre excell, the rest in his degree,
As doth the Sunne in brightnesse cleare, the darkest starre we see:
wilt thou (then sayd this cruell kyng) proue this my present state,
Possesse thou shalt this seate of myne and so be fortunate.
Full gladly then this Damacles, this proferd honour tooke,
And shooting at a Princely life, his quiet rest forsooke▪
In honours seate then was he plast, according to his will,
Forthwith a banquet was prepard, that he might feast his fill.
[Page]Nothing did want wherein twas thought, that he could take delite,
To feede his eye, to fill his mouth, or please the appetite:
Such store of plate, I thinke in Greece, there scarsly was so much,
His seruitures did Angels seeme, their passing shape was such.
No daintie dish but there it was, and thereof was such store.
That through out Greece so Princely cheare, was neuer sene before:
Thus while in pompe and pleasures seate, this Damacles was plast,
And did begin with gladsome hart, ech daintie dish to tast.
At length by chaunce cast vp his eyes, and gan the house to vew,
And saw a sight that him enforst, his Princely state to rew:
A sword forsooth with downward poinct, that no stronger thred,
Then one horse heare that peised it, direct vpon his hed.
Wherewith he was so sore amas'd, and shooke in euery part,
As though the sword that hong aboue, had stroke him to the hart:
Then all their pleasures tooke their leaue, and sorrow came in place,
His heauy hart the teares declard, that trickled downe his face.
And then forthwith with sobbing voyce, besought the king of grace,
That he would licence him with speede, to depart out of that place▪
And sayd that he full long enough, had tried now with feare,
What tis to be a happie man, and princely rule to beare.
This deede of thine oh Dionise, deserues immortall fame,
This deede shall alwayes liue with prayse, though thou didst liue with shame
Whereby both kinges be put in mynde, their daungers to be greate,
And subiectes be forbid to climbe, high steppes of honours seate.
M. Edwardes.

55. Fortitude. A young man of Aegipt and Valerian.

EChe one deserues great prayse to haue, but yet not like I thinke,
Both he that can sustaine the yoke of paynes, and doth not shrinke
And he whom Cupids couert craft can nothing moue at all,
Into the hard and tangled knots of Venus snares to fall.
Besturre you then who so delightes, in vertues race to runne,
The flying boye with bow ibent, by strength to ouercome:
As one did once when he was yong, and in his tender dayes,
Whose stoute and noble deede of his, hath got immortall prayse.
The wicked Romaines did pursue, the silly Christians than,
[Page]What time Valerian Emperour was, a wicked cruell man:
who spared not with bloudy draughtes, to quench his owne desire,
Dispatching all that stuck to Christ, with hot consuming fire.
At length a man of tender yeares, was brought before his sight,
Such one as nature seemed to make, a witnesse of her might:
For euery part so well was set, that nothing was depraued.
So that the cruell king himselfe, would gladly him haue saued.
So loth he was to see a worke, so rare of natures power,
So finely built, so sodainly destroyed within an hower:
Then meanes he sought to ouercome, or win him at the lest,
To slip from Christ, whom he before, had earnestly profest:
A bed prepard, so finely dect, such diuers pleasaunt smells,
That well it might appeare a place, where pleasure onely dwells:
By him he layd a naked wench, a Venus darling sure,
With sugred speach and louely toyes, that might his mynde allure.
such wanton louers as these he thought, might easly him entise.
Which thinges he knew with lustie youth, had alwayes bene in prise:
such wayes I thinke the Gods them selues, could haue inuented none.
For flattering Venus ouercomes, the sences euerychone.
And he himselfe was euen at point, to Venus to consent,
Had his stout and manly minde, resisted his entent:
When he perceiued his flesh to yeld, to pleasure not wanton toyes,
And was by slight almost prouoked, to cast of Venus ioyes.
More cruell to himselfe then those, that glad would him vndoo,
With bloudy tooth, his tender tongue, bit quite and cleane in twoo:
Thus was the payne so passing great, of this his bloudy bit,
That all the fire and carnall lust, was quenched euery whit.
Do ill and all thy pleasures then, full soone will passe away,
But yet the shame of those thy deedes, will more decay:
Do well, and though thy paynes be great, yet soone ech one will cease,
But yet, the prayse of those thy deedes, will euermore encrease.
M. Edwardes.

56. Iustice, Zaleuch and his sonne.

LEt rulers make most perfect lawes, to rule both great and small,
If they themselues obey them not, it booteth not at all:
As lawes be nought but rulers dome, containyng equall might,
So rulers should be speaking Ladies, to rule by line of right.
[Page] Zaleuch the Prince of Locrine once, appointed by decree,
Ech lecherer should be punished, with losse of either eye:
His sonne by chaunce offended first, which when his father saw,
Lord God how earnest then was he, to execute the law.
Then ranne the people all by flockes, to him with weeping eyes,
Not one among the rout there was, but pardon, pardon cries:
By whose outcries and earnest sute, his sonne in hope did stand,
That he thereby should then obtaine, some pardon at his hand.
But all in vayne, for he is found, to be the man he was,
And maketh hast so much the more, to haue the law to passe:
The people yet renued their sute, in hope of some relief,
Whose faces all besprent with teares, did testifie their grief.
And cried all for pities sake, yeld now to our request,
If all you will not cleane remit, yet ease the payn at least:
Then somewhat was the father moued, with all the peoples voyce,
And euery man did giue a shoute, to shew they did reioyce.
well then (quoth he) it shall be thus, the law shall be fulfilde,
And yet my sonne shall fauour haue, according as you wilde:
One eye of his shall be pulde out, thus hath his leudnesse got,
And likewise so shall one of myne, though I deserue it not.
This word no sooner was pronounced, but straite the deede was done,
two eyes, no more were left, betwene the father and the sonne:
Say now who can, and on my fayth Appollo he shall be,
UUas he more gentle father loe? or iuster iudge trow ye.
this man would not his lawes belike, the webbes the spiders weue,
UUherein they lurke when they intend, the simple to deceiue:
UUherewith small flies full soone be caught, and tangled ere they wist,
UUhen great ones flie and scape away, and breake them as they list.
M. Edwardes.

57. Temperaunce▪ Spurina and the Romaine Ladies.

IF nature beare thee so great loue, that she in thee haue beautie plast,
Full hard it is as we do proue, to keepe the body cleane and chast:
Twixt comelinesse and chastitie,
A deadly strife is thought to bee.
For beautie which some men suppose, to be as tware a golden ill,
Prouoketh strife and many foes, that seeke on her to worke her will:
Assaultes to townes if many make,
No towne so strong but may be take.
[Page]And this Spurina witnesse can, who did for beautie beare the bell,
So cleane a wight so comely made, no dame in Rome but loued well:
Not one could coole her hot desire,
So burning was the flame of fire.
Like as when baite cast in the floud forthwith doth cause the fishes come,
That pleasauntly before did play, now presently to death to runne:
For when they see the baite to fall,
Straight way they swallow hooke and all.
So when Spurina they did see, to him they flocked out of hand,
So happiest dame was thought to be, that in his fauour most did stand:
Not knowing vnder sweete deceits,
How Venus hides her poysoned baites.
But when he saw them thus to range, whom loue had linked in his chaine,
This meanes he sought for to asswage, these Ladies of their greeuous payne:
His shape entending to disgrace,
UUith many woundes be scorcht his face.
By which his deede it came to passe, that he that seemed an angell bright,
Euen now so cleane disfigured was, that he became a lothsome wight:
And rather had he be foule and chast,
Then fayre, and filthy ioyes to tast.
What pen can write, or tong expresse, that worthy prayses of this deede,
Me thinke that God can do no lesse, then graunt him in heauen for his meede:
UUho for to saue himselfe vpright,
Himselfe hath first destroyed quite.
M. Edwardes.

58. A braunche of hearbes and flowers.

IF that eche flower, the Gods haue framed, or shapt by sacred skill,
UUhere as I would (no wrong to wish) and mine to weare at will
Or els ech tree, with lustie top, would lend me leaue to loue.
UUith sprigs displaied to spred my sute, a wayling hart to proue.
Upon my helme some should you see, my head aduaunced hye.
Some slip for solace there to set, and weare the same would I:
Yet would I not for great delight, the Daises straunge desire,
The Lillie would not like my lust, nor Rose would I require.
The Marigolde might growe for me, Rosemarie well might rest,
The Fenell to, that is more fit: for some vnfriendly gest:
Nor Cowslops would I craue at all, sometime they seeme too coye,
Some ioly youth the Gelliflower, esteemeth for his ioye.
[Page]The Lauender sometimes aloft, allures the lookers eyes,
The Paunsie shall not haue the prayse, where I may giue the prise.
And thus no flower my fansie feedes, or liketh so my lust,
As that I may subiect my selfe, to toyes of tickle trust.
For flowers though they be faire and fresh, of sent excelling sweete,
Yet grow they on the ground below, we tread them with our feete:
And shall I then goe stoupe to such? or els goe seeke to chose,
Shall flowers enforce me once to faune, for feare of friendes or foes.
Yet rather yeeld I to the right, as reason hath assignd,
Mine author sayd there was no salue, in flowers for me to finde:
And yet perhaps some Tree there is, to shrowd me from the shower,
That with her armes may salue the soule, that yeeldeth to her power.
UUhere I may finde some pleasaunt shade, to salue me from the sunne,
Eche thing we see that reason hath, vnto the Trees do runne:
Both men and beastes such foules as flies, the treasures are the Trees,
And for my part when braunches fall, I wish no other fees.
But when that stormes beset me round, such succour God me send,
That I may finde a friendly Tree, that will me well defend:
No Tree there is which yeeldes no good, to some that doth it seeke,
And as they are of diuers kindes, their vses are vnlike.
The Ewe Tree serue the Bowyers tourne, the Ashe the Coupers arte.
The puissant Oke doth make the poste, the Pine some other parte:
The Elme doth helpe to hide the birdes, in wearie UUinters night,
The Briers I gesse are nothing worthe, they serue but for despight.
The willow wisht I farre from hence, good will deserue no wrong,
The Sallow well may serue their states, that sing so sad a song:
The Boxe and Beeche eche for himselfe, aboue the rest doth boste,
The Eglantine for pleasure oft, is pricked vpon the poste.
The Hauthorne is so sad in price, the Baies doe beare the bell,
And that these Baies did bring no blisse, I like it not so well:
As erst I doe that seemely Tree, by which those bayes I found,
And wherewithall vnwittingly, I tooke so great a wound,
As if the tree by which I leane, doth lend me no reliefe,
There is no helpe but downe I fall, so great is growne my griefe:
And therefore at the last I craue, this fauour for to finde,
when euery tree that here is tolde, begins to grow vnkinde.
The B. for beautie whome I boste, and shall aboue the rest,
That B. may take me to her trust, for B. doth please me best:
[Page]It likes me well to walke the way, where B. doth keepe her bower,
And when it raynes to B. I run, to saue me from the shower:
This braunch of B. which here I meane, to keepe and chiefly craue,
At becke vnto this B. I bow, to serue that beautie braue:
What shall I say the time doth passe, the tale to tedious is,
though soth to leaue, yet leaue I must, and say no more but this,
I wish this B. I might embrace, when as the same I see,
A league for life then I require, betwene this B. and me?
And though vnworthy, yet good will, doth worke the way herein,
And B. hath brought the same aboue, which beautie did begin.

59. In commendation of Musicke.

WHere griping grief the hart would wound, & doleful dumpes the minde oppresse,
There Musick with her siluer sound, is wont wt speede to geue redresse
Of troubled mindes for euery sore, sweete Musicke hath a salue in store,
In ioy it makes our mirth abound, in grief it cheeres our heauy sprites,
The carefull head relief hath found, by Musickes pleasaunt sweete delites,
Our senses, what should I say more, are subiect vnto Musickes lore.
The Gods by Musicke hath their pray, the foule therein doth ioy,
For as the Roman Poets say, in seas whom Pirates would destroy:
A Dolphin saude from death most sharpe, Arion playing on his Harpe,
Of heauenly gift, that turnes the minde like as starne doth rule the ship:
Oh Musicke whom the Gods assignde to comfort man, whō cares would nip,
Sith thou both man & beast doest moue, what wisman then wil thee reproue.

60. A Dialogue betweene the Authour and his Eye.

MY Eye why doest thou light on that, which was not thine?
UUhy hast thou with thy sight, thus slaine an heart of mine▪
O thou vnhappie Eye, would God thou hadst bene blinde,
UUhen first thou didst her spye, for whome this griefe I finde.
UUhy sir it is not I, that doe deserue such blame,
Your fancie, not your Eye, is causer of the same:
For I am ready prest, as Page that serues your ease:
To search what thing is best, that might your fansie please.
I sent thee foorth to see, but not so long to bide,
Though fancie went with thee, thou wert my fancies guide:
Thy message being done, thou mightst returne againe,
So Cupid Venus sonne, no whit my heart should paine.
Where fancie beareth sway, there Cupid will be bold,
And reason flies away, from Cupids shaft of gold:
If you finde cause thereby, some deale of painefull smart,
Alas blame not your eye, but blame consent of hart,
My hart must I excuse, and lay the fault on thee,
Because thy sight did chuse, when hart from thought was free:
Thy fight thus brought consent, consent hath bred my griefe,
And griefe bids be content, with sorrow for reliefe.
W. Hunnis.

61. Finding no ioye, he desireth death.

THe Connie in his Caue, the Ferret doth annoye,
And fliyng thence his life to saue, himselfe doth he destroye:
His berrie round about beset, with Hunters snares,
So that when he to scape starts out, is caught therein vnwares,
Like choise poore man haue I, to bide and rest in Loue,
Or els from thence to flie, as bad a death to proue.
I see in Loue no rest, vnkindnesse doth pursue,
To rent his heart out of his brest, which is a Louer true:
And if from Loue I starte, as one that Loue forsakes,
Then pensiue thoughtes my heart doth pearce, and so my life it takes:
Then thus to flie or bide, hard is the choise to chuse,
Since death hath camp'd, and trenched ech side, and saith life now refuse.
Content I am therefore, my life therein to spend,
And death I take a salue for sore, my wearie dayes to ende:
And thus I you require, that faithfull Loue professe,
UUhen carcase cased in his Chest, and body laid on hearse.
Your brinish teares to saue, such as my corse shall moue,
And therewith write vpon my graue, behold the force of Loue.
W. Hunnis.

¶ Hope well and haue well.

IN hope the shipman hoyseth sayle, in hope of passage good,
In hope of health the sick man, deth suffer losse of bloud:
In hope the prisoner linckt in chaines, hopes libertie to finde,
Thus hope breedes health and health breedes ease, to euery troubled minde.
In hope desire gets victorie, in hope great comfort springes,
In hope the Louer liues in ioyes, he feares no dreadfull stinges▪
In hope we liue and may abide, such stormes as are assignde,
Thus hope breedes health, and health breedes ease, to euery troubled mind.
In hope we easily suffer harme, in hope of future time,
In hope of fruite, the paines seemes sweete, that to the tree doth clime:
In hope of Loue, such glory growes, as now by proofe I finde,
That hope breedes health, and health breedes ease, to euery trobled minde.
W. Hunnis.

He requesteth some freendly comfort. affirming his constancie.

THe mountaines hie whose loftie topps, doth meete the hautie skie
The craggy rocke that to the Sea, free passage doth deny:
The aged Oke that doth resist, the force of blustering blast,
The pleasaunt hearbe that euery where, a fragrant smell doth cast.
The Lions force whose courage stout, declares a princelike might,
The Eagle that for worthines, is borne of kinges in fight:
The Serpent eke whose poyfoned iawes, doth belch out venime vile,
The lothsome Tode that shunneth light, and liueth in exile.
These these I say, and thousandes more, by tract of time decay,
And like to time doe quite consume, and vade from time to clay:
But my true heart and seruice vowde, shall last time out of minde,
And still remayne as thine by dome, as Cupid hath assignde.
My faith loe here I vow to thee, my troth thou knowest right well,
My goodes, my freendes, my life is thine, what neede I more to tell?
I am not mine but thine I vowe, thy hestes I will obay,
And serue thee as a seruaunt ought, in pleasing if I may.
And sith I haue no flying winges, to see thee as I wishe,
Ne sinnes to cut the siluer streames, as doth the gliding fish:
Wherefore leaue now forgetfulnesse, and send againe to me,
And straine thy Azured vaynes to write, then I may greeting see.
[Page]And thus fare well more deare to me, then chiefest friend I haue,
UUhose loue in hart I minde to shrine, till death his see doe craue.
M. Edwardes.

¶ He complayneth his mishap.

SHall rigour raigne where ruth hath run, shall fansie now forsake?
Shall fortune lose that fauour wonne, shall not your anger slake?
Shall hatefull heart be had in you, that friendly did pretend,
Shall slipper thought and faith vntrue, that heart of yours defend?
Shall Nature shew your beautie faire, that gentle seemes to be?
shall frowardnesse your fansies heire, be of more force then she?
shall now disdaine the dragge of Death, direct and lead the way?
shall all the Impes vpon the yearth, reioyce at my decay?
Shall this the seruice of my youth, haue such reward at last?
shall I receiue rigour of ruthe, and be from fauour cast?
shall I therefore berent my heares, with wightes that wish to dye;
Or shall I bathe my selfe with teares, to feede your fickle eye.
No, no, I shall in paine lye still, with Turtle Doue most true,
And vow my selfe to wit and will, their counsels to ensue:
Good Ladies all that louers be, and that to be pretende,
Giue place to wit, let reason seeme, your enemies to defende.
Least that you thinke as I haue thought, your selfe to striue in vayne,
And so to be in thraldome brought, with me to suffer paine.
W. Hunnis.

¶ No foe to a flatterer.

I Would it were not as I thinke, I would it were not so,
I am not blinde although I winke, I feele what windes doe blowe:
I know where craft with smiling cheare, creepes into boldned brest
I heare how fayned speeches speakes fayre, where hatred is possest.
I see the serpent lye and lurke, vnder the greene alowe.
I see him watche a time to worke, his poyson to bestowe.
In friendly looke such fraude is founde, as faith for feare is fled,
And friendship hath receiu'de such wound, as he is almost dead:
[Page]And hatefull heart with malice great, so boyles in cankred minde,
That flatterie flearing in the face, had almost made me blinde.
But now I see all is not golde, that glittereth in the eye,
Nor yet such friendes as they professe, as now by proofe I trie.
Though secret spight by craft, haue made a coate of Panters skin,
And thinkes to finde me in the shade, by sleight to wrap me in:
Yet God be praysed my eye is cleare, and can behold the Sunne,
UUhen falshood dare not once appeare, to ende that he begunne.
Thus time shall trie the thing amisse, which God saue shortly sende,
And turne the heart that fayned is, to be a faithfull friende.
W. Hunnis.

His comparison of Loue.

THe spider with great skill, doeth trauell day by day,
His limms no time lye still, to set his house in staie:
And when he hath it wrought, thinking therein to raigne,
A blast of winde vnthought, doth driue it downe againe.
The proofe whereof is true, to make his worke indure,
He paines himselfe a newe, in hope to dwell more sure:
And in some secret place, a corner of a wall,
He frameth himselfe apace, to build and rest withall.
His pleasure sweete to stay, when he to rest is bent,
An vgly shamble Flee, approcheth to his Tent:
And there intendes by force, his labours great to winne,
Or els to yeeld his corse, by fatall death therein.
Thus is the spiders nest, from time to time throwne downe,
And he to labour prest, with endles paine vnknowne:
So such as louers be, like trauell doe attaine,
Those endlesse workes ye see, are alwaies full of paine.
W. Hunnis.

A Louers ioye.

I Haue no ioye, but dreame of ioye, and ioy to thinke on ioye,
A ioye I withstoode, to finish mine annoye:
I hate not without cause alas, yet loue I know not why,
[Page]I thought to hate, I cannot hate, although that I should dye.
A foe most sweete, a friend most sower, I ioy for to embrace;
I hate the wrong, and not the wight, that workt my woefull case:
What thing it is I know not I, but yet a thing there is,
That in my fancie still perswades, there is no other blisse.
The ioyes of life, the pangues of death, it makes me feele eche daie,
But life nor death, this humor can, deuise to weare awaye:
Faine would I dye, but yet in death, no hope I see remaines,
And shall I liue? since life I see, a course of sory paines.
UUhat is it then that I doe seeke, what ioye would I aspire,
A thing that is diuine belike, too high for mans desire.
F. K.

Euill to him that euill thinketh.

THe subtill s [...]ily slightes, that worldly men doe worke,
The freendly shewes, vnder whose shade, most craft doth often lurke▪
Enforceth me alas, with yernfull voyce to say,
UUoe worthe the wilie heads, that seekes the simple mans decay.
The bird that dreades no guile, is soonest caught in snare.
Eche gentle harte deuoyde of craft, is soonest brought to care:
Good Nature soonest trapt, which giues me cause to saie,
woe worthe the wilie heades, that seeke the simple mans decay.
I see the serpent vile, that lurkes vnder the greene,
How subtilly he shrowdes himselfe, that he may not be seene:
And yet his fosters bane, his learing lookes bewray,
woe worthe the wilie heades that seekes, the simple mans decay.
Woe worth the feyning lookes, on fauour that we doe waite,
woe worth the feyned friendly heart, that harbours deepe deceipt:
woe worthe the Uipers broode, oh thrise woe worthe I say,
All worldly wilie heades, that seekes the simple mans decay.
M. Edwardes.

¶ He assureth his constancie.

WIth painted speech I list not proue, my cunning for to trie,
Nor yet will vse to fill my pen, with guilefull flatterie:
[Page]UUith pen in hand, and hart in brest, shall faithfull promise make
To loue you best, and serue you moste, by your great vertues sake.
And sure dame Nature hath you deckt, with giftes aboue the rest,
Let not Disdaine a harbour finde, within your noble brest:
For Loue hath led his Lawe a like, to men of eche degree,
so that the Begger with the Prince, shall Loue as well as he.
I am no Prince, I must confesse, nor yet of Princes line,
Nor yet a brutish Begger borne, that feedes among the swine:
The fruite shall trie the tree at last, the blossomes good or no,
Then doe not iudge of me the worse, till you haue tried me so.
As I deserue, so then reward, I make you iudge of all,
If I be false in worde or deede, let Lightning thunder fall:
And furies Fell with franticke fittes, bereaue and staie my breathe,
For an example to the rest, if I shall breake my faithe.
W. Hunnis.

Complayning of his mishap to his friend, he complaineth wittely.

THe fire shall freeze, the frost shall frie the frozen mountaines hie,
what straunge thinges hath dame natures force, to turne her course awrie:

My loue hath me left, and taken a new man.


This is not straunge, it happes oft times, the truth to scan.

The more is my payne,

her loue then refrayne.

who thought she would flit,
eche one that hath wit:
Is this not straunge▪

light loue will chaunge.

By skilfull meanes I here reclayme, to stoupe vnto my lure,
Such haggard Haukes will soare away, of them who can be sure:

With siluer belles and hoode, my ioy was her to decke.


She was full gorgde, she would the sooner giue the checke.

the more is my payne,
her loue then refrayne,
UUho thought she would flit,
eche one that hath wit:
Is not this straunge,

light loue will chaunge.

Her chirping lips should chirpe to me, sweete wordes of her desire,
such chirping birdes who euer sawe, to preach still on one Brire:
She sayd she loued me best, and would not till she dye,

She sayd in wordes, she thought it not, as tyme doth trye.

The more is my payne,
her Loue then refrayne,
UUho thought she would flit,
ech one that hath wit:
Is not this straunge,

light Loue will chaunge.

Can no man winne a woman so, to make her Loue endure,
To make the Foxe his wiles to leaue, what man will put in vre:
why then there is no choyse, but all women will chaunge,

As men do vse, so some women do Loue to raunge.

The more is my payne,
her Loue then refrayne,
who thought she would flit,
ech one that hath wit:
Is not this straunge,
light Loue will chaunge.
Sith slipper gayne falles to my lot, farewell that gliding pray,
Sith that the Dice doth run awrie, betimes leaue of thy play:
I will no more lament, the thing I may not haue,

Then by exchaunge the losse to come, all shalt thou saue.

Loue will I refraigne,
thereby thou shalt gayne,
with losse I will leaue,
she will thee deceiue,
That is not straunge,

then let her raunge.

M. Edwardes.

No paynes comparable to his attempt.

LIke as the dolefull Doue, delightes alone to bee,
And doth refuse the bloumed branche, chusing the leaflesse tree:
whereon wailyng his chaunce, with bitter teares besprent,
Doth with his bill, his tender breast, oft pearse and all to rent.
UUhose greeuous groninges tho whose gripes of pinyng payne,
whose gastly lookes, whose bloudy streames out flowing from ech vayne:
UUhose falling from the tree, whose panting on the grounde,
Examples be of myne estate, tho there appeare no wounde.
W. Hunnis.

He repenteth his follie.

ALacke when I looke backe, vpon my youth thats past,
And deepely ponder youthes offence, and youthes reward at last:
[Page]With sighes and teares I say, O God I not denie,
My youth with follie hath deserued, with follie for to dye.
But yet if euer sinfull man, might mercy moue to ruth,
Good Lord with mercy do forgiue, the follies of my youth.
In youth I rangde the fieldes, where vices all did grow,
In youth alas I wanted grace, such vice to ouerthrow:
In youth what I thought sweete, most bitter now do finde,
Thus hath the follies of my youth, with follie kept me blind.
Yet as the Eagle castes her bill, whereby her age renueth,
So Lord with mercy do forgiue, the follies of my youth.
W. Hunnis.

No pleasure without some payne.

HOw can the tree, but wast and wither away,
That hath not sometime comfort of the Sunne:
How can that flower but fade, and soone decay,
That alwayes is with darke cloudes runne.
Is this a life, nay death you may it call,
That feeles eche payne, and knoweth no ioy at all.
What foodlesse beast, can liue long in good plight,
Or is it life, where sences there be none:
Or what auayleth eyes, without their light?
Or els a tongue, to him that is alone.
Is this a life? nay death you may it call,
That feeles eche payne, and knowes no ioy at all.
Whereto serue eares, if that there be no sounde,
Or such a head, where no deuise doth grow▪
But all of plaintes, since sorrow is the grounde,
Whereby the hart, doth pine in deadly woe.
Is this a life, nay death you may it call,
That feeles eche payne, and knowes no ioy at all.
L. Vaux.

The fruite of feyned frendes.

IN choyse of frends what hap ha [...] I▪ to chuse one of Sirens kinde,
Whose harpe, whose pipe, whose melodie could feede my eares & make me blind:
UUhose pleasaunt voyce made me forget, that in sure trust is great deceipt,
In trust I see is treason found, and man to man deceiptfull is.
And where as treasure doth abounde, of flatterers there do not misse,
UUhose painted speach, and outward shew, do seeme as frendes and be not so.
UUould I haue thought in thee to be, the nature of the Crocadill,
UUhich if a man a sleepe may see, with bloudy thirst desires to kill:
And thē with teares a while gan weepe, that death of him thus slaine a sleepe
O fauell false, thou traitour borne, what mischief more might thou deuise:
Then thy deare frend to haue in scorne, and him to wound in sundry wise,
UUhich still a frend pretendes to be, and art not so by proofe I see.
Fie, fie, vpon such trecherie. W.H.
If such false shippes do haunt the shore,
Strike downe the sayle and trust no more.
M, Edwardes.

A Dialogue betwene a Gentleman and his Loue.


SHall I no way win you, to graunt my desire?


UUhat woman will graunt you, the thing you require?

You onely to loue me, is all that I craue,

You onely to leaue me, is all I would haue.

My deare alas, now say not so,
To loue you best, I must say no,
Yet will I not flit,
then play on the bit:
I will,
do still,
yet kill not,
I will not,
Make me your man,
beshrew me than.
The swifter I follow, then you flie away,
Swift haukes in their flying, oft times misse their pray,
Yet some killeth deadly, that flie to the marke:
You shall touch no feather, therof take no carke,
Yet hope shall further my desire:
You blow the coales, and rayse no fire,
Yet will I not flit,
then play on the bit:
I will,
do still,
yet kill not,
I will not,
Make me your man,

beshrew me than.


To loue is no daunger, where true loue is ment.

I will loue no raunger, least that I repent:
My loue is no raunger, I make God auow,
To trust your smoth sayinges, I sure know not how:
Most truth I meane, as tyme shal wel trie,
No truth in men, I oft espie:
Yet will I not flit,
than play on the bit,
I will,
doe still,
yet kill not,
I will not,
Make me your man,

beshrew me than.

Some women may say nay, and meane loue most true,
Some women can make fooles, of as wisemen as you:

In time I shall catch you, I know when and where.


I will soone dispatch you, you shall not come there.

Some speedes at length, that oft haue mist,
I am well armde, come when you list:
Yet will I not flit,
then play on the bit,
I will,
do still,
yet kill not,
I will not,
Make me your man,

beshrew me than.

Yet worke your kinde kindly, graunt me loue for loue,
I will vse you frendly, as I shall you proue:
Most true you shall finde me, I this doe protest,

Then sure you shall binde me, to graunt your request.

O happy threede, now haue I sponne,

You sing before the conquest wonne.

Why then, will you swarue,
euen as you deserue:
Loue still,
I will,
yet kill not,
I will not,
Make me your man,

come to me than.

M, Edwardes.

Exclayming vpon his vnkinde Loue, his frend replyeth wittely.


WHat death may be, compared to Loue?


UUhat grief therein, now doest thou proue?

My paynes alas, who can expresse,

I see no cause of heauinesse.

My Ladies lookes, my woe hath wrought,
Then blame thine eyes, that first hath sought▪
I burne alas, and blow the fire,

A foole consumes by his desire.

What shall I do than? come out and thou can:
Alas I die,
what remedie:
My sugred sweete, is mixed with gall,
Thy Ladie can not doe with all:
The more I seeke, the lesse I finde,

Then striue not with the streame and winde.

Her must I loue, although I smart,
UUith her owne sword, thou slayest thy hart:
Such pleasaunt baites, who can refraine,

Such baites will sure breed thee great paine.


UUhat shal I do than?

Come out and thou can,
Alas I die,

what remedie.

Her golden beames, mine eyes do daze,
Upon the Sunne, thou mayest not gaze:
She might reward, my cruell smart,

She thinkes thou hardst a fayned hart.

she laughes to heare my wofull cries,
Forsake her then, in tyme be wise:
No, no, alas, that may not bee,
No wiseman then, will pitie thee:

what shall I doe than?

Come out and thou can,
Alas I die,

what remedie.

A liuing death, loe thus I proue,
Such are the fruites of froward loue:
O that I might her loue once gayne,

Thy gayne would not, halfe quite the paine.

Her will I loue, though she be coye,
A foole himselfe, will still annoye:

who will not die, for such a one?


Be wise at length, let her alone.

I can not doe so,
then be thy owne foe,
Alas I dye,

what remedie.


The complaint of a Louer, wearing Blacke and Taunie.

A Crowne of bayes, shall that man weare,
That triumphes ouer mee:
For blacke and taunie will I weare,
Which mourning colours bee.
The more I follow on, the more she fled away,
As Daphne did full long ago, Apollos wishfull pray:
the more my plaintes I resounde, the lesse she pities me,
The more I sought, the lesse I found, that mine she meant to be.
Melpomene alas, with dolefull tunes helpe than,
And sing Bis, woe worth on me forsaken man:
Then Daphnes bayes shall that mā weare, that triumphes ouer me,
For blacke and taunie will I weare, which mourning colours be.
Droune me you trickling teares, you wailfull wights of woe,
Come helpe these hands to rent my heares, my rufull hap to showe!
Of whom the scorching flames of Loue, doth feede you see,
Ah a lalalantida my deare Dame, hath thus tormented mee.
Wherfore you Muses nine, with dolefull tunes helpe than,
And sing Bis woe worthe on me forsaken man:
Then Daphnes bayes shall that mā weare, that triumphes ouer me,
For blacke and taunie will I weare, which mourning colours be.
An Ankers life to lead, with nayles to scratch my graue,
where earthly wormes on me shall feede, is all the ioyes I craue:
And hide my selfe from shame, sith that mine eyes do see,
Ah a lalalantida my deare Dame, hath thus tormented mee.
And all that present be, with dolefull tunes helpe than,
And sing Bis woe worthe on me, forsaken man.
E. O.

Findyng no relief, he complayneth thus.

IN quest of my relief, I finde distresse,
In recompence of Loue, most deepe disdayne:
My langour such as wordes may not expresse,
A shower of teares, my watrie eye doth rayne.
I dreame of this, and doe define of woe,
I wander in the thoughtes of my sweete foe.
I would no peace, the cause of warre I flie,
I hope, I feare, I burne, I chill in Frost:
I lye a low, yet mountes my mynde on hye,
thus doubtfull stormes, my troubled thoughtes haue tost.
And for my payne, this pleasure do I proue,
I hate my selfe, and pine in others Loue.
The world I graspe, yet hold I nought at all,
At libertie I seeme, in prison pent:
I tast the sweete, more sower then bitter gall,
My ship seemes sounde, and yet her ribbes be rent.
And out alas, on Fortune false I crie,
Looke what I craue, that still she doth denie.
Both life and death, be equall vnto me,
I do desire to dye, yet craue I life:
My wittes with sundry thoughtes do disagree,
My selfe am with my selfe at mortall strife.
As warmeth of Sunne, doth melt the siluer snow,
The heate of Loue, behold consumes me so.
R. Hill.

¶Written vpon the death of his especiall good frend Mai­ster Iohn Barnabe, who departed this life at Ben­sted, in the Countie of Southampton. 25. Ianuary. 1579. Aeratis. 76.

MIne owne good father thou art gone, thine eares are stopt with clay,
Thy ghost is fled, thy body dead, thou hearst not what I say:
[Page]Thy dearest friendes may sigh and sob, thy children crie and call
Thy wife may waile, and not preuaile, nor doe the good at all.
Though reason would we should reioyce, and trickling teares restraine,
Yet kindlinesse and friendlinesse, enforce vs to complayne:
Thy life was good, our losse the more, thy presence cheard our heart,
Thy lacke and absence turnde therefore, our solace into smart.
I founde thee both a kindely friend, and friendly father too,
Barnabie lacks breath, O cruell death, and couldst thou part vs two:
But death derides my woefull wordes, and to my saying saith,
Thus foolish wight I did but right, I force no friend nor faith.
The Lorde of life and Lorde of death, my threatning hand did let,
Els when that he in cradell lay, I might haue claimd my debt:
His corps is clad with cloddes of the yearth, his soule doth soare on hye,
Before the throne of God aboue, whose seruaunt he did die.
And thou his friend, and she his spouse, and they his children shall,
Behold the father, friend and mate, whose absence greeues you all:
But he nor can, nor will returne, to thee, to her, or them,
For heauen is his, he liues in blisse, ye dwell with mortall men.
Ye dwell in darke, and dreadfull denne, in prison pent are ye,
He liues in light, and all delight, from thraldome franke and free:
wishe not that he should come to you, for then ye doe him wrong,
But wishe that ye may goe to him, the blessed sainctes emong▪
H. D.

Coelum non solum.

IF care or skill, could conquere vayne desire,
Or reasons raignes, my strong affection stay:
Then should my sighes, to quiet breast retire,
And shunne such sighes, as secret thoughtes bewray,
Uncomely loue, which now lurkes in my brest,
Should cease my grief, through wisedomes power opprest.
But who can leaue, to looke on Venus face,
Or yeldeth not to Iunos high estate:
What witte so wise, as giues not Pallas place,
These vertues rare, ech Gods did yeld a mate.
Saue her alone, who yet on earth doth raigne,
whose beauties string, no God can well destraine.
What worldly wight, can hope for heauenly hire,
when onely sighes, must make his secret moue:
A silent sute, doth seeld to grace aspire,
My haplesse hap, doth roule the restlesse stone.
Yet Phoebe faire, disdaine the heauens aboue,
To ioy on yearth, her poore Edimions loue.
Rare is reward, where none can iustly craue,
For chaunce is choyse, where reason makes no claime:
Yet lucke sometimes, dispairing soules doth saue,
A happie starre, made Giges ioye attaine.
A slauish Smith, of rude and raskall race,
Found meanes in time, to gaine a Goddesse grace.
Then loftie Loue, thy sacred sailes aduaunce,
My sighing seas, shall flowe with streames of teares:
Amidst disdaine, driue forth my dolefull chaunce,
A valiant minde, no deadly daunger feares.
who loues a loft, and sets his heart on hye,
Deserues no paine, though he do pyne and dye.

A Louer reiected, complaineth.

THe trickling teares, that falles along my cheekes,
The secret sighes that showes my inward griefe:
The present paines perforce, that Loue aye seekes,
Bids me renue my cares without reliefe.
In wofull song, in dole displaie,
My pensiue heart for to bewraie.
Bewraie thy griefe, thy wofull heart with speede,
Resigne thy voyce, to her that causde thy woe:
with irkesome cries, bewaile thy late done deede,
For she thou louest, is sure thy mortall foe.
And helpe for thee, there is none sure,
But still in paine thou must indure.
The stricken Deare, hath helpe to heale his wounde▪
The haggard Hauke, with toyle is made full tame:
The strongest Tower, the Canon laies on grounde,
The wisest witte, that euer had the fame.
was thrall to Loue, by Cupids sleightes,
then way my cause, with equall weightes.
She is my ioye, she is my care and woe,
She is my paine, she is my ease therefore:
She is my death, she is my life also,
She is my salue, she is my wounded sore.
In fine, she hath the hand and knife,
that may both saue and end my life.
And shall I liue on yearth to be her thrall?
And shall I sue and serue her all in vaine?
And kisse the steppes that she lets fall,
And shall I pray the Gods to keepe the paine?
From her, that is so cruell still,
No, no, on her worke all your will.
And let her feele, the power of all your might,
And let her haue her most desire with speede:
And let her pine away, both daie and night,
And let her moue, and none lament her neede.
And let all those that shall her see,
Despise her state, and pitie me.

Not attaining to his desire, he complayneth.

I Am not as I seeme to be, nor when I smile, I am not glad,
A thrall although you count me free, I most in mirth, most pensiue sad:
I smile to shade my bitter spight, as Haniball that saw in sight,
His countrie soile with Carthage towne, by Romane force defaced downe.
And Caesar that preserued was, with noble Pompeis princely hed,
As twere some Iudge to rule the case, a floud of teares he seemd to shed:
[Page]Although in deede it sprong of ioye, yet other thought it was annoye,
Thus contraries be vsed I finde, of wise to cloke the couert minde.
I Haniball that smiles for griefe, and let you Caesars teares suffice,
The one that laughes at his mischiefe, the other all for ioye that cries:
I smile to see me scorned so, you weepe for ioy to see me woe,
And I in heart by Loue slaine dead, presentes a place of Pompeis head.
O cruell hap, and hard estate, that forceth me to loue my foe,
Accursed be so foule a fate, my choise for to prefixe it so:
So long to fight with secret sore, and finde no secret salue therefore,
Some purge their pain by plaint I find, but I in vaine do breath my winde.

¶ A young Gentleman willing to trauell into forreygne partes being intreated to staie in England: Wrote as followeth.

WHo seekes the way to winne renowne,
Or flieth with winges of high desire
Who seekes to weare the Lawrell crowne,
Or hath the minde that would aspire,
Let him his natiue soyle eschewe
Let him goe range and seeke anewe.
Eche hautie heart is well contente,
With euery chaunce that shall betide
No happe can hinder his intent.
He steadfast standes though Fortune slide:
The Sunne saith he doth shine aswell
Abroad as earst where I did dwell.
In chaunge of streames each fish can liue,
Eache fowle content with euery ayre:
The noble minde eache where can thriue,
And not be drownd in deepe dispayre:
Wherefore I iudge all landes alike
To hautie heartes that Fortune seeke.
To tosse the Sea [...] some thinke [...] a toyle,
Some thinke it straunge abroad to rome,
Some thinke it griefe to leaue their soyle
Their parentes, kinsfolkes, and their home.
Thinke so who list, I like it not,
I must abroad to trye my Lott.
UUho lust at home at carte to drudge
And carcke and care for worldly trashe:
with buckled shooe let him goe trudge,
In stead of launce a whip to swash.
A minde thats base himselfe will showe,
A carrion sweete to feede a Crowe,
If Iason of that minde had binne,
Or wandring Prince that came from Greece.
The golden fleece had binne to winne,
And Pryams Troy had byn in blisse,
Though dead in deedes and clad in clay,
Their woorthie Fame will nere decay.
The worthies nyne that weare of mightes,
By trauaile wanne immortall prayse:
If they had liued like Carpet knightes,
(Consuming ydely) all their dayes,
Their prayses had with them bene dead,
where now abroad their Fame is spread.

¶ No ioye comparable to a quiet minde.

IN lothsome race, pursued by slippery life,
whose sugred guile, doth glistering ioy present:
The carefull ghost, oppressed sore with strife,
Yeeldes ghostly grones, from painefull passions sent.
The sinnefull flesh, that beares him here in vewe,
In steede of life, doth dreadfull death pursue.
The way he seeth, by touch of merites grace,
Wherein to runne, alas he gladly would:
But filthie flesh, his wretched dwelling place,
Doeth so rebell, at that which doe he should.
That silly soule, who feeles his heauie neede,
Can onely will, but naught performe in deede.
Thy will through grace, doeth oft desire the good,
But all in vaine, for that the fleshly foe:
Yeeldes forth such fruites, as sinnes hath bred in bud,
And blindly suckes, the sap of deadly woe.
Esteeming shewes of fickle fancies knowne,
And scorning fruit by grace, eternall sowen.
Though eye doth see, that death doth swallow all,
Both life and lust, and euery sound delight:
Yet wretched flesh, through sinne is made so thrall,
That nought it markes, apparant thinges in sight.
That might him traine, to care of better grace,
Bothe doeth his bale, with greedy lust imbrace.
Then since desert, and al thinges weare away,
That nought remaine, but fruite of grace or sinne:
God build in vs, such conscience, as can say,
This fruit not mine, but sinne that dwelt in me,
For why to sinne, I dayly doe in sight,
that vnto Christ, I may reuiue my spright.
ꝙ Candishe.

That Loue is required by disdayne.

IN search of thinges that secret are, my mated muse began,
What it might be, molested most the head and minde of man:
The bending brow of Princes face, to wrathe that doth attende,
Or want of Parentes, wife or childe, or losse of faithfull friend.
the roaring of the Canon shot, that makes the peece to shake,
Or terrour such as mightie Ioue, from heauen aboue can make:
[Page]All these in fine may not compare, experience so doth proue,
Unto the tormentes sharpe and straunge, of such as be in Loue.
Loue lookes a loft, and laughes to scorne, all such as grief anoy,
The more extreame their passions be, the greater is his ioy:
thus loue as victor of the field, triumphes aboue the rest,
And ioyes to see his subiectes lye, with liuing death in brest.
But dire disdaine letts driue a shaft, & gaules this bragging foole,
He pluckes his plumes, vnbēds his bow, & setts him new to schoole
Whereby this boy that bragged late, as conquerour ouer all,
Now yeldes himselfe vnto disdaine his vassall and his thrall.
W. Hunnis.

Of a contented state.

IN wealth we see some wealthy men, abounde in wealth most wealthely,
In wealth we see those men agayne, in wealth do liue most wretchedly:
And yet of wealth hauing more store,
Then earst of wealth they had before.
These wealthy mē do seeme to want, they seeme to wāt that most they haue,
The more posses, the more they craue, the more they craue, the greater store:
That most they haue, they thinke but skant,
Yet not content, woe be therfore.
The simple men that lesse wealth haue, with lesser wealth we see content:
Content are they twixt wealth and scathe, a life to lead indifferent:
And thus of wealth, these men haue more,
Then those of which we spoke before.
W. Hunnis.

Beyng disdayned, he complayneth.

IF frendlesse fayth? if guiltlesse thought may shield?
If simple truth, that neuer meant to swarue?
If deare desire, accepted fruite do yeld,
If greedy lust, in loyall life do searue.
then may my plaint, bewayle my heauie harme,
That seeking calme, haue stumbled on the storme.
My wonted cheare, Eclipsed by the cloud,
Of deepe disdayne, through errour of report,
If wearie woe, enwrapped in the shroude,
Lyes slayne by tongue, of the vnfrendly sort.
Yet heauen and earth, and all that nature wrought,
I call to vowe of my vnspotted thought.
No shade I seeke, in part to shield my tainte,
But simple truth, I hunt no other sute:
On that I gape, the issue of my plainte,
If that I quayle, let iustice me confute.
If that my place, emongest the giltlesse sort,
Repay by doome, my name and good report.
Goe heauy verse, pursue desired grace,
Where pitie shrinde, in cell of secret brest,
Awaites my hast, the rightfull lot to place,
And lothes to see, the guiltlesse man opprest.
Whose vertues great, hath crownde her more with fame,
then kingly state, though largely shine the same.
L. Vaux.

Of the meane estate.

THe higher that the Cedar tree, vnto the heauens do grow,
the more in daungers is the top, when sturdy windes gan blow:
Who iudges then in Princely throne, to be deuoide of hate,
Doth not yet know what heapes of ill, lyes hid in such estate.
Such daūgers great, such gripes of mynde, such toyle do they sustaine,
that often tymes of God they wish, to be vnkingd agayne.
For as the huge and mightie rockes, withstand the raging seas,
So kingdomes in subiection be, whereas dame Fortune please:
Of brittle ioy, of smilyng cheare, of honnie mixt with gall,
Alotted is to euery Prince, in freedome to be thrall.
UUhat watches long, what sleepes vnsure, what grief and care of mynde,
UUhat bitter broyles, what endlesse toyles, to kingdomes be assignde.
The subiect then may well compare, with Prince for pleasaunt daies,
whose silent night bringes quiet rest, whose steppes no storme bewraies:
How much be we then bound to God, who such prouision makes,
to lay our cares vpon the Prince, thus doth he for our sakes,
to him therefore let vs lift vp our heartes, and pray amaine,
that euery prince that he hath plaste, may long in quiet raigne.
W. Hunnis.

Of a contented minde.

WHen all is done and said, in the ende thus shall you finde,
the moste of all doth bathe in blisse, that hath a quiet minde:
And cleere from worldly cares, to deeme can be content,
the sweetest time of all this life, in thinking to be spent.
The bodie subiect is, to fickle Fortunes power,
And to a million of mishaps, is casuall euery hower:
And death in time, doth chaunge it to a clodd of clay,
UUhen as the minde which is deuine, runnes neuer to decay.
Companion none is like, vnto the minde alone,
For many haue beene harmde by speeche, through thinking few or none
Few often times restraineth wordes, but makes no thoughtes to cease,
And stay he speakes best that hath the skill, when for to hold his peace.
Our wealthe leaues vs at death, our kinsmen at the graue,
But vertues of the minde, vnto the heauens with vs haue,
wherefore for vertues sake, I can be well content,
the sweetest time of all my life, to deeme in thinking spent.
L. Vaux.

Trie before you trust.

TO counsell my estate, abandonde to the spoile,
Of forged freendes whose grosest fraude, is set with finest foile:
To verefie true dealing wightes, whose trust no treason treades,
And all too deare th'acquaintance be, of such most harmefull heades.
I am aduised thus, who so doth friend, friend so,
As though to morrowe next he feared, for to become a foe.
To haue a feined frend, no perill like I finde,
Oft flering face may mantell best, a mischief in the minde:
A paire of Angels eares oft times, doth hide a Serpentes hart,
Under whose gripes who so doth come, to late bewailes the smart,
wherfore I do aduise, who so doth frend, frend so,
As though to morrow next, he should become a mortall foe.
Refuse respecting frendes, that courtly know to fayne,
For gold that winnes for gold, shall lose, the selfe same frend agayne:
The quayle needes neuer feare, the foulers netts to fall,
If he would neuer bend his eare, to listen to his call.
Therfore trust not to soone, but when you frend, frend so,
As though to morrow next, ye fearde for to become a fo.
L. Vaux.

He renounceth all the effectes of Loue.

LIke as the Harte, that lifteth vp his eares,
To heare the houndes, that hath him in the chase:
Doth cast the winde, in daungers and in feares,
UUith flying foote, to passe away apace.
So must I flie, of Loue the vayne pursute,
whereof the gayne, is lesser then the fruite.
And I also, must loth those learing lookes,
UUhere Loue doth lurke, still with his subtile sleight:
with painted mockes, and inward hidden hookes,
To trappe by trust, that lyeth not in wayte.
The end whereof, assay it who so shall,
As sugred smart, and inward bitter gall.
And I must flie such Syrian songes,
Wherewith that Circes, Vlisses did enchaunt:
These willie wattes, I meane with filed tongues,
That hartes of steele haue power to daunt:
Who so as Hauke, that stoopeth to their call,
For most deserte, receiueth least of all.
But woe to me, that first beheld these eyes,
[Page]The trappe wherein, I say that I was tane:
An outward salue, which inward me destroyes,
Whereto I runne, as rat vnto her bane.
As to the fish, sometime it doth befall,
that with the baite, doth swallow hooke and all.
UUithin my breast, wherewith I dayly fedde,
The vayne repast, of amorous hote desire:
with loytering lust, so long that hath me fedde,
Till he hath brought me to the flaming fire.
In time as Phenix endes her care and carkes,
I make the fire, and burne my selfe with sparkes.
L. Vaux.

Bethinking himselfe of his end, writeth thus.

WHen I behold the Baier, my last and posting horse,
that bare shall to the graue, my vile and carren corse:
Then say I seelie wretch, why doest thou put thy trust,
In thinges either made of clay, that soone will turne to dust.
Doest thou not see the young, the hardie and the fayre,
that now are past and gone, as though they neuer were:
Doest thou not see thy selfe, draw hourely to thy last,
As shaftes which that is shot, at birdes that flieth fast.
Doest thou not see how death, through smiteth with his launce,
Some by warre, some by plague, and some by worldly chaunce:
UUhat thing is there on earth for pleasure that was made,
But goeth more swift away, then doth the sommer shade.
Loe here the sommer flower, that sprong this other day,
But winter weareth as fast, and bloweth cleane away:
Euen so shalt thou consume from youth to lothsome age,
For death he doth not spare, the Prince more then the Page.
Thy house shalbe of clay, a clotte vnder thy hedde,
Untill the latter day, the graue shalbe thy bedde:
Untill the blowing trompe doth say to all and some,
[Page]Rise vp out of the graue, for now the iudge is come.
L. Vaux.

Beyng in Loue, he complaineth.

ENforst by Loue and feare, to please and not offend,
Within the wordes you would me write, a message I must send:
A wofull errande sure, a wretched man must write,
A wretched tale, a wofull head, beseemeth to indite.
For what can he but wayle, that hath but all he would,
And yet that all is nought at all, but lacke of all he should:
But lacke of all his minde, what can be greater grief,
That haue and lacke that likes him best, must needes be most mischief.
Now foole what makes thee waile, yet some might say full well,
That hast no harme but of thy selfe, as thou thy selfe canst tell:
to whom I aunswere thus, since all my harmes do grow,
Upon my selfe, so of my selfe, some hap may come I trow.
And since I see, both hap and harme betides to mee,
For present woe, my after blisse, will make me not forget thee:
UUho hath a field of gold, and may not come therein,
Must liue in hope, till he haue force, his treasure well to win.
UUhose ioyes by hope of dread, to conquere or to lose,
So great a wealth doth rise, and for example doth disclose:
to winne the golden Fleece, stoode Iason not in dread,
Till Medeas hope of health, did giue him hope to speede.
Yet sure his minde was much, and yet his feare the more,
That hath no hap, but by your helpe, may hap for to restore:
The raging Bulles he dread, yet by his Ladies charme,
He knew it might be brought to passe, they could do litle harme.
Unto whose grace yeld he, as I do offer me,
Into your handes to hap, not like him for to be:
But as king Priamus, did yeld him to the will,
Of Cressed false, which him forsooke with Diomede to spill.
So I to you commende my faith, and eke my ioye,
I hope you will not be so false, as Cressed was to Troye:
For if I be vntrue, her Lazars death I wish,
And eke in thee if thou be false, her clapper and her dish.
R. L.

Beyng in trouble, he writeth thus.

IN terrours trap, with thraldome thrust,
Their thornie thoughtes, to tast and trie:
In conscience cleare, from cause vniust,
With carping teares did call and crie.
And sayd O God, yet thou art he,
That can and will deliuer me. Bis.
Thus trembling there, with teares I trod,
To totter tide, in truthes defence:
With sighes and sobbes, I sayd O God,
Let right not haue this recompence.
Least that my foes, might laugh to see,
That thou wouldest not deliuer me. Bis.
My soule then to repentaunce ranne,
My ragged clothes all rent and torne:
And did bewaile the losse it wanne.
With lothsome life, so long forlorne,
And sayd O God, yet thou art he,
that can and will deliuer me. Bis.
Then comfort came, with clothes of ioy,
whose seames were faithfull stedfastnesse:
And did bedecke the naked [...]oe,
that earst was full of wretchednesse.
And sayd be glad, for God is hee:
that shortly will deliuer thee.
W. Hunnis.

Being troubled in minde, he writeth as followeth.

THe bitter sweate, that straynes my yelded hart,
the carelesse count, that doth the same imbrace:
[Page]The doubtfull hope, to reape my due desarte,
The pensiue pathe, that guides my restlesse race.
Are at such warre, within my wounded brest,
As doth bereue my ioy, and eke my rest.
My greedy will, that seekes the golden gayne,
My lucklesse lot, doth alway take in worth:
My mated minde, that dreades my sutes in vayne,
My pitious plaint, doth helpe to set it forth.
So that betwene, two waues of raging Seas,
I driue my dayes, in troubles and disease.
My wofull eyes do take their chief delight,
To feede their fill vpon the pleasaunt maze,
My hidden harmes that grow in me by sight:
With pinyng paynes do driue me from the gaze,
And to my hope, I reape no other hire,
But burne my selfe, and I do blow the fire.
I. Haiwood.

Looke or you leape.

IF thou in suretie safe wilt sit,
If thou delight at rest to dwell,
Spende no more wordes then shall seeme fit,
Let tongue in silence talke expell,
In all thinges that thou seest men bent,
See all, say nought, hold thee content.
In worldly workes degrees are three,
Makers, doers, and lookers on,
The lookers on, haue libertie:
Both the others to iudge vpon,
Wherfore in all, as men are bent,
See all, say nought, hold thee content.
The makers oft, are in fault found,
The deers doubt of prayse or shame.
The lookers on finde surest ground,
[Page]They haue the fruite, yet free from blame▪
This doth perswade in all here ment,
See all, say nought, hold thee content.
The Prouerbe is not South and west,
which hath bene sayd long time agoe,
Of little medling commeth great rest:
The busie man neuer wanteth woe,
The best way is, in all worldes sent,
See all, say nought, hold thee content.
I. Haiwood.

A description of the world.

WHat is this world, a net to snare the soule,
A masse of sinne, a desart of deceipt,
A momentes ioy, an age of wretched dole:
A lure from grace, for flesh a lothsome baite,
Unto the minde a canker worme of care,
Unsure, vniust, in rendring man his share.
A place where pride orerunnes the honest minde,
where riche men ioynes, to robbe the shiftlesse wretch,
where bribing mistes, do blind the Iudges eyen:
where Parasites, the fattest croms do catch,
where good vesartes, which chalenge like reward,
Are ouer blowen, with blastes of light regard.
And what is man? dust, slime, a puffe of winde,
Conceiude in sinne, plast in the world with grief,
Brought vp with care, till care hath caught his minde:
And then till death vouchsafe him some relief,
Day, yea nor night, his care doth take an end,
To gather goodes, for other men to spend.
Oh foolish man, that art in office plaist,
Thinke whence thou camste, and whether thou shalt goe,
The haut high ekes, small windes haue ouercast:
when slender weedes, in roughest weather grow,
[Page]Euen so pale death, oft spares the wretched wight,
And woundeth you, who wallow in delight.
You lustie youthes, that nourish high desire,
Abase your plumes, which makes you looke so bigge,
The Colliers Cut, the Courtiers Steede will tire:
Euen so the Clarke, the Parsons graue doth digge,
whose happe so is, yet here long life to winne,
Doth heape God wott, but sorrow vpon sinne.
And to be short, all sortes of men take heede,
The thunderboltes, the loftie towers teare,
The lightning flash, consumes the house of reede:
Yea more in time, all earthly thinges will weare,
Saue onely man, who as his earthly time is,
Shall liue in woe, or els in endlesse blisse.
G. Gask.

A wittie and pleasaunt consaite.

WHat fonde delight, what fancies straunge,
what deepe despight, what sodaine chaunge:
what stilling strife, what deepe debates,
Doe runne so rife, in doltishe pates.
Who vewes and sees, and takes no heede,
who seekes degrees, and can not speede:
In steade of ioyes, shall reape such woes,
As breed annoyes, twixt frendes and foes.
who wiuing wantes, and liues alone,
when thriuing scantes, is ouerthrowne:
who seekes to thriue, and finde no way,
May chaunce to striue, and marre the play.
who spendes his wealth, and winnes the wine,
Doth hurt himselfe, and helpe the swine:
who hauntes the house, where Ale is sold,
May gayne a croust, and lose his gold.
Who spinnes by spight, and reeles to woe,
Who takes delight, in roling so:
Doth dubbe himselfe, a drousie hedde,
And bringes drousie foole to bedde.
Who rides a loft, and cannot rule,
Who sitts not soft, and keepes his stoole:
Doth both content, themselues with wrong,
But wisemen will not vse it long.

¶ The complaynt of a Sinner. And song by the Earle of Essex vpon his death bedde in Ireland.

O Heauenly God, O Father deare, cast downe thy tender eye,
Upon a wretche, that prostrate here, before thy face doth lye:
O poure thy precious oyle of grace, into my wounded hart,
O let the droppes of mercy swage, the rigour of my smart.
My fainting soule suppressed sore, with carefull clogge of sinne,
In humble sort submittes it selfe, thy mercy for to winne:
Graunt mercy then, O Sauiour sweete, to me most wofull thrall,
UUhose mournefull crie, to thee O Lord, doth still for mercy call.
Thy blessed will I haue despised, vpon a stubburne minde,
And to the sway of worldly thinges, my selfe I haue inclinde:
Forgetting heauen, & heauenly powers, where God and Sainctes do dwell,
My life had like to tread the pathe, that leades the way to hell.
But now my Lord, my Lodestarre bright, I will no more do so,
To thinke vpon my former life, my hart doth melt for wo:
Alas I sigh, alas I sobbe, alas I doe repent,
That euer my licencious will, so wickedly was bent.
Sith thus therfore, with carefull plaint, I do thy mercy craue,
O Lord for thy great mercies sake, let me thy mercie haue:
Restore to life the wretched soule, that els is like to dye,
So shall my voyce vnto thy name, sing prayse eternally.
Now blessed be the Father first, and blessed be the Sonne,
And blessed be the holy Ghost, by whom all thinges are done:
Blesse me O blessed Trinitie, with thy eternall grace,
That after death my soule may haue, in heauen a dwelling place.
F. Kindlemarshe.

The fruite that springes from willfull wittes, is ruth and ruine rage▪ And sure what headlesse youth committes, repentaunce rues in age.

I Rage in restlesse youth, and ruines rule my dayes,
I rue (too late) my restlesse youth, by rules of reasons wayes:
I ranne so long a race, in searche of surest way,
That leysure learnd me trade, the trace that lead to leude decay.
I gaue so large a rayne, to vnrestrained bitte,
That now with proofe of after payne, I waile my want of witte:
I trifled forth the time, with trust to selfe conceiptes,
UUhilst plenties vse prickt forth my time, to seeke for sugred baites.
wherein once learnde to finde, I founde so sweete a tast,
That due foresight of after speede, selfewill esteemed wast:
which will through wilfulnesse, hath wrought my witlesse fall,
And heedelesse youthes vnskilfulnesse, hath lapt my life in thrall.
whereby by proofe I know, that pleasure breedeth paine,
And he that euill seede doth sow, euill fruite must reape againe:
Let such therfore whose youth, and purses are in prime,
Foresee and shunne the helpelesse ruth, which sues mispent of time.
For want is next to wast, and shame doth sinne ensue,
Euill speeding proofe hath heedelesse hast, my selfe haue proued it true:
UUhen neighbours next house burnes, tis time therof take heede,
For fortunes wheele hath choise of turnes, which chaūge of chaunces breede.
My sayle hath bene aloft, though now I beare but low,
who climbes so high seeld falleth soft, deadst ebbe hath highest flow.
ꝙ Yloop.

Maister Edwardes his I may not.

IN may by kinde Dame Nature wills, all earthly wights to sing,
In may the new and coupled foules, may ioy the liuely spring:
In May the Nightingall, her notes doth warble on the spray,
[Page]In May the birdes their mossie neastes, doe timber as they may.
In May the swift and turning Hare her bagged belly slakes,
In May the little sucking UUatts, doe plaie with tender Flaxe:
All creatures may, in Maie be glad, no may can me remoue,
I sorrow in May, since I may not, in May obtaine my loue.
The stately Harte in Maye doth mue, his olde and palmed beames,
His state renewes in May, he leapes to view Appollos streames:
In Maie, the Bucke his horned toppes, doth hang vpon the pale,
In Maie, he seekes the pastures greene, in ranging euery Dale.
In Maie, the vgley speckled Snake, doth cast her lothsome skinne,
In Maie, the better that he may increase his scaley skinne:
All thinges in May I see, they may reioyce like Turtle doue,
I sorrow in Maie since I may not, in May obtayne my loue.
Now may I mourne in fruitfull Maie, who may or can redresse,
May maie is sorrow since she that may, with holdes my maie a freshe:
Thus I must may in pleasaunt Maie, till I may May at will,
with her in Maie, whose may my life, now may both saue and spill.
Contented heartes that haue your hope, in May you may at large,
Untolde your ioyes, expell your cares, and baske in pleasure barge:
Saue I alone in Maie, that may lament for my behoue,
I mourne in Maie, till that I may, in May obtaine my loue.

The complaint of a sorrowfull Soule.

O Soueraigne salue of sinne, who doest my soule behold,
That seekes her selfe from tangling faultes, by striuing to vnfold,
What plea shall I put in, when thou doest Summons send:
To iudge the people of the yearth, and giue the world and end,
UUhen euery deede and worde, yea euery secret thought,
In open vewe of all the worlde, shall vnto light be brought.
So many Iudges shall against me sentence giue,
As by example of good woorkes, hath taught how I should liue:
So many pleaders shall confound my carefull case,
As haue in one by sound aduise, sought to engraft by grace.
[Page]So manie shall that time, against me witnesse beare,
As haue beheld my fruitlesse faith, and saw my sinnes appeare.
Whereon whils I do muse, in my amazed minde,
Froward thoughts, familiar foes, most fiers assaults I finde:
My conscience to my face, doth flatlie me accuse,
My secret thoughts within my eares, do whisper still these newes.
Mine auarice and briberie▪ my pride doth bragge me downe,
Mine enuie frets me like a file, at other folks renowne.
Concupiscence inflames, and lusts my limmes infect,
My meat doth burthen, and my drinke my weaknesse doth detect:
My slanders rend my fame, ambition doth supplant,
My greedinesse is not content, but makes me waile for want.
My mirth but flatterie is, my sorrowes are vnkinde,
Sith pleasures runne me out of breath, and greefs suppresse my minde.
Behold my God, whose might, maie me a freeman make,
These were my freends, whose counsels curst, I was content to take:
These were the lawlesse Lords, whom I did serue alwaie,
These were the maisters whose madde hests, I did too much obaie
Behold my faults most foule, which follie first did frame,
In louing them I should haue loathed, whens breedeth all my bane.
Now I do looke aloft, with bashful blushing face,
On glorie thine, that so I maie discerne my owne disgrace
My manie spots and great, must needs encrease my gilt,
Unlesse thou wash them in the bloud, that for my sake was spilt.
Forgiue the faults O Lord, which I from hart repent,
And graunt my daies to come, maie be in thy sweet seruice spent.
I. Heiwood.

¶ Alluding his state to the prodigall child.

THe wandring youth, whose race so rashlie runne,
Hath left behinde, to his eternall shame:
The thriftlesse title of the Prodigall sonne,
To quench, remembraunce of his other name.
[Page]Mate now deuide, the burthen of his blame,
with me, whom wretchlesse thoughtes entised still:
To tread the trackt of his vnruly will.
He tooke his childes part, at his fathers handes,
Of Gods free grace, his giftes I did receiue:
He traueld farre, in many forraigne landes,
My restlesse minde, would neuer raging leaue.
False queanes did him, of all his coine bereaue,
Fonde fancies stuft my braine with such abuse:
That no good hap could seeke to any vse.
They draue him out, when all his pense was spent.
My lustes left me, when strength with age was worne,
He was full fayne, a Fermars hoggs to tent:
My life misled, did reape deserued scorne,
Through hunger huge, where with his trips were torne,
He wisht for swaddes, euen so wisht I most vayne,
In fruitlesse pleasure, fondly to remayne.
Now to come home with him, and pardon pray,
My God I say, against the heauens and thee,
I am not worthy, that my lippes should say:
Behold thy handie worke, and pitie me,
Of mercy yet my soule, from faultes set free.
To serue thee here, till thou appoint the time,
Through Christ, vnto thy blessed ioyes to climbe.
I. Heiwood.

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.