[Page] [Page]

The fable of Ouid treting of Narcissus, trā ­slated out of Latin into Englysh Mytre, with a moral ther vnto, ve­ry pleasante to rede.

M.D.LX.

God resysteth the proud in euery place
But vnto the humble he geueth his grace.
Therfore trust not to riches beuti nor strēgth
All these be vayne, & shal consume at length.

Imprynted at London by Thomas Hackette, and are to be sold at hys shop in Cannynge strete, ouer agaynste the thre Cranes.

¶The prenter to the Booke.

GO Lyttell Booke do thy Indeuoure
to all estates, that vyce doeth refuse,
In the maye be learned how to perceuer
synne to abhorre vertue to vse.
The wyse the aucthour wyll excuse
by cause he inuayeth, agaynst synne and pryde,
Who causeth many a one, parilously to slyde.
In the may the wyse learne vertue in dede
In the maye the stronge manne, of hym selfe knowe
In the maye the ryche manne, of hym selfe reed
how to gather hys ryches, or them to bestowe
wyth most worthy matter in the doeth flowe
who seketh in the for profyt and gayne,
Of excellent matter sone shall attayne.

The Argument of the fable.

LIreope had a Sonne by Cephicious named Narcissius, whose contynuaunce of lyfe Tyricias a prophete, affyrmyd to be longe, yf the knowledge of hym selfe, procuryd not the contrary, whose sentence here nowe Ecco the callynge Impe, frome whome Iuno had berefte the ryght vse of speche, so loued this Narcyssus, that throughe the thought and care that she sustayned, for the gettynge hys good wyl that euer despysed her, she consumed the relykes, of whiche consumed Carcas were torned into Stones. The greate dysdayne of Narcyssus, herein Ramusia Straungely reuenged, for he heated through hūtinge by the drynkynge of a well, supposynge to quence hys thruste espyed therin the shadowe, of hys face, wherewyth he was so rauyshed that hauynge no power to leue hys blynde desyre for the attaynyng of an impose belytye, there he starued. For the pre­peracion, whose buryall the Nim­phes, had ordyned souch fur­nituer as ther vnto apper­teyned & had. Retornyd to the Solemne, Erthynge and buryall of suche a carcase, they founde in sted of the ded Corpis a yelow floure which with vs beareth the name of a daffa­dylly.

The ende of the Argument.
LIreope whome once Ciphicious, dyd embrace,
and raushe ī his crokid floudes wher she was shut frō gracs
Dyd trauell and brynge forth, when tyme of berth befel
a chyld euen then whō loue had lyked well,
And hym Narcissus named of whome the lot to learne,
yf he shoulde number manye yeares, and perfecte age discerne
The reder of hys fate Tiricious yea dyd saye
If that the knowledge of hym selfe, his lyfe dyd not decaye,
Ful longe a vayne pronounce, this semed tyll hys death,
By furye quaynte dyd make it good, & vnsene lose of brethe
For twentye yeares and one, Narcissus death escaped
what tyme no chylde was seene so fayre, nor yong man better shapyd,
A nomber bothe of men and maydes, did hym desyre,
But bewtye bente wyth proude dysdayne, had set hym so on fyre
That nether those whome youthe in yeares, had made his make
Nor pleasaunte damsels freshe of heue, coulde wyth him pleasure take
This man the fearfull hartes, inforcynge to hys nettes
The caulyng nimphe one daye, behelde that nether euer lettes
To talke to those that spake, nor yet hathe power of speche
Before by Ecco this I mene, the dobbeler of skreeche
A body and no voyce, was Ecco yet but howe
The blabbe had then none other vse of speach, then she hath now
The later ende to geue of euery sence or clause,
wherof the wyfe of Iupiter, was fyrst and chyfe the cause
For that when she dyd seke, the syllye Imphes to take
that ofte she knewe wythin the hylles, had lodged wyth her make
This Ecco wyth a tale, the goddes kepte so longe
that well the Imphes myght her escape, but whē she sawe this wrong
This tonge quod she where wyth, so ofte thou dydeste dysceaue
the goddes Iuno lyttyll vse of speche, shall erste receaue
And so her thretininges proue, yet Ecco endyth speche
wyth dobling sound the wordes she heareth, & sendeth a gaine w t screch
Thus when Cyphicious Sonne, the desartes walkinge faste
wyth wandrynge pace she had espyed, her loue and on hym caste
Wyth stealyng steppes, she foloweth fast her hote desyre
and styl the nerer that she comes, the hotter is her fyre
None other wyse then as the nerer fyre dothe lye
to brimstone matters mete to borne to flayme doth more applye,
Howe ofte oh wolde she fayne, wyth plesaunte wordes him glad
and faune on hym wyth prayers swete, but nature it forbad,
[Page]And letteth her to begynne, but that she doth permytte
full preste is Ecco to perfourme accordyng to her wytte,
In lystynge for to heare, some sounde hys mouth escape
whereto her wordes she myghte applye, & him an answere shape.
By chaunce Narcissus, led from companye alone
dyd saye is anye here to whome, she answereth her a none,
He musyth and amasyd, doth loke on euerye syde
and caulyng loude come nere he sayth, whom she byds yeke abyde,
Agayne he looketh aboute, and seynge none that came,
whystlyst thou me quod he, who harde her answere euen the same
He stayeth and not knowyng, whose this sounde should be
come hether let vs mete he sayde, and let vs mete quod she
Then with so good a wyll, as thoughe she neuer harde
a sound that lyked her halfe so well, to answere afterwarde
And to perfourme her wordes, the woodes she soone forsooke
and to imbrace that she desyred, aboute the necke hym tooke
He flyeth faste awaye, her foulded armes that sprede
aboute hys necke he caste awaye, and euer as he flede
Death would I chuse, ere thou hast power of me quod he
whom she none other answere made, but thou hast power of me
and after that wyth leues, she hid her shamefast face
wythin the woodes in hollow caues, maketh her dwellynge place,
Yet loue dothe no whyt more decrese, but wyth her smarte
agmentith styll and watchynge cares, consumyth her wretched harte,
By lenenes eke her skyne is dryed, and to eare
her bloude consumeth, so hath she nought, but voyce & bones to spare,
Whereof is nothinge lefte, but voyce for all her bones
they saye as to her lykeste shape, were tourned into stones,
And sence the woodes hath bene, her home her selfe to hyde
from euerye hyll and nought, but sounde in her dothe none abyde,
Thus here they other nymphes, of wooddes and waters borne
had he dysceaued, and youngmen yeke, a nomber had in skorne,
At last wyth handes lyfte vp, soone to the goddes dyd playne
that so hys hap myght be, to loue and not be loued agayne,
Wherto it semed wel, Ramusya gaue eare
and sought to graunte this iuste request, it after dyd appeare
A sprynge there was so fayre, that stremes like syluer had
whiche nether shepardes happe to fynde, nor gotes that vpwarde gad
Uppon the rocky hyls, nor other kynde of beste,
wyth flashyng feete to foule the same, or troble at the leste,
[Page]Wherin them selues to bathe, no byrdes had made repare,
nor leffe had fallen from any tree, the water to appeare,
About the which the grounde had made some herbes to growe
and eke the trees had kept the sunne, from cōmynge doune so lowe
Narcyssus theare through heate, and wery hunters game
glad to take rest dyd lye hym downe, and fast beheld the same,
And as he thought to drynke, hys feruent thurste to slake
A dryer far desyre hym toke, by lokyng in the lake
For seynge as he dranke, the image of hys grace
therewyth he rapt, fell streyght in loue, wyth shadowe of his face
And museth at hym selfe, wyth whych astonyed cheare,
as image made of marble whyte, his countenance dyd apeare,
Lyke starres he seyth hys eyes, and bacchus fyngeres swete
he thoughte he had on goulden heares, for Phebus not vnmete
A necke lyke yuery whyte, a mouth wyth sauoure good
a face wyth skynne as whyte as snowe, well coleryd wyth bloud
All whych he wonders at, and that he lyketh well
is euen him selfe that wonder makes, with small aduice to dwell
He sees that he doeth aske, agayne doth hym desyre
together he doeth burne him selfe, and kyndel eke the fyre
The well that him dysceaued, how ofte kyst he in vayne
howe ofte there in his armes he dround, in hope for to attayne
The necke, that he desyred so muche to imbrace,
and yet himselfe he could not catche, in that vnhappye place
Not knowyng what he seeth, therewith he is in loue
and those same eyes that, erroure blindes, to errour dothe him moue
Ah foole, why doest thou seke, the shape that wyll not byde
nor beyng hathe, for turne thy face, away and it wyll slyde
The shadowe of thy selfe, it is that thou doest see
and hath no substaunce of it selfe, but comes and bydes with thee
Yf thou canste go awaye, with thee it wyll departe
yet nether care for meate or slepe, could make him thus astarte
But in that shadowe place, besyde the well he lyes
where he behelde his fayned shape, with vncontented eyes
And lyfting vp those eyes, that his, destruction made
vnto the trees that stode aboute, he raught his armes and saide
Hath euer loue, oh woodes delte crueller with man
you knowe that hyding place, hath bene to louers now and than
Now can you call to mynde, you that suche worldes haue laste
that euer anye pyned so, by loue in ages paste.
[Page]I see and lyke it well, but that I lyke and see
yet fynde I not suche errour loe, this loue doth bring to mee
And to increase my grefe, no say nor yrkesome waye
no hylles nor valeys, with closyd, gates, dothe saye our meting nay
A lytle water here, dothe seuer vs in twayne,
he seketh I see, that I desyre, to be imbraced as fayne,
For looke how ofte my lippes, I moue to kysse the lake
so oft he sheweth his mouthe, content, full well the same to take
To touche thee, mighte full well, a man wolde thinke be dime
it is the leste of other thinges, that louers oughte to shine
What so thou be come forthe, why doste thou me disseyue
why flyest thou hym, that the somuche, desyreth to receyue
My bewtie and mine age, truely me thynkes I se
it is not that thou doste mislyke, for nimphes haue loued me
Thou promyste to me a hope, I wot not howe
with frendly cheare, and to mine armes the same thou dost vnbowe
Thou smylest when I laughe, and eke thy trekeling teares
when I doe weepe I ofte espy, with sines thy countenaunce steares
By mouing of thy lyppes, and as I ges I lerne
thou speakest words, the sence whereof, myne eares can not deserne
Euen this I am I se, my proper shape I knowe
wyth louing of my selfe, I borne I mone, & beare the gloue
What shall I doe, and if I aske what shall I craue
aboundaunce brings me want, with me, it is that I would craue
Oh wolde to God I myght, departe my body fro
in hym loues this that wyshe is strang, hys lyking to for go
But nowe my strength, throughe payne is fled, and my yeares
full sone or lyke to ende, thus dethe away my youth it beares
Yet dethe that endeth my wooes, to me it is not so sure
He whom I loue ryght fayne, I wold myght lyue alenger houre
Nowe to one quod he, together let vs dye
In euell estate and to his shape, returneth by and by
And wyth his gusshynge tearys, so vp the water starte
hys shape that ther by darkened was, whiche when he sawe departe
Nowe whether doste thou go, abyde he cryed faste
forsake not hym so cruelly, hys loue that on the cast
Thoughe thee I may not touche, my sorowes to asswage
yet maye I looke, relefe to geue vnto my wretrhed rage
And whylest he thus tormentes, he barred all his cheste
before the well with stonye fystes, and beates his naked breste
[Page]Wyth a carnacion hue, by strockes thereon dyd leaue
none other wyse then apples whyte, wyth ruddy sydes receaue.
Or as the growyng grapes, on sundry clusters strepe
a purpyll coler as we se, or euer they be rype,
Whyche as he dyd espye, wythin the water clere
no lenger coulde he duere the payne, he sawe he suffred there.
But as by fyre, to waxe ameltyng doth insue
and as by hete the rysing sunne, consumeth the mornynge due,
So feblyd by loue, to waste he doth begynne
at lenght and quyte consumeth, by heate of hydyng fyre wythin,
And nether hath he nowe, heare of red and whyte
no lyuelynes nor lusty strength, that earst dyd eyes delyte
Nor yet the corpys remaynes, that Ecco once had loued
whiche tho wyth angry mynd she vewed, to sorow she was moued,
And loke howe ofte alas, out of hys mouth dyd passe
so ofte agayne wyth boundyng wordes, she cryed alas alas,
And when that he hys sydes, wyth rechles handes dyd stryke
she also then was hard to make, a sounde lamentynge lyke
Thus lokyng in the well, the last he spake was thys
alas thou ladde to much in vayne, beloued of me a mys,
Whych selfe same wordes agayne, this Ecco streight dyd yell
and as Narcissus toke hys leue, she bad hym eke fayre well
Hys hed that hym abused, vnder the grasse he thraste
and deth shut vp those eyes, that on there master mused faste
And when he was receyued, into that hyllye place
he yeke wythin the ogly stype, behelde hys wretched face
The wood and wattrye nimphes, that all hys susterne were
bewayles hys lot as is ther wonte, wyth cuttynge of theyr heare
Whose waylinge Eccoes sounde dyd mournyng lyke declare
for graue pompe, a bayre wyth lyghtes and fyre they dyd prepare
Then body was ther none, but growing on the ground
a yelowe flower wyth lylly leaues, in sted therof they founde.
FINIS. FABVLE.

¶ The moralization of the Fable. in Ouid of Narcissus.

A Tale wherein some wysdome may be founde
May be alowed, of suche as lyes refuse,
Hereon I meane not, that my wytte can grounde
A matter fytte for all menne to vse,
The prayse hereof I vtterly refuse,
And humbly them beseche to reade the same,
Me to excuse or by theyr Iudgement blame.
For neither I presume, by youthfull yeares,
The vm­belues of y e author.
To clayme the skyl that elder folkes, doe wante,
Nor vndertake that wyser often feares,
To venter on my spites, then would pante
Right well I knowe, my wyttes be all to skante
But I by your correction, meane to trye,
If that my head to reason can applye.
I meane to shewe, accordyng to my wytte
That Ouyd by this tale no follye mente
To suche as inbra­se not knolege.
But soughte to shewe, the doynges far vnfytte
Of soundrye folke, whome natuer gyftes hath lente,
In dyuers wyse to vse, wyth good in tente
And howe the bownty torneth to theyr payne
That lacke the knowledge, of so good a gayne
Whiche Ouid now this Poete sure deuine
Doth collour in so wonderfull a sorte
Profita­ble coūsel
That suche as twyse, refuse to reade a lyne
Wyth good aduice, to make there wytte resorte
To reasons schole, their Lessons to reporte
Shall neuer gather Ouids meanyng straunge
That wysdome hydeth, with some pleasaunt chaunge.
Hys tales doe Ioyne, in suche a godly wyse,
That one doth hange vpon anothers ende,
As who should saye, a man should not despyse,
[Page]To loke before whiche waye hys worke wyll bends
And after howe he maye the same amende
Thus Ouid bydes hys readers for to knowe
The thynges aboue as well as those belowe
The fable that he tretyd of before
Is howe that Iuno fell in argumente
Wyth Iupiter, whiche after leasuer more
To wryte at lardge, then tyme conueniente
For souche a cause haue in defferente
But to be shorte, Tericious was theyr iudge
Whose sentence Iuno semed for to grudge
For she because he sayde not as she wolde
Bereft him of his eyes and made him blinde
As one vnfitt to vew the worlde that coulde
No better Iudge vnto a womans mynde
Redres where of none Iupiter colde find
But with some honour to releue his wooe
Eche thinge to come he made him surely knowe.
The for meste profe, where of in this same tale
Lireope, the nymphe receued nowe
That dyd demaunde an answere not to fayle
If that her Childe, to home her lykinge vowe
Euen at the fyrste was geuen him to allowe
shoulde not parfite years, and manie growe
Yea yea quod, he him selfe yf he not knowe.
Here as I sayd, appearith that the ende
Desserne the truth of euery thynge.
Of euery tale another doth begynne
Here lykewise may we se the poette, bende
To byd vs loke his meaninge here with in
Supposinge that, ther wittes be verye thin
That will be holde the skabard of the blade
And not the knife wherfore the shethe was made.
For if that Ovids meaninge was to wryghte
But how Narcissus, drinkinge of a wel
With shade of him selfe dyd so delyghte
[Page]That there til deth he thoughte to starue and dwell
Bothe him a foole, a ly in verse to tell
The wise mighte think, & those that rede the same
To be vnwyse and merite greatier blame.
The torninge of Lycaon to a,
God punisheth for sinne.
beast
Doth well declare that to the wickid sorte
Full heneous plagis preparid be at leaste
Of god that to ther doinges will resorte
With Iustice hande at home they cannot sporte
But yf they seke for to withstande his wyll
They finde to worke them selues a waye to spill.
By sayinge eke, of Pirha,
God pre­serueth the Iuste.
& her make
Dengalyon from the consuming floude
What else is mente but god a boue dothe take
An order euer to presarue the good
From perill still, in timis that they be woode
That few or none but souche as god doth chuse
Can happie lyue, or them from harme excuse.
And Daphus chaunginge to the laurer grene
A prayse of ver­ginite.
whose leues in winter neuer loste there hue
Doth well to vs betokin as I wene
That souche as to virgynitie be true
Mortall glorye euer shall ensue
And as the laurer lynes in winters rage
So shall ther prayse though death deuour there age.
Of Pheton eke Appolles wretched sonne
That wolde presume his fathers carte to gyde
Of corage more,
A good warning to yonge people.
then counsell wel begonne
what may be thoughte, but souche as will a byde
with small aduice not from there will to slyde
And do refuse ther fathers councel suer
There helpeles harmis, vnto them selues procuer.
What nedyth me examples to reherse
Sith I do take an other thinge in hande
These shewe that poetties colour vnder verse
[Page]Souch wysdome as they can not vnderstande
The hede wysdome of the po­etes.
That lyghtelye lyst to loke on lernynges lande
But suche as wyth aduyce, wyll vewe the same
Shall lessons fynde therby, ther lyues to frame
And now to tourne vnto the tale I meane
To treate vppon when that the dome was rede,
Of this Cephicious sonne, by one that cleane
Had lost the syght of all that nature brede
A vayne pronounce, it semed that he sprede
Whose sentence hym selfe, dyd not know
To perfyght age hys lyfe he shall bestowe.
Tericias heare whome maye we lyke vnto
Happy ar they that do soo.
Euen suche a man, as hath no mynde to gayne
Wyth ryghteus lyppes, that seke no wronge to do
That yelde to ryches, for no maner of payne
Ne yet the truthe in anye thinge wyll layne
Which shall as he was blynde for Iustice sake
Be quyte berefte of all that he can make.
For he that wyl not Iunose seruaunte be
I meane not now the pleasyng of the stoute
And myghty dames that wolde haue all agre
Truth is often shente.
Unto theyr fancees that they go aboute
But he I saye, and profe doth put no doute
That wyl not seke the ryche foulke to please
Through hate and wronge, hath often lyttle ease.
Yet when they lacke this vse of worldely syghte
That lyttel haue they lefte on erthe to see
And that by wronge another hath theyr ryghte
Bycause to wyll, ther wyttes wolde not agre
By losse herof they got a greater fee
For god of good doth gyue the knowledge more
Then all the gayne of erthe coulde the restore.
For wher theyr eyes be caste from worldely welth
And haue respecte to thynges that be a boue
[Page]In moche more perfecte wyse the certayne helthe
Shall they dyscerne,
The cars of the worlde leteth vertue.
then souche as haue a loue
To vayne desyers that ryse for to remoue
And forther be they a byll to a vowe
Of hydden thinges then worldlye folke alawe.
But as Teryssus Iudgemente semed vayne
In the foreredyng of Narcyssus fate
The fo­lish people regard no vertu nor good coū ­sell.
So folyshe folke, from credyt wyll refrayne
Of wysdomes voice, that seldome comes to late
They only marke, the presente erthely state
Without regarde of anye thynge at all
What in this lyfe or after may befaule
And yeke agayne regarde howe Ouid heare
Of prophecies doth show the doughtefulnes
Profecies be doughtful to me­dell with all.
Whose meanynge neuer playnely doth appeare
In doughtefull wordes that hath a hid pretence
wheron we gesse, but greate experience
Full ofte we fynde and prouynge of the same
Doth well declare our iudgementes be by ame
Wherfore we nether oughte to make to lyghte
we muste refer those thinges y e passeth our knowledge.
By the depining of a skylfull voyce
Nor yet presume so fare aboue oure myght
As of the certayne skanning to reioyce
Of hedden thinges that reche beyonde our choyse
For who can surely say it wyll be so
Or dyssaloue the thynge they do not knowe
Tericyas voice dyd Pentheus despyse
In countynge faulse the thynges that he foresawe
Yet of his deth they gesse dyd seme to wyse
Which he for tould by hys deuininge law
And Pirechus iugemente yeke appeared vayne
That wolde presume of dowtfull speche to make
A certayne sence the meaning to mystake.
People to take on them y t y t passeth there know­ledge.
So that herby righte well we maye regarde
what happe they haue that worke by doughteful gesse
To skorninge folke, & yeke the euile rewarde
That often faulyth the poete doth expresse
Thus two extremes he teachis to redresse
And by Narcissus warnith vs to be ware
Of the mishap, that pride doth still repare
For wel Narcissus may betoken here
Souche one as hath that other members wante
Prid marreth al.
As strengthe and power a cause of weakers feare
A passing witte aboue the ingnoraunte
Of beughtie ffayer in riches nothinge skante
And to conclude frome chefe of natuers packe
That hath the choyse that other thousandes lacke.
Who beinge decked with so goodlye giftes
shall haue a nomber that will moche requier
Of the acquayntaunce, for the diuers dreftes
Which fancie craueth to content desyre
But yf he haue the same a busyd fyer
That this Cephicious sonne did her receaue
Exampile take him selfe he shall desceaue.
A proude harte cō ­meth to confuciō.
The man that thinkes him selfe to haue no make
Eche offred frendeship, streighte, will quite refuse
For so narcissus carid not to take
The feloweship of souch as sought to chuse
His companie a boue the reste to vse
But as by pride he grwe in great disdayne
So for rewarde his ende was full of payne.
Whose strengthe is souche that it can moch preuayle
Yet cannot saye, I am the mooste of ryghte
Whose heapis of golde, be of foul hyghe a vayle
That rich is and bewty be vayne.
Yet nede not brage, to be the ritchest wight
Whose bewghtie yeke full pleasaunte is in syghte
Yet hath no cause to saye a boue the reste
I all dyspice for natuer made me beste.
No Cretuer hath euer yet bene soche
That can iustely saye, I moste excell
God thought here of the pride was verye moche
A nota­bill exsā pell for proude people.
When Lucyfer he caste from heauen to hell
In showynge wher presuminge folkys should dwell
None oughte to truste to ryches or to strengthe
To power or bewtye, all consumith at lengthe.
The Ryche, and proude,
To the ryche or dysdain­full man.
dysdaynefull welthye man
That Lazarus forbad, the crommes to eate
Whiche from his borde shoulde fall mighte after ban
His mouche a boundaunce and his dentye meate
Which was the cause of all his torment greate
Yet yf he coulde haue vsed well his gayne
He lyttel shoulde haue had of all his payne.
Now Cressus yeke,
Marke thys
the welthy kinge of Lide
Whose soms of goulde wer passinge to be toulde
Dyd se at laste his ritches wolde not byde
As Solon sayde his ende that did be houlde
Wherfore we proue, who potteth ther truste in golde
Or slypper welthe ar sene in care to dwell
And lose at laste, the good they like so well.
Of strengthe agayne,
No man oughte to truste in his owne strength.
who will him selfe auaunce
shall se that conqueste goes not all by myghte
This Dauid made the Phelystians, to graunte
That slue there giaunte Golyas ther kinghte
Agaynste the which noman the thought to wyghte
For al his pride yet sawe they at the laste
Him ouer throwe and ded by Dauydes caste.
Nowe Sampsons strengthe that caused all this wooe
A nota­bell ex­sampell for the hy mynded.
I ouer pas & Miloes mighte so straunge
That coulde induer a forlonge wel to go
And on his backe an oxe to beare the raung▪
For all his mighte to weke estate did chaunge
When that his strengthe did bringe his latter oure
To show the ende of myght and mortall power
Senacharyb the stronge assyryan kynge
Dyd put his whole affyaunce in his power
God is y e geuer of vyctorye.
Yet Ezechias, prayers good dyd brynge
His sore destruction in a soden ower
By nyghte the Angell, dyd hys hoste deuower
Wyth death where by Senacharib, myght knowe
That God full soone, his might could make full lowe.
Darius flighte, which Ferres ouer throwe
many profytable exsamples.
And Terus slaughter, by the Sicicthian Quene
Be fyttexamples, for to let vs knowe,
That who to power, wyll put their trust and wene
By onely might to vanquyshe, all besene
Of this their purpose oftentymes to fele
When fortune lyst to turne her happye whele.
Pryde is the destroyer of many good gyftes.
That bewties babes, muste bide the hard prepare
That ofte is sente, to bate their Iolye chere
Emonge the reste, doth Absalon declare
When not wythstanding, all his bewtie clere
And eke his fayre and yelowe golden heare
Betwene the bowes dyd hange, tyl that hys foes
Wyth deathes despatche, dyd ryd hym of his wooes.
The transitory thī ges of this world are not to be trustyd.
The sorowes greate, of Menelawes wyfe
Whose bewtie fayre, so farre to se was sought
The wretched ende, of Cleopatres lyfe
Whose ryche araye, was all to derely bought
Dothe plainly shewe, that all was vaine and nought
Thus riches strengthe and power, confesse we muste
Wyth bewtie eke, to slypper be to truste.
Agayne we se, eche mortall thynge decaye
A damage by dyspleasure, hath the ryche
And bewties blomis, full sone are blowne awaye
The stronge by syckenes, feles a feble stitche
From wele to woe, thus by promyse pytche
Our tyme is toste, with suche vnsuerties change
As to beholde, aduice maye thinke full strange.
Yet some ther be so pouffed vp with pride
And as Narcissus,
Disdayn fullnes and ora­bell vice.
drouned in dysdayne
That lyghte regarde they haue what will abide
So farre vn ware of ther in suing paine
Of other folke vnreakinge they remayne
As tho they thoughte, who worthie wer to be
A mate fulmete, & felowe fite for me.
To whome it happes as to Cephicious sonne
It chaunced her which Ecco did dyspise
The caulinge nimphe which ernist loue begonne
In hastie sorte dyd ende in wofull wise
Not muche vnlyke the vayne desyers that rise
By fruteles thoughts to get some folyshe thinge
Which harme, or else repentaunce farre will bring.
But by thys fable some there be suppose
That Ouyd mente to showe the fauinge sorte
A flaterar is not to be trus­ted.
Of flattringe folke whose vsage is to glose
With prayers swete, the men of gretiest, porte
And moste of welthe to whome the still resorte
In hope to gete, refusing nought to lye
The ende of speche as Ecco they applye.
For yf the men by whome they wene to gayne
No man shal learn the truth of a flate­rar.
shall saye me thinketh that this is verye well
Euen verye well they aunswer strayght agayne
As tho aduice had byd them so to tell
When verye nought they same mighte, reason spell
The ende of euerye fortunes darlinges voice
Thus they repete with out a forther choyse.
Nowe yf a tiraunte saye it shall be so
None other thinge but so they haue to speake
Although it tourne a thousande vnto wooe
The con­dycyons of a flate­rar.
The strong maye soupe to wracke maye goo the weke
So they the Riche, maye please they nothinge racke
The same, they saye, they aunswer after warde
As though it twise were worthye to be herde.
And leste I seme to ouerskippe the sence
Bocas a wryter of this same
Of anye wryghter worthye to be knowne
Wherby the poettes wise and hid pretence
With other wittes by trauell greate, great hath sowne
To showe what good of Ouides seede, is growen
Through my defaute maye skanned be a mysse
Uppon this fable, Bocase wryghtethe this.
By Ecco whiche dothe, spoken wordes repleate
And els is dome, I faine doo vnderstande
That mortaule folke dothe loue with feruente heate
And foloweth faste, in euerye plase and lande
As thinges wheron, her beinge all dothe stande
And yet the same a nomber will forsake
And lyghte esteme for folyshe pleasures sake.
Within whose well of shininge, gaye delyghtes
That we maye lyke vnto a water coulde
That slydynge is some time as Bocase, wryghtes
Them selues that is, ther glorye, they be holde
And are so sure in luste and pleasure coulde
That rapte therewith not abyll to astarte
From thense they be or from ther madnes parte.
And there at Laste, they dye which shame forsoke
Fame o­ther good or euell.
That them somoche desyred to embrace
Whose lyfe so loste, for lyttell prayse dyd loke
Of vertuse voyce, that bydes in euerye place
And byddeth fame to euery Coste to chase
There prayses greate that cause well deserue
Not with there Corpis to let, there name to starue.
But suche as, will make lyght the loue, of fame
For Lycorous luste, that lyketh them so well
By good desarties, and rekes for no good name
Howe muche in wytte, or beughtie they excell
Howe stronge or ryche so euer they shall dwell
Ther deinty ioyes, there body name and all
They lose at ones, which dethe ther lyfe, dothe call.
And yf pare happes, that natuer dyd bestowe
More good of them in lyfe then of the reste
And that ther by there some remembraunce growe
Of natuers bountye, gyuen them for the beste
Euen lyke a fadinge flower, this flytinge geste
I maye recimbell, which is freshe to daye
And yet or night is wetherid clene awaye.
What Bocas mente thus somwhat haue I toulde
The skanninge to of others ges herein
Of youthfull tyme yll spent.
I haue and will at laste at large vnfoulde
But where I left, nowe fyrste I will begynne
To showe howe moche the hastye sorte shall winne
By there dysdayne, the which Narcissus here
Dothe represente to me as dothe appeare.
For fyrste who was his bewtye and his shape
There with and notes of others his dysdayne
And then shall marke of his ende and his myshape
Who blinded was with his to good a gayne
As in a glasse shall se the picture playne
Of a full proude and ouer weninge wyghte
That natures gyftes dysdayne to vse arighte.
And sythe I haue declared here before
What lyttell truste, of ryghte we ought to haue
To that, whiche we receue, for to restore
To hym that firste our pleasynge treasures gaue
To suer to Ioye but when he lyste to craue
The good he sente the same he takyth a waye
Or we be ware, our hap so soone decaye.
Nowe wyll I showe that erste I sayd I wolde
Of this same talke in some Comparing sorte
What I conceue, the whiche not as I sholde
Yf I declare, and that my wittes resorte
Without the reche of wisdomes sober porte
Nowe of the learned I doo craue
And of my Iudgmente here the sence you haue
I fayne a man, to haue a godly wytte
The selfe same yeares that this Narcissus hade
With lyke dysdayne of others farre vnfytt
And then immagin one that wolde be glade
With counsayle good to cause him for to knowe
To make his witte bothe sober wise and sade
That prides rewarde is to be made ful lowe
And thissame one I, Ecco presuppose
By whome I gesse that good aduice is mente
Whiche is ful lothe a godly witte to lose
And sorye moche to se the same ylspente
She foloweth him therfore for this intente
To make him marke and well regarde the ende
Of euerye thinge that he dothe once intende.
Her nature is not to be full of talke
To suche as speke with out ad vise mente.
Not to deuice, but to aduice full well
wordyes y e springe frō youthefull thoughtes at walke
Not greinge still to reasons sober spelle
The endinge sence whereof she aye doth yel
As who shoulde saye we ought to regarde the cause
And ende of speche ofte spoke with lyttell, pause.
For sythe eche wordys and doinge oughte of righte
To be refarred vnto some reasons ende
With out respecte, whereof lyttel mighte
Our doinges reste which to no porpose bende
To sharpiste wittes, aduice, her loue douth sende
As fyttiste foulkes, to gayne her greate good will
If they receyue the good, she profers stil.
Nowe howe she waues this man, that hath this witte
I nede not tell, syth Ouyd doth declare
But hym she foloweth as she thinkes it fitte
Tell that she se him, voyde, of wanton care
To shape an aunswere then she dothe prepare
To euerye cencethat he shall speake or sounde
To cause him marke therof the certayne grounde.
The ende of euerye sence she repetis
Where by for what he spake he maye deserne
To suche as geue them sel­ues ouer to pleasur of vanites
But he that on the vaynes of pleasuer beatis
His wanton shippe without astedye starne
Of good aduice shall nothynge racke to learne
But her refuse when she wolde him inbrace
Affection so a waye doth reasone chase.
So this same man whome nature witte hath lente
A vertue greate to them that vse it well
Aduice,
Wytte well vsed moste ne­des be profitabell.
perhappes canne be contente
To heare and lysten what her wordes can spell
But when he once espies she thinketh to dwell
Contenually with him to be his make
Here offrid frendeshipe strayght he doth forsake.
To lyue by losse his good he doth refuse
Unbrydelyd will oh whether wilte thou trayne
This wandring witte that hath no power to chuse
The reddye waye to souche a perfite gayne
But as the blynde to passage right, dothe paine
Him selfe no more then when he goith amis
To winne thy woys asmouche thy trauayle is.
But whye accause I will that maye be charmed
By good aduice yf thou haddeste not dysdayne
Pryde is a vayne thinge.
Thy pride, thy pryde, hath worste of all the harmed
That poufes the vp vppon presumcions vayne
Whiche maketh those, continue, that wold be fayne
Of thy good will to make thy wittes full wise
Whose loue thou haste, the proffet to despise.
This witte refusing good aduice loue
And wandringe faste to willes vncertayne reach
To suche as dysdaynes good counsayl.
Dothe let her starne, that sought a waye to moue
Then happye ende that profe doth playnelye teache
Is full prepared, dysdaynefull folke to appeache
Whose pride is souche as puttes a waye the sighte
Of counsayle good and euerye iugement righte.
And so aduice I leue forsaken quite
As Ecco was for all her greate good will
And will declare, wittes rashe and madd dyspite
Of suche a frende neglect for lacke of skyll
Wherby he faste procures him selfe to spill
As one vnware, of all his wooes to come
Whose reckles lyfe receueth a wretched dome.
Acareles lyfe thus led in youthfull yeares
A wilfull waye be semeth well to take
So this same witte as wilde desyer him steres
Unconstantely, for luste and pleasures sake
From this to that his vayne inuenciones wake
Aresteles time in nedeles worke doth spende
Till that hereof he findes the folyshe, ende.
Then werye quite of all this wanton sporte
And trustinge moche to tast a more stabyll drynke
To prayse well bycause he dothe resorte
Whereby mishappe, he rather comes I thynke
Whose pleasaunte fare, and swete delyghtinge drinke
Who shall approche will thinke a thousand yeare
Tyll they haue sene there, in the water cleare.
Which hath in it no foule nor oglye syghte
Nor lothsome lokiynge ther a bate to stande
The syluer streames so shininge be and brighte
As can delyghte the greatest lorde in lande
The Ladys yeke full fayer wyth hande in hande
Will faste repare vnto this pleasaunte well
Wherewith aduice, I wyshe them all to dwell.
Whiche for bycause that witte dyd quite dyspyse
Nowe marke his harme, and harde predestenid woo
This well he faste behouldes in musynge wise
And lyes to drinke where more his thurste dothe growe
A lasse for that him selfe he doth not knowe
For ther he seethe the image of his grace
Hys shape and yeke proporcion of his face.
His wittes his strengthe and euerye other gyfte
That maye be thoughte a vertue anye waye
Appeareth therwith euerye sondrye shifte
That nature sendeth to make the carkes gaye
And yeke that Fortune lendes for eche assaye
There nought is hid that is worthye prayse to pyke
Nor ought is sene, that men mighte well mislike.
Where on they faster that his eyes be caste
There at the more his maruell doth increace
And yeke the more his maruel thus doth laste
The lesse he sekes his blinde desyer to cease
Which for syth loue to putte him selfe in prese
To lyke the thyng that better ware to lacke
Then by souche loue to bringe him selfe to wracke.
For who so Couettes that he cannot catche
And moste aloweth that nedyth mooste antendes
With so good will, and still desyres to watche
Suche wretched Ioyes a corsid, lyfe that spendeth
As profe doth teache vnto dystruccion bendes
Delyted so with that he shoulde refuse
And quite for sakinge that he oughte to chuse.
But of his loue suche is the blynde, respecte
And suche the swete, delightinge wretched plighte
That his a vaile he blyndelye doth neglecte
To helpe him selfe as one that hath no mighte
So rauished is he with the pleasinge sighte
Of that to him whiche lyttell pleasure gaynes
Unlesse we counte the wynning good of paynes.
For in this well to well he vewes the forme
Of euerye gyfte, and grace that nature gaue
To hym for that he chefelye shoulde perfourme
With good, moche good, his good therby to saue
Yet be his good, as sure is euel to haue
He gaynis the losse that other neuer fele
Which haue not wene suche welthe by fortunes whele.
And whye bycause he demes not as he oughte
Eche vertue lyketh value of the same
There be to ma­ny suche.
His face, the beste that euer was wrought
And shape he thinkes deserueth no maner blame
By wytte he wennes ful wyunderus thinges to frame
And what he hathe he thinkes all the beste
Besyds him selfe dispicinge all the reste.
All though in dede, he nether be so fayer
So well proporsmid, nor so suerlye wise
Ne yet in strengthe, be abyll to compayre
With halfe the nomber that he dyd dyspise
A boue them al he thinkes him selfe to prise,
Whiche ouer weninge, wins him all his wooe
A simpyll gayne I count, that hurtes me so.
For rapte so faste, through his abused eyes
To suche as flatter thē selues
Euen on him selfe, whereof he doth delighte
With in this well no fautes he euer spies
Whereby him selfe he anye waye might spite
But as eche face appearithe, fayre & quyte
Thoughe it be foule with in the flatringe glas
This lyinge lake, shewes euerye gyfte to passe.
Wherto he strayght consentes by Iudgemente blind
And grauntes to haue asmuch as semeth, and more
So easye lo, selfe loue is nowe to kinde
So some is had, so swete agreuous sore
So glade he is to kepe his harmis in store
So moche desyrous for to abyde his woo
And yeke so lothe his mischefe to for goo.
Which causith this, bycause of natuere all
Be pleased well, well of them selues to here
And yet the wyse, with good aduice will calle
Unto them selues yf they, deserue to beare
The praysys greate which seme so true & cleare
By others mouthes whiche euer taulke the beste
Of them they se, in good estate to reste.
Now witte that wantes all that wisdom willes
The wise to haue is voyde of this respecte
For what he hath he thinkes it greatlye skylles
But what he is, the whylst he doth neglecte
Thus Ioye to haue, so mouche doth him infecte
That care to be, so good as he appeares
He quite forsaketh, so blyndely loue him bleres.
Through which he losythe euerye verteous strengthe
And lackes the skyl, so godlye gyftes to vse
So euery good doth tourne to bade at lengthe
And he consumeth, him selfe that doth abuse
This lot is sente to him that will refuse
Aduices loue, to lyghte on prayseth well
Wher tyll he starue he still delytes to dwell.
To starue I meane, the good he hath to lose
To whiche I thinke him selfe he suer doth binde
That of him selfe more good doth presuppose
By lokinge in this present well so blinde
Them in him selfe a wiser man can finde
For who dothe couet him selfe of wyser skole
Then dedes him showe, doth proue him selfe a fole.
Who thinkes he hath more then he doth posses
In this not only is dysseued quite
But hath so moche of that he hath the lesse
Of wit I meane, wherin who shall delyghte
More then he oughte him selfe doth this dyspite
Un wittinge clene, the more he thinkes he hathe
Euen by somoche, hath lesse as Plato sayth.
So he that demes,
Suche as thinkes them sel­ues wise and yet ar folysh.
his witte a boue the reste
So moche the lesse, then others, hath here by
And he that thinkes, his one of all the beste
The worste of all it reason will replye
Al though the same he neuer can espie
Bycause he trusteth the lyinge well of prayse
Whereby his wit and all he hath decayes.
For syth, the well of prayse, aswell concistes
Uppon the springes of vnaduised talke
As of the voyce of wisdome, that resistes
The speches of foolys, whose tonges a wrye will walke
Besydes the pathe, of reasons, gidinge balke
It maye welbe that suche them selues dysseaue
As of vntrouth, a certayne truthes conseue.
Thus what hath made, this witte to starue we se
We must not truste our owne wittes beste.
Selfe loue the very hid consuming sore
Of godly wittes, that else coulde well agre
To euery sence of wisdoms presente lore
And now to showe the very cause wherfore
They lose the strength of this so good a gayne
And leue aduice, forsothe it is dysdayne.
This enuius heare, dysdayne, this dayntie, thynge
When it begins to harbour, in thy breste
Of anie man this harme it fyrste doth bringe
Contempte of those in better state, that reste
Then he is in, that counteth to be beste
So that his faultes, who fayne wolde haue him knowe
And by his frende he countes him as his foe.
Then of contemptes procedyth, hautye pride
The con­temptes of vertue commeth by pryde.
The which who gettes shall neuer lyghtely leue
So grete an euel so faste as sene to byde
Euen to the beste when it beginneth to cleue
That honour, wit, or anie gyfte receue
This of dysdayne, contempte, wherof procedes
The poyson pride, this same selfe loue that bredes.
All dys­dayne ful folkes are compared vnto Narcyssus.
Wherfore hereby I may conclude, a right
That as contempte, dyd cause Narcissus quayle
So by dysdayne eche wyghte, doth lose his myghte
And euery vertue through thissame, doth faile
As well Narcissus proueth in this same tale
Who loste through loue eche thinge he mooste dyd lyke
For his dysdayn who worse reuenge could pike.
Can greter woo to anie man betide
Then that to lose wherin he moste delites
No suer and yet to syrcuyte and pride
This is the Iuste reuenge, that still requites
Ther grete dysdayne, and al ther oulde dispites
To lacke of that, at laste they lyke so well
Which wante aboundaunce, makes with them to dwel.
This sence is straunge,
This is worthy to be marked.
& yet as true as quainte
That plentie shoulde be cause of greter, lacke
A man in helthe can neuer, lyghtlye faynte
The haypye man no missery dothe smacke
The Riche, by ritches, feles no nedye, wracke
Agayne who sittes in honours shyningchare
Is farre inough from wretched peoples share.
And what can happe, thus harme the happie man
Or can suche welth,
A true saynge.
ther maister bringe to woo
Can honors, forse ther honors them to ban
Can all this good so greue vs thus what no
Yes yes alas it proueth often so
Of agis paste exaumpils neuer grounde
Of these our dayes to manie may be founde.
Be therfore al these godly gyftes to blame
Bycause they come to wracke that them possesse
Honor & Ryches by godes good gyf­tes.
Na to be ryche it is no maner shame
Ne honour hurtis that helps to redres
The wronged foulke whome rigour doth oppres
Nor oughte is euel wherof the rightefull vse
Who shal obserue maye haue a Iuste excuse.
But this aboundaunce who shall euell abuse
And quite forget from whence these vertues flowe
Be ware of a bu­synge ho­nor and ryches.
The good they haue therby they quite refuse
And euery gyfte vnto agrefe shall growe
Mysuse of good thus them shall ouer throwe
Euen as Minarnais pipis that Marcias founde
Misused him harmed with swetenes of the sound.
This Marcias, was a boysterous country man
The pleasaunte pipes of pallase once he founde
The which to blowe assone as he began
Euen of them selues dyd gyue so swete a sounde
That better thoughte he not a boue the grounde
Wher in he strayghte dyd take so grete a pride
As though his mouthe dyd al, this musyke gyde.
Through whiche the musys with ther armonye
He thoughte could not so swete a sounde prepare
And eke Appollo god of melodye
He maye dys [...]de doune from his shininge chare
Also with him presuminge to compare
Full well contente to lose his lyfe if he
Made not his pypes more swetely to agre.
Then musikes god who seinge all his pride
Him fyrste dyd farr excel in conning playe
And then to make him by his couenaunte, byde
He made the skyn, of all his bodye flaye
An euell rewarde for this his vayne assaye
Un happye gyfte that gyues no better gayne
Naye folyshe man, that gydes it to thye payne.
Good gyftes mysse vsed.
So that heareby I gather euerye gyfte
Misusyde maye harme the honours of the same
And though to some, that natures bountye lyfte
A grace where of a nother shall be lame
This godly gefte, is not a whyte to blame
Although their honours through the same shall quayle
The rightefull vse, that lacke, of souche a vayle.
For yf so be, that Marcias had knowen
That of him selfe, not all his conning came
He nether wolde haue striuen to haue blowne
Ne yet presumed to venter for the game
With him that was the aucther of the same
If he had knowen howe, well to vse this gaine
He it mighte well haue kepte & not bene flayne.
But who can knowe, that wil dysdayne to learne
And who can lerne that reckes not to be taughte
So well to vse his welthe who can deserne
That des­dain is the destroyer of the wisdome.
That this dysdayne, this vename, greate, hath caughte
This same made Marcias, that he neuer raught
To knowe of whome his melodye dyd rise
This made Narcissus, Ecco yeke dyspise.
And to conclude this causyde, witte forsake
Aduice whose lacke, dyd lose him all his gayne
For loke euen as Narcissus by the lake
His beughtie loste by bewtyes sore dysdayne
And that his profet purcheste, all his payne
So witte, that hath dysdayne, shall so presume
That throughe his witte, his wit shall clene consume.
Wherfore, this vice, that euerye vartue marres
That priuate weale,
A good wyshe of y e Aucther.
conuerts to preuate woo
That eche degre, ther rightefull dewtye bares
Who redyth, this tale, I wishe, so well mighte knowe
That in ther hartes, no sede therof mighte growe
Where of eche, wighte deuoide, by good aduise
Maye ryghtely vse there gyftes of greatiste prise.
Thus haue you harde the simpill sence
That I haue gatherid by my symple witte
Of Ouides tale, whose wise & hid pretence
Though as I shoulde parhappes I haue not hirre
Yet as I could and as I thoughte it fitte
I haue declared, what I can conseue
Full glade to learne, what wiser folke parceaue
And now to kepe my couenaunte & procede
Fysius a writer of the same.
Of others Iugementes, to declare the fecte
Of thissame tale, Ficius wrytes in dede
A wise oppinion not to be neglecte
Of souche asseme, to be of reasons secte
The which I wolde not skip emonge the reste
Leaste his Inuencion, some maye thinke the beste.
A rashe mans minde, that hath no skyl sayth he
By this Narcissus verye well is mente
His proper shape, that hath no power to se
That is the proper, office which is sente
Unto the minde, by no meane can conuente
To se and marke, as eche man oughte of righte
And to performe accordinge to ther mighte.
But as Narcissus, onlye dyd desyer
Hys shadowe in the water to imbrace
So this same minde dothe nothinge els requier
Of brittil bewtye, but to marke the case
That in the bodye hath the bydinge place
Which onlye is the shadowe of the minde
As it mighte knowe in case it were not blinde.
Thus minde, thus noughte desyringe, but his shade
That is the beutie in the carcase frayle
Not beinge abyl to deserne the trade
The which it oughte of righte for to assayle
Hereby forsaketh, quite the one a vayle
And losyth bothe his proper shape herein
And yeke his shadowe hath no power to win.
For euery minde, becoms the bodys man
In so louinge it, it selfe, dothe quite despise
The boddys vse, and yet it no waye can
Enioy and haue accordinge to the guise
And order due that natuer doth deuice
But thus doth both the bodys vse mystake
And of it selfe the office true forsake.
Better it is to haue the mynd garnished w t vertu then a fo­lyshe bodi bewtyful
The office of the minde, is to haue power
Uppon the bodye, and to order well
The bodys office yeke in euery hower
It is of the minde to lerne the perfite skyll
The vayne desyers that rise, him by to kill
Wherby the mynde dothe kepe his perfite strength
And yeke the bodye vanquishe loste at length.
Now where the minde is drowned with desyre
Of suche delyghtis as to the bodye longe
The boddye then moste nedes consume with fyer
Of raginge lustes a boute the same that thronge
So that the minde, is cause of bothe ther wronge
To put it selfe, out of the proper place
And bringe the bodye, to so euel a case.
For thus the minde, that oughte of righte,
The mīd beynge repleny­shed with euyl bryngeth body & soule to confusion
to be
The teacher of the bodye to do well
Doth make the same to euery euill agre
Procuringe that it shoulde of right expell
Wherby in bothe, a mouinge blinde doth dwell
Euen as within Narcyssus dyd remayne
That through his shadowe to be soche agayne.
And as Narcissus, neuer coulde attayne
The re­warde of suche as geue thē selues to vayne pleasurs.
His shadowe which he wisshed for so faste
And that his loue dyd lede him to his payne
Euen so thys minde that reasons bondes hath paste
It selfe and from, the proper place hath casts
Shall neuer gayne that it dothe moste desyer
Suche is to folye styll the folowinge hire.
For thoughe it Couet moche, a safe estate
And seke it selfe to plante in perfite plighte
Yet this desyer, prosedyth all to late
When will is bente, to loue vayne delight
Whose rashe regarde descerns not blacke from whyte
Who wolde be well, worketh other wise
Of beinge well, the suertie dothe despise.
And when this minde, hath wroughte somoche amisse
Thus blindely from his perfecte, place to fall
We moste nedys graunte a kinde of dethe it is
A thinge deuine, and perfecte, to be thrall
Unto the carcas moste corrupt of all
When this immortall minde, shall seke to serue
Eche mortall thinge, his vertue nedes muste sterue.
This is the meaninge of Ficius sence
That in this wise one Plato doth wryghte
And nowe to show, the learned mennes pretence
With Ouides tale the reders to delyghte
Two there were that somewhat dyd indits
Of this same fable, whiche I will declare
Leaste anye wryter I maye seme to spare.
The one hereof, asence deuine, doth make
No foole he semethe, that walles hath to name
And englyshe man, which thus doth vndertake
For sowles behoufe, to deskant on this same
There by sayth he a nomber moche to blame
That as Narcissus, lettes there bewty quale
Because they quite misuse there good auayle.
For dyuers whych in bewty, much excell
Eyther inshape that in the bodys gyft
In knowledge els whych in the mynd, doth dwell
Or to conclude in ryches, which is lyft
To sundry men by fortunes hydynge shyft
Before the same so puffed vp wyth pryde
That all, to base, they thynke wyth them to byde.
What then, to thys what is the due reward
Forsoth these derlynges wyth theyr great dysdayne
wythin the well of worldly wealth, regarde
Thys same apperaunce of their blysfull gayne
Whych lastith not, but as the shadowe, vayne
Doth passe a waye, euen so doth come to goe
Eche thynge we haue the vse affyrmeth so.
Now in thys welle the apperaunce of theyr state
Doth them so please and eke so well contente
That seynge it they nothynge else awaite
The nought can lowe they nothyng can consent
To prayse or lyke but all to thys intente
Them selues, full farr aboue the rest aduaunce
And styll to glorye of here happye chaunce
Thus through this glorye of ther lyfe to moche
The chefeste lyfe, the lyfe of soules the lose
There blinde desyer and fonde regarde is soche
Them selues in all this daunger, for to close
This Englyshe wryter heare of doth thus suppose
The other nowe whome Italye dyd brede
As foloweth wrytes, to them that shall yet rede.
In Grece there was a passinge fayer yonge man
A Lear­nyd man of Italye a writer of y e same
Whose beutye broughte him vnto suche a pride
That through thessame vnto such dysdayne he ran
As but him selfe he none coulde well a bide
But counted other all as vile besyde
Through which his ende was wretchedly to dye
With in the woodes to starue and ther to lye.
And wheras Oued, doth hereof affirme
That this Narcissus,
Mannes lyfe is lyke a flowere.
was traunsformed at laste
Into a flower, he only doth confirme
That youth and bewghte, come and soone be paste
Euen as the flower, that wetherithe full fast
And for by cause, in wodes the nimphes do dwell
His deathe bewaylyd of them dothe Ouid tell.
Agayne where the poete dothe a vowe
That this Narcissus dyed by a lake
It maye well be, by cause he dyd a lowe
None fette or worthye to become his make
But euery man despysing, dyd for sake
That some of hatrid and of malyce fell
For his dysdayne dyd drowne him in a well.
Thus moche this same Italyan wryter here
Doth finde as true, his wryghtinges do proffes
So it maye well be all that wrote appeare
Of this same fable other more or lesse
That stil dysdayne doth cause the greter distres
Of euery good that natuers bountie gyues
To eche estate, vppon the yearthe that lyues.
Wherfore who hath, no sparckel of this vice
Are lyke to kendel in them selues no flame
Of anie euel but styll by good aduice
Shall so them selues and all there doinges frame
As shall at all deserue no maner blame
Whoe wantes this vice therby shall chefely staye
To euerye euell the very reddy waye.
Thus haue you harde what hath ben thought
By soundry foulke, of thissame Ouides tale
Where by I proue that al herin haue soughte
To showe that Ouid wryt for good a vale
Declaringe howe they lykest ar to quayle
That greatyst store of anie good receyue
The ryghtfull vse therof and leaste perceue.
To moche posses so that it is no prayse
But thynges possessed, ryghtfully to vse
For eche possescion, by and by decayes
And suche as by possescinge shall abuse
All they posses, with shame, shall sone refuse
Wherfore the moste, ar worthy to posses
Whose spotlesse dedes, the rychest vse expresse.
And thus my simpel trauayle I commende
Unto euery one, prayinge you to take
The same in worthe and when more yeares shall sende
More wyt and yeke more knowledge shall a wake
Suche labours lyke I mene not to forsake
As knoweth god who kepe vs alwaye
Saue and defend vs from all decaye.
Quod. TH.
FINIS.

Imprinted at Lon­don by Thomas Hackette, and are to be solde at hys shop in Cannynge strete ouer agaynst the thre Cra­nes.

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