The forrest of fancy Wherein is conteined very prety apothegmes, and pleasaunt histories, both in meeter and prose, songes, sonets, epigrams and epistles, of diuerse matter and in diuerse manner. VVith sundry other deuises, no lesse pithye then pleasaunt and profytable.

The forrest of fancy Wherein is conteined very prety apothegmes, and pleasaunt histories, both in meeter and prose, songes, sonets, epigrams and epistles, of diuerse matter and in diuerse manner. VVith sundry other deuises, no lesse pithye then pleasaunt and profytable.

Table of contents

Title page

The Booke ſpeaketh to the Buyers.

The Authour to the Reader.

R. W. to the Reader, in the Authours behalfe.

The Epiſtle to the Reader.

The Forreſt of Fancy.

¶A morrall of the miſery and miſchiefe that raigneth amongſt wicked worldlinges, with an admonition to all true Chriſtians, to forſake their ſinne and amend their manners.

After the death of Oedipus King of Theabes, his two ſonnes Ethiocles and Polinices ſtriuing whether of them ſhould ſucceede him, in the ende it was agreede, that they ſhould raigne by courſe, one yeare the one, the next yeare the other, But Ethiocles raigning fyrſt, whé his yeare was expired, woulde not giue place to his brother Polinices, which cauſed him to write vnto him in effect as followeth.

A warning to yong men to flye the flattery, and ſhun the deceiptes of diſſembling dames.

A plaine deſcription of perfecte friendship.

An Inuectiue againſt couetous perſons.

Of fayned friendship.

The commodities of Mariage.

In contrarium.

Of the wickedneſſe of women and howe prone they are to the procatious of the fleſh.

What ſmall truſt there is to be repoſed in friendes or kinſfolkes.

A Letter written by a yong maiden to a Louer of hers, wherein ſhe detecteth the trechery of many men, and their great diſſimulation.

A yong man enamoured of a very fayre Gentlewoman, declareth the dollorous paſſions that he ſuffereth for her ſake, and craueth mercy at her handes.

Certaine Verſes written in commendation of the Nut cornell.

A Louer hauing long concealed his loue, at the laſtre. •uealeth it, and craueth fauour at the handes, of his beloued miſtres.

A Louer whoſe friend for his ſake was frowardlye delte withal, writeth vnto her, to perſwade her with pacience, to ſuffer it for a ſeaſon.

An admonition to Maiſters, how they ſhould behaue themſelues towardes their ſeruauntes.

A yong man finding her to whome he had plighted promiſe, to be fraught with another mans fruicte, wrighteth vnto her as followeth.

A Letter written to a yong widdowe, that was before matched with a very olde man, perſwading her to make choyſe of one whoſe yeares weare more agreeable with her owne.

A pretty fancy of the fynding of a Whyte, wherein is collourablely included the courſe of a Captiue Louer, in purchaſing his deſyred purpoſe.

How Altamenes hauing vnwares ſlaine his owne Father Cartareus died for ſorrow, when he had knowledge thereof.

The Authour writeth this in commendation of his miſtreſſe.

An Exhortation to Pacience.

A Louer writing to his choſen friend, who for his ſake ſuſteyned much ſorrow, exhorteth her to continue conſtant, and paciently to tollerate her preſent aduerſity in hope that better happes will inſue.

The Aucthour wrighting to a friend of his, that was toward mariage, exhorteth her to make choyſe of a wyſe and verteous perſon.

Of the great patience and clemency of King Antigonus.

What miſery and miſfortunes mankinde is continually ſubiecte vnto.

A louer hauing long concealed his loue, at the laſt reuealeth it and craueth grace at the handes of his beloued miſtreſſe.

Certaine verſes written in commendation of the Roſe.

The Louer after long abſence hauing onewed his loue, by beholding the bewty of his beloued miſtreſſe, ſueth vnto her for grace, for the appeaſing of his paſſyons.

Of a Souldyer who for couirouſneſſe of a little money, loſt his owne lyfe.

The complaint of one Sidaſpo, who was imflamed with loue through the bewty of his ſeruaunt Aletha.

A Letter which the ſaid Sidaspo ſente to his ſeruaunt Aletha.

The abiect Louer complaineth of the crueltye and diſdainefull lookes of his Lady.

A commendation of the Cock.

A commendacion of the Robin redde breſt.

The long acquainted Louer writeth to his beloued, whoſe grace he deſyred.

Of one Vrbina a Virgin veſtall, taken in adulterye,

Of one Cianippus, who in his dronkenneſſe deflowred his owue daughter ciane.

Of one Ceſelius Baſſus a Carthagenian, who deceiued the Emperour Nero.

The Louer woried with long loue; taking aſſuraunce of ſuccour, enduceth his Lady to receiue 〈◊〉 to her ſeruice.

The Louer hauing long time loued a fayre Gentlewoman, at whoſe handes he had reciued ſmall hope of obtaining his purpoſe, wrighteth vnto her as followeth.

The Louer being promiſed a reſolute aunſwere to that he deſyred, wrighteth to his beloued Miſtreſſe, in this manner, wherein he perſwadeth her, to pittie his paſſions.

The tragedy of Meliager, ſonne to Oeneus King of Calcedonia.

Lenuoy.

A letter written by one to a ritche Widdow, wherein vſing earneſt perſwations he ſoliciteth his ſute, and craueth to be accepted.

The fyrſt Letter written to the ſame widdowe, extolling her vertues, which he allegeth to be the cauſe of his ardent affection, he requyreth mariage of her.

A yong Gentlewoman wrighteth this for aunſwere to a Gentlemans Letter, that craued her loue, and exhorteth her to keepe promiſe with him, wherein excuſing her ſelfe, by her ouer yong yeres, and his vnhabillitye, ſhe prayeth him to ceaſe of his ſute.

A. B. wrighting to his ſiſter C. B. admoniſheth her of ſuch thinges as he fyndeth amuſe in her, and inſtructeth her how ſhee ſhould behaue herſelf to preſerue her good name.

A yong man being in loue wiih a fayre Gentlewoman, that was but his equall, deſyreth to be accepted for her huſband.

C. D. Being enamored of a fayre and vertous yong Gentlewoman he craueth ſpeedy comfort.

The Louer perceiuing the loue of his beloued miſtreſſe, not to be ſo perfect as before time it had bene, wrighteth vnto her as followeth.

A Louer being doubtfull of the good will of his Ladye; by meanes of the mutabillitie that many times he founde to be in her, craueth more aſſuraunce at her handes.

The Auctour writing to his ſiſter that was towardes mariage, teacheth how to make choiſe of a huſband and howe to behaue her ſelfe beeing a Wyfe.

A pore yong mau being vehemently vexed for the loue of a fyre yong Gentlewoman, craueth her fauour for the conſeruation of his lyfe, almoſt conſumed.

How fooliſh women are in the choyſe of their Louers.

Damion wrighteth to his friend Sulippo exhorting him to ſeeke preferment whilſt the time ſerueth.

Varinus hauing found in the night time that which pleſed his fancy he commendeth it much, and craueth to be accepted for her ſeruant whom he intyrely loued.

A pore yong man being in loue with a ritch Gentlewoman, fynding it ſomewhat difficult to obtaine any fauoure at her handes, ſought to ſuppreſſe his fond affection, but could not, wherfore he wrighteth vnto her in effecte as followeth.

The great loue that Itafernes wyfe bare to her brother.

A Louer that ſtoode at an vncertaine ſtaye, wrighteth this for aunſwere to a Letter that he receyued from her whome he loued.

The ſtraunge pangs of a pore paſſionate Louer.

Of the thankefulneſſe of a Dragon towardes a man that had brought him vp.

R. D. Being inflamed with the loue of a very bewtifull Gentlewoman, by a ſodaine view that he tooke of her, doth colourably declare his caſe vnto her.

An aunſwere to a Letter that was not onely darke, but alſo ſo diſordered, as their could no ſence be perceiued in it.

C. L. Wrighting to a ſpeciall Friende of his, that was ſomewhat greeued in minde, for certaine troubles that were happened vnto him, geneth him ſuch friendly conſolation as was riquiſite for one in his caſe.

A yong Gentleman whoſe loue was hindred by falce reportes, wrighteth to his Lady that had promiſed her good will, ſo her friendes would agree vnto it.

Seigneor Franciſco Vergelis, for a fayr ambling gelding, ſuffered one Seigneor Richardo Magniffico to talk with his wife, who gaue him no aunſwere at all, but he aunſwering for her, in ſuch ſort as if ſhe her ſelf had ſpoken it, according to the effect of his wordes, it came afterwards to paſſe.

Theodore enamoured of Maiſter Emories daughter, that was his Maiſter, got her with child, for the which he was condemned to be hanged, and as he was whipped through the Stretes to the place of execution, being knowne to his Father he procured his pardon, and ſo Thodore married the maide whom he had before de flowred. Whereby is ſignified the diuers dangerous and troubleſome accidentes that dayelye happen vnto vs, by the power of loue, and frailty of fortune the only tormenters of mans life.

¶ One named Salard, departing from Genes, came to Montferat where he tranſgreſſed three commaundementes that his Father gaue him by his laſt will and Teſtamente, and being condemned to dye, was deliuered, and retourned againe into his owne countrey.

§

[Page]

[Page] THE FORREST OF Fancy.

WHEREIN IS CONTEINED VEry prety Apothegmes, and pleaſaunt hiſtories, both in meeter and proſe, Songes, Sonets, Epigrams and Epiſtles, of diuerſe matter and in diuerſe manner.

VVith ſundry other deuiſes, no leſſe pithye then pleaſaunt and profytable.

Reade with regard, peruſe each point well, (thee and then giue thy iudgement as reaſon shall moue For eare thou conceiue it, twere hard for to tell, if cauſe be or no wherefore to reproue me.

¶ Imprinted at London by Thomas Purfoote, dwelling in Newgate Market, within the new Rents, at the Signe of the Lucrece. 1579.

The Booke ſpeaketh to the Buyers.

[Page]

[Page]

To thoſe that be welthy, and paſſe by this place.

My talke only tendeth, ſo conſter the caſe.

WHat kind of thing I am,

my shape doth shew the ſame:

No Forreſt, though my father pleaſde,

to tearme me by that name.

But Fancy fits me well,

For I am fully fraught,

With Fancies ſuch as may correct

but not corrupt the thought.

In me my friend thou mayſt,

(though thou be yong or olde)

Ritche, poore, of high or low degree,

thy duety here beholde.

For Yonkers I haue fonde,

and foolish trifles ſtore:

For auncient ſyres, ſuch ſeemely ſightes,

as ſhall content them more.

If thou a Louer bee,

come learne thy leſſon here:

Where wilfull workes of witles wightes,

ſhall perfect playne appeare.

What treaſon is in truſt,

how fickle friendes are found:

How wretched is the ſtate of man,

what miſchiefe doth abound.

What follies fond we frame,

our foolish fancy to:

Here mayſt thou ſee, and ſo diſcearne,

what beſt beſeetes to do.

Sith then ſuch profite may,

by meanes of me redounde:

[Page] To thee my friend, before thou paſſe,

this preſent plot of grounde.

Put hand in purſe for pence,

to purchaſe me withall:

What foole a Forreſt would forſake,

that ſees the price ſo ſmall,

A Shilling is the moſte,

a very ſlender ſhare:

No hurt to him that hath ynough,

ſo ſmall a peece to ſpare.

Finis.

qd. Fancy.

The Authour to the Reader.

THe Husbandman when meeteſt time ſhall ſerue,

doth plow his ground, and ſow good ſeedes therein,

Then ſeekes he how he ſhould the ſame preſerue,

From carryon crowes, that gape the graine to win,

Vntill that it to ripen doe begin.

And being ripe, he makes no more delay,

But reapes it vp, ſo ſoone as well he may.

His corne thus cropt, and ſcattered on the ground,

Straight into ſheafes he doth the ſame deuide,

And to his Barnes he beares it ready bound,

Whereas a while he ſuffers it to bide.

Till at the laſt he thraſhers doth prouide,

Who from the corne the ſtraw and ſtubble take,

And on a heape the graine togither rake.

Which as it is, they put into a Fan,

And ſo deuiſe to driue the chaffe from it.

My ſelfe I count to be the Huſbandman,

For in this booke, as in a ground moſt fit,

To ſow the ſeedes of my vnwildy wit,

[Page] I ſcattered haue my fancies in ſuch wiſe.

And ſenſt them ſo, as I can beſt deuiſe.

All being done that doth thereto pertaine,

Good Reader I preſent to thee the ſame,

Deſiring thee that thou wilt take the payne,

All thinges amiſſe to put in perfect frame:

And beare with me although I merite blame,

Conſidering that I ſought of meere good will,

in all I might thy fancy to fulfill.

In Forreſt wiſe here fancies I preſent.

To thee, with hart that feruently doth craue,

Each curteous wight to way my good intent,

And note the cauſe why I preſumed haue,

To thruſt my ſelfe amidſt the ſurging waue.

Not glory vaine, or hope to purchaſe praiſe.

But ſloth to ſhon, my mind thereto did raiſe.

R. W. to the Reader, in the Authours behalfe.

[Page]

VVhat led Leander to preſume,

ſo oft to ſwim through ſurging ſeas:

But hope to fynd his Hero there,

where he ariu'de his hart to eaſe.

What moude the Troyan to attempt,

to go to Greece, but hope to haue

The princely pearle, the promiſed pray,

which moſt of all his hart did craue?

And what procured Aeſans ſoone,

to put his life in perrill ſo,

To fetch the Fleece from Colcos Coſte?

where to augment his greefe and wo,

So many perrils were preparde,

but that he hopte thereby to gaine:

Such glory great as after death,

ſhould make his fame for aye remayne.

If all theſe hopte, and had in fine,

the thing that they did hold moſt deare:

Let him that hath this prety booke,

for thy delight compyled heare,

Good Reader, reape his iuſt reward,

to recompence his meere good will,

Receiue his gift in gratefull wiſe,

and of the ſame conceiue none ill.

For euill none he ment thereby,

(what euer enuious mates ſurmiſe:)

Right ſure I am: conceiue therefore,

of him and his none otherwiſe.

So ſhalt thou make him think his paynes,

imployed well in each reſpect.

And happy count his hap that ſome,

will with good will his work protect.

Finis.

The Epiſtle to the Reader.

[Page]

SO variable are the minds of men (gentle Reader) and ſo diuerſe their opinions, that amongſte twenty, it is hard to fynd twaine that agree all in one thing. For commonly that which one man lyketh, another loatheth, that which one man praiſeth, another reproueth, that which one deſyreth, another diſdayneth, and whatſoeuer pleaſeth one, doth as much diſpleaſe another. The yong man taketh pleaſure in all youthfull excerſiſes, as Daunſing, Synging, playing on inſtruments, dallying with daynty dames, and ſuch like, whereby his pleaſure may be procured, and increaſed, without reſpecting any perrill that maye inſue thereof. The aunciente Syre, whome experience hath taught to be more wiſe and wary of ſuch vaine vanities, hath an eye to his profit, and reiecteth pleaſure as a thing vnprofytable. The couragious Captayne accompteth it for his greateſt glory to be in the field, marching among his men of warre, or ſkirmiſhing with his enemies, to trie his ſtrength and courage, with the hazarde of his life, for the furtheraunce of his fame, and increaſe of his commodity. The man likewiſe that is inclyned to learning, is alwayes beſt at eaſe when he is ſetled in his ſtudy, there to toſſe and turne his bokes, peruſing the workes of auncient wrighters, whereby he may in tyme be able both to profite his countrey, and purchaſe ſuch prayſe to himſelf as is due to his good deſyres. But as theſe great clarkes doe not all delight to ſtudy one onely ſcience, but ſome apply themſelues to deuinity, ſome to Philoſophie, ſome to phiſicke, ſome to Aſtronomy, and ſome to euery one of them alike, not making any ſpeciall choyſe of eyther of [Page] them. So likewiſe the common ſorte whoſe learning nor capacity cannot attaine to the full perfection or perfecte vnderſtanding of ſuch deepe miſteries, haue their ſeueral delightes, as well in reading ſuch workes, as are in theire vulgare tongue, as in any thing elſe. For one will peruſe pleaſant Hiſtories, and other poeticall deuiſes, this man merry tales, and other like toyes: that man deuine and morrall matter, euery one ſeuerally, according to his ſeuerall affection, and naturall inclination, and there is no man be he neuer ſo well ſtayed, that will adict himſelfe to one thing onely, and refuſe all other. For as the ſtomacke is quickly cloyed with feeding continuallye vppon one kinde of meate, ſo is the mind greatly greeued, to bee alwayes muſing vppon one matter, and therefore deſyreth chaunge.

Which conſidered, after I had gathered togither in one ſmall volume diuerſe deuiſes, as well in proſe as meeter, of ſundry ſortes, and ſeuerall matter, which at idle times (as wel to sharpen my wits, and shake of ſloth, as to ſatiſfye my friendes, that had occaſion to craue my helpe in that behalfe) I haue heretofore as occaſion ſerued, diuerſly framed, ſuppoſing the ſame to be fitte for this preſent time, and agreable with the mindes of moſte men, I haue (as well for the diſordered placing of euery perticuler parcel thereof, being rudely and diſperſedly deuided, as alſo for the ſeuerall fancies therin contained, fit for euery degree, & agreable to their diuerſe affections) thought good to name it The Forreſt of Fancy, and ſo cauſing it to be imprinted, I doe here friendly Reader, preſent it vnto thee as a gift, of my good will, deſiring thee to accept it. And though my yong yeares and ſmall experience, will not permit me to wryghte ſo pithily as ſome haue done heretofore, whoſe worthy works are extant, and in great eſtimation, yet conſidering that I haue not done it either for gaine or glory, but partly to make my ſelfe more apte in other matters of more importaunce wherein I maye [Page] happen hereafter to be imployed, and partly to procure thy pleaſure and profite (which may eaſilye be obtained) if thou doe duely conſider, and rightly conceiue of that which ſhall be offered to thy view, I beſeech thee conſter my doinges to the beſt, take this my ſmall labour in good parte, amend the faultes eſcaped. Let my good meaning ſerue to excuſe my rashnes, in preſuming thus boldly to publish a thing of ſo ſmall valew, and vouchſafe me thy friendly aſſiſtaunce againſt the ſlaundrous reportes of enuious Zoylus and his mallicious mates, and in ſo doing, thou shalt incourage me hereafter to ſearch my wits, and apply my trauaile to contriue ſome thing more worthy thy reading.

The Forreſt of Fancy.

[Page]

¶A morrall of the miſery and miſchiefe that raigneth amongſt wicked worldlinges, with an admonition to all true Chriſtians, to forſake their ſinne and amend their manners.

WHo ſo he be that ſilent ſits,

and ſets his mind to ſee,

The ſubtle ſlights that wily wights

doe worke in each degree.

ſhall ſurely fynd full great abuſe,

In euery place committed:

And vertue boyde and out of vſe,

all reaſon quight remitted:

Might maiſtereth right, the pore are pincht,

almoſt in euery place,

Fraude, flattery, gold, and greedy gaine,

each where doth purchaſe grace.

But truth and plaine ſimplicity.

reapes hatred euery where:

Good deedes are dead, and charity,

hath hid her head for feare.

Whores hold the place that Matrons [...]lde,

doe merite moſte to haue:

And flattery flockes about the Court,

in ſteede of fathers graue.

The couetous carle doth ſcrape for coyne,

the royotous ſonne ſpendes all:

The true man cannot ſcape the theefe,

but in his handes muſt fall,

The Uſurer now doth vſe his trade,

The Landlord raiſe his rent:

The powling Lawyer playes his part,

the truth to circumuent.

Our Gentles now doe iette it out,

in brauery paſſing meaſure,

[Page] Till they haue loſt by vaine expence,

both credite, land and treaſure.

The yeomans ſonne not liking of,

his fathers honeſt ſtate,

Will climbe to be a gentle man,

and euery Gentles mate.

The Gentleman will be a Knight,

the Knight a Lord likewiſe,

The Lord an Earle, the Earle a Duke,

the Duke will higher riſe,

And make himſelfe a puiſaunt Prince,

the Prince will Monarke be,

So no man now will be content,

To bide in his degree.

The ſonne doth ſeeke his fathers death,

his liuing to obtaine,

Faith fayles in all, few truſty friendes,

doe any where remayne.

The mayſter ſeekes by rygorous meanes,

his ſeruauntes to ſuppreſſe,

And ſeruaunts worke all meanes they may,

their mayſters to diſtreſſe.

Now mothers trayne their Daughters vp,

In loathſome liberty:

Whereby oft times their honeſt names

they bring in ieoperdy.

Exceſſe is vſde in euery place,

the pore no whit releude,

Labour is loathde, and Idleneſſe

ech where his web hath weude,

The Tauernes tiplers ply a pace,

eache alehouſe hath his knightes:

In dice and dauncing, deuiliſh trades,

are all their whole delightes.

All law is left for liberty,

all vertue changde for vice:

[Page] All truth is turnde to Trecheryē,

all thinges inhaunce their price.

Eache craftes man now hath craft at will,

his neighbour to defraude,

They ſweare, and oft forſweare themſelues,

for euery fooliſh gaude.

But is it well where euery thing,

doth ſeeme ſo much amis?

No doubtleſſe no: a wicked world,

and wretched ſtate it is.

A world in deede, deuided quight,

from godlineſſe and grace:

A world that greatly God abhorres,

from which he turnes his face.

A world it is, which will not laſt,

a world whoſe end is nye:

A world that ſhall his fury taſte,

that fees our ſins from hye.

A world that will full well content,

the enemy of our ioy.

A world that workes his lewd intent,

that would our ſoules deſtroy.

Therefore let each true chriſtian hart,

his ſecrete ſins forſake:

To God let him with ſpeede reuert,

and meeke ſubiection make,

Committing all his actions ſtill,

to his deuine protection,

So ſhall he ſurely ſhun all ill,

and liue without infection.

Finis.

After the death of Oedipus King of Theabes, his two ſonnes Ethiocles and Polinices ſtriuing whether of them ſhould ſucceede him, in the ende it was agreede, that they ſhould raigne by courſe, one yeare the one, the next yeare the other, But Ethiocles raigning fyrſt, whé his yeare was expired, woulde not giue place to his brother Polinices, which cauſed him to write vnto him in effect as followeth.

[Page]

THy cruell dealing hath prue [...]de,

thy Brothers trembling hand,

O Etheocles for to write,

and let thee vnderſtand

what iniury thou doeſt offer me,

in going thus about

To breake the promiſe made to me,

wherein thou doeſt no doubt,

Both God and nature much offend,

for when we were at ſtrife,

when deadly diſcord twixt vs twaine,

and enuye was ſo rife,

That each of vs the Kingdome craude,

our father then deceſt,

It was by counſayle graue decreede,

to cauſe our countreyes reſt,

That each ſhould yearely raigne by courſe,

whereto thou didſt agree,

Then drawing Lots who ſhould be fyrſt,

the lot did light on thee.

I gaue thee place, as right requyrde,

thou haſt a yeare and more,

Enioyde the ſame moſt peaceably

without anoy, therefore

Thou ſhouldſt permit thy brother now,

thee therein to ſupply,

[Page] To rule as thou haſte done before,

but thou doeſt it deny,

So much ambition doth thee blind,

and fylthy lukers lure,

That to reſigne to me my right,

thou mayſt now now indure,

For when I did the ſame demaund,

thou proudly didſt refuſe,

To render it, wherein thou doeſt

thy brother much abuſe,

But doeſt thou thinke I will receiue,

ſuch aunſwers at thy hande

And ſuffer thee againſt my will,

to rule the Realme and land.

Which I ſhould doe, that will I no

for all thy power and ſtrength,

But in deſpight of thee I hope,

to haue the ſame at length.

And make thee feele the ſmake thy ſelfe,

of this thy offred wrong,

If that to yield to my requeſt,

thou doeſt the time prolong.

Adraſtus is a mighty King,

whoſe Daughter is my wife,

And for that cauſe wich all his power,

will aide me during life,

whoſe force conioyned ſhith mine owne,

doth farre ſurpaſſe thy might,

Therefore let reaſon ī me the raine,

doe yeeld to me my right,

Let vs like brethren liue and loue,

each other as we ought:

Let vs not ſtray from natures boundes,

and ſtirre vp ſtrife for naught.

Leaſt that Reporte reproch [...],

on vs doe rumour raiſe,

[Page] And ſo the race of Oedipus,

be wicked deemde alwayes.

what though our father did offend,

in taking to his fere

Jocaſta fayre vnwittingly,

that was his mother deare,

Shall that to vs a patterne be:

to teach vs to offend.

Nay rather let it be a meane,

to make vs to amend.

Shall it be ſayd that we haue wrought,

the ruine of our land,

And of our ſelues ſo wilfully,

let all thinges well be ſcand.

Conſider well what daungers great,

we may incurre thereby,

And what great miſchiefe may inſue

if thou this thing deny,

Thou knoweſt that from the mighty Ioue,

decendes our royall race,

Let vs not therefore doe the thing,

that may our byrth deface,

Let not the Thebans iuſtly be

compeld to curſe vs both,

For thy ambitious greedy mind,

whereof I would be loth,

For what if in this curſed ſtrife,

we both ſhould chaunce to dye,

what great contention ſhould there be,

who ſhould our place ſupply?

what great diſdaine? what priny grudge?

what tumultes then would grow?

what hurly burly would there be?

what treaſon then would flowe?

Through ciuill warre the countrey would,

be topſy turuy turude

[Page] Strong holds would then be battered downe,

whole Townes and Citties burnde,

What clamours then. what dolefull cryes,

would be throughout the land?

Now many Orphans would be made?

who ſhould in ſafety ſtand?

Chaſt Uirgins would be then deflourde,

yong infantes would be ſlaine,

The rich men ſhould be ſpoylde and robde,

the porer put to paine,

Oh what diſorder then would grow?

what murder made of men?

what ſacraledge, what raunſack rude,

what bloodſhead would be then?

waye well theſe thinges, my brother deare,

which if thou doe proceede,

Is lykely for to come to paſſe,

therefore I ſay take heede,

For if thou be the cauſe thereof,

then truely ſhalt thou trye,

Their blood on thee for thy deſertes,

from heauen will vengeaunce crye.

And I not to be blamde at all.

ſith that I nothing craue,

But that which doth to me partaine

and I of right ſhould haue,

Take heede in time, aduiſe thee well,

hereafter comes not yet,

The houſe can not ſtand long, that is

on ill foundation ſet,

The ſhip that at ſure anker lyes,

is ſafe in euery place:

Twirt backe and tree, thruſt not thy hande

beware in any caſe

Thou put not fyre vnto the tow,

ſharpe not thy knife I ſay,

[Page] If thou therewith wilt not be hurt,

but take this by the way.

That if thou tread vpon a worme.

ſhe will turne back againe:

Care Stede be ſtolne, ſhut ſtable dore,

elſe is it all in vaine.

For he that takes not heede before,

ſhall afterwardes repent it:

Wherefore I ſay looke to it well.

whilſt that thou maiſt preuent it.

A man when he doth ſee the ſtroke,

may ſoone auoyde the ſame,

So thou if that to reaſons lore,

thou wilt thy fancy frame.

Thou maiſt this miſchiefee eaſly ſhun,

that hangeth ouer thee:

But who ſo blind the prouerb ſayth,

as hee that will not ſee.

Thou knoweſt all this as well as I,

I neede not make relation

Thereof to thee, wordes are but wind,

where will hath domination.

Raine nothing profite can the corne,

which on drie ſtones is ſowne:

Nor councell, him which doth miſlike,

all counſell ſaue his owne,

I can and doe bide wrong ynough,

but cannot to much beare:

Looke eare you leape, for feare you catch,

awrong ſow by the eare.

As by his Trumpe, the trumpiter

doth ſhow his meaning plaine,

So bymy letters in likewiſe,

my purpoſe I explaine.

Doe therefore as you ſhall ſee cauſe,

the blame ſhall byde in you:

[Page] If any thing amiſſe do chaunce.

and ſo I ſay adue,

Finis.

A warning to yong men to flye the flattery, and ſhun the deceiptes of diſſembling dames.

WHat hard miſhaps doth hamper youth,

when curſed Cupid liſt to frowne:

And yet he will not credite truth,

Till froward fortune fling him downe.

But when he is with dole diſtreſt,

Then all to late he can perceiue,

what madnes did his mind molleſt,

His wretched woe by wrong to weaue,

yea then he doth all Dames defy,

And vowes in vaine their fraude to flye,

Muſt hory heares needes make vs wiſe,

Diſcouering naked treaſons hooke,

whoſe glittering hue by ſlight deuice.

Doth make them blind that thereon looke,

And till in trappe they taken be,

That turnes their pleaſure all to paine,

Their folly fond they cannot ſee,

Such madnes moues their buſy braine,

In wiſdomes wayes they think they walke,

And ſo for cheſe doe champe on chalke.

If liuing wightes might playnly ſee,

The wily workes of womens wits,

which couered cloſe in boſome he,

Diſcloſde at laſt by frantike fits.

Then would they learne to leaue their lookes,

And glaunce no more their glaring eyes,

Uppon thoſe baites on hidden hookes,

[Page] Which whoſo ſhall attempt to taſt,

Is like for aye in woe to waſt.

Where ſuters ſerue with long delay,

In dayly hope of ſome good hap,

Tormenting griefes at length doth pay,

Their pencion with an after clappe,

For ſuch rewardes they dayly fynde,

That fyxe their fancy faithfully,

On any catte of Creſſeds kinde.

That neuer countes of conſtancy,

whome Eue inſtructed long agoe,

To worke to man all greefe and woe.

Behold the gwerdon due to loue,

Beſtowde vpon a fickle Dame,

As good of xotten redes to proue,

Some precious iem in forme to frame,

For why repentaunce comes at laſt,

And gripes his hart with grieſly greefe,

That erſt fond fancy followed faſt,

which left him voyde of all reliefe:

A iuſt reward for recheleſſe wightes,

That will not ſhun ſuch vain delightes.

Youth bends his net to catch the pray,

which ſome inioy that take no paine,

Ht toyles, yet ſeeth euery day,

His labour waſted all in vaine,

He beates the buſh, and in meane ſpace,

Another beares the byrdes away,

He fiercely doth purſue the chaſe,

whilſt others doe poſſeſſe the pray,

And ſo the end of louers gaine,

Is loathſome labour for their paine.

Finis.

A plaine deſcription of perfecte friendship.

[Page]

TRue friendſhip vnfained

Doth reſt vnreſtrayned,

No terrour can came it:

Not gaining, nor loſing.

Nor gallant gay gloſing,

can euer reclaime it.

In paine, and in pleaſure,

The moſt trueſt treaſure.

That may be deſyred,

Is loyall loue deemed.

Of wiſedome eſteemed,

and chefely required.

Finis.

An Inuectiue againſt couetous perſons.

AS after Sommer winter comes,

ſo age doth youth inſue:

And after age comes ſicknes in,

then death doth life ſubdue,

And after death the winding ſheete,

which bringes vs to the graue,

This is the ſtate of mortall men,

this is the end they haue.

Wherefore doe men then heape vp coyne,

and hord it vp ſo faſt,

why doe they care for worldly much,

as life would euer laſt.

why doe they take ſuch paines for thee.

which they muſt leaue behind.

To them that will diſpearſe the ſame,

as chaffe againſt the winde.

Of fayned friendship.

[Page]

AS Swallowes doe in Sommer time appeare,

And in the winter cold cannot be ſeene,

So faithles friendes will vnto vs draw neare,

ſo long as welth doth flouriſh freſh and greene,

But when that fayles, then farewell friendſhip to,

All is for gaine, that theſe vile vipers do.

The commodities of Mariage.

IF mariage bring a wife,

the wife good children bringes,

Thoſe children happy life,

of happy life loue ſpringes,

Of loue eternall ioy,

of ioy doth health proceede,

Of health long lyfe for aye.

loe this is mariage meede,

In contrarium.

If mariage bring a wife,

the wi [...]e ill children bringes,

Thoſe children endles ſtrife,

of ſtrife all hatred ſpringes,

Of hatred care and greefe,

through care doth ſickneſſe come,

Through ſickneſſe death in breefe.

lo this is all the ſomme.

Finis.

Of the wickedneſſe of women and howe prone they are to the procatious of the fleſh.

IOue on a day diſpoſde to ieſt,

with Iuno for delight,

[Page] The wicked wiles of womens wits,

in wordes did plaine reſite.

And ſaid that they to fleſhly luſtes,

more ſubiect were then men.

Iuno denyde, to haue it tryde,

they craued iudgement then.

And for becauſe Tireſias had,

both man and woman bin,

Suppoſing him the meteſt man,

and moſt expert therein,

They did elect him for their iudge,

the truth thereof to trye:

He ſentence paſt with Iupiter.

and boldly did replye,

That women were the wantonner,

although for ſhame they ſought,

For to conceale from open ſhew.

what was their ſecret thought.

But Iuno as the nature is,

of all the femine ſect,

When as ſhe ſaw Tireſias did

her wiſhed will reiect,

In giuing ſo his ſentence graue,

contrary to her mind,

(Inflamde with yre to worke reuenge,)

ſhe made Tireſias blinde,

Therefore I muſt of force conclude,

that neither fury fell,

Nor Serpent dyre, not Tiger fierce,

nor all the fiendes in hell.

May more torment the mind of man,

or worke his wretched woe:

So much as can one wicked wench,

in whome doth fury floe.

Finis.

What ſmall truſt there is to be repoſed in friendes or kinſfolkes.

[Page]

SIth friendſhip is as rare a thing to finde,

As tis to ſee a Swanne all black of hue:

Wiſe Eſope in his Fables as we finde,

Doth warne vs well to thinke no friend ſo true.

That will be preſt, our pleaſure to fulfill,

So redily as we the ſame require,

For why in truſt is treaſon tried ſtill,

And faireſt lookes doe lack the beſt deſyre:

Wherefore (ſaith he) let no man truſt his friend,

To doe the thing which he himſelfe may doe,

For feare he be deceaued in the end,

By thoſe whome he hath leaned moſt vnto,

For profe whereof a Fable he reſightes,

which who ſo notes, ſhall find to great effect,

The fraude of friendes he plainly there reſites,

who to their promiſe haue but ſmall reſpect.

A Larke there was vpon a certaine tyme,

That trained vp her yong ones in a feild,

Where Corne did grow, which then was euen in prime,

To be cut downe as ripe, the Larke to ſheild

Her little ones from harme, when as ſhe went

Abrode to get ſuch meate as ſhould ſuffice

To feede them with, did giue commaundement,

That they ſhould haue regard in any wiſe

To that they heard, and at her back returne,

To tell her all: it hapned on a day,

whilſt ſhe was forth, that thether came the Borne,

which ought the field, which to his ſonne did ſay,

This geare is ripe and ready to be cut,

wherefore to morrow go thou in my name,

Unto our friendes, and them in mind doe put

To come and helpe me to diſpatch the ſame.

[Page] which charge his ſon diſchargde in each reſpect,

whereto his friends in friendly wiſe did frame

Their aunſwere ſtraight, that they would not neglect,

To worke his will when night approched was,

This Larke come home her byrds did flitter faſt,

About her all and ſhewing what did pas,

Deſyred her, that ſhe in all the haſte,

wold them tranſport vnto ſome other place,

But ſhe perſwading them to be content,

Commaunded them next day to lend good eare,

To that they heard, and ſo awaye ſhe went.

Next day in Field the farmer doth appeare,

with Sim his ſonne, where all that day they ſpent,

But of his friendes there came not one of all,

wherefore vnto his ſonne againe he ſaid,

To morrow to my Coſines goe you ſhall,

And ſay that I require their friendly ayde,

To reape my corue: the yong ones hearing this,

More earneſt were with their beloued damme,

To be remoued from thence, but ſhe ywis,

Did let it ſlip vntill the next day came,

For why quoth ſhe, no coſins are ſo kinde,

That by and by will come at kinſemans call,

To morrow therefore marke what newes you find,

And then if neede require, Ile helpe you all.

Next day the Coſins came not into place,

wherefore the good man ſayd, all friendes farewell,

And kinſmen to, now will I chaunge the caſe,

And truſt no trifling tale that they ſhall tell,

Truſt to our ſelues we will, go thou my ſoune,

Prouide to ſickles for thy ſelfe and me,

And by our ſelues it ſhall to morne be done.

when as the Larke hard this, nay now quoth ſhe,

Tis time indeede to pack away from hence,

Unles we will each one deſtroyed be,

And ſo ſhe bare her little ones from thence,

Finis.

A Letter written by a yong maiden to a Louer of hers, wherein ſhe detecteth the trechery of many men, and their great diſſimulation.

[Page]

THe crow would ſeeme a milk white ſwan to be,

So likewiſe would the pratling rooke appeare,

Like Iunos byrd, which cannot well agree,

For kind bewrayes his craft, this is moſt cleare

yea Copper oft in Siluer is incloſde,

In glittering gold, great ſtore of droſſe doth bide,

In pureſt ſhels, as triall hath diſcloſde,

Carnels corrupt, themſelues [...] often hide,

The wily wolfe we diuerſe times do fynde,

In ſheepes ſkin cloathde, and eake the duſty wall,

with hangings faire is hid, in humaine kinde,

We alſo ſee the like effect to fall,

For many a one there is, that makes a ſhow,

Of perfect loue, when he meanes nothing leſſe,

Men ſeeke to bring poore women to their bow,

And in the end to leaue them in diſtreſſe.

And for becauſe I thought you one of thoſe,

whoſe pleaſure is pore women to deceiue,

with tatling tong you flatteringly can gloſe,

As by your deedes I dayly do perceaue,

I ſent to you a flower for Flatterers fit,

Regarding naught how ye the ſame would take,

So free I am from biting on the bit,

As yet not drencht in Lady Venus lake.

If ought beſide be done that you like ill,

And that the ſame in euill part you take,

Goe ſeeke your mendes you may whereas you will,

I reke you naught, this aunſwere doe I make,

And though before, offence were none committed,

yet this your writing fond would it procure,

[Page] which hath full well with your demeanour fitted,

Being rude, and imprudent, and ill to indure,

No more I neede at this time here to ſay,

For well you may by this my mind perceiue,

yet of one thing I warne you by the way,

That with vaine hope your ſelfe you not deceiue,

And ſo to conclude, I bid you adue,

wiſhing you aduiſedly my letters to view.

A yong man enamoured of a very fayre Gentlewoman, declareth the dollorous paſſions that he ſuffereth for her ſake, and craueth mercy at her handes.

THe more I looke vppon her louely face,

whoſe like before dame nature neuer framde,

The more I like, and long to liue in grace,

Of her that may Pandora well be namde,

whoſe deedes as due, the higheſt place haue claimde,

A Phenic rale, ſhe may be tearmed right,

That ſo ſurmountes each other earthly wight.

Of Silke and Siluer, ſeemes her heare to be,

Her teeth of pearle, her eyes of Chriſtall cleare,

Her lippes of Ruby, wrought in each degree,

She doth excell, and vaunteth voide of peere,

Her like did neuer liue, that I could heare,

who would not then accompt himſelf in blis,

That might inioy, ſo rare a iem as this,

Sir Aleran as may by bookes appeare,

A ſily Sacon, ſought her loue to gaine

That was the Emperour Othos Daughter deare,

And did in fine his wiſhed will obtaine,

She graunted grace to quite his carefull paine,

And fearing nought her fathers furious yre.

[Page] Did yield her hart all whole at his deſyre.

And Achariſto he but baſely borne,

Beſought the loue of fayre Euphimia

who ſeemed nought his courteſy to ſcorn,

Though ſhe were Queene of riche corinthia,

Yong Iaſon eke obtained Medea,

who though ſhe knew not him nor his eſtate,

Forſooke her friendes to be his matched mate.

A million more I might alledge of thoſe.

That did by ſeeking ſoone obtayne their will,

And when they were bewrapt in wretched woes.

Had ſpeedy helpe to ſhield themſelues from ill,

which otherwiſe their youthfull dayes would ſpill,

yea ſome we ſee from ſeruill ſtate aduaunſt,

By worthy dames whoſe grace to gaine they chaunſt.

Then ſpeake and ſpeede, be ſtill and want thy hyre,

For many a time and oft I haue hard ſay,

And ſometime proude, that he that would aſpire,

To that which will doth wiſh, the wiſeſt way,

Is to expulſe diſpayre which makes men ſtray,

Farre from the path of perfect peace and reſt,

Sith Fortune ſtill, doth helpe the bouldeſt beſt.

For can the Leach recure his pacientes paine,

Before he ſee from whence his greefe doth grow,

Or can the Lawyer pleade a matter plaine,

Unles to him, his caſe the client ſhow,

Then ſhould this dainty dame on me beſtow

Her loyall loue before ſhe trye my truth,

The meeteſt meane to moue her mind to ruth.

Then welcome hope, and fooliſh feare farewell,

Farewell all care, and welcome pleaſaunt ioy,

[Page] That guilefull geſt no more with me ſhall dwell,

That would my helth and happy hap deſtroy.

What ſhould I doubt, ſith ſhe is nothing coy,

Her gentle hart can not his hurt procure,

That for her ſake would any death indure.

On her my health, on her my happy dayes,

Doe whole depend, on her my myrth or mone,

My welth or wo, my paine or pleaſure ſtayes,

My lyfe and death doth reſt in her alone,

By her I muſt, alas, or elſe by none,

Receaue releefe, and hope to haue redreſſe,

Of all the paines that doe my mind oppreſſe.

And as her bewty brane bindes me to loue,

So doth her courtious countinaunce comfort yielde,

And as the paine I feele my mind doth moue,

So hope perſwades that grace ſhall gaine the field,

But hap what may, both loue and paine that builde

Their bower in breſt, my ſorrowes ſo renue,

That forſt I am for grace to ſeeke and ſue.

Behold therefore deare dame thy ſeruaunt heare,

Lies proſtrate at thy feete to pleade for grace,

Oh rue my ſtate let pittie plaine appeare,

For thou alas haſte brought me in ſuch caſe,

As if I find not fauour in thy face,

Like one that loathes his lyfe I wiſh my graue

To quench the cares which doe my health depraue.

The bale I bide, I would right happy count,

And thinke my ſelfe in Paradice to be,

Yea in good hap all others to ſurmount,

might it but pleaſe you once to deeme of me

As I deſerue, and graciouſly agree,

To take me for your ſeruaunt, ſlaue or ſwayne,

[Page] Whoſe mind to pleaſe, I would refuſe no payne.

Few wordes will ſerue a righteous cauſe to pleade,

If Iudge be iuſt, by whome it muſt be tryde,

How ſaid I? what ſhall I her dealing dread,

No no, I know ſhe will not ſhrinke aſide,

From reaſons rule, at any time or tide,

But render me my due deſerued hyre,

Which is the ſomme of all my whole deſyre.

Who ſerues, deſerues, his recompence to haue,

Who truely loues, ought to be loude againe,

Whoſe greefes are great, muſt needes a medicine craue,

Or elſe permit himſelfe to pine in paine,

Let me deare dame my guerdon then obtaine,

And doe not now in lew of laſting loue,

with deepe diſdaine, my raſh attempt reproue.

Finis.

Certaine Verſes written in commendation of the Nut cornell.

AS late for my delight,

when dumpes oppreſt my minde,

I walkte abrode the pleaſaunt fieldes,

in hope ſome helpe to fynde,

By chaunce I lighted then,

Upon a huge great wood,

whereas in rankes right goodly trees,

of ſundry ſortes there ſtoode,

There were of large and lofty Okes,

great ſtore in euery place,

Of Aſpe and Elme, with byrche and Boxe,

where euer I did trace.

[Page] There was great ſtore of Holly to,

of willow aſp and ew,

And all the ground was clad with flowers,

of ſundry ſent and hue.

Amongeſt the reſt of Philberts fayre,

was plenty euery where,

And euery thing that hart could wiſh,

a man might find it there,

Then from this Philbert tree I pluct,

A cluſter that were clong,

Togither faſt in ſeemely ſort,

as on the tree they hung,

And when I had them in my hand,

not knowing how to vſe them,

I was at laſt by reaſon taught,

betwirt my teeth to bruſe them,

which hauing done I found therein,

A Cornell fayre encloſde,

which for to be of pleaſaunt taſt,

I alſo then ſuppoſde.

And found it ſo, for in my life,

I neuer taſted thing,

More pleaſaunt then the Cornell was,

which from that tree did ſpring,

The Philbert Cornel is a diſh,

for any Princes meete,

And they that of the ſame will taſt,

ſhall find it wondrous ſweete.

Aboue all other kinds of fruite,

the philbert in my minde,

Doth ſeeme moſt pleaſaunt in the taſt,

as they that proue ſhall find,

Such vertue in this cornel is,

that I haue heard men ſay,

Phiſitions vſe it many times,

their patientes paines to ſtay,

[Page] For many thinges this cornel is,

commodious yet beſide:

As they can witneſſe wondrous well,

that haue the vertue tryde.

And therefore as I did begin,

euen ſo I will not miſſe,

To ſay that of all fruict the beſt,

the Philbert cornel is.

Finis.

A Louer hauing long concealed his loue, at the laſtre. [...]uealeth it, and craueth fauour at the handes, of his beloued miſtres.

OFt haue I ſeene in others, and ſometime proued it in my ſelfe, that want of audacity, and feare of repulſe, hath broughte manye cares into the minde, and greeuous thoughtes into the head. which being reueled and manifeſted to the cauſer thereof, the party greeued hath fed on ioy, wholye bathed in pleaſure, and receiued worthy conſolation, wherefore calling to remembraunce this ſaying of Seneca, that hee whiche feares, and ſuffers opportunity to ſlip, when hee knoweth the wight that can cure him, may wel be accompted a wilfull deſtroyer of himſelf.

Expulſing feare, I haue at the laſt aduentured to craue a remedy at your handes, on whome my helpe wholy dependeth, whoſe wiſedome and curteſy being ſuche as can eaſily by outward Ieſtures, perceiue the inward meaning of the mind, and by ſecrete ſignes and priuy practiſes, ſoone perceiue where good will and affection is fixed. It were ſuperfluous to vſe anye large diſcourſe in declaring what great loue I beare vnto you, whiche by howmuche it is of longer continuaunce, by ſo much is it more extreame, and my tormentes thereby the more intollerable. For as fyre the longer it lyeth couered, the more forcible it is, when it [Page] burſteth out, and harder to be quenched, ſo loue the longer it is lodged in any man, and conceled, the more vehement it is, and more difficult to be ſuppreſſed. Seeing then that my lyfe being onely ſuſtayned by the fauour of your deuinegraces, cannot be maintained one onely minute of an hower, without the liberall helpe of your ſweeteneſſe and vertue, I beſeech you, (if the harty prayers of any mortall tormented man, may euer haue force and power to mooue you to pitty) that it may pleaſe you of your rare clemencye and accuſtomed courteſy, with the dew of grace proceeding from your ſeemely ſelfe, to redeeme from henceforth youre ſeruauntes moſte miſerable and afflicted mind from death or martirdome, by reaping the fruite of his vnfayned affection, as his heartchieflye deſyreth.

A Louer whoſe friend for his ſake was frowardlye delte withal, writeth vnto her, to perſwade her with pacience, to ſuffer it for a ſeaſon.

[Page]

AS one bewrapt in waſtefull wo,

in dryry dread I ſtand,

Leaſt that my ſhippe on Rocks ſhould rend,

or perriſh in the Sand.

Leaſt bluſtring blaſtes ſhould drint my barke.

to vnacquainted ſhore,

Leaſt ſwelling waues ſhould ſoke it ſo,

as naught may it reſtore,

To former ſtate and ſtrength againe,

leaſt foes of forrein land?

ſhould make encounter with my men,

that may not long withſtand.

Or leaſt with ſong ſome Siren ſhould,

the pilate ſo allure,

As by that meanes, his loſſe and mine,

vnwiſely he procure,

A thouſand thoughtes in head do ſwarme,

which will not me permit,

Ne night nor day my reſt to take,

as nature deemes it fitte,

You are the ſhip, whoſe ſafety ſo,

my hart hath euer ſought,

you are the Barke for whoſe miſhaps,

my head with care is fraught.

Such craggy cliftes, ſuch greedy gulfes,

ſuch ſundry ſortes of Sandes,

Such daungers great, ſuch perrilous portes,

am idſt your paſſage ſtandes,

Such whirling winds, ſuch bluſtering blaſtes,

which cleane contrary blow,

[Page] Such tempeſtes ſtraunge, ſuch wallowing waues,

about you ſtill doe flowe.

Such ſyrens with their ſubtill ſonges,

allure your pilate ſtill:

I meane your mother that thereby,

ſhe ſeekes to worke you ill.

Such homebred hatefull helliſh hagges,

ſuch friendly fawning foes,

whoſe priuie mallice prickes farre worſe,

then bryre amidſt the roſe.

which breedes my bale, and to my mind,

doth dayly bring vnreſt,

For feare leaſt you by their deſpight,

ſhould be to much oppreſt,

But ſith as yet I ſee no way,

theſe euils to preuent,

with perfect pacience arme your ſelfe,

till helpe from God be ſent,

And pray to him with hart and voyce,

to further my deſyre,

which once obteind, doubt not to fynde,

ſuch reſt as you require,

And thereby be in ſuch eſtate,

as they that now deuiſe,

To worke your wo, to gaine good will,

ſhall then all meanes deuiſe,

Thus leauing now for lack of time,

a long diſcourſe to make.

I bid adue, and kiſſe this ſcroule,

that you in hand [...] take,

Hoping it ſhall as thankfully,

of you receaued be,

As I deſyre moſt willingly,

your hart from harme to free.

Finis.

An admonition to Maiſters, how they ſhould behaue themſelues towardes their ſeruauntes.

[Page]

THoſe whome we feare we cannot loue,

And whome we loue, not them we hate,

And whome we hate, we would remoue.

From former health and happy ſtate,

And trapping them in traiterous ſnare,

In ſteede of ioy inioyne them care.

Let ſuch therefore as mayſters be,

And haue the charge of many men,

To them be courtious, franke and free,

And well they ſhall be ſerued then,

Loude and obayde with faithfull hart,

As they doe merite by deſarte.

But ſuch as ſeeke by rigorous wiſe,

To be obaide and fearde of all,

Their ſeruauntes will them much deſpiſe,

And ſeeke all meanes to worke their thrall,

Although for feare they doe obay,

Thus proofe ſhewes plainely euery day.

Finis.

A yong man finding her to whome he had plighted promiſe, to be fraught with another mans fruicte, wrighteth vnto her as followeth.

ALl is not Gold that gliſtereth fayre,

Nor all thinges as it ſeemes to be,

Fayre hangings hide the duſty wall,

So doth the barke the hollow [...],

[Page] The flower that fayreſt ſeenes in ſight,

Hath not alwayes the ſweeteſt ſmel,

But time that bringes all thinges to light,

And doubtfull dread from mind expell,

Hath tryde thy treaſon and my truth,

Thy ſeeret ſlightes it doth detect.

Yea time hath now bewrayde thy w [...]iles,

Thy wauering wit, thy ſmall reſpect

To plighted vow, thy cloked craft,

Thy filthy life ſo cloſe concealde,

Thy double dealing diueliſh driftes

And [...]ild deſires it hath reuealde,

Unto my praiſe and thy reproche,

But who would looke for other gaine,

At handes of her in whome no truth

Did euer yet vouchſafe to raine,

Like as the Siren with her ſongs,

And Crocadile with dolefull cryes,

Procures the Pilat to approch.

The place where greateſt perrill lyes,

So haſt thou longled me to loue,

And like of thee aboue the reſt,

By flattering wordes by fayned vowes,

And meere good will which thou profeſt.

But wordes are wind I well perceaue,

And womens vowes are made in vaine,

Their wauering wits delight in chaunge,

And reaſon neuer rules the raine,

Excuſes now ſhall ſerue no more.

To bleare mine eyes as they haue done,

Thy filthy fact bewrayes thy lo [...]e,

For which great ſhame thou ſhalt not ſhon,

The wine another [...]ioyde,

To me the dregges thou mind [...] to leaue,

But thinke not ſo, for if thou doe,

Thou greatly doeſt thy ſelfe deceaue,

[Page] No miſtreſſe, no, to yield to that,

Be ſure ye ſhall not me compell,

I neede not one to taſt my meate,

My ſelfe can ſerue the turne full well,

Let him therefore that ſowde the ſeede,

Enioy the fr [...]e thereof ac will,

His laſt is fitteſt for thy foote,

To ro [...] thy Barge he beſt can ſkill.

Finis.

A Letter written to a yong widdowe, that was before matched with a very olde man, perſwading her to make choyſe of one whoſe yeares weare more agreeable with her owne.

MIſtreſſe, if I thought it neceſſarye for you to morne for the death of your dead Huſband, or if his lyfe had bene ſo delightfull vnto you, as his death was happy for himſelfe, (becauſe thereby he was not onelye cid of the great torments that his pore afflicted body ſuſtayned in this world, but alſo attained to a more bleſſed life in the kingdom of heauen) I wold neither blame you for wiſhīg him aliue again, or perſwade you frō lamenting his death (though I know it is nothing auayleable) but rather would exhort you thereunto, and with teares, (as an vnfayned friende) helpe you to bewayle the loſſe of ſo comfortable a Companyon. But ſeing he was old, angry, weake, impotent, and continually ſo afflicted with ſickneſſe as he was; and you ſo yong and comlye a gentle woman as you are, you haue no cauſe to lamente his loſſe, or be ſorry for his death; ſeeing it pleaſed God, by calling him to his mercy, both to releaſe him of paine, and [...]ſe yon of [...] great trouble long ſuſtained with him, and [Page] therefore I would wiſh you to ſhake of the vaine Ceremonies, that in ſuch cauſes are commonlye vſed, and frame your ſelfe againe to that bleſſed eſtate of matrimony, chaſing one, who as well in yeares as otherwiſe, may be more agreeable to your ſeemelye ſelfe, then your late huſbande, whoſe old age, was rather & corſy then a comforte to your hart, being in nothing correſpondent to your minde, or meete for your perſonage, for ſo ought euery true chriſtian woman to doe, as well for procreation of Children, as for other neceſſary commidities incident therevnto, whereof by meanes of your greater yeares, and more often excerciſe in worldly affayres, you haue better experience then I, and as you are not ignoraunt how conuenient it is to marrye and how inconuenient to leade a ſingle life, ſo am I well aſſured that you are not to learne what kind of perſon were moſt meete for you to match with all.

The Diſcommodities growing by the companye of an old man you haue already, to your paine, ouer long experimented, and therefore I doubte not, but you will beware how ye light on the like againe.

And to marry with a yong man, vnleſſe it bee one, of whoſe dem [...]anour you haue made ſome tryall, maye be as perrillous as the other, for if he be ritch, he will ouer rule you, if he be prodigall, he will waſte your ſubſtaunce, and his owne patrimony, if he be couetous, he will keepe you bare, and withhold from you that which is neceſſary to be had, if he be la [...]iu [...]u [...]he will leaue you, and like better of others: Finally, if he be viciouſly bent, how ritch or yong ſooner he be, yet were you better to be buried then matched with him.

Let n [...] them the vayne vanities of the worlde ſo allure you, or the perſwaſion of your friendes beare ſuche ſwaye with you, as you will thereby be moued to take one for his w [...] whome ye cannot loue, and to refuſe him whome ye well like of, for want o [...] [...] ▪ conſidering what incon [...] groweth by the [...], and what pro [...] may aryſ [Page] of the other, waying withall, how great an offence both to Bad and your owne conſcience it is, to do a thing ſo contracy to your own liking.

Wherefore it were beſt for you to make choyſe of ſome poore yong man, whoſe condicions and behauioure is already partly knowen vnto you to be good; with whom you may with a contented minde, leade a quiet and peaceable lyfe, and haue all thinges at your owne deſyre, without interruption.

And if I thought not my ſelfe to ſy [...]le, for one ſo worthy as you are. I would both offer my ſelfe [...] you, (not as a Huſbande, but as a Steward, to do al thinges at your direction,) and alſo hazard my lyfe to obtain ſuch fauour at your handes, aſſuring you, that if it might ſo pleaſe you, to accept of me, you ſhould of a pore friend, finde mee ſo faithfull, ſo conformable to your will, ſo carefull for your welfare, ſo redy to pleaſe you, and ſo loth to offend you, as you ſhall not haue cauſe eyther to thinke your loue euill imploted, or repent you of the election of ſo baſe a perſonage.

And although in byrth I be farre inferiour, and in wealth nothing comparable vnto thoſe that I knowe you maye haue, if you pleaſe, yet dare I thus much vaunt of my ſelfe, that there is not in the whole worlde, any one that woulde more loue, eſteeme, and cheriſh you, then I would do, if my hap might be ſo good to inioy you.

And if my purpoſe be not as my wordes doe pretend, and my deedes agreeable with my promiſes, I wiſhe the earth might gape and ſwallow me vp, or fyre from heauen conſume me, for I proteſt vnto you before God, from whome no ſecretes are concealed, that it is not ſo much for youre welth or liuing that I deſyre you, as for your wiſedome, curteſy, comly behauyour, and other commendable vertues that abound in you, wherefore long before youre huſbandes departure, I was ſo greatly enamoured, as if feare of your diſpleaſure, and mine owne infamie had not deteined me with the raines of reaſon, I had long ſince reuealed [Page] it vnto you. But now that time hath offred mee ſo meete opportunity, as I maye more lawfully, and wyth leſſe daunger do it, I haue preſumed though peraduenture more raſhly then beſeemeth me, yet not withoute vrgente cauſe, to manifeſt my meaning vnto you, crauing both pardon for my bold attempt and eaſemente of my ſorrowe ſo long ſuſtayned for the loue of you, which withoute yours grace or mine owne great perrill, cannot poſſible bee repreſſed, wherefore hoping of your accuſtomed clemency, to find you fauourable in the furtheraunce of my deſyre. I do wholy commit my health lyfe and liberty vnto you, whom I doe and will faithfully ſerue and obay for euer, as your moſte humble ſeruaunt.

A pretty fancy of the fynding of a Whyte, wherein is collourablely included the courſe of a Captiue Louer, in purchaſing his deſyred purpoſe.

NOt long agoe with bow in hande,

and arrowes by my ſyde:

An Archer like I went abrode,

my cunning to haue tride,

And being entred in the field,

[...] caſt mine eye a [...],

And loc a goodly gliſtering whyte,

before my face did glaunce,

Which pleaſaunt ſight did pleaſe me ſo,

as to ſuruay the ſame,

Me thought it did my hart much good,

and was my greateſt game,

Narciſſus fond did neuer ga [...],

Upon his ſhadow more,

Nor by the Image which he made,

Pigmallyon ſet ſuch ſtore.

As I did by that [...]y wbyte,

which ſo reuiude my hart,

[Page] As whilſt it was within my ſight,

I felt no paine nor ſmart.

But if I once did turne awaye

from it my dazeling eyes,

Good Lord: what cares within my breſt,

did by and by ariſe.

So that as one berefte of ſence,

as ſtill as any ſtone:

I ſtoode at laſt and could not ſturre,

But ſtared ſtill vppon,

This paſſing white, much like to thoſe,

whome worthy Perſeus made,

For to behold grim Gorgons head,

that cauſde their force to fade.

And turnde them all to ſtockes of ſtone,

for their outragious pride,

In ſeeking cauſeleſſe his decay,

whome Ioue himſelfe did guide,

Then ruſht in reaſon by and by,

in comly collours clad:

And calde alowde, to cauſe me heare,

that earſt no hearing had,

And when I was againe reuiude.

with countinaunce graue and ſad,

why ſtandſt thou ſenceleſſe thus,

beholding of the thing,

That ſtill the more thou lookeſt thereon,

the more thy paine doth ſpring.

Lookes will not ſerue, to ſwage thy greefe,

they rather cauſe thy care,

Therefore to put my wordes improofe,

ſee thou thy ſelfe prepare:

Reſort with ſpeede to pitties place,

intreate her for to wrighte,

Some piteous plaint in thy behalfe,

to ſhew thy painfull plight,

[Page] To Lady bewty, that ſhe may,

When ſhe hath tryde thy truth,

Receiue thee as her ſeruaunt iuſt,

and on thy wo haue ruth,

Then teaching me which way I ſhould,

the path to pitty finde,

And how I might in eche reſpect,

declare to her my minde.

She went her way I know not how,

but I to gaine releefe:

And purchaſe that which was in deede,

my ioy and comfort cheefe.

Did euery thing as ſhe had wild,

and when I had obtainde,

At pitties hand my bill of plaint,

Straight wayes my ſteppes I ſtraind,

To bewties bower and there ariude,

and knocking at the gate,

Straight ſtarted out an ongly wighte,

whoſe hart did harbour hate.

He aſked me what was my will,

and why I did reſorte

Unto that place, to whome in breefe,

I made a true reporte

Of all my ſtate, and why I came,

which done he ſayde to me.

Alas pore Lad thou arte vnwiſe,

and voyde of ſkill I ſee:

what thinkeſt thou heare to purchaſe eaſe,

no no thou art deceaude,

Therefore depart, or elſe be ſure,

thy wo will ſoone be weaude,

My miſtreſſe ſhe to lofty lookes,

to lende an eare to thee,

She will not harken to thy ſut [...],

but if thou earneſt be,

[Page] And moue her minde with many wordes,

in Dungion deepe be ſure

Thou ſhalt be caſt, and during lyfe,

with daunger there indure,

where ſadneſſe ſhall aſſayle thee ſtill,

and ſorrow ſeeke to ſhare

Thy vitall thread, yet ſhalt thou liue,

and leade thy lyfe in care.

So long as deſtinies doe permit,

beware therefore I ſay,

Take heede in tyme, turne backe againe,

and ſeeke ſome ſurer way.

Theſe wordes did fill my hart with feare,

and made me doubt to doe

The thing which comfort did commaund,

and fancy forſt me to.

And had not hope bene hard at hande,

to harte [...] me herein:

Diſpayre had put me from that place,

ſuch force his wordes did winne:

And in this ſort ſayde Hope to me,

Fond foole why doeſt thou flye,

The pleaſaunt plot wherein thy reſt,

and happy health doth lye.

Retourne againe, and feare thou nought,

thy practiſe put in proofe,

To Lady Bewty moue thy ſete,

as beſt for thy behoofe.

For ſuch her gracious goodneſſe is,

as neuer will ſhe bide,

That any ſuffer bale for ought,

but that when time hath tryde,

His true intent ſhe will vouchſafe,

to him his hartes deſyre

In eache reſpect, aſſure thy ſelfe,

then hope for happy hyre,

[Page] I gaue her thankes for good aduice,

and ſayd I would obay:

Wherewith ſhe brought me to deſyre,

who made no longer ſtay.

But led me vnto Bewties bower,

and bad me there attend:

Till ſhe with all her traine came ſorth,

and meekely then to bende

My knee, in offering vp the bill,

vnto her gracious hande,

Deſyring her to view the ſame,

my mynde to vnderſtande.

Which I obſerude in eache reſpect,

my bill ſhe doth detaine,

God graunt it worke ſo good effect,

as I ſome hope may gaine.

To purchaſe that which pleaſeth me,

much more then all the Golde

That Midas or King Croſſus had,

my ioyes might not be tolde,

If I inioyde that Iewell rars,

That pearle, that precious whyfe,

Which though it clad my corpes with care,

doth yeeld me great delight,

And if Dame bewties curteſy,

commit the ſame to me,

How much I would accoumpte thereof,

ſhe would perceiue and ſee,

As Diamond deare I would it ſet,

in collour of my hart,

And keepe it ſtill with buſy care,

till death doe cleane conuert,

My corpes to clay from whence it came,

and leaue me voyde of lyfe,

Ye heauenly powers then graunt it me,

to make my ioyes more ryfe.

How Altamenes hauing vnwares ſlaine his owne Father Cartareus died for ſorrow, when he had knowledge thereof.

[Page]

IN Crete which now we Candie call

a fertill fruitfull Land,

One cartareus ſometime raignde,

and Septure bare in band.

Who had to ſonne a noble youth,

a ſtoute and vallyaunt knight,

In prowes proude to haue no peere,

and Altamenes highte

This yong mans name, who being then

deſirous for to know

What deſtiny ſhould to him betide,

the Oracle did ſhow.

That he ſhould cauſe his fathers death,

which ſentence when he heard,

Deſyrous for to ſhun the ſame,

with ſpeede himſelfe preparde

To go and dwell at Camiros,

which towne in Rodes doth ſtand,

But that which God pretended hath,

no Creature may withſtande:

For after in a little ſpace,

Cartareus for to ſee,

His ſonne deſyring very muche,

ſuch luckleſſe lotte had hee,

That he by might at Camiros,

ariued on this ſorte;

But with the there inhabitauntes,

as wrighters doe reporte,

His men then falling at debate,

whereby a tumult roſe,

[Page] In which was Altamenes then,

to cauſe his treble woes,

And ſiue his Father vnawares,

which when he vnderſtoode,

A ſhamed ſore, and halfe diſmayde,

he went with heauy moode.

To wander in the wilderneſſe,

and daungerous deſertes wide,

Where after many pittious plaintes,

at laſt for dole he dide.

Finis.

The Authour writeth this in commendation of his miſtreſſe.

YOu Ladyes now leaue of your ſtrife,

For Golden fruicte without delay,

And thou that art Vulcanus wife,

reſigne the ſame with ſpeede I ſay,

To miſtreſſe mine, that doth deſerue,

for to poſſeſſe the ſame by right,

From this my heſt ſeeme not to ſwetue,

Leaſt thou be forſt in open ſight

Perforce to yeeld it vnto her,

and ſo be put to open ſhame,

Let not thy God head make thee erre,

If thou wilt ſhun all blot and blame,

It is not all thy glory great,

Nor yet thy ſoune Cupido he,

That makes thee ſo with pryde repleaſe,

Or elſe thy fathers high degree,

That may my miſtreſſe once diſtaine

In any point, who doth thee paſſe

As farre as Golde doth copper plaine,

Or perfect Emrod brittle glaſſe.

[Page] As farre as Phebus doth ſurmount,

The ſtarre that lendes leaſt light of all,

Aboue thy reache then doe not mount,

Leaſt thou receaue the greater fall,

To her good Griſell may giue place,

Though great her pacicnce were in deede,

And conſtant Conſtance in like caſe,

For Conſtance doth them both exceede,

Her name and deedes ſo well agree,

That they doe varry in no thing,

In ſooth it is a ioye to ſee,

The vertues that from her doe ſpring,

I know when ſhe meete time ſhall ſee,

On any one to fyxe her harte,

She will like chaſte penelope,

Continue his till life depart,

That flattering wordes or fyled phraſe,

Or golden giftes, or greedy gaine,

Her conſtant mind ſhall neuer craſe,

Or make her chaunge her former frame,

That vallyaunt deedes done for her ſake,

Nor fetured for me, nor fine deuice,

Shall cauſe her flye from choſen make.

Or to fond folly her intice,

That neither Fortune good nor bad,

Nor ſtore of wealth nor wofull wante,

Nor ſmyling cheare, nor countinaunce ſad,

Nor abſence ſhall obliuion plance.

That neither threats nor lowring lookes,

Nor dread of daunger ſhall her draw,

From him whom fyrſt for friend ſhee takes,

No man may keepe her ſo in awe,

No greefe can gripe her hart ſo ſore,

No paine can pinche her ſo, that ſhe

Will leaue her faithfull friend therefore,

How haſe of byrth ſo eare he be▪

[Page] Though this I haue not yet ſeene proude,

I am right ſure it will be ſo,

For neuer ſaw I her mindemoude,

With trifling tales for friend nor for,

That ſhe would take in hande the thing.

Which was contrary cleane to right,

but euen as vnder vertues wing,

She had bine trainde, ſhe ſeemes in ſight,

Thriſe happy therefore ſhall he bee,

Whoſe happe ſhall be ſo good to get,

This precious Iewell franke and free,

That will by him ſo highly ſet.

And will not any tyme neglect,

The duty of a louing wife,

but pleaſe hir minde in eche reſpecte,

Still ſtudying to inlarge his lyfe.

And bleſt am I aboue the reſt,

That haue obtainde to be her man,

who purpoſe ſtill to doe my [...]ett,

To pleaſe her mind in all I can

Finis.

An Exhortation to Pacience.

VVHen griping ge [...]efes do greeue the minde,

The niceteſt meanes that men may finde,

which God and nature hath aſſignde,

Is pacience well applyde:

For pacience puts all paine to flight,

Yea pacience makes the hart delight,

And doth reuiue eche dulled ſpright,

by reaſons rule and guyde.

For euery ſore, a ſalue it is.

It turnes all bitter bale to bliſſe,

And he that hath it, ſhall not miſſe.

[Page]

To taſt of heauenly ioyes.

Through it the miſer likes his lyfe,

Through it he bydes his brawling wife,

Through it he flies all hate and ſtryfe,

And nothing him anoyes.

Through it he ſuffers falſe reports,

And loathes to liue in lawleſſe Courtes,

Yea patience dayly him exhortes,

To hold himſelfe content:

And though his happe be good or ill,

Yet being armde with patience ſtill.

No euill once he ſhall fulfill,

But be to betrue bent.

Therefore for paclence let vs pray,

To driue all drowſy dumpes away,

That euery hower doth vs anndy,

Through froward frowning fate,

For [...]ext we are on euery ſyde,

Not knowing ſafely where to [...]yde,

And therefore lacke ſo good a guyde,

To better our eſtate.

God graunt vs euer of his grace,

That perfect pacience to imbrace,

We may be moude in euery caſe,

And flye all [...]utious yre.

Let pacience put vs ſtill in mynde,

And make vs hope good hap to fynde,

when moſte with cares we are combynde,

To kindle good deſyre.

Finis.

A Louer writing to his choſen friend, who for his ſake ſuſteyned much ſorrow, exhorteth her to continue conſtant, and paciently to tollerate her preſent aduerſity in hope that better happes will inſue.

[Page]

MIne owne good Pamena, when on the one ſyde I conſyder with my ſelfe, thy incomparable curteſy, in requiting my faith full and vnfained affection with the lyke, and graunting me principall poſſeſſion of thy harte, and on the other ſide remembring the ſorrow thou ſuſtaineſt, through ye vnnatural dealing of ſuch, as vnder ſhew of friendſhip, intende nothing but fraude.

And therewithall waying my vnhabillity at this preſent, which will not ſerue to prouide for thee as I would, my ioy, for inioying thee that arte my onelye ſalace is not halfe ſo great, as my grefes are greeuous for the ſorrowe thou ſuſtaineſt, but for as much as paciēce as Cicero ſaith, is ſuch a vertue as it comforteth the heauye, reioyceth the ſad, contenteth the pore, helpeth the ſick, eaſeth the paynefull, and hurteth none, but helpeth all, I exhort you to imbrace it, and to the vttermoſt of your power to vſe it, comforting your ſelf in this callamitie, with aſſured hope, that after theſe harde happes, will follow a more bliſſeful and quiet eſtate, conſidering the mutabillitie of Fortune to be ſuch, that ſhe neuer ſtandeth long at one ſtay, but as after a moſte terrible ſtorme, alwaies inſueth a more pleaſaunt calme, ſo ſhe ſeeming moſt extreme, will on the ſodaine waxe moſte fauourable, as appeareth by the Example of one Adulatia Daughter to Otho, the thyrde Emperour of that name, who firing [...] fancy vpon one Aleran, a Gentleman of ſmall accoumpte, and the yongeſt of all the bretheren [Page] of the Duke of Saxony, who lykewiſe loued her intyrely, lefte her father, friendes and countrey, for his ſake, and wandring with him, vnto whome ſhe wholy committed her ſelfe, into places vnknown, and in the way as they fled, being taken and ſpoyled by theeues, and robbers, and afterwardes forced for extreame neede, to make coles, and ſell them for their owne ſuſtenaunce, pacientlye ſuffering that miſerable aduerſity, and comforting themſelues with hope of better happe in time to come, in the ende by Gods prouidence, and the vallyaunce of their yong Sonue, who by that meanes was made known to his Grandfather Otho, they were remoued from that miſerable eſtate, aduanced to high dignity, and made beyres to the Empyre.

By this worthy Example, it appeareth howe carefull God is for the preſeruation of thoſe, that paciently ſuffering aduerſity, doe put their whole truſt and confidence in him, nothing at all diſpayring of his mercy, but hoping by his onely meanes to be deliuered from all their callamity, which hope he will not leaue fruſtrate, and though he ſuffer them for a ſeaſon ſo to be a fllieted, yet will he not giue them ouer, but in the end, when they leaſt looke for it, will to their great ioy and comfort, bring them to a more happy and bliſſefull ſtate, as he did the good Earle of Engers, and in any other that paciently ſuffered the Croſſe that god had layde vpon them, and repoſed their whole truſt in his mercy, which neuer fayleth the faithfull.

By this Hiſtorye of Adulatia wee are alſo admoniſhed faithfully to loue, when promiſe is plighted, and neither for pleaſure nor paine, for ioye nor anoy, for welth nor wo, for force nor feare, for fraude nor flattery, for friend nor foe in proſperitie or aduerſitie, to alter our fyrſte fyrme and faithfull determination, or forſake whome wee haue once choſen, ſo long as life laſteth, but conſtantlye to continue, and faithfully to perſeuer in the ſame ſo ſhal God bleſſe vs and proſper all our doinges, and after the miſtes of miſery if any happen to aſſaile vs, bring vs to the cleare lighte of [Page] felicitye as he did fayre Adulatia, who neither for fearro [...] fathers diſpleaſure, or care to continue his good will, for loue of Imperiall dignity, or dread of any daunger, no, not for the fierce aſſaults of froward Fortune, or for any other cauſe would forſake her Aleran, but preferring his loyall loue, before all worldly pleaſure, and his preſents before al princely Ornamentes, both in health and ſickneſſe; in wealth and woe, and fynally at all aſſayes continued hys true and faithfull companion, for tearme of lyfe. Be fyrme therefore my good Parmena, and fayle not, but as I intend ſtil to continue as loyal a louer to thee, as euer was Aleran to his Adulatia, ſo be thou as faithful a friend vnto me, as was Adulatia to her beloued Aloran. So ſhall no emnity but am [...] no repentance but contenentment, no [...]ing, but ioy be euer betweene vs, and though one friendes frown vpon vs, or hindred contemne vs, and our Parentes reproue vs, yet through patient [...], in trace of time which breedeth chaunge in all thinges, we ſhall by Codes helpe, and our owne dilligent iudultrye, recouer all former good will and fauour, and after all the aſſaul [...] of aduerſe Fortune, attaine to the happy porte of reſt and tranquillity, with which hope I purpoſe alwayes to comfort my ſelfe, wiſhing you alſo to doe the like, as I [...] you will, and hartily require you to doe, ſo neare as you can as well for your owne releefe, as for the reſt and comforte of him that loueth you, no leſſe then his owne proper lyfe, Fare you well.

Finis.

The Aucthour wrighting to a friend of his, that was toward mariage, exhorteth her to make choyſe of a wyſe and verteous perſon.

[Page]

THere is nothing wherein we ought to take,

So great aduiſe, as ſayeth [...] wiſe,

As when we mind a mariage for to make,

wherein we muſt be carefull and preſiſe,

Or elſe thereby great perrill may aryſe,

Becauſe the knot once [...] in [...] doe,

May not be broke, whateuer chaunce in ſue.

But ſome there are, that will without reſpect

Of future harmes that may to them befall,

The councell of their aged friendes reiect,

As frantick wightes, to foliſh fancy thrall

And harkening to the S [...] ſ [...] the call,

Procure thereby, their [...] and decay,

Where elſe they might haue liude in laſting [...].

Yet would I not that women ſo attend,

To friendes aduice, or ſo by them be led,,

That fancy fixe vppon ſome faythfull friend,

They ſhould forſake the ſame for feare or dread.

For ſo they may wone bring a foole to bed,

And being linckt, to one they cannot leeke,

be moude amiſſe reuengement due to ſeeke.

Some ſortes there are, that welthy huſbandes chuſe,

Becauſe they ſhould maintaine thomſine and braue,

Some ſortes there are, that others all refuſe,

A comely wight deſyring moſt to haue,

A vallyaunt venter [...]ns youth ſome [...],

Some like of thoſe that be moſt franke and free,

[Page] And ſome of thoſe that harde and ſparing be.

The gallant gay ſome chiefely doe eſteeme,

In one that curteous is, ſome moſte delight,

A cunning craftes man, ſome for beſt do deeme,

But few or none eſteeme the vertuous wight,

By wiſe and prudent men they ſet but light,

Few linke for loue, but all for greedy gaine,

Though in the ende it tourne them moſt to paine.

Bewty doth fade, when crooked age creepes in,

And like a Flower the ſommer ſeaſon paſt,

Nipt with the cold when winter doth begin,

Doth wither ſoone, and weare a way at laſt,

And ſickneſſe makes the mighty man agaſt,

And takes from him all ſtrength and courage quighte,

But vertue ſtill abides in perfect plight.

In welth or wo in paine or pleaſure ſtill,

Uertue remaines without reprofe at all,

Not dreadfull death that doth the Carcas kill,

The power of vertue may in ought appall.

It liues with praiſe; and neuer perriſh ſhall,

For after death his glory reflech riſe,

That whilſt he liude, did leade a vertuous life.

Therefore my friend I friendly thee aduiſe,

To match with one that is to vertue bent,

For bewty brittle is and of no priſe,

Money but muck, and quickly will be ſpent,

Strength ſoone deſtroyde, if ſickneſſe ſo conſent,

But vertue ſtill in perfect ſtate doth ſtand,

It keepes his courſe as well by Sea as land.

Moreouer I would wiſh thee for to make,

Thy choyſe thy ſelfe whereas thou likeſt beſt,

[Page] And though thy friendes perſwade thee for to take,

Some other wight with greater wealth poſſeſt.

Yet if thy mind and fancy be not preſt,

To like of him, then would I thee aduiſe,

To leaue that loathſome lot if thou be wiſe.

For whereas loue doth lack, twice man and wife,

There harred needes muſt harbour in their hart,

Where hatred hath his holde, is endleſſe ſtrife,

where ſtryfe is ſtyrde, there pleaſure hath no part,

where pleaſure is diſplaſte; eare keepes the marte,

where care doth keepe, lyfe cannot long indure,

Then eare thou linke let loue be ſetled ſure.

Finis.

Of the great patience and clemency of King Antigonus.

WHen as Antigonus did heare,

His Souldiers curſing him apace,

Becauſe that in an euening darke,

He led them through a myry place,

That thence they hardly could eſcape,

He came himſelfe to them vnknowne,

And very well did helpe them out,

which friendſhip when he had them ſhowne,

He ſayd now curſe Antigonus,

That led you lately in the myre,

But pray for him that helpt you out,

Acording to your hartes deſyre.

Finis.

What miſery and miſfortunes mankinde is continually ſubiecte vnto.

[Page]

WHat kinde of ſtate can any chooſe,

but he there in ſhall fynde,

Great bitterneſſe and endleſſe woe,

to mooue his troubled minde,

In field much toyle, at home great care,

and feare in Forrein Lande:

If ought, we haue, by fortune lent.

In youth Dome Follyes hande

Doth hold vs faſt, her ſhe imbrace,

and wiſedomes lore do leaue,

In age doth ſickeſſe vs aſſayle,

and ſo our ſtrength bereaue.

In marry age is vnquietneſſe,

in lacking of a wife

All ſollitary we remaine,

and leade a loathſome lyfe.

If God to vs doe children ſende,

we haue continuall care.

If none, then are we halfe diſmayde,

farre worſer doe we fare.

Therefore one of theſe twaine is beſt,

deſyred for to be:

Not to be borne; or elſe to dye,

before theſe dayes we ſee.

Finis.

A louer hauing long concealed his loue, at the laſt reuealeth it and craueth grace at the handes of his beloued miſtreſſe.

LIke as the ſilly ſoule,

That feeles himſelf diſtreſt,

[Page] With heauy burthen on his backe,

doth ſeeke to be at reſt.

So I whome loue longtyme,

hath led in Captiue handes,

Enforced am at laſt to ſue

for fauour at thy handes,

That haſt my hart in holde,

who onely mayſt apply,

Some pleaſaunt potion to a ſ [...]wage

the greeuous mallady,

Which long with little eaſe,

and moſt inceſſaunt greefe.

Hath me conſerude, twixt life and death,

denoyde of all releefe.

But needes I muſt confeſſe,

There is no fault in thee:

That I doe want my wiſhed will,

the blame doth bide in mee.

For feare, Loues mortall foe,

which cauſed me to hyde

My ſecrete ſorrowes long ſuſtainde,

from thee in whome doth byde,

The cure of all my care,

hath made me faile to finde,

The thing that moſt might ioy my harte,

and eaſe my troubled minde.

But now all feare expulſt,

Loue, hope; and hote deſyre,

Hath forced me in lew of paine,

to craue deſerued hyre.

Which gwerdon either graunt,

elſe ſhalt then ſhortly ſee,

That life will leaue my leathſome corpes,

and all by meanes of thee,

Which loth I am ſhould chaunce,

leaſt to thy great reproch,

[Page] It blazed be, that thou art ſhe,

that ſet my bale abroche,

Take pitty on my payne,

peruſe my dolefull vearſe.

Let trickling teares and ſecret ſighes,

into thy intrailes pearce.

Oh rue my rufull ſtate,

my youthfull yeares reſpect,

And let the tormentes I ſuſtaine,

enforce thee to reiect

All retchleſſe rigour, take, imbrace,

loue; like, and neuer leaue,

The wight that will in ſpight of ſpight,

to thee for euer cleaue,

Who heare in lew of loue,

doth vow himſelfe to thee,

Thy ſlaue, thy ſeruaunt, and thy friend,

till dying day to be.

Finis.

Certaine verſes written in commendation of the Roſe.

AS ſundry ſortes of men in world there be,

So ſundry mindes in them alſo remayne,

And in one point they ſieldome do agree,

That one thinkes good, another thinketh vayne,

That one deſyres, another doth diſdayne,

And I that doe in Flowers great pleaſure take,,

Deſyre the Roſe, my noſegay ſweete to make.

The vallyaunt man doth moſt delight in warre,

The coward craues to liue at home in peace,

Thaſtronomer to view eche twinkling ſtarres,

The couetous carle his ſubſtaunce to increaſe,

[Page] The priſoner pore doth couet moſt releaſe.

But I that doe in Flowers great pleaſure take,

Deſyre the Roſe my noſegay ſweete to make.

The huſbaudman full barnes deſyre to haue,

The Faulkener doth in Faulcon moſt delight,

The Hunter be good houndes doth chiefely craue,

The mighty man reioiceth in his might,

The amorous Daine to ſhew her hewry bright,

But I that doe in Flowers great pleaſure take,

Deſyre the Roſe my Noſegay ſweete to make.

The pretty collour I commend.

Though in the ſame no ſweeteneſſe reſtes at all.

From Baſill doth a ſauour ſweete aſſend,

yet doth the ſame the ſences ſore appall.

The appetite is marred much withall.

Therefore doe I, in Flowers that pleaſure take,

Deſyre the Roſe my Noſegay ſweete to make.

Diſtild it makes a water wondrous ſweete,

Of vertue great, and good for many thinges,

The oyle thereof, full many thinke more meete,

Becauſe much caſe in them it often bringes,

The Flower is worne of Ladyes Lordes and Kinges,

And I that doe in Flowers great pleaſure take,

Deſyre the Roſe my Noſegay ſweete to make.

From point to point, to praiſe this pleaſaunt Flower

And yeeld it that it doth deſerue by right,

For learnings lacke it lyes not in my power,

Therefore to them that better can indighte,

I leaue the ſame to put in perfect plight,

But ſtill I will in Flowers that pleaſure take,

Deſyre the Roſe my noſegay ſweete to make,

Finis.

The Louer after long abſence hauing onewed his loue, by beholding the bewty of his beloued miſtreſſe, ſueth vnto her for grace, for the appeaſing of his paſſyons.

[Page]

VVHether it were by my good of euil aduenture, that of late I beheld ye, I know not, but ſurely at the ſame time; I did ſo contemplate the rare bewtye and other excellent Ornamentes of nature. Where with you are moſt plentifully inriched, as euer ſince I haue [...] in my ſelfe, ſo cruell and continuall a Combate, as I feare me withoute your ſpeciall grace and fauour, for furtheraunce of my ſeruent deſyre, I ſhall not be able long to continue; loue on the one ſyde aſſayleth me, Reaſon on the other ſyde inuadeth me, Hope pricketh me forward, and feare pulleth mee back from attempting that whiche maye eyther reaue my lyfe, or reſtore my libertye, according to the good or euill ſucceſſe that it hath.

But loue at the laſt vanquiſhing reaſon, and hope abandoning feare, the rather by meanes of the good intertemment, friendly fauiiliarity and vndeſerued curteſy, which I haue hither to found in you, I am the more imboldned by theſe few lynes, to make you priuy to y• paſſions, which I continually ſuffer for your ſake, thereby to caſe my mind of the greefes that grow by concealing it, and to purchaſe remedy for the greeuons mallady that putteth me to ſuche importable paine, which being only in you to graunte, I hope you will not be ſo cruell harted as to denaye it mee. For as my loue towardes you, farre excelleth all others, and as my faithfull ſeruice, and true intent deſerueth better recompence, then a raſhe and rigorous refuſall. So am I fully perſwaded to fynd your pittifull hart ready to rue my calamities, and with the balme of your beneuolence, faluing the ſore that ſo afflicieth mee, render mee a recomdence worthe my deſeruing, wherein referring my ſelfe [Page] wholy to your clemency I leaue to trouble you any further for this time.

Of a Souldyer who for couirouſneſſe of a little money, loſt his owne lyfe.

WHen Preneſt had bine long beſiegne,

by enemyes ſtrength:

With hunger and thyrſt they were full ſore,

oppreſt at length,

That many a one for lack of foode,

was forſt to dye.

Amongſt which ſort there then was one,

did lykewiſe lye,

As did the reſt in extreame payne,

vntillhe caught,

A little Mouſe, which one of him,

for money bought.

A hundred pence he more eſteemde,

then lyfe to ſaue,

Although long time the vſe thereof.

he might not haue.

So conitons was this myſers mynde,

of worldly muck,

That when he might haue ſaude his lyfe,

ſuch was his luck,

For loue of money he loſt the ſame,

but was not he,

Requited with a iuſt rewarde,

as he ſhould be.

Finis.

The complaint of one Sidaſpo, who was imflamed with loue through the bewty of his ſeruaunt Aletha.

[Page]

OL [...]thſome lyfe, oh [...]ning fate,

Oh Fortune moſt vnkinde,

Oh death come pierce my painefull breſt,

to eaſe my troubled minde.

Oh loue, nay luſt, oh foude deſyre,

oh curſed blinded boye,

What meanſt thou thus to worke my w [...],

and breede my great annoy,

I burne alas continually,

in ſuch erceſſiue heate,

That nothing may therewith compare.

it ſemes to me ſo great,

More hote it is a thouſand times,

then Lothſome Limbo lake,

Or Aetna hill, whoſe flaſhing flames,

no thing hath power to ſlake,

And yet ſome time more cold then yee.

I am pore wretch againe,

Then by and by aboundantly.

the raging herte doth raine,

Whereas I was a mayſter late,

and had ech thing at will,

Now muſt I ſerue as ſeruill ſlaue,

to pleaſe my ſeruaunt ſtill,

What remedy, it boteth not

for me at all to ſtriue,

Againſt the mighty power of loue,

or any man aliue,

The Prince for all his Princely power,

cannot his force withſtand.

[Page] The valyaunteſt wight that euer liude,

durſt not hold vp his hand,

Againſt Cupido for to ſtriue,

or combat for to make,

The wiſeſt can not ſhun his wiles.

he cauſeth all to quake,

yea euen the Gods themſelues I fynde,

doe reſt at Cupids grace,

And be but Subiectes vnto him,

in euery kinde of caſe,

Then how ſhould I amortall man,

deuiſe to ſhunne the ſame,

Now dare I once reſi [...] the wight

that euery thing can tame.

Aletha oh my darling deare,

thou thou a lone art ſhe,

which ſo haſt laid thy ſnares abroade,

for to intangle me.

Thou art the dame that I deſyre,

to ſerue and honour ſtill,

Thou art the iewell of my ioy,

thou maiſt me ſaue or ſpill.

But ſtay: what wordes be theſe I ſpeake,

ſhall I become a ſlaue,

And bondman to my ſeruaunt ſo,

her fauour ſhall I craue,

That ſhould by reaſon ſtill remaine,

at my deſyre and will,

To doe the thing that I commaund,

though it be good or ill.

No no I rather fyrſt will chooſe,

vnto the naked knyfe

My throte to yield, that ſo I might,

bereaue my lothſome lyfe,

What if I ſhould attempt the ſame,

what if I ſhould requyre,

[Page] The ſame of her, I am not ſure,

to purchaſe my deſyre,

But why doe I miſdoubt the ſame,

before I haue it tryde,

why he that loueth feruently,

feares not to be denyde,

why ſhould I any daungers dread,

to winne ſo fayre a dame,

well hoping for to gaine ſome grace,

my letters will I frame.

In dolefull wyſe vnto my dealee,

whoſe ſplendent bewty rare,

Hath ſo inflamde my hart with loue,

and cloyde my mynde with care,

A Letter which the ſaid Sidaspo ſente to his ſeruaunt Aletha.

THy bewty braue O Aletha,

thy breſtes like driuen ſnow,

Thy Currall lippes, thy criſtall eyes,

and heare which to the ſhow,

Appeares lyke gold, thy fyngers ſmall,

with ſkinne as yuorye cleare,

And eake thy worthy quallities,

which make thee to appeare,

More lyke a Goddeſſe for to be,

then any earthly wight,

would ſure allure a ſtonye harte,

in thee to haue delight.

For as the Fowler in his net,

the ſilly byrdes doth take,

So hath the ſame intrapped me,

which makes my hart to quake,

The Adamant ſtone would neuer draw,

the yron to it more.

[Page] Then hath your bewty drawne my hart,

which makes me now deplore,

For loue of you I liue in care,

my ſorrowes doe abound,

And death will ſhortly end my dayes,

if helpe there none be found.

By you I haue receaude this harme,

which none but you can cure;

In you it reſtes to eaſe the paine,

that I doe now indure,

Therefore I craue you, ſhew ſome grace,

to cure me of my greete,

Let pittie in your hart take place,

to bring me ſome releefe,

Oh who is able to reſiſt,

the feruent force of loue,

Or who once wounded with the darte,

is able to remoue

The ſame from him, now ſurely none,

though Hectors hart he haue,

Or Hercules ſtrength it will not ſerue,

from Cupid him to ſaue.

Therefore O louing Lady deare,

howe downe thy eyes of pittie,

Conſider in thy ſkilfull braine,

that art both wiſe and wittye

What tormentes for thy ſake I byde,

which by no meanes will ceaſe.

way well how like a wretch I liue,

till thou doe me releaſe.

By graunting me my hartes deſyre,

to cure my deadly ſmart,

whereby no harme maȳ grow to thee,

but all to ioye conuart,

My lyfe my goods and all thinges elſe,

ſhall reſt at thy deſyre,

[Page] Euen as thy owne at euery time,

if thou the ſame requyre:

Let reaſon therefore O my deare,

perſwade thee for to yeelde,

To my requeſt by meanes thereof,

from ſorrowes me to ſhield,

Thus for this time I make an ende,

and wiſh thee well to fare,

In wofull wiſe, deſyring thee,

to thinke vpon my care.

Finis

The abiect Louer complaineth of the crueltye and diſdainefull lookes of his Lady.

THe moſte inceſſaunt painefull panges,

that I haue long ſuſtainde:

By ſundry meanes my feeble hande,

to write hath now conſtrainde,

Thereby to let thee vnderſtand;

oh ſtony harted Dame,

The thing that this my dolefull hart,

(to thy eternall ſhame)

Cannot conceale, and ſeeing that

thou rather ſeekſt to be,

My mortall foe, then faithfull friend,

I doe the like by thee,

If (as I am) thou were a man,

then weapons would I vſe,

For to reuenge my wrong on thee,

that doeſt me ſo abuſe,

But ſith the tongue the weapon is,

wherewith fond women fight,

My tongue and pen ſhall now ſuffice,

to worke the lyke deſpight.

[Page] Who ſtriues againſt the ſtreame I ſee,

or ſailes againſt the winde,

Or ſoweth ſeede in barren ſoyle,

but little gaine ſhall fynde,

So he that ſets his loue,

where pryde hath taken place,

ſhall ſooner catch his bitter bane,

then winne one ſparke of grace,

As I vnto my paine,

haue proude to late alas

By ſeruing thee, oh ſcornefull dame,

that nought therefore doeſt paſſe.

For when by letters I,

my meaning doe declare,

Thy aunſwere ſeemes as bitter gall,

for to increaſe my care,

When as I ſmyle, thou frowneſt,

and eake when I am ſad,

Then greatly ſeemſt thou to reioyce,

as one whoſe hart is glad,

If I doe thee ſalute

in friendly wiſe, I ſee

Thou turneſt then thy head aſyde,

and windſte away from me,

The Tyger fierce in tyme,

is made both meeke and tame.

The ſtone through often drops of raine,

that fall vpon the ſame,

Doth weare, the mountaines bye,

and ſtrongeſt holds of all,

In tyme may by ſome caſualtye,

be forſt to ground to fall,

Yea Nilus may in time,

(for all his ſcope of ſtreames)

Be dryed vp, and cleane conſumde,

through heate of Phebus beames,

[Page] There is no thing on earth I thinke,

but may in tyme conuart:

Except it be in womans breſt,

a hawty ſtubborne harte.

Which neither reaſon, gentle wordes

nor pittie can procure,

For to reuoke hir wilfull minde.

that ſetled is ſo ſure,

My wound was wondrous deepe,

the paines I did indure,

By meanes of thy great crueltie,

my ſorrowes did procure,

For thou in whome it onely lay,

to remedy the ſame,

In ſteede of ſalue didſt poyſon yielde,

my ruine for to frame,

Oh curſed wretchleſſe raſe,

of wicked woman kinde,

How can your hartes ſo cruell be,

to them that you make blynde,

what hart of flinte hath he,

who hauing hurt a man,

That is his friend, to cure his payne,

will not doe what he can.

But thou a cruell Crocadile,

Ingendred in the floode,

Of foule Onilus wilt not graunt,

to doe thy pacient good.

Few women at this day doe lyue,

that guyde themſelues ſo well,

But if one vertue good therebe,

which in their breſt doth dwell,

Two worſer vices for the ſame,

is found in them to be,

which doe the vertues cleane deface,

and force them for to flee,

[Page] They can condicions chaunge,

to cauſe their friendes vnreſt,

As the Chameleon chaungeth hue,

When as it likes him beſt,

If that they be diſpoſde,

pore louers to allure,

They can as wily wayes inuent,

their purpoſe to procure,

As the Hiena can,

by learning of the name,

And calling them whoſe preſent death,

they purpoſe for to frame,

Such pittifull complaintes,

the Sirens can not make,

As can theſe wicked women doe,

if once they vndertake,

No beaſt ſo brute as they,

if once they fall to vice,

No aſſe more fooliſh then they are,

yet doe they thinke them wiſe.

If one their bewty praiſe,

then doe they looke ſo hye,

As though they ſtraight wais would preſume

to ſcale the lofty ſkye.

Yet doe I not condemne herein,

all women to be ill,

But ſome yea euen the greateſt part,

are ſubiect to their will,

As I haue had iuſt cauſe to ſay,

who proued haue the ſame,

Through thy vnkindneſſe ſhewde come,

O moſt diſdainefull Dame,

And therefore humbly doe I craue,

of heauenly Ioue aboue.

That thou for this thy crueltye,

like greefe to myne maiſt proue,

[Page] And thus I make an ende as now,

of this my bitter vearſe,

As one compeld by womans pride,

their dealinges to rehcarſe.

Finis.

A commendation of the Cock.

WHo can ſuch worthy praiſes giue,

vnto the Cocke as he,

Deſerues to haue, now ſurely none,

for fyrſt of all we ſee,

How carefull of our healthes he is,

who leaſt we ſhould be harmde,

At midnight with his crowing oft,

doth warne vs to be armde,

And at the dawning of the day,

to lerify our minde.

He doth the lyke, and biddeth vs,

good morrow in his kinde,

Againe were not the Cock I pray,

what Poultrie ſhould we haue,

What other byrde or pleaſaunt foule,

that we ſo much doe craue,

Our dainty Dames ſhould be content

to feede on courſer fare,

If that it were not for the Cock,

that dainties doth prepare.

A commendacion of the Robin redde breſt.

VVHen Hyems with his hory froſtes,

and bluſtering Boreas blaſte,

Had runne his race, and Lady Ver,

his pleaſaunt courſe had paſt,

[Page] Then Aeſtas entred in by courſe,

and Phebus golden rates,

Whoſe ſcorching heate mild Zephirus,

aſſwagde at all aſſayes,

were ſpread abroade through euery coſte,

which cauſde eche thing to ioye,

Then was it pleaſure great to ſee,

the little Fiſhes play,

And friſcoes fetch about the bankes,

to fynde ſome pleaſaunt baite,

whiles they vnwares intangled are.

by Fiſhers foule deceite,

Then euery tree is freſh and greene,

then Flora on the ground,

Her mantell ſpreades, and fertill fieldes,

with pleaſaunt Flowers abound,

The dainty Dames from euery place,

doe thither faſt reſorte,

And Garlandes make of cropped flowers,

of ſundry ſent and ſorte,

In euery ſtreete great ſtirring is,

ſome quaſſe and make good cheare,

Some leape, ſome daunce, ſome ſing, ſome play

ſome chaſe the light foote Deare,

Here Orpheus with his pleaſaunt Harpe,

there Amphion with his Lute,

Doe make moſte pleaſaunt melodie,

and carping cares confute,

The amorous youthes doe ſtray the ſtreetes,

and with their Ladies walke.

And ſome againe doe paſſe the day,

with paſſing pleaſaunt talke,

So euery man to pleaſe his minde.

ſome paſtime doth frequent,

To driue away all drowſy dumpes.

and ſluggiſh ſloth preuent.

[Page] It chaunced ſo this time,

that as in bed I lay,

Oppreſſed ſore with painefull pangs,

about the breake of day

I ſtarted vp, and forth I walkte,

into the fieldes ſo fayre,

My ſelfe to ſolace there at will,

and take the pleaſaunt ayre,

The ground that garniſht was with flowers,

did yield ſo ſweete a ſmell,

That noyſome ſauoures none were felt,

It did them all repell,

Then paſt I forth with ſtealing ſteps,

and lookte about me round,

To take a view of euery thing,

wherein I pleaſure found,

And by and by from farre me thought,

I ſeemde a ſounde to heare,

which ſtill the further that I paſt,

more pleaſaunt did appeare,

It was ſo ſweete a melody,

that ſure I thought ſome muſe,

Or elſe ſome other heauenly wight,

did there frequent and vſe.

But as I caſt mine eye aſyde,

on braunche of willow tree,

A little Robin redbreſt then,

there ſitting did I ſee,

And he it was, and none but he,

that did ſo ſweetely ſing,

But ſure in all my life before,

I neuer harde the thing,

That did ſo much delight my hart,

or cauſde me ſo to ioye,

As did that little Robins ſong,

that there I hard that day,

[Page] That did ſo much delight my harte.

or cauſde me ſo to ioye,

As did that little Robins ſong,

that there I heard that day,

The Poets faine that Orpheus made,

both ſtones and trees to daunce,

When he vppon his Harpe did play.

They alſo doe aduaunce

So muche Arion for his ſkill,

that when into the ſeas

He ſhould be caſt they ſaid that he,

a Dolphin ſo did pleaſe,

That ſafe ſhe brought him vnto ſhore,

when death he did aſpect,

And from all perrils perrillous,

did him right well protect,

Mercurius made the hundred eyes,

of Argos all to ſleepe,

With elſying on an Oren pipe,

his knowledge was ſo deape,

Yet ſure I thinke their harmony,

might not co [...]quall be,

With that this little Robin made,

it ſo delighted me.

Nay ſure I thinke the Muſes nyue,

may not with him compare,

Nor yet Apollo for his ſkill,

whoſe muſick was ſo rare.

Full often [...] my hart doth wiſhe,

this prety byrd to haue.

For more then any worldly thing,

the ſame I ſtill doe craue.

And if my luck might be ſo good,

this Robin once to gaine.

Then greatly would my ioyes abound,

and hart ſhould feele no paine,

[Page] For neuer did I ſee the thing,

that I ſo well could leeke,

Therefore aboue all other thinges,

to haue the ſame I ſeeke,

For collour and for [...]omlineſſe,

all byrdes he doth ſurmount,

His fleſh as very delicate,

full many men accoumpt,

God graunt therefore that I may gaine,

this Robin at my will,

Then doe I hope to vſe him ſo,

that he ſhall tarry ſtill.

For rather would I loſe my lyfe,

and all thinges elſe beſyde,

Then from my Robin I woulde parte,

at any time or tide.

Finis.

The long acquainted Louer writeth to his beloued, whoſe grace he deſyred.

LIke as no fyre doth yeeld ſo great a heate,

As that which longeſt lyes in kindling this is ſure,

So can no loue ſo vehement be and great,

As that which doth the longeſt time indure,

For why the fyre that by and by doth flame,

Is ſtraight conſumde, that none may ſee the ſame.

Euen ſo the loue that on a ſodaine growes,

Doth ſtraight wayes waſte, and vaniſh as a ſhade,

As very well this auncient Prouerbe ſhowes.

Whote loue ſoone colde, and ſoone away doth fade,

But as a tonne doth ſtill the taſte retaine,

Of that which fyrſt did in the ſame remaine.

So I my deare whoſe loue in tender age,

Hath taken roote cannot the ſame ſuppreſſe,

[Page] Or elſe the greefe thereof by ſkill aſſwage,

For It I can by no meanes fynd redreſſe,

But as your thrall I reſt in w [...]full caſe,

Expecting ſtill with great deſyre ſome grace.

Oh Lady deare doe not therefore diſdaine,

The humble ſute of him that loues you beſt,

but arme your ſelfe to ſhew the lyke againe,

For otherwiſe you breede his great vnreſt,

Forget not my good will thinke on your friend,

And thus with teares my humble ſute I ende.

Finis.

Of one Vrbina a Virgin veſtall, taken in adulterye,

VRbina a Uirgin veſtall in adultry being taken,

with roddes about the cittie was whipped therefore,

And of all her friendes then being forſaken,

was buried aliue, whome none did deplore,

And of the Adulterers that did her deflower,

The one did ſtay himſelfe that preſent hower,

The other the ouerſecers of the temple then,

Cauſed to be executed in the market place,

That he might be a warning to all other men,

To teach them the path of vertue to trace.

Finis.

Of one Cianippus, who in his dronkenneſſe deflowred his owue daughter ciane.

OF Siracuſe cianip

Behauſe that he did offer,

His Sacrifiſe to all the Gods,

and none to Bachus proffer,

was ſtroke with ſuch a drunckenneſſe,

that meeting in the darke,

His Daughter Ciane, her deflourde,

but what did follow marke,

[Page] She to the end to vnderſtand,

and know who did the deede,

From of his finger p [...] his ring,

whereby ſhe ſaw with ſpéede,

That it had bene her Father deare,

and after when the Citty,

was plagued all for this foule facte,

and that by ſentence wittie,

Of th' oracle it wined was,

the Authour of the act,

For to be ſacrifiſed vp,

for this foule fylthy fact,

whereas none knew who it ſhould be,

or what did cauſe the ſame,

Ciane with afflitted minde,

remembring it die frame,

Her Fathers death, who being dead

herſelfe ſhe alſo [...],

And on his corpes her corpes ſhe [...],

for euery man to view.

Finis.

Of one Ceſelius Baſſus a Carthagenian, who deceiued the Emperour Nero.

CEſelius Baſſus on a time,

vnto king Nero tolde,

That in a Lane within his ground,

was hid great heapes of Golde,

which he (he ſayd) ſuppoſde. to be,

of Didos hiding there,

Unto which wordes he credite gaue,

and from that place to beare,

The ſame, he did full many ſend,

the Orators in meane ſpace,

[Page] [...]ded Nero ſaying that,

he ſtoode in fortunes grace,

And that he was of all the Gods,

beloude and fauourde moſt,

within whoſe time ſuch welth was found,

That had ſo long bene loſt,

And hidden in the bo [...]le of

the earth full many a day,

Wherefore in hope of new found Wealth,

this Emperour made away,

The ſtore he had but in the end

when they were at the place,

whereas thi [...] ſhould [...],

[...]lius ma [...] them trace,

From this to that place vp and downe,

to ſeeke the foreſaid [...]aue,

And myners many one did ſeeke,

by [...] the ſame to haue,

If any there ſhould hidden lye,

but laboured all in waine,

He ſaid ſorte ſprite had him dertaude,,

and did a furie fayrte,

But to auoyde the preſent teare,

and ſh [...] that ſhould ariſe,

He ſlow himſelfe and N [...]ft,

ſtill gaping for his priſe.

Finis.

The Louer woried with long loue; taking aſſuraunce of ſuccour, enduceth his Lady to receiue [...] to her ſeruice.

FOr aſmuch as euery thing by nature enforceth it ſelfe with all dilligent induſtry (ſo much as it may) to reſiſte [Page] the great enormities wherewith it is afflicted, I am now conſtrained (after long ſufferaunce) to let you vnderſtand the ardent deſyre which by little and little conſ [...] me; as may plainely appeare by many manifeſt tokens, which ſhewe ſuffieiente teſtimonye of my true intence. And thinke not that I haue bene moued her [...] at all aduentures, or without ſome hope and aſſuraunce that I haue, in time to obtaine that which by the liberall helpe of your accuſtomed clemency may bring mee ſuche comforte as ſhall well content me, aſſuring my ſelfe, that from a thing of ſuch excellency as is your ſeemely ſelfe (in whome beſides your [...]euine bowty there are aſſembled ſo many good graces and heroicall ve [...]) man may not expecte any other but a ſincere and good inclination to immitate almoſt in all thinges the cuſtomes of amorous humanitys, making him to appeare pittifull in deede and word, and redye to impart his liberall fauour to all thoſe that craue it, and by their good behauiour doe duly deſerue it. This alſo yeldeth ſome ſatiſfactiō to my troubled mind, that my words which were of late reſtrained, haue now found free iſſue, whereby I requyre helpe at your handes, whilſte I yet feele in my ſelfe ſufficiente habillitye to receiue it, aſſuring you that it will be to late for ſo ſitall a benefit, if you delay the time to let me inioy the formine of your friendly [...]uour, wherof being very deſyrous, I attend your curteous aunſwere, with aſſured hope that your good pleaſure will be to accept me for your humble ſeruant, that ſo long as any ſparke of lyfe remaineth in mee, haue vowed my ſelfe to your ſeruice, and cannot but accounte you for my onely miſtreſſe. Aſſure your ſelfe the refore that my lyfe may not long indure, if my [...] deſtinye doe denye me the fauour to fynde you agreeable to my affectionate deſyre.

Finis.

The Louer hauing long time loued a fayre Gentlewoman, at whoſe handes he had reciued ſmall hope of obtaining his purpoſe, wrighteth vnto her as followeth.

[Page]

TO vſe any long diſcourſe my dearely beloued Parmenia, in the declaration of my great good will and ſeruent affection towardes you, I coumpte it but friuotous, ſeing I am well aſſured that you haue long ſince perceyued, and from time to time made perfect [...]ryall of my true [...]uer towards you yet to the hope ſo vncertain that I haue hitherto receiued frō you, as I cannot aſſure my ſelf of any further fauour at your handes, then he that hath neuer deſerued any at all, and as it is the property of all thoſe that loue faithfully ſo feare the worſt, ſo doe I many times miſdoubt leaſt through my owne euill deſtenye, or the fained flattery of ſome falſe diſſembler, I ſhal bee depriued of that comfort which doth more content me then the Conqueſt of a whole kingdome: wherefore being greatly greued with the vncertaintie of my preſent eſtate, by meanes [...] y• mutability, that many times I find to be in you, not able any longer to ſuſtain the torments that it putteth me vnto, I haue thought good to write theſe few words vnto you moſt humbly beſeeching you to diſſolue me of this doubt without delay that if I finde not your aunſwere agreeable with my deſyre I may ſeeke if I can to ſuppreſſe the ſeruente affection that is nowe ſo deepelye rooted in my harft, as I feare mee I ſhall hardlye remooue it.

Doe this my good Parmenia, and feare not anye inconuenience that may growe thereby.

For, I hope that by graunting mee youre friendlye fauoure, you ſhall haue no cauſe to repente you of any thing that ſhall happen vnto you vnleſſe it be becauſe you [Page] haue ſo long lacked the company of ſo comfortable a companyon, by whoſe meanes with the helpe of God you ſhal not only be deliurred of your long and grreuous ſickneſſe, which cannot be otherwiſe cured, but alſo leauing the life that now you [...]eade be cid of all theſe your mallicious Enemies, that with their enuye on deuill dealing doe daylye vndeſeruedly deuiſe to doe you diſpleaſure, and withall purchaſe to your ſelfe ſo faithfull a friend as for anye aduenture will neuer forſake you but vſing his dilligente & carefull induſtry to prouide for your maintenance, which neede I hope ſhall neuer happen vnto you, howeſoeuer you eſteeme my preſent ſtate to be, for I know there is nothing ſo difficult, but the wit of man if wil be with it may well bring it to paſſe, comforting my ſelfe with this aſſured hope, that God will neuer ſuffer them to perriſhe that put their truſt in him.

Thus muche my good harmena, I haue thoughte good to wryte vnto you becauſe I coulde not finde conuenic [...] tyme or mete opportunity to deliuer it vnto you in [...] I pray you conſyder of it aduiſedly, that I may know your reſolute aunſwere therein, And ſo fare you well.

The Louer being promiſed a reſolute aunſwere to that he deſyred, wrighteth to his beloued Miſtreſſe, in this manner, wherein he perſwadeth her, to pittie his paſſions.

THe pore miſerable wretch that hath long continued in Captiuity, and knoweth not what ſhall become of him cannot be more troubled in mynde, or toſſed with more intollerable tormentes to increaſe his callamity then I am at this preſent, for feare to finde your aunſwere contrarye to my expectation. And ſurelye were it not that I knowe your clemency to be ſuch as cannot with crueltye counteruayle the courteſy of ſo faithful a frind as I to my ſmal power haue alwayes ſhewed my ſelfe to be towardes you, I

[Page] ſhould long ſince rather haue bereaued my lyfe to prooue my loyaltie, then by attending the dreadful ſentence of my condemnation, be adiudged to dye without deſerte, by her whoſe welfare I haue preferred, before all worldly Treaſure.

The law of nature bindeth you to bend moſt to him that loueth you beſt, and bydeth moſte ſorrowe for your ſake. Iuſtice alſo inioyneth you to render to euery one his right which if you performe accordingly, as you muſt needes do if you deſyre to be demed worthye of the eſtimation which belongeth to ſuch a one as you are, I doubt not but I ſhal receiue from you that comfort which I haue long tyme couited, I meane your friendlye fauour and franke conſente in loue, to knit with me the knot of perpetuall amitye, as with him that for his loyall loue, hath aboue all other beſt deſerued it, and deſyreth rather to dy, then liue and lack it.

The tragedy of Meliager, ſonne to Oeneus King of Calcedonia.

PArthaons ſonne, Oeneus King

of calcedonia lande,

To all the Gods did inſtitute,

and offer with his hande,

His ſacrifiſe ſaue onelye to

Diana dyre, whome he

For hatred or forgetfulnes

remitted, wherewith ſhee

Full greatly gretude, a huge great Bore,

did ſend to waſte the lande,

That made much ſpoyle in many a place,

and no man might withſtand,

Untill Oeneus at the laſt,

in mind oppreſt with greefe,

A generall hunt ordeyned had,

whereof his ſonne was cheefe.

[Page] That Meliager hight, with whome,

beſides his vnckles twayne,

That [...]oxeus and Plexippus hight,

there went as bookes ſhew plaine,

A Uirgin fayre the Daughter,

of Iaſius great of Fame,

Through alf Arcadia where he raign de,

Atlanta was her name,

who with a ſtroke ſhe gaue that Bore,

Did make him fyrſt co bleede,

And therefore when the Bore was ſlaine,

to recompence that deede,

To her the head and humbles both

did Meliager giue.

which ſoone from her his vnckles tooke.

ſo much it did them greeue,

Wherewith Meliager ſore diſpleaſde,

did therefore ſlay them both,

Which when his mother Althea knew,

ſhe waxing wondrous wroth,

Into the fyre the brand did caſt,

whereon his lyfe depended,

Which being waſted cleane away,

then ſtraight his life it ended,

For whoſe diceaſe his Siſters all,

full lamentably mourned,

Till they at laſt amidſt their wo,

to Turky Hennes were turned.

Lenuoy.

THeſe foreſayde thinges who noteth well,

to fyre them faſt in mynde,

He ſhall not fayle for his auayle,

good fruicte therein to fynde.

Fyrſt by Oeneus are we taught,

at no time to neglect,

[Page] The duty which we owe to God.

but chiefely haue reſpect,

To honour him, and laude his name,

that leddeth lyfe to all,

which errth cont [...]ines, who lifts vs vp,

and likewiſe lets vs fall,

whome Seas obay, whome heauens a dore

and all thinges elſe beſyde,

who ſees and knowes our ſecret thoughtes,

though we the ſame would hyde,

And as he is a God moſte iuſt,

ſo iuſtly will he render,

His grace vnto the penitent,

although a great offender,

Deſeruing death moſt damnable,

ſo mercifull is he.

That as he ſaith, he doth not ſeeke,

a ſinners death to ſee,

For when from depth of hart we will,

our hainous crimes confeſſe,

And craue forgiueneſſe at his handes,

we ſoone ſhall finde redreſſe,

But when no mendment he perceiues,

nor warninges to preuayle,

Then with his mighty hand he doth,

vs wicked wight as aſſayle,

And vs and all our progeny,

vnto the death purſues,

Then praiſe we God, and vnto him,

all reuerence let vs vſe,

And you O Captaines that doe guyde,

and gouerne Armies great,

Ye Magiſtrates and Rulers all,

that are with pryde repleate,

Leaue of lyke lawleſſe Lordes to liue,

Of Meliager learne,

[Page] To yield to ech his due deſert,

as reaſon ſhall diſearne,

Who merrits golden gaine to get,

for worthy workes committed,

In countreyes cauſe let his reward,

in no wiſe be remitted,

So ſhall you ſurely reape renoune,

and purchaſe peoples loue,

Yea valyaunt minds to vallyaunt actes,

thereby you ſoone ſhall moue,

you enuious ſorte at proſperous ſtate,

of men that doe repine,

That grutch to ſee another gaine,

with moſt mallicious eyne,

Forſake that foule infyrmitye,

that hurt with vertue heale,

Which vexeth euery vaine of you,

for grace to God appeale.

Elſe ſhall confuſyon come to you,

and that which you did craue,

To light on others that be ſure,

your ſelues alone ſhall haue,

By Meliager murtherers may

a good example ſee,

To cauſe them ſhun to ſeeke their blood,

with whome they greeued be,

Leaſt that the ſame to heauenly Ioue,

from earth do vengeaunce erye.

and ſo their ſoules be damde in hell,

when corpes in graue doe lye,

For God ſo much a murderer hates,

that be he Priuce or peare,

yet blood craues blood, and vnto God

the Begger is as deare

In all reſpectes, as is the King,

that rules in regall raigne,

[Page] Who murdereth ſhall be murdered,

who ſlayeth ſhall be ſlaine,

What meaſure men to others meate,

with that they ſhall againe,

Be meaſured this finde we true,

by tryall euery day,

Now laſt of all let ſ [...]ſters learne,

where vertue beares cheefe ſway,

To loue their bretheren feruently,

as nature doth requyre,

So ſhall they purchaſe praiſe of all,

that know their good deſyre.

Finis.

A letter written by one to a ritche Widdow, wherein vſing earneſt perſwations he ſoliciteth his ſute, and craueth to be accepted.

LIke as the Captaine maye well bee counted a Coward, and vnworthy of victorye, that for a ſmall diſcomfiture at the fyrſt encounter will be cleane diſcouraged, ſo may he bee deemed but a diſſembling Louer, that for one denyall will bee drawne cleane awaye, neither doth he deſerue to reape ſo greate a commoditye, as the conſent of her that he loueth maye bring vnto him.

But my loue being grounded vpon good occaſyons, and ſetled on ſo ſure a foundation, as it cannot be eaſily ouerwhelmed, ſo long as any ſparke of lyfe abydeth in my body, it were great crueltye to contemne me, or careleſlye to caſt me of, without rendring me a recompeuce worthy my deſeruing, which I am fully perſwaded that your curteous condicion cannot conſent vnto, and therefore am the more imboldened once againe to trouble you with my Letters. And although you wordes haue hitherto giuen mee ſmall [Page] hope of any further fauour then I haue already found, yet am I ſo blinded with affection, as I cannot but ſtill perſeuer in the ſame.

It pleaſed you at our laſte conference amongeſt other thinges, to enquyre of my eſtate, which being in deede very ſimple, in compariſon of that which it hath pleaſed God to call you vnto. If I ſhoulde haue made it better then it was, when you ſhould afterwardes haue proued the contrarye, you mighte well haue deemed mee a Diſſembler, and worthye of greate blame, for dealing ſo dublely with you, and therefore I ſoughte rather to abaſe then better my ſelfe, as I truſt youre ſeemelye ſelfe haue well perceiued.

Yet would I not haue you thinke me ſo ſimple, but that I ſhall be able alwayes to get an honeſt liuing to mainetayne me withall, although I had none other helpes then that which God hath giuen me by nature, much more then being matched with ſuch a one as you are, whoſe wealth is better knowne to others, then wiſhed of mee for myne owne priuate profite.

For as I knowe my ſelfe altogither vnworthy of ſo great a benefite, ſo muſt I needes acknowledge the Fauoure that I haue already found at your handes, farre to exceede my deſartes.

And yet, if you were priuie to my purpoſes and knew my true intent, and the great god will and vnfayned affection that youre clemencye conſtrayneth mee to beare vnto you, I doubte not but I ſhoulde fynde that friendlye fauour at your hands, that otherwiſe were vnmete for one of my degree.

But peraduenture, becauſe I am a yong manne, and haue but little to take vnto, you thinke I woulde if I were once poſſeſſed of you, ſeeke onely to liue vppon that which you haue, and not being carefull for your commoditye, nor reſpecting your perſon as I oughte to doe, [Page] would careleſſely conſume your ſubſtaunce, and when nothing remaineth to maintaine my ryots, woulde leaue you to to ſhifte for your ſelfe, (as many vyld varlets doe at this day the more is the pitty) But they be ſuch as haue in them neither honeſtye nor wiſedome, or will doe well.

And if you ſo conceiue of me (as I hope you do not,) how farre this imagination differeth from my good meaning, God and mine owne conſcieuce onely knoweth, I beſeech you therefore ſuffer no ſuch thoughtes to ſinke into youre minde, for if my derdes bee founde anye thing differente from my wordes, I wiſh that the earth may gape and ſwal low me vp, or Fyre from heauen conſume me,

Diuerſe are the reaſons that induce me thus earneſtlye to ſolicite my ſute vnto you.

Firſt your perſonage, which pleafeth me more then any that euer I ſawe.

Secondly, your curteous condttions, vertues, and wiſdome, being ſuch, as would well content any honoſte and well minded man, though the reſt were wanting.

Teyrdelye, your yeares which being at the full perfection, neither to yong a wanton, or to olde a Dotarde, but one that are both hable for your experieuce, to miniſter good councell to ſuche an vnſkilfull yong man as I am, and alſo ſufficiently ſatiſfye me in all other thinges requiſite for my yong yeares.

Fowerrhlye, youre wealth to ſupplye my wante, whiche beeing ſo well ordred as I aſſure you it ſhould be, if I inioyed it, it might not onelye be conſerued, but alſo increaſed to the great commoditie and comforte of vs both.

Theſe be the cauſes that incourage mee ſo effectually to proſecute my purpoſe, wherein if I finde you fauourable as I hope I ſhall, I will not onelye bee readdye to perfourme my promyſes in all reſpectes, [Page] but alſo would be moſte humbly at your commaundment, as your moſte bounden and obedient ſeruaunt,

Finis.

The fyrſt Letter written to the ſame widdowe, extolling her vertues, which he allegeth to be the cauſe of his ardent affection, he requyreth mariage of her.

THe commendable quallities togither wyth the incomparable curteſy that I haue hearde and partly ſeene to be in you hath in incouraged me thus boldly to preſume to preſent you with my diſordered Letters, therebye to lette you vnderſtand the harty good will and vntained affection which I haue long tyme borne vnto you though teare to offend you haue cauſed me hitherto to conceale it, hoping that although my degree be farre inferiour to yours, in euery reſpect, yet will you not ſcorne my curteſy, or requite my good will with crueltye.

My requeſt is reaſonable, and my deſyres not diſhoneſt and therefore deſerue the rather to be fauoured, marriage is the marke I ſhoote at, which is a holy thing, and ordeyned by God, from the beginning.

And although I craue to be matched with you, yet if I might finde the fauour at your handes to be ſo accepted, conſidering our inequallity, and not deſyring the Priueledge which perteineth to thoſe that inioye their equals, to were, obediēce in the wife toward her huſband, I wold refer my ſelf wholy vnto your diſcretion, and yeild you the preheminence in al things as reaſon willeth, & being but as it were your ſteward, woulde diſcharge you of thoſe weighty and troubleſome affayres, that are incidēt to your calling.

As for my quallities and condicions what they are, I will leaue tothe report of others. But in deede my welth [Page] is verye ſmall, yet is that w [...] ſo ſupplyed with good will, as I hope you ſhoulde haue no cauſe to repent you of the choyſe of ſo baſe a perſouage, but rather reioyce that it was your lotte, to light on ſo louing a friend, For I am ſure that the man liueth not on earth at this hower, that would more eſteeme, loue and cherriſh you then I would do, & if it would pleaſe you once to make triall of me, I hope you ſhould finde me in all things according to your hartes deſyre, which conſidered, I doubt not but I ſhall finde you ready to releeue me, by recompenſing my good will with the lyke, with which hope I will comforte my ſelfe, till I heare the contrary, and ſo crauing pardone for my boldeneſſe, I commit you to God.

A yong Gentlewoman wrighteth this for aunſwere to a Gentlemans Letter, that craued her loue, and exhorteth her to keepe promiſe with him, wherein excuſing her ſelfe, by her ouer yong yeres, and his vnhabillitye, ſhe prayeth him to ceaſe of his ſute.

YOur Leeters ſyr I haue receiued,

and pondring well the ſame,

Haue now preparde my ſelfe thereto,

an aunſwere fit to frome,

Though in your writ you rome and raunge,

aboute the buſhe a while,

And vſe huge heapes of needeleſſe wordes,

my ſences to begyle.

I ſee you ſeeke, but all in vaine,

to winne me to your wife,

Which I may not vouchſafe to graunt,

for feare of further ſtryfe.

Becauſe it is not in my power,

to doe it, though my will,

[Page] were wholy bent thereto: but in

their handes whoſe prudeut ſkill,

And wiſedome great is ſuch,

as knowing what for me,

Moſte meeteſt is; to your demaund

will neuer once agree,

And as their care is very great

to doe me good, ſo I

(As duety binds) in all thinges will,

my ſelfe to them apply.

your welth likewiſe is very ſmall,

as you your ſelfe confeſſe,

And mine not great, and am right ſure,

it would be ſo much leſſe,

If following fancyes flattering words,

or fained vowes, I ſhould

Contrary doe to friendes deſyre,

and that which worſt I would,

Their loue and fauour loſe thereby,

therefore ceaſe of your ſute,

Content yur ſelfe with reaſons rule,

and doe no blame impute

To me at all, whoſe tender age,

ne wit ne welth will ſerue,

To take in hand ſo great a charge,

but I therein ſhould ſwerue.

And for that cauſe I doe not mynde,

to match with any one.

Untill I be of ryper yeares,

nor promiſe plight to none,

yet when I doe, I will apply

my ſelfe in all I may,

To chooſe a wiſe and prudent mate,

That walkes in vertues way:

Prouiding therewithall,

that welth doe neuer want,

[Page] ſufficient alwayes to maintaine,

the fruicte o [...] ſuch a plant:

For whereas liuing lacking is,

to maintaine ſuch eſtate,

Their perfect loue will ſoone peruert,

to cruell cancred hate,

And whereas rooted rancour raignes,

all thinges to ruine runne,

yea vertue chaungde to vice moſt yilde,

decay they cannot ſhunne

That ſhall be matched ſo, wherefore,

doth wiſdome alwayes will,

In time conueniente heede to take,

if we will ſhunne ſuch ill,

But though I know right well, the vſe

of many men to be,

With flattering wordes, and fyled phraſe,

as did Aeneas he,

To Dido, and falfe Demophon

to Phillis faire his friend,

For to deceiue vs ſilly ſoules,

that neuer hurt pretend,

But credite all their cloked craft,

that beares a ſimple ſhoe,

Till we be caught in Cupids ſnare,

ſo faſt, that forth to goe

We haue not power, and then vnkind

they leaue vs in the laſh,

A iuſt reward no doubt for ſuch,

as will be ouer raſh

In that they take in hand, yet I,

not iudging ſo of you,

But thinking that your loue profeſt.

both perfect is and true,

Doe yeelde you thankes therefore,

and humbly pardon craue,

[Page] For that I may not giue conſent,

to that you ſeeke to haue,

The cauſe and reaſons tolde before,

that doe in deede deteine me,

Perſwading ſtill the contrary,

at all times doe reſtraine me,

As for the promiſe which ſo much,

you vrge me for to keepe,

Aſſuring me by breache thereof,

to runne in daunger deepe,

No promiſe haue I made, whereon

you may ſo much take holde,

I am right ſure, but that I may,

to breake the ſame he holde,

But if I had, yet euery one

would iudge you farre vnwiſe,

To challenge any al my handes,

in whome it nothing lyes

For to performe the ſame, ſith of

my ſelfe nothing I haue,

Nor wit to know what thing is ill,

or what is good to craue,

And therefore ayming very wyde,

and as one wanting ſight,

Doth throw his ſtaffe, ſo doe you ſhoot [...],

but ſhall not hid the whight,

And therefore now to make an ende,

I humbly you requyre,

No more to mooue me in ſuch ſort,

but brydeling your deſyre,

And pondring rightly this reply,

which here to you I make,

To feede no more on fooliſh hope,

But this for aunſwere take.

Finis.

A. B. wrighting to his ſiſter C. B. admoniſheth her of ſuch thinges as he fyndeth amuſe in her, and inſtructeth her how ſhee ſhould behaue herſelf to preſerue her good name.

[Page]

WElbeloued Siſter, for as much as both nature and conſcience bindeth me to be carefull for your commodity I haue thought good (as a friend) to admoniſhe you of ſuch thinges as I finde amiſſe in you, which I praye you take in good part, and iudge none euill in me for the ſame, for I proteſt vnto you before God, that it is not of any enuye or mallice that I beare vnto you, but of meere good will, and to diſcharge my duty both towardes God, and you,

I ſee and heare and am ſorry to vnderſtande, what reportes are dayly rayſed againſt you, for that you keepe companye, and make your ſelfe acquainted with ſo manye lewde diſpoſed perſons as you doe.

In deede it is a great preſumption of an euill lyfe to bee conuerſaunt with thoſe that be euill, for commonlye lyke will to lyke.

Peraduenture you thinke it a goodly grace, and greatly to your commendation, with friendly lookes, and curteous intertainements to draw men vnto you, but it is not ſo, and ſurely if you did conſider the iſſue that it hath, and the inconuenience that groweth thereby, you woulde rather ſhut your ſelfe vp in ſome ſecrete chamber, and lyue a ſollitary lyfe for euer, then ſet to the ſhew ſo often as you doe, for truſt to this, and ſurely you ſhall fynd it moſt true, that as the Fowler with his fayned notes, bringeth the the byrdes to his Net, ſo thoſe ſubtle ſerpentes, whoſe mindes are alwayes bent to miſchiefe, will with their flatring ſpeeches, and falſe fained fetches, allure you to theire lubidious luſtes, if they can.

[Page] But lend no eare vnto them, nor giue no credit vnto their words, for he that amongſt them maketh the greteſt ſhow of good will, wil bee the man that ſhal ſooneſtdeceiue you.

It is not any honeſt loue that they intend, but their deſyre is to deſpoyle you of that which is the Iewell, wherein you oughte cheefelye to ioye, whereof if they fayle, they will then rayſe the moſte vilde and ſlaunderous reportes againſt you that can be deuyſed, and will not ſticke to reporte their pleaſure of you, in euery place where they come, to your great reproch and infamy, & though it be neuer ſo faice that they faine, yet the report thereof, entring into the eares of the common ſort, (that are redier to beleeue leaſings, then creditt the verity,) they wil ſone imagine it to be true, and blaze it abrode for a certainciye, into the eares of all men, and ſo where by good gouernment you might haue gotten great cōmendation, through this your diſordred liberty, you grow in great defamacion. Leaue then to lend care to the lewde perſwations of thoſe corrupt Caterpillers, be not in any wiſe cenuerſaunt with them, but flye from them, as from a moſt peſtilent euill, ſo ſhall you preſerue your good name vnſpotted, and giue no occaſyon to be ill thought of, which in my poore opinyon, will be more beneficiall to your ſelfe, and leſſe hurtefull to others, then by following your former courſe it would be, and ſo fare you well.

The lamentable complaint of a louer, who not withſtanding his diuerſe daungerous trauailes, and continual ſorrow ſuſtained coulde fynd no fauor at al at her hands that was the cauſer of his callamity, but cruell contemt, to counteruayle his curteſy.

OF many torments, ſtraunge and tedious toyles,

That griſly ghoſtes in Limbo lake ſuſtaine,

Of feareful facts, and bloody beaſtly broiles,

That there are vſde, the pleaſaunt Poets fayne,

As how that Phlegias to his treble paine,

Upon a turning wheele is fixed faſt,

[Page] which makes him lothe his lyfe, that long doth laſt.

How Siſiphus doth rowle the reſtleſſe ſtone,

which to the top attaind, turnes back againe,

How ſilly Titius making moſtful mone.

Unto a Rock faſt tyde, doth ſtil ſuſtaine,

The griping greefes that rauerring byrds conſtraine,

who on his entrailes dayly feede their fill,

And yet he liues, to trye theſe tormentes ſtill.

How Tantalus amidſt the ſtreame that ſtandes,

Up to the chin, is like for drouth to dye,

And goodly Apples, almoſt in his hand,

with hunger nipt, in extreame payne doth lye,

How Danaus daughters doe themſelues apply,

with pailes that bottomes want, a tubbe to fill,

That wanteth bottome to, which paſſeth ſtill.

But all their paiues may not compared be,

To that which I doe euery hower abyde.

For all at once aſſembled are in me,

There is no torment that I haue not tryde,

To me the heauens haue happy ha [...] denyde,

The Plannets all appointed me by fate.

to liue and leade my life in lothſome ſtate,

All day my minde with fancies fond is fraught,

which greatly waſtes my witte and breakes my braine

To no effect at all, when ſleepe hath caughte

Some holde of me at night, alas my paine

Growes greater farre, for dreadfull dreauies reſtraine

My quiet reſt, all myrth is mone to me,

All pleaſure paine, I loth the light to ſee.

Of all the wightes that euer liude in loue,

was neueralone whoſe [...] was lyke [...] my [...],

[Page] though grefe thein gript, though pain they long [...] proue

yet did they gaine their wiſhed will in fyne,

Their Ladies liking did it loue [...]iclyne,

And they inioyde their ioy and hartes delight,

At wiſhed will their wretched woe to quight.

Though paſtor Paris paſt the ſurging Seas,

And many perrils more for Holl [...] ſake,

yet he at laſt his heauy hart to eaſe,

Enioyde her loue, and reft her from her make,

which deede the Greelies ſo gréeuouſely did take,

As Troy therefore they did to ruine bring,

The fitteſt fruicte that of ſuch loue doth ſpring.

when Peſeus had with tedſous foyle diſtreſt,

The Monſtet huge that laboured to deuoke,

Andromada, that [...] Rock did reſt

Faſt bound with chaines, expecting euery hower,

For dread ull death, he cropt the coſtly flower,

which fancy forſt him ſeeke, with ſuch annoy,

And after led his life in laſting ioy.

And many more ſuch lyke a [...]enge Ieoulde,

who after paine did [...]haſe their deſyre,

I might bring in Naſtagio if I would,

Hippomanes that fryde in Cupids fyre,

And Pelops to if cauſe did ſo requyre,

But theſe will ſerue my faying true to trye,

That none for loue hath led ſuch lyfe as I.

For Ialas of all men moſt a [...],

Haue ſpent much time with care and buſy cure,

And when I thought me beſt, my ha [...] was worſt,

when ſafe I ſeemde, then ſate I moſt vnſure,

Not deadly dole that I did long [...],

Not trickling teares [...] could ſerue,

[Page] To purchaſe that which I doe well deſerue.

When as I glaunce my glaring eyes on her,

She bendes ger lookes vpon ſome other thing,

When as I would with wordes my ſute preferre,

Then angry ſhe away from me doth fling,

Saying take heede; the Siren now doth ſing,

And when with pen my paſſyons I depaint,

She rentes my writ and ſcornes my pittious plaine.

If meſſengers I ſend with her to treate,

And pleade my caufe as they can beſt deuiſe.

Their wordes ſo ſet her haughty hart in heate,

who cauſeleſſe ſtill doth meſo much deſpiſe,

As when ſhe heares me narnde, her blood doth riſe,

An when my friendes doe her preſent with aught,

She frets and fnmes as one with fury fraught.

Through places ſcarcely knowne, both day and night,

through wods, through groues, & mariſh grounds I rode

Through Forreſts, fennes and furrowes voyde of lighte,

yea ouer hautye hilles where I abode,

Full many bitter blaſtes before I trode

The truſtleſſe where I this Tiger found,

whoſe diueliſh deedes doth cauſe my cares abound.

Then curſed be the hower and eake the days,

wherein I did to her my iorney frame,

I would I had bene murdered by the way,

Before I came to ſee that cruell Dame,

who for good will doth yield me bitter blame,

For then the death had me depriude of all,

The daungers dyre, wherein I dayly fall.

But all to late to ſhut the ſtable dore,

When, ſo ſaith the prouer be olde,

[Page] I wiſely ſhould haue thought of this before

I did attempt her bewty to beholde,

Who hath my heauy hart ſo hard in holde,

As needes I muſt both loue and ſerue her ſtill,

Though ſhe me lothe, and ſeeke my blood to ſpill.

you yonglinges all, where euer that you be,

That ſibiect are vnto the lawes of loue,

Take hede in time, be wyſely warnd by me,

On whome you looke, leaſt lookes that liking moue,

Ingendring loue, make you more paines to proue,

Then I pore wretch, that dayly wiſh to dye,

And yet doe liue, theſe tormentes ſtraunge to trye.

Finis.

A yong man being in loue wiih a fayre Gentlewoman, that was but his equall, deſyreth to be accepted for her huſband.

THe paſſyons extreme which for your ſake I haue long ſuſtained, being now through continuaunce of tyme, ſo wonderfully augmented and increaſed, that being no longer able to collerate the extreme paine thereof, I am coacted and perforce conſtrained in moſt humble wiſe to craue grace at your handes, which is the onely meane whereby I may be cured of this moſte greeuous and in fupportable mallady: Refuſe not therefore I pray you this my petition, which is both honeſt and reaſonable let not my good will be required with diſdaine, nor my curteſie with crueltie, for that were a point voyde of all humanitye, and far different from all maydenlike modeſtie: Dido Queene of Carthage loued Aeneas a ſtraunger and a baniſhed man, Euphinia Daughter to the King, and heyre to the crowne of the Kingdome of Corinth, matched herſelfe with Achariſto her fathers dondman. The Dutcheſſe of Malſey choſe [Page] for her huſbande, her ſeruaunt Virico. And Venus alſo, (if we may giue credite to the fixions of Poets, who for hee ſurpaſſing hewry was cauonized a Goddeſſe,) refuſed noe to be the wife of lame Vulcanus.

Much leſſe neede you then, that are mortal, and but of a meane progenye in compariſon of the worſte of all thoſe princely Dames before repeated, to thinke ſcorue of mee that am no Straunger, but your owne natiue contreyman, no wandring exile, but a true and faithfull Subiect, continuing in the countrey where I was firſt borne and foſtered, neither ſeruaunt to you, nor ſlaue to any other, but vtterly free from the yoke of ſeruitude and bondage, vntil ſuch time as by contemplating the bright beames of your ſurpaſſing hewry, my poore hart was ſo captinated, that I was conſtrained to commit my ſelfe wholy vnto your clemency, nor yet ſo monſtrous and miſhapen a creature, whereby you might haue iuſte occaſion ſo miſlike of mee, but God I giue him thankes for it, as plentifully enriched with the giftes of nature, as another man.

All which being well and aduiſedly of you conſidered. I am perſwaded and fullye reſolued in my cogitation, that you will not refuſe my gentle offer, or diſdayne to electe and accepte me for your loyall louer, and lawfull huſband. who (aboue all other earthly Creatures) am moſte deſyrous for tearme of lyfe to be lincked with you in league of perfecte loue, and amity.

Thus hoping that by meanes of youre bountifull henignitie, and accuſtomed clemencye, I ſhall not fayle to fynde all thinges correſpondent, and according to my hartes deſyre, I leaue to trouble you a ny further for this time. And ſo fare you well.

Finis.

C. D. Being enamored of a fayre and vertous yong Gentlewoman he craueth ſpeedy comfort.

[Page]

DEarely beloued, withoute whoſe grace and good will, nothing ſeemeth ſweete or pleaſaunt vnto me, no not to inioy my lyfe, vnleſſe I may therewith obtayn thy loue which my hart aboue all thinges terreſtiall doth chiefelye couet and deſyre.

Loue onely hath cauſed me to wright vnto you, youre ſurpaſſing bewty hath perforce procured me to loue you, and your rate and ſinguler vertues haue chiefely kindled my affection towardes you, which affection doth ſo greatly abound in me, and ſo inceſſaunclye tormente my poore captiue carcas, that if you in whome it onely reſteth to redreſſe the ſame doe not ſpeedily render ſome pleaſant and precious pocion, to aſſwage the intollerable anguiſhe of this my moſte greeuous and painefull mallady, my lyfe is like to be put in great perrill thereby.

The plant whilſt it is yet yong and tender may be eaſily cut downe. but if it be let alone vntouched, it will in time grow ſo great, as with much labour it ſhall be almoſt impoſſible ſo to roofe it out, but that ſome ſmal ſprigs ſhal ſtill abyde behinde in the bowels of the earth which maye afterward receiue againe the former force, and accuſtomed greatneſſe.

The waxe whilſt it is warme, may be eaſily reduſed into what forme or faſhion that a man will, but being let alone till it be colde, it wareth ſo harde and brittle, that it wil ſoner brea [...], then be brought to any perfect proportion, or vniformitye.

So likewiſe is it in loue, for the louer that loueth faythfully, being dayly fedde with fayre wordes, if he doe not in ſhort time obtaine the full effect of his deſyre, the flame already kindled in his breſt, will in the eude waxe ſo wonder full great, as all the water in riber and Nylus, ſhall not [Page] ſuffice to qu [...] the ſame, vntill the body of the pore myſerable louer, be diſſolued into duſt.

Conſyder therefore I beſeech you of my ſorrowful ſtate, way my good wil and faithful affection towards you, po [...] de [...] my pittious plain [...]s, and deny not grace to him that loueth you more heartlye then his owne proper lyfe, who to obtaine your loue would not feare to paſſe the perrilious waues of vnhappy Heliſpont, but as a faithfull Leander to pleaſe my beloued Hero, would be ready to attempte it how daungerous ſoeuer the aduenture were.

Refuſe not then this my reaſonable requeſt, ſeing that by yielding therevnto, you can no way be pr [...] any [...] hindred, and yet by [...] it, ſhall put my life in great perrill, purchaſe your ſelfe an euill reporte, and bee of all men accounted for cruell.

Thus hoping that your pittifull hart will, through this my moſte humble ſubmiſſion be moued to take pittie and compaſſion vpon my ſorrowfull state, I doe for this [...] commit you to the tuition of the Almighty, whome I pray ſtill to protect you.

Finis.

The Louer perceiuing the loue of his beloued miſtreſſe, not to be ſo perfect as before time it had bene, wrighteth vnto her as followeth.

BEing of late my dearely beloued Miſtreſſe, by meanes of your comly perſonage adorned and garniſhed with ſo many good giftes of nature, allured or rather proc [...]ed to loue you, and [...] [...] [...]ion or [...]en of diſdaynefulneſſe to appeare in you, but that rather as it ſeemed to me you burned with the lyke flame, and had as fyrinly fixed your fancey vppon me, as I was fully determined for [...]earme me of lyfe to loue you.

But alas, at this preſent, to my great griefe and contynuall [Page] vexation both of mynde and body. I [...] the contrary.

For now your mynde, vpon what occaſyon I knowe not, is cleane altered on a ſodaine, ſo that in ſteede of friendly lookes I finde a ſcowning countinaunce, and in ſ [...]eede of the gentle wordes, and curteous communication which before you uſed with me, I haue nowe nothing elſe but froward and vnfriendly aunſweres, vngratefull words and priuy poyſoned nippes, which ſeemeth to mee farre more bitter then gall ſo is my good will requyted with diſdayne and my curteſy with vnkindneſſe.

Oh who would thinke that in one indued with ſo many [...] vertues as you are, there ſhoulde bee abiding ſo foule a vice as is ingratitude, who woulde iudge that in ſo comly a body, there ſhould remain ſo vnconſtāt a hart, what haue I done that miſliketh you; wherein haue I offended you? whereby haue I deſerued this great diſcurteſy at your handes? Are you intrapped with the loue of any [...] on [...] [...] our loue in ſuſpicion, haue you at any time bene vpbrayded with the ſame, or elſe hath ſome mallicious perſon practiſed by ſlaunderous reportes to raiſe reproch vpon me in my abſence, or vitered [...] [...] wordes againſt me, thinking thereby to hinder our loue, and cauſe you to conceiue ſome euill opinyon of me.

If it be ſo, or howſoeuer it be, I pray you let me haue intelligence, and before the truth of the matter be thorowlye tryde, to their great ſhame that ſhall reporte it (as I hope it will fall out in the end, when my aunſwere is harde,) condemne me not without deſert, for certainelye to my knowledge, I neuer yet did any thing wherewith you ſhould be offended, neither haue I offred any occaſyon whereby you might be iuſtly moued to thinke euill of me, if I haue it was vnwittingly, and being hartily ſorrye for the ſame, I doe moſte humblye craue pardon at youre handes.

[Page] Great is the loue I beare vnto you, and ſo greeuous is the wound that I haue receiued thereby, that if you, who are the iewell of my ioye, preſeruer of my health, and the very lengthner of my lingering lyfe, do not miniſter ſome comfortable conſarne, or pleaſaunt potion, to mittigate the intollerable torment of my moſte miſchieuous malladye, I am not able long to abyde it, and therefore I moſte humbly beſeeche you to haue go [...] [...] to my ſorowfull ſtate, and ſeing I am ſo fyrmely bente, for tearme of lyfe, to loue you aboue all other, caſt cleane from you all diſdainefulneſſe, and render mee lyke loue againe, on your part.

For thereby you ſhall purchaſe to your ſelfe ſo faythful a friend, as will alwayes continue moſte conſtant.

Needeleſſe it is for me to make any plainer declaration of my deſyre, for I am certaine that my good meaning is already well knowne vnto you, but this I ſay, and I take God to witneſſe, I ſpeake it vnfaynedlie, that the woman liueth not on the earth at this hower, which I coulde ſo will like of, as I doe of you, or with whome I had rather matche my ſelfe, ſo greatlye haue I bene affectioned vnto you, euen from the verye firſte hower that I behealde you, vntill this preſente time, and therefore committing my ſelfe into youre handes, in whome it onelye reſteth to redreſſe my ſorrowes, and comforte my carefull hart in hope to receiue ſuch anſwere from you, as ſhalbe gretly to my contentation I leaue to trouble you any further for this tyme.

Finis.

A Louer being doubtfull of the good will of his Ladye; by meanes of the mutabillitie that many times he founde to be in her, craueth more aſſuraunce at her handes.

[Page]

HOw great good will I haue long time borne you, my welbeloued Parmenia, both by my wordes and deedes you haue plainely perceiued and albe it that you haue diuerſe tymes in plain ſpeeche profeſſed the like vnto me, yet haue I to my greete [...] [...] ſo variable in all youre actions as I knowe not bowe to conceiue of you.

I pray you deale with me as a friend, feede me not with fayre wordes vnleſſedeedes doe followe accordingly, promiſe no more then you minde to perfourme, geue mee not hope to putme afterwardes in diſpaire, nor receiue me into your fauour, and afterwardes reiect me, for ſurely in ſo doing, you ſhall not onely deceiue me, but alſo greatly defame your ſelfe, when your double dealing ſhalbe known to others.

If you can fancy me, then without any exceptions conſent to take me for him whome you determinete loue and liue with all for ouer.

If you like not of an) then anſwere it directlie, that I may know what to truſt vnto, and ſo by refraining your companie, proue to repreſſe my fund affection, which is ſo firmelie fixed vpon you, as I feare me, I ſhall hardelie reproue it.

Faine would I more often frequente youre companye, but fearing to purchaſe your diſpleaſure, and wiſhing rather to ſuffer my ſelfe the greateſt ſorrow that may be ſuſtained, then you by any meanes ſhould abide any blame at all for my ſake I haue hitherto reſtrained my deſire with the rule of reaſon, and ſatiſfied my ſelfe often times with [Page] the onely ſight of the place where you frequent, as if your ſelfe had bene preſent with me, ſuch is the force of affection, but yet deſyring rather to haue it ſo in deede, then to deme it ſo, to the end I may haue conference with you, for uerſe occaſyons.

I moſte hartely, pray you let me either vnderſtand your minde by writing or elſe deuiſe ſome meanes that I may haue acceſſe vnto you to talke with you in proper perſon till which time I ſhall neuer take reſt, but bee continallye troubled with a thouſand imaginations.

Thus wiſhing you as well to fare, as your hart would deſyre, I commit you to the tuition of the Almighty whom I pray ſtill to protecte you.

Finis.

The Auctour writing to his ſiſter that was towardes mariage, teacheth how to make choiſe of a huſband and howe to behaue her ſelfe beeing a Wyfe.

DEarely beloued Siſter, vnderſtanding that you are diſpoſed to enter into the bleſſed ſtate of Matrimony, but with whome I know not; and remembring the ſage ſentence of that wiſe Emperour Marcus Aurelius, that the greateſt reward which one friend may imparte to an [...]ther is to ſuccour him with good councell, knowing alſo that there is nothing wherein councell is more requiſite then in marriages, for that whoſoeuer falleth in the perrilles there of can finde no remedy for it, withoute farre greater perrill, I haue thought good, as far as my weake wit, and ſlender ſkill can ſerue me, to ſhewe you my ſimple opinion therein.

Like as fyre my welbeloued Siſter, whiche lieth long in kindling, yeeldeth farre greater heate then that whiche by and by taketh flame, ſo loue which hath had long continuaunce [Page] is of muche more force then that whiche groweth vpon the ſudain; for as fyre that flameth at y• firſt blowing is but as a flaſh that by and by vaniſheth, ſo is the loue which groweth on the ſodain like vnto a ſhadow y• whilſt the ſonne ſhineth, ſheweth plain and perfit to the ſight of euery man, but when it is darkened, cannot be deſerned at all. So are there ſome men of ſo lewde a condicion that ſo long as her bewty abydeth, to whome they profeſſe good wil, her wealth not deminiſhed and her countinaunce ſeemeth chearefull, they continue their loue, but if the contrary happen, then by and by their loue waxeth-colde, for if her bewtie by ſickneſſe be abated, her wealth through anye caſualtie deminiſhed, or her chearefull countinaunce by ſorrow changed to the contrary, then forgetting her vertues which ſtil remain perfect, they are cleane changed to another likeneſſe, their ſwete meliferons words, become as bitter as wormwood; their ſeeking plain miſliking, & their great loue diſdaine. This is the fruiet of ſuch ſodaine loue, this is the beſt commoditye that may thereby bee reaped, for this we ſee by experience, that the fruict which is ſoneſt ripe, is ſoneſt rotten, and the Fyre whiche is ſoneſt kindled, is ſooneſt quenched, and ſo likewiſe is the hoteſt loue ſoneſt cold. wherfore I pray you, and friendly aduiſe you; in anye wiſe to take good deliberation in the choyſe of your huſbande, trye him thorowlye, before you truſt him that ſhall make you anye offer of his loue.

And though his outwarde behauyoure ſeeme honeſt, though his proffers be large, his perſwations greate, and his perſon pleaſe you neuer ſo well, yet till you haue well conſidered of the matter and conſulted with youre friendes, who will neyther aduiſe you to doe anye thing that is hurtfull, nor perſwade you from that whiche maye be profitable vnto you, yet giue not your conſent in anyewyſe to their flattering intiſementes.

For as the Fowler with his fained Notes deceiues the ſillye byrdes, and bringes them to their haue, ſo be there [Page] ſome that vnder a fayre ſhew of fayned friendſhippe, ſeeke by all meanes poſſible to corrupte the myndes, of honeſte maydens, and intice them to folly, which they ſhall hardly withſtand, if they lend care to their lewde language. But were it ſo that you ſhoulde lighte vppon one that indeede loued you dearelye, and ment to deale plainely, and honeſtly with you, if you haue not reſpecte as well to other matters as to that, it wil in the end redo [...]d to your great diſcommodity, for although in the beginning, few marriages ſeeme vnpleaſant, yet being made only for loue without further aduiſement they cannot choſe but haue a ſadde and ſorrowful ending: and therfore I would aduiſe you to choſe ſuch a one as ſhould not only be wiſe & welthye, but alſo well inclined welthy to maintaine you, according to your deſyre, & his degree, wiſe to gouern thoſe goods that God hath ſent him, with reaſon & diſcretion, and of a good conuerſation to the intent that he may not onely order you as he ought to do, but alſo bring vp his famely vertuouſly and in the feare of God for ſo ſhall God bleſſe him the better, and al his actions ſhal haue a good & proſperous end, wheras if he be vicious, & of a lewd diſpoſition, his inferiors following his example; wilbe the like, for ſuch huſband ſuch wife, ſuch father; ſuch childrē, & ſuch maiſters ſuch ſeruants, ſo is it commonly ſeene [...] & ſo were he neuerſo ſubtle witted or indued with neuer ſo great abundance, one way or other al wold quickly go to wrach, & come to nothing, & for as much as the welth of y• huſband doth chiefely depēd vpon the good behauiour of his wife, in y• diſpoſing of his houſhold affairs, I wold aduiſe you to be careful in all honeſt order to conſerue & increſe y• which your huſband ſhall get, & not to ſpend ſuper fluouſly vpon ſuch trifles & toyes as are but ſpurs to prouoke pride, which is the pathway to perdition, whereof the wife (being the cheefeſt member of her huſbands body,) ſhall be the fyrſt that ſhall feele the ſmart of it, when exchanging her gorgious garments for a pore patched cote, her ſine dellicate diſhes for ſuch ſcraps [Page] as ſhe can get for Gods ſake, her ſoft fetherbeds, and beds of downe, for a Pallet of ſtraw, her gorgious buildinges, for a ſilly ſheepe cote, or ſuch like, to be brought to that extremity, that ſhe ſhall rather wiſh to dye then line in that miſerable eſtate, when hauing bene a miſtreſſe of manye ſeruauntes in her youth, ſhe ſhall her ſelfe in her olde age, be faine to be a ſlaue and ſeruaunt to ſuch as ſometime ſhe could commaund, for it is no doubt, a right miſerable and wretched ſtate, atorment intollerable, and a greefe in erplicable, after ſo great plenty, to feele ſuch extreame pennry, but it is thee meeteſt reward for them that wil not take heede before hande, to repent them afterward when it is to late, for when the ſteede is ſtolne, it is no time to ſhutte the ſtable dore, and it is moſt certaine, one far from their good, are neare to their harme, for euery man baſteth the fut hog, but the leane ſhall burne before he be baſted, my meaning is, and it is dayly ſeene, that he that hath enough ſhal haue more, he that hath a little ſhall haue leſſe, but hee that hath nothing at all of himſelfe, let him be ſure that hee ſhall get nothing of another, wherfore (if you couet to be accounted wiſe and vertuous) knowing how great an ennemye ſhee is to her ſelfe, and into how many daungers ſhe intrudeth herſelf that is negligent and care to conſerue her huſbands goods, you will rather forbeare thinges neceſſary then you would be any hinderaunce to your huſbands profit, yea, & trauaile al that you can to increſe his ſtock, rather then one whit to deminiſh it, wiſely waighing that if any thing happen to her huſband, otherwiſe then well, ſhe is not one of the laſte, as I ſayde before, which ſhall feele the ſmart of it. And thus praying you to print theſe precepts in your hart for feare to be o [...]e [...] cedious, I leaue to trouble you anye more at this time.

Finis.

A pore yong mau being vehemently vexed for the loue of a fyre yong Gentlewoman, craueth her fauour for the conſeruation of his lyfe, almoſt conſumed.

[Page]

SO rare is your bewtye, bountie and grace that as the Adamante draweth yron vnto it, ſo doeth the ſame draw the mindes of men vnto you, and like Cirſes charmes, tranſporte them into what likeneſſe you liſt.

What maruaile is it then though manye worthy Gentlemen being bleared with the bright beames thereof, be inforced for the appeaſemente of their paine, to ſeeke all meanes poſſible to purchaſe your gracious good will and fauour.

But my good miſtreſſe, amongſt ſo many that haue made ſute vnto you, I maruaile you make choyſe of none, peraduenture it is becauſe you cannot conceiue any conſtancye or faithful fidelitye to be [...] in them, if it be ſo, behold I am he that can and will, if you pleaſe, ſupply that wante in you, & as you ſhold wel know, if you made profe of me, I doubt not but you ſhould find me ſuch a one, as in all reſpectes, would ſufficiently ſatiſfy your minde, yea, and ſo content you, as the choyſe of me, ſhoulde not once mooue you to chaunge, the baſeneſſe of my byrth be any blemiſhe to your dignitie, or your gentle accceptance to my offered curteſye, moue you to repente you of ſo gracious a deede. Pardon me I pray you, if in this my rude writing, I haue committed anye crime, or done that which is contrarye to duty, and impute the fault onely to loue, whoſe burning flames hauing long tyme boyled in my breſt, not being able now, any longer to concele the ſame, I am thorow vehemency of the paine, that thereby oppreſſeth my pore penſiue hart, enforced at the laſt, in hope of redreſſe, to reueale [Page] my hidden greefes vnto you, being the onely Miſtreſſe of my health, life and libertie, without whoſe grace or mine owne great perrill may not poſſiblye be repreſſed, nor my paines appeaſed, for if they coulde, then eyther feare of youre diſpleaſure, reaſon or duty woulde haue deteined me from this my preſent purpoſe, and preſumptious attempt, and not haue permitted mee with woe to wade ſo farre, in ſo daungerous a Sea, ſeing therefore that the paſſion which oppreſſeth me is ſo paynefull, the fyre that waſteth me ſo vehement, the cauſe proceeding from you, and the remedy reſting only in your hands, I thinke you cannot be ſo cruell harted, but that pitty will moue you in the ende, to rue the callamitye that youre poore Seruaunt hath for your ſake ſo long ſuſtayned, and to haſten the remedy for his releefe, that with the dewe of grace iſſuing from your moſte delicate bodye, you may ſpeedilye quenche that conſuming fyre, whiche ſo continuallye inflameth his harte with deſyre to doe ſuche ſeemelye ſeruice as ſhall be acceptable vnto you, who accoumpting all payne but pleaſure that hee ſuſtaineth for your ſake, yeeldeth himſelfe wholye vnto your clemencye, to render him the finall ſentence of lyfe or death, which her dayly expecteth.

Finis.

How fooliſh women are in the choyſe of their Louers.

THe Smith whoſe toyling trade,

beſmeard his face with ſweat,

And made him like a Croyden Knight,

with working in the heate,

More lucky was in loue,

then Hercules the ſtonte,

The one inioyde a dainty Dame,

the other went without,

[Page] Vulcanus had to wife,

the Lady cheefe of loue,

Whoſe paſſing bewty peereleſſe was,

as Paris plaine did proue.

But long Alſides ſerude,

fayre Iole at her will,

In womans weede, and yet did fayle,

to finde her fauour ſtill,

For oft it is the trade

of women, to ellect

Lewde lumpiſh loutes deuoyde of wit,

and wiſer wightes reiect,

A Clowne that from the Cart,

is come in court to ſerue,

In whome there is no kinde of cauſe,

good liking to deſerue,

Shall catch a gallaunt gyrle,

and purchaſe at her handes

That others lack, whoſe faithfull hartes,

were ſcortcht with Cupids brands,

Then let him loue that liſt,

for I will leaue the lure,

Of thoſe lewde Dames whoſe diueliſh driftes,

ſuch curſed cares procure.

Finis.

Damion wrighteth to his friend Sulippo exhorting him to ſeeke preferment whilſt the time ſerueth.

SUrelye my Sulippo, when I remember the poore eſtate wherin thou preſently ſtandeſt, and cōpare it with the miſery of this our age, I cannot but greatlye maruaile to ſee thy ſlackneſſe in ſeeking preferment cōſidering how hard a time it is to attain to any thing, or to kepe y• which wee haue with quietneſſe, euerye one beeing readye to [Page] pull the meate out of an other mans mouth, that happy is he who hath any thing to ſtay vnto, for if he want he ſhall finde few friendes in his neceſſity that will pittie his pouertie or ſet to their handes to helpe him, be his neede neuer ſo great, and therefore in my poore opinion, it is good (as they ſay) to hold open the poke whilſt the pigge is profered, and taking the time whilſt it ſerueth, to ſtryke whilſt the yron is hote, and not with Eſopes Dogge, leauing the fleſhe for the ſhadow, forgoe a thing certayne, for a hope vncertaine, leaſt repentaunce follow, when it is to late, for better it is to haue one byrde in hande, then two in the Buſhe, ſeeing that often times whilſte the Gratie growes the ſteede ſtarues, for hee that hopeth after deade mén ſhoes many times goeth barefoote many things happen betweene the cuppe and the lippe, and therefore diuerſe meanes there may be hereafter to hinder that which may now without any great difficultie, be atchieued ſeeing there is nothing but onely the wante of mayſter Moliſcus good will, to preuent your purpoſe, which by good perſwation and earneſt intreaty, may poſſibly be obteined the rather or yt he ſeeth mayſter Glomerok ſo deſyrous to doe you good, I pray you therefore finde ſome good time, ſo ſoone as conueniently you can, to talke with him about it, for as it greeueth me to ſee the life that now you leade, without either profite or pleaſure, ſo am I very deſyrous to haue you prouide in Sommer, againſt the extremity of the winter, and ſeeke ſomewhat in your youth, to maynetain you in your age, to the end that you may be a comfort, and not a corſie, to the hartes of ſuch your poore friendes, as wiſh you well, who will not fayle to do their vtturmoſt indeuour to further your preferment in all they may.

Thus praying you to remember what I haue written vnto you, and to put it in practiſe ſo ſoone as you maye, I bid you ſafe well.

Finis.

Varinus hauing found in the night time that which pleſed his fancy he commendeth it much, and craueth to be accepted for her ſeruant whom he intyrely loued.

[Page]

THough many much miſlike the long

and weary winter nights,

I cannot but commend them ſtill,

for diuerſe dere delightes,

The night we ſee, brings ſiluer ſleepes,

ſleepe courſeth care away,

Cares being caſt from out the mind,

there harboures happy ioye.

Where ioye aboundes, there helth hath place,

where happy helth doth bide,

There life laſtes long, this proofe ſhewes plaine,

and may not be denyde:

Lo this the happy night procures,

which wrought my wiſhed will,

Therefore I muſt before the day,

preferre and praiſe it ſtill,

But ſome perhaps will maruaile much,

my fond effect to heare,

Let them not ſpare none knowes the cauſe,

why I ſo ſtraunge appeare,

In this my vnacquainted verce,

ſuch darke conceites to write,

Nor neuer ſhall, but onely I,

and ſhe whoſe bewty bright,

Did in the darke beth bleare mine eyes,

and lend me perfect light,

She ſhe it is that knowes full well,

from whence my Muſe proceedes,

Yea ſhe it is that both my bliſſe,

and hale together breedes,

Her preſence doth procure my reſt,

her abſence workes my woe,

[Page] Her chearefull lokes doe cheare my hart,

her ſorrow makes to flow

Whole floodes of teares from out mine eyes,

and killes my hart with care,

Whoſe comly grace and courtious deedes,

doe make her ſeeme as rare

As in the world the Phenix is,

and bleſſed would I count

My ſelfe, and ſay that in good luck,

all others I ſurmount,

Might I but once ſuch grace obtaine

at her ſweete handes, to be

Accepted as a ſeruaunt ſtill,

no more is craude of me,

Which if I might atchieue, no doubt,

I would my ſelfe apply,

To pleaſe her ſo in eche reſpect,

as ſhe ſhould truely trie,

And ſo confeſſe, ſhe neuer found

ſo fyrme a friend before,

Or ſeruaunt of ſuch ſecreſy,

that did eſteeme her more:

What ſo ſhe could commaund or will,

by day or elſe by night,

On ſea or Land I would fulfill,

though death appeard in ſight;

Or all the greefes that griefly ghoſtes,

in Limbo lake ſuſtaine,

Should me aſſayle with furious moode,

to make me to refraine:

Yet ſhould it not withdraw my minde,

from doing her deſyre,

Hap good or ill, what ſo beſide,

I would thereto aſpyre,

And wages none at all Ieraue,

but leaue it to her will.

[Page] According to her curteſy,

her fancy to fulfill.

But when ſhe hath made profe of me,

as ſhe ſhall beſt deuiſe,

And ſees my ſeruice what it is,

if ſhe in any wiſe

Miſlike thereof, let her withdraw

From me her fauour quight,

And vſe what kinde of way ſhe will.

to worke me more deſpight,

For as my health on her dependes,

So if I want her grace,

I loth my lyfe and wiſh for death,

to reaue my rufull race.

Finis.

A pore yong man being in loue with a ritch Gentlewoman, fynding it ſomewhat difficult to obtaine any fauoure at her handes, ſought to ſuppreſſe his fond affection, but could not, wherfore he wrighteth vnto her in effecte as followeth.

THere is nothing in the vniuerſall worlde, that maye more aptly be compared to the hatefull Hidra, then the painefull paſſions of lawleſſe loue, for the Hidra being aſſayled by Hercules, alwayes when he cutte of one of his heades, there ſprang two in the place of it: ſo loue, the more it is ſuppreſſed, the more it increaſeth and groweth ſtill the greater, as is plainly proued by me, though to my payne I reporte it, for conſidering on howe high a place my minde was ſetled, wherevnto to attaine without great pertill, I found it almoſt impoſſible, I ſought by reaſon to remooue it, if I might, but loue ſo abounded, that reaſon bare no [Page] ſway and therefore being, ordeyned as it were by deſtiny to lyue and dye your loyall louer, and poore faythful Seruaunte howeſoeuer it ſhall pleaſe you to diſpoſe of mee, yea, though I neuer gaine any grace at all at your handes, yet muſt I perforce ſtill perceuer in the ſame, what ſoeuer betyde me, deſyring rather to dye to confyrme my conſtancye, then lyue and lacke your friendlye Fauoure, whereby I am onely ſuſtayned, knowing that when my vnhappye death, ſhall happen to come to youre hearing, it will moue ſuch remorce in youre harte, conſidering that the cauſe proceeded from your ſelfe, as you cannot but be greatly greeued, for the ſmall regarde you hadde of ſo faithfull a friend, and then, when it is to late will repent you of your great ingratitude.

Be not therfore ſo obſtinately bent (I beſeech you) to ſeeke his confuſion that woulde accoumpte all payne but pleaſure, which he ſhoulde ſuffer in ſeeking your ſafetye, conſyder in what caſe your deuine bewtye hath broughte him; and be not ſo careleſſe of his welfare as you will ſuffer him to periſhe for wante of pittie that cannot receiue any comforte but by your clemencye, which to denye him, weare extreame crueltye, and woulde procure your perpetuall infamy. The rather for that the remedye reſted in you, and that my grefe being taken in time might be eaſily cured, to my comfort and your contentment, as you ſhal be forced in the end of your ſelfe to confeſſe, if you haue pittie vpon me, as I hope you will, wherein being fully reſolued, I reſt for euer.

Your pore faithfull friend and obedient ſeruaunt.

The great loue that Itafernes wyfe bare to her brother.

[Page]

WHen I tafernes with all his famely,

Were taken captiue By Darius army,

And caſt into priſon with great extremity,

His wife euery day,

Came to the kings gate making pittifull mone,

That theſe her plaints to take pittie vpon,

At laſt he was moued with [...]rcye alone,

As wrighters doe ſay,

In ſo much a [...] one vnto her he ſent,

Who willed hee then with right good intent,

In the Kings name to [...]caſt to lament,

And freelye to choſe

The deliuery of one, and ſhe ſhould him haue,

Then ſhe [...] the reſt, her Brother did craue,

Whoſe life and libertie ſhe moſt ſought to ſaue,

To leſſen her woes.

The King then wondring that ſhe would prefer

Her Brother before the reſt that were there,

[...] and children moſt deare,

This aunſwere ſhe gaue,

An other huſband I may get quoth ſhee,

And other Children if Gods will it be,

But my Parentes being dead, more bretheren then he,

I neuer can haue.

A Louer that ſtoode at an vncertaine ſtaye, wrighteth this for aunſwere to a Letter that he receyued from her whome he loued.

MYſtreſſe [...] I receiued your Letters whiche [...] vnto me ſo [...] as I a [...] thereby broughte as it were into a [...] [...] of whiche I knowe not [Page] well how to winde me. Some time you giue me hope, and by and by croſſe me with the contrary, your wordes are ſo obſcure, as my ſimple capacitye cannot conceiue the meaning of them, plaine dealing is beſt among friendes, good meaning muſt not be couered with a counterfet collour, I haue made you an honeſt demaund, but can receiue [...] certaine aunſwere of it, if you thinke mee vnworthye of you, let me vnderſtand it in plaine ſpeeches, and I will ſoone ſeace my fute, for if you cannot fancy me, I neither maye, nor will inforce you to it.

If you like of my demaunde, driue mee not of with doubtfull delayes, for that is very daungerous.

Your vertuous education, and commendable quallityes, are the onely cauſes that haue conſtrained me to loue you. for the which I more eſteeme you (being as you are) then otherwiſe I woulde doe, weare you neuer ſo welthye, you ſay my ſute is reaſonable, and yet ye reproue it as vnprofitable, you confeſſe me to be worthy of you, and yet refuſe to render your ſelfe vnto me, being the partie, whome aboue all other I chiefely deſyre, and would moſt willingly poſſeſſe, if ſo it pleaſed you. In deede I confeſſe, that good deliberation and carefull conſideration is to bee had in ſo waighty a cauſe which I had in remembraunce, before I made anye motion thereof vnto you, yet if there bee anye thing that I haue neglected, if you would let me vnderſtād wherein, and what it is, it ſhould be better reſpected, and being amiſſe, moſt willingly amended. And whereas you refuſe to yeeld your conſent without the counſel of others, to aſke councel in any thing, it is commendable, and to follow it (if it be good) is right profitable, but whoſe counſell you craue I know not, [...]les it be your parentes, which if it be, the ſame I hope wil not be contrary to my contentation: yet do I not ſo much depend vpon that, as I will thefore ſeeke to them, before I haue aſſayed you, & haue ſome aſſuraunce the thing, I ſeeke for, which is only in [...] to graunt, and without you cannot be [Page] obteyned, or if it be, it muſt be by compulſion, & then were a mā better be without it, for forced mariages haue neuer good effect: But peraduenture you haue ſome further purpoſe in it, then I am priuy vnto, it may be that you imagin my good will to be grounded vpon ſo light an occaſyon, as gaining my purpoſe, I would quickly flie from my former profeſſions, make more haſte in the matter then reaſon requyreth, or vſe ſome drifte to deceiue your preſent expectation, but how farre my good meaning is from theſe imaginations, God and myne own conſcience only knoweth, you challenge me as if I had bene ouer lauiſhe of my langwage in blazing things abrode, that are not yet brought to paſſe which if I ſhould doe (as I take God to witneſſe. I haue not) I might worthely be condemned for a foole, & ſerue as a laughing ſtock to all men, that ſhal ſee it fal out otherwiſe hereafter. And therefore I beſeech you put ſuch imaginations out of your minde, and condemn me not as guiltye before you haue cauſe to accuſe me. And in concluſion I hartily beſeech you, not to trifle oute the time anye longer, but to render me a ready aunſwere to that whiche I demaund of you, howſoeuer it be, I care not, for I can better brooke a flat refuſall, then ſuffer my ſelfe to be fedde with fooliſh hope, for a thing ſo vncertaine: and therefore where ſubtlely you ſay at the foote of your letter (yours, for ſo it may be) henceforward either refuſe me flatly or elſe put downe plainely in the place of it (yours I am & wilbe) ſo ſhall you both ſatiſfy me ſufficiently, and alſo greatlye eaſe your ſelf of the trouble that my tedious writing (if ſo you accoumpte it doth preſentlye put you vnto, and ſo fare you well.

The ſtraunge pangs of a pore paſſionate Louer.

NOt as I am, nor as I wiſh to be,

But as falce Fortune frames mytroward fate,

[Page] Euen ſo I am not bound nor fully free

Not quite forlorne, nor yet in quiet ſtate,

I wiſh for death, and yet the death I hate,

This life leade I, which life is wondrous ſtrannge,

yet for no life would I my lyfe exchaunge,

I ſeeke the ſight of that I ſigh to ſee,

I ioy in that which breedes my great vnreſt,

Such contraries doe dayly comber me,

As in one thing I find both ioy and reſt,

Which gaine he gets that is Cupidos gueſt,

For whome he catcheth in his curſed ſnare,

He giues great hope yet kils his hart with care,

Finis.

Of the thankefulneſſe of a Dragon towardes a man that had brought him vp.

AS Bruſon mention makes,

one Thoas in his youth

Brought vp a Dragon yong,

and of a certain truth,

when as he greater grne,

fearing his nature fell,

Conuaide him thence into a woode,

and left him there to dwell,

It hapned after Thoas was,

within that wood beſet

with many Theeues, at which ſelf time

not making ſtay or let,

when as the Dragon heatd his voyce,

which he remembred tho,

He ruſhed forth and reſcued him.

from thoſe that wiſht his wo.

Finis.

R. D. Being inflamed with the loue of a very bewtifull Gentlewoman, by a ſodaine view that he tooke of her, doth colourably declare his caſe vnto her.

[Page]

AS late I walkte abrode for my delight,

To put all [...]ooliſh fancies from my minde,

It was my chaunce vpon a plot to light,

Wherein I did great cauſe of comfort fynde,

A goodly Garden garniſht euery where,

with fragrant flowers of ſondry ſort and ſent.

No ſtraunge deuice could be that wanted there,

That euer wit of man might well inuent,

A goodly chriſtall ſpring ran through this place,

whoſe bankes with ſundry trees was brauely dec [...],

To ſhew ech thing by courſe, would craue long ſpace,

And yet ſome part I ſhould of force neglect,

But that which made me moſt of all to muſe,

was to behold ech thing ſo well conuaide,

And could not finde that any one did vſe,

To make abode therein, yet halfe afrayde

(Though cauſe were none) I durſt not enter in,

But ſtoode as one amaſde, this ſight to ſee,

That whoſoeuer then had preſent bene,

would not haue thought that life had lodgde in me,

My ſences failde, my feete were fixed faſt,

My ſight waxt dimme, yet ſtaring ſtoode I ſtill,

But comming to my ſelfe againe at laſt,

And ſeing there no ſigne of any ill,

Nor none that would my paſſage once reſtraine,

But that the gates wide open ſtoode to all,

I baniſht feare which earſt procurde my paine,

And did determine what ſo ſhould befall,

To enter in, and view it round about,

And ſo I did in deede without anoyt,

[Page] For nothing was there which I neede to doubt,

But all thinges turnde vnto my treble ioy.

when as I fully had ech thing ſuruaide,

And fed my fancy as it likte me beſt,

Into an Arbour I my ſelfe conuaide,

And there lay downe to take my quiet reſt,

Into a heauy ſleepe ſtraight wayes I fell,

And then me thought there did appeare in place

Two gallant Dames, whoſe bewty did excell,

whereof the one beholding long my face,

At laſt with ſtealing ſteppes approcht more neare,

And drawing forth a knyfe in dreadfull wiſe,

Did pierce the part which I eſteemde moſt deare,

which done from of the ground ſhe gan to ryſe,

And by and by did vaniſh out of ſight,

which way or how, I could not well perceiue,

Wherewith I wakened (being ſore afright)

So much it did my quiet reſt beleaue,

And then my naked body I behilde,

To ſec if any wound would there appeare,

But euery place with fleſh was fully filde,

No wound was ſeene, ech place was fayre and cleare,

But when I roſe, with mind to walke from thence,

Such gri [...]ly greefe did gripe my tender hart,

As for a time it hindred my pretence,

And from that place I ſcarce had power to part,

yet as I could, although my paſe were ſlowe,

I at my lodging did at laſt ariue,

And layde me downe in greefe which ſtill did grow,

And greater waxe, and happy helth depriue,

I ſought Phiſitions helpe, my hurt to heale,

But Phiſick could no whit at all preuaile,

And therefore ſtill I muſt the ſame conceale,

And as a wight forlorne my wee bewayle,

Untill the louely Dame that did the deede.

Uouchſafe her grace to eaſe my preſent greefe.

[Page] In her it lyes my bitter bale to breede,

Or if ſhe pleaſe to render me releefe,

which if ſhe once refuſe I am right ſure,

My lothed lyfe that hope doth now prolong,

Shall not long time be able to indure,

But die I muſt, becauſe ſhe doth me wrong.

Finis.

An aunſwere to a Letter that was not onely darke, but alſo ſo diſordered, as their could no ſence be perceiued in it.

VNloked for, I did receiue of late,

Such lynes as led me into double doubt,

Fyrſt whence they came, and from what minyon mate,

And ſecondly I muſed where about,

And for what cauſe they ſhould to me be ſent,

But when I had peruſde them ouer well,

was neare the nere in knowing thy intent,

For ſuch a ſenceleſſe tale thou ſeemdſte to tell,

And ſo confuſe, as what I ſhould couceiue.

Of any part thereof I knew not I,

To ſtayed Studients I the ſame will leaue,

By learned ſkill the ſecrete ſence to trie,

Unleſſe that thou that didſt deuiſe the ſame,

wilt take the paines to gloſe vpon the text,

And ſet to ſhew the figures thou didſt frame,

Whereby it ſeemes thy mind is much perplext,

For neither doth the matter match aright,

Nor yet the vearce but varries euery where,

I ſpeake in ſport, no cauſe I haue to ſpight,

And as thou wiſht, ſo with thy want I beare,

Loue is a lawleſſe Lord, both he and his

Are free from blame what ſo they doe or ſay,

And therefore though they ſometime rome amis,

That once haue leaned to his luckleſſe lay.

[Page] The fault is in the troward fittes they feele,

which leades their mindes to like of many thinges,

And ſtill to turne as doth the whirling wheele,

where of the fruicte of folly freely ſprings,

Thy worthy worke may well compared be,

Unto A building brauely deckt without,

The inward partes whereof, who ſo ſhall ſee,

May finde it framde of clay and durt no doubt,

For on the ſame when fyrſt myne eyes I bent,

The entraunce bare ſo braue a modeſty,

That ſure I thought ſome Muſe the ſame had ſent

From Helicon to pleaſe my fantaſy,

But when I had a little further paſt,

Such paltrie pelfe preſented was to me,

As braue me into other thoughtes at laſt,

So great a chaunge ſo ſodainly to ſee,

But borrowed ware will beare no better ſhow.

Au Ape's an Ape, though robes be neare ſo ritche,

The good from bad a man may eaſily know,

This makes thee claw whereas thou doeſt not itch,

well galdback well, although I rubde thee now,

If that thou winche, I way it not a might,

Such cloked cunning can I not allow,

Halt not henceforth when Criples are in ſight,

For truſt to this thy Peacockes borrowed tayle,

Cannot ſo craftely be coucht on thee,

But that the fine deuice thereof will fayle,

If it be matchte with thoſe that kindly be,

In fine I wiſhe thee if thy mind be moude,

To beare the matter more at large ſet out,

which to prouoke thou haſt ſo blindlye proude,

Then make it plaine, and cleare it cleane of doubt.

Let fineneſſe goe and vſe no ſecrete ſlight,

To couer that which cannot be conſealde,

And then will I as well pluck vp my ſprightes,

To open that I haue not yet reuealde,

Finis.

C. L. Wrighting to a ſpeciall Friende of his, that was ſomewhat greeued in minde, for certaine troubles that were happened vnto him, geneth him ſuch friendly conſolation as was riquiſite for one in his caſe.

[Page]

SIr I am well aſſured, that in ſeeking to giue councell to one ſo wiſe, and conſolaon to one of ſuch conſtancy as you are, I ſhall rather reape reproch for my raſhnes then anye wayes purchaſe praiſe for my good meaning.

And although you that know what cauſe moued mee there vnto, doe not ſo conceiue it, yet they that ſhall heare reporte thereof, being ignoraunte of the greate good will that I heare vnto you, will be ready to imagine the worſte of it.

But let them thinke what they liſt, I had rather that all others ſhoulde accuſe me of preſumtion, then that you ſhould haue iuſt cauſe to condemne me of ingratitude, or thinke my friendſhip to be of ſmall effect. And therefore though that I wright, be not ſuch as ſhould ſeeme to proceede from a man indued with greate learning, and wiſedome, yet being well aſſured that whatſoeuer it bee, you will acceptablely receiue it, and conſter it to the beſt, I will not fayle either by that or any other meane I may, at all times to manifeſt my good meaning vnto you, and the willing minde I haue to doe you good, ſo farre forth as my weake witte and ſmall habillitye can reach vnto. It is not at al to be doubted, but y• miſeries that raine in this wretched world are very many, and very great, but as they are neceſſary meanes to make vs knowe our ſelues, and acknowledge the weakeneſſe of our humaine nature, ſo ſhould wee pacientlye tollerate the troubleſome toyles [Page] and cormentes thereof, as it is the part of a wyſe and well diſpoſed perſon alwayes to doe.

What though you be now forbidden the court whereyou haue long time liude in great eſtimation▪ wil you therfore ſo vnmeaſurably vex & torment your ſelfe? as though your ſorrow ſhould neuer take end. It were no doubte a thing cleane contrary to your wiſedome & grauitie, and would be a great diſgrace to your noble nature, & the haughtineſſe of your liberall hart, to be found vnable by the rule of reaſon to reſiſt the fierce aſſaultes of froward Fortune: For as in time of proſperity you gouerned your ſelfe with great modeſty, ſo ſhould you now that the contrary is happened, be armed with as great pacience to ſuſtaine the ſeniſter and ſorrowfull euents that this wretched world rendreth vnto all them that therein haue their abiding. Aſſure your ſelfe that thoſe of your friends which now remain in the court, are well contented that you haue ſo forſaken it, withoute hope euer to retourne againe, not becauſe they are willing to wante youre companye, for that is the thing they cheefely couet, but becauſe they knowe the miſery of that place to bee ſuche, as it ſhoulde rather bee ſhunted, then ſought for by all thoſe that loue to leade a quiet and peaceable life.

And I am well aſſured, that if you had the power to enter into the hartes of men to ſearch their ſecrete thoughts you ſhould find thoſe of the Court accompanied with ſuch continuall cares, frighted with ſuch fearefull fancies, and fraught with ſuch follyes, ſubiect to ſo many daungerous diſcommodities and perplexed with ſuche ſtraunge and perrillous paſſions, as you your ſelfe ſince your departure from the Court neuer aſſayed the lyke, but would bee foreed to confeſſe that their greefes doe farre ſurmount your owne.

Now by how much more greeuous and difficult it is to ſee then to heare thoſe thinges that moleſt the mynde if by meanes of the miſeries & callamities of this wretched [Page] world, which ſo greatly diſturbeth the quiet ſtate of all earthly creatures, you ſuppoſe one place more painefull and troubleſome to continue in then an other, by ſo much ſhould you thinke the ſame to be in the Courte rather then any where elſe: for ſurely ſo it is, as your ſelfe know right well, what ſemblaunce ſoeuer you ſeeme to make to the contrary. But you wright ſometime like a Gnato enforced of neceſſitye either to praiſe that whiche is praiſe worthy, or to doe that which is not deſent, but deſeruing great blame: both which are cleane contrary to your natural inclination. Such is the wretchedneſſe of our age, that euery one eſteemeth his owne eſtate to be moſte miſerable, what though men diſpoyle you of thoſe tranſitory ritches which Fortune ſometime gaue you in great aboundance, yet can they not bereaue you of that rare and renowned ritches, to wete, the excellent vertues of the mynde, whiche God and Nature hath ſo graciouſly grafted in you from the beginning, as they cannot by any meanes be altred or chaunged but do continually grow and increaſe in you, & are ſufficiente though all thinges elſe were wanting, for a hart conducted by honour, and gouerned by reaſon, to liue wel and happily withall.

Thus much haue I thought good to write vnto you to make proofe of your wiſedome, to the end ſhe ſhould again receiue into her handes the reine of reaſon, which ſhe had of late let ſlip, whereby you were driuen for wante of her good guiding to wander out of the right way, whiche you haue ſo long indueoured to follow. I pray you wright oftener vnto me, but let your letters conteine more myrth, then thoſe that heretofore you haue ſent mee, to the ende that I may finde for my ſatiſfaction that my words were of the force to remoue from you al careful cogitations, and fill your mynde with ioy and gladneſſe, praying the Almighty to graunt you your health and hartes deſyre in all things.

Finis.

A yong Gentleman whoſe loue was hindred by falce reportes, wrighteth to his Lady that had promiſed her good will, ſo her friendes would agree vnto it.

[Page]

THe poore wearied Traueyler that after long ſayling the Seas in no ſmall daunger, and at the laſt attaineth to the wiſhed Hauen, is blowne backe againe and brought into greater perrils then before, may moſt eaſily iudge the greatneſſe of my greefes, who being raiſed to the toppe of all felicity by the fauour I found at your friendly hands for furtheraunce of my deſyred comforte, I am nowe by myne owne euill deſteny & the mallice of malicious makebates, who more reſpecting their owne priuate profit then honeſt reputation, the rather to preferre thoſe that they like better of, haue raiſed ſuch ſlaunderous reports againſt me, vtterly voyde of truth, as haue mooued them to miſlyke, that of late liked well of me, wherby I am driuen into ſuch dangerous doubtes, as if your good nature (which I know cannot conceiue any ill of them that deſerue wel) did not ſomewhat releeue me, all hope of comforte would quickly die in me, and my cares ſo greatly abound, as my harte ſhould neuer be able to harbour ſuch ioy as is meete for my yong yeares.

Your mother as I heare, is ſo incenſed againſt mee, as not withſtanding the many reaſons alleaged, and playne profes made to the contrary, ſhe will not reuoke that euill opinyon which the falſe perſwations of lewde perſons hath cauſed her vniuſtly to conceiue of me, but let her or any other thinke of me what they liſt, ſo long as I knowe my ſelf cleare of crime, and may be aſſured of your fauour I care not it all the world were bent againſt me, for as you are the firſt that euer my fancy coulde frame to lyke of, ſo I aſſure you, if my faithfull meaning find not good effecte [Page] courteſy, which was ſo greatly commended, hoping that at the leaſt, you will afoord me a friendly anſwere, though I fayle of that which may better concent me, I know ther be many of greater wealth that you maye match withal if you will, but I am certaine that if you ſhoulde ſeeke thorow out the whole worlde it were not poſſible for you to fynde one that would ſo well account of you, or be more carefull for your commodity then I would be, if it mighte be my good happe to inioy you, with whome you might be aſſured to lead a more quiet and better contented lyfe, then with one whoſe parentes hath left him a large patrimony, of euill gotten goods, which is commonly as ill ſpent. And therefore if there be in me that may contente you, or it your fancy can frame to lyke of mee as I am, let mee finde it by your friendly aunſwere, whiche I wil expect with aſſured hope to find it in all thinges agreeable to my good deſyres, that greatly couet to be accoumpted.

Wholy yours, or not to be at all.

Finis.

Seigneor Franciſco Vergelis, for a fayr ambling gelding, ſuffered one Seigneor Richardo Magniffico to talk with his wife, who gaue him no aunſwere at all, but he aunſwering for her, in ſuch ſort as if ſhe her ſelf had ſpoken it, according to the effect of his wordes, it came afterwards to paſſe.

MAny there are that conceiue ſo well of themſelues, as in reſpect of their owne wiſedome and knowledge, they thinke all other men to be but fooles, and voyd of vnderſtanding, [Page] and yet my oftentimes ſee, [...] thoſe fiue headed followes whilſt they [...]deuour by their ſubtle deuiſes, to deceiue others, are in the end moſt deceiued themſelues.

And therefore many opinyon he is worthy much blame, that goeth about by ſuche indirect meanes, to make more narrow [...] of other mens wits thru is [...]. And for more perfect proofe of their folly, you ſhall heare what happened to a Knight of Piſtoy, vpon the like occaſion.

In the Cittie of Piſtoy hard by Florence, there was ſometime amongſt the famely of the Vergeleſies, a Knight called Franſiſco, a man very rich, wiſe, and well experimented in many matters, but there withall beyonde all meaſure couetous. Hee hauing occaſion to goe to Millan to be Potentate there, was prouided of all thinges fitte for his purpoſe, and agreeable to the honorable eſtate he was called vnto, ſaue onely of an [...]ling Selding, for himſelf to ride vpon, and could get [...] to his contentmence, but that he alwayes thoughte the price to great that he ſhould pay for it. There was the ſame time in Piſtoy a yong man named Richardo, decended of a baſe parētage, but yet very riche who for the neatneſſe and brauery that he vſed in his apparrell, was of euery man cōmonly called Magniffico, & had of long time loued, & diuerſe times courted (without any comforte of that he craued) the wife of Seigneor Franſiſco, that was exceeding fayre, & withall very honeſt.

Now it ſo happened, that this Magniffico had the fayreſt ambling gelding in all Tuſcan, which for the bewtye and goodneſſe of it, he highly eſteemed: And being manifeſtlye knowne, throughout the cittie, that he was enamoured of the ſayde Lady, there was ſome that told Seigneor Franſiſco yt if he woulde requeſt it in gift, he might eaſily obtain it for the loue he bare vnto his wife. Seigneor Franſiſco burning with auirice, ſent to ſeeke Magniffico, and requeſted to buy his Horſe, to the end hee ſhoulde offer to giue it him. Magniffico hearing this, was very well pleaſed, and aunſwered: Syr if you would giue mee all that euer you [Page] [...] world I would not ſell him, but yet you may haue him in gifte if you pleaſe, vpon the condition, that before you haue him. [...]uay with your leane, & in your preſence [...] to your wi [...]ſo farre from you, that none may [...] only ſhe, Seigneor Franſiſco being led by couetouſnes, and hoping to delude Magniffico, anſwered that he was very welcontent whēſoeuer he wold, and hauing left him in the hall, hee wente to his wiues Chamber and cold her howe eaſilye hee might obtaine the ambling Gelding, commaunding her to come and heare what Magniffico would ſay, but not to anſwere him to any thing that hee ſhoulde alledge vnto her. The Ladye miſliked much of this practiſe, but yet being bound to obay her huſbandes mind, ſhe promiſed to do it, and followed him into the Hall, to heare what Magniffico woulde ſay.

Who hauing againe confyrmed the couenaunte, made with her huſband, ſet himſelfe downe by her, in one of the Corners of the hall, farre ynough from any body, and began to ſay in this manner.

Madame, I know your wiſedome to be ſuch, as I am wel aſſured, you haue long ſince plainely perceiued how great the loue is, that your bewty (which paſſeth without compariſon all other that euer I ſaw) hath conſtrained mee to beare vnto you, I leaue to ſpeake of the commendable quallities and rare vertues that remain in you, whiche haue power to vanquiſh the moſt hawty hart in the whole world, wherefore it is not needefull by wordes to declare vnto you, that the loue I beare you, is farre greater and more feruent, then euer man bare to any other woman liuing, whereby I am almoſt brought to that paſſe, that my miſerable life is ſcarcely able to ſuſtaine my poore weakened members, and yet dare I be bolde to ſaye more vnto you, that if it be lawfull for men to loue when they are dead, as they may doe being aliue, I will loue you for euer.

[Page] And therefore you may well aſſure youre ſelfe, that you haue nothing whatſoeuer it be, either deare or good cheape that you may ſo well eſteeme your owne, or make ſo ſure accoumpt of, as of me, and of that I may be, and ſemblably of al that euer I inioy, and to the end you may be the more certain of that I ſay, I aſſure you I ſhould accoumpt it for a ſinguler fauour that you would vonchſafe to commaund me any thing that I am able any way to performe, and may be agreeable to your good liking, for whatſoeuer it were, though all the world ſhould ſaye and ſwere the contrarie I would ſurely put it in practiſe.

Now Madame being ſo muche youre owne, as you heare I am, I take boldneſſe (not without great reaſon) to addreſſe my prayers to your highneſſe, on whome onelye, and on none other, my reſt welth and ſafety wholy dependeth, and as your moſt humble ſeruaunt, I humbly beſech you, my deareſt good & ye only hope of my loue, which nouriſheth it ſelfe in the amourous fyre, hoping in you, that your good will ſhall be great, and your rigour (whiche you haue of long time extended towardes mee that am youre own,) ſo mollified, that feeling my ſelfe recomforted by your compaſſion, I may ſay that as by your be wyte I became amourous, ſo doe I thereby alſo inioy the lyfe (which if your hauty hart incline not to my prayers) would without doubt be in ſuch ſort conſumed, as I ſhoulde ſhortelye dye, and ſo might you be called and accoumpted the Murtherer of me, and yet ſhould my death be no honor at al vnto you, notwithſtanding I beleeue that when at any time, the ſame ſhould come to youre hearing, you woulde ſaye to your ſelfe.

Alas what euill haue I done, in not hauing compaſſyon of my Magniffico, and beeing then to late to repente you of any thing that is paſt, it will be vnto you an occaſion of very great greefe. Wherfore to the end that it come not ſo to paſſe, haue now ſome compaſſion vpon mee, and before I be paſt remedy, render me that which may releue [Page] me, for in you onelye doth it reſt to make mee the moſte contented, or moſt diſcoutented Creatureliuing, hoping alwayes that your curteſy ſhall be ſo great, as you wil not ſuffer me to receiue death, for recompence of ſuche and ſo great good will, as I beare vnto you, but will with a ioyfull and gracious aunſwere, recomforte my pore ſprightes which altogither ouercome with feare, doe tremble at your preſence.

Then Magniffico making an ende, and hauing ſhedde ſome teares, after many greeuous ſighes, he began to harken what the Lady wold anſwere, now ſhe whom neither the long ſutes made vnto her, the Iuſtes and Turneyes, nor loſt time, or anye ſuch like thing which Magniffico had done, for the loue of herre, had neuer before mooued anye thing at all to loue him, was nowe mooued therevnto by the effectuall words vttered by her moſte feruente Louer, and began to feele that which ſhe had neuer felt before, and iudged this to proceede only of loue, and though to fulfill the charge that her huſbande had giuen her, ſhee held her peace, notwithſtanding by the ſecret ſighes which ſhe ſent forth it mighte eaſilye bee coniectured what aunſwere ſhe would willingly haue made to her beloued Magniffico, if ſhe might.

He hauing a while attended her aunſwere, and perceiuing that ſhee aunſwered nothing at all, greatlye mernailed, and beganne to perceiue the deceipte and ſubtiltie of her huſband, but yet in regarding her countinance and perceiuing ſome glaunces of her eyes caſt vpon him, & beſides that, remembring the ſighes which ſhee ſent foorth from the bottome of her hart, he receiued ſome good hope, And building herevppon bethought himſelfe, and then began to aunſwere her, as though ſhe her ſelfe had ſayde, in this manner.

Friend Magniffico, I did long ſince ſurmiſe that thy loue towardes me was very great and perfecte, and nowe am more certaine of it by thy words, whiche are of farre [Page] greater force wherewith I am as well contented as may be, notwithſtanding if it ſeeme vnto thee, that I haue hitherto bene hard and cruell vnto thee, yet woulde I not haue thee to thinke that my harte hath bene ſuche as my countinance hath ſhewed me to be, but rather y• I haue loued and held thee more deare then any other, but it was meete I ſhould for y• time conceale it, as well for feare of others, as to keepe my good name vnſpotted, but now the time commeth, that I may make thee more plainely to vnderſtand whether I loue thee or no, and giue thee a meete guerdon for the loue which thou, haſt ſo long borne vnto me. Wherefore comfort thy ſelfe, and haue good hope, for Seigne or Franſiſco muſt go within theſe fewe dayes, as Potentate to Millan (as thou thy ſelfe knoweſt) when thou for my ſake haſt giuen him thy good ambling Gelding, and ſo ſoone as he is gone, thou ſhalt be moſt welcome vnto me, and we wil then giue ful accompliſhment to our loue, and therefore haue regarde from henceforth, when thou findeſt two, Kerchefes hanging out of my chamber window ouer the garden; and then in the Euening, when it is ſomewhat darke, repaire thou vnto me, by the garden dore, hauing good regard that no body ſee thee, & there thou ſhalt finde me ready to receiue thee, then will we take our pleaſure togither, all the whole night, and make as greate cheare as we may.

When Magniffico had in the perſon of the Lady ſpoken all this; he began to aunſwere for himſelfe and ſayde.

Deare Lady, my ſpirites are ſo much occupied by the aboundaunt ioy that I conceiue by your wordes, that I can hardlye frame an aunſwere or vtter anye thing, to giue you condigne thankes for the ſame, and if I could, yet ſhould I not finde ſufficient time to gratifie youre good wil as I deſyre, and as it is mere I ſhould, and therfore I beſeeche you, that what ſoeuer I deſyre to do, (& cannot by wordes declare it) you will vouchſafe to conceiue the ſame in your minde. Only I aſſure you, that without faulte I [Page] will performe your charge, & order all my actions according to your good direction, and when meete opportunity ſhall ſerue me, to receiue the fauour whiche you haue ſo freely promiſed, I wil inforce my ſelf in all I may, to yeeld you the greateſt thankes that I am able. And now hauing no more to ſaye vnto you at this preſente, wiſhing you ſuch ioy and welfare as your hart deſyreth, I commit you to God.

For all this the Lady aunſwered not a word wherefore Magniffico riſe & began to retourne towards her huſband who ſeeing him vp, went to meete him, and ſayd O ſyr, what thinke you now? haue I kept promiſe with you? No Syr aunſwered Magniffico, for you promiſed me that I ſhould talk with your wife, & you haue made me to ſpeake with an Image of ſtone.

This anſwere greatly pleaſed Seigneor Franſiſco, who although he had a good opinion of his wife before, yet now he thought better of her then euer he did, and ſaid: but yet the ambling gelding that was yours, is nowe myne. Wherevnto Magniffico aunſwered: yea ſyr, but if I had thought to reape no better Fruite then this, by the fauour I found at your handes, without demaunding the ſame, I would freely haue giuen you my Gelding.

And would to God I had done ſo in deede, for then had I not in ſelling him, bought mine owne ſorrow, nor in ſeeking ſafety, loſt my former liberty.

Seigne or Franſiſco laughed hartely at this aunſwere, and ſeing himſelf ſo wel prouided of an ambler, ſhortly after ſet forward on his iorney towardes Millan.

The Lady then remayning in her houſe all alone, thinking vpon the wordes that Magniffico had before time vſed vnto her, remembring his loue, and how he had for her ſake, giuen her Huſband his good ambling Gelding, ſeing alſo the ſayd Magniffico diuerſe times to paſſe to and fro before her dore, ſhe ſaid vnto her ſelfe.

What ſhall I doe? wherefore ſhould I loſe my youth? my [Page] hand is [...] to Millan, and will not retourne again theſe ſixe mouthes; and when will hee euer bee able to paye his arerages, what when I am old and care not for it? beſides that; when ſhall I euer finde ſuch a friende as Magniffico? I am now alone, and in feare of no body, and if it were knowne, yet is it better to doe it; and afterwarde to repent me, then not to doe it, and to be ſorrye that I did it not.

And hauing thus debated with her ſelf, in the end determining to take the time whilſt it ſerued, ſhe hanged one day two Kerchefes out at the Garden windowe, whiche Magniffico perceiuing (being very glad of it) he wet all ſecretely ſo ſoone as the night was come, to the garden dore and found it open, and from thence went to an other dore which was at the entraunce of the houſe, where he meete with the Lady that attended his comming, who ſeing him come, riſe vp, and went to meete him, and receiued him with great ioy, he hauing kiſſed and imbraſed hee a hundred times, followed her vp the ſtayres into her chamber, where bing ariued, they went by and by to bedde togither and then they knew the fynall end of their loue. And although this were the firſte time, yet was it not the laſt. For whilſt Seigneor Franſiſco was at Millan, and alſo after his retourne, Magniffico, frequented the houſe, to the great comfort and contentment of them both.

Finis.

Theodore enamoured of Maiſter Emories daughter, that was his Maiſter, got her with child, for the which he was condemned to be hanged, and as he was whipped through the Stretes to the place of execution, being knowne to his Father he procured his pardon, and ſo Thodore married the maide whom he had before de flowred.
Whereby is ſignified the diuers dangerous and troubleſome accidentes that dayelye happen vnto vs, by the power of loue, and frailty of fortune the only tormenters of mans life.

[Page]

AT what time the good King William gouerned Sicille, there was dwelling within his dominions a yong Gentleman, named Myſter Emery the Abbot of Trappani, who (amongeſt other wordly goo [...] where with God had (inducd him) had many fayre children, wherfore hauing great neede of Seruauntes, as he came from the eaſt partes, certaine Gallies of Genouiah Pirats, who in coſting Armenia, had taken diuerſe yong children, whome they ment to make money of, being aryued in the Countrey of Leuant at the ſame time that he paſſed thorow it, he bought certaine of them, thinking they had bene Infidels, amongeſt whom though the reſt ſemed to be but Sheapheardes, there was one that appeared to be proceeded of a higher progenye, and to bee of more eſtimations, whoſe name highte. Theodore, who bring growne to mans ſtate, (though he were vſed as a Slaue,) was notwithſtanding brought vp, and nouriſhed with maiſter Emeries owne Children, and inclining more to his naturall diſpoſition then to his preſent Fortune, he began to be very curteous, and well condicioned, whereby he ſo much pleaſed mayſter Emery as hee [Page] made him free, and for that he thought him to be an Infidel, cauſed him to be baptiſed, and named him Peter. And ſo good affiaunce he had in him, that ſhortly after, he committed to his charge all his moſt waighty affayres.

Now as Maiſter Emeries Children increſed, amongſt the reſt, a daughter of his waring very fayre and dellicat, after ſhe had long remained vnmaried, ſeing her parēts ſo ſlow in beſtowing her, at the laſt ſhe fell very far in loue with Peter her fathers man: and as ſhe eſtemed him greatly, and tooke delight in all his doings, ſo was ſhe determined (if ſhame had not withheld her) to giue him vnderſtanding of it. But loue eaſed her of that pain: For Peter hauing therby conceiued ſome ſecrete hope, became ſo enamoured of her, as he neuer thought himſelfe well withoute her company, notwithſtanding hee was ſtill in greate feare leaſte ſome body ſhould perceiue it, thinking that therein he did amiſſe.

The Mayde that eaſily perceiued his inwarde meaning, the better to imbolden him, made ſemblance vnto him (as it was true in deede,) that ſhe allowed of his loue, and was well contented with it.

And in theſe tearmes either of them remained long time without daring to ſay any thing ye one to the other, though they both deſired it very earneſtly. But whilſt they equally conſumed in this amourous flame, Fortune (as if ſhe had willed that which came to paſſe) found out a way to expel the feare, that ſo greatly hindred them. Which was, that Mayſter Emery had not far from the towne of Trappani, a very fayre houſe, wherevnto his wife, with his Daughter and diuerſe other their friends and familliers, reſorted often times to paſſe the time, and make merrye togither, and one day amongſt the reſt, Peter being with her, after they had re mayned there a while, it happened, (as diuerſe times it doth in the ſommer ſeaſon) that the wether ouercaſt, wherefore the Gentlewoman and her company, (becauſe the ſtorme ſhould not take them there) prepared them [Page] ſelues with all ſpeede to retourne to Trappany. But Peter and Violenta that were yong and luſty (peraduenture no leſſe prickt forward by loue, then for feare of the foule wether) ſo farre out rid all the reſt of their company, that they were cleane out of ſight, after a little thunder, there came ſodainely a great Dayle, and withall a foule foggy miſte, which cauſed the old Gentlewoman and all her company to goe back againe with a Peſſant of the countrey. But Peter and the mayde hauing none other refuge, but an old ruinate houſe, that was almoſt al faln to the ground, where no body inhabited, they were forced to enter into it, and there vnder a ſmall conerture, that was yet remaining, they cloſely couched themſelues, to defende the ſtorme, which cloſe couching was an occaſion more fyrmely to vnite their hartes, and alſo the time and place aptly ſeruing them to diſcouer their amourous paſſions. Peter gaue the firſt onſet, and ſaid:

Miſtreſſe Violenta I would to God that it woulde neuer leaue hayling, and that I might ſtill continue in this eſtate.

Wherevnto Violenta replied: Surelye ſo woulde I, and then taking ech other by the hand, and afterwards imbraſing and ſweetelye kiſſing (the Storme ſtill continuing) before they departed from thence they inioyed the finall fruition of their vnfained affection, determining after that more often to take their pleaſure togither.

At the laſt the ſtorme ceaſed, and then they went to the next towne, where they attended the comming of the reſte of their company, that they might go home altogither, and after this, diuerſe times in a wiſe and ſecret manner, they excerciſed their loue, & ſo applyed their buſines, that Violenta grew bigge, whiche greatly diſliked either of them, wherefore ſhe vſed al the meanes ſhe might, to find remedy for it, but it preuailed not.

And therefore Peter fearing to loſe his lyfe, determined to take his flight, and told her of it, which Violenta [Page] hearing, ſware vnto him yt if he went away, ſhe wold ſlay her ſelf. Then Peter that loued her exceeding wel ſayd vnto her. Alas my deare, why wouldſt thou haue me tarry, thy greatneſſe will diſcouer our offence, which being known, thou maiſt eaſily procure thy pardon, but I poore wretth ſhall abide the puniſhment both for thy offence and mine own [...] wherevnto Violenta aunſwered, Peter my of fence muſt needes be known in deede, but as for thine, aſſure thy ſelf (if thou bewray it not) it ſhal neuer be known to any Seing you promiſe me ſo (ſaid Peter,) I wil tarry, but take heede you keepe promiſe with me. Violenta that had couered her [...] crime ſo much as ſhe might, perceiuing yt her belly grue ſo bigge as ſhe could no longer hide it, Diſcouered the ſame one day to her mother (weping vitterly) & beſought her to ſaue her life, her mother greued hereat beyond meaſure, & with a thouſand threatnings demanding who was the authour of it, Violenta to the end that Peter ſhould receiue no hurt thereby, fained an excuſe altogether contrary to ye truth, which her mother beleeued, & to couer her daughters fault, ſent her to a houſe that ſhe had in the country, being there when the time was come yt ſhe ſhold be brought a bed (crying as women vſe to doe) & her mother not thinking that maiſter Emery (who ſildom vſed to paſſe that way) would then come thither, it hapned that as he returned from hunting, and paſſed along by ye chamber where Violenta remained, he ſodainly entred in, maruatling to here her cry in that maner, & demaunded what the matter was. His wife ſeing him there, riſe vp in greate gree foꝭ & told him all that was happened to their daughter, but her (not ſo excudulous as his wife) ſaide it was not poſſible ſhe ſhould be in that caſe, and not know who was the authour of it, & therfore would vnderſtand the truth, for ſo (ſaid he) ſhe may peraduenture purchaſe my fa [...], where otherwiſe, ſhe muſte make account to dye without pitty. His wife fought all he meanes ſhe might, to ſatiſfy her huſband with that which her daughter had ſayd, [...] all [Page] her perſwaſions preuailed not, for running furiouſly with his naked ſword in his hand to his daughter (who whilſte her mother held him in talk,) brought forth her childe, and ſaid vnto her. Tell me who is the father of this chyld, or elſe thou ſhalt preſently die. His daughter dreading death, brake the promiſe which ſhee made vnto Peter, and tolde him how it happened, Mayſter Emery hearing it, became ſo deſperate through extreame anger, that hee could hardly withhold his handes from killing her.

But after hee had ſayde that whiche choller conſtrained him to ſpeake, hee tooke his horſe, and ridde to Trappany.

And hauing recounted all the iniury that Peter had done him, to one Mayſter Conrade, that was Liefetenant for the King in the ſame Towne, hee ſodaynely e cauſed Peter to be taken, before hee doubted it, and examining him of the matter, hee confeſſed all that was done. And beeing within a fewe dayes after condemned by the liefetenant, to be whipped through the Towne, and afterwards hanged.

Mayſter Emery (to the ende to ridde the world at one inſtaunt of the two poore Louers, and their ſillye infant) not hauing yet appeaſed his his wrath, by the death of Peter, which he had ſo procured, hee put poyſon into a cuppe of wine, and deliuerd it to a ſeruaunt of his whom he moſt truſted, and withall a naked Sworde, ſaying.

Goe thy wayes with theſe to Violenta and will her in my name to choſe one of theſe two deaths, either of poyſon or of the Sworde, if not, I will cauſe her to bee burnt, in the face of the world, as ſhe hath well deſerued, and when thou haſte ſo done, take the brat [...]e that ſhe hath brought forth, and hauing daſhed out his braines againſte the wall, caſt him out to be deuoured of Dogges.

When hee hadde giuen this cruell Sentence againſt his Daughter, and his little Nephew, the Seruaunt [Page] more apt to doe ill then good, went to the place where Violenta remained.

Peter being condemned as you haue harde, was drawne & whipped toward the gallowes, & ſo paſſing forward (as it pleaſed thē, yt were the miniſters of iuſtice) ouer againſt an Inne, where at the ſame time were lodged three greate perſonages of Armenia whome the King of that country had ſent to Rome as Ambaſſadors to the Pope, about certaine neceſſary affayres, for a voyage that he had in hande, and being come thither to refreſh and repoſe themſelues for certaine dayes and greatly honoured of all the gentlemen of Trappany, and eſpeciallye of Mayſter Emery.

Theſe Embaſſadoures hearing them to paſſe by, that ledde Peter, came to the windowe to ſee what was the matter.

Peter that was all naked from the girdle vpward, with his handes bound behind him, being dilligentlye marked by one of them, that was a man of good yeares, and greate authority, named Phinec his blood began to riſe through a certain natural motion that he felt within himſelfe, which perceiuing he remembred him of his onelye ſonne that about. xv. yeares before was taken from him by certaine Rouers, on the ſea coſte of Iaſa of whome ſince that tyme he neuer had hard tidinges, and conſidering the age of the pore vnhappy wretch, whome they whipped, hee aduiſed him that if his ſonne were liuing hee ſhoulde bee of the age that he ſeemed to be, wherefore ſeing his boſome, he began to ſuſpec [...]e that it was his ſonne, and thinking that if it were he, he would yet haue ſome remembraunce of his owne name and his Fathers, and of the Armenian tong.

wherefore when he was ouer againſt him, hee called him by the name of Theodore which Peter hearing, by and by lifte vp his head, and then phinee ſpeaking to him in the Armenian tongue, ſayd.

Of whence and whoſe ſonne art thou? The Sergeaunts [Page] that led him, ſtayed in reuerence of the Ambaſſadoures, ſo that Peter aunſwered, I am of Arminia, the ſonne of one named Phinee, and was brought hether by certaine people. I know not of what country.

Which Phinee hearing knewe certainly that it was his ſonne whom he had loſt, wherfore weeping, he came down with his companyons, and ran to imbrace him, amongeſt all the Sergeauntes, and hauing caſt ouer his ſhoulders a ritche mantle that he bore about him, requeſted them that led him to let him loſe, and ſtay the execution, till they heard further of the matter, wherevnto they willingly accorded, and led him backe againe to the place from whence he came.

Now had Phinee by this time knowledge of the cauſe, for the which theyled him in this ſort to hanging, by the ſpeeche of the people, wherefore he wente incontinentlye with his Companions and ſeruauntes, to mayſter Conrade, and ſaid vnto him.

Syr, he whome you ſende to be executed as a Slaue, is a free man, and my ſonne, and is readye to take to hys wyfe, her whome they ſay he hath deflowred, may it therefore pleaſe you to remit the execution, till it be knowne whether ſhe will haue him to her huſband, to the end it be not found (if ſhe he content) that you haue tranſgreſſed the Lawe.

Maiſter Conrade hearing that hee was the ſonne of this Ambaſſador, maruailed greatly, and imputing great fault to Fortune, confeſſed that which Phinee had ſayde, to bee moſte truet So he retourned incontinently to his houſe, and ſent one with all ſpeede, to ſeeke Maiſter Emery, and to tell him all that was happened, mayſter Emery, that thought his Daughter and her yong ſonne were alredye dead, was the heauieſt man in the world, for that which he had done, knowing well that if ſhe were not dead, all that was amis might now be amended, wherfore he ſent with all ſpeede to the place where his Daughter remained, to [Page] the end that if they had not fulfilled his commaundement they ſhould not do it at all, he that went thither, found the ſeruant that mayſter Emery had ſent thither, who hauing ſet the ſword and poyſon befor his Daughter, becauſe ſhee made no haſt to take the one nor the other, vſed manye threatnings againſt her, and would haue conſtrained her to take one of them.

But when he heard the commaundment of his mayſter, he let her alone, and retourning vnto him, tolde him howe the caſe ſtoode.

Mayſter Emery very well contented with it, wente to the Ambaſſadour Phinee, and weeping, excuſed himſelfe ſo well as he could for that which was happened, requyring pardon at his handes, and promiſing him that if Theodore would take her to his wife, he was right well content to beſtowe her vpon him.

Phinee willingly excepted of his excuſes, and aunſwered.

It is my will and intente that my Sunne take youre Daughter: and if he will not, I am contente the ſentence pronounced againſt him, be put in execution: Phinee and mayſter Emery being agreede, they went togither to ſeeke Theodore, at the place where he was, yet feareful of deth, and ioyfull that hee had founde his father, who aſked him what he was determined to doe in this matter.

Theodore hearing that Violenta ſhould be his wyfe if he would, his ioy was ſo great, that he thought he leaped out of Hell into Paradice. And ſaid, he would thinke himſelfe right happy to haue it ſo.

They ſent likewiſe to Violenta to knowe her intente, who hearing that which was hapned to Theodore, and what ſhould come to paſſe, where before ſhe was the heauieſt Creature liuing onely expecting death, after manye doubts, in the end giuing confidence to that whiche they tolde her, ſhe receiued ſome comforte, and aunſwered, that if ſhe might obtaine her deſyre in this behalfe, there coulde [Page] not happen a thing that would more content her, then to be the wife of Theodore.

But notwithſtanding, ſhee ſayd ſhee woulde doe that which her father had commaunded her, if ſo it pleaſed him, when this matche was thus agreede vppon on all ſides, mayſter Emery made a ſumptious feaſt, to the greate contentment of the whole Cittie.

The yong wife comforting herſelf and cauſing her yong chyld to be nouriſhed, became ſhortly after more freſh and fayre then euer ſhee was. And when Phinee retourned againe from Rome, ſhe vſed ſuch reuerence towards him as apperteined to her Father, and he being very well concent to haue ſo fayre and honeſt a Daughter, hauing celebrated the Nuptials with great cheare and feaſting, he receiued her for his Daughter, and euer after ſo accoumpted her, and within a fewe dayes after, he, his ſonne, his fayre Daughter, and his little Nephew tooke ſhipping and ſayled to Laiazze where the two Louers remayned ſo long as they liued in peace and quietneſſe.

Finis.

¶ One named Salard, departing from Genes, came to Montferat where he tranſgreſſed three commaundementes that his Father gaue him by his laſt will and Teſtamente, and being condemned to dye, was deliuered, and retourned againe into his owne countrey.

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RIghte happye and bleſſed is that chylde which with dutifull reuerence, ſheweth himſelfe obedient to his Parentes, For in ſo doing, he fulfilleth the commaundement that God hath giuen him, and ſhall therefore liue long vpon the earth, hauing good ſucceſſe in al his affayres, where contrariwiſe, the diſobedient child, is alwayes accoumpted miſerable, and moſte vnhappy, for commonly his enterpriſes haue an euel and wicked end, as you may eaſily perceiue by this fable following.

In Genes (which is a very auncient Cittie, and poſſibly as full of pleaſaunt delightes as any other) there was dwelling not long ſince a Gentleman named Renaulde Scaille, a man truely no leſſe abundant in the giftes of fortune, then in the graces of the minde: moreouer (being ſo ritch and learned as he was) he had a ſonne named Salard, whome he loued moſt intyrely. Wherefore like a good and louing Father: he inſtructed and taught him, not ſuffering him to want any thing that was profitable or praiſe worthy for him.

Now it happened that Renauld being well ſtricken in yeares, fell into a great and greeuous mallady, and perceiuing himſelf to be at the point of deth, ſent for a Scriuener to make his wil, whereby he conſtituted Salard for his heyre, praying him as a good father, to obſerue three commaundementes which he preſcribed vnto him, without euer tranſgreſſing them.

The fyrſt was, that for any loue that he bare to his wyfe [Page] he ſhould neuer reueale his ſecretes vnto her.

The ſecond was, that he ſhould not nouriſh and bring vp as his childe, or take for his heyre one that was not of his owne iſſue.

The thyrde was, that he ſhould neuer ſubiect himſelfe to anye Lorde that gouerned his countrey after his owne minde.

This done, hauing bleſſed him, hee tourned his heade towardes the Wall, and ſhortlye after yeelded vp the Ghoſt.

Now Salard, that after his Fathers death, remayned ſole inheritour of all his goods and poſſeſſions, perceiuing himſelfe to be yong, ritch, and of a good progenie (whereas he ſhould haue wholy applied himſelfe to conſyder of his fathers commaundementes, and the waighty affayres which were falne vnto him by the newe poſſeſſion of his patrimony) he determined to take a wyfe, and ſuche a one, and of ſuch a famely as ſhould well content him. So well he applied his buſineſſe, & followed the matter ſo effectually, that ere one whole yeare was fully expired after his fathers deceaſe, hee matched himſelfe with one Theodore, Daughter to one maiſter Odeſcale Doria, a Gentleman of Genes, and one of the chiefe in all the cittie.

This Gentlewoman being faire, and very well fauoured, though ſhe were ſomewhat ſhrewiſh, was ſo well beloued of her huſband, as neither by day nor night he could well abide to be out of her company. When they had continued a while togither, withoute hauing any iſſue at all betweene them, Salard with his wiues conſent, was minded to choſe ſome one for his childe Adoptiue, contrary to the will and commaundement of his father, purpoſing to bring it vp as his own, and according to that his determination, preſently putting the matter in execution, he choſe for his chylde adoptiue, a yong gyrle named poſtume that was Daughter to a poore widdowe, dwelling in the ſame Cittie, whome they brought vp, ſomewhat more [Page] wantonly then well beſee men.

Shortly after, Salard determined to depart from Genes, & to inhabite in ſome other ſoyle, not becauſe he had anye diſliking of the place (for there was no reaſon he ſhoulde, hauing there no want of any thing that was meete for his degree or agreeable with his mind) but was moued therevnto by a deſyre of chaunge, which is commonly incident to all thoſe that be at their owne libertye, and not ſubiecte to any ſuperiour wherefore hauing gotten a good Purſe of Money, with Iewels and other great ritches, beeing alſo well furniſhed with Horſe and Armoure, hee departed from Genes with his wife Theodore, and his adouted Daughter Poſtume, and paſſing towardes Piemont, at the laſt he ariued at Montferat where hée was honourably receiued of the inhabitauntes, and there in ſhorte time growing in acquaintaunce with diuerſe, hee often times rid on hunting with the townes men and cittizens, vſing with them diuerſe other excerſices, wherin he tooke delight. So that his magnificence beeing well knowne throughout the whole Littie, he was not onely beloued of the common ſorte, but alſo greatly eſteemed and honoured amongeſt the cheefeſt, which comming to the eares of the Marques, that gouerned thoſe partes, he deſyred to be acquainted with him, and perceiuing that hee was yong, rich, noblye borne, wiſe and apt to all thinges, hee began to beare ſo great affection towardes him, as hee could not ſuffer him one whole day togither to hee out of his company.

To be ſhorte, ſo great was the loue of the Marques towards Salard at he would neuer vouchſafe his fauour to any mā, vnleſſe his ſute were firſt preferred by him. wherfore Salard, ſeeing himſelfe in ſo greate credite with him, ſought all meanes poſſible to pleaſe him, in doing that which might be moſt to his liking.

The Marques that was but yong, tooke great pleaſure in Hawking and to hunte wilde Beaſtes, for which cauſe [Page] as it appertained to the degree of ſo greate a Lorde, hee kepte continuallye great ſtore of Hawkes and Houndes, and would neuer goe abroade but he would haue Salarde with him.

It happened one day about the reſt, that Salard being alone in his chamber, began to thinke of the great honour that the Marques had done vnto him. Then he began to conſider the good graces, honeſt behauiour and good maners of his adobtiue daughter Poſtume, and how obedient ſhe was to him and his wyfe at al aſſayes, and in this ſort diſcourſing with himſelfe he ſayde.

Was not my Father greatly deceiued? ſurely I holeeue he doted, as commonly all old men doe. I know not whether it were through follye or madneſſe that hee did with ſuch inſtance expreſly commaunde mee not to bring vp a chylde that was not of myne owne iſſue, nor to ſubiect my ſelfe to will of a Lord that gouerneth his Subiects after his owne fancy.

Nowe doe I plainely perceiue that all his commaundementes were vtterlye voyde of truth: For Poſtume that is my adopted Daughter, and not of myne owne iſſue, is ſo good a chylde, ſo witty, gentle, well borne, and obedient, as may be required.

Beſides that, is it poſſible that I ſhoulde anye where be better beloued then I am of the Marques: It is certain that in theſe parts he hath no ſuperioure, neither is there any his equall and yet the loue he beareth me, and the honour that dayly he doth vnto me, is ſo great, that it is commonly ſaide I am his gouernour, whereat I haue greate meruale.

There are manye doting olde men, who hauing vtterly forgotten what they themſelues were in their youth, would preſcribe newe Lawes and ordinaunces to theire Children, and all in vaine doe trouble their heads to bring them to that which they themſelues neuer obſerued. [Page] whervnto they are not moued, for any loue that they be are vnto them, but onelye to trouble them long time with the obſeruation of ſuch thinges as are to no purpoſe. But ſeing in two of thoſe pointes whiche my Father preſcribed vnto me (contrary to my expectation) I haue had ſo good ſucceſſe, I minde eare long to make tryall of the thyrde, though it be nothing needefull, for I am well aſſured that my ſweete wife, and friendly companion, will ſoone confirme the ſame by her harty good will, and loyalty towardes me.

Then ſhall ſhee, whome I more eſteeme then the Apple of my epe, gene the world plainely to vnderſtande, with what great folly theſe olde men bee commonlye infected, that adde to their will ſuch ridiculous conditions. Nowe may I well ſuppoſe that my father when he made his will was depriued of his right ſence, and that as a witleſſe old man, and one voide of al good iudgement, hedid the dedes of a childe.

In whome may I better haue confidence, then in myne owne wife, that hath forſaken her Father, her mother, her bretheren, her Siſters, and her owne famely, to bee made one only ſoule & one onely hart with me, ſo ye I may ſafely reueale my ſecretes vnto her of what importaunce ſoueuer they be: I will then make proofe of her loyalty, not for that I doe any thing miſdoubt her, (being wel aſſured that ſhe loueth me more then her ſelfe) but to followe therein the cuſtome of other yong men that doe fondly ſuppoſe it to be a very foule offence, to breake the lewde and beaſtlye ordinaunces of their parentes, which doe continually run into ſome fooliſh franſie, as men that are beſide themſelues.

Thus Salard with himſelfe deriding his fathers wiſe and profitable precepts, purpoſed to breake the thyrd, and therevpon, departing from his owne houſe, went ſtraight to the Marques Pallace, and going to the place where his Hawkes were kept, he tooke the beſt of them, and that which the Marques made moſt account of, from the perch, [Page] where it ſtoode, and ſecretely conuayde it to the houſe of a deare friend of his named maiſter Frauncis, and preſented the ſame vnto him, praying him of all loues to keepe it, vntil ſuch time as he did further vnderſtand his mind, and then retourning home againe, he ſecretlye ſine one of his owne Hawkes, and carried it to his wife ſaying vnto her in this manner. By welbeloued Theodore I cannot as you may well perceiue, haue one hower of reſt for the Marques. For be he a hunting hawking, excerciſing feats of armes, or vſing any other exploit, he always kepeth me occupied with one thing or other, in ſo much as I am often in the caſe that I know not wel whither I be deade or aliue, wherfore to preuent our dayly excerciſe in hawking. I haue played him ſuch a pranke, as when hee knoweth of it, will not very well content him, and peraduenture it may be a meane to make him keepe at home for a while, & ſo ſhall we take our eaſe togither. Then ſayd his wyſe, what haue you done vnto him? he aunſwered, I haue ſlain the beſt and moſt beloued hawke that he had, and I beleue when he miſſeth it, and can heare no ridinges of it, he will die for anger and deſpight, and therwith pulling out the dead hawke from vnder his cloke, he deliuered it vnto his wife, charging her to cauſe it to be dreſſed, ſaying: that hee would feede vpon it for the Marques ſake. Theodore hering her huſbands words, and ſeing the dead hawke, made great mone, and turning towardes him, began to reproue him for the offence he had committed, I maruaile (qd. ſhee) how you could finde in your hart to commit ſuch a treſpas againſt my Lord Marques that beareth you ſo great good will, he hath alwayes bene ready to pleaſure you in anye thing yt you would requyre of him, appointing you alwais the place next to his owne perſon: Alas huſband you haue hereby wrought our vtter ruine. It by il hap the Marques haue the leaſt inkeling in the worlde that you haue done this e [...]l deede, what ſhall become of you, ſurely you ſhalbe in great daunger of death where vnto Salard replyed, how [Page] ſhould the Marques haue vnderſtanding of it. There is none but onely you and I that kneweth it, wherefore I praye you for the loue that you alwayes haue borne, and yet doe beare vnto me, that you will not in anye wyſe reueale it, for if you doe, it will be an vtter vndoing to vs both.

Doubt you not of that (ſayde ſhe) For I had rather dye a thouſand deathe then open ſuch a ſecret. when ye hawke was dreſt and redy to be eaten, Salard and Theodore ſeite them down togither at the table, but Theodore notwithſtanding that he requeſting her very earneſtly would not eate one morſell of it, wherefore perceiuing how ſmall accoumpt ſhe made of his wordes, as one throughly angred, he gaue her ſo great a blow on the face with his fiſt, yt her cheeke waxed very red withall, whiche ſhee taking moſte greeuouſlye fell ſtraighte on weéping, and complayned greatlye of his hard dealing with her. And then riſing from the table in a furye, m [...]bling the Deuils Pater noſter, threatned him, and ſayd, ſhee woulde remember that iniury all the dayes of her lyfe, and woulde bee ſufficiently reuenged both of the time and place.

The next morning riſing before her ordinarye hower, without longer lingering ſhee repayred to the Marques, telling him from point to point of the death of his Hawke.

Which when the Marques hearde, being inflamed with fury, not attending what Salard coulde ſays for himſelfe, preſently cauſed him to be apprehended, and without further conſideration of the matter, condemned him to bee hanged, and to loſe all his goods, which he willed to be deuided in three partes.

whereof the firſt ſhould remaine to his wife for accuſing him, the ſecond to his Daughter, and the thyrd to him that would doe the execution vpon him.

Now Poſtume that was grown to be a proper and well fauoured wench, vnderſtanding what ſentence was pronounced againſt her father (for yt which ſhe was not greatly [Page] greeued) went preſently to her mother, and ſaide vnto her.

Mother were it not much better that I by doing the execution vpon my father, ſhould gaine the third part of his goods, then a ſtraunger. Then her mother ſaid ſurely my Daughter this is very well conſidered of thee, and I wold it were ſo, for by that meanes all his goods ſhall remaine vnto vs two.

Then went Poſtume to the Marques and made ſute vnto him that ſhe might be ſuffred to do the erecution vppon her father, to the end that (as he had ordayded) ſhe mighte thereby be the inheritour to the thyrde parte of his goods, vnto which her requeſt, the Marques willingly accorded. Salard hauing now ſecretly informed his friend Fraunces of the whole matter, intreated him that when hee was at the poynt to be led to the place of execution there to be put to Death; he would preſently repayre to the Marques and intreate him that he might be brought before him, and that he would vouchſafe to heare him ſpeake a few words vnto him before he was put to death, which Fraunces when time ſerued perfourmed accordingly.

In the meane time Salard remayning in Priſon with Fetters on his feete, expecting euery hower when hee ſhould be led to the place of execution, there to ſuffer a ſhamefull and villanous death, weeping bitterlye ſayde vnto himſelf. Now doe I playnly perceiue but all to late that my good aged father with his long experience did councell mee to nothing but that which mighte haue bene for my health and ſinguler commoditye, if I hadde well wayed it.

He like a wiſe and graue perſon gaue me good preceptes, and I vnhappy and witles wretch made no accoumpte of them. Hee commaunded me for my eaſe and benefiete, to flye from theſe my domeſticall ennemies, and I to offer them the occaſion whereby they myghte bring mee to this ſhamefull ende, and to make them conceaue [Page] great pleaſure in the ſame, haue yeelded my ſelf vnto their diſcretion, my father lykewiſe knowing ye nature of Princes to be ſuch, that in one hower they will both loue and lothe, exhault and pull downe, counſayled mee to ſeperate myſelfe from them, and I (foole that I am) to be depriued of my goods, honour, and life, haue moſte vnwiſely ſought after them. O Salard, Salard, how much better had it bene for thee, if thou hadſt followed thy fathers ſteppes, ſuffering flatterers and lewde perſons to follow the courts of princes and great Lordes. Now ſee I wel to what paſſe I am like to come, by truſting to much to my ſelfe, my wicked wife, vngracious chylde, and aboue all by to much beleeuing the fained friendſhip of the vngrateful Marques. Now do I certainly know how well hee loued me, what might he doe worſe vnto me [...]ſurely nothing, for at one inſtaunt would he take from me my liuing, lyfe, and honour, alas how ſoone is his great loue conuerted to cruell and bloody hatred. I ſee this prouerbe is not vſed in vain, that theſe great Lords are like vnto wine in a Bottle, which is good in ye morning, & nought at night. O vnhappy Salard, to what pas art thou come? where is thy nobillitye? where are thy deare parents? where is thy great riches? where is thy loyaltie? thy good inclination, and accuſtomed curteſy, O my louing father, I am ſure if you were aliue againe to beholde me in this place, redy to ſuffer death, For noue other offence but onely for infringing your fatherlye precepts (through the dede) deferue far greter puniſhment thē this that is now alotted vnto me, you wold not only ſeke & ſue to ſaue me from it, but wouldalſo hartily pray to God to haue pitty vpon my youthful ſollies, & the offences wher vnto only ignorance hath led me, and I for my part, as an vnthankfull and diſobedient chyld, that haue not regarded your graue and gracious commaundements, would moſte humbly beſeech you to pardon me. whilſt Salarde was thus debating and complayning to himſelfe, his daughter Poſtume (like a good and wel inſtructed hangman) repayred [Page] to the priſon where he was, and there moſt arrogantly preſenting her ſelfe before him, ſhe vſed theſe or ſuch lyke wordes.

Father for as much as froward fortune hath ordayned that according to the ſētence which my Lord Maques hath pronounced againſt you, you ſhall this day withoute faile ſuffer death, and that the third part of your goods is alotted vnto them that ſhall doe the execution vppon you, knowing the loue that you beare vnto me, I hope you wil not be offended, if I take vpon me to diſcharge that office my ſelfe, for in ſo doing your goods ſhall not fall into the handes of ſtraungers, but remain ſtil to thoſe of your own famely, wherwith me thinketh you ſhould be well contented. Salard yt gaue attentiue eare to his daughters wordes aunſwered in this manner, God bleſſe thee my daughter, thy reaſons are very good, and pleaſe me right well, and though before I were vnwilling to dy, now would I gladly end my life, doe then thy office my daughter, and deferre the time no longer, Then Poſtume crauing pardon & kiſſing him, toke the halter and put it about his neck, exhorting him to take his death patiently, Salard ſeing ye ſodain alteration of thinges, was greatly aſtoniſhed, and iſſuing out of the priſon, with his hands bound behind him, & the halter about his neck, accompanied with the bayly, & al the reſt of the officers, & miniſters of iuſtice, he paſſed with all ſpeede to the place of execution, & being come thither tourning his back towards the ladder that was ſet againſt the Gibbet, hee wente leyſerlye from ſteppe to ſteppe till hee came to the toppe, where with a ſtoute courage and ſtable countenaunce, he behelde the people on euery ſyde, declaring treateablye and with greate deliberation, why he was brought thither and then in louing and friendlye mauer, crauing pardon for-al his faults and offences committed, earneſtlye exhorted Chyldren to bée obediente to their Parents and Elders, when the people had hard the whole cauſe of Salards condemnation, there was not one [Page] in the companye but wepte, and greatelye lamented the hard hap of this pore yong man, and deſyred GOD to giue them the grace to take example by him.

Whylſte theſe thinges were a doing, his friende Frauncis (that was not vnmindefull of him,) tooke his way to the Marques Pallaice, and hauing founde fit opportunity, in moſte humble wiſe beſought him that Salard mighte be broughte to his preſence, to aunſwere for himſelfe, before he were put to death, aſſuring him that he was not gilty of the crime for which hee had condemned him, and there vppon pleadged his lyfe: So that at the laſt with much adoe, the Marques cauſed Salard to be repriued, & willed he ſhould be brought vnto him with the Haltex about his neck, and the hangman with him, which was perfourmed accordingly.

So ſoone as Salard was come into the Marques preſence, whoſe face was yet in flamed with furye, he beganne with a bolde courage, and ſtedfaſt countenaunce (not being any thing troubled in his mind,) to vtter theſe & ſuche lyke wordes.

Syr, the ſeruice that I haue done you, and the loue that I haue borne vnto you, hath not deſerued the outrage and ſhame that you haue done vnto me, in condemning mee to dye ſo ſhameful & villanous a death. And although the diſpleaſure that you haue taken againſt my great follye, (if it may be termed [...]olly) hath prouoked you to vſe ſuch cruelty towards me, contrary to your naturall diſpoſition, yet ſhoulde you not ſo ſodainly condemne me to deth without hearing me aunſwere in my owne behalfe, for the Hawke, for the which you are ſo much offended, (thinking that it is dead) is yet liuing, and in as good caſe as euer it was.

And thinke not Syr that I woulde preſume to kill or hurt it by any meanes, but this that I haue done, was to make try all of certaine thinges that I was before warned of, as I will manifeſt vnto you.

[...]

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Information about this book

Title statement

The forrest of fancy Wherein is conteined very prety apothegmes, and pleasaunt histories, both in meeter and prose, songes, sonets, epigrams and epistles, of diuerse matter and in diuerse manner. VVith sundry other deuises, no lesse pithye then pleasaunt and profytable.

H. C.

Edition statement

1579

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A69037

ID [STC]

STC 4271

ID [STC]

ESTC S104854

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99840585

ID [PROQUEST]

99840585

ID [VID]

5105

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Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A69037)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 5105)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 238:12, 952:01)

Source

— The forrest of fancy Wherein is conteined very prety apothegmes, and pleasaunt histories, both in meeter and prose, songes, sonets, epigrams and epistles, of diuerse matter and in diuerse manner. VVith sundry other deuises, no lesse pithye then pleasaunt and profytable., H. C., Chettle, Henry, d. 1607?, attributed name., Cheeke, Henry, 1548?-1586?, attributed name., Constable, Henry, 1562-1613, attributed name..

Extent

[160] p.

By Thomas Purfoote, dwelling in Newgate Market, within the new rents, at the signe of the Lucrece,. Imprinted at London :: 1579.. (Signed at end: H.C.; variously attributed to Henry Chettle, to Henry Cheeke, and to Henry Constable.) (Partly in verse.) (Signatures: A-U⁴.) (Identified as STC 1471a on UMI microfilm reel 238.) (Reproductions of the originals in the British Library and Harvard University. Library.) (Appears at reel 238 (British Library copy) and at reel 952 (Harvard University. Library copy).)

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