The trauayled Pyl­grime, bringing newes from all partes of the worlde, such like scarce harde of be­fore.

Seene and allowed according to the order appointed.

Anno Domini. 1569.

Eccle. 10.The glorie of the riche, of the honorable, and of the poore, is the feare of God.
[figure]
Prouerbes. 2 [...]. The riche and poore are together, the Lorde is the maker of them all.

TO THE RIGHT WOR­shipfull Sir William Damsell knight, receyuer generall of the Queenes Ma­iesties Court of VVardes, and Lyue­ries. S. B. wysheth most prosperous health, and endlesse felicitie.

AMONG DI­uers benefits recey­ued (Right wor­shypfull) conside­ring wyth my selfe in what order or by what meanes I mought deuyse, to show some part of recōpence, thoughfar, to acquite that which I haue receiued, I forth­with called to mind these wordes, Marcus Tulliu [...] Cicero. Non solum gratis esse debet, qui accepit benificium, verum etiam is cui potestas accipiendi fuit, he ought not onely to be thankefull, which hath receyued a bene­fit, but also, he to whom, hath bene power of [Page] receyuing a benefite, so I confesse, who haue not onely receyued so many benefits at your worships handes, so often as I haue requi­red: but also on your part haue augmented your friendly beneuolence, more then as yet I haue deserued. In consideration hereof, and thinking with my selfe by what means to gratefie some part of your deserued la­bours towardes me, I thought good to dedi­cate this my simple and vnlearned trauaile, who hauing nothing else on your worship to bestow, called the trauailed Pilgrim, wher­in I haue painted foorth the fonde deuise of man, and the straunge Combats that he is daylie forced vnto, by meanes of this oure feeble nature: showing also howe euery de­gree shoulde, or at the least wayes ought, to frame themselues, and so aduisedly to watch that we be found vigilāt watchmen, aspec­ting the great & second cōming of our lord [Page] Iesus Christ, that at what houre the theefe breake in vpon vs, wee be readie armed to withstand the same, reporting also that the sayde Pilgrime bringeth newes out of all partes of the world, by which newes is signi­fied the straunge inuentions of man, which at no time contynueth in one estate [...] staye, so long as the vitall breath remaineth with­in this wretched corps of oures: Further­more, to consider of this my foresayde enter­prise, not that I write this to the intent to correct or amend any fault or faults in other men, but only by way of friendly exhortati­on, exhorting euery faythfull Christian, to haue such regarde to this their Pilgrimage here on earth, that in the lyfe to come, they may enioy the happie gaine of endlesse feli­citie. So right worshipfull the effect of this my simple and vnlearned enterprise being drawne, I mused with my selfe to whome I [Page] best might bestowe the same, and knowing none other more fit then your worship, con­sidering the benefits as well present as past, thought good to present the same, beseech­ing your worshyp to except more my good will, then otherwise the effect of this my sim­ple trauaile, and in so doing I shall not think my labor herein vneffectually bestowed: thus I ende, beseeching the Al­mightie God to preserue you both now and euer. Amen.

Your humble Orator. S. B.

¶To the Reader.

THough the matter (gentle Reader) con­teined in this my simple treatise, be not altogither fruitlesse, but that manye things therein might verye vvell be a­mended, yet notvvithstanding so farre I presume of thy indifferent iudgement, that thou vvilt not be according to the common sort of curious qua­rellers, a captious or a malipert correctour of the labours or diligent studie of anye to hin­der, although in some poyntes thou bee able to correct: but fauourably consider the good vvill of the wryter, and then if anye thing chaunce con­trarie to thy mind, show foorth thy friendly com­mendations, with such ordred corrections, as may not onely encourage the Author, but also get to thy selfe in lyke effect lyke cōmendation or praise. It is hard for one to please many: therfore in fewe wordes I haue thought good, to knit togither this my simple vvorke, called the trauayled Pilgrime, wherein is set foorth the state of man, and the in­numerable assaultes, that he is daylie and hourely enuironed withall, not onely with outward or bo­dily enimies, as losse of goodes, or lyfe, of wyfe, children, or familier friends, which eftsones hap­pens, [Page] as the losse of goodes by theft, or fyre, the death of thy friende or familye, by slaunder and murther, these and suche lyke distu [...]bances, still eyther in the one or other, man is alwayes subiect vnto, yet better to be auoyded, then the inwarde cogitations or thoughts, which daylie by Sathan, man is vexed and moued, for the one may by pa­cience, in suffering vvrongful dealing, oftentimes escape the doings, which otherwise myght else happen to his or there great payne and grieuance: the other must not onely be ouercome with paci­ence in suffering, but also fayth and good workes must proceede, vvhich be tvvo chiefe causes, that God by his sonne Iesus Christe beyng oure Me­diator, doth continuallye heare, not the out­vvard prayers only, but also our invvard thoughts so long as true hope vvyth these three doth re­mayne, that is to say, pacience in suffring, fayth in beleeuing, that God in Christ Iesus, is able, & vvill forgiue the sinnes & offences of all true obedient harts: good vvorks, doth and shall receyue hir re­vvard, vvhich is euerlasting life. And hope then is brought from calamities vvhich she long desired, vnto iocundity & triumphant glory. Thus much [Page] gentle Reader. I haue thought good to vvrite con­cerning the state of man, but vvhatsoeuer I haue left vnvvritten in this my base and simple Epistle, although not altogither it chaunce to please some frovvarde braynes, yet as much as I haue thought conuenient, so much haue I vvritten, not that I knovve in my selfe, but that by the vvise and lear­ned, many things may be amended: impute ther­fore the lacke of any thing which may chaunce to discontent Tyme, not to ignorance, but only the full minde and effect hereof to the vvriter, vvho thinkes this done suffi­cient.

Read, but deride not, at merie things laugh not,
After mirth cometh sorow, for Momus I care not
Farevvell in the Lorde. S. B. M.

¶The childe signifieth good Infancie: the rod, Correction: the auncient or aged man, Reason: the booke, Truth: the armed Knyght, youthfull Courage: the speare, good Gouernment: the shielde, Hope: the sword, Courage: standing in the fielde called Time.

Here the Author beginnes his voyage, being ready armed, bidding Infancie farewell, and now growing by Reason to fur­ther possibilitie and strength.

[Page] THe mightye Ioue celestiall, when first he tooke in hand,
That Chaos huge, he made to fall, and formed so a land,
Wherein he set and created, all things as now we sée,
First beasts, then mā, which he prepard their gouernor to bée,
And named him in Eden grounde, Adam, that name he gaue,
Where nothing then could him confound, till he a Mate did c [...]aue.
She, Eua, hight, a woman kinde, when he awakte hir sawe,
As Innocents no sinne did minde, till Sathan wrought their awe.
That Woman first she did consent, the Apple for to prooue,
Wherby the serpent did inuent, all ioyes from them to mooue.
For their offence they were exilde out of that pleasaunt place,
And carth accursed forth did yéelde, the crabbed thome a space.
The earth then fayne were they to till, still laboring the ground,
Thus sathans drifts thē thought to spill, he gaue that deadly wound:
Although that Adam did offend, yet God so shewde his grace,
A newe Adam he after sent, which did all sinne deface.
Such minde hath God alwayes to those, that ioyes his lawes to looue,
And such as are his mortall foes, with plagues he doth them prooue:
As Pharao that cruell king, which did so sore oppresse
The Israelites aboue all thing, and would not them release.
It were to long all to recite, I minde them to forgoe,
The swallow swift once taken flight, then Auster streight doth bloe,
With nipping showres and frosts so colde, few may it long endure,
But that once past then doth vnfold the swéete and pleasant showre,
Wherby all things do spring and grow, with orient smell most swéete,
Till Hyems force himselfe doth show, then Pisces ioyes in déepe.
So I as one bereft of ioy, in order mindes to frame,
The gliding pace, the state so coy, yet loth were (one) to blame.
The state of one to nominate, yet all I wish to looke,
Conceyue in minde, doe nothing hate, till read ye haue this booke:
He that disprayseth ere he know, may well be thought a foole,
The Hart the Hind doth time foreshow, yet void frō reasons schoole.
Of Dolor and Debilitie, these two I chiefly name,
The first is hard to vnderstand, the other maketh tame,
In bringing youthfull yeares to ende, now know you what he is,
Be mindefull therefore what you read, if not, you may soone misse.

¶The fielde Tyme: he with wings, Thought: the other, the Author: trauailing in the sayde fielde.

In time Thought moueth the Author.

[Page] IN Hyems force, both trée and herbe doth vade as rest of life,
On sodeyne then to me appeard, the state of worldly strife:
As I thus going all alone (one) did to me appeare,
Awake, quoth he, from pensiue mone, of me haue thou no feare.
Both he and I togither went, as friendes a certaine space,
Till at the last I did repent, my former time and case,
Then stept I forth full sodainly, as one bereft of glorie,
And to my minde I did apply to note therof some storie.
As afterwardes there shall be séene, with such aduised héede.
The state of life I will beginne, thus haue I full decréede.
Consider first both life and welth, be mindefull still thereof,
For that will bring most perfite health, so shall at thée none scoffe.
If that forgetfulnesse endure, no hope there is of gaine,
Where state decreaseth be thou sure, bereft from ioy to paine,
The time once past, néedes must consume the pleasant orient smell
Of trée and herbe that growes on ground, as proofe full well can tell.
Likewise all trées that fruite doth beare, in light they show a shade,
And time once past straight wil appeare, y • al things néeds must vade,
So likewise those that vainly spende, their liues they care not how,
The wrath of God on such attendes, and age of force must bow.
The trée that once cleane withered is, can be by no meanes greene,
No more can Age be yong ywisse, it neuer hath bene séene,
Conceyue therefore full well in minde, and youthfull time so spende,
That when Death comes thou be not blinde, to late then to amende,
Néedefull it is also to knowe, and how thy selfe mayst stay,
That Dolor and Debilitie, they guide a cruell way,
None may escape them by no wayes, these knights so valiant are,
Yea Antropos with force them stays, and sharply doth them snare,
Most horrible and daungerous, the passage is to sée,
With combats great most marueilous, not one away may flée,
Till that he be bereft of life, they are so fiercely prest,
They neuer cease, but still at strife, at no time take they rest.
And Dolorousnesse by his great force, an Thought doth still attend,
Debilitie thorow féeblenesse, to death he all doth send,
Which death appeares in [...]isible, with gliding dart most sharpe,
The dent thereof the life doth quell, the soule from body part.
[Page] They neuer cease in working still, which way they best may finde,
Both Prince and King they come vntill, thereto they are assignde.
Sée now therefore ye vnderstand, the Herault will appeare,
That Dolor hée, will thée withstand, of him be not in feare.
Sith thou thy selfe hast giuen the charge, I will thée me regarde,
In spending youth be not to large, thine enmy is preparde,
Who mindeth still thée to inuade, with his great force and strength,
Arme thée therfore as I haue sayd, some case to finde at length.
Thinkst thou thy selfe to be more stout, than euer Sampsons grace,
Or Hercules which went about, that Pluto to deface:
Art thou bereft from wisdomes schoole, what Salamon to excéede,
Oh caytife base and simple foole, refraine I say with speede.
Diomedes with Marshall skill, doth farre excéede the state,
What got Absalon by his will, could he from death escape:
Not one of all the worthies nine, coulde Dolor once withstande,
Prouide therfore all things by Time, still take him by the hande.
Sith that the howre draweth nie, be ready at the sounde
Of trumpet shrill, with blast most cleere, thine enmies to confounde:
The loftie sounde of trumpet blowne, oft warneth to prepare,
With speare & shield now all is knowne, of these my words beware.

¶The armed Knight signifieth true Obedience in all estates, his armour, Strength: the shielde, Hope: the sworde, Courage: the speare, Aduenture: deliuered to the Author, by Thought being present in the fielde called Time.

The Author putting all feare aside, armeth himselfe, and so rideth foorth on his horse called W [...]ll.

[Page] WHen Time had said to me his mind, I pondred then in thought
To worke & doe as he assignde, forthwith I armour cought,
As [...] then forste I put it on, by horned Cinthias light,
And armour dight or Phoebus shone, so forth I tooke my flight,
The Horse wheron I sate was, Will, whose force few youth may stay,
My sworde was, Courage, prest to kill, so rode I on my way.
My armour was both tough and strong, of strength it was new made,
My shielde also was, Hope, among mine enimies to inuade.
My speare was wrought and fabricate, with glittring gold most bright,
Thereby that I asswage mought Hate, and put my foes to flight,
Thus rode I on couragious, some prowesse for to winne,
In passing forth most venterous, I practise did beginne.
Two dayes I rode but nothing saw, among the hugie rockes,
Not one aduenture worth a straw, so voyde I Momus mockes,
Whereby I might recite at large, to please the Readers minde,
I let that passe and put in charge, that Thought to me assignde:
It is not n [...]edefull here to tell, my dolefull woe and paine,
A thousand griefes aye set to quell, and Time did me disdaine,
But when I had escapte the wayes, being past the mountaines great,
A goodly greene there did appeare, which worldly pleasure hight.
So much the place delighted me, my selfe I cleane forgat,
Till that I did Aduenture sée, in midst of pleasures plat,
A knight appeared there in sight, of corps both huge and great,
Upon a stéede all, Ire, he hight as blacke as any Ieat.
And towards me he came a mayne, with countnance fierce and grim,
Regard, quoth he, in time, refraine, of me thou naught mayst win,
Sée thou with spéede thy selfe prepare, for I will haue no naye,
My might to prooue, if that thou dare, else here I will thée staye.
Forthwith I graunted his request, but first his name to tell,
And then to proue if he thought best, so would I with him mell,
With irefull speach and loftie voyce, he aunswerde me in haste,
Disagreement, who first hath choyse, all fleshe to stroy and waste,
I Disagreement all would deflowre, from quiet peace and rest,
Through Eluttonie encrease my powre, all other I detest,
Not one if once I take in hande, from me may scarce escape,
I rent and plucke as small as sand, nay few to me dare prate,
[Page] Sith thou art not Debilitie, nor Dolor which is fell,
Thy force I hope to mollifie, I now thée know full well:
Debilitie and Dolor eke, for these two doe I seeke,
Who kéepes the wood of Antropos, and cause all flesh to gréete:
Debilitie to most is knowne, by sicknesse or by age,
Bicause the state in man consumes, to death his corps doth gage,
But Dolor now is verie straunge, which may or may not bée
Without corruption of that, wherein one may it sée.
Debilitie therfore to him, I haue so ioynde in kinde,
That Dolor he may well be callde, a foe to friendly minde,
And why? bicause all flesh is loth with goodwill hence to part,
Therefore I haue thought good as now, to ioyne them as one hart.
Being both togither, are as one, still striuing man to win,
When youthful yeres are gone and past, then age nedes must begin,
With hollow eyen and visage grim, and countnance wan and pale,
Thus Ioue aboue all times assignes, this newes account not stale.
From those two, minde I to escape, if that by power I maye,
Thou mayst be sure thou commest to late, to vanquish or to fraye,
With that he spake with eger moode, as one distraught of wit,
Though none of those, yet sure their friende, togither are we knit.
Thy selfe defende, if that thou can, I minde thy force to prooue,
Make no delay, doe surely stande, from me thou shalt not mooue:
Our Speares on rest, we both fast set, ech other so did méete,
That both to grounde we fell therwith, and after fought on féete.
His Speare was shod with little Wit, wherewith he downe me cast,
That counterbuffe I féele as yet, and shall while life doth last.
Our speares at once cleane broken were, with swords ech other strake,
So fierce was I, none could me feare, till Time my state did shake:
With the licour of foolishnesse (therewith) were both swords wrought,
With vaine desire and wilfulnesse, ech other strake aloft:
The strokes were verie straunge to heare, that ech to other sent,
And straight to me there did appeare, the ydle life so spent.
Thus still togither did we fight, as fooles to striue with Time,
Till at the last appeared night, yet Cinthia gaue hir shine,
Whereby we both might well perceyue, all goodnesse crept away,
By Diligence then was I faine, to craue as guide and stay.

¶The Author fighteth with Disagreement, the speare that Disagreement hath broken, is called Littlewit, the Au­thors speare is Aduenture, both swoordes in thys place signifie foolishnesse, wherewith eche striketh other, till pleasant Ladie Me­morie defendeth the Author from Disagreement, in the fielde called Time.

Here Disagreement speaketh to the Author, and so both beginnes the combat.

[Page] STill Disagreement me assaylde, whose force so still en [...]rcast,
His restlesse strokes so did me quaile, that fain I would haue ceast:
I sawe no way how to escape, from him I might not start,
Nor knew not how to finde a mate, to ayde me from my smar [...].
And being thus in pensiue care, still looking for my ende,
Deuoyde from ioy as one thréede bare, nought hauing to defende:
That lustie Ladie Youth forth came, on whom I did depende,
His strokes she counted but as game, whereby we made an ende.
Hir feruent loue did so me ayde, hir strength so did me staye,
Of nought by hir I was afrayde, so rode I on my waye.
As I thus prest was forth to ride, againe she did me call,
And willed me with Time to bide, to sée what would befall.
To Disagreement thus she sayde, doe graunt to my request,
And let him passe, not once denayde, for so I thinke it best,
To see more of the worldly state, some prowesse for to winne,
Refraine therefore no time abate, sith Youth doth now beginne.
He aunswerde me most currishly, sith that I must of force,
A sure foundation see thou be,
By the Cap that Disagre­ment gi­ueth to Memorie, to deliu [...] to [...] is sig­nified [...] of [...] meanes possible [...].
to Age haue good remorse,
This Cappe here take, a thing of price, most méetest is and good.
To driue away all fonde deuice, a salue to nourish blood.
It shall be like a springing Well which nourisheth the grounde,
Euen so all griefe it will expell, and fonde deuice confounde.
When that I had this Cappe receiude, I was so glad of chéere,
Away with hast, full well appeasde, I thought none then my péere.
The fatall chaunce and destenie of Herpelus his loue,
Auailed not to molifie, although he long did proue,
A thousande moe I coulde recite, yea, thousand thousandes sure,
Which are so fonde in their delight, deuoyde from ease or cure.
Where fickle fantasie moues the minde, of fond desirde fooles,
Their youthfull race soone waxeth blinde, & falles betwixt two stooles:
For he that on two stooles will sit, may chaunce misse on them both,
Where one will serue it is vnfit, such fooles who will not loth▪
Who euer in one age more sawe, of vaine superbitée?
Regarde of lawes who standes in awe, as all full well may s [...].
So many as will venterers be, your armour sée be fast,
Of Faith, Hope, Loue, and Charitie, then life be sure to tast.
[Page] Thus by the way I doe thee warne, regarde my words full well,
Then be thou sure to voyde the harme, of paines infernall hell:
By order seene, shall euery state, in what case here they toyle,
And how thou mayst thy selfe abate, from Sathans drifts and soyle.
Thus striued I so long with Time, till Youth was almost gone,
And Thought to me so did encline, that wo began my song:
In suffring combats manifolde, still hoping Time to rule,
Till Time in Courage waxed bolde, then gan I streight to pule,
As one forsakte, departed I, not knowing where to rest,
In dolefull wo I gan to crie, Thought did mée so molest,
Then rode I forth some way to finde, and night approched néere,
And Vesper bright began to shine, whereby I saw full cléere
A house or place, most faire to sée, which did my hart reioyce,
The way thereto likened might be, to subtill Nimphias voyce,
A Laberi [...]th I thought it sure, or some infernall place,
The more I sought, Age did procure, all Youth from me to chace:
Yet at the length through much adooe, the way at last I founde,
Approching néere, I streight did bow, to heare some voice or sounde.
And thus still musing in great griefe, I streight espying one,
To whome I called for reliefe, which heard my griefe and mone.

¶Here the Author by long trauaile meeteth with Vnderstan­ding, and requireth lodging: Obedience or true Di­ligence, guideth his horse called Will, in the fielde called Time.

Here the Author speaketh to Vnderstanding.

[Page] IF thou saluation hopest to haue, then graunt me my request,
And licence me sith now I craue, and doe me not detest:
For that thou vnderstanding hight, of Gods eternall grace,
So much the more I doe delight, to see thy splendent face,
Whereby that I may grace attaine, my foes for to subdue,
Thereby to voyde ech endlesse paines, which else may me ensue.
Therefore to lodge with thée all night, is sure my whole desire,
That I by thée may haue some sight, nought else I doe require.
His aunswere was both méeke and kinde, and thus to me he sayde,
Welcome thou art with hart and minde, be sure I will thée ayde:
Scarce one, there doth to me resort, for (almost) all is gone,
And fewe or none comes to my port, thus liue I all alone.
My sonne I will thée entertaine, the best wise that I can,
Twise welcome say I once againe, now giue to me thy han:
Then foorth he led me to a place, which séemed verie straunge,
Wherein I saw Ioy and Solace, in euery corner raunge.
The noyse of pleasant harmonie, so much re [...]oyst my hart,
That I forgat my sorrowes past, with all my griefe and smart.
Forthwith he streight vnarmed me, and did on me a goune.
Which hight all feruent modestie, mine enmies to resoune.
I neuer was before so lodgde, nor saw so worthie an Host,
In no place where I [...]rst had bene, in Citie, towne nor Cost,
All things which néeded there I had, my corpes for to suffice,
And Infancie that pretie ladde brought water for mine eies.
Whereby I might perceyue and see the cléere light from the darke,
Twise happiest truly (thought) to be, from me as then depart:
Yet not so cleane gone but by stealth, he touchte me now and than,
With sundrie cares of worldly welth, oft had me by the han.
The thought of worldly welth nor gaine, might not me once molest,
So long as Reason rulde the vaine, which froward will detest,
Thus he and I togithers went, into a secret place,
Where I to him gaue full consent, sinnes motion cléere to chace,
Through singlenesse of life to be, in perfite loue and peace,
Alwayes continuing to the ende, my selfe for to releace,
From all woe and calamitie, which in all flesh doth raine,
In the supernall throne to be, from all woe, griefe and paine:
[Page] Wel doing goes farre out of way, where faith is not in place,
And faith alone is voyde of staye, yet both obtaineth grace,
Who well doth liue, all vertues hath, then néedes hée not to feare,
With orient smell, and pleasant bath where mercy doth vpreare.
From worldly pleasure and delight, of God to be in awe,
Though sathan séeketh w t al spite, from him he may none draw,
Not one of them which Christ doth choose, shall perish and decaye,
Not one he will at all refuse, that flies their former waye,
And calleth vnto him for grace with constant minde and zeale,
For such he doth prouide a place, his mercy thus doth deale,
To euery man so equally he doth bestow his loue,
Therefore his lawes doe magnifie, who sittes in throne aboue.
Thus when he had sayd all his minde, he tooke me by the hande,
And brought me to a place where he, bid marke and vnderstande:
Such cheare, quoth he, I haue prouide, as shall you well suffice,
The Bread of life, the Cup of health, sée you it not despise.
The liuely worde of God I meane, which saues all men by grace,
The Cup of health and feruent zeale, all errors forth doth chase.
Content your selfe with this a while, thereof take first your taste,
Ere long you shall drinke of the wine that shall not fret nor waste.

¶Vnderstanding maketh his banquet, and comforteth the Author: true Diligence furnisheth the table in the place of Reason.

Here the Author being moued with great desire, requireth of Vn­derstanding what his name is: which, being as yet to him vnknowne.

[Page] WHen that to me he all had said, togithers we did walke,
Till at the last I mused how, I might deuise in talke
To know his name and whence he was, my whole desire was set,
I coulde no longer it forbeare, nor nought my thought could let.
And how he in that place first came, to know was my desire,
At length I spake as came in minde, his name I did require:
Full louingly he aunswerde me, saying he would recite,
And how that he first thither came, by whose strength powre & might.
Sith that to me your name is knowne, I also mine shall show,
With hart and minde I will reueale, and also let you know.
Vnderstanding, the verie same, which earst you said you sought,
Most knowne am I in euerie place, and yet of fewest cought.
Bicause the way of ioylesse life is brode and verie plaine,
I haue made here my dwelling place, all scorners to refraine.
The bread whereon I daily féede, is sobrietie and peace:
The wine which I also receiue, is Loue, which hate doth cease.
Thus liue I here without disease, nothing doth me annoye,
By grace diuine I sustaine those, that to my words employe:
Yet sinne to me is very sharpe, which daily I pursue,
Whereby I may the sooner get, to Ioue that Iudge most true,
Which sittes aloft in splendent throne, of chrystall light most cleare,
In glorious ioyes magnificent, among his Saints most deare.
To him therfore I giue the prayse, Iehouah, thou art hée,
On whome in hart I doe delight, thy splendent face to sée.
With such delight thy selfe prepare, sith I thy state doe knowe,
Fro me thou nothing mayest hide, as after I will showe.
And sith thou art but yong in yeares, not yet come to full strength,
Let Reason therfore be thy guide,
Reason speaketh to y • Au­thor.
he will thée ease at length.
Remember well what I haue said, and do it not forget,
Though horror fell doe thée molest, at no time sée thou fret.
As valiant knights, séeke to defende, the Citie, Towne or Nation,
So fight thou still with all thy powre, against all variation.
Of all false and vsurped powers, from such sée thou decline,
As souldiers fierce that feares no showres, but tarie for the time,
Not fearing threats of worldly powre, but him which can destrye
Both body, soule, yea, all on earth, or turne thou can thine eye.
[Page] Put on thine armour now with spéede, sith forward thou must goe,
And strength thee with the shielde of faith, against thy mortall foe,
Debilitie is alwayes prest, awaiting till thou come,
To carie thée as his captiue, from him thou mayst not run:
Debilitie and Dolor both so sore will the assayle,
That from their hands thou mayst not scape, they minde thée sure to quaile:
So rule thy selfe in time therfore, the lawes of God regarde,
The lesse thou néedest then to feare, although they be preparde▪
Seing now I haue declarde to thée, a time thou mayst auoyde,
Both Dolor and Debilitie which carst thée still annoyde.
If once on thée they doe take holde, away thou mayst not flie,
Nor to retire, it is but vaine, although for helpe thou crie.
But in the enterprise thou goest about, thou shalt attaine,
To get such praise as few hath done, if me thou not disdaine,
Dolor hée that Champion stout, euen hée séeketh thée to let:
If thou him wynne, for laude thereof, great fame I will thée get.
And for as much as (good intent) thereby thou mindest to prooue,
Take thou this speare of Regiment, thy foes therby to mooue,
In length of time thou must decrease, thou mayst not kéepe one stay,
Yet force thou not this state of thine, thereat doe not dismay.
Thou shalt be able to endure, if thou my words obay,
Cease not therfore, but put in vre, let nothing now thée fray,
That now when Dolor doth approch, then strike him if thou can,
So for a time thou mayst escape, my words now rightly scan:
Yet one thing more doe well regarde, before thou take in hande,
Laude God alway, who hath thée made, doe not his word withstand:
Sée that in chamber secretly, thou alwayes giue him prayse,
Then will he thée defende and kéepe, at all times and assayes,
Let hart and thought agrée in one, sith he of naught thée made,
And thanke him for his benefits, from them at no time vade,
And yet on our behalfe nothing deserued is, whereby
That ought at all we sure should haue, or ioye in throne on hie.
When supper was thus finished, and thanks giuen for our meate,
Streight way we rose to walke a while, more matter to intreate:
Thus when we had the Euening spent, great griefe it was to mée,
For to forgo the sight of him, which earst before did sée.
[Page] Unto a chamber faire and swéete,
Here the Author is brought by Reason to his bed called rest.
he brought me to a bed,
All rest it hight, whereon was layde a pillow for mine head:
I neuer was before so layde, Rest there so did me staye,
That I forgat betime to rise, till Sol foreshewde the daye.
No sooner I awaked was, out of my slumbring sléepe,
The noise of Birdes made me to muse, whose notes and tunes were swéete,
To sée what sluggish sléepe could doe, when man desireth reast:
Euen like an Asse bereft from wit, compared to a beast.
Full soone I start then fro my bed, as one which lost had Time,
Still searching how I might deuise to flie my former crime:
With that I met Obedience, which brought me to a place,
Where I did sée the Vertues all, a wo [...]drous pleasant case.
Whose pulchritude did farre excell Procerpines looke or grace,
So splendent were their ornaments, that none might them deface.
Iustice iustly there did iudge, both matters right and wrong,
Fortitude and strength, also with Loue, sang there hir song.
Whose notes surpassed the Nightingale, she did me so enflame,
That I desired still to heare the swéete and pleasant Dame.
She hight the loue of Gods word pure, his name she still did prayse,
Both night and day at no time ceast, still lauding all true wayes.
There Temperance [...]ate, and Faith also, with Charitie and Hope,
Ech one with other there did sit, and Concorde set the note:
The harmonie which I there heard, would make a hart of stone
Relent, and turne from his sinne past, and cause him sore to mone
To sée the happie life and state that they alwayes were in,
And then to vewe all mortall flesh so burdened with sin:
There ioyes did not so much me glad, as sorrowes did forth slide,
When that I calde to minde, that I might not there still abide.
Sinceritie and godly Zeale to Gods precepts diuine,
With Innocencie, Grace and Light, as one, so did encline,
Sinceritie is harde to finde, and Zeale from most is fled,
Mercie and Compassion now, is thought to be neare dead.
And all true promises are broke, of few, or none is kept:
Good wayes are scarce regarded now, su [...]erbitie doth let,
Most mischiefe now beares all the [...]way, the more we may lament,
If that in time none doe foresée, be sure then to be shent.
[Page] In steade of concorde now doth raigne all wrath and cruell hate,
Among most men euerie where, with peace are at debate:
When that I heard Obedience declare the state of Time,
I loth was then to take in hande, least I should fall in crime.
So many foes about me were, that it was straunge to sée,
In euery corner where I walkte, I saw no place was frée.
With yll will from that heauenly noyse, which I before had harde,
Departed I while time did last, and Thought me wholy snarde.
As I thus musing with my selfe, my former friende me met,
In quiet chamber where I lay, by me himselfe did set,
And how I likte my place that night, whether ought did me molest,
I gaue him thanks and tolde him then, to me it was the best.
That worthie Champion Strabo hée,
Polichro. lib. 2. cap. 1. sayth, that Strab [...] saw the ships of Punie when they were. 135. mile from him.
felt no such ease by sight,
Nor yet the puissant Iason eke, for all his force and might:
The one in sight surpassed all, the other for his loue,
Aduenture did both life and lim, as stories well can proue.
Thus thanking him for my repast, which he to me had showed,
With amiable countnance, he thought it well bestowed.
Saying to me with chéerefull voyce, you may not hence depart,
Til you haue séene things straunge & old, which will reuiue your hart.
Such treasure straunge haue I to show, of which if once you sée,
For to depart from sight therof, vnwilling will you bée,
And yet no Coyne, Siluer nor Golde, no Gem nor Ouch so cléere,
Maye once compare their state to that, you neuer saw his péere,
With that he opened wide a doore, which séemed very straunge,
Both dark & dim, where mourning stood, & grudge about did raunge:
The locke wherof, was made of Glasse, the Key all Knowledge hight,
[...]he sight therof did me amase, till I espied light.
The roume was large and verie fine, replete with colours faire,
With characts straunge & pictures wrought, that shined like the aire,
The sight therof so did me quaile, wherwith I started backe,
But Vnderstanding did me stay, quoth he, what doste thou lacke?
Dismay thée not in any wise, giue eare I will thée showe,
From tristfull cares thy selfe applie, let Reason with thée growe,
The sooner mayst thou Knowledge get, and purpose eke attaine,
To follow me I thinke it best, therby the more to gaine.

¶Here Vnderstanding sheweth the Author a number of Ver­tues in the house called Reason, to withdrawe him from vaine delites, declaring the daungers that doth ensue: that done, the Author trauaileth fur­ther.

After the Author had seene euery Vertue, and considered the worthinesse of them, imagineth how he may keepe in the house of Reason, not min­ding to trauaile any further, till Vnderstanding moueth him to proceede in his iorney.

[Page] OH Venus faire, and Vesper bright, which showes the day to come,
And gladneth all such as delight to see that pleasant sonne:
That Phoebus faire, that Titan eke, nay Sol that pleasant light,
Which doth surpasse all lights on earth, who may such stile recite.
The splendent hue and pulchritude of faire Helena shée,
May not compare to Sol in sight, that may in no wise grée:
Bicause the one was thrall to death, the other frée from paine,
Therfore shall Sol still haue the praise, and Helen I disdaine.
A thousand Helenes now doth reigne in pulchritude and shape,
Yet verie fewe that mindes to leaue, that, sinne for to escape.
The more may all true harts lament, to see so little care,
Of people nowe in these our dayes, that will no time beware.
Examples therfore will I show, to ech state and degree,
Of straunge things past, which carst hath bene to al that will you sée,
And how the state of things hath bene among the wilfull sort,
And pleasure eke of vertuous men, I also will report.
When wrathfull Ire first tooke in hande, that wilfull Cain to moue,
Then cruell Enuie wrought in brest, not Abel more to loue,
And why? bicause his sacrifice did still descende to grounde,
Therfore that wilfull caytife hée, sought Abel to confounde:
And when he had his brother slaine, then gan he streight to flie,
Euen like an abiect voyde of grace, as though none did him spie:
Then streight way that celestiall Ioue to wicked Cain did call,
To know where Abel was become, and who began the brall.
For that thou hast thy brother slaine, an abiect shalt thou bée,
And all thy life long still in doubt of euery plant and trée.
Debilitie shall thée possesse, thou shalt not once escape,
Sith thou hast slaine thy brother deare, I therfore will thée hate.
This Cain was he that first found out, which way the lande to till,
And was the first which did inuent, by murther man to kill.
Therfore as vacant lies his race, yet he much issue had,
And when he was fled from the Lord, in Nod, he there him clad.
The rest I minde not to recite, now forwarde will I goe,
To showe in order many things, and eke that mortall foe,
Mysandros he, that cruell fiende, which séekes all flesh to spill,
If he once may the maistrie get, then bréedes he nought but yll.
[Page] God graunt therefore all Christian harts, his lawes to haue in minde,
And that we may with hart and will, detest all horrors blinde:
To practise therfore in the life, all vertuous facts to vse,
No other way is there to finde, therfore the light doe chuse.
Remember well the valiant déedes, that Sampson did, when hee
The Lion fierce first slew with might, as plainly we may sée:
When that he vnto Thamnates went, not farre out of the way,
The Lion fierce did him assaile, bereft he was from pray.
And also when that he in mirth, a Riddle did declare,
Amidst the banquet where they sate, with all their gorgeous fare,
Not one of thirtie could assoyle, nor once tell what it ment,
Till they by slily drifts had wonne, of hir which did repent.
He twise by women was deceyude, for all his force and strength,
And by his foes so handled was, he lost his eyes at length.
But when his locks were growne againe, three thousand sure he flew,
And brake the piller that chiefe stay, of those which did him vew,
And thus through indignation, to voyde the former wrong,
The Philistines he so did annoye, that dolefull was their song.
By Dolor so they alwayes sought, by yre they still did flie,
And he to ende his restlesse dayes, amidst his foes did die:
That fonde foole Dianira shée, in hoping loue to finde,
A shirt enuenomde she did sende, not witting to hir minde,
In hope to haue got Hercules with hir againe to bée,
And he therwith was poysoned, himselfe he could not frée.
And to be brent in such a flame, by Dolor euer was,
That Nessus fell, hir did deceyue, to late she cride alas:
As one bereft from worldly ioye, when that he felt the smart,
In firie flame he did consume, both body bones and hart.
The mightie Caesar in likewise, to death full soone was brought,
By such as he nothing suspect, full soone his death they sought:
With bodkins sharpe they did him pierce, till all his bloud was spent,
In stede of pitie irefull yre, this murther did inuent.
Thus flickring Fame doth bost abrode, in euery lande and coste,
The cruell facts of froward mindes, among both least and moste,
This Tragedie is not vnknowne, nor may not slide from minde,
Refraine therfore all irefull hate, show not thy selfe vnkinde.
[Page] The worthie Alexander king,
Cassand [...]r was sonne to Antipa­ter which poysoned the king Alexander in Babi­lon.
that conquerour so great,
Was poysned by Cassandrus as he sate at his meat,
Which poyson was so venemous, that nothing might it holde,
Except the hoofe of some horse foote, wherin they did it folde.
Antipater first tooke in hand, by Dolor he most fell,
Who séekes in euery land and cost, all states to vaunt and quell,
Lament ye Gods in Chrystall throne, let fall your brinish teares,
With parched face and bloubred eyne, at wrath doe stop your eares.
Where is become that Troian stout, the worthie Hector hée,
Bereft full soone by fatall chaunce in stories we may sée.
That worthie Gréeke Achilles he, at Troian siege was slaine,
Two worthy Champions of renowne, lo, death is now their gaine.
Such is the force of Dolor fell, so fierce is he in fight,
That none on earth may him withstand, his powre is such, & might,
The brasen gates of Troian towne, they might not long endure,
When that Debilitie was come, to death then did procure.
I minde also to nominate the worthie Romaine eake,
Plutarchus in Romana historia ad M. Viniciū sayth, that one Titi­us slew Pampey, but Poli­chronicon, that yong Ptolomie did cut of his head, and sent it to Iulius Cesar think [...]ng to haue done him great pleasure, but he was therwith verie sorie.
Pompey by name, which lost his head by Ptolomeus feate,
When Pompeius came vnto his Court, desiring him of ayde,
Forthwith he tooke from him his ring, and causde him to be stayde.
The loftie and couragious hart of worthie Hanniball,
Might not withstand the poysned ring, to late for cure to call:
When he on fingar once had set, then streight began his paine,
So ended he his life also, in earth his corps remaine.
Likewise Agamemnon he, by meane of his false wife,
Was slaine through Engist crueltie, and so bereft from life,
His long absence at Troian siege, did not hir like a whit,
Ne lusty Youth could not asswage, thus she to vice was knit.
The like sequele made an ende of Holofernes stout,
His tyrannie coulde not preuaile, nor eke his powre or rout:
By Iudith he to ende was brought, euen subiect vnto death,
After much mirth and i [...]litie, full soone he lost his breath.
That worthie Quéene and Matron shée, whose praise is without ende,
Did séeke alwayes hir owne to saue, and countrie to defende.
With godly zeale and feruent minde, she to the Lord did call,
And he as Iudge omnipotent, by hir destroyed them all.
[Page] With hammer and with nayle that Cicera was slaine,
By Iahel she that worthy wife, whose fame shall still remaine,
Wherby the Israelites as then destroyde their mortall foes,
Loe, thus can God doe when he list, Debilitie disclose.
And Ioab with his dagger sharpe, did Abner pierce to hart,
When he thought least of present death, full soone began his smart:
Thus cankerd yre doth alwayes lurke, till he hath brought to passe,
Not fearing him whose fatall stroke, doth make him crie alasse.
Goliah that Philistian, what got he by his strength,
By Dauid he was put to flight, for all his force at length:
It is not in the strength of man to doe what thinkes him best,
Therfore regarde the lawes of God, so shall you finde most rest.
Hammon he was iudgde by right, sith he a gallowes made,
Thereon to hang as reason woulde, for that he would enuade,
To rule and doe as he thought best, through pride he was detest:
And Mardocheus was preserude, for Hester looude him best.
Bicause he was both true and iust, and one that feared God,
Therfore she did preserue and kéepe him from that cruell rod.
Who therfore séekes an others fall, doth oft himselfe disease,
And féeles the like to come to passe, when naught may else appease.
A thousand mo I could recite, if néede should so require,
But these I thinke sufficient, where reason hath desire.
God graunt all men the truth to loue, and so to run ech race,
In the supernall heigth aboue, to haue a byding place:
But such as will the Worldlings feare, and not the Lorde aboue,
Be sure that such shall neuer sée, the ioyes of life to proue:
Feare God and those that preach the truth, the other count as vaine,
And then be sure to rest in ioyes, when others shall in paine.
Vnderstanding saide to me,
Here Un­derstan­ding gi­ueth the Author charge to be minde­full of that which is shewed.
the fourth part is vnséene,
And things of worthie Memorie, which long agoe hath béene.
But for this time, this shall suffice, from hence we will depart,
And sée that you in any wise, doe not forget in hart:
But rather sée thou meditate, or contemplate in minde,
These worthie notes not to forget, as earst I haue assignde,
Sée that you do, your selfe employe, let Time not from you slide,
Encrease doe you sanguinitie, with Loue, your former guide.
[Page] And so we came as friendes, from out of place where wée
Had long togithers communed, of ech state and degrée,
The house of Reason so it hight, where Iustice true doth bide,
Mercie and Compassion eke, not one from thence doth slide.
As we came forth with whole Iudgement and wise Consideration,
I pondred then what things I saw, by Wisedomes sage narration,
Displeasant gan delights to spring, with most assured doubtfulnesse,
With painfull pangues & dolefull care, appered then Disquietnesse.
Bicause I had not séene the rest, a griefe it was to mée,
For that I thought the greater part in Time I might not sée.
When that from out of place we were, amasde I was to thinke,
Of Dolor fell which would assaile, and with his force me linke.
Debilitie as then not neare, which made me lesse to feare,
Ne yet no part or show therof, against me did vpreare:
And also Vnderstanding he, so saide to me his minde,
That if I would not from him start,
Here Un­derstan­ding com­forteth the Author.
no time would be vnkinde.
By me thou shalt know all the force, of fierce Debilitie,
And how he doth order mankinde, from eche state and degrée,
And what the armor is that he, is fortified with all,
And at what time he doth subuert, and whom he first doth call.
Not one that féeble is and weake, his force may once abide,
No Fort nor Fortresse may withstand, nor none may from him slide.
The sight of Banner once displayde, scarce one dares him withstande,
In no place where I erst haue bene, on sea and eke on lande.
When frosen harts with fonde desire, doe thinke to ouer run,
Then Antropos like flaming fire vpon them soone doth come,
Whose force is such, the time once past, the corps then comes to dust,
To irefull yre a boyling bath, loe, this is full discust.
The Spider labors still to make, a web to snare the flies,
So Sathan he attendant is, with falshoode and with lies,
To catch in trap if that he can, and by what meanes to get,
The simple soule into his power, he daily layes his net.
When we thus ended had our talke, straight made I preparation,
My selfe to arme, I then thought best, auoyding desolation:
For all the haste I might not passe, till I had broke my fast,
By Reason he I tooke my leaue, departing so at last.
[Page] A thousande thankes I gaue him then, for my repast and chéere,
And promist him assuredly, before him to appéere,
At no time to forget the wordes, which he to me had sayde,
If I once might from daungers scape, which made me sore afrayde.
Thou Reader mark what this doth meane, from vice I do thée warne,
By figured shew thy life to mende, thy selfe to kéepe from harme:
Although thou finde that seemeth straunge, as Dolor, Time, & Zeale,
Such messengers they represent, all vice they warne to quele.
Debilitie doth signifie, the inward griefe of minde,
Which doth decrease through cruell thought, therto are most assignd:
Then Dolor he doth represent, the carking care of man,
Whose gréedie minde séekes all to get, still doing what he can,
In all estates both hie and lowe, they loue so worldly mucke,
That when they shal depart this life, their sinne from life doth pluck:
The life I meane which lasteth still, in the supernall throne,
Where Gods elect in rest doth dwell, from all wo, griefe and mone,
Beare well in minde, all that is past, the better shalt thou knoe,
In that which restes for to be read, to rid thée from thy foe.

The Author by Reason taketh his iourney, and recey­ueth the Speare of Regiment.

Will, his horse no sooner feeling himselfe ready to iourney, beginnes to runne in the fielde of Worldly pleasure, showing himselfe so couragious, that to staye his wilfull boldnesse the Author is sore vexed and w [...]ried, yet at the length through much a doe, the Author forceth him to staye.

[Page] FOrthwith I leapt vpon my horse, which ready was preparde,
Will, hée hight, which fewe may rule, as earst I haue declarde.
Thus being ready forth to iourne, he gaue to me a Speare,
The which was shod with Regiment, my foes to quell and feare.
Which friendly Reason willed me, and Vnderstanding eak [...],
Both gaue me charge, in any wise, not once their lawes to breake.
Thus iournyng forth with courage good, till I espide a straight:
The present Time, it called was, which mindes on none to wait.
To some the way is large & brode, yea long ere they can finde
The ende therof, such is their lot, by Ioue aboue assignde:
To other some both straight and short, and soone they come to ende,
Lo, what is man to striue with Time? on Ioue therfore depende.
Marke well where riches doth abounde, the Time so steales awaye,
And causes many in the ende, to perish and decay:
Bicause that such haue more regarde, vnto the wordly mucke,
And time once past to late to call, example of the Bucke,
Which Esope long ago declarde, that praisde so much his hornes,
So fell at strife with his smal legs,
Esopi fa­bulae.
that streight was staid w t thornes.
The yelping voice and sound of dogs, on sodeine made him start,
And crabbed horns which he so praisd, both wrought his deth & smart.
Such men therfore as will not sée, and haue regarde in time,
May likened be to Esopes Hart, that at his legges did pine:
Leaue off therefore from vaine delights, least they at length you staye,
And leade you from the way of life, to late then to dismaye.
But fonde desired Wilfulnesse, oft thinks it ouerpast,
When oftentimes he scarce doth touch, and he then at his last:
Both pleasure and felicitie, from Time so fléetes awaye,
Euen as the winde is left behinde, vnto their owne decaye.
Thus leauing off from troublous thought,
Here the Author is weried by his horse will, in the middest of the fielde called worldly pleasure.
I gan againe to minde
The iourney, which I tooke in hande, and how I was assignde,
Not once to stay till I had bene in euery land and coste,
Wherby that I such newes might bring, as well to least as moste.
As I began to vew the fielde, my Horse then named Will,
Began to run with such great force, no Dale he sparde nor Hill,
Till he attainde in middest of plaine, then gan him selfe to shake,
My armes and handes so weried was, that straight began to ake:
[Page] As I behelde me rounde about, the first that I there sawe,
Was a Knight with courage stout, of whome I stoode in awe:
His standing was both stiffe and strong, well weaponed and sure,
With valiant courage me abode, in armour bright and pure.
With Trauaile he so armed was, his Horse was called Paine,
And Shielde also faire painted eke, with watch that doth disdaine,
The heauie minde and slumbring sléepe, which oft on men doth fall:
Be ready therfore I you rede, regarde him that doth call.
His Cote was of a certaine Maile, the best and surest sure,
That could be sounde by Suffrance, and constant Zeale most pure:
By semblan [...] show of his attire, some trauailer to bée,
Which from some battell was escapte, as Reason showde to mée.
As I behelde him thus, me thought it good to stay a time,
To sée if that he would assayle, or vse vnlawfull crime:
As I thus musing with my selfe, to me he came amaine,
With courage stout his horse gan run, which earst was called Paine.

¶Age here beginneth to make battaile with the Author, in the fielde of worldly pleasure.

The Author after long fight, yeeldeth him selfe to Age, and receyueth his counsell, promising to fulfill all such couenants, as Age hath gi­uen charge withall, and so taking his leaue, pro­ceedeth on his iourney.

[Page] FOrthwith my Speare I set on Rest, ech other strongly stroke,
That therewithall to ground we fell, & both our speares we broke:
The dent of stroke did not dismay so much our strength and might,
But that full quickly we arose, and strongly gan to fight,
Euen like vnto a valiant knight before me did vpstart,
With Falcon strong began to strike, wherewith he made me smart:
And I as yet not voyde from strength, with trunchion of my Speare
Let slie amaine with courage eke, not yet vanquisht by feare,
So long as Regiment, my Speare, did holde and was vnbroke,
So long did I the valiant knight, kéepe off by dent of stroke,
But when he by his puisiance, my Speare had all to rent,
Then did decrease my former strength, which Ioue aboue had lent.
Thus fighting still he watched how, some mortall wounde to giue,
But I by Regiment did defende, that he me could not grieue:
His furiousnesse to me was such, that wonder was to sée,
To recompence I showed the same, amaine I strokes let flée.
When he espide my courage so, that I tooke no regarde,
A new assault he gan on me, that draue me to my warde:
His Falcon strong and sharpe also, did me so much annoye,
That to defende then was I faine, my selfe so to employe.
Full many a stroke I did awarde, till all my Speare was rent:
I then was faine to draw my sword, yet loth for to relent,
Although he séemde to vanquishe me, I did the best I mought,
Till he so strake vpon my head, that faine I was to stoupe.
This combat was in such sort fought, that nought remained whole,
Both flesh and armour sore was cut, thus Age doth deale his dole.
My shielde with strokes almost he claue, whereon was all my staye,
As yet he coulde me not subuert, nor once my hope dismaye.
Thus eche of vs still laboured, the vtmost of our powre,
But lacking breath were faine to staye, the space of halfe an howre:
Full glad was I and [...] wise, to leaue this cruell fight,
Till we attained had some strength, and so recouerde might.
As I thus breathing on the ground, full well then did beholde,
That g [...]i [...]y Age which we ass [...]ide, with countnance grim and bolde,
Then with my selfe I [...], how I might know, where hée
Did most remaine, and in what coste, as after you shall sée.
[Page] WIth Loue so much enflamde I was, that streight to him I spake,
O Knight most worthy sayde I then, my loue to thée doe take,
And show to me if that thou please,
Corrineus came and arriued w t Brute at the Ile of Tot­nesse in Cornwall, and there in wrast­ling, slew Gogina­gog a Gy­ant, which there inha­bited, as sayth Po­lychroni­con. &c. of Corrineus came the name of Cornwall, and Cor­nishmen. Some af­firme that Cornwall came of Cornu a borne, bi­cause it is fashioned like a horn in circuite or cōpasse, which may so be: but bicause the first is the older, I doe sup­pose that to be the truest.
thy name and eke thy place,
And then as friendes we hope to grée, from yre, to ioyes solace.
If thou wilt show thy name to me, to satisfie my minde,
Demaunde the like if thée it please, I ready am assignde,
To show to thée the like againe, graunt me now my request,
And from henceforth thou shalt me finde, obedient vnto rest.
He aunswerde me with héedfull speach, with words most soft and wise,
I am of royall bloud discend, and wilfull youth despise,
I am of more knowne on the earth, than euer Hector was,
Or Corrin stout which slew by might, the Giant tough as brasse,
My proper name is called Age, the Register of Truth,
Which notes the time of euery one, wherby great good ensuth,
No force of youth may me withstande, although he doe excell,
In Marshall feates and prowes eke, though thousands he doe quell.
This plaine of Time, which thou art in, not one may ouergoe,
But by my leaue and ayding helpe, therby the way to knoe,
For he that thinkes from me to scape, his labour is in vaine,
To striue with me he doth but get, great sorrow, griefe and paine.
Perforce to me hey néedes must come, there is no saying nay,
Except they die in youthfull yeares, then come they not this way:
What froward and malignant foole, would séeme to striue with Age,
When lustie youth I win with force, and make him serue as Page.
And forasmuch as thou art now, thus fallen on my hande,
Thy selfe in time doe yeelde to me, thou mayst not me withstande,
My puissant force thou soone shalt finde, if thou wilt not relent,
An aunswere quickly therfore giue, least after thou repent.
When he to me had sayde these words, me thought I felt as still,
A remnant left of youthfull strength, whereby I fearde no ill,
With that he gaue defiance stout, wherby I set no store,
So gan the battaile much more fell, than all the time before.
His Falcon houge did so me daunt, my Speare then being broke,
Whereon was grounded all my might, no more to giue a stroke.
When thus my force was broken cleane, then gan I to dismay,
Yet fighting still the best I coulde, while Courage did me stay.
[Page] And after this the easier, to bring me to decaye,
Frome he tooke my shielde of hope, without further delay:
By dent of Falcon valiant, so sore did me pursue,
Without resistance at the length, by state of age I grue.
Thus feeling in my selfe at length both very weake and faint,
Not able to continue so, his strokes me did restraint:
To thinke vpon the youthfull race, and now to Age must bowe,
With sobbing cares and inward thoughts,
Here the Author [...]cideth to Age.
to Age I made a vowe:
Requiring him to pardon me, and take me as his thrall,
Thus faine was I my selfe to yéelde, not knowing what would fall.
To striue with Age I thought it vaine, then gan I straight to say:
Require of me what you thinke good, I truely will it pay.
With that he did withdraw himselfe, and ceased from the fight,
And tooke my Gauntlet of my hande, as conquered by right:
Most louingly with semblant showe, he tooke me by the hande,
And saide if I would ruled bée,
Bellephe­ton was a Knight of Arges, and serued king Pir­cus: Aurea was wife to Pircus which sought the Knights death, for not consen­ting to hir adulterie.
no foes should me withstande.
For as the seruant ought by right, his Maisters words to kéepe,
So oughtest thou most faithfully, no iot from this to fléete:
If that thou be, then be thou sure, not periured to bée,
Let Aurea king Pircus wife, example be to thée.
When that she saw Béllepheron woulde not to hir consent,
She euer after sought by meanes, a mischiefe to inuent:
And at the length she did complaine, and tolde the King in déede,
That he accomplish would his will, by force he had decréede.
But he like to a valiant knight, hir mischiefe did preuent,
And so by Pircus was assignde, to fulfill his intent,
Which was to kill a monster fell, and then pardned to bée:
So forth he saylde the place to finde, thus was their whole decree.
Thus euery faithfull Knight is bounde, by iustice and by lawe,
To kéepe in minde and to fulfill, and not to stand in awe.
All promyses with right to kéepe, the truth to ayde with might,
For that pertaines as chiefe renoume, to euery worthy knight.
No greater fame on earth may be, then Truth to beare the swaye,
Therfore to Truth so bende thy minde, that is the surest waye.
The promyse made by true aduice, for no man doe forgoe,
Then be thou sure at all assayes, to spoyle thy mortall foe,
[Page] Giue eare to mée and marke my wordes,
Here Age giueth his charge to the Au­thor.
and so kepe them in [...].
That from henceforth thou prosper mayest, therto thy selfe incline:
Such amorous and daintie Dames, that venerie doth seeke,
From such sée thou in any wise, no company doe kéepe.
And also those whereas their Lords by fraude their house doe kéepe,
With Flatterie and eke Deceit, in no wise such doe gréete.
Arme thou thy selfe alwayes with Truth, and thereto giue delight,
Then be thou sure frō such to scape, which Truth alwayes doth spite.
There is no man that I accompt once reasonable to bée,
That dreadeth not such wicked thought, as thou full well shalt sée.
Wherfore if that thou wilt attaine the state of worthie Age,
At all times sée thou doe refraine,
The Po­etes haue feyned that Cerberus was por­ter of hell, hauing iij. heads, which heades were three vices, couetous­nesse, mur­der, and lechery.
from Cerberus seruage.
The worthie state of wedlocke kéepe, beware of Sathans snare,
If not, be sure at length to wéepe, and eke to féele great care:
For he that is desirous, eyther Mayde or Wife to foyle,
Let him be well assurde that he, in hell therfore shall broyle.
Let honest mariage thée suffice, and be therwith content,
Then God will blesse both Youth & Age, with grace thée to frequent:
The Zodomites destroyde were, bicause of filthy life,
With teares lament thy former dayes, at such be still at strife.
Both deede and thought let still be pure, from vice doe alwayes flie,
Cast vice away behinde thée so, least in the ende thou die:
On thy left hande doe thou it leaue, account it none of thine,
And to my wordes haue good regarde, away from vice decline,
From following of diuerse Courtes, I likewise doe thée warne,
For where much people doe resort, there lightly bréedeth harme:
The olde Prouerbe is certaine sure, after d [...]ibling commeth durt,
So where much people doe resort, in some doth mischiefe lurke.
A number sure haue bene decayde, whose youthfull yeares haue spent,
And all to get renowmed fame, in Age awaye are sent,
Though one among a hundreth, a fléece haue got by paine:
A thousand to that one, I saye, in base estate remaine.
Climbe thou therfore so for renowme, with Reason and with Time,
Therby to ioy in that thou hast, and voyde thy selfe from crime,
For he that wades for dead mens shoes, may chance at length go bare,
And when he thinkes to haue his fill, on bare walles he may stare.
[Page] Where extréeme pouertie doth dwell, there dolefull dayes are sto [...],
Prouide therfore in time doe thou, that thou mayst haue the more.
Of meate and drinke and clothing eke, thy state for to supply,
For pouertie abhorred is, and naught of rich set by.
Beholde the forrest of Lost time, take héede thou come not there,
Nor enter not in any wise, therof be thou in feare.
For he that loyrers all his life, and mindes no art to learne,
Shall beare the bob in Disserds schoole, and grind in Mo [...]us querne.
To Idlenesse haue no desire, some practise put in vre,
And minde to liue as I haue taught, by Sapience sage demure,
In any wise Gods lawes obey, the better shalt thou liue,
To put in vre that I haue sayde, as Truth doth counsell giue,
Those things that yong men take in hande, concerning great renoune,
Is of their owne both cost and charge, if they in welth aboune:
The gallant gréene and youthfull mindes, desires to bring to passe,
Aduenturing so long till some, therfore doe crie alasse.
Take héede in time, the best way séeke, the more shall be thy gaine,
Thy bodie eke in strength shall grow, so lesse will be thy paine.
When that thou shalt haue cause to deale, in combats sharpe and fell,
Thou mayst thereby be able then thy foes full soone to quell.
If so it chaunce that thou decrease, not able to withstande,
Yet faint not thou in any wise, giue not distrust thy hande,
With feruent zeale and constant faith, thy selfe so yéelde in time,
That thou therby thy soule mayst saue, and so be rid from crime,
Though all the fierie furies were, with Plutos rage in place,
And Osmodeus ready dight, yet naught could they deface,
What got the furious serpent fell, when he iust Iob did paine,
Could he therby obtaine his will? no, no, this is certaine:
The chiefest point which doth behoue, all men to kéepe in déede,
Is perfect Faith and Charitie, therein still to procéede,
Now haue A showed vnto thée, sée well vnto thy charge,
Passe not the limits giuen to thée, row thou in no such barge.
I aunswerde him by feruent Age,
The Au­thor agre­eth to the counsell of Age.
his charge so to obserue,
That I at no time would forget, but with all powre conserue,
And kept so well his charge, that I at no time would detect,
With diligence and constant zeale, in no wise to neglect.
[Page] On that condicion sayde he then,
Age licen­seth the Author to trauayle further.
take now thy leaue to goe,
Beware I saye, doe not forget, make not thy friende thy foe,
Ponder well all my precepts, the better mayst thou iorne,
A thousand streights thou needes must passe, and not againe retorne.
Straight waye from him I did depart, through the desert of Age,
When that my state discouered was, it forste me not to rage,
According to appointed Age, aduenture to obtaine,
I passed so the nighest wayes, with Will I rode amaine.
Thus as I rode I thought vpon the worthie Champion stout,
In that he did so friendly deale, with me when I came out:
Both horse and armour he me gaue, as friende and not as foe,
A Gorget eke he did prepare, therby me still to knoe,
Which altered somewhat my state, when I graye heares espide,
And yet for all that, loth to leaue, had not bene néere my guide,
That Memorie so did me moue, my othe not to misuse,
That therewith nothing me dismayde, ne counsell to refuse.
Thus when Age, had all sayd his minde, and ended of his talke,
About his charge he did attend, and I from him did walke,
And I as one full bent to iorne, deuised then some song,
How I might kéepe the promise made, and time I thought full long,
Incontinent I turned backe, in light escried I Age,
Within my face did then appeare, with countnance grim and sage,
To flie him fro I thought it vaine, therfore I did embrace,
And ioyfull then was of my state, though youth from me he chase.
As time did passe I rode me vp, vpon a mountaine hie,
The whole race there of all mankinde, full soone I did eserie,
I being thus aloft did muse, which way for to discende,
And sodainly I was conuaide, vnto the lower ende.
For in the life of man it is, more difficult to rise,
In climbing hie the rocke of Faith, God graunt that non [...] despise,
Full prone is man through Adams fall, and loth also to clime,
Or any paines to take in hande, wherby to voyde his crime.
As I began in all the haste, my wayes for to direct,
The desert huge did néere approche, the which I did detect,
And then like as the snayle consumes himselfe with créeping long,
In like estate my selfe neare brought, if I had further throng.
[Page] The windes full calmely there did blow, me thought it did me ease,
Likewise to smell the pleasant fumes, a time did me much please,
In outward show it séemde to bée, a place and ioyous rest,
Within all yre and crueltie, which doth the truth detest.
This building faire doth signifie, the world both fresh and gaye,
Which by his subtile practises, himselfe a time doth staye,
The Damsels eke are vices fell, which doth mans hart infect,
Alluring such as with them mell, and so themselues detect.
In practising of vaine delights, thereto they giue their mindes,
And for to climbe aloft they hie, such would excell the windes,
But when they are aloft in déede, there vaine and carnall winges,
By heate of sunne consumes awaye, with other dreadfull thinges.
Then Sathan he his trumpe doth blowe, which Horror called is,
For soye he skippes aloft in ayre to vew those that be his.
Thus haue shewed the full effect of this my simple minde,
Take well in worth, repent with spéede, shew not thy selfe vnkinde.
The lawes of God are manifest, thou neuer more were taught,
Beware therfore of fond desires, such trifles count as naught,
The olde Prouerbe is certaine sure, the best doth longst endure,
The best in time therfore doe séeke, let déedes this put in vre.

The Author being caried by his horse Will to the palace of disor­dered liuers, seeing then the abuse of all vertues, and the mainte­nance of filthy luxuria, remembreth his promise made to Age, loo­keth in the glasse of reformation, straight taketh his iorney, forsa­king vtterly those abuses.

The Author seeing Abusion of all ordered vertues, so deckt like a foole, suspecteth that all the rest inhabiters, are no fit companions, concerning his promise to Age, leaueth all and [...]e [...]arteth with Memorie.

[Page] NOw shall I showe thée all the state, by order and decrée,
How euerie one in his attire themselues did show to mée,
But first of all their minstrelsic, and then eche one by name,
And how at length I did escape, whereby I got my fame.
A Pilgrime right I may be callde, bicause I neuer rest,
In séeking out on sea and lande, that which may like me best:
The straunge report of Authors olde, so much enflamde my minde,
That I therewith euen forced was, the Indian lande to finde,
From ship to lande, my selfe to ease, great combats did I fight,
Till Antropos at length me met, and so bereft of might.
Unto my matter taken in hande, I purpose now to goe,
And so forth on vnto the ende, my voyage straunge to shoe,
A thousand soundes of instruments most musicall I harde,
Whose harmonie was callde Deceit, in eche degrée preparde,
A number there began to daunce, Deceit so did them please,
With skippes aloft they gan to friske, although to some small ease.
Deceit so finely did set forth, hir dulcent harmonie,
That me almost she had néere caught, into hir companie:
A while me thought no pleasure like, might be compared sure,
Orpheus he for all his mirth,
Pluto son to Sa­turne, the Poets fei­ned that he was the diuell of Hell.
might not with these endure.
Who sought his wife full many a day, in Hell where Pluto king,
Helde hir as his, till he by mirth, from thence apace did bring:
But ere he was all daungers past, not minding no Deceate,
That Pluto he tooke hir againe, he wrought this craftie feate,
Thus as I neere approcht the gate, a Porter there I sawe,
Which called was Abusion, of whome I stoode in awe,
But when I knew his force and strength, then straight to him I spak [...]
Desiring him to aunswere me, which he did not forsake.
Saying, this pallace faire and fresh, wherein so many are,
Is verie straunge for me to tell, thus he began to snare,
With loftie chéere, but scorning voice, those which thou séest aboue,
I tell thée plaine is vile Delight, the place is called Loue.
It hight the loue of worldly welth, with pleasures of the same,
Thus haue I showed thée all the state, wherein they still doe game:
His words me moued to retire, not once to minde such loue,
But vile desire did what she could, and thereto did me moue.
[Page] To enter in among the rest, she did me much procure,
With striuing I sure féeble was, not able to endure.
Good Memorie did me defende, which vnto life do runne,
And charged me to flie desire, as I had earst begonne.
Forthwith was showed to me a glasse, wherein I saw full cléere,
The former facts that I had done, as well those past as néere.
Within that glasse espide I Age, which noted well my trade,
And frowning browes to me he bent, awaye consumde as shade:
Bicause I did so small regarde, mine othe and promise iust,
He shewed himselfe most wrathfull still, euen bent to bate my lust,
No sooner I graye heares espide, and face with wrinkles full,
My youthfull courage then decreased, lo thus did Age me pull.
Yet Lust and eke Concupiscence, assaulted me so sore,
By their attempt I scarce could get, then languisht I the more,
In sorrowes fell and deadly thoughts, had not Remembrance bin,
No way coulde I escape them sure, from that allured sin.
But Memorie declarde to me,
By the corse, the Author meaneth the whole state of the earthy man, being corrupted in sinne.
such words of liuely force,
That streight to hir I did incline, and yéelded straight my corce,
As one full bent no more to straye, hir counsell did I craue,
And she forthwith did show full plaine, which way my selfe to saue.
No man that liueth on the earth, may sinne so from him moue,
Therfore to suffer paines thou must, so doth it thée behoue:
For Sathan he will tempt thée still, and doe the best he can,
To trap thée fast in deadly sinne, such is his trade with man.
Therfore in time doe call to minde, away will go thy youth,
And séeke those things that will thée saue, for troubles oft ensuth:
Disturbe not once thy memorie in things that passe thy wit,
For who doth so, by fraude is caught, for thée it is vnfit.
And albeit Concupiscence and Lust doe thée assayle,
Refraine them still, then be thou sure, in time thou mayst not quayle.
When I had well behelde them both, then did I vnderstande,
Their counsels tolde to be deceit, and foes to euerie lande.
Forthwith I called Memorie, wherein stoode all my staye,
Desiring hir me to excuse, from Lust I tooke my waye,
If any of these errors fell, doe after me inquire,
Say that you know not where I am, let them returne with yre.
[Page] Thus in the ende all was but vaine, that Lust doth take in hande,
That Memorie by sundry wayes, releast me from their bande,
From them she did me still defende, and brought me in plaine way,
For ioy therof I did reuiue, thus was she still my stay.
With courage then I tooke in hande, from wilfull fraude and guile,
Wherein I saw no reason was, at those I gan to smile,
Deceit and Guile fast brideled were, for knowing any good,
In deserts drie I left them all, and Reason by me stood,
Who bade me say, adewe fonde loue, now bid I thée farewell,
God graunt that I, nor no man else, desire with hir to mell,
Considering hir vaine estate, and hir deceitfull loue,
To quietnesse my hart I set, fonde loue no more to proue.
Not one estate that she regardes, if she in them beare swaye,
Who list or will know hir therfore, sure bréedes his owne decaye:
By Reason doe thy selfe content, let Vnderstanding guide,
For they are those whose beautie shines, surpasse the worlde wide.
The mightie Ioue that sittes on hie, full well all states doth vewe,
The verie secretes of mens hartes, oft times he chaunges a newe,
If that in time they doe repent, with faithfull minde in déede,
He ready is vs to forgiue, and that with feruent spéede:
Forth on my voyage iorned I, with will and good intent,
My faithfull promise to fulfill, by Ages commaundement,
Thus as I rode by Dale and Hill, I ganne my way to vew,
And straight appéered I in sight of Age before I knew.
Where I on sodeine was beset, with sights both huge and straunge,
The aire full dimme began to shine, a show of state to chaunge:
The earth began to tremble eke,
By wea [...]ed Age is meant the vnpro­fitable time spent, the state of Age is barren, when there is no fruits of good life appearing.
it made me quake for feare,
Infections forth also gan flie, which did much empeare,
With miseries replenished with carefull paine and griefe,
No lande it is of profite sure, wherein doth rest reliefe,
For paine to paine there doth resort, ech other so doth paye,
Thus wearied Age in barren lande, a time doth beare his swaye:
The trées that there are, beares no fruite, so barren is the grounde,
But thornes sharp which sore doth grieue, there sorowes doth abound
Nothing at all that beareth tast, a dungeon like it is,
Most tenebrous withouten light, yet fewe that lande doth misse.
[Page] Most ruinous this place is sure, there dolors doe increase,
Of vitaile eke there cometh none, whereby Age to release:
The Well springs there full bitter are, and called Violation,
So were the named sinnes their first state, of darkned inclination,
No sunne nor Moone there doth appeere, no light at all is séene,
No goodnesse there may haue recourse, beware such trap or grin,
Dispaire, Dispraise, Disdaine and Ire, so rules this place or lande,
That Loue & Truth with cōstant Zeale may not w t these gests stād.
No place at all once Helth to finde, he will not there abide,
Nor Gladnesse she may not be séene, if wrath hir once haue spide,
This vacant lande that barren is, euen froward Age doth show,
Which ruled is by fonde desire, ouer such Gods wrath doth flow,
An other Ilande yet there is, not farre from Violation,
Infirmitie also it hight, most full of perturbation,
Decrepitie there bends his sayle, so long as aire giues breath,
And in the ende preuayles so trim, that health he turnes to death.
As yet I came not in that place, but sure I felt the smell,
Which represents to me my state, as Time full well can tell,
To thinke thereon it doth me feare, with tremblings low I quake,
For that I know the count is great, that I to Ioue must make.
Full sore I languish in my hart, for to sée the worlde nowe,
Without regard of life to come, from thence they bende and bowe,
A number mindes no life I trow, ech man himselfe doth loue,
And to relieue y e poore they grudge, no threats their minds may moue
Our weakenesse and infirmitie, no lasting lyfe can get,
On what then doth man hope vpon, himselfe he doth but let:
For while he striues to get renowme, the thred of life is cut,
On sodaine thus he leaues behinde, that he so much did glut.
Beware of fonde desired life, of Ill will and Dispaire,
For they as Mates togither are, and Attropos chiefe aire,
Those thrée doth bring a double death, I say therfore beware,
Their path doe flie, receyue them not, nor row with no such fare,
No kinde of benefit there is, that may compare to health,
If it be such as euill holdes, then bréedes it but small wealth,
No euill is on earth certaine, of nomination small,
But if that thou employe to it, will be a plague mortall:
[Page] The life of man may likened be, vnto a barren lande
With oughten people it to till, or there to liue and stande,
Which lieth so all ouergrowne, with Bremble, Brier, and Thorne,
So man deuoyde from vertues grace, by Daemon straight is torne.
Auoyde therfore the path of ire, feare not Debilitie,
Decrepitie, nor none of his, may stay eternitie:
Yelde thou thy selfe with all thy griefes, to the eternall king,
And call for grace while thou hast space, to Ioue he will thée bring.

By the aged or olde man traueling in the wood, is signified the desert of Age, that is, when youth is consumed, and the vi­tall powers decreased, mans time is nothing else but paine of body possessed with Dolor and Debilitie, still looking for the last combat, which is Death.

In the desert of Age there is no going out, decrepite or consumation of the body may not escape the prefixed time appointed. Also the Author goeth further, being not yet come to Decrepitie, and sheweth of certaine combats done by diuers valiant Champions, as followeth.

[...]
[...]
[Page] AS I thus was in the desert, from Age no way to flye,
I thought then best with him to staye, so stoode I him fast by,
Thus with my selfe I did agrée, with Age to be content,
So wish I those, that Age will sée, least after they repent.
But yet a number I did see, that Age did much disdaine,
In painting out their faces gaye, and woulde not thence refraine,
Till Age decreast so much their state, by force he made them yéelde,
For wrath therof they did proclaime, to combat in the féelde.
Dame Daintie first began the broyle,
These combats were fought in the vale of [...]gnorance, being in the midst of the land called lost time.
by Ignorance assent,
Which hoped sure poore Age to kill, this was hir whole intent,
Full fast on rest she set hir speare, on Pride, she rode amaine,
Therby she thought so Age to feare, thus did she him disdaine,
By graue assent he did retire, a time to sée when shée,
Would leaue hir yre, and go hir waye, or vnto him agrée:
Dame Littlewit when that she sawe, that Age gan to retire,
With vaine Beautie on Age she strake, in hope of hir desire.
But when he had got all these Mates togithers on a rowe,
Then he let flie, Time past and gone, and made them him to knowe:
This combat sure was maruelous, it caused me to smile,
To sée those fooles so trimly deckt, themselues deceyued by guile.
Thus were they faine forthwith to yéelde as captiues vnto Age,
And to leaue off their fonde attire, for all their force and rage,
Dame Flattrie with haste came in, with worldly pleasures fine,
Receites for Dames therwith to paint their parched face to shine.
Dame Meretrix with brodered heares, a wooden face she had,
For nothing she ashamed was, Luxuria so hir clad:
With irefull voice she gan to rayle, for losing of hir Mates,
And brought with hir Dame Flingbraine so, w t many other states.
Whose names I minde so to recite, in order if I can,
That all that reades this booke maye know, those furies to withstan,
Dame Ire and Idell louing Mates, Dame Discord and Pick thanke,
Beldame Coy, and maistresse Nice, with Prater sauce and cranke.
These hoped sure a fresh to fight, they did their verie best,
But all in vaine, such was their gaine, he them so long opprest,
That they were faine by cruell paine, of force he made them bow,
Thus were they forced to flie amaine, frō youth they knew not how.
[Page] So fonde desire of Brainsick fooles oft bréedes their owne decay,
When they in time will not foresée, but follow still their sway.
The enuious foole séekes still to striue, yea though he haue the worse,
Decreasing still his owne estate, and goes with thred bare purse.
Where Prodigalitie doth raigne, and fonde Suberbitie:
With such as may no state maintaine, such bréedes their miserie.
The one by large expence consumes the whole his father got,
The other he aloft doth looke from vertue sure a blot.
Of cancred déede and filthie life they practise with such tooles,
That Ignorance shall sure them dub, to Uicar of Saint Fooles,
His Parisheners and friendly mates, whose ende is dolefull wo.
Except in time they doe foresée, some other path to go.
So lōg they stroue till Age them caught, by force he made them bowe,
And Youth so saw his state decrease, to Age he made a vowe,
Thy course so runne on boysterous seas, too high hoyse not thy sayle,
Let Reason rule, so mayst thou best at all assayes preuayle.
What craft on earth can Age beguile, if man long time remaine,
Where once he comes such hold he takes, y • none may him refraine,
Till death appeares, which brings the ende, so long is he his guest,
Euen to the graue he doth all bring, a time the bodies rest.
Now to declare the ayrie state, some what I minde to saye,
Of all Complexions what they are, and how they do decaye.
Sanguine fierce and valiant, as Authors doe declare,
Melancholy full of ire, with bodie leane and bare.
In Choler he full grosse doth waxe, as grim as Bacchus grace,
And Flegmatike no cowarde is, where he may hide his face.
But where these foure in one are knit, by noble Nature shée,
There for a time the bodie spredes, euen as the herbe or trée.
But when these signes do disagrée, and Sperma doe decrease,
Then streight beginnes to putrifie, the inner parts and grease:
To drinesse then the bodie growes with parched hands and skinne,
And so continues to the ende, but Youth no more can winne.
Who woulde not trauaile all his life such science for to knoe,
As able is to rid from strife this carcasse bare and woe:
The state it selfe is nothing sure, full soone doth vade away,
No earthly thing doth long endure, but once he doth decay.
[Page] Why then is man so loth to goe, this fickle life to leaue,
Sith he so well the state doth know, he doth himselfe deceaue:
The pompeous state and worldly welth, doth many mindes so blinde,
That when they should accomptes repay, most farthest are behinde.
The Birde that in the Cage doth sing, somtimes both shrill and cleere,
In ayrie skye with better note, as doth full well appéere,
Bicause his kinde is there to be, if he the Cage may scape,
Most ioyfull then beginnes his laye, no more for feare doth quake.
But mans regarde is nothing so, the Cage of sinne to flie,
The greater plague doth oft ensue, when that the poore doth crie,
For many, goods so well doth loue, they care not how they get,
So they may haue to serue their mindes, their whole desire is set.
To matters full of iolitie, and newes both straunge and rare,
I minde to tell with modestie, no more for thought to care.
Harke now beginnes my whole pretence, though rude in eare it sound,
Yet doe not laugh till all you know, least you your selues confound:

The Author and Memorie passeth the fielde of worldly plea­sure, and after talketh of the dreadfull com­bats not yet seene.

Will his Horse as yet nothing tired, for all his long trauaile in the fielde of worldly pleasure.

[Page] AS I behelde this combat great, twixt Age and all his foes,
And how they thought him to resist, as straight I shall disclose:
And eke had vewde the barrainesse of all this ioylesse lande,
With all the incommodities that therein still doe stande.
And eke how many youthfull states began him to resist,
Although no power at all was theirs, so long for to persist.
And when as I had viewed his lande, so cast in Ilands twaine,
Infirmitie and Wearinesse, as named they remaine,
With all their scarcitie full bare, and withered place to sée,
And violations bitter streames, approching fast to mée:
I was so much appalde in minde, I wist not what to thinke,
That forced I should be so soone, of Ages Cup to drinke:
To thinke vpon my youthfull state, it grieued me apace,
Considering that my bewtie now, Age shoulde so soone deface.
Then as alone I rode full sure, appointed for to fight,
With speare made apt, for Horsemans course al harnessed so bright.
As quite despairing of my selfe, I soone hung downe my head,
And rode amased withouten spirite, as one that were halfe dead:
Espying that no Speare ne shielde, coulde saue me from such ill,
Nor long experience coulde resist, that withered Ages will.
Now entering the dale of wo alone my selfe so sad,
I gan lament my ioylesse hap, in sorowes then so clad.
I lookte about if hap I could, some other Wight espie,
That would haue tasted of the Cup, of Age, as well as I.
And staring long none I could vewe, of high nor low degrée,
Then quite dismaide I thought such chaunce, should hap to none but mée.
Well forth I rode with trembling corps, and face both wan and pale:
So entring in the hollow caue, and way to Ages dale.
With troubled braynes of wyt bereft, and saue a quaking hart,
That so a loue I should of force, sustayne suche cruell smart:
Alas sayde I haue I alone, deserued so to be,
Still looking rounde on euery side, if any I could sée.
Then thought I sure to turne agayne, and scape that crooked way,
I gan to raine stoute Will my horse, as meaning there to stay,
And backe agayne to take my course, forthwith to pleasures Féelde,
Unto whose grace, I had supposed, my body for to yéelde:
[Page] And neuer so to come agayne in perill of such wo,
If hap I could escape the pathe, of Ages Iland so:
But when I would haue raynde my horse, and so escaped out:
I sawe no way that I mought take, I put you out of doubt.
My horse was then with me dismayde, and so began to réele,
Sith he no path of stable ground, nor sitting sure could féele:
There was no comfort to be rept, but wo and much distresse,
Sith none I coulde espie, that might to me the path expresse:
Then mourning in my inward minde, I wisht I had gone still,
Forth on my way to Ages dale, that he had had his will:
And that I mought soone haue bene spent, and Age of me beguilde,
When hollow graue, with bloudie bones, of me should be defilde.
And not in such a Laberinth, of endlesse woes to wende,
As I had found in such a case, not hauing any ende.
Well: yet I thought some way to finde, and spurres I set to side,
Then leapt my horse and plunged sore, a pace forth on to glide.
And labouring full long therein, at last he founde the trade
That earst before were turned backe, in iourney we had made:
And then apace we went forth right, sore trembling and afraide,
In desert place so comfortlesse through which I was dismaide.
And thought as then to yéelde my selfe to Ages falt alone,
For all this while to take my part I sure espide none,
Till at the last when all my hope was well nigh gone and spent,
I cast my head aside: and lo, in path where as I went,
Dame Memorie againe spide, I which late from me was gone,
And when she saw me she made haste, to come to me anone:
She markt my chéere, how sad I lookte, and askte me of my chaunce,
Oh Madame Memory sayde I, in case of great gréeuaunce.
For as I déeme this is the way, to Ages ioylesse Dale,
To thinke vpon, therewith it makes my face both wan and pale:
Sith I alone must runne this race, to desert in such haste:
And that none else I can espie, of it with me to teste.
But when she hard me make such mone, and inward gro [...]i [...]g griefe,
She vttred wordes of comfort strong, to me for my reliefe:
She bade me chéere and not dismay, ne yet to make such mone,
And then she proued by Argument, I should not go [...]lone.
[Page] She made relation vnto mée, as we rode forth a pace,
How many goodly wightes before, had runne that crooked race,
And yet bicause I should not faynt, Ile ride with thée she sayde:
And kéepe you company a whyle, therefore be not afrayde.
And as we rode she ganne reherse, to me in loftie stile,
Whose comely iesture made me glad, when often she did smile,
How many kings and Princes eke, to fore that iorney came:
Whome after this we shall expresse, as she did truely name.
To my great ioye and comfort then, hir company I did kéepe,
Whose mery tales and stories true, would neuer let me sléepe,
But all the wordes of Memory, which there I marked well:
Of which I meane to make discourse, and out of hande to tell.

Here the worthy and victorious King, Henry the eyght, defen­deth hym for a tyme against Debilytie, and lyke a prudent Prince most princely, yeeldeth to his iudgement, after long fight had with Debilitie.

Valyauncie the Haroldes rideth before the King, and biddeth the Combat, being first moued thereto by Dolor and Debilitie.

[Page] FIrst that I should not all dispaire, and loth my wearied life,
She named certaine vnto me, which I remember rife,
As Adam, Noe, and diuers moe, Dauid and Salomon,
Hector, and Caesar, Iulius, and other many one:
As Pericles, and P [...]amus, and Polymon of Gréece,
Hercules and Iason stout, which wan the golden fléece,
Atreus and Agamemnon, with diuers worthie Wightes:
As Alexander Macedon subiect to fatall flightes.
Some vnto age, and some in youth by Attropos consent,
To haue the vitall thréedes cut off, and yet to be content.
And therfore thou, quoth Memorie, thinke not thy selfe so strong,
To put thy trust in Will thy horse, thy dayes for to prolong.
Ne faint to vew olde Ages gate, and palace of distresse:
Quoth she to me, for straunger newes, yet can I well expresse.
And at the last forth riding still, sayd she, cast vp thine eie,
And then forthwith a desert plaine, I gan for to espie,
Where nothing grew but withered trées, & parched grasse or ground,
And ruinous as I behelde, it séemed to be rounde:
At one side sate one full of bones, withouten flesh or skin,
With Scepter crown, & robe like clay, with trone all carued within.
And him before a Champion stoute, his Haralde sure he was,
With Cote of Armes as he did giue, loe thus it came to passe:
And on the right hand of the plaine, I saw a worthie King,
In complete Harnesse méete to fight, preparde in euery thing,
Like Alexander in his heigth, resembling Hesters grace,
Or like Achilles he did séeme, then marching on a pace:
A ken before him was a Wight, in complet harnesse thoe,
And horse well barbed vnder him, his puissance to shoe.
With Speare in hande to giue thassault, as séemed vnto mée,
A Harolde then went from the king, most gorgeous for to sée,
And did ambassage from his Grace, vnto the Champion stout,
Whose chalenge was to fight, as séemed by trauising about,
Then as [...]te I Memorie what he meant, and of the plaine by name,
And full curteously forthwith, to me did show the same:
The fielde quoth Memorie so bare, is wildernesse of Death,
Where euery mortall wight is forste to leaue his vitall breath.
[Page] The bony corps that thou doest sée,
The Ha­rolde that weareth Deaths Cote with bones, is called De­fiance.
is Death that puissant Prince,
Which with his finall Scepter doth, all earthly things conuince:
The Champion that before him is, Defiance sure is hight,
Who vilipendeth all estates for Death his Maister right.
The king quoth he in harnesse set, so bolde in lyuely grace,
Is Henry stoute of Englande king, the eyght of name and place:
Which wan such valyant battailes strong, & forrein townes laid wast,
Which rulde by prudent skill so well, and pollitique forecast.
Which brought all nations vnder feare, of his high maiestie,
Which made all forrein powers to quake, through magnanimitie.
Which first began as Iosua did, Gods foes for to dispoyle:
The same is he which first of all, gaue Antichrist the foyle.
Which brake the neck of Papistrie, and gaue a deadly wound,
Unto the Masse that romishe Hell, that did our soules confound.
The same is he which first set to, to breake the romishe clowde,
And first to sounde the Trumpet blast, of Gods true worde alowde.
Which first defied the banning Pope, and all his Bulles of lead,
And he which first denied the Pope, to be the supreme head.
Which wanne himselfe preheminence, by courage stoute and bolde:
And first began the Romishe clayme, and tytle to withholde.
And did by Target bright of faith, the Popes high cursse receaue,
And washing of the same gan first, on Christes truth to cleaue,
Which staide the Popes reuenues here, and puld the Abbeys downe,
And spoylde the Romishe lubbers all, which lurckte in euery towne.
The same is he which did commaunde, Gods pastors for to preache,
And gaue them leaue in Popes despite, Gods holye worde to teache.
The same is Henry sure the eyght, whose fame is fixt in skie:
Whose trumpe victoriously doth sound,
Here be­ginneth the Com­b [...]t twice these [...] valiant Champi­ons, Debi­litie and the worthy king Hen­rie y e eight.
whose conquest can not die.
The Wight before him is, quoth shée, Debilitie by name,
The Champion stout of Death so pale, it is the verie same:
He makes the way and winnes the fielde by weakenesse in his kinde,
Death doth triumph by his great force, as daily we may finde.
The Harolde of the King, to him, is Valiauncie in déede,
Who goeth to know the Champions minde, & what he hath decréede:
Whose aunswere is that he must néedes for all his fame relent,
And vnto Death with all the reast as first to be content.
[Page] I sure am he which Philip slue, and Alexander bothe,
Darius and that Ptholome, though they were very lothe:
So forth we went, and she with chéere, bade harken to hir talke,
For she would show me more than this, quoth she, as we do walke.
Then spurres I set to Will my horse, our iourney to passe on,
What chaunced after this, I shall declare to you anon,
To haste on waye, apace we rode, till at the length we came,
Into that vale of restlesse time, which so is callde by name.
That King in courage was so stoute, against that Champion bolde,
That scarce he could, the chalenge made, his fingars from him hold,
For he was not afraide to passe the seas with all his hoste,
And bid his foes the battell stoute, in their owne lande and coste.
He feared not to pitche his Campe in hart of forreine lande,
And battell wage with enimies force, yea, euen hand to hande,
At last Dame Memorie lookte back, and straight she bade me stay,
And there I saw a worthy fight, as truth I will display.
Debilitie the chalenge gaue, and Death in iudgement sat,
But yet this worthy King did showe no blushing face thereat:
Then came Defiance with a scroule, thou king sayd he, take héede,
Debilitie shall thée conuince, and vanquishe thée with spéede.
Though many Kings thou hast dismayde, with that thy manly face,
And made thy foes abashed oft in presence of thy grace,
Yet thinke thou not vs to withstande, yéelde therfore if thou wilt,
Least hap contemning long, thy dayes with wearinesse be spilt.
The Champion now Debilitie or Weakenesse is by name,
At this triumphantly reioyste, as glad to heare the same,
Then sent the King stoute Valiauncie, ambassage for to tel,
That he wel knew their courage bold, should not his power yet quel:
Ne yet will yéelde at thy prowde boast, though hored heares he haue,
It is not thou with all thy bragges, that canst him yet depraue:
With that the Champion made his course, & eke the King him met,
Then was the sight full cruelly betwéene them fiercely set.
Their fierie strokes and dreadfull blowes abasht my fearefull eyes.
I thinke the sounde of them was hearde abeue the lower skyes,
At last they paused for breath, well nie both being quite dismayde,
Till iudgement came from Thanatos, a while they stoutly stayde.
[Page] The sentence definite was this, as I could vnderstande,
The winde so bare away the sounde, that it could scarce be scande.
Omnia mortali mutantur lege creata,
All things created must chaunged be by mortall law no doute,
Therfore in vaine thou valiant King, art thou so highe and stoute:
Abase thy selfe, he must conuince, yet now these words descrie,
Mori non turpe est, sed turpiter mori:
It is not filthie for to die, his file must cut the thréede,
But filthily to die, that same is filthinesse in déede.
When as the King had heard these wordes, he gan for to recite,
His noble actes which he had done, that might him then requite.
No might sayde he, no strength ne fame, triumph nor victorie,
Can me resist, which am the Prince of fatall destinie.
With that the King began againe, a stroke or two to fight,
But soone he was by weakenesse spoylde, and voide of courage quite:
Lo, sayde Dame Memorie to me, this Pageant didst thou vew,
All Wightes must suffer this conflict, by destinie most trew.
First Age, then eke Debilitie, and Death must sure extende,
As of this King, so of the rest, in time to make an ende:
Dispaire not thou, quoth she to me, for yet I will thée show,
Of mo that suffred haue this fight, whom thou didst truely know.
Make spéede quoth she, and ride apace, and so we did no doute,
Till we the sight of the bare fielde, had wholy passed oute:
And then I askte Dame Memorie, if I might make report,
Of that Combat which I had séene, there tride in such a sort.
Yea, quoth she, feare it not to tell, for doubtlesse this is trew,
King Henrie was a King full stoute, as all men then well knew,
Which raigned thirtie seauen yeares, as Chronicles doe tell,
And did in Marciall prowes then, all other farre excell.
And yet at last with Dauid King and Salomon his sonne,
With Iosaphat and Iosias, his strength must néedes be donne,
And so must all mankinde likewise, sayd she, there is no way,
Of fatall stroke there is a meane, to make a perfite stay.
Though long they liue as Nestor did, or as Methusalye,
Yet once the time approches neare, wherein they néedes must dye:
And therfore sayd she thinke thou still on Death and on thine ende,
And thou shalt kéepe thy life so straight, that thou shalt not offende.
[Page] This talke we had as we did ride, with much more I confesse,
Which were to long, it to recite, if I shoulde it expresse.
When we on way had iournayed long, in Times most pleasant féelde,
To other talke Dame Memorie addrest hir selfe to yéelde.
Approching neare vnto a plaine, of goodly pasture gréene,
Where many thinke of right good praise, were plainly to be séene:
But when we were now entring in, she bade me then prepare,
To sée and heare the chaunce and truth, wherof I now declare.

The Author and Memorie riding forwarde in the fielde called Time, stayeth in the middest therof behol­ding euery state there as­sembled.

The valiaunt Prince and King addressed with Valiancie his Harolde, to bi [...] defiance against Dolor and Debilitie, Thana­tos being iudge.

[Page] LOrde Thanatos in Throne I sawe, as Prince of deadly chéere,
And eke defiaunce still him by, as playnely did appéere:
Then asked I of Memory, what ment him there to bée,
He ruleth all the earth she sayde, as playnely thou shalt sée.
And there in iudgement is he set, and iudgement to display,
Twixt two Champions that thou didst beholde this other day.
With that I harde a deadly sounde, as séemed of Trumpets blast,
The noyse whereof euen dullde my spirites, and made me sore agast.
Faint not, quoth Memory to me, ne dread this deadly sounde,
For now preparing is for fight, as I did earst expounde:
At last out of an hollow Caue, came one so stoute and braue,
As though he would within an houre, all mortall Wightes depraue.
On sturdy stéede in harnesse bright, and Helmet deckt with plume,
His countenaunce showde that he would soone, all humaine strength consume:
His loftie gate made me to thinke, on him I sawe before,
This same is he quoth Memory, muse thou on it no more.
This same is stoute Debilitie, that Champion blythe and strong,
Which thou shalt sée to winne the field, before that it be long:
And lo sayde she, cast vp thine eye, on thother side the hill,
Forthwith approched straight in sight, the glymce of speare and bill:
Then lookte I vp and sawe a farre, a Prince both yong and fayre,
In complet harnesse bright and cléere, resembling Marsis heyre:
About a seuentene yeres of age, of comely stature true,
It did me good his Princely grace, and personage to vewe.
In bewtie like Narcissus sure, Dame Iunos comely face,
Begot of Iupiter he was, I déemed by his grace,
And after him a goodly trayne, of puissaunt men of might,
All so preparde in armor cléere, and readie for to fight.
Then as we rode our iourney on, and still sawe them draw néere,
I prayd y • Memory would then, make playne their names appéere:
That princely childe saide she, that king, that yong Narcissus faire,
Whose valiaunt hart showes him no lesse, then worthy Henries heire.
That same is young Iosias tried, the sixth Edward quoth shée,
That found Gods booke in brokē walles, and made it preachte to bée,
The same is he which read himselfe, Gods booke with loftie sound,
And sent the preachers through his land, it plainely to expound.
[Page] Helchias this king did estéeme, as high Priest of his lande,
By whome all Arguments of truth, should be with power scande,
This worthie Priest loued Zaphan well, the Scribe aprooude in wit:
Which two did alwayes with the king, in regall counsell sit.
By whose great wyt and pollicie, and by this kings consent,
All false Idolatrie, was quite out of his Region rent,
The hill Alters and groues in woodes, and Priestes of Baall ech one,
Were sone broke downe, & they cast out, from presence of his throne.
The lyuing God Iehouah, he did worship and obaye,
All superstition that stoode vp, he soone conuayde awaye.
The booke of Deutronomy pure, he openly did réede:
And so commaunded as his lande, in truth for to procéede.
In fine as earst his genitor, king Henry had begoon,
By him the Romishe rable was quite ransackt and vndoon,
As noble Sire by noble minde, had layde foundation sure:
So he that building finished, his raigne for to endure.
The Pope he cléerely banished, and named as supreme head,
He vtterly defied the Masse, and all his Bulles of lead.
He brake downe all Balles Images, and Pilgrimages vaine,
All Trentals, Diriges, [...]riftes and rites, of Rome he did dismayne.
He tooke the slyng of truth in hande, and stone of zeale that flent,
And gaue the Pope Goliah sure, a wounde and deadly dent:
He threwe his pardons out the dore, his power he full defied,
And cast his care on Iesus Christ, that Lambe which for him died.
Then this done he when Antichrist had lost his title cleane,
His honor and his power vsurpe, which was not worth a beane,
By counsayle of that Zaphan wise, this king erected right,
By Helchias the Priestes aduise, in Antichristes dispight.
New lawes and institution, within his realme and lande,
And purged the Englishe Church therwith, of Popery out of hande:
He threw the Alters downe with force, which made vs like the Iewes,
And set up Tables by and by, as Christ himselfe did vse.
The bookes of God he made be read, I meane Christes Testament,
Quoth she which Antichrist the Pope had hid long time and rent:
And made them playne in mother tongue, translated for to be,
And made the people serue the Lorde, in truth and veritie.
[Page] He rulde his lande seuen yeres quod she, in such aduised wise,
As Fame therefore doth sounde his prayse, euen to the starrie skies:
But whether rydes he now quoth I, and all those Wightes so braue,
To age desert with spéede quoth shee, as Natures course doth craue.
But range thy horse sayde Memory, stande still be not afrayde,
For ere he come at Age byhalfe, his iourney shall be stayde:
With that comes one euill fauored wight, all deckte in straunge aray,
And crept among his sturdie wightes, as they rode on their way.
Séest him quoth Memory to me? I sée him well quoth I,
Thou shalt sée more of his vnhap, quoth she, euen by and by:
The same is he which sure will worke, the fall of that same [...]ing:
And him before the time of age, vnto destruction bring.
Infortunate, that is his name, a wight most fierce and fell,
As thou shalt sée quoth she anone, I néede not thee to tell,
With that I sawe an other wight, Debilitie he hight:
Which crossing came another way, vnto this yong king right.
And then I sawe before this king Dame Fortune shyning cléere,
With hir most glittering siluered bushe vnkemd as might appéere:
Which couered all hir face and brest, it was so thick and long:
Me thought hir selfe so did behaue, as one that ment him wrong.
For she hir balde and hearelesse head, turnde towarde him behinde,
This represents sayde Memory, that thing which he shall finde:
For though he haue bene fortunate, hir forehead to beholde:
Yet spéedily she will turne back, of this thou mayst be bolde.
No youth ne bewtie may preuayle, no honor fame nor praise,
No welth nor dignitie be sure, that Thanatos assaies.
As she the words haue vttred forth, came Hope that heauenly Dame:
And gan to comfort vp his hart, deseruing well the same.
High Enterprise was at his hande, a noble Lorde and stoute,
With that Dame Memory bade me, to leaue looking aboute,
And cast thine eye vpon the king, so singe like that rode:
From whome deceytfull Fortune fled, with all hir bushe abrode.
At whome he caught but all to late, she had no heare behinde
Saide Memorie, now marke thou well, to recreate thy minde:
But recreation none I sawe, but dolefull griefe and wo,
To sée so swéete a King dismaide, by guilefull Fortune so.
[Page] For why Debilitie gan praunce, when he was nere the king,
And eke Defiaunce came in poste, Ambassadge for to bring:
Mouth he vnto Debilitie, now ply thy strength full well,
And suffer not olde Age to gayne, ne yet thy power to quell.
With that the king espyed a farre, this Champion stoute and strong,
And he to sende to knowe his minde, did not the time prolong:
(High Enterprise) it was that rode, Ambassage to display,
And eke to knowe to what ende, he thus did beset his way.
Thy soueraigne Edward thinkes quoth he, Debilitie I meane,
To passe to Ages lande as did, his father stoute and cleane,
But doe thou write it may not be, that he should it attayne,
I here am set him to preuent, his iourney to restrayne.
High Enterprise retirde agayne, and tolde the aunswere so,
Which made the kings couragious hart, to be enflamed tho:
Shall I quoth he preuented be, no fayth I will assayle,
To make the Champion stoute relent, and eke his purpose quayle.
There Hope stept out, and went before, and he came downe amaine,
And met the Champion with such force, that he had néere him slaine:
Then did Defiaunce sound the Trumpe, of Death against the king,
At which the Champion gaue a blow, that did him shrowdly wring.
He faynted at the stroke in déede, and yet so stoute was hée,
That his yong Princely hart respire, and thought reuengde to bée,
And bent his speare to strike amayne, but as his stroke was bent,
That Féeblenesse behinde him came, and did him much preuent.
Then strake Debilitie that Wight, and downe fell Edward flat,
It would haue gréeued a faythfull minde, for to haue bene thereat.
To sée a king so toward and stoute, a right Iosias sure,
Such hard conflict and great mishap, in childehood to endure.
In tender youth alas, sayde I, to Memory my friend,
What chaunce is this y • this good childe, so sone hath caught his end:
Unworthy sure quoth Memory, the lande was of his grace,
Their vyle vnchristian thanklesse life, made him to lose his place.
But sure quoth she this is the trade, all men once néedes must go,
No Wight on earth but yong and olde, must subiect be to wo.
Then forth we rode, but to looke back, it gréeude me at the hart,
To sée that Princely childe dismayde, and prest with deadly dart.
[Page] It grieued me sure to sée his fall, and how he was dismaide,
And sure that strumpet Fortune then, did make me sore afraide:
Oh, who would trust sayde I with teares, and dolefull heauie minde,
To Fortune that vnstable blast, that wauereth like the winde.
Well yet sayde Memory to me, come on nowe ride apace,
For I will showe thée more as yet, beholde thou yonder place:
It was about a ken from vs, so we did passe away
Till we came néere, then what befell, hereafter I will say.

These two Champions signifie Valiauncie, and Defiance, a drest like Haroldes by outwarde shape: bicause Dolor and Debilitie are cer­taine accidents, or inwarde mouings, the which are felt, but not seene: Eche striueth with other who shall be the chiefe Gouernor, Thanatos taketh the supremacie, and compelleth them both to serue him.

The Author an [...] Memorie beholdeth the cumbat, marking w [...]li what is spoken of Queene Marie.

[Page] WHen we had rode a good long space in fielde that is so gréene,
When we had talked wel, of things which we before had séene.
We came at last vnto a Dale where we went downe apace,
I saw two Champions prest in armes, which redy were to chace.
One as it were a ken me thought from other in hollow plaine,
Both bent with countnance stout to sée, to fight with might & maine:
Thus as I cast mine eye about, I saw a Harolde drest,
Which came as though some message he, alreadie had exprest.
Whose irefull countnance made me shrinke, his loftie spéech to heare,
Procéeding on his iourney still, as after shall appeare,
Forth on I came with vised héede, well marking euery pace,
Till both these Champions I sawe, eche other lookte in face,
Their méetings were so valiant, as rare appéerde in sight,
Which did so sore my hart dismay, that voyde I was of might,
With hollow chéekes most straunge to sée, and glymping eies sunk in,
Euen like to that Heraclites from wéeping doth not linne,
A witherde face and skin so parchte, and bones by sorow made ful drie,
That I gan tremble all my flesh, to sée him as I passed by,
The other sure did farre surpasse, so leane, so slender, thin and bare,
As though he had bene pinde & kept, with very thin and homely fare.
And such a sent came from him warde, as made me sicke in senses all,
It dulde my wittes, it palde my sense, yea sure it turned vp my gall:
And as I was thus out of frame, I cast mine eie vp to the hill,
And there I saw olde Attropos in deadly throne there sitting still:
As though in iudgement she had ben, to cut y • thred that Clotho spon,
Alas saide I, I am beset, yea sure I thought I was vndon,
When I thought on the worthy sights, & pleasures great I passed fro,
Oh so my minde it did oppresse, bewrapt I was in dolefull wo.
The glorious Princes deckt so fine, so many a lustie Wight,
The Countrie faire, the fruitfull soyles, that were before my sight,
The worthie plattes and orient lands, the bewtifull adorned glée,
Now to forsake, and thus in griefe, of such a barren fielde to sée.
And eke such ougly wights therein, such fearfull Champions twaine,
And most of all Dame Attropos, hir sight was most my paine,
I shewed mine humaine nature then, that thought in pleasures trace,
That no misfortune should haue hapt, my courage to displace.
[Page] I thought as many thinke no doubt, in midst their pleasures daunce,
In time of welth and iolitie,
The Au­thor here lamentes the state of all fonde desired worldlings
of no such fatall chaunce:
Of Death nor of Calamitie, of poore and wretched state,
I thought as many thinke I sée, that beare a loftie gate,
Like diuers Wights as Philip king, who ruled Macedone,
And eke as Nero did surmise that grieuance should be none:
But sure I was deceyude, so they deceyued are likewise,
That trust in worldly pleasures vaine, in Fortunes false surmise.
In bewtie, strength, in welth and pride, in honor fame and praise,
For in the turning of a hand false Fortune goes hir wayes.
And then such as doe not forecast in welth to frame with wo,
The losse of welth doth yerke them néere which quickly hir forgo.
The losse of fame, the losse of ioye, the losse of store and case,
Doth such that trusted still therin more grieuously displease,
Than it doth those that neuer had, of pleasure any tast,
As I now féele, said I in déede, with sorow néere downe cast.
This worde Dame Memorie belike heard as I spake the same,
And she forthwith would know of me why I was out of frame:
Alas Dame Memorie sayd I, these wights makes me agast,
Which here I sée in this same Dale, since I mine eyes downe cast.
But stirre thou not, quoth Memorie from me, be not dismayde,
For many mightier than thou haue bene of them afrayde:
Beholde therefore and thou shalt sée, great combats sharpe and fell,
As dreadfull sure, the like not past, marke well what I thée tell.
I haue thée shewde quoth she, ere this, that thou shalt not alone,
Treade on the path of mortall steppes, but other many one,
And these two wightes I shall thée tell, which present here dost sée,
What be their names, that know y u mayst, what both their natures bée
The wofull wight with hollow eyes, is Dolor, paine and griefe,
Which in betrapping of mans steps, is knowne to be the chiefe:
When youthfull Age is past and gone, and lustie yeares all spent,
When chéerefull mind by chaunged dayes, and wasted time is rent:
When Fortunes glittring bush turnes back, when pastime bids adue,
When riches wasted or when fame, in course cannot renue,
When merie hart by toyling care, of siluered Age is wo,
When pleasant Cupid doth the Courtes of Iupiters forgo.
[Page] When Bacchus Cups doe turne to want, when Ceres crop do lacke,
When Venus shall with Vulcan be, no more in yron racke:
When Iunos bewtie withered is, when Phoebus beames made dim,
When Cleopatra lies in tombe, that was before so trim:
When Salmacis the wanton Nymphe, is monstrously transposed,
And she with Hermaphroditus so dolefully inclosed.
And when Apollo hath forgot to tune his instrument,
And hearing Orgaine stop by Age, which youth did still frequent.

Here the Author and Memorie beholdeth the last Combat betwixt Dolor and Debilitie, clearely con­uinced by Thanatos.

After long vewing proceede on their iourney.

[Page] THen ginnes this Champion Dolors raigne, procure to the graue,
Most chiefly then although the rule, of all mans life he haue,
And let the wanton sort a whyle, and wealthie ones at wyll,
To tread there pleasaunt path with case, as casting yet none yll.
Yet other while [...]oth griefe créepe in, Dispaire a Champion stoute,
That doth where feare of God is not, all former ioy blot oute:
And what is all mans lyfe sayde shée, but dolor griefe and paine,
What ioye can be in wretched vale, where worlde and all is vaine.
Feare not therefore quoth she to me, for thou shalt taste no yll,
Before it be thee limited, by God and by his will:
The other Champion calde by name, is sure Debilitie,
As féeblenesse or weaknesse hight, whome thou so leane doest sée.
He rules when Hercules hath lost, his tawle victorious strength,
And when infections Nothus blowes, throughout the aire at length,
When good digestion stomake fayles, and sithes the hart doth breake:
Then doth mans body wanting youth, become all sick and weake.
When Soll that plannet full of grace, shall giue curst Saturne raigne
And Luna ioyne with Venus colde, than gins that weakning paine,
When Natures fayle by collors heat, and powers cannot digest,
Then weaknesse or Debilitie, sone hath his rule exprest:
When she had told me both their names, by this, they twaine were met
And we so nere that we might heare, their wordes withouten let,
They spake aloft as egerly, as they could both in yre,
And then to stay I did in minde, to heare them much desire.
The winde was somewhat hie but yet, I heard them verie playne,
How Dolor and Debilitie contended for the raigne:
Ile raigne sayde one it is my right, the other did deny,
At last they gréed their tytles both, by argument to try.
Then Dolor did reherse the meanes, how he tooke place at large,
By losse of goodes, by losse of friends, by losse of Fortunes charge,
By pouertie by aduerst chaunce, by Fortunes frowning face,
By fyre, by sworde, by thrall, by lack, eftsones doth griefe take place.
By losse of bewtie strength and fame, by losse of purpose bent,
By hatred, slaunder, and mishap, when Saturue shall preuent.
A thousand wayes he did rehearse, how Dolor raignes in man:
Outward and eke a thousand mo, of inward chaunces than.
[Page] Which makes his entrance to the mind, to fill mans mind with griefe,
And therfore Dolor did conclude, that he ought be the chiefe.
But then to heare Debilitie what bragges he made at this,
By arguments as strong to proue, that right ought to be his.
He called the Planets all for proofe, by ayrie argument,
As Saturne, Mars, and Luna colde, complete with their assent:
That be the Authors of disease (said he) and ioynde with Planets good,
They make complections turne and ioyce, they turne the helthlesse blood
As if hote Planets rule, amplect with colde which are to base,
Then they make choler grow in man, and stomacks heate apase,
If Planets colde get maistries, then fleume doth straight abounde,
The watrie reumes and stomackes yll, in partes of man is sounde.
With pestilence, Gout, & Feuers strōg, Lasks, Dropsies, then appéere,
Quarterns, Tertians, and beside, such as doe touch more néere,
As Paralysis Palsey hight, which sprong of humors colde,
Makes sinewes all as resolute, powers vitall to withholde.
Then Apoplexia comes in kinde, rising of humors grosse,
Which filles the vessels of the braine, to speach and mouing losse:
Then Epilepsia likewise of grosse colde fleume doth spring,
Or else of Melancholy sure, well knowne a weaking thing.
So Dissinteria comes likewise, which nature cleane doth breake,
Continuall torments comes with him, to make mans body weake:
And of Disuria springes a colde, of fleume both grosse and tough,
Who paines the bladder in such sort, and makes a man to bough.
Ephialtes, Epialos, those Feuers both take place,
One colde, and the other burning hote, mans strength for to deface:
The Hemerhodes also doe come of fulnesse of the vaines,
Which much depriue mā of his strength, encreasing grieuous pains.
Iclerios which Iaundice hight, pretending in their kinde,
Of euery sort much weakning man, as I can proue and finde.
Beside ten thousande more sayd he, of sore diseases fell,
Which now our time will not permit, in order for to tell.
Yea, and beside a thousande new, which springs low euery day
As plagues made due deuised by God, mans new sinnes to repay:
New wayes man still inuenteth now, his God for to offend,
And so God doth new plagues deuise, to bring him to an ende.
[Page] Not new as though God shoulde haue néede, new things for to inuent,
But new bicause man didnot trust, as yet such punishment:
I therfore quoth Debilitie, doe proue my selfe the best,
By whom mankinde in this his race, is most of all opprest.
For sorow may be put away, as cause thereof doth spring,
Of pensiue hart swéete instruments can ioye and solace bring,
To sor [...]e hart for poore estate, a salue is to be had,
And that is money which forthwith reuiues and makes him glad.
If wo for lacke of fame or praise, actiuitie comes in,
If grieude with woūds the medicine streight his ease doth then begin:
But he that is to weakenesse brought, Phisitions may take paine,
And minister by Art and skill to make him hole againe:
Yea, cure his sicknesse as they may by knowledge euermore
But yet his strength they will confesse, God only must restore:
With that gan Dolor halfe distraught, to fixe his speare on brest,
And straight Debilitie began likewise to be addrest:
Their words displeasant were to eche, they were incenst with ire,
And so they gan to close amaine, with strokes as hote as fire,
Assuredly like Champions stoute and valiant in the féelde,
It was not cowardnesse that coulde, make either so to yéelde.
But pawsed and fought, and pawsed againe, so cruell was their fight,
And sure full deadly blowes were giuen, on either part did light.
How likest thou this, said Memorie, sure saide I, gracious Dame
I neuer saw yet such conflict, no worthier than the same,
It is but vaine, quoth she certes, for them thus to contende.
For sée where one doth sit in throne, that shall their battell ende,
Why? that is Attropos quoth I, truth quoth she to mée,
And these two Champions to hir grace, both but as seruants bée.
With that same worde I hearde a voyce, and Attropos gan speake,
Wherwith these champions both at once, their battell of did breake:
Hir iudgemēt was that Griefe, or Paine, or Weaknesse were but sent
As Messengers of Attropos, and for hir high entent.
Not for your selues, quoth she, that you to raging bée,
But that when eyther of you strike, man might prepare for mée:
Your powre and strength is little worth except I be your guide,
The honor therfore sure is mine, I fully haue it tride.
[Page] With that they stayde and flong their speares, ech one out of his hand,
And cast their eyes to Attropos, where as hir throne did stand,
And we rode by when all was done, the furious battailes hot,
And through the Dale amaine we rode, our horses for to trot.
But as we rode Dame Memorie gan talke as woont we were,
Of that same sight which we had séene, whereof I was in fere:
So falling out and commoning, as we rode on our waye,
Of many things she put in minde, which she before did saye,
And eke how these two champions had, ful many a Wight down cast,
And eke how man was but a flowre, a bud or westerne blast.
And so among much other talke, it came into my minde,
Talking of Princes and of Kings, which yet was left behinde:
To aske hir who succéeded next after in Britaine lande,
That swéete & comly Edward King, whom Fortune did withstand.
Truly quoth she, thou well hast spoke, I had hir quite forgot,
Sith small desert of memorie, she left behinde God wot
Marie a bitter floure God knowes, sprong of so swéete a trée,
Yet bright she was in splendent throne, as any Quéene could bée:
Marie succéeded Edward sure, a braunche of Henries blood,
Though that hir reigne with Hesperus did Britaine land smal good.
A noble Prince no doubt she was, respecting reigne and crowne,
As reigning ouer such a lande, as beares so high renowne:
And wise she was as such one coulde, so left in brothers steade,
And wiser if she would haue sought, to be the supreme heade.
But she cast downe that father raisde, which brother eke made sure,
And set vp that which they cast downe, of all things most vnpure:
Yet royally she ran hir race, as fancie did hir guide,
And sure right godly was hir life, if knowledge had bene tride.
A iust religious minde had she, but wanting skill of truth,
Which caused in Britain land much wo, much wailing, paine & ruth
If thou wilt more said Memorie to me, of Maries raigne,
The Actes and Monuments put forth, of that time show thée plaine:
The tragicall discourse therof, the bloudie slaughter fell,
Time will not serue me, but that booke shall show thée verie well:
At last when she had raignde in pompe, adioyned to such a throne,
Scarce willingly gaue place to death, which Bellials sort did mone.
[Page] She séemed as yet to show a grace, that fatalls to defie,
And with these Champions both she sought, as time did them descrie:
But she alas was all to weake, for all the pompe she had,
And all the helpe of Balams flocke, which prayed as they were mad.
Which roared and bleared in euery route, that she had lost hir life,
Bicause they knew if she were gone, then would begin their strife:
Well yet at length Debilitie and Dolor so preuaylde,
That they of hir obtainde the price, which they had long assaylde.
And Attropos when they had done, cut off hir vitall thréede,
How grieuously and in what wise to show, is more than néede,
And euen as Memorie had done this short discourse to mée,
Of this same Quéene, hir raigne and end, a Fort we gan to sée.
And eke a house or Mansion place, as we rode vp the hill,
And vnderneath a valey faire, but forth we rode on still,
Till we were come vnto the house, where Memorie bade light,
There she constrained me to rest, bicause it was nere night.
Here will we bide, sayd she, a while, vntill the morow day,
And then of other matters straight, I will to thée display,
At hir request I lighted downe, and put our Stéedes to grasse,
Then went we in, yet will we tell, what after came to passe.

The Author and Memorie walking on foote, beholdeth the auncient showe and Funerals, of mightie Conquerours past.

Wherevpon the Author beholding the same, desireth Memorie to show him the meaning thereof, as earst to fore she [...]ad begonne.

[Page] When clowdie night so darke and grim, was paste then we arose,
Euen when Auroras comely hew, gan mornings chéere disclose.
When Cinthias hornes were hid, when Phaebus tooke his race?
In glittring Chariot through the skies, fro Esterne throne apace.
Then sayde Dame Memory at once, make spéede the day drawes on,
And so we tooke our curteous leaue, and went to horse anon:
The pleasaunts Dame is Memory, to ride or go withall,
She mooues the minde not to forget what after shall befall.
The chéerfulst Ladie on the way, Dame Memory is sure,
That euer matched with Pilgrime tryde, his fancies to alure,
Besides recouering vp the talke, that we had ouer night,
The chéere, the banquet and repast, the pastaunce and delight.
She had a thousand merie tales, of stories past and gon,
Which were with wisedome enterlaste, right méete to think vpon:
Sometime by trauayle I gan tyre, and was right dull in minde,
But shée espying me, forthwith adrest some mirth to finde.
So passing on with mery tales, and wauering thoughts of mée,
We gan about the eleuenth houre, a pleasaunt fielde to sée.
I should haue tolde first of the hill, where that the Forte did stande,
Where we had lodgde all the night, right worthy to be scande.
For on that hill the way laye right, a stréete bright, faire, and plaine,
Much like the way that mountes the hil, Pernassus as they faine:
Saue onely that Pernassus way, leades vp the wined hill,
And this from top hath turnings none, but leadeth downeward still.
Of all the places where I came, or aye haue séene to tell,
To none I can compare this hill, whereon our iournay fell,
Except it be to that same place, vnder Pernassus side,
Where all the worthy Muses mine, Parnassides abide:
So faire, so swéete, with flowers and trées, of fruites a long our way.
That it vnto Thesperides Garden compare I may,
Still all a long till at the last, the way led downe amayne,
From whence as casting foorth my sight, I spide y • pleasant playne.
The bewtie of the which, to much reuiued vp my minde,
That still I longde to be therin, but loe I was behinde:
It showed pleasant in mine eye, that fielde so freshe of glée,
As though from Oetas top, the Greacian lande might sée.
[Page] And still the néerer it I came, the fayrer it did séeme,
Which made me muse and what it was, it caused me to déeme:
And musing on it as I rode, as many mindes are bent,
To chaunged fancies newe and straunge, graue studie to preuent.
To please the eies and fix their mindes, oft times or fangel [...]d chainge,
So I confesse as one of those, whose minde did often rainge,
But as I mused, Dame Memory, had tolde me many a tale,
But sure I wist not what they were, no more then Iacke a vale.
My minde was so bereft with toyes, and fancies that I sawe,
That what she sayd, I knew no more, then did a foolishe dawe:
I was much lyke then as I thought, to some that I did knowe,
Which oft doth come in preaching place, where truth doth bud and growe
To Sermons as they vsed when as, I was at home in rest,
To which full many well I knowe, would oft be readie prest:
And yet when as they were in place, their dueties for to héere,
So many toyes and fancies fonde, before them did appéere.
That oft when preacher had left off, if one should them desire,
They could as many wordes declare, as sea burne in the fire,
And knew as much their duetie then, when Sermon ended was,
As Linus in Lupercall wood, to helpe Pans priest sing Masse.
So much beside my selfe was I, as they were with there toyes,
To sée this pleasaunt fielde so faire, it much encreast my ioyes:
But Memory much hauing sayde, perceyuing eke my minde,
Knewe well before she asked me, how my disease to finde.
I aunswered hum and ha to hir, but nought I did regarde,
Of all the pleasaunt stories which she had for me preparde:
Much like as some, when wisemen shal, of wisedome touch them ought
And yet their ydell braynes doe still regarde the same as nought.
At last sayde Memory in déede, as marking well my chéere,
Where on my friend is set thy minde, that me thou doest not héere:
Now sure déere Dame sayde I, this fielde bewraps my senses so,
That I am rauisht with the sight, the further that I go.
With that Dame Memory to me did say, I was not wise,
To lose the marking of hir talke, for pleasaunce of mine eyes.
This field she sayd which thou doest sée, so faire, so fresh and gréene,
Unto an other séemeth bare, as time hath euer béene.
[Page] This Fielde is Time that nowe appéeres of such a liuely hew,
To thée and certayne other mo, which perill neuer knew,
Which haue ynough as helth and wealth, and ease withouten paine,
To whome eche hap of wordes and deedes, still fall out perfite gayne.
Whose swéetned mouths, no hūger tast, whose hart do take no thought
Whose handes to labor haue no néede, that Art should out be sought:
Whose pleasaunt face the siluered drops of trickling sweate doth hate:
Whose wandering eies are not opprest, with watching ouer late:
Whose Corps adourned takes no colde, at Borias bitter blast,
Such thinke this fielde a pleasant graynge, which neuer wo do tast,
Such as haue all thing at their willes, withouten thought or care,
As rauisht sure with sight thereof, there fancies fully are:
Whose Coffers are right full of Golde, whose Tables haue no scant,
Whose costly lodgings in the night, of casement haue no want:
Whose gorgeous vestments are framde, to pleasures of the eye,
Which as in honor, pompe, and praise, in Fortunes fauor hye.
Those thinke this fielde of Time no doubt, a pleasaunt field to bée,
Like Garden of Hesperides, or Thessal Grecians glée.
But vnto such are tasting wo, griefe, hunger, paine and smart,
Whose howling sight for ioylesse state, procéede from swelling hart:
Whose bodyes are with toyle opprest, which colde with Saturs yre,
On whom Dame Fortune turnes her back, not as they doe require,
Which lack and taste of pinching paine, both naked poore and bare,
Which scarce doe lyue in meanly state, for all their toyle and care.
But glad to go from dore to dore, in howling yrcksome griefe,
And are constrainde with witherd chéekes, to craue and aske reliefe:
To such this pleasaunt fielde of Time, which thou doest thinke so gay,
A ioylesse plat they holde it sure, deuoyde of comfort thay.
Some other thinke, as they likewise, of Balams flocke I meane,
Which are dispoylde in this same time, of all their comfort cleane:
Which had a time for them full freshe, mens soules to bye and sell,
Which were inricht by marchandise, y • saued mens soules from hell.
What saide I: saued? nay quite dispoyled, of euerlasting ioyes,
While they in time of Molochs raigne, were flattred forth w t toyes,
While such like Princes were inrichte, and fared of the best,
While simple sort like Ideot lobbes, or innocents were drest.
[Page] They clothed in silkes as Marchauntes rich, with Uenefices full,
With Benefices would I say, that made their braines so dull:
Which nowe doe howle, in corners crept, for loosing of their gayne,
And of this pleasant time for griefe, doe very much complayne:
Though others ioye, and thinke it swéete, yea happiest time of all,
When Gospell hath them fréede from Pope, & Popishe cruell thrall:
And that belyke sayde Memory, doth make it séeme to thée
The Garden of Hesperides, more bewtifull to bée.
For their grewe Golden apples sure, which Hercules bereft,
But here the sounde of lasting lyfe, in holyest Garden left.
Yet marke and sée the fickle chaunce, that happeneth in this tyme,
As well as in the auncient graunce, that was so full of cryme.
And as the prosses of hir talke, was throughly at an ende,
We did begin in midst of fielde, apace for to discende,
Where as there was so fayre a groue, and Arb [...]r for to rest,
As Phaebus in Meridian rase, began to be adrest.
We both in place there did alight, and as we walked by,
The pleasaunt fruites that there we sawe, was passing to the eye,
The fragrant Rose, and smelling Mint, the Oliefe braunches gréene,
A place most fit for valyaunt harts, as for Minerua Quéene.
Thus as we walkte Dame Memory, gan take me by the hande,
Sayde shée of other matters yet, Ile let thée vnderstande,
She friendly askte me howe I likte that Garden freshe and gréene,
Nowe sure Madame, sayde I ere thys, the like I haue not séene.
Go with me then she sayde, wherewith she gan my steps to guyde,
Out of a priuie way that opte all at the sotherne side:
And being there straight was in sight the goodlest daled playne,
That is I thinke in all the coast, twixt Macedon and Spayne,
Beset with great Pyramides, and Monuments right hie,
In good proportion and in hegth,
Here Me­morie sheweth the Author the aunci­ent monu­ments.
right pleasaunt to the eie:
At thonside rockes and Mountaynes huge, and goodly groues to sée,
Than all that I to fore had séene, this more delighted mée:
Then as I cast mine eyes more low, I spide a mightie Prince,
With Diademe and stowtnesse there, and Scepter to conuince,
In goodly Throne I sawe him sit, with princely grace and chéere,
Like Philip king of Macedon, his countnaunce did appéere.
[Page] Or like to Alexander sure, which wan by force of fight,
The vniuersall world throughout, in thirtene yeares by might,
The shewes of this olde monuments, were notes of Princes past,
For other purpose serude they not, thus fame hath ende hir blast.
So many as were valiant, their déedes doe well recorde,
And for their faithfull seruice here, they raigne with God the Lorde:
To such therfore as spent their time, like cruell Nero hée,
Those monuments stande to their shame, as all full well may sée.
Herode fell, Goliah stoute, what praise left they behinde,
Or Bacchus he, that belly God, sure Momus guestes assynde,
Their crueltie rest to their shame, vnto the worlds ende,
Their infamie and cankred hate, from light their eyes did bende.
Marke well therfore quoth Memorie although these sights thée please,
The sights not séene with Ioue aboue, doth bréede more ioy and ease:
For these are things though faire, yet vaine, a time to please the eye,
The life to come doth far surpasse, that iourney let vs hye.
Bewrapt I was with heauie care, when thus much he had sayde,
And verye loth from thence to part, therewith I was dismayde.
Yet at the last shée so me ayde, to hir I did consent,
With pleasant showe of sugred wordes, my sorrowes to preuent.
If we should make so much report, quoth Memorie of all,
That we haue séene and doe beholde, the Readers minde would pall:
Therfore from hence now let vs part, our iourney forth to passe,
As we haue done from time to time, for run is halfe our glasse.
To speake somewhat of worthy lightes, which shineth very cleare,
I minde in déede for to declare, marke well, and thou shalt heare.
That worthie Quéene Elizabeth, that splendent Rose so cléere,
Whose fame is spred in euery coast, all Europe farre and néere:
With that I spake to Memorie our iourney forth to ride,
And she with spéede hir selfe addrest, which I full soone espide,
On Will I rode, and she on Ease, from loftie hill to dale,
As afterward shall well be séene, such newes account not stale.
The night approcht, and Vesper shone, Cinthia gaue hir shine,
Yet now and then when Clouds were past, from light for to decline,
A place we saw which did vs ioy, where we had hope to rest,
But being neare Aurora she hir selfe aloft adrest:
[Page] Séeing now therfore quoth Memorie the day so faire beginnes,
Let vs procéede our former talke, anoydiug Tritons ginnes,
His whistling Wilke shall not allure, nor yet his slily song,
That to escape we shall full well, his craft can not vs wrong:
Ne fickle fancie let not moue, your senses to withholde,
For Ioue aboue doth strengthen all, as earst before I tolde,
Where Memorie and Reason eake, in man doth still abide,
There vertue growes with lasting ioyes, at euerie time and tide.
The whole discourse of eche mans life, may likened be to grasse,
Whose state and stay is no time firme, for all away doth passe:
The vehement colde congeales to yse, yet heate of sunne doth melt,
To gratefull harts a lasting praise, as all such past hane felt.

The Author beholdeth the discourse of Dolor and Debilitie, Thanatos sitting and giueth iudgement, Attropos giuing place.

As they are at co [...]tention, the worthy Queene Elyzabeth passeth by, neyther Dol [...]r nor Debilitie, as yet not able to resist.

[Page] AS worthy facts deserues great fame, to such as vertue loue,
So worthie prayse is alwayes prest, by proofe who list to proue.
No tongue ne pen may well expresse the benefites we haue:
Not only store of worldly welth, for that we néede not craue.
All things that we can thinke or wishe, concerning eche estate,
Are brought to vs, we lacke them not, we néede not feare of hate,
Of forren power, Prince, nor lande, if we eche other loue,
And doe obey our noble Quéene, as dutie doth vs moue.
Whose royall raigne God so endue, sure Nestors yeares I wishe,
That she long time may be our guide, hir foes still to vanquishe:
And that we may while time we haue, by dutie séeke to please,
Hir royall grace our supreme head, Gods wrath thereby to pease.
No nation sure in Christen lande, may so as we compare,
No worthier Princes beareth life, nor none more taketh care
To kéepe and gouerne this hir Realme, by prudencie and skill
Is all hir care, hir lande to riche, no subiectes more haue will.
Hir splendent face and Christall eyen, hir comly corps and gate,
Is able sure a hart of stone, to cause relent and quake,
By way of sage sobrietie, hir publike wealth doth guide,
I thinke the like scarce may be founde at any time or tide.
What shall I say in farther praise, full well all men may know,
God graunt therfore we thankfull be, and duties to hir show:
That lande or nation which doe loue their Prince with hart and will,
God doth and will them euer blesse, in Citie, towne and hill.
Well, to procéede quoth Memorie, as earst we haue begunne,
Let vs with spéede no time delaye, awaye our course doth runne.
Beholde quoth she that yonder vale so bare and voide of grasse,
All barrennesse the place is callde, where none may ouerpasse.
Beholde also the ougly corps, that bony figure hée,
Is Thanatos which endes the life of euery degree.
As Iudge he sittes in middest of plaine, to vew the commers by,
And those in armes are champions stout, not one from them may fly.
If that he chaunce within their sight, full hard then may escape,
Debilitie so cruell is, and vitall life doth hate,
The Har [...]lde there Defiance hight, vnto the commers by,
From Thanatos as Messenger, in wea [...]ned corps a spye.
[Page] When flesh by Dolefulnesse is brought, to weake Debilitie
Then straight Defiance lye betwixt, the marie ioyntes and knée:
Euer striuing still in man, except freshe bloud abound,
Decreasing all the vitall powers, & Death straight giues the wound.
Conceiue thou well quoth Memory, these Champions now beholde,
A Cumbat sure we straight shall sée, as earst [...]efore I tolde:
Their stryuing sure is all in vaine, till God doth giue him leaue,
Therfore with haste as we passe by, doe close vnto me cleaue.
Feare not at all, as yet the force, may in no wise vs let,
Although they striue who first shal raigne, and lay their trapped net:
As we were talking in the vale, a farre of I espide,
A Charet set with costly stone, and plumed on euery side.
In haste I spake to Memorie, and askte hir what they were,
Which came in order marching on, withouten dread or feare:
Remembrest not quoth Memory, Elizabeth that Quéene,
Which I erst spake, that worthy Prince, euen she most comly séene.
With those hir Nobles of hir lande, on prograce now they ride,
Through worldly pleasures trapped way, forth on apace they glide:
To vewe and sée how euery coast, is furnished with store,
If néede shoulde be, hir foes to match, the bote and ship with Ore.
As well on seas of trobleous time, that nothing lacking bée,
Hir to defende in all assayes, from daungers eke hir frée:
Hir captaine stout Gods gospell pure, will fight so for hir grace,
That Pope and Iewe shal stand in feare, of hir most splendant face.
And constant faith in Iesus Christ, Liefetenaunt hirs shall bée,
Which séekes by meanes the life to come, as all full well may sée.
All these alredy are with hir, hir minde they still obey,
So long as she goes forward on, not minding once to stay:
And for asmuch as she hath care, hir Realme to kéepe in peace,
It hir behoues all coastes to séeke, at no time sure to cease,
Not that she feares scarce time to haue, such is hir godly zeale,
But for to sée all things well set, thus she for vs doth deale.
Debilitie ne Dolor eke, so striues to get them prayse,
As she doth sure thinke bring to passe, by sundry kinde of wayes:
That which is sayde as erst I tolde, if thou my wordes didst here,
It shall suffice giue eare againe, beholde they drawe vs nere:
[Page] Concerning that Debilitie, which striued so of late,
Is nothing else but want of bloud, which lustie youth doth hate:
And Dolor he doth signifie both pensiue carpe and care,
Which doth in time mans fleshe abate, to fleshlesse bones all bare.
And Thanatos is griefly Death, which makes an ende of life,
From hie and lowe, from youth to age, and eke both man and wife:
Discord and Grudge, delights to braule, and then they haue their fill,
By sworde or knife, eche one to stay, still prest they are to kill.
And sith these sightes are passed by, we will not here abide
As yet, if thou wilt folow me, I still will be thy guide:
With that on Will I rode me forth, as now not farre to iourne,
Quoth Memory beholde, that thou may not agayne retourne.
Forth on we néedes must take our way, for we two will alone
Debate of matters past and gon, as after shall be showne:
My colour straight began to chaunge, and strength did eke decreast,
And grayer head did then appéere, I might not be releast.

Here the Author and Memory riding alone, Memorie comforteth him to prouide and arme himselfe against Thanatos.

The Author being somewhat moued by Memorie, passeth ouer the fielde of worldly pleasure, and Time also nere past, beginneth to faint, yet for a time recouered by Reason.

[Page] AS I rode on with countnance grim, and almost halfe dismayde,
That I also no way mought flie, I gan to be afrayde:
For that I saw so many dead, of all degrees on grounde,
I mused how I might escape, that none should me confound:
With that Dame Memorie looked back, quoth she doe not dismay,
No way there is therein to scape, the truth I doe display:
When natures course by Time is spent, then néedes must all adresse,
With speare and shielde against the foe, I after will expresse.
For as these Champions still haue striude, and thée beset full oft,
Now thée to leaue they will not sure, marke wel this time is nought:
A werie place and painfull vale, a dungeon darke and yll,
Where nothing bides in one estate, thou mayest not haue thy wyll.
When I considered hir words, and weyde them well in minde,
I gan againe for to reuiue, bicause she was so kinde,
In showing me the daungers great, which passed were and gone,
And those to come, with chéerefull words, so forth we rode alone,
To passe the fielde of barren Age, so much my minde did moue,
That sore I was therewith dismayde, that (Will) no more to proue,
And speare of Regiment to lose, and eke my sworde so bright,
Which Courage hight, wherewith I oft did put my foes to flight.
Thus musing still the life to come, quoth Memorie beholde,
That Iland playne, which doth appéere, with glasie Ise so colde.
That place is called Consumpsion, so emptie, voyde and bare,
Which thou must passe, there is no way, thy selfe therefore prepare.
Within that place the Champions are, which mindes thée to assayle:
Distrust, Dispaire, and eke Disdaine, but sée thou doe not quayle:
Thou shalt them féele, but not them sée, therefore doe not dismay,
Their power is such where they beare rule, they turn to night y • day.
The night I meane of worldly cares, which many doe estéeme,
To be more worth than lasting life, a day full bright doth shéene,
For who that mindes the life to come, himselfe may well insure,
This worldly vale and dungeon darke, doth man from life procure.
Therfore quoth she, now let vs ride apace till we haue got
Some house to rest, where harbour is, that none by way vs stop.
Beholde quoth she, that Phoebus faire beginneth to dis [...]de,
And Vesper she, ere long will showe, the day to be at [...]de:
[Page] With that I set my spurres to horse, whose pace began to dull,
Nothing so quicke as at the first, no race could run at full:
Espying thus my horse to faint, I long desirde to sée
Some house or place for vs to rest. Then both we did agrée,
Before that Vesper gan to shine, a place we did espie,
Whereby with haste rode on our waye, and thither did vs hie,
But ere we further doe procéede, quoth Memorie to mée,
Be not to rashe in entring in, some light now let vs sée.
With that I looked rounde about, aloft I spied light,
So cleare it shone as doth the sunne, with all his beames so bright,
To knocke quoth she, I will begin, this place I surely know,
Which called is the Hoped Time, which faithfulnesse doth show,
Well, quoth Memorie alight, till some vs come vntill,
Ere long there will approch to vs, obtaine we shall our will:
And with that there came a messenger, True Zeale which did prepare,
A chamber fresh which Paine it hight, as we shall now declare.

Here the Author by Memorie taketh his rest, at the ende of the desert of barren Age, or Con­sumption.

And being lighted of their horses, the Author sickeneth in the Chamber called Paine.

[Page] No sooner entred was I sure, such paine in corps I felt,
That I was faine to lay me downe vpon a couch or pelt:
Till that true Diligence for me, prepared had a bed,
And godly Zeale full readie had a kerchefe for my hed.
Th [...]s lying downe vppon my bed, in dolefull sort gan mone,
Perceyuing well that néedes I must, do that that earst was showne:
That is, to [...]aue this fleshly corps, and chaunged lyfe to sée,
Which I long time s [...]ught to defend, and yet it would not bée.
To thinke vpon that Will my horse, my griefe did more abound,
Him to [...]orgo it gr [...]e [...]de me much, euen lyke a deadly wound:
With that came Memory to me, and bade me take good héede,
Not to dismay although the time, by Ioue is full decréede.
Why doest thou sighe and languishe so, it may thée not preuayle,
Lo, Reason he shall so thée rule, that thou shalt well preuayle:
To [...]ide the saute of Thanatos, he will thée so enflame:
That from Dispaire, Disdaine, and Ire, thou shalt escape as game.
So long as thou wilt ruled be, by Reasons sage aduise,
True Diligence and constant Hope, will coun [...] thée then full wise:
Lo Pacience straight will then appere, and endlesse ioy and guide,
To driue away Distrust and Ire, as golde thou must be tride.
With that came Reason to the bed, and bid him not dismay,
For I sure am a friend of thine, my loue I will display,
And lay abrode before thée so, if thou wilt me regarde,
And after me as faythfull friendes, alreadie are preparde.
That is, faith, hope and charitie, which will thy minde allure,
To doe and saye all that shall proue, and lyfe they will procure:
By me therefore now ruled be, then marke what will insue,
A happie state and ioyfull lyfe: these wordes as sure most true.
Beholde where I am resident, there alwayes groweth fame,
To prince, to king, and euery state, I still incurre good name:
So if thou wilt be rulde by me, I will not fro thée part,
Till Cloth [...]s he haue sp [...]n hir thréede, with all hir slily Art.
Till Attropos haue whet their knife, the vitall thréede to ende,
Till Thanatos his course doth ende, my loue I will extende.
Therefore of me thou mayest be sure, if thou my wordes regarde,
No enimie sure shall thée [...], although [...]ull néere preparde.
[Page] When Reason thus had sayde his minde, to Memory I sayde,
How like you this I pray you showe, I néede now of your ayde:
With that she smilde as one yet glad, espying not forgot,
His counsayle sure is certes good, and sinnes away will blot.
No man on earth may Death withstande, therfore vnwise is he,
Which will contend with yrefull wordes, as all full well may sée:
For yrefull wordes bréedes cankered hate, Debilitie to vex.
And Dolor he must néedes decrease, beware of Discordes checks,
In sicknesse he that way ward is, and will no reason héere,
Alwayes doth bréede, his owne disease, as may full well appéere:
The frantike mindes of many one, so to their willes are bent,
That medicine and phisicke both, may cause them to repent.
Such wilfull pacients therefore, that will not turne in time,
May well be sure to féele the rod, of pinching paine and crime:
For there as Reason may not rule, nor Memory that Dame,
In stéede of hops of endlesse lyfe, Distrust there reapes the game,
And where Distrust once bereth sway, their straight apéeres Dispaire
To draw away that soule from light, and state thereby appaire.
God graunt ther [...]fore all christian harts, so to prouide in time,
That lyuely spirite of iust beliefe, maye not from thée decline.
But that which feruent zeale doth showe, by Ioue aboue diuine,
Disturbance he doth grudge and hate, much more he doth repine:
For when he sées the féeble corps, opprest with wo and paine,
Most busiest then he is to mée, although most vile and vaine.
He will therefore prouide in time, while prosperous state doth last,
In calling still for Gods merey, shall not be made agast:
Of wicked spirites for to delude, they shall not thée annoy,
Though thousands haue thy corps [...], with g [...]lefull fanci [...]s coy.
No man on earth himselfe maye frée, from the infirmitie▪
Of fleshly lyfe while he haue breath, such powers to disagrée:
I wishe therefore all faythfull hartes, there mindes so fully bende,
And still to craue mercie and grace, for that they haue [...]nde.
These wordes when Memory had sayde, they did my [...]art such good,
My sicknesse I almost [...]orgate, but Reason with me stood:
My heart was lightned very much, wherefore I calde amayne,
For armor then, and Will my horse, yet once againe to raine.
[Page] Wherewith that I wou [...] make an ende, of this my trauayled time,
The soner then to ende this race of [...]nkered yre and crime:
But séeing weaknesse so opp [...]sse my s [...]ly corps in déede,
On Will I gan my foe to [...]te, that Thanatos with spéede.
And being armde with Godly Zeale, my selfe so did applye,
That not estate ne losse of li [...] coulde make me backe to flye,
But when he came his might was such, I could not him withstand,
Forthwith I yéelded as captiue then, and voyde of forraine land.
God graunt vnto all faythfull hartes, such race alwayes to runne,
That no desyre of worldly welth, their mindes once ouercume:
Then be you sure, when vitall thred, by Attropos is rent,
With Gods elect in lasting ioyes, no care more to relent.
Farewell my friendes, loe ye haue heard, such newes as I haue séene,
In euery cost and lande where I, long time and dayes haue béene:
Let this suffise your fickle mindes, except you farther iorne,
So this now done, my selfe doth please, and so doth serue my turne.
Though playne and base, not eloquent, as well sure as I can,
A better may hereafter hap, if that thou rightly skan:
Farewell adue yet once agayne, marke well ere thou dispraise,
Least in the ende thou be to rash, not trading Reasons waies.
FINIS.
Iohn. 3. They shall die that beleeue not in Christ, and the wrath of God abideth vpon them.
[figure]
Eccle. 9.They that be deade know nothing, such as are dead in sinne, thy dead men shall lyue, such as are dead in the workes of the fleshe, shall be quickned in the spirit.
Sapiens. 13.Among the dead there is hope, among suche wicked as will be conuerted from their abhominations, there is lyfe promised, so that they returne not to their vomite againe.

[Page]Imprinted at London, by Henrie Denham, dwelling in Pater­noster rowe, at the signe of the starre.

Anno Domini. 1569.

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