1. Our pleasures are vantiies.
BEholde the blast which blowes the blossomes from the tree,
The ende whereof, consumes and comes to nought we see,
Ere thou therefore be blowne from lyfe that may not last,
Begin for grace to call, for time mispent and past.
Haue minde on brittle life, whose pleasures are but vayne,
On death likewise bethinke, how thou shalt not remayne.
And feare thy Lord to greeue, which sought thy soule to saue,
To sinne no more be bent, but mercy aske and haue.
For death who doth not spare, the kings on earth to kill,
Shall reape also from thee, thy pleasure, life and will:
That life which yet remaynes, and in thy brest appeares,
Hath sowne in thee such seedes, you ought to weede with teares.
And life that shall succeede, when death is worne and past,
Shall spring for euer then, in ioy or payne to last:
Where death on life, hath power ye see, that life also,
Hath mowen the fruites of death, which neuer more shall grow.
FJNJS.
W. Hunis.
2.
Who waighteth on this wauering world, and veweth ech estate.
By triall taught shall learne it best, to liue in simple rate.
AMid the vale the slender shrubbe is hid from all mishap,
When taller tree that standes aloft, is rent with thunder clappe,
The Turrets tops which touch the clouds, are beat with euery blast,
Soone shiuered are their stones with storme, and quickly ouer cast.
Best bodyed tree in all the world, for timber beame is found,
And to the axe the sturdiest Oxe, doth yeelde and fall to ground.
The highest hill doth soonest feele, the flash of lightninges flame,
And soone decayes the pompe and pryde, of high renowned name,
Of all the heard the huntman seekes, by proofe as doth appeare,
With double forked arrow head, to wound the greatest Deare.
The haughtiest head of all the droue, enioyest the shortest life,
And stains the slaughter house with blood, at prick of butchers knife.
Thus what thing highest place attaines, is soonest ouerthrowne,
What euer fortune sets aloft, she threats to throw it downe.
[Page 1]And though no force resist thy power, and seeke thee to confound,
Yet doth the praise of weighty thinges declyne it selfe to ground.
For restlesse tipe of rowlling wheele, example hath it tride,
To heauy burthen yeelde it must full soone, and slippe asyde.
What vailes the rich his bed of downe, y
t sighes for sleepeles thought
What time in couch of flock the poore, sleepes sound & feareth nought
At homely boord his quiet foode, his drinkes in treene be tane,
When oft the proude in cuppes of gold, with wine receiue their bane.
The bed, the boord, the dread in doubt, with trayne to be opprest,
When fortune frownes, their power must yeelde as wyre vnto y
e wrest
Who so thou be that sits alow, and tread the valleyes path,
Thou needes not feare the Thunder bolts of mighty Ioue his wrath
If
Icarus had not presumed to high to take his flight,
He had not yet bene drowned in Seas, that now
Jtarion hight,
If
Phaeton had not enterprised to guide his fathers seate,
His fires had not inflamed the world, nor bene destroyed with heate,
But who so climes aboue the meane, there is no hope of stay,
The higher vp, the sooner downe, and nearer his decay.
Then you that here in pompe are plaste, to guide the golden mace,
Let crowne and Scepter both obay the meane of vertues race.
For neither shall renowned vertue see the pitte of hell,
Nor yet in tombe of Marble stone, she shall abide to dwell,
And in that Tombe full brauely dect When that she shall depart,
God send her rest and all thinges well, according to desart.
But from Sepulcher flies she hence, beyond the skies aboue,
And glistering in the blisfull starres, she raignes with mighty Ioue.
FINJS.
Iasper Heywood.
3. The perfect triall of a faithfull friend.
NOt stayed state, but feeble stay, not costly robes, but bare aray:
not passed welth, but presēt wāt, not heped store but slēder skāt.
Not plenties purse, but poore estate, not happy hap, but froward fate,
Not wish at wil, but wāt of ioy, not harts good helth but harts anoy.
No fredomes vse, but prisoners thrall, not costly seate, but lowest fall
Not weale I meane but wretched wo, doth truly trie y
e friend frō foe,
And nought but frowarde Fortune prooues, who fawning faynes, or simply loues.
FINIS.
M. Yloop.
4. Being asked the occasion of his white head, He aunswereth thus.
WHere seething sighes and sorrow sobbes,
Hath slaine the slippes that Nature set,
And scalding showers with stonie throbbes,
The kindly sapp from them hath fet,
What wonder their though that you see,
Vpon my head whyte heares to be.
Where thought hath thrilde and throwne his speares,
To hurt the hart that harmeth him not,
And groning grefe hath ground forth teares,
Myne eyne to stayne, my face to spot,
What wonder then, though that you see,
Vpon my head whyte heares to bee.
Where pinching payne himselfe hath plaste,
There peace with pleasures were possest,
And where the walles of wealth lye waste,
And pouertie in them is prest,
What wonder then though that you see,
Vpon my head whyte heares to bee.
Where wreatched woe will weaue her web,
Where care the clew can catch and cast,
And floods of ioy are fallen to ebbe,
So lo, that life may not long last,
What wonder then though that you see,
Vpon my head white heares to bee.
These heares of age are messengers,
Which bid me fast, repent and pray:
They be of death the Harbingers,
That doth prepare and dresse the way,
Wherefore I ioy that you may see,
Vpon my head such heares to be.
They be the liues that lead the length,
How farre my race is for to runne:
They say my youth is fled with strength,
And how old age is weake begunne,
The which I feele, and you may see,
Vpon my head such lines to be.
They be the stringes of sober sound,
Whose musick is harmonicall:
Their tunes declare a time from ground
I came, and how thereto I shall.
Wherefore I ioy that you may see,
Vpon my head such stringes to bee.
God graunt to those that white heares haue,
No worse them take then I haue ment:
That after they be layde in graue,
Their soules may ioy their liues wel spent.
God graunt likewise that you may see,
Vpon your head such heares to be.
FINIS.
W. Hunis.
5. Beware of had J wist.
BEware of had I wist, whose fine bringes care and smart,
Esteeme of all as they deserue, and deeme as deemde thou art:
So shall thy pefect friend, enioy his hoped hyre,
And faithlesse fawning foe, shall misse theffect of his desyre.
Good wilt shall haue his gayne, and hate shall heape despight,
A faythlesse friend shall find distrust, and loue shall reape delight.
Thy selfe shall rest in peace, thy friend shall ioy thy fate,
Thy foe shall fret at thy good happe, and I shall ioy thy state.
But this my fond aduise, may seeme perchaunce but vayne,
As rather teaching how to lose, then how a friend to gayne.
But this not my intent, to teach to finde a friend,
But safely how to loue and leaue, is all that I intend.
And if you prooue in part, and finde my councell true,
Then wish me well for my good will, tis all I craue, adue.
FJNJS.
‘My luck is losse.’
6. M. Edwardes MAY.
WHen
MAY is in his prime, then
MAY eche hart reioyce,
When
MAY bedecks eche branch with greene, ech bird streins forth his voice
The liuely sappe creepes, vp into the bloming thorne,
The flowres, which cold in prison kept, now laughes y
e frost to skorne.
All natures Impes triumphes, whiles ioyfull May doth last,
When
MAY is gone, of all the yeere the pleasant time is past.
MAY makes the cheerful hue,
MAY breedes & brings new blood.
MAY marcheth throughout euery lim,
MAY makes y
e mery mood.
MAY pricketh tender harts, their warbling notes to tune,
Ful strange it is, yet some we see, doe make their
MAY in
June.
Thus thinges are strangly wrought, whiles ioyful
MAY doth last,
Take
MAY in time, when
MAY is gone, y
e pleasant time is past.
All ye that liue on earth, and haue your
MAY at will,
Reioyce in
MAY, as I doe now, & vse your
MAY with skill.
Vse
MAY, while that you may, for
MAY hath but his time,
When all the fruite is gone, it is to late the tree to clime.
Your liking and your lust, is freshe whyles
MAY dooth last,
When
MAY is gone, of all the yeere, the pleasant time is past.
FJNJS.
M. Edwardes.
7. Faire wordes make fooles faine.
JN youthfull yeeres when first my young desyres began,
To pricke me forth to serue in Court a sclender tal young man:
My fathers blessing then I aske vpon my knee,
Who blessing me with trembling hand, these words gan say to me:
My sonne, God guide thy way, and shield thee from mischaunce,
And make thy iust desartes in Court, thy poore estate to aduaunce:
Yet when thou art become one of the Courtly trayne,
Thinke on this prouerbe old (qd he) that faire words make foles fain.
This counsell grauely giuen, most straunge appeares to me,
Till tract of time with open eyes, had made me plainely see:
What subtill sleightes are wrought by painted tales deuise,
When hollow harts with freendly shewes the simple do entise.
[Page 3]To thinke all golde that shynes, to feede their fond desire.
Whose sheuering cold is warmd with smoke, in steede of flaming fyre,
Sith talke of tickle trust, doth breede a hope most vayne,
This prouerbe true by profe I find, that faire words make fooles fain.
Faire speeche alway doth well, where deedes insue fayre wordes.
Faire speech again alway doth euill, that bushes giue for byrdes,
Who hopes to haue faire words, to trie his luckie lot,
If I may councell, let him strike it while the yron is hot.
But them that feede on cloddes, in steede of pleasaunt grapes,
And after warning often giuen, for better luck still gapes,
Full loth I am, yet must I tell them in wordes playne,
This prouerbe olde proues true in them, that faire words make fooles fayne.
Wo worth the time that wordes so slowly turne to deedes,
Wo worth the time y
t faire sweet flowers are grown to rotten weedes,
But thrise wo worth the time that truth away is fled,
Wherein I see how simple harts, with wordes are vaynely fed,
Trust not faire wordes therefore, where no deedes doe insue,
Trust words as skilfull Falkeners do trust Hawkes that neuer flewe,
Trust deedes, let words be words which neuer wrought me gayne,
Let my experience make you wyse, and let words make fooles fayne.
FJNJS
M. Edwardes.
8 Jn his extreame sicknesse.
WHat greeues my bones, and makes my body fainte
What prickes my flesh and teares my head in twayne?
Why doe I wake when rest should me attaint?
When others laugh, why do I liue in payne?
I tosse, I turne, I chaunge from side to side,
And stretch me oft in sorrowes linkes betyde.
I tosse, as one betost in waues of care,
I turne, to flye the woes of lothsome lyfe:
I change, to spie if death this corpes might spare,
I stretch to heauen to rid me of this strife:
Thus doe I stretch, and chaunge, and tosse, and turne,
Whyle I in hope of heauen my lyfe do burne.
Then hold thee still, let be thy heauinesse,
Abolish care, forget thy pining woe:
For by this meanes soone shalt thou finde redresse,
When oft betost, hence thou to heauen must goe.
Then tosse, and turne, and tumble franke and free,
O happy thryse, when thou in heauen shalt be.
FINIS.
L. Vaux.
9. For Christmas day.
Reioyce reioyce with heart and voyce,
Jn Christes birth this day reioyce.
FRom Virgins wombe this day did spring,
The precious seede that onely saued man:
This day let man reioyce and sweetely sing,
Since on this day saluation first began.
This day did Christ mans soule from death remdite.
With glorious sainctes to dwell in heauen aboue.
This day to man, came pledge of perfect peace,
This day to man, came loue and vnitie:
This day mans griefe began for to surcease,
This day did man receiue a remedie.
For each offence and euery deadly sinne,
With guiltie hart that erst he wandred in.
In Christes flocke, let loue be surely plaste,
From Christes flocke, let concord hate expel:
Of Christes flocke let loue be so embraste,
As we in Christ, and Christ in vs may dwell.
Christ is the authour of all vnitie,
From whence proceedeth all felicitie.
O sing vnto this glittering glorious king,
O praise his name let euery liuing thing:
Let hart and voyce like Belles of siluer ring,
The comfort that this day did bring.
Let Lute, let Shalme, with sound of sweete delight,
The ioy of Christes birth this day resight.
FINIS.
F. Kindlemarsh.
10 For Easter day.
ALl mortal men this day reioyce, in Christ that you redeemed hath,
By death w
t deth sing we w
t voice, to him y
t hath appesd gods wrath
Due vnto man for sinfull path, wherein before he went astray,
Giue thankes to him with perfect faith that for man kinde hath made this glorious day.
This day he rose frō tombe again, wherin his precious corse was laid
Whom cruelly y
e Iewes had slaine, with bloody wounds ful il araid:
O man be now no more dismayd, if thou henceforth from sin do stay,
Of death thou needest not be afraide, Christ conquered death for this his glorious day.
His death preuailed had no whit, as Paule y
e Apostle wel doth write,
Except he had vprisen yet, from death to life by Godlike might,
With most triumphant glittering light,
This day his glory shined I say, and made vs bright as sunne this glorious day.
O man arise with Christ therfore, since he from sin hath made the fre,
Beware thou fall in sinne no more, but rise as Christ did rise for thee,
So maist thou him in glory see, when he at day of doome shall say,
Come thou my child and dwell with me, God graunt vs all to see that glorious day.
FINIS.
quoth Jasper Haywood.
11. For Whitsunday.
COme holy ghost eternall God, and ease the wofull greefe,
That through the heapes of heauy sin, can no where find releefe.
Doe thou O God redresse
The great distresse
Of sinfull heauinesse.
Come comfort the afflicted thoughtes of my consumed hart,
O ryd the pearcing pricking paines of my tormenting smart:
O holy ghost graunt me
That I by thee
From sinne may purged be.
Thou art my God, to thee alone I will commend my cause,
Nor glittering gold nor precious stone, shall make me leaue thy laws:
O teach me then the way
Whereby I may
Make thee my onely stay.
My lippes, my tongue, my hart and al, shall spread thy mighty name,
My voyce shall neuer cease to sound the prayses of the same:
Yea euery liuing thing
Shall sweetely sing
To thee (O heauenly king.)
FINIS.
F. K.
12. No pleasure without some payne.
SWeete were the ioyes that both might like and last,
Straunge were the state exempt from all distresse,
Happy the life that no mishap should tast,
Blessed the chaunce might neuer change successe,
Were such a life to leade, or state to proue,
Who would not wish that such a life were loue.
But O the sowrie sauce of sweete vnsure,
When pleasures flye and flit with wast of wind:
The trustlesse traines that hoping harts allure,
When sweete delightes doe but allure the mind.
When care consumes and wastes the wretched wight,
Whyle fancy feedes and drawes of her delight.
What life were loue, if loue were free from payne?
But O that paine with pleasure match should meete:
Why did the course of nature so ordayne,
That surged sowre must sauce the bitter sweete?
Which sowre from sweete might any meanes remoue,
What hap, what heauen, what life were like to loue:
FJNJS.
W. R.
13.
Who mindes to bring his Shippe to happie shore
Must care to know the lawes of wisedomes lore.
MY friend, if thou wilt credite me in ought,
To whom the truth by tryall well appeares:
Nought worth is wit til it be dearely bought,
There is no wisedome but in hoary heares.
Yet if I may of wisedome oft de
[...]ne,
As well as others haue of happinesse:
Then to my words my freend thy eare encline,
The thinges that make thee wise are these I gesse.
Feare God, and know thy selfe in each degree,
Be friend to all, familiar but to fewe:
To light of credite see thou neuer be,
For tryall ought in trust dooth treason shewe.
To others faultes cast not too much thy eye,
Accuse no man of guilt, amend thy owne:
Of medling much doth mischiefe ought arise,
And oft debate by tickle tongue is sowne.
What thing thou wilt haue hyd, to none declare,
In word or deede beware of had I wist:
So spend thy good that some thou euer spare,
For friendes like Haukes doo soare from emptie fist.
Cut out thy coate according to thy cloth,
Suspected persons see thou alwayes flee,
Beleeue not him that once hath broke his troth,
Nor yet of gift without desert be free.
Time quickly slips beware how thou it spend,
Of wanton youth repents a paynfull age:
Begin nothing without an eye to thend,
Nor bow thine eare from counsell of the sage.
If thou too farre let out thy fancie slip,
And witlesse will from reasons rule outstart:
Thy folly shall at length be made thy whip,
And sore the stripes of shame shall cause the smart;
To doe to much for old men is but lost,
Of friendship had to women comes like gayne,
Bestow not thou on Children to much cost,
For what thou doest for these, is all in vayne,
The old man or he can requite, he dies,
Vnconstant is the womans wauering minde,
Full soone the boy thy friendship will despise,
And him for loue, thou shalt vngratefull finde.
The aged man is like the barraine ground,
The woman like the reede that wagges with winde:
There may no trust in tender yeares he found,
And of the three, the boy is most vnkinde.
If thou haue found a faithfull friend in deede,
Beware thou lose not loue of such a one:
He shall sometime stand thee in better steede,
Then treasure great of gold or precious stone.
FJNJS.
Jasper Haywood.
14. Of the vnconstant stay of Fortunes giftes.
JF Fortune be thy stay, thy state is very tickle,
She beares a double face, disguised, false and fickle:
This day she seemes to smile, to morow will she frowne,
What now she sets aloft, anone she throweth downe:
Fly Fortunes slye deceytes, let Vertue be thy guide,
If that you doo intend in happy state to abide.
Vpon the setled rocke thy building surest standes,
Away it quickly weares, that resteth on the sandes:
Dame Vertue is the rocke, that yeeldes assured stay,
Dame Fortune is the sand, that skoureth soone away:
Choose that is certaine, let thing vncertaine passe,
Preferre the precious gold, before the brittle glasse.
Sly Fortune hath her slightes, she playes vpon the packe,
Looke whō she fauours most, at length she turnes to wrack:
[Page 6]But Vertue simply deales, she shuns deceitfull trayne,
Who is by Vertue raysed vp, shall neuer fall agayne:
Sticke fast to Vertue then, that giues assured trust,
And flye from Fortunes frekes, that euer proue vniust.
FJNJS.
F. K.
15. Promise is debt.
JN my accompt the promise that is vowed,
Among the good is holden such a debt:
As he is thought no whit to be allowed,
That setteth light his promise to forget.
And for my part I will not linke in loue,
With fickle folke whose fancies ought remoue.
My happy gaine I do esteeme for such,
As fewe haue found in these our doubtfull dayes:
To finde a freend I thinke it be as much,
As to win a fort full fraught of noble prayse.
Of all the goods that there may be possest,
A faithfull freend I iudge to be the best.
O freendly league although to late begun,
Yet time shall trie our troth as well imployed:
And that we both shall see that we haue won,
Such fastned faith as can not be destroyed.
By enuious rage or slaunders bitter blowe,
That alwayes seekes the good to ouerthrowe.
FJNJS.
R. Hill.
16. No wordes but deedes.
THE wrong is great, the payne aboue my power,
That yeeldes such care in doubtfull dens to drowne:
Such hap is hard where Fortune doth so lower,
As freendly looke is turnd to froward frowne.
[Page]Is this the trust that faithfull freendes can finde?
With those that yet haue promise broke?
By deedes in doubt, as though no wordes can binde,
A vowed freend to hold him to his yoke.
O faithlesse freend, what can assure your mind,
That doubtes so soone before you haue cause why?
To what hard hap doth Fortune here me bind,
When words nor deedes can no where satisfye.
What can I write? that hath not oft bine saide,
What haue I sayd? that hath not bine affyrmed:
What not approued? that ought to be assayed,
Or what is vowed? that shall not be perfourmed.
Cast of mistrust, in hast no credite giue,
To this or that, that breedeth freendes vnrest:
No doubt at all, but trust me if I liue,
My deedes shall proue, that all is for the best.
And this beleeue, the Sea shall cease to flowe,
The Sunne to shine within the fetled skye:
All thinges on earth shall leaue to spring and growe,
Yea euery Foule shall want his winges to flye.
Eare I in thought shall seeme once to retyre,
If you my freend remaine as I desyre:
Nowe lose no time, but vse that while you may,
Forget not this, a dogge shall haue a day.
FINIS.
R. D.
17. He desireth exchange of life.
THE day delayed, of that I most do wishe,
Wherewith I feede and starue in one degree:
With wish and want still serued in one dishe,
Aliue as dead, by proofe as you may see.
To whom of old this prouerbe wel it serues,
While grasse dooth grow, the selly horse he sterues.
Tweene these extreames thus doo I rome the race,
Of my poore life, this certainely I know:
Tweene would and want vnwarely that do passe,
More swift then shot out of Archers bow.
As Spider drawes her line all day,
I watch the net, and others haue the pray.
And as by proofe the greedy dogge doth gnawe,
The bared bone all onely for the taste:
So to and fro this lothsome life I draw,
With fancies forst and fed with vaine repast.
Narsissus brought vnto the water brinke,
So aye thirst I, the more that I do drinke.
Loe thus I dye, and yet I seeme not sicke,
With smart vnseene my selfe, my selfe I weare:
With prone desire and power that is not quicke,
With hope aloft now drenched in dispayre.
Trained in trust for no reward assignd,
The more I hast, the more I come behind.
With hurt to heale, in frozen yse to frie,
With losse to laugh, this is a wonderous case:
Fast fetred here, is forst away to flie,
As hunted Hare, that Hound hath in the chase.
With winges and spurres, for all the hast I make,
As like to lose, as for to draw the stake.
The dayes be long that hang vpon desert,
The life is irke of ioyes that be delayed:
The time is short for to requite the smart,
That dooth proceede of promise long vnpayed.
That to the last of this my fainting breath,
I wish exchange of life for happy death.
FJNJS.
L. Vaux.
18. Of the instabilitie of youth.
WHEN I looke backe and in my selfe behold,
The wandring wayes that youth could not descry:
And markt the fearful course that youth did hold,
And mette in mind, eache steppe youth strayed a wry.
My knees I bowe, and from my hart I call,
O Lord, forget these faultes and folies all.
For now I see, how voyde youth is of skill,
I see also his prime time and his end:
I doe confesse my faultes and all my ill,
And sorow sore, for that I did offend,
And with a mind repentant of all crimes,
Pardon I aske for youth, ten thousand times.
The humble hart, hath daunted the proud mind,
Eke wysedome hath giuen ignorance a fall:
And wit hath taught, that folly could not find,
And age hath youth, her subiect and her thrall.
Therfore I pray, O Lord of life and truth,
Pardon the faultes committed in my youth.
Thou that diddest graunt the wise king his request,
Thou that in the Whale, thy prophet didst preserue:
Thou that forgauest the wounding of thy brest,
Thou that didst saue the theefe in state to sterue.
Thou onely God, the giuer of all grace,
Wipe out of mind, the path of youthes vaine race.
Thou that by power, to life didst raise the dead.
Thou that restorest the blind to sight:
Thou that for loue, thy life and loue out bled,
Thou that of fauour, madest the lame goe right.
Thou that canst heale, and helpe in all assayes,
Forgiue the gilth, that grewe in youthes vaine wayes.
And now since I, with faith and doubtlesse mind,
Doo flye to thee by prayer to appease thy yre:
And since that thee I onely seeke to finde,
And hope by faith to attaine my iust desire.
Lord mind no more youthes error and vnskill,
And able age, to doo thy holy will.
FJNJS.
L. Vaux.
19.
Most happy is that state alone,
Where words and deedes agree in one.
BY paynted words, the silly simple man,
To trustlesse trap, is trayned now and than:
And by conceyt, of sweete alluring tale,
He bites the baits, that breedes his bitter bale.
To beawties blaze, cast not thy rouing eye:
In pleasant greeue, doo stinging serpents lye.
The golden Pill, hath but a bitter tast,
In glittering glasse, a poyson ranckest plaste.
So pleasant wordes, without performing deedes:
May well be deemed to spring of Darnel seedes,
The freendly deede is it, that quickly tryes:
Where trustie faith, and freendly meaning lyes.
That state therefore most happy seemes to be:
Where wordes and deedes, most faithfully agree.
My freend if thou wilt keepe thy honest name:
Fly from the blot, of barking slaunders blame.
Let not in word thy promise be more large:
Then thou in deede, art willing to discharge.
Abhorred is that false dissembling broode:
That seemes to beare two faces in one hoode.
To say a thing, and not to meane the same:
Wyll turne at length to losse of thy good name.
Wherefore my freend, let double dealing goe:
In stead whereof, let perfect playnenesse flowe.
[Page]Doo thou no more, in idle wordes exceede:
Then thou intendes to doe, in very deede.
So good report, shall spread thy worthy prayse:
For being iust in word and deede alwayes.
You worldly wightes that worldly dooers are:
Before you let your word slip out to farre,
Consider well, what inconuenience springes:
By breache of promise made, in lawfull thinges.
First, God mislikes where such deceit doth swarme:
Next, it redoundeth vnto thy neighbours harme.
And last of all, which is not least of all:
For such offence, thy conscience suffer shall.
As barren groundes, bringes forth but rotten weedes.
From barren words, so fruitlesse chaffe proceedes.
As sauery flowres, doo spring in fertil ground:
So trustie freendes, by triall soone are found.
To shunne therefore the woorst, that may ensue:
Let deedes alway, approue thy sayings true.
FJNJS.
F. K.
20.
Who will aspire to dignitie.
By learning must aduaunced be.
THe poore y
t liue in needy rate, by learning doo great riches gaine:
The rich y
t liue in welthy state, by learning do their welth maintaine.
Thus rich and poore, are furthered still,
By sacred rules of learned skill.
All fond conceites of franticke youth, y
e golden gift of learning stayes:
Of doubtfull things to search the truth, learning sets forth the reddy wayes.
O happy him doo I repute,
Whose brest it fraught with learning fruite.
There growes no corne w
tin the field, y
e Oxe & Plough did neuer tyll,
Right so y
e mind no fruite can yeeld, that is not lead by learnings skill.
Of ignoraunce comes rotten weedes,
Of learning springes right noble deedes.
Like as the Captaine hath respect, to traine his souldiours in aray:
So learning doth mās mind direct, by Vertues staffe his life to stay.
Though Freendes and Fortune waxeth skant,
Yet learned men shall neuer want.
You Impes therfore in youth be sure, to fraught your mindes w
t learned thinges,
For learning is the fountaine pure, out frō y
e which al glory springes.
Who so therefore will glory win,
With learning first must needes begin.
FINIS.
F. K.
21.
Mans flittyng life findes surest stay,
Where sacred Ʋertue bearteh sway.
THE sturdy Rocke for all his strength, by raging Seas is rent in twaine:
The Marble stone is pearst at length, with little drops of drisling raine.
The Oxe dooth yeeld vnto the yoke,
The Steele obeyeth the hammer stroke.
The stately Stagge y
t seemes so stout, by yalping hoūds at bay is set:
The swiftest bird y
t flees aboue, is caught at length in Fowlers net.
The greatest Fish in deepest Brooke,
Is soone deceiued with subtill hooke.
Yea man him selfe, vnto whose will, all thinges are bounden to obey:
For all his witte and worthy skill, doth fade at length and fal away,
There is nothing, but time doth wast,
The Heauens, the Earth, consume at last.
But Vertue sittes triumphing still, vpon y
e Trone of glorious Fame:
Though spitefull death mans body kill, yet hurts he not his vertuous name
By life or death, what so betides,
The state of Vertue, neuer slides.
FINIS.
M. T.
22. Nothing is comparable vnto a faithfull freend.
SIth this our time of Freendship is so skant,
Sith Freendship now in euery place doth want.
Sith euery man of Freendship is so hollowe,
As no man rightly knowes which way to followe.
Sease not my Muse, sease not in these our dayes,
To ring loude peales, of sacred Freendships prayse.
If men be now, their owne peculier freendes,
And to their neighbours freendship none pertendes.
If men of Freendship shewe them selues so bare,
And of their brethren take no Freendly care.
Forbeare not then my muse, nor feare not then,
To ring dispraise of these vnfreendly men.
Did man of Freendship know the mighty power?
How great effectes it worketh euery houre.
What store of hidden freendship it retaynes,
How still it powreth forth aboundant gaines.
Man would with thee my muse in these our dayes,
Ring out loude peales, of sacred Freendships prayse.
Freendship releeueth mans necessitie,
Freendship, comforteth mans aduersitie.
Freendship augmenteth mans prosperitie,
Freendship preferres man to felicitie.
Then ring my muse, ring out in these our dayes,
Ring out loude peales, of sacred freendships prayse.
Of Freendship, growes loue and charitie,
By Freendship, men are linked in amitie:
From Freendship springeth all commoditie,
The fruite of Freendship, is fidelitie.
Oh ring my muse, ring out in these our dayes,
Peale vpon peale, of sacred Freendships praise.
That man with man, true freendship may embrace,
That man to man, may shew a freendly face:
That euery man, may sowe such freendly seedes,
As freendship may be found in freendly deedes.
And ioyne with thee my Muse in these our dayes,
To ring loud peales of sacred Freendships prayse.
FJNJS.
F. K.
23. Remember thy ende.
TO be as wise as
Cato was, or rich as
Cresus in his life:
To haue y
e strēgth of
Hercules, which did subdue by force or strife.
What helpeth it when Death doth call,
The happy ende exceedeth all.
The rich may wel y
e poore releeue, y
e Rulers may redresse ech wrong:
The learned may good coūsel giue, but marke y
e end of this my song.
Who doth these thinges, happy they call,
Their happy ende exceedeth all.
The happiest end, in these our dayes, y
t al do seeke, both small & great:
Is either for Fame, or else for praise, or who may sit in highest seate.
But of these thinges, hap what hap shall.
The happy ende exceedeth all.
A good beginning ought we see, but seeldome standing at one stay:
For few do like y
e meane degree, their praise at parting some men say.
The thinges wherto each wight is thrall,
The happy ende exceedeth all.
The meane estate, that happy life, which liueth vnder gouernance:
Who seekes no hate, nor breedes no strife, but takes in worth his happy chance.
If contentation him befall,
His happy ende exceedeth all.
The longer life that we desire, the more offence doth dayly grow:
The greater paine it doth require, except y
e Iudge some mercy shew.
Wherfore I thinke and euer shall,
The happy ende exceedeth all.
FJNJS.
D. S.
24.
He perswadeth his freend,
from the fond Affectes of loue.
WHy art thou bound & maist go fre, shal reason yeld to raging will?
Is thraldom like to liberty? wilt thou exchange thy good for ill?
Then shalt thou learne a childish play, and of ech part to tash & proue:
The lookers on shal iudge and say, loe this is he that liues by loue.
Thy wits w
t thoughts, shal stand at stay, thy head shal haue but heauy rest.
Thy eies shal watch for wātō praies, thy tōgue shal shew thy harts request.
Thy eares shal here a M. noise, thy hād shal put thy pē to pain:
And in y
e end, thou shalt dispraise, thy life so spent, for such smal gaine.
If loue & list might euer cope, or youth might run in reasons race:
Or if strōg sute might win sure hope, I wold lesse blame a louers case
For loue is hot, w
t great desire, & sweete delight makes youth so fond,
That little sparks wil proue great fire, & bring free hartes to endlesse bond.
First coūt y
e care & then the cost, & marke what fraude in faith is foūd:
Thē after come & make thy bost, & shew some cause why thou art boūd
For when y
e wine doth run ful low, you shal be faine to drinke the lies:
And eate y
e flesh ful well I know, y
t hath ben blowne with many flies.
We see where great deuotion is, the people kneele & kisse the crosse:
And though we find smal fault of this, yet sōe wil gilld a bridles bosse.
A foole his bable will not change, not for the septer of a king,
A louers life is nothing strange, for youth delights none other thing.
FINIS.
Tho. Churchyard.
25. Wanting his desire he complayneth.
THe sailing ships w
t ioy at length, do touch their long desired port,
The hewing axe y
e Oke doth wast, y
e battring Canō breaks y
e fort.
Hard hagard haukes stope to y
e lure, wild colts in time y
e bridle tames:
There is nothing so out of vre, but to his kind long time it frames.
Yet this I find in time, no time can winne my sute,
Though oft the tree I climbe, I can not catch the fruite.
[Page 11]And yet the pleasant branches oft in yeelding wise to me do bow,
Whē I would touch they spring aloft, soone are they gone I wot not how
Thus I present y
e sleeting floode, like
Tantalus in hel below,
Would God my case she vnderstoode, which can full soone releeue my woe
Which if to her were knowen, the fruite were surely mine,
She would not let me grone, and brouse vpon the rine.
But if my ship w
t tackle torne, with rented sailes must needs retire.
And streame & wind hath plainly sworn, by force to hinder my desire,
Like one y
t strikes vpon y
e rocks, my weary wracke I shoulde bewayle
And learne to know false fortunes mookes, who smiles on me to small auaile.
Yet sith she onely can, my rented ship restore,
To helpe her wracked man, but once I seeke no more.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
26. Trye before you truste.
JN freendes are found a heape of doubts, that double dealing vse,
A swarme of such I could find out, whose craft I can accuse:
A face for loue, a hart for hate, these faigned freendes can beare,
A tongue for troth, a head for wyles, to hurt each simple eare.
In humble port, is poyson pact, that plainenesse can not spie.
Which credites all, and can not see, where stinging serpents lye.
Through hastie trust, the harmelesse heart, is easely hampred in,
And made beleeue it is good gold, when it is lead and tin.
The first deceit that bleares myne eyes, is faigned faith profest,
The second trappe is grating talke, that gripes each strangers brest.
The third deceite is greeting wordes, with colours painted out,
Which bids suspect to feare no smart, nor dread no dangerous doubt.
The fourth, and last is long repaire, which creepes in freendships lap,
And dayly hauntes, that vnder trust, deuiseth many a trap.
Loe how false freendes can frame a fetch, to win the wil with wils,
To sauce their slightes with sugred sops, & shadow harme w
t smiles.
To serue their lustes, are sundry sorts, by practise diuers kindes,
Some carries honnie in their mouthes, and venime in their mindes.
Mee thinkes the stones within the streetes, should cry out in this case,
And euery one that doth them meete, should shunne their double face.
FJNJS.
D. S.
27. A Lady forsaken complayneth.
JF pleasures be in painfulnes? in pleasures doth my body rest,
If ioyes accord with carefulnes? a ioyful hart is in my brest:
If prison strong is libertie? in libertie long haue I bene,
If ioyes accord with miserie? who can compare a life to mine.
Who can vnbind y
t is sore bound? who can make free y
t is sore thrall,
Or how can any meanes be found to comfort such a wretch withall.
None can, but he y
t hath my hart, conuert my paynes to comfort then.
Yet since his seruant I became, most like a bondman haue I beene:
Since first in bondage I became, my words & deedes were euer such,
That neuer once he could me blame, except frō louing him too much.
Which I can iudge no iust offence, nor cause that I deserue disdayne,
Except he mean through false pretēce, through forged loue to make a train.
nay, nay, alas, my fained thoughts, my frēded & my fained ruth
My pleasures past my present plaints, shew wel I mean but to much truth.
But since I can not him attain, against my wil I let him goe.
And least he glory at my paine, I will attempt to cloke my woe.
Youth, learn by me, but do not proue, for I haue proued to my paine,
What grieuous griefs do grow by loue, & what it is to loue in vaine.
FJNJS.
M. D.
28. Finding worldly ioyes but vanities, he wisheth death.
FOrlorne in filthy froward fate, wherein a thousand cares I find,
By whom I do lament my state, annoyd with fond afflicted mind:
A wretch in woe, and dare not cry,
I liue, and yet I wish to die.
The day in dole, that semeth long, I pas with sighes & heauy cheere.
And w
t these eyes I vewe the wrong, that I sustaine by liuing here:
Where my mishaps as rife doo dwell,
As plagues within the pit of hell.
A wailing wight I walk alone, in desart dennes there to complaine,
Among the sauage sort to mone, I flee my freends wher they remain:
And pleasure take to shun the sight,
Where erst I felt my great delight,
[Page 12]A captiue clapt in chaynes of care, lapt in the lawes of lethal loue,
My flesh and bones consumed bare, w
t crauling greefes full strange to proue:
Though hap doth bid me hope at least,
Whyles grasse doth grow, yet statues the beast.
A seeged fort with forrain force, for want of aide, must yeeld at last,
So must my weried pined corse, submit it selfe to bitter tast:
Of crauling care, that carkes my brest,
Till hope or death, shall breede my rest.
FJNJS.
F. M.
29. A replie to M. Edwards MAY.
J Read a maying rime of late delighted much my eare,
It may delight as many moe, as it shall reade or heare.
To see how there is shewed, how May is much of price,
And eke to May when that you may, euen so is his aduice.
It seemes he meant to may himselfe, and so to vse his skill,
For that the time did serue so well, in May to haue his will.
His onely May was ease of mind, so farre as I can gesse,
And that his may his mind did please, a man can iudge no lesse.
And as himselfe did reape the fruites, of that his pleasant May,
He wils his freende the same to vse, in time when as he may.
He is not for him selfe it seemes, but wisheth well to all,
For that he would they should, take May in time when it doth fall.
So vse your May, you may, it can not hurtfull be,
And May well vsed in time and place, may make you mery gle:
Modest maying meetest is, of this you may be sure,
A modest maying quietnes, to Mayers doth procure.
Who may and will not take, may wish he had so done,
Who may and it doth take, may thinke he tooke too sone.
So ioyne your May with wisedomes lore, and then you may be sure,
Who makes his May in other sort, his vnrest may procure.
Some May before May come, some May when May is past,
Some make their May to late, and some doe May posthast.
Let wisedome rule I say your May, and thus I make an ende,
And May, that when you list to May, a good May God you sende.
FJNJS.
M. S.
30. Hauing marryed a worthy Lady, and taken away by death, he complayneth his mishap.
JN youth when I at large did lead, my life in lusty libertie,
When heuy thoughts no one did spread, to let my pleasant fantasy:
No fortune seemd, so hard could fall,
This freedome then, that might make thrall.
And twenty yeeres I scarse had spent, whē to make ful my happy fate
Both treasures great were on me cast, with lands & titles of estate:
So as more blest their I, stoode than,
Eke as me thought was neuer man.
For of Dame Fortune who is he, could more desire by iust request,
Then health, with wealth, and liberty, al which at once I this possest:
But masking in this ioly ioy,
A soden sight, prooud al a toy.
For passing on these mery dayes, w
t new deuice of pleasures great,
And now and their to view y
e rayes of beauties works w
t cunning feat:
In heauenly hewes, all which as one,
I oft behelde, but bound to none.
And one day rowling thus my eyes, vpon these blessed wights at ease,
Amongst y
e rest one did I se, who straight my wādring lokes did sease:
And stayed them firme, but such a sight,
Of beautie yet saw neuer wight.
What shal I seke to praise it more, wher tōgs cānot wel praise y
e same
But to be short to louers lore, I straight my sences all did frame:
And were it wit, or were it chaunce,
I wonne the Garland in this daunce.
And thus where I before had thought, no hap my fortune might encrease,
A double blis this chāce forth brought, so did my ladies loue me please
Her faith so firme, and constant such,
As neuer hart, can praise too much.
But now with tormēts strange I tast, y
e fickle stay of fortunes wheele
And where shee raised from high to cast, with greater force of griefe to feele:
For from this hap of soden frowne,
Of Princes face she threw me downe.
[Page 13]And thus exchange now hath it made, by liberty a thing most deare,
In hatefull prison for to fade, where sundred from my louing feare,
My wealth and health, stands at like stay,
Obscurely to consume away.
And last when humane force was none, could part our loue wherin we liued,
My ladies life alas is gon, most cruel death hath it bereued:
Whose vertues, her, to God, hath wonne,
And left me here, a man vndone.
FINIS.
F. G.
31. A worthy ditie, song before the Queenes Maiestie at Bristowe.
MIstrust not troth, that truely meanes, for euery ielous freke,
Instead of wrōg, cōdemne not right, no hiddē wrath to wreke:
Looke on the light of fault lesse life, how bright her vertues shine,
And measure out her steppes each one, by leuel and by line.
Deeme eche desert by vpright gesse, wherby your praise shall liue,
If malice would be match with might, let hate no iudgement giue.
Enforce no feare with wresting wittes, in quiet conscience brest.
Lend not your eares to busie tongues, which breedeth much vnrest.
In doubtfull drifts wade not to farre, it weries but the mind,
Seeke not to search the secret harts, whose thoughts are hard to find:
Auoide from you those hateful heads, that helpes to heape mishap,
Be slow to heare the flatterers voice, that creepeth in your lap.
Embrace their loue that wills you good, and sport not at their praise,
Trust not too much vnto your selfe, for feeble are your stayes:
How can your seate be setled faste, or stand on stedfast ground,
So propped vp with hollow harts, whose surety is vnsound.
Giue faith to those that feare for loue, and not that loue for feare,
Regard not them that force compels, to please you euery where:
All this well waid and borne away, shall stablish long your state,
Continually with perfect peace, in spite of puffing hate.
FINIS.
D. S.
32. An Epitaph vpon the death of Sir Edward Saunders. Knight, Lord chiefe Baron of the Exchequer.
YOu Muses weare your mourning weeds, strike on y
e fatal Drome,
Sound
Triton out the trumpe of fame, in spite of
Parcas dome.
Distill
Parnassus pleasant drops, possesse
Pierides place,
Apollo helpe with dolefull tune, to waile this wofull case.
Wring hard your hands, waile on your losse, lament the fate that fell,
With sobs and sighes to
Saunders say, oh
Saunders now farewell,
Whom
Phaebus fed with
Pallas pappe, as one of
Sibils seede,
Loe here where death did rest his corps, the vermine foule to feede.
Whom Impes of
Joue with
Necter sweete, long in
Libethres noursht,
Behold how dreadful death him brought, to y
t whence he came first.
Lycurgus he for learned lawes,
Rhadamanthus race that ranne,
An other
Nestor for aduise,
Zalucus fame that wanne.
A
Damon deare vnto his freend, in faith like
Phocion found,
A
Cato that could counsell giue, to prince a subiect found.
Not
Athens for their
Solon sage, not
Rome for
Numa waile,
As we for
Saunders death haue cause, in fods of teares to saile.
Nor
Sparta card for
Chilos death, ne proud
Prienua prest,
To weepe for
Bias as we wayle, for
Saunders late possest.
His learned pathes his talentes rare, so now by death appeares,
As he that
Salomon sought to serue, in prime and youthfull yeeres,
His counsel sad, his rules, his lawes, in country soyle so wrought,
As though in
Cuma he had ben, of sage
Sibilla taught.
His vertuous life was such I say, as Vertue did embrace,
By Vertue taught in Vertues schoole, to grow in vertues race.
Might tender babes, might orphāts weak, might widows rere y
t cry,
The sound thereof should pearce the cloudes, to skale y
e empire sky.
To bid the gods to battel bend, and to dissend in sight,
Though farre vnfit, and mates vnmeete, with mortal men to fight.
Too late (alas) we wish his life, to soone deceiued vs Death.
Too little wit we haue to seeke, the dead agayne to breath.
What helplesse is, must carelesse be, as Natures course doth shewe,
For death shal reape what life hath sowen, by nature this we know.
What is become of
Priamus state, where is
Periander proude:
Hector, Hanno, Hanibal, dead,
Pompei, Pirrhus spild,
Scipio, Cirus, Caesar, slaine, and
Alexander kild.
So long there Fortune fast did floe, and charged Fame to sound,
Till frowning Fortune foyld by face, which fawning fortune found:
Shun Fortunes feates, shake fortune of to none is fortune sound,
Sith none may say of Fortune so, I Fortune faithfull found.
Beholde where Fortune flowed so fast, and fauoured Saunders lure,
Tiliffckle Fortune false again did Saunders death procure.
Lo clothed could in cloddes of clay, in drossy dust remaine,
By fate returnd frō whence he came, to his mothers wombe againe.
Who welnigh thirtie yeeres was Iudge, before a Iudge dyd fall,
And iudged by that mighty Iudge, which Iudge shall iudge vs all.
The heauens may of right reioyce, and earth may it bewayle,
Sith heauen wan, and earth hath lost, the guide and arke of vaile.
There gaine is much, our losse is great, their mirth our mone is such,
That they may laugh as cause doo yeeld, & we may weepe as much:
O happy he, vnhappy we, his hap doth aye encrease,
Happy he, and haplesse we, his hap shall neuer cease.
We liue to die, he dyed to liue, we want, and he possest,
We bide in bands, he bathes in blisse, the Gods aboue him blest.
Being borne to liue, he liued to dye, and dyed to God so plaine,
That birth, that life, that death, doo shew, that he shall liue againe:
His youth to age, his age to death, his death to fame applied,
His fame to time, his time to God, thus Saunders liued and dyed.
O happy life, O happier death, O tenne times happy he,
Whose hap it was, such hap to haue, a Iudge this age to be.
Oh ioyfull time, oh blessed soyle, where
Pallas rules with witte,
O noble state, O sacred seate, where
Saba sage dooth sitte.
Like
Susan sound, like
Sara sad, with
Hesters mace in hand,
With
Judiths sword
Bellona like, to rule this noble land.
I had my will, you haue your wish, I laugh, reioyce you may,
I wan now much, you gaine no lesse, to see this happy day.
Wherein I dyed, wherein you liue, Oh treble happy cost,
Wherein I ioyed in glory great, wherein you triumph most.
[Page]Knele on your knes, knock hard your brests, soūd forth y
e ioyful drome
Clap loude your handes, sound Eccho say, the golden world is come.
Reioyce you Iudges may of right, your mirth may now be such,
As neuer earst you Iudges had, in England mirth so much.
Here
Cuma is, here
Sibill raignes, on
Delphos seate to sitte,
Here shee like
Phaebus rules, that can
Gordius knot vnknitte.
I liued to nature long ynough, I liued to honour much,
I liued at wish, I died at will, to see my country such.
As neither needes it
Numas lawes, nor yet
Apollos sweard,
For Mauger Mars, yet Mars shalbe of this our Queene afeard.
O peerlesse pearle, O Diamōd deer, O Queene of Queenes farwell,
Your royall maiestie God preserue in England long to dwell.
Farwell the
Phaenix of the world, farwel my soueraigne Queene,
Farwel most noble vertuous prince,
Mineruas mate I weene.
No Iuel, Gemme, no Gold to giue, no pearles from
Pactolos lo,
No Persian Gaze, no Indian stones, no Tagus sandes to show.
But faith and will to natiue soyle a liue and dead I finde,
My hart my mind, my loue I leaue vnto my prince behinde.
Farwel you nobles of this land, farwel you Iudges graue,
Farwel my felowes, frends & mates, your Queene I say God saue.
What rise in time, in time doth fall, what floweth in time doth ebbe,
What liues in time, in time shall dye, and yeelde to
Parcus webbe.
The sunne to darknes shalbe turnd, the starres from skies shall fall,
The Moone to blood, the world with fire shalbe consumed all.
As smoke or vapour vanish streight, as bubbles rise and fall,
As cloudes do passe or shadow shiftes we liue, we dye so all.
Our pompe our pride, our triumph most, our glory great herein,
Like shattering shadow passe away, as though none such had bin.
Earth, water, ayre, and fire, as they were earst before,
A lumpe confused, and
Chaos calld, so shall they once be more.
And all to earth, that came from earth, and to the graue descend,
For earth on earth, to earth shall goe, and earth shall be the end.
As Christ ascended vp in clowdes, so Christ in clowdes shall come,
To iudge both good and bad on earth, at dreadful day of dome.
From whence our flesh shall rise againe, euen from the drossy dust,
And so shall passe I hope, vnto the mansion of the iust.
FINIS.
Lodowick LLoyd.
33. His good name being blemished, he bewayleth.
FRamd in the front of forlorne hope, past all recouery.
I stayles stand tabide the shocke of shame and infamy.
My life through lingring long is lodgde, in lare of lothsome wayes,
My death delayd to keepe from life, the harme of haplesse dayes:
My sprites, my hart, my witte and force, in deepe destresse are dround,
The onely losse of my good name, is of these greefes the ground.
And since my mind, my wit, my head, my voyce, & tongue are weake:
To vtter, mooue, deuise, conceiue, sound forth, declare, and speake:
Such pearsing plaints, as aunswere might, or would my wofull case,
Helpe craue I must, and craue I will, with teares vpon my face:
Of all that may in heauen or hell, in earth or ayre be found,
To waile with me this losse of mine, as of these greefes the ground.
Helpe gods, helpe saints, helpe sprits & powers, y
t in y
e heauē do dwell,
Helpe ye that are aye woont to waile, ye howling houndes of hell:
Helpe man, helpe beasts, helpe birds, & wormes, y
t on y
e earth doth toile
Helpe fishe, helpe foule, that flockes and feedes vpon the salt sea soyle.
Helpe Eccho that in ayre doth flee, shril voyces to resound,
To waile this losse of my good name, as of these greefes the ground.
FJNJS.
E. O.
34. Of Fortunes power.
POlicrates whose passing hap, causd him to lose his fate,
A golden ring cast in the seas to change his constant state,
And in a fish yet at his bourd, the same he after found,
Thus Fortune loe, to whom she takes, for bountie doth abound.
The myzers vnto might she mounts, a common case we see,
And mighty to great misery, she sets in low degree:
Whom she to day doth reare on hie, vpon her whirling wheele,
Tomorrow next shee dingeth downe, and casteth at her heele.
No measure hath shee in her giftes, she doth reward eche sort,
The wise that counsell haue, no more, then fooles that maketh sport.
She vseth neuer partiall handes, for to offend or please,
Geue me good Fortune al men sayes, and throw me in the seas.
It is no fault or worthines, that makes men fall or rise,
I rather be borne Fortunate, then to be very wise.
The blindest man right soone, that by good Fortune guided is,
To whom that pleasant Fortune pipes, can neuer daunce amis,
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
36
Though triumph after bloudy wars, the greatest brags do beare.
Yet triumph of a conquered mind, the crowne of fame shall weare.
VVHo so doth marke the carelesse life, of these vnhappy dayes,
And sees what smal and slender hold, the state of vertue stayes:
He findes, that this accursed trade, proceedeth of this ill,
That men be giuen too much to yeeld, to their vntamed will.
In lacke of taming witlesse will, the poore we often see,
Enuies the rich, because that he, his equal cannot be:
The rich aduaunced to might by wealth, frō wrong doth not refraine,
But will oppresseth weaker sort, to heape excessiue gaine.
If Fortune were so blind to giue to one man what he will,
A world would not suffice the same, if he might haue his fill:
We wish, we search, we striue for all, and haue no more therein,
Then hath y
e slaue, when deth doth come, though
Cresus welth he win.
In getting much, we get but care, such brittle wealth to keepe,
The rich within his walles of stone, doth neuer soundly sleepe:
When poore in weake and slender house, do feare no losse of wealth,
And haue no further care but this, to keepe themselues in health.
Affection may not hide the sword of sway in iudgement seate,
Least partiall fauour execute, the law in causes greate:
[Page 16]But if the mind in constant state, affection quite do leaue,
The higher state shal haue their rights, the poore no wrong receiue.
It is accompted greater praise to
Caesars loftie state,
Against his vanquist foes, in warres to bridle wrekefull hate:
Then when to
Rome he had subdued the people long vnknowne,
Whereby as farre as land was found, the same abrode was blowne.
If honor can selfe will refuse, and iustice be vpright.
And priuate state desires but that, which good appeares in sight:
Then vertue shall with soueraigne show, to euery eye reueale,
An heauenly life, a wealefull state, a happy common weale.
Let vertue then the triumph win, and gouern all your deedes,
Your yeelding to her sober heastes, immortall glory breedes:
She shall vpreare your worthy name, shining into the skies,
Her beames shall blaze in graue obscure, where shrined carkasse lyes.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
37. Of perfect wisedome.
VVHo so wil be accompted wise, and truely claime the same,
By ioyning vertue to his deedes, he must atchieue the same:
But few there be, that seeke thereby true wisedome to attaine,
O God so rule our harts therfore, such fondnesse to refraine.
The wisedome which we most esteeme, in this thing doth consist,
With glorious talke to shew in words, our wisedome when we list.
Yet not in talke, but seemely deedes, our wisedome we should place,
To speake so faire, and doe but ill, doth wisedome quite disgrace.
To bargaine well, and shunne the losse, a wisedome counted is,
And thereby through the greedy coyne, no hope of grace to mis:
To seeke by honor to aduaunce his name to brittle praise,
Is wisedome, which we dayly see, increaseth in our dayes.
But heauenly wisedome sower seemes to hard for them to win,
And weary of the sute they seeme, when they do once begin:
It teacheth vs to frame our life, while vitall breath we haue,
When it dissalueth earthly masse, the soule from death to saue.
By feare of God to rule our steppes, from sliding into vice,
A wisedome is, which we neglect, although of greater price:
A poynt of wisedome also this, we commonly esteeme,
That euery man should be in deede, that he desires to seeme.
To bridle that desire of gaine, which forceth vs to ill,
Our hauty stomackes Lord represse, to tame presuming will:
This is the wisedome that we should, aboue each thing desire,
O heauenly God from sacred throne, that grace in vs inspire.
And print in our repugnant harts, the rules of wisedome true,
That all our deedes in worldly life, may like therof insue:
Thou onely art the liuing spring, from whom this wisedome flowes,
O wash therwith our sinful hartes, from vice that therin growes.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
38. A freendly admonition.
YE stately wightes, that liue in quiet rest,
Through worldly wealth, which God hath giuen you.
Lament with teares and sighes from dolefull breast:
The shame and power that vice obtaineth now.
Behold how God doth dayly profer grace,
Yet we disdaine repentance to embrace.
The suddes of sinne do soke into the minde,
And cancred vice doth vertue quite expell:
No change to good alas can resting finde,
Our wicked hartes so stoutly do rebell.
Not one there is that hasteth to amend,
Though God from heauen his dayly threats downe send.
We are so slow to change our blamefull life,
We are so prest to snatch aluring vice:
Such greedy hartes on euery side be rife,
So few that guide their will by counsell wise,
To let our teares lament the wretched case,
And call to God for vndeserued grace.
You worldly wightes, that haue your fancies fixt,
On slipper ioy of terraine pleasure here:
Let some remorse in all your deedes be mixt,
Whiles you haue time let some redresse appeare.
Of sodaine death the houre you shall not know,
And looke for Death although it seemeth slow.
Oh be no iudge in other mens offence,
But purge thy selfe and seeke to make thee free,
Let euery one apply his diligence,
A change to good within him selfe to see.
O God direct our feete in such a stay,
From cancred vice to shun the hatefull way.
FINIS.
R. Hill.
39. Sundry men sundry affectes.
JN euery wight some sundry sort of pleasure I do finde,
Which after he doth seeke to ease his toyling minde.
Diana with her trayning chase, of hunting had delight,
Against the fearful Deare, she could direct her shotte aright.
The loftie yeeres in euery age, doth still embrace the same,
The sport is good, if vertue doo assist the cheerefull game.
Minerua in her chattering armes her courage doth aduaunce,
In triall of the bloudy wars, she giueth luckie chaunce.
For sauegard men imbrace the same, which do so needfull seeme.
That noble hartes their cheefe delightes in vse thereof esteeme,
In warlike games to trie or ryde the force of armes they vse,
And base the man we do account that doth the same refuse.
The siluer sound of musickes cordes, doth please
Apollos wit,
A sentence which the heauens aduaunce, where it deserues to sit,
A pleasure apt for euery wight, releefe to carefull minde,
For woe redresse, for care a salue, for sadnes helpe we finde.
The soueraigne praise of Musicke stil, doth cause the Poets faine.
That whirling Spheres, and eake the heauens do hermonie retaine.
I hard, that these three powers, at variance lately fel,
Whiles each did praise his owne delight, the other to excel.
Then Fame, as an indifferent iudge, to end the case they call,
The praise pronounced by her to them, indifferently doth fall.
Diana health and strength maintaine,
Minerua force doth tame,
And Musicke giues a sweete delight, to further others game.
These three delightes to hawtre mindes the worthiest are esteemed,
If vertue be annexed to them, they rightly be so deemed.
With ioy they do reuiue the witte with sorow oft opprest,
And neuer suffer solempne greefe to long in mind to rest.
Be wise in mirth, and seeke delight, the same doe not abuse,
In honest mirth a happy ioy we ought not to refuse.
FJNJS.
R. Hill.
40. Of a Freend and a Flatterer.
A Trustie freend is rare to finde, a fawning foe may sone be got:
A faithful frend bere stil in mind, but fawning foe regard thou not
A faithfull freend no cloke doth craue, to colour knauery withal:
But
Sicophant a Gun must haue, to beare a port what ere befall.
A nose to smel out euery feast, a brasen face to set it out:
A shamles child or homely gest, whose life doth like to range about.
A fauning foe while wealth doth last, a thefe to rob & spoile his freend:
As strong as oke while wealth doth last, but rotten sticke doth proue in the end.
Looke first, then leape, beware the mire:
Burnt Child is warnd to dread the fire.
Take heede my freend, remember this,
Short horse (they say) soone curried is.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
41. Of sufferaunce commeth case.
TO seeme for to reuenge each wrong in hasty wise,
By proofe of guiltlesse men, it hath not bene the guise.
In slaunders lothsome brute, where they condemned be,
with ragelesse moode they suffer wrong, where truth shal try thē free.
These are the patient pangues, that passe within the brest,
Of those, y
t feele their cause by mine, where wrong hath right opprest.
I know how by suspect, I haue bene iudgd awry,
And graunted gilty in the thing, that clerely I deny.
My faith may me defend, if I might loued be,
God iudge me so, as from the guilt I know me to be free.
I wrote but for my selfe, the griefe was all mine owne.
As, who would proue extremitie, by proofe it might be knowne.
Yet are there such, that say they can my meaning deeme,
Without respect of this old troth, things proue not as they seeme.
Whereby it may befall, in iudgement to be quicke,
To make themselues suspect therewith, that needed not to kicke.
Yet in resisting wrong, I would not haue it thought,
I do amisse, as though I knew by whom it might be wrought.
If any such there be, that herewithall be vext,
It were their vertue to beware, and deeme me better next.
L. Ʋaux.
43. All thinges are Vaine:
ALthough the purple morning, brags in brightnes of the sunne,
As though he had of chased night, a glorious conquest wonne:
The time by day, giues place againe to force of drowsie night,
And euery creature is constrained to change his lustie plight.
Of pleasures all, that here we taste:
We feele the contrary at laste.
In spring, though pleasant
Zephirus, hath fruitefull earth inspired,
And neuer hath ech bush, ech branch, with blossomes braue attired:
Yet fruites and flowers, as buds and blomes ful quickly withered be,
When stormie winter comes to kill, the sommers iolitie.
By time are got, by time are lost,
All thinges wherin we pleasure most.
[Page]Although the Seas so calmely glide, as daungers none appeare,
And doubt of stormes, in skie is none, king
Phaebus shines so cleare:
Yet when the boisterous windes breake out, & raging waues do swel,
The seely barke now heaues to heauen, now sinckes againe to hel.
Thus change in euery thing we see,
And nothing constant seemes to be.
Who floweth most in worldly wealth of wealth is most vnsure,
And he that cheefely tastes of ioy, doth sometime woe endure?
Who vaunteth most of numbred freendes, forgoe them al he must,
The fairest flesh and liuelest bloud, is turnd at length to dust.
Experience giues a certen ground,
That certen here, is nothing found.
Then trust to that which aye remaines, the blisse of heauens aboue,
Which Time, nor Fate, nor Wind, nor Storme, is able to remoue.
Trust to that sure celestiall rocke, that restes in glorious throne,
That hath bene, is, and must be still, our anker hold alone.
The world is but a vanitie,
In heauen seeke we our suretie.
FINIS.
F. K.
44. A Ʋertuous Gentlewoman in the praise of hir loue.
J Am a Virgin faire and free, and freely doe reioyce,
I sweetely warble sugred notes, from siluer voyce:
For which delightfull ioyes, yet thanke I curtesie loue,
By whose almighty power, such sweete delights I proue.
I walke the pleasant fieldes, adornd with liuely greene,
And view the fragrant flowers, most louely to be seene:
The purple Columbine, the Couslippe and the Lillie,
The Violet sweete, the Daizie and Daffadillie,
The Woodbines on the hedge, the red Rose & the white,
And eche fine flowres els, that rendreth sweete delight:
Among the which I choose, all those of seemeliest grace,
In thought, resembling them to my deare louers face.
His louely face I meane, whose golden flouring giftes,
His euer liuing Fame, to loftie skie vpliftes:
Whom louing me I loue, onely for vertues sake,
When vertuously to loue, all onely care I take.
Of al which fresh faire flowres, y
e flower y
t doth appeare,
In my conceit most like to him I hold so deare:
I gather it, I kisse it, and eke deuise with it,
Such kind of louely speach, as is for louers fit.
And then of all my flowres, I make a garland fine,
With which my golden wyer heares, togither I do twine:
And sette it on my head, so taking that delight,
That I would take, had I my louer still in sight.
For as in goodly flowres, mine eyes great pleasure finde,
So are my louers giftes most pleasant to my minde:
Vpon which vertuous giftes, I make more sweete repast,
Then they that for loue sportes, the sweetest ioyes do tast.
FJNJS.
F. K.
45. Oppressed with sorrow he wisheth death.
JF Fortune may enforce, the carefull hart to cry,
And griping griefe constraine, the wounded wight lament:
Who then alas to mourne, hath greater cause then I,
Against whose hard mishap, both Heauen and earth is bent.
For whom no helpe remaines, for whom no hope is left,
From whom all happy hap is fled, and pleasure quite bereft,
Whose life naught can prolong, whose health, naught can procure.
Whose passed proofe of pleasant ioy,
Mischaunce hath chaunged to griefes anoy:
And loe, whose hope of better day,
Is ouer whelmd with long delay.
Oh hard mishap.
Ech thing I plainly see, whose vertues may auaile,
To ease the pinching paine, which gripes the groning wight:
By Phisicks sacred skill, whose rule doth seldome faile,
Through labours long inspect, is plainly brought to light.
I know, there is no fruite, no leafe, no roote, no rind,
No hearbe, no plant, no iuyce, no gumme, no metal deepely mind:
No Pearle, no precious stone, ne Iemme of rare effect,
Whose vertues, learned
Gallens bookes, at large do not detect.
Yet all their force can not appease,
The furious fittes of my disease:
For any drugge of phisickes art,
Can ease the greefe that gripes my hart.
Oh strange disease.
I heare the wise affirme, that Nature hath in store,
A thousand secrete salues, which Wisedome hath out found:
To coole the scorching heate of euery smarting sore,
And healeth deepest scarce, though greeuous be the wound.
The auncient prouerbe sayes, that none so festred greefe,
Doth grow, for which y
e gods themselues, haue not ordayned releefe.
But I by proofe do know, such prouerbes to be vaine,
And thinke that nature neuer knew the plague that I sustaine.
And so not knowing my distresse,
Hath left my greefe remedilesse,
For why, the heauens for me prepare,
To liue in thought, and dye in care.
Oh lasting paine.
By chaunge of ayre I see, by hant of healthfull soyle,
By diet duely kept, grose humors are expeld:
I know that greefes of mind, and inwarde hartes turmoyle,
By faithfull freendes aduise, in time may be repeld.
Yet all this naught auailes, to kill that me anoyes,
I meane to stop these flouds of care that ouerflow my ioyes.
No none exchange of place, can change my lucklesse lot,
Like one I liue, and so must die, whom Fortune hath forgot.
No counsell can preuaile with mee,
Nor sage aduise with greefe agree:
[Page 17]For he that feeles the panges of hell,
Can neuer hope in heauen to dwell.
Oh deepe despaire.
What liues on earth but I, whose trauaile reapes no gaine,
The wearied Horse and Oxe, install and stable rest:
The Ante with sommers toyle beares out the winters paine,
The fowle that flyes all day, at night returnes to rest.
The Ploughmans weary worke, amid the winters mire,
Rewarded is with sommers gaine, which yeeldes him double hire:
The silly labouring soule, which drudges from day to day,
At night his wages truely payd, contented goth his way.
And comming home, his drowsie head,
He cowcheth close in homely bed:
Wherein no sooner downe he lyes,
But sleepe hath straight possest his eyes.
Oh happy man.
The Souldier biding long the brunt of mortall warres,
Where life is neuer free, from dint of deadly foyle:
At last comes ioyfull home, though mangled all with scarres,
Where frankly, voyde of feare, he spends the gotten spoyle.
The Pirate lying long, amid the foming floods,
With euery flaw in hazard is to loose both life and goods:
At length findes view of land, where wished Porte he spies,
Which once obtained, among his mates, he partes the gotten prise,
Thus euery man, from trauaile past,
Doth reape a iust reward at last:
But I alone, whose troubled minde,
In seeking rest, vnrest doth finde.
Oh lucklesse lotte.
Oh cursed caitife wretch, whose heauy hard mishappe,
Doth wish ten thousand times, that thou hadst not ben borne:
Since fate hath thee condemned, to liue in sorrowes lappe,
Where waylings waste thy life, of all redresse forlorne.
What shall thy griefe appease: who shall thy torment stay?
Wilt thou thy selfe, with murthering hands, enforce thy owne decay?
No, farre be thou from me, my selfe to stoppe my breath,
The gods forbid, whom I beseech, to worke my ioyes by death.
[Page]For lingring length of lothsome life,
Doth stirre in me such mortall strife:
That whiles for life and death I cry,
In death I liue, and liuing dye.
Oh froward fate.
Loe here my hard mishap, loe here my strange disease,
Loe here my deepe dispaire, loe here my lasting paine,
Loe here my froward fate, which nothing can appease.
Loe here how others toyle, rewarded is with gaine.
While lucklesse, loe I liue, in losse of labours due,
Compeld by proofe of torment strong, my endlesse griefe to rue:
In which, since needes I must, consume both youth and age,
If olde I liue, and that my care no comfort can asswage.
Henceforth I banishe from my brest,
All frustrate hope of future rest:
And truthlesse trust to times reward,
With all respectes of ioyes regard.
Here I forsweare.
47.
Where reason makes request, there wisedome ought supply,
With freendly aunswere prest, to graunt or els deny.
J Sigh, why so? for sorrow of her smart,
I morne, wherfore? for griefe that she complaines:
I pitie, what? her oppressed hart,
I dread what harme? the daunger she sustaines.
I greeue, whereat? at her oppressing paines.
I feele, what force the fittes of her disease,
Whose harme doth me and her, alike displease.
I hope, what happe? her happy healthes retyre,
I wish, what wealth? no wealth, nor worldly store:
But craue, what craft? by cunning to aspire,
Some skill, whereto? to salue her sickly sore.
What then? why then would I her health restore,
Whose harme me hurtes, how so? so workes my will,
To wish my selfe and her, like good and yll.
What moues thy mind, whereto? to such desire,
Ne force, ne fauour, what then? free fancies choyse:
Art thou to chose? my charter to require,
Eche Ladyes loue is feed by customes voyce,
Yet are there grauntes, the euidence of their choyse.
What then, our freedome is at large in choosing,
As womens wils are froward in refusing,
Wotes shee thy wil? she knowes what I protest,
Daynde shee thy sute? she daungerd not my talke:
Gaue shee consent? she graunted my request,
What didst thou craue? the roote, the fruite, the stalke,
I asked them all, what gaue shee, Cheese, or chalke?
That tast must try, what tast? I meane the proofe,
Of freendes, whose wils withhold there bowe aloofe.
Meanst thou good faith? what els, hopest thou to speede?
Why not, O foole vntaught in carpell trade,
Knowest not what proofes from such delayes proceede,
Wilt thou like headlesse Cocke be caught in glade?
Art thou like asse, too apt for burden made?
Fy, fy, wilt thou for faint adore the shrine?
And woo her freend, eare she be wholy thine;
Who drewe this drift? moued she, or thou this match?
Twas I: oh foole vnware of womens wyles,
Long maist thou waite, like hungry hounde at hatch,
Shee crafty Foxe, the silly Goose beguiles.
Thy sute is shaped so fit for long delay,
That she at will may chek, from yea to nay.
But in good soothe, tell me her freendes intent:
Best learne it first, their purpose I not know,
Why then thy will to worse and worse is bent,
Dost thou delight, the vnkindled cole to blow?
Or childlike louest, in anckred bote to rowe,
[Page]What meane these termes? who sith thy sute is such,
Know of or on, or thou affect too much.
No haste but good, why no, the meane is best,
Admit she loue, mislike in lingring growes:
Suppose she is caught, then Woodcocke on thy crest,
Till end approues, what scornefull seedes she sowes.
In loytring loue, such daungers ebbes and flowes,
What helpe herein? why wake in daungerous watch,
That too, nor fro, may make thee marre the match.
Is that the way to end my weary worke?
By quicke dispatch, to lesson long turmoyle,
Well well, though losse in lingering wontes to lurke,
And I a foole, most fitte to take the foyle:
Yet proofe from promise, neuer shall recoyle.
My wordes with deedes, and deedes with wordes shall wend,
Till shee or hers, gainsay that I intend.
Art thou so fond? not fond, but firmely fast,
Why foole her freendes wote how thy will is bent:
Yet thou like doult, whose witte and sence is past,
Seest not what frumpes, do follow thy entent.
Ne know, how loue in lewe of scorne is lent,
Adewe, for sightes such folly should preuent.
Well well, their scoffes with scornes might be repayd,
If my requestes were fully yead or nayd,
Well, well, let these with wisedomes praise be wayd,
And in your chest of cheefest secretes layd.
FJNJS.
‘My lucke is losse.’
48. What ioy to a contented mind.
THe faith that fayles, must needes be thought vntrue,
The freend that faines, who holdeth not vniust,
Who likes that loue, that changeth still for new:
Who hopes for trueth, where troth is voyde of trust,
No faith, no freend, no loue, no troth so sure,
But rather failes then stedfastly endure.
What head so stayed? that altereth not intent,
What thought so sure? that stedfast doth remaine,
What witte so wise? that neuer needes repent:
What tongue so true? but sometime wonts to faine,
What foote so firme? that neuer treades awrie.
What sooner dimde? then sight of clearest eye.
What hart so fixt? but soone enclines to change,
What moode so milde? that neuer moued debate:
What faith so strong, but lightly likes to range,
What loue so true? that neuer learnd to hate.
What life so pure? that lasts, without offence,
What worldly minde? but moues with ill pretence.
What knot so fast? that may not be vntide,
What seale so sure? but fraude or force shall breake:
What prop of stay? but one time shrinkes aside,
What ship so stauche? that neuer had a leake.
What graunt so large? that no exception makes,
What hoped helpe, but freend at neede forsakes.
What seate so high? but lowe to ground may fall,
What hap so good? that neuer found mislike:
What state so sure? but subiect is to thrall.
What force preuailes? where Fortune list to strike.
What wealth so much? but time may turne to want,
What store so great? but wasting maketh skant.
What profites hope in depth of daungers thrall.
What ruste in time, but waxeth worse and worse:
What helpes good harte, if Fortune frowne withall,
What blessing thriues, against heauenly helplesse curse.
What winnes desire to get and can not gayne,
What bootes to wish and neuer to obtaine.
FJNJS.
‘My lucke is losse.’
49.
Donec eris Faelix multos numerabis amicos,
Nullus ad amissas ibit amicus opes.
EVen as the Rauen, the Crow, and greedy Rite,
Do swarming flocke, where carren corps doth fall:
And tiring teare with beak and talentes might;
Both skin and flesh to gorge their guttes withall.
And neuer cease, but gather moe to moe,
Doe all to pull the carkas to and froe,
Till bared bones at last they leaue behinde,
And seeke elsewhere some fatter foode to finde.
Euen so I see, where wealth doth waxe at will.
And Gold doth grow to heapes of great encrease:
There freendes resort, and profering freendship still,
Full thicke they throng, with neuer ceasing prease.
And slilie make a shewe of true intent,
When nought but guile, and inward hate is ment,
For when mischance shall change such wealth to want,
They packe them thence to place of richer haunt.
FJNJS.
‘My lucke is losse.’
50. Amantium irae amoris redinte gratio est.
JN going to my naked bed as one that would haue slept,
I hard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept:
She sighed sore and sang full sweete, to bring the babe to rest,
That would not cease but cryed still, in sucking at her brest.
She was full wearie of her watch, and greeued with her child,
She rocked it and rated it, till that on her it smilde:
Then did she say now haue I found, this prouerb true to proue,
The falling out of faithfull freends, reliuing is of loue.
Then tooke I paper, penne and ynke, this prouerb for to write,
In regester for to remaine, of such a worthy wight:
As she proceeded thus in song vnto her little bratt,
Much matter vttered she of waight, in place whereas she satt.
And proued plaine, there was no beast, nor creature bearing life,
Could well be knowne to liue in loue, without discord and strife:
[Page 23]Then kissed she her little babe, and sware by God aboue,
The falling out of faithfull freendes, renuing is of loue.
She sayd that neither king ne prince, ne lord could liue aright,
Vntill their puissance they did proue their manhood and their might.
When manhood shall be matched so, that feare can take no place,
Then weary workes make warriours, eche other to embrace,
And leaued their force that failed them, which did consume the rout,
That might before haue liued their time, and nature out:
Then did she sing as one that thought, no man could her reproue,
The falling out of faithfull freendes, renuing is of loue.
She sayd she saw no fishe ne foule, nor beast within her haunt,
That mett a straunger in their kind, but could giue it a taunt:
Since fleshe might not endure, but rest must wrath succeede,
And force the fight to fall to play, in pasture where they feede,
So noble nature can well ende, the worke she hath begone,
And bridle well that will not cease, her tragedy in some:
Thus in song she oft reherst, as dyd her well behoue,
The falling out of faithfull freendes, is the renuing of loue.
I meruaile much pardy quoth she, for to behold the route,
To see man, woman, boy & beast, to tosse the world about:
Some kneele, sōe crouch, sōe beck, some chek, & some cā smothly smile,
And some embrace others in arme, and there thinke many a wile.
Some stand aloufe at cap and knee, some humble and some stoute,
Yet are they neuer freendes in deede, vntill they once fall out:
Thus ended she her song, and sayd before she did remoue,
The falling out of faithfull freendes, is the renuing of loue.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
51. Thinke to dye.
THe life is long, which lothsomely doth last,
The dolefull dayes draw slowly to their date:
The present pangues, and painfull plagues forepast,
Yeeldes griefe aye greene, to stablish this estate.
[Page]So that I feele in this great storme and strife,
That death is sweete, that shortneth such a life.
And by the stroke of this strange ouerthrowe,
All which conflict in thraldome I was thrust:
The Lord be praised, I am well taught to know,
From whence man came, and eke whereto he must.
And by the way, vpon how feeble force,
His terme doth stand, till death doth end his course.
The pleasant yeeres that seemes so sweetely ronne,
The merry dayes to ende, so fast that fleete:
The ioyfull wightes, of which dayes drawes so sone,
The happy howres which moe do misse then meete.
Do all consume as snowe against the Sunne,
And death makes end of all that life begunne.
Since death shall dure till all the world be wast,
What meaneth man to dreade death then so sore?
As man might make, that life should alway last,
Without regard the Lord hath ledde before.
The daunce of death, which all must runne on rowe,
The hower wherein onely himselfe doth knowe.
If man would minde, what burdens life doth bring,
What greeuous crimes to God he doth commit:
What plagues, what perill thereby spring,
With no sure hower in all his dayes to sit.
He would sure thinke, as with great cause I doe,
The day of death is happier of the two.
Death is the doore whereby we draw to ioy,
Life is the lake that drowneth all in payne:
Death is so dole it seaseth all away,
Life is so leude, that all it yeeldes is vayne.
And as by life, in bondage man is brought,
Euen so by death is freedome likewise wrought.
[Page 24]Wherefore with Paule let all men wish and pray,
To be dissolued of this foule fleshly masse:
Or at the least be armd against the day,
That they be found good souldiers prest to passe.
From life to death, from death to life againe,
And such a life as euer shall remaine.
FINIS.
D. S.
51.
If thou desire to liue in quiet rest,
geue eare and see but say the best.
If thou: delight, in quietnes of life,
Desire: to shunne, from brales, debate and strife,
To liue: in loue with god, with freend and foe,
In rest: shalt sleepe: when others cannot so.
Giue eare: to all, yet doo not all beleeue,
And see: the end, and then do sentence geeue:
But say: for truth of happy liues assinde,
The best: hath he that quiet is in minde.
FJNJS.
M. Hunnis.
52. Being forsaken of his freend he complaineth.
VVHy should I linger long to liue,
In this disease of fantasie,
Since fortune doth not cease to giue,
Thinges to my minde most contrarie.
And at my ioyes doth lowre and frowne,
Till she hath turned them vpsidowne,
A freend I had to me most deere,
And of long time faithfull and iust:
There was no one, my hart so neere,
Nor one in whom I had more trust.
[Page]Whom now of late without cause why,
Fortune hath made my enemy.
The grasse me thinkes should grow in skie,
The starres, vnto the earth cleaue fast:
The water streame should passe awrie,
The windes should leaue their strength of blast.
The Sunne and Moone by one assent,
Should both forsake the firmament.
The fishe in ayre should slye with finne,
The foules in floud, should bring forth fry:
All thinges methinkes should erst beginne,
To take their course vnnaturally,
Afore my freend should alter so,
Without a cause to be my foe.
But such is Fortunes hate I say,
Such is his will on me to wreake:
Such spite he hath at me alway,
And ceasseth not my hart to breake.
With such despite of crueltie,
Wherefore then longer liue should I.
FINIS.
E. S.
54. Prudens. The history of Damacles, & Dionise.
VVHo so is set in princely throne, and craueth rule to beare,
Is still beset on euery side, with perill and with feare.
High trees by stormy windes are shakt, and rent vp from the ground,
And flashly flackes of lightning flames on turrets do rebound.
When little shrubs in safetie lurke, in couert all alowe,
And freshly florish in their kind, what euer wind doe blowe.
The cruel king of
Scisili: who fearing Barbars hands.
Was wont to sludge his beard himself, with cole and fire brands,
Hath taught vs this, the proofe whereof, full plainly we may see,
[Page 25]Was neuer thing more liuely touched, to shewe it so to bee.
This king did seeme to
Damacles, to be the happiest wight,
Because he thought none like to him, in power or in might.
Who did alone so farre excell the rest in his degree,
As doth the Sunne in brightnes cleare, the darkest starre we see.
Wilt thou (then sayd this cruell king) proue this my present state,
Possesse thou shalt this seate of mine, and so be fortunate.
Full gladly then this
Damacles, this proferd honour tooke,
And shooting at a princely life, his quiet rest forsooke.
In honours seat then was he plast, according to his will,
Forthwith a banquet was prepard, that he might feast his fill,
Nothing did want wherin twas thought, that he could take delite,
To feede his eye, to fill his mouth, or please the appetite.
Such store of plate, I thinke in Greece, there scarsly was so much,
His seruitours did angels seeme, their passing shape was such.
No dayntie dish but their it was, and thereof was such store,
That through out Greece so princely cheere, was neuer seene before.
Thus while in pompe and pleasures seate, this
Damacles was plast,
And did begin with gladsome hart, eche daintie dish to tast.
At length by chaunce cast vp his eyes, and gan the house to vewe,
And sawe a sight that him enforst, his princely state to rewe.
A sword forsooth w
t downeward poynt, that had no stronger thread,
Then one horse heere that peised it, direct vpon his head.
Wherewith he was so sore amasde, and shoke in euery part,
As though the sword that hong aboue, had stroke him to the hart.
Then all their pleasures tooke their leaue, & sorrow came in place,
His heauie hart the teares declard, that trickled downe his face.
And then forthwith with sobbing voyce, besought the king of grace,
That he would licence him with speede, to depart out of that place.
And sayd that he full long enough, had tried now with feare,
What tis to be a happy man, and princely rule to beare.
This deede of thine oh
Dionise, deserues immortall fame,
This deede shal alwaies liue w
t praise, though thou didst liue w
t shame
Whereby both kinges be put in minde, their daungers to be great,
And subiects be forbid to climbe, high steppes of honours seat.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
48. Fortitude. A young man of Aegypt, and Valerian.
EChe one deserues great praise to haue, but yet not like I thinke,
Both he that can sustaine the yoke of paines, & doth not shrinke.
And he whom
Cupids couert craft can nothing moue at all,
Into the hard and tangled knottes of
Ʋenus snares to fall.
Besturre you then who so delightes in vertues race to ronne,
The flying boye with bow ibent, by strength to ouer come.
As one did once when he was young, and in his tender dayes,
Whose stoute and noble deede of his, hath got immortall praise.
The wicked Romaines did pursue the silly Christians than,
What time
Valerian Emperour was a wicked cruel man.
Who spared not with bloudy draughtes, to quench his owne desire,
Dispatching all that stucke to Christ with hotte consuming fire.
At length a man of tender yeeres was brought before his sight,
Such one as Nature seemed to make a witnes of her might.
For euery part so well was set, that nothing was depraued,
So that the cruell king himselfe, would gladly him haue saued.
So loth he was to see a worke, so rare of Natures power,
So finely built so sodainly destroyed within an howre.
Then meanes he sought to ouercome, or win him at the lest,
To slip from Christ whom he before had earnestly profest.
A bed preparde, so finely dect, such diuers pleasant smels,
That well it might appeare a place, where pleasure onely dwels,
By him he layd a naked wench, a
Venus darling sure,
With sugred speach & louely toyes, that might his mind assure.
Such wanton lewres as these he thought, might easly him entise,
Which things he knew with lustie youth, had alwayes ben in prise.
Such wayes I thinke y
e Gods themselues, could haue inuented none,
For flattering
Venus ouercomes the sences euery chone,
And he himselfe was euen at poynt, to
Venus to consent,
Had not his stout and manly minde resisted his entent.
When he perceiued his flesh to yeeld to pleasures wanton toyes.
And was by flight almost prouoked, to tast of
Venus ioyes.
More cruel to himselfe then those, that glad would him vndoo,
With bloudy tooth, his tender tongue, byt quite and cleane in twoo.
[Page 26]Thus was the paine so passing great of this his bloudie bitt,
That all the fire and carnall lust was quenched euery whitt.
Doe ill and all thy pleasures then full soone will passe away,
But yet the shame of those thy deedes, will neuermore decay.
Doe well and though thy paines be great, yet soone ech one wil cease,
But yet, the praise of those thy deedes will euermore increase.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
56. Iustice. Zaleuch and his Sonne.
LEt rulers make most perfect lawes, to rule both great and small
If they themselues obey them not, it booteth not at all.
As lawes be nought but rulers dome, containing equall might,
So rulers should bee speaking Lawes, to rule by line of right.
Zaleuch the Prince of
Locrine once, appoynted by decree,
Eche Lecherer should be punished, with losse of either eye.
His sonne by chaunce offended first, which when his father sawe,
Lord God how earnest then was he, to execute the Lawe.
Then ranne the people all by flockes, to him with weeping eyes,
Not one among the route there was, but pardon, pardon cries.
By whose outcries and earnest sute, his sonne in hope did stand,
That he thereby should then obtaine, some pardon at his hand,
But all in vaine, for he is founde to be the man he was,
And maketh hast so much the more, to haue the Lawe to passe.
The people yet renued their sute, in hope of some relief,
Whose faces all besprent with teares, did testifie their grief.
And cryed all for pities sake, yeeld now to our request,
If all you will not cleane remit, yet ease the paine at least.
Then somewhat was the father moued, with all the peoples voyce,
And euery man did giue a shoute, to shewe they did reioyce.
Wel then quoth he, it shall be thus, the Lawe shall be fulfilde,
And yet my sonne shall fauour haue, according as you wilde.
One eye of his shall be pulde out, thus hath his leudnesse got,
And likewise so shall one of mine, though I deserue it not.
This word no sooner was pronounced, but straite the deede was done,
Two eyes, no mo were left, betweene the father and the sonne.
Say now who can, and on my faith
Apollo he shall be,
Was he more gentle father lo? or suffer Iudge trowe ye.
This man would not his Lawes belike, the webbs the Spiders weue
[Page]Wherein they lurke when they intende the simple to deceiue.
Wherwith small flies ful soone be caught, and tangled ere they wist,
When great ones flie and scape away, and breake them as they liste.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
57. Temperaunce. Spurina and the Romaine Ladies.
IF nature beare thee so great Loue, y
t she in thee haue beautie plast,
Full hard it is as we doe proue, to keepe the body cleane and chast:
Twixt comelinesse and chastitie.
A deadly strife is thought to be.
For beautie which some men suppose, to be as tware a golden ill,
Prouoketh strife and many foes, that seeke on her to worke her will:
Assaults to Townes if many make,
No Towne so strong but may be take.
And this Spurina witnesse can, who did for beautie beare the bell,
So cleane a wight so comely made, no dame in Rome but loued well:
Not one could coole her hotte desire,
So burning was the flame of fire.
Like as when baite cast in the floud, forthw
t doth cause the fishes come
That pleasantly before did play, now presently to death to runne:
For when they see the baite to fall,
Straight way they swallow hooke and all.
So when Spurina they did see, to him they flocked out of hande,
So happest dame was thought to be, y
t in his fauour most did stand:
Not knowing vnder sweete deceits,
How Venus hides her poisoned baits.
But whē he saw them thus to range, whō loue had linked in his chain
This meanes he sought for to asswage, these Ladies of their greeuous pain:
His shape intending to disgrace,
With many wounds be scorcht his face.
By which his deede it came to passe, that he y
t seemed an angell bright
Euen now so cleane disfigured was, y
t he became a lothsome wight.
And rather had he be foule and chaste,
Then faire, and filthy ioyes to taste.
What pen can write, or tong expresse, y
e worthy praises of this deede,
Me thinke y
t God cā do no lesse, then graūt him heauē for his meede:
Who for to saue himselfe vpright,
Him selfe hath first destroyed quite.
Finis.
M. E.
58. A bunche of hearbes and flowers.
IF that eche flower, the Gods haue framed, or shapt by sacred skill,
Where as I would (no wrong to wishe) & mine to weare at will.
Or els eche tree, with lustie top, would lende me leaue to Loue,
With sprigs displaied to spred my sute, a wailing hart to proue.
Vpon my helme soone should you see, my head aduaunced hie,
Some slipp for solace there to set, and weare the same would I.
Yet would I not for great delight, the Daises straunge desire,
The Lillie would not like my lust, nor Rose would I require.
The Marigolde might growe for me, Rosemarie well might rest,
The fenell to, that is more fitt, for some vnfriendly geste.
Nor Cowslopps would I craue at all, sometimes they seeme to coy,
Some ioly youth the Gelliflower, esteemeth for his ioy.
The Lauender sometimes aloft, alures the lookers eyes,
The Paunsie shall not haue the praise, where I may giue the prise.
And thus no flower my fansie feedes, or liketh so my luste,
As that I may subiect my selfe, to toyes of tickle truste.
For flowres though they be faire and fresh, of sent excelling sweete.
Yet growe they on the ground belowe, we tread them with our feete.
And shall I then goe stoupe to such? or els goe seeke to those,
Shall flowres enforce me once to faune, for feare of frends or foes.
Yet rather yeeld I to the right, as reason hath assignde,
Mine aucthour sayd there was no salue, in flowres for me to finde.
And yet perhaps some Tree there is, to shroude me from the shower,
That with her armes may salue the soule, that yeeldeth to her power.
Where I may finde some pleasant shade, to salue me from the Sunne,
Eche thing we see that reason hath, vnto the Trees doe runne.
Both men & beasts such foules as flies, the treasures are the trees,
And for my part when braunches fall, I wishe no other fees.
But when that stormes beset me round, such succour God me send,
That I may finde a frendly Tree, that will me well defend.
No Tree there is which yelds no good, to some that doth it seeke:
And as they are of diuers kindes, their vses are vnlike.
The Eue tree serue y
e Bowyers turne, the Ashe the Coupers arte,
The puissaunt Oke doth make the poste, the Pine some other parte.
The Elmo doth helpe to hide the birds, in wearie Winters night,
The Briers I gesse are nothing worth, they serue but for despight.
[Page]The willow wisht I farre from hence, good will deserue no wrong,
The Sallowe well may serue their states, that sing so sad a song.
The Boxe and Beeche eche for himselfe, aboue the rest doth bost,
The Eglantine for pleasure oft, is pricked vpon the post,
The Hauthorne so is had in prise, the Baies doe beare the bell,
And that these Baies did bring no blisse, I like it not so well.
As erst I doe that seemely tree, by which those Baies I founde,
And wherewithall vnwittingly, I tooke so great a wounde.
As if the tree by which I lent, doth lende me no relief,
There is no helpe but downe I fall, so great is growne my grief.
And therefore at the last I craue, this fauour for to finde,
When euery tree that here is tolde, begins to growe vnkinde.
The B. for beautie whom I boast, and shall aboue the rest,
That B. may take me to her trust, for B. doth please me best.
It likes me well to walke the way, where B. doth keepe her bower,
And when it Raines to B. I runne to saue me from the shower.
This braunche of B. which here I meane, to keepe & chiefly craue,
At becke vnto this B. I bowe, to serue that beautie braue.
What shall I say the time doth passe, the tale too tedious is,
though lothe to leaue, yet leaue I must, and say no more but this.
I wishe this B. I might embrace, when as the same I see,
A league for life then I require, betweene this B. and mee.
And though vnworthy, yet good will, doth worke the way herein,
And B. hath brought y
e same aboue, which beautie did begin.
Finis.
59. Jn commendation of Musick.
WHere griping grief y
e hart would woūd, & dolfull dumpes y
e minde
there Musick w
t her siluer soūd, is wont w
t spede to giue redresse:
Of troubled minds for euery sore, sweete Musick hath a salue in store.
In ioy makes our mirth abound, in grief it cheres our heauy sprits,
the careful head relief hath found, by Musicks pleasant swete delits:
Our senses, what should I say more, are subiect vnto Musicks lore,
The Gods by Musick hath their pray, the foule therein doth ioy,
For as the Romane Poets say, in seas whom Pirats would destroy,
A Dolphin saude frō death most sharpe, Arion playing on his harpe:
Oh heauēly gift, y
t turnes the mind, like as the sterne doth rule y
e ship,
Of musick whō the gods assignde to cōfort mā, whō cares would nip,
sith thou both mā & beast dost moue, what wisemā thē wil thee reproue
Finis.
60. A dialogue betweene the auctour and his eye.
Auctour.
MY eye why didst thou light on that, which was not thine?
Why hast thou with thy sight, thus slaine an hart of myne?
O thou vnhappie eye, would God thou hadst been blinde,
When first thou didst her spie, for whom this grief I finde.
Eye.
Why sir it is not I, that doe deserue such blame,
Your fancie not your eye, is causer of the same:
For I am ready prest, as page that serues your ease,
To searche what thing is best, that might your fancie please.
Auctour.
I sent thee forth to see, but not so long to bide,
Though fancie went with thee, thou wert my fancies guide:
Thy message beyng done, thou mightst returne againe,
So Cupid Venus sonne, no whit my hart should paine.
Eye.
Where fancie beareth swaye, there Cupid will be bolde,
And reason flies away, from Cupids shafte of golde:
If you finde cause thereby, some deale of painefull smarte,
Alas blame not your eye, but blame consent of harte.
Auctour.
My hart must I excuse, and lay the fault on thee,
Because thy sight did chuse, when hart from thought was free:
Thy sight thus brought consent, consent hath bred my grief,
And grief bids be content, with sorrow for relief.
FJNJS.
M. Hunnis.
61. Finding no ioy, he desireth death.
THe Connie in his caue, the Feret doth annoy,
And fleing thence his life to saue, himselfe he doth destroy,
His Berrie round about beset, with Hunters snares,
So that when he to scape starts out, is caught therein vnwares,
Like choise poore man haue I, to bide and rest in Loue,
Or els from thence to flie, as badde a death to proue.
I see, in Loue to rest, vnkindnesse doth pursure,
To rent the hart out of his breast, which is a Louer true:
[Page]And if from Loue I start, as one that Loue forsakes,
Then pensiue thoughts my hart doth pearce, and so my life it takes.
Then thus to flie or bide, hard is the choise to chuse,
Since death hath campd, & trenched eche side, & saith life now refuse.
Content I am therefore, my life therein to spende,
And death I take a salue for sore, my wearie dayes to ende.
And thus I you require, that faithfull Loue professe,
When carcas cased is in cheste, and body layed on hearse.
Your brinishe teares to saue, such as my corse shall moue,
And therewith write vpon my graue, beholde the force of Loue.
FJNJS.
M. Hunnis.
Hope well and haue well.
JN hope the Shipman hoiseth saile, in hope of passage good,
In hope of health the sicke man, doth suffer losse of blood:
In hope the prisoner linckt in chaines, hopes libertie to finde,
Thus hope breds health, & health breds ease, to euery troubled minde.
In hope desire gets victorie, in hope great comfort springs,
In hope the Louer liues in ioyes, he feares no dreadfull stings,
In hope we liue and may abyde, such stormes as are assignde,
Thus hope breds health, & health breds case, to euery troubled minde.
In hope we easily suffer harme, in hope of future time,
In hope of fruit, the paine seemes sweete, that to the tree doth clime:
In hope of Loue such glory growes, as now by proofe I finde,
That hope breds health, & heath breds ease to euery troubled minde.
FJNJS.
M. Hunnis.
He requesteth some freendly comfort, affirming his constancie.
THe mountaines hie whose loftie topps, doth meete the hautie sky,
The craggie rocke that to the sea, free passage doth deny:
The aged Oke that doth resist, the force of blustring blast,
The pleasant hearbe that euery where, a fragrant smell doth cast.
The Lions force whose courage stout, declares a princelike might,
The Eagle that for worthinesse, is borne of kings in fight:
The Serpent eke whose poisoned iawes, doth belche out venime vile,
The lothsome Tode that shunneth light, and liueth in exile.
These these I say and thousands more by trackt of time decay,
And like to time doe quite consume, and vade from time to clay:
[Page 29]But my true hart and seruice vowed, shall last time out of minde,
And still remaines as thine by dome, as Cupid hath assignde.
My faith loe here I vowe to thee, my troth thou knowest right well,
My goods my freends, my life is thine, what neede I more to tell?
I am not mine, but thine I vowe, thy hestes I will obey,
And serue thee as a seruaunt ought, in pleasing if I may:
And sithe I haue no flying wings, to see thee as I wishe,
Ne sinnes to cut the siluer streames, as doth the gliding fishe.
Wherefore leaue now forgetfulnesse, and send againe to me,
And straine thy azured vaines to write, then I may greeting see:
And thus farewell more deare to me, then chiefest friend I haue,
Whose Loue in hart I minde to shrine, till death his fee doe craue.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
He complaineth his mishap.
SHall rigour raigne where ruth hath run, shal fansie now forsake?
Shall fortune lose that fauour won, shall not your anger slake?
Shall hatefull hart be had in you, that friendly did pretende,
Shall slipper thought and faith vntrue, that hart of yours defende?
Shall nature shewe your beautie faire, that gentle seemes to bee?
Shall frowardnesse your fancies heire, be of more force then shee?
Shall now disdaine the dragg of death, direct and leade the way?
Shall all the imps vpon the earth, reioyce at my decay?
Shall this the seruice of my youth, haue such reward at last?
Shall I receiue rigour of ruthe, and be from fauour tast?
Shall I therefore berent my heares, with wights that wishe to dye?
Or shall I bathe my selfe with teares, to feede your fickle eye.
No, no, I shall in paine lye still, with turtle Doue most true,
And vowe my selfe to witt and will, their counsels to ensue:
Good Ladies all that Louers be, and that to be pretende,
Giue place to witt, let reason seeme, your enemie to defende.
Least y
t you thinke as I haue thought, your selfe to striue in vaine,
And so to be in thraldome brought, with me to suffer paine.
FINIS.
M. Hunnis.
No foe to a flatterer.
J Would it were not as I thinke, I would it were not so,
I am not blinde although I winke, I feele what winds doe blowe:
[Page]I know where craft, w
t smiling cheere, creps into boldned brest,
I heare how fained speache speakes faire, where hatred is possest.
I see the Serpent lie and lurcke, vnder the greene alowe,
I see him watch a time to worke, his poyson to bestowe.
In freendly lookes such fraude is found, as faith for feare is fled,
And freendship hath receiude such wound, as he is almost ded.
And hatefull hart with malice great, so boiles in cankred minde,
That flatterie flearing in the face, had almost made me blinde.
But now I see all is not golde, that glittereth in the eye,
Nor yet such freendes as they professe, as now by proofe I trye.
Though secret spight by craft, hath made a coate of Panter skin,
And thinkes to finde me in the shade, by sleight to wrap me in,
Yet God be praised my eye is cleare, and can beholde the Sunne:
When falshood dare not once appeare, to ende that he begunne,
Thus time shall trie the thing amisse, which God saue shortly sende,
And turne the hart that fained is, to be a faithfull frende.
FINIS.
M. Hunnis.
His comparison of Loue.
THe Spider with great skill, doth trauell day by day,
His lymmes no time lie still, to set his house in staie:
And when he hath it wrought, thinking therein to raigne,
A blaste of winde vnthought, doth driue it downe againe,
The proofe whereof is true, to make his worke indure,
He paines himselfe a newe, in hope to dwell more sure:
And in some secret place, a corner of a wall,
He frameth himselfe a pace, to builde and rest withall.
His pleasure sweete to staie, when he to rest is bent,
And vgly shamble Flee, approcheth to his tent:
And there intendes by force, his labours great to win,
Or els to yeelde his corse, by fatall death therein,
Thus is the Spiders nest, from time to time throwne downe,
And he to labour prest, with endlesse paine vnknowne:
So such as Louers bee, like trauell doe attaine,
Those endlesse works ye see, are alwayes full of paine.
FJNJS.
M. Hunnis.
A Louers ioye.
J Haue no ioy, but dreame of ioy, and ioy to thinke on ioye,
A ioy I withstoode, for to enioy, to finishe mine annoy.
I hate not without cause alas, yet Loue I knowe not why,
I thought to hate, I can not hate, although that I should dye.
A foe most sweete, a freend most sower, I ioy for to embrace.
I hate the wrong, and not the wight, that workt my wofull case:
What thing it is I knowe not I, but yet a thing there is,
That in my fancie still perswads, there is no other blisse.
The ioyes of life, the pangues of death, it make me feele eche day,
But life nor death, this humour can, deuise to weare away.
Faine would I die, but yet in death no hope I see remaines,
And shall I liue? since life I see, a course of sorie paines:
What is it then that I doe seeke, what ioy would I aspire,
A thing that is diuine belike, to high for mans desire.
FJNJS.
F. K.
Euill to him that euill thinketh.
THe subtill slily slights, that worldly men doe worke,
The friendly showes, vnder whose shade, most crafte doeth often lurke:
Enforceth me alas, with yernfull voyce to say,
Wo worth the wilie heads that seekes, the simple mans decay.
The birde that dreads no guile, is soonest caught in snare,
Eche gentle hart deuoide of craft, is soonest brought to care:
Good nature soonest trapt, which giues me cause to say,
Wo worth the wilie heads, that seekes the simple mans decay.
I see the Serpent vile, that lurkes vnder the greene,
How subtilly he shroudes himselfe, that he may not be seene:
And yet his fosters bane, his learing lookes bewray,
Wo worth the wilie heads that seekes, the simple mans decay.
Wo worth the feining lookes, on fauour that we doe waite,
Wo worth the feined friendly hart, that harbours deepe deceite:
Wo worth the Vipers broode, oh thrise wo worth I say,
All worldly wilie heads, that seekes the simple mans decay.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
He assureth his constancie.
WIth painted speache I list not proue, my cunning for to trie,
Nor yet will vse to fill my penne, with gilefull flatterie:
With pen in hand, & hart in brest, shall faithfull promise make,
To loue you best, and serue you most, by your great vertues sake.
And sure dame Nature hath you deckt, with gifts aboue the rest,
Let not Disdaine a harbour finde, within your noble brest:
For Loue hath lead his lawe a like, to men of eche degree,
So that the Begger with the Prince, shall Loue as well as he.
I am no Prince I must confesse, nor yet of Princes line,
Nor yet a brutish Begger borne, that feedes among the Swine:
The fruite shall trie the tree at last, the blossomes good or no,
Then doe not iudge of me the worse, till you haue tried me so.
As I deserue, so then reward, I make you iudge of all,
If I be false in worde or deede, let Lightning Thunder fall:
And Furies fell with franticke fitts, bereue and stay my breathe,
For an example to the rest, if I shall breake my faith.
FJNJS.
M. Hunnis.
Complaining his mishapp to his friend, he complaineth wittely.
A.
THe fire shall freze, the frost shall frie the frozen moūtaines hie,
B.
What straunge thinges hath dame natures force, to turne her course awrie:
A.
My Loue hath me left, and taken a newe man:
B.
This is not straunge, it happes oft times, the truth to scan,
A.
The more is my paine,
B.
her Loue then refraine.
A.
Who thought she would flitt,
B.
eche one that hath witt,
A.
Is this not straunge,
B.
light Loue will chaunge.
A.
By skilfull meanes I here reclaime, to stoope vnto my lure,
B.
Such haggard Haukes will soare away, of them who can be sure,
A.
With siluer bels and hoode, my ioy was her to decke,
B.
She was full gorgde, she would the sooner giue the checke,
A.
The more is my paine,
B.
her Loue then refraine:
A.
Who thought she would flitt,
B.
eche one that hath witt,
A.
Is not this straunge,
B.
light Loue will chaunge.
A.
Her chirping lips should chirpe to me, swete words of her desire
B.
Such chirping birdes who euer saw, to preach still on one brire,
A.
She said she loued me best, and would not till she die,
B.
She said in wordes, she thought it not, as time doth trie.
A.
[Page 31]
The more is my paine,
B.
her Loue then refraine:
A.
Who thought she would flitt,
B.
eche one that hath witt,
A.
Is not this straunge,
B.
light Loue will chaunge.
A.
Can no man winne a woman so, to make her Loue endure,
B.
To make the Foxe his wiles to leaue, what man will put in vre;
A.
Why then there is no choise, but all women will chaunge,
B.
As men doe vse, so some women doe Loue to raunge.
A.
The more is my paine,
B.
her Loue then refraine,
A.
Who thought she would flitt,
B.
eche one that hath witt:
A.
Is not this straunge,
B.
light Loue will chaunge.
A.
Sith slipper gaine falles to my lot, farewell that gliding pray,
B.
Sith that the dice doth runne awrie, betimes leaue of thy play.
A.
I will no more lament, the thing I may not haue,
B.
Then by exchaunge the losse to come, all shalt thou saue.
A.
Loue will I refraine,
B.
thereby thou shalt gaine,
A.
With losse I will leaue,
B.
she will thee deceaue:
A.
That is not straunge,
B.
then let her raunge.
FINIS.
M. Edwardes.
No paines comparable to his attempt.
LIke as the dolefull Doue, delightes alone to bee,
And doth refuse the bloumed branche, chusing the leaflesse tree.
Whereon wailing his chaunce, with bitter teares besprent,
Doth with his bill, his tender breast oft pearse and all to rent.
Whose greeuous gronyngs tho: whose gripes of pyning paine,
Whose gastly lookes, whose bloudy streames out flowing frō ech vain
Whose falling from the tree, whose panting on the grounde,
Examples bee of myne estate, tho there appeare no wounde.
FINIS.
W. Hunnis.
He repenteth his follie.
A Lacke when I looke backe, vpon my youth thatz paste,
And deepely ponder youthes offence, & youthes reward at laste.
With sighes and teares I say, O God I not denie,
My youth with follie hath deserued, with follie for to die.
But yet if euer sinfull man, might mercie moue to ruthe,
Good Lorde with mercie doe forgiue, the follies of my youthe.
In youth I rangde the feeldes, where vices all did growe,
[Page]In youth alas I wanted grace, such vice to ouerthrowe.
In youth what I thought sweete, most bitter now do finde,
Thus hath the follies of my youth, with folly kept me blind.
Yet as the Egle castes her bill, whereby her age renueth,
So Lorde with mercy doe forgiue, the follies of my youth.
FJNJS.
M. Hunnis.
No pleasure without some paine.
HOw can the tree but wast, and wither away,
That hath not sometime comfort of the Sunne:
How can that flower but fade, and soone decay,
That alwayes is with darke cloudes runne.
Is this a life, nay death you may it call,
That feeles eche paine, and knoweth no ioy at all.
What foodlesse beast can liue long in good plight;
Or is it life, where sences there be none:
Or what auaileth eyes without their light?
Or els a tongue, to him that is alone.
Is this a life? nay death you may it call,
That feeles eche paine, and knowes no ioy at all.
Whereto serue eares, if that there be no sound,
Or such a head, where no deuise doth growe:
But all of plaintes, since sorrow is the ground,
Whereby the hart doth pine in deadly woe.
Is this a life, nay death you may it call,
That feeles eche paine, and knowes no ioy at all.
FINIS.
L. Ʋaux.
The fruite of feined friendes.
JN choise of frends what hap had I, to chuse one of cirēs kind
whose harp, whose pipe, whos melody could fede my ears & make me blind
Whose pleasant voice made me forget, y
t in sure trust is great deceit.
In trust I see is treason founde, and man to man deceitfull is,
And whereas treasure doth abound, of flatterers there doe not misse:
Whose painted speach, & outward show, do seme as frends & be not so,
Would I haue thought in thee to be, the nature of the Crocadill:
Which if a mā a slepe may see, w
t bloudy thirst desires to kill:
And then with teares a while gan weepe, y
e death of him thus slaine a sleepe,
[Page 29]O fauel false, thou traitor born, what mischief more might thou deuise
Then thy deare frend to haue in scorne, & him to woūd in sundry wise,
Which still a frende pretends to be, and are not so by proofe I see.
Fie, fie, vpon such trecherie.
W. H.
If such false Shippes doe haunt the shore,
Strike downe the saile and trust no more.
M. Edwards.
A dialogue betweene a Gentleman and his Loue.
A.
SHall I no way winne you, to graunt my desire?
B.
What woman will graunt you, the thing you require:
A.
You onely to Loue me, is all that I craue,
B.
You onely to leaue me, is all I would haue.
A.
My deare alas, now say not so,
B.
To Loue you best I must say no:
A.
Yet will I not flitt,
B.
then play on the bitt.
B.
I will,
B.
doe still,
A.
yet kill not,
B.
I will not.
A.
Make me your man,
B.
beshrewe me than.
A.
The swifter I followe, then you flie away,
B.
Swift haukes in their flying, oft tymes misse their pray.
A.
Yet some killeth deadly, that flie to the marke:
B.
You shall touche no feather, thereof take no carke.
A.
Yet hope shall further my desire,
B.
You blowe the coales, and raise no fire,
A.
Yet will I not flitt,
B.
then play on the bitt,
B.
I will,
B.
doe still,
A.
yet kill not,
B.
I will not,
A.
Make me your man,
B.
beshrewe me than.
A.
To loue is no daunger, where true Loue is ment,
B.
I will Loue no ranger, least that I repent:
A.
My Loue is no raunger, I make God auow,
B.
To trust your smothe sayings, I sure knowe not how.
A.
Most truth I meane, as time shall well trie,
B.
No truth in men, I ofte espie.
A.
Yet will I not flitt,
B.
then play on the bitt.
B.
I will,
B.
doe still,
A.
yet kill not,
B.
I will not,
A.
Make me your man,
B.
beshrewe me than.
A.
Some women may say nay, and meane Loue most true,
B.
Some women can make fooles, of as wise men as you:
A.
[Page]
In tyme I shall catche you, I knowe when and where:
B.
I will soone dispatche you, you shall not come there.
A.
Some speedes at length, that ofte haue miste,
B.
I am well armde, come when you liste.
A.
Yet will I not flitt,
B.
then play on the bitt,
A.
I will,
B.
doe still,
A.
yet kill not,
B.
I will not,
A.
Make me your man,
B.
beshrewe me than.
A.
Yet worke your kinde kindly, graunt me Loue for Loue,
B.
I will vse you friendly, as I shall you proue:
A.
Most true you shall finde me, I this doe protest,
B.
Then sure you shall binde me, to graunt your request.
A.
O happie threede, now haue I spunne,
B.
You sing before the conquest wonne.
A.
Why then, will you swarue,
B.
euen as you deserue:
A.
Loue still,
B.
I will,
A.
yet kill not,
B.
I will not,
A.
Make me your man,
B.
come to me than.
FJNJS.
M. Edwards.
Exclaiming vpon his vnkind Loue, his friend replieth wittely.
M.
VVHat death may bee, compared to Loue;
H.
What griefe therein, now doest thou proue?
M.
My paines alas, who can expresse,
H.
I see no cause of heauinesse.
M.
My Ladies lookes, my woe hath wrought:
H.
Then blame thine eyes, that first hath sought,
M.
I burne alas, and blowe the fire,
H.
A foole consumes by his desire,
M.
What shall I doe than?
H.
come out and thou can.
M.
Alas I die,
H.
what remedie?
M.
My sugred sweete, is mixed with gall,
H.
Thy Ladie can not doe with all:
M.
The more I seeke, the lesse I finde,
H.
Then striue not with the streame and wind,
M.
Her most I loue, although I smarte,
H.
With her owne sworde, thou slaiest thy hart:
M.
Such pleasaunt baites, who can refraine,
H.
Such baites will sure breede thee great paine,
M.
[Page 33]
What shall I doe than?
H.
Come out and thou can.
M.
Alas I die,
H.
what remedie.
M.
Her golden beames, mine eyes doe daze,
H.
Vpon the Sunne thou maiest not gaze:
M.
She might reward my cruell smarte,
H.
She thinkes thou hardst a fained harte,
M.
She laughes to heare my wofull cries,
H.
Forsake her then, in tyme be wise:
M.
No, no, alas, that may not bee,
H.
No wise man then, will pitie thee,
M.
What shall I doe than?
H.
come out and thou can.
M.
Alas I die,
H.
what remedie.
M.
A liuyng death, loe thus I proue,
H.
Such are the fruites of froward Loue:
M.
O that I might her Loue once gaine,
H.
Thy gaine would not, halfe quite the paine.
M.
Her will I Loue, though she be coye,
H.
A foole him selfe, will still annoye:
M.
Who will not die, for suche a one?
H.
Bee wise at length, let her alone:
M.
I can not doe so,
H.
then be thy owne fo,
M.
Alas I die,
H.
what remedie.
FJNJS.
E. S.
The complaint of a Louer, wearing Blacke and Taunie.
A Crowne of Bayes shall that man weare,
That triumphes ouer mee:
For Blacke and Taunie will I weare,
Which mournyng colours bee.
The more I followe on, the more she fled awaye,
As Daphne did full long agoe, Apollos wishfull praye:
The more my plaintes resounde, the lesse she pities me,
The more I sought, the lesse I founde, that mine she meant to be.
Melpomene, alas with dolefull tunes helpe than,
And sing
Bis woe worthe on me forsaken man:
[Page]Then Daphnes Baies shall that man weare, y
t triumphes ouer me,
For blacke & Taunie will I weare, which mourning colours be.
Drowne me you trickling teares, you wailefull wights of woe,
Come help these hāds to rent my heares, my rufull hap to showe:
On whom the scorching flames of Loue, doth feede you see,
Ah a lalalantida my deare Dame, hath thus tormented mee.
Wherefore you Muses nine, with dolefull tunes helpe than,
And sing
Bis woe worthe on me forsaken man:
Then Daphnes Baies shall that man weare, y
t triumphs ouer me,
For Blacke and Taunie wil I weare, which mourning colours be.
An Ancres life to leade, with nailes to scratche my graue,
Where yearthly wormes on me shall feede, is all y
e ioyes I craue:
And hide my selfe from shame, sith that mine eyes doe see,
Ah a lalalantida my deare dame, hath thus tormented mee.
And all that present bee, with dolefull tunes helpe than:
And sing
Bis woe worthe on me, forsaken man.
FJNJS.
E. O.
Finding no reliefe, he complaineth thus.
JN quest of my reliefe, I finde distresse,
In recompence of Loue, most deepe disdaine:
My laugour such, as wordes may not expresse,
A shower of teares, my watrishe eye doth raine.
I dreame of this, and doe define of woe,
I wander in the thoughtes of my sweete foe.
I would no peace, the cause of warre I flie,
I hope. I feare, I burne, I chill in Froste:
I lye a lowe, yet mountes my minde on hie,
Thus doubtfull stormes, my troubled thoughtes haue toste,
And for my paine, this pleasure doe I proue,
I hate my selfe, and pine in others Loue.
The worlde I graspe, yet holde I nought at all,
At libertie I seeme, in prison pent:
I taste the sweete, more sower then bitter gall,
My shippe seemes sounde, and yet her ribbs be rent.
And out alas, on Fortune false I crie,
[Page 34]Looke what I craue, that still shee doth denie.
Both life and death, be equall vnto me,
I doe desire to die, yet craue I life.
My wittes with sundry thoughtes doe disagree,
My felfe am with my selfe at mortall strife.
As warmth of Sunne, doth melte the siluer Snowe,
The heate of Loue, beholde consumes me so.
FJNJS.
R. Hill.
Written vpon the death of his especiall good friend Maister Iohn Barnabie, who departed this life at Bensted in the countie of Southampton 25. Ianuary. 1579. Aetatis. 78.
MIne owne good father thou art gone thine eares are stopt w
t clay
Thy gost is fled, thy body dead, thou hearste not what I say.
Thy dearest friends may sigh & sobb, thy children cry and call,
Thy wife may waile and not preuaile, nor doe thee good at all.
Though reason would we should reioyce, & trickling teares restraine,
Yet kindlynes and friendlynes, enforce vs to complaine.
Thy life was good our losse the more, thy presence cherd our hart,
Thy lacke and absence turnd therefore, our solace into smart.
I found thee both a kindly friend, and friendly father too,
Barnabie lacks breath, O cruel death & couldst thou part vs two.
But death derides my wofull words, & to my saying saith,
Thou foolish wight I did but right, I force nor friend nor faith.
The Lord of life & Lord of death, my threatning hand did let,
Els when y
t he in cradell lay, I might haue claimd my debt.
His corps is clad in cloddes of earth, his soule doth soore on hie,
Before the throne of God aboue, whose seruaunt he did die.
And thou his friend & she his spouse, and they his children shall,
Behold the father friend and mate, whose absence greeues you all.
But he nor can, nor will returne to thee to her or them,
For heauen is his, he liues in blisse, ye dwell with mortall men.
Ye dwell in darke & dreadfull denne in prison pent are yee,
He liues in light, and all delight, from thraldome franke and free.
Wishe not that he should come to you for then you doe him wrong,
But wishe that ye may goe to him, the blessed saintes among.
FJNJS.
H. D.
Coelum non solum.
JF care or skill, could conquere vayne desyre,
Or reasons raignes my strong affection stay,
Then should my sighes to quiet brest retyre,
And shunne such signes, as secret thoughts bewray,
Vncomely Loue, which now lurkes in my breast,
Should cease my griefe, through wisdomes power opprest
But who can leaue to looke on Venus face,
Or yeeldeth not to Iunos high estate,
What witte so wise, as giues not Pallace place,
These vertues rare, eche Gods did yeelde a mate,
Saue her alone, who yet on earth doth raigne.
Whose bewties string, no God can well destraine.
What worldly wight can hope for heauenly hyre,
When onely sighes must make his secret mone,
A silent sute doth seeld to grace aspyre,
My haplesse happ doth roule the restlesse stone,
Yet Phebe fayre disdaynde the heauens aboue,
To ioy on earth, her poore
Edimions loue.
Rare is reward where none can iustly craue,
For chaunce is choyse, where reason makes no clayme,
Yet luck sometimes, dispayring soules doth saue,
A happy Starre, made Giges ioy attayne.
A slauishe Smith, of rude and raskall race,
Found meanes in tyme to gayne a Goddes grace.
Then loftye loue, thy sacred sayles aduaunce,
My sithing seas shall flow with streames of teares,
Amidst disdayne driue forth my dolefull chaunce,
A valyaunt mynde, no deadly daunger feares,
Who loues aloft, and sets his heart on hye,
Deserues no payne, though he do pine and dye.
FJNIS,
E. O.
A Louer reiected, complaineth,
THe trickling teares, that falles along my cheekes,
The secret sighes that showes my inward greefe,
The present paynes perforce, that loue aye seekes,
Bids me renew my cares without releefe.
[Page 35]In wofull song in dole display,
my pensyue heart for to bewray.
Bewray thy greefe, thy wofull hart with speede,
Resigne thy voyce to her that causde thy woe:
With yrkesome cries bewayle thy late done deede,
For she thou louest, is sure thy mortall foe.
And helpe for thee there is none sure,
But still in payne thou must indure.
The stricken Deare hath helpe to heale his wounde,
The haggerd Hauke, with toyle is made full tame:
The strongest tower, the Canon layes on grounde,
The wisest witte that euer had the fame,
Was thrall to loue, by Cupids sleightes,
Then waie my case with equall weights.
She is my ioy, she is my care and wo,
She is my payne, she is my ease therefore:
She is my death, she is my life also,
She is my salue, she is my wounded sore.
In fine, she hath the hand and knyfe,
That may both saue and end my lyfe.
And shall I liue on earth to be her thrall,
And shall I sue and serue her all in vayne?
And kisse the steppes that she lets fall,
And shall I pray the Gods to keepe the payne?
From her, that is so cruell still,
No, no, on her worke all your will.
And let her feele the power of all your might,
And let her haue her most desire with speede:
And let her pine away both day and night,
And let her mone, and none lament her needde.
And let all those that shall her see,
Despise her state, and pittie me.
FJNIS.
E. O.
Not attayning to his desyre, he complayneth.
J Am not as I seeme to be, nor when I smyle, I am not glad:
A thrall although you count me free, I most in myrth, most pensiue sad:
[Page]I smile to shade my bitter spight, as Haniball that sawe in sight:
His coūtry soile w
t Carthage towne: by Romane force defaced downe.
And Cesar that presented was, w
t noble Pompeis princely head,
As twere some iudge to rule y
e cace, a floud of teares he semde to shed:
Although in deede it sprong of ioy, yet other thought it was annoy,
Thus contraries be vsed I finde, of wise to cloke the couert minde.
I Haniball that smiles for grief, & let you Cesars teares suffice,
The one that laughs at his mischief, y
e other all for ioy that cries:
I smile to see me scorned so, you weepe for ioy to see me woe,
And I a hart by Loue slaine dead, presents in place of Pompeis head.
O cruell hap, and hard estate, that forceth me to loue my fo,
Accursed be so foule a fate, my choise for to prefixe it so:
So long to fight with secret sore, and finde no secret salue therefore,
Some purge their paine by plaint I finde, but I in vain do breath my winde.
FINIS.
E. Ox.
His minde not quietly setled, he writeth thus.
EVen as the waxe doth melt, or dewe consume away,
Before the Sunne, so I behold through carefull thoughts deeay:
For my best lucke leades me, to such sinister state,
That I doe waste with others Loue, that hath my selfe in hate,
And he that beates the bushe, the wished birde not gotts,
But such I see as sitteth still, and holdes the fouling netts.
The Drone more Honnie sucks, that laboureth not at all,
Then doth the Bee, to whose most paine, least pleasure doth befall:
The Gardner sowes the seedes, whereof the flowers doe growe,
And others yet doe gather them, that tooke lesse paine I knowe.
So I the pleasant Grape haue pulled from the Vine,
And yet I languish in great thirst, whiles others drinke the wine.
Thus like a woefull wight, I woue the webb of woe,
The more I would weede out my cares, the more they seme to grow:
The which betokeneth ioy, forsaken is of mee,
That with the carefull Culuer climes, the worne and withered tree.
To entertaine my thoughtes, and there my happ to mone,
That neuer am lesse idle loe, then when I am alone.
FINIS.
E. Ox.
No ioy Comparable to a quiet minde.
JN lothsome race pursued by slippery life,
Whose sugred guile doth glistering ioy present:
The carefull ghost oppressed sore with strife,
Yeeldes ghostly grones from painefull passions sent.
The sinfull flesh that beares him here in vewe,
In steede of life doth dreadfull death pursue.
The way he seeth by touche of merites grace,
Wherein to runne alas he gladly would:
But filthy fleshe his wretched dwelling place,
Doth so rebell at that which doe he should.
That silly soule who feeles his heauie neede,
Can onely will but naught performe in deede.
The will through grace doth oft desire the good,
But all in vaine for that the fleshly foe:
Yeeldes forth such fruites as sinnes hath bred in bud,
And blindly suckes the sapp of deadly woo.
Esteeming showes of fickell fancies knowen,
And scorning fruite by grace, eternall sowen.
Though eye doth see that death doth swallow all,
Both life and lust and euery sound delight:
Yet wretched fleshe through sinne is made so thrall,
That nought it markes apparent thinges in sight.
That might him traine, to care of better grace,
Both doth his bale with greedy lust imbrace.
Then sins desert and all things weare away,
That nought remaine but fruite of grace or sinne:
God build in vs such conscience as can say,
This fruite not mine but sinne that dwelt me in.
For why to sinne I dayly do in sight,
That vnto Christ I may reuiue my spright.
FJNJS.
ꝙ
Candish.
A Complaint.
IF
Cressed in her gadding moode,
Had not gone to the greekish hoste:
Where she by Diomede was woode,
And wonne from him that loude her most.
She had not fallen to such mischeefe,
Nor turned
Troylus to such greefe,
Nor
Diomede had not vpbrayed,
To worthy
Troylus, Cressed spoyle.
Nor these two worthies had not frayed,
So oft ech others fame to foyle:
If Catterwaling
Cressed coy,
Had taried with her loue in
Troy.
No
Troians foe, nor cruell
Greike,
Had triumphte ouer her good name:
If she had not gone forth to seeke,
The Campe where women winne no fame,
She had bene calde no common Gill,
If she in
Troy had tarryed still.
She had not knowne the Lazars call,
With Cuppe and Clap her almes to winne:
Nor how infectiue scabbe and scall,
Do cloth the Lepre Ladies skinne,
She had no such distresse in
Troy,
But honour, fauour, wealth, and ioy.
Howbeit she could not tarry there,
But needes forsooth a gadding go,
To feele the tast of Straungers chere,
Nise noueltie lo prickt her so.
She could not hold where she was well,
But strayed and into ruin fell.
[Page 37]I pleasure not to blaze her blame,
Nor chiding cannot mend her mis:
But all good women by her shame,
May learne what Catterwaling is.
For wandring women, most men say,
Cannot be good and goe astray.
It is not womens excercise,
To straye or gadde in field or towne:
Men count them neyther good nor wyse,
They blot and blemish their renowne.
They hurt their fame, they please their foe,
And greeues their friend to see them so.
FINJS
Troylus.
A Replye.
NO gadding moode, but forced strife,
Compelled me retyre from
Troy:
If
Troylus would haue vowde his wife,
We might haue dwelt in former ioy.
Ne
Diomede nor greekish wight,
Had sought my blame or his despight.
If ought the feeble force of mine,
Could haue withstood the Kingly heast,
If flowing fluds of stilled rine,
Had pittie found in
Troians brest,
I had not bene
Antenors prise,
Nor thus bene thrall to noted vise.
The blome of blame had not bine spread,
The seede of shame had not bine sowne:
If Knightly prowes his minde had lead,
By rightfull force to keepe his owne.
[Page]I had not thralled bine to ill,
If he in Troy had kept me still.
My heauie hart and dolefull case,
Which craues your pitie not your spight:
Full well you know hath had no place,
If he had garded well his right.
I see your curtesie small, your store,
That blaze my plague to make it more.
You say in Troy I woulde not bee,
With gadding minde you charge me still:
When well you knowe that hie decree,
Did send me forth against my will.
Sith thus you triumph at my fall,
Ye ought to tell the cause withall.
If nought you ioy to blaze my blame,
You woulde not hunt for termes of spight,
Nor faine me cause of all the same,
Small honour wonne in such a fight.
For they that noble minded bee,
Will rue the case and pittie mee.
I well allowe your finall clause,
To gadde and runne doth blot the name,
But lay the fault vnto the cause,
And graunt him gilthy of the same.
Who bred the bud that pleased my foe,
That greeued my friendes and hurt me soe.
FJNJS.
Cressida.
That Loue is requited by disdaine.
JN searehe of things that secret are, my mated muse began,
What it might be, molested most the head and minde of man.
[Page 35]The bending brow of Princes face, to wrath that doth attend,
Or want of Parentes, wyfe or chylde, or losse of faithfull friend.
The roring of the Canon shot, that makes the peece to shake,
Or terrour such as mighty Ioue, from heauen aboue can make.
All these in fine may not compare, experience so doth proue,
Vnto the tormentes sharpe and straunge, of such as be in loue.
Loue lookes alofte, and laughes to scorne, all such as greefe anoy,
The more extreame their passions be, the greater is his ioy.
Thus loue as victor of the field, triumphes aboue the rest,
And ioyes to see his Subiectes lye with liuing death in brest.
But dire disdayne lets driue a shafte, and gaules this bragging foole,
He pluckes his plumes vnbendes his bowe, and sets him new to scoole
Whereby this boy that bragged late, as conquerour ouer all,
Now yeeldes himselfe vnto disdayne, his Vassall, and his thrall.
FJNJS.
W. Hunnis.
¶Of a contented state.
JN welth we see some welthy men, abound in welth most welthily,
In welth we see those men agayn, in welth do liue most wretchedly.
And yet of wealth hauing more store,
Then earst of wealth they had before.
These welthy mē do seme to want, they seme to wāt y
t most they haue,
The more posses, y
e more they craue, y
e more they craue y
e greater store
That most they haue, they think but skant.
Yet not content, wo be therefore.
The simple men that lesse welth haue, with lesser welth we se content,
Content are they twixt welth and scath, a life to leade indifferent.
And thus of wealth these men haue more,
Then those of which we spoke before.
FINIS.
W. Hunnis.
Being disdayned, he complayneth.
IF friendlesse faith? if guiltlesse thought may shielde?
If simple truth that neuer meant to swearue:
If deare desire accepted fruite doe yielde,
If greedy lust in loyall life doth searue.
Then may my playnt bewayle my heauie harme,
That seeking calme, haue stumbled on the storme.
My wonted cheare eclipsed by the cloude,
Of deepe disdayne, through errour of report:
If wearie woe enwrapped in the shrowde,
Lies slayne by tongue of the vnfriendly sort.
Yet heauen and earth, ayd all that Nature wrought,
I call to vowe of my vnspotted thought.
No shade I seeke in parte to shielde my taynte,
But simple truth I hunt no other sute:
On that I gape, the issue of my plainee,
If that I quaile, let Iustice me confute.
If that my place amongest the guiltlesse sort,
Repay by doome my name and good report.
Go heauie verse, pursue desyred grace,
Where pittie shrinde in cell of secret brest,
Awaits my haste, the rightfull lot to place,
And lothes to see the guiltlesse man opprest,
Whose vertues great, hath cround her more with fame,
Then kingly state, though largely shine the same.
FJNJS.
L. Ʋaux.
Of the meane estate.
THe higher that the Ceder tree, vnto the heauens doe grow,
The more in daunger is the top, when sturdy winds gan blowe,
[Page 35]Who Iudges then in princely throne, to be deuoyde of hate,
Doth not yet know what heapes of ill, lies hid in such estate.
Such dangers great, such gripes of mind, such toyle doe they sustain
That often times of God they wish, to be vnkingd agayn.
For as the huge and mighty rockes, withstand the raging seas,
So kingdomes in subiection be, whereas dame Fortune please,
Of brittle ioy, of smiling cheare, of hunny mixt with gall,
Alotted is to euery prince in freedome to be thrall.
What watches long, what sleepes vnsure, what greefe & care of mind
What bitter broiles, what endles toiles, to kingdomes be assignd.
The subiect then may well compare, with prince for plesant dayes,
Whose silent nigh brings quiet rest, whose steps no storme bewrayes
How much be we then bound to God, who such prouision makes,
To lay our cares vpon the Prince, thus doth he for our sakes,
To him therefore ler vs lift vp our hartes, and pray amayn,
That euery Prince that he hath plaste, may long in quiet raigne.
FJNIS,
W. H.
Of a contentcd minde.
VVHen all is done and sayd, in the end thus shall you finde,
The most of all doth bath in blisse, that hath a quiet minde.
And cleare from worldly cares to deeme can be content,
The sweetest time of all this life, in thinking to be spent.
The body subiect is, to fickle fortunes power,
And to a million of mishapps, is casuall euery hower:
And death in time doth chaunge it to a clodde of clay,
When as the minde which is deuine, runnes neuer to decay.
Companion none is like, vnto the minde alone,
For many haue bene harmd by speech, through thinking few or none,
Few often times restraineth wordes, but makes no thoughts to cease
And ste he speakes best that hath the skill, when for to hold his peace.
Our wealth leaues vs at death, our kinsmen at the graue,
But vertues of the mynde, vnto the heauens with vs haue.
Wherefore for vertues sake I can be well content,
The sweetest time of all my life, to decine in thinking spent.
FINIS.
L. Ʋaux.
Trie before you trust.
TO counsell my estate, abandonde to the spoyle,
Of forged friendes whose grosest fraude, it set with finest foyle.
To verifie true dealing wightes, whose trust no treason dreades,
And all to deare thacquaintaunce be, of such most harmefull heads.
I am aduised thus, who so doth friend, friend so,
As though to morrow next he feared, for to become a fo.
To haue a fayned friend, no perrill like I finde,
Oft flering face may mantell best, a mischeefe in the minde:
A payre of Aungels eares oft times doth hide a serpentes hearte,
Vnder whose gripes who so doth come, to late bewayles the smart.
Wherefore I doe aduise, who so doth friend, friend so,
As though to morrow next he should become a mortall fo.
Refuse respecting friendes, that courtly know to fayne,
For gold that winnes for golde, shall lose, the self same friend agayne.
The Quayle needes neuer feare: in Fowlers nets to fall,
If he would neuer bend his eare to listen to his call.
Therefore trust not to soone, but when you friend, friend so,
As though to morrow next, ye fearde for to become a fo.
FJNJS.
L. Ʋaux.
He renounceth all the affectes of Loue.
LIke as the Hart that lifteth vp his eares,
To heare the houndes that hath him in the chase,
Doth cast the winde, in daungers and in feares,
[Page 37]With flying foote, to passe away apace,
So must I flie of loue the vayne pursute,
Whereof the gaine is lesser then the fruite.
And I also must lothe those learing lookes,
Where loue doth lurke still with his subtle sleight,
With painted mocks, and inward hidden hookes,
To trappe by trust that lieth not in wayte,
The end whereof, assay it who so shall,
As sugred smart, and inward bitter gall.
And I must flie such Cirian songs,
Wherewith thac
Circes, Vlisses did enchaunt:
These wilie Wattes I meane, with filed tongues,
That hartes of steele haue power to daunt.
Who so as Hauke, that stoopeth to their call,
For most desarte, receiueth least of all.
But woe to me that firste behelde these eyes,
The trappe wherein I say that I was tane,
An outward salue, which inward me destroyes,
Whereto I runne, as Rat vnto her bane,
As to the fishe sometime it doth befall,
That with the bayte doth swallow hooke and all.
Within my brest wherewith I dayly fedde,
The vayne repast of amourous hote desyre:
With loytering lust so long that hath me fed,
Till he hath brought me to the flaming fyre.
In tyme as
Phenix endes her care and carkes.
I make the fire and burne my selfe with sparkes.
FJNIS.
L. Vaux.
Bethincking himselfe of his end; writeth thus.
WHen I behold the baier, my last and posting Horse,
That bare shall to the graue, my vile and carren corse.
Then say I seely wretche, why doest thou put thy trust,
In things eithe made of clay, that soone will turne to dust.
Doest thou not see the yong, the hardy and the fayre,
That now are past and gone, as though they neuer were,
Doest thou not see thy selfe, draw howerly to thy last,
As shaftes which that is shotte at byrdes that flieth fast.
Doest thou not see how death, through smyteth with his launce,
Some by warre, some by plague, and some by worldly chaunce,
What thing is there on earth, for pleasure that was made,
But goeth more swift away, then doth the Sommer shade.
Loe heare the Sommer flower, that sprong this other day,
But Wynter weareth as fast, and bloweth cleane away,
Euen so shalt thou consume, feom youth to lothsome age,
For death he doth not spare, the prince more then the page.
Thy house shalbe of clay a clotte vnder thy head,
Vntill the latter day the graue shall be thy bed.
Vntill the blowing tromp doth say to all and some,
Rise vp out of your graue, for now the Iudge is come.
FJNJS.
L. Vaux.
Being in loue he complayneth.
ENforst by loue and feare, to please and not offende,
Within the wordes you would me write, a message I must sende.
A wofull errand sure, a wretched man must write,
A wretched tale, a wofull head, besemeth to indite.
For what can he but wayle, that hath but all he would,
And yet that all is nought at all, but lack of all he should,
But lack of all his minde, what can be greater grefe,
That haue and lack that likes him best, must needes be most mischief.
Now foole what makes thee wayle, yet some might say full well,
That haste no harme but of thy self, as thou thy self canst tell.
To whome I aunswere thus, since all my harmes doe grow,
Vpon my self, so of my selfe, some happe may come I trow.
And since I see hoth hap and harme betides to me,
For present woe, my after blisse, will make me not forget thee,
Who hath a field of Golde, and may not come therein,
Must liue in hope till he haue force his treasure well to winne.
Whose ioyes by hope of dread, to conquere or to lose,
So great a wealth doth rise, and for example doth disclose,
To winne the golden Fleese, stoode
Iason not in dread,
Till that
Medeas hope of health, did giue him hope to speede.
Yet sure his mynde was much, and yet his feare the more,
That hath no happe but by your helpe, may happe for to restore,
The raging Bulles he dread, yet by his Ladies charme,
He knew it might be brought to passe, they could doe little harm.
Vnto whose grace yeeld he, as I doe offer me,
Into your handes to haue his happe not like him for to be,
But as King Priamus did yeeld him to the will,
Of Cressed false which him forsooke with Diomede to spill.
So I to you comend my fayth, and eake my ioy,
I hope you will not be so false, as Cressed was to
Troy.
For if I be vntrue, her Lazares death I wish,
And eake in thee if thou be false, her clapper and her dish.
FINIS.
R. L.
Being in trouble he writeth thus.
IN terrours trappe with thralldome thrust,
Their thornie thoughtes to taste and trie,
In conscience cleare, from cause vniust,
With carping teares did call and crie,
And sayd O God yet thou art he,
That canne and will deliuer me.
Bis.
Thus trembling there with teares I trod,
To totter tide in truthes defence.
[Page]With sighes and sobbes, I sayd O God,
Let right not haue this recompence.
Least that my foes might laugh to se,
That thou wouldest not deliuer me.
Bis.
My soule then to repentaunce ranne,
My ragged clothes all rent and torne,
And did bewayle the losse it wanne,
With lothsome life so long forlorne.
And sayd O God yet thou art he,
That can and will deliuer me.
Bis.
Then comfort came with clothes of ioy,
Whose seames were faithfull steadfastnesse:
And did bedecke the naked boy,
That earst was full of wretchednesse,
And sayd be glad, for God is hee,
That shortly will deliuer thee.
Biss
FJNJS.
W. H.
Being troubled in minde, he writeth as followeth.
THe bitter sweate, that straines my yeelded harte,
The carelesse count that doth the same imbrace,
The doubtfull hope to reape my due desarte,
The pensiue path that guides my restlesse race,
Are at such warre within my wounded brest,
As doeth bereaue my ioy and eake my rest.
My greedy will that seekes the golden gayne,
My luckelesse lotte, doth alway take in wroth:
My mated minde, that dreades my sutes in vayne,
My pittious playnt doth helpe to set it forth.
So that betweene two waues of raging Seas,
I driue my dayes in troubles and disease.
My wofull eyes doe take their cheefe delight,
To feede their fill vpon the pleasaunt maze,
My hidden harmes that grow in me by sight,
With pining paines doe driue me from the gaze,
And to my hope, I reape no other hyre,
But burne my self, and I doe blow the fire.
FINJS
I. Haywood.
Looke or you leape.
IF thou in surety safe wile sit,
If thou delight at rest to dwell,
Spende no more wordes then shall seeme fitte,
Let tongue in silence talke expell,
In all thinges that thou seest men bent,
See all say nought, hold thee content.
In worldly workes degrees are three,
Makers, doers, and lookers on,
The lookers on, haue libertie,
Both the others to iudge vpon,
Wherefore in all as men are bent,
See all, say naught, hold thee content.
The makers oft are in fault found,
The doers doubt of praise or shame,
The lookers on finde surest ground,
They haue the fruite yet free from blame,
This doth perswade in all here ment,
See all, say naught, holde thee content.
The Prouerbe is not South and West,
Which hath bee sayd long time agoe:
Of little medling commeth rest,
The busie man neuer wanteth woe.
The best way is, in all worlds sent,
Se all, say naught, hold thee content.
FJNJS.
J. Haywood.
A description of the world.
WHat is this world, a net to snare the soule,
A mas of sinne, a desert of deceite,
A momentes ioy, an age of wretched dole,
A lure from grace, for flesh a lothsome bayre.
Vnto the minde a canker worme of care,
Vnsure, vniust, in rendring man his share.
A place where pride orerunnes the honest minde,
Where rich men ioynes to robbe the shiftlesse wretch,
Where bribing mistes doe blinde the Iudges eyes,
Where Parasites the fattest crums do catch,
Where good desartes which chalenge like reward,
Are ouer blowne with blastes of light regard,
And what is men? dust, slime, a puffe of wynde,
Conceaude in sinne, plaste in the world with greefe,
Brought vp with care, till care hath caught his minde,
And then till death vouchsafe him some releefe.
Day, yea nor night, his care doth take an ende,
To gather goods for other men to spende.
Oh foolish man that art in office plaste,
Thinke whence thou camste, and whether thou shalt go,
The haute hie Okes, small windes haue ouercast,
When slender weedes in roughest weather groe,
Euen so pale death oft spares the wretched wight,
And woundeth you, who wallow in delight.
You lusty youthes that nourish hie desire,
Abase your plumes, which makes you looke so bigge,
The Collyers Cut the Courtiers Steede will tyre,
Euen so the Clarke, the parsons graue doth digge,
Whoso happe is yet here long life to winne,
Doth heape God wot, but sorrow vpon sinne.
And to be short, all sortes of men take heede,
The Thunderboltes the lofty towers tare,
The lightning flashe consumes the house of Reede,
Yea more in time all earthly thinges will weare,
Saue only man, who as his earthly time is,
Shall liue in woe, or else in endlesse blisse.
FJNJS.
G. G.
Being in Loue, he complaineth.
MY haute desyre, to hye that seeketh rest,
My feare to find, where hope my help should giue,
My sighes and plaintes sent from vnquiet brest,
The hardned hart that will not truth beleeue,
Bids me dispayre, and Reason saith to me,
Forsake for shame, the sute that shameth thee,
But when mine eyes behold the alluring cayes,
Which only me to Cupids spoyle haue trainde,
Desyre a new doth worke his wonted wayes,
Thus shall I freeze, and yet I frye in payne,
O quenchlesse fyre to quayle and quick agayn.
Such is the flame, where burning loue doth last,
As hye ne low can beare with reasons bitte,
And such is loue, wherein is setled fast,
That naught but death can ease his feruent fitte,
Then cannot I, nor loue will me forsake,
Sweete is the death, that faithfull loue doth make,
FINIS.
M. Edwardes.
The Complaint of a sinner.
O Heauenly God, O Father deare, cast downe thy tender eye,
Vpon a wretch that prostrate heare before thy face doth lye.
[Page]O powre thy precious Oyle of grace into my wounded hart,
O lette the droppes of mercy swage the rigor of my smart.
My faynting soule suppressed sore, with carefull clogge of sinne,
In humble sorte submits it selfe, thy mercy for to winne,
Graunt mercy then O Sauiour sweete to me most wofull thrall,
Whose mornefull crie to thee O Lord, doth still for mercy call.
Thy blessed will I haue despised vpon a stubborne mynde,
And to the sway of worldly thinges, my selfe I haue inclinde,
Forgetting heuen, and heauenly powers, where god & saints do dwel,
My life had like to tread the path, that leades the way to hell.
But now my Lord, my lodestarre bright, I will no more doe so,
To thinke vpon my former life, my hart doth melt for wo.
Alas I sigh, Alas I sobbe, alas I doe repent,
That euer my licencious will so wickedly was bent.
Sith thus therefore with earnefull plaint, I doe thy mercy craue,
O Lord for thy great mercies sake, let me thy mercy haue.
Restore to life the wretched soule that else is like to die,
So shall my voyce vnto thy name, sing prayse eternally.
Now blessed be the father first, and blessed be the Sonne,
And blessed be the holy Ghost, by whom all thinges are done.
Blesse me O blessed Trinitie, with thy eternall grace,
That after death my soule may haue in heauen a dwelling place.
FJNJS.
F. Kindlemarshe.
The fruite that springes from wilfull wits, is ruth and ruines rage,
And sure what headlesse youth commits, repentaunce rues in age.
J Rage in restlesse youth, and ruines rule my dayes,
I rue (to late) my rechlesse youth, by rules of reasons wayes,
I ranne so long a race in search of surest way,
That leisure learnde me tread the trace that lead to leude decay.
I gaue so large a rayne to vnrestrayned bitte,
That now with proofe of after payne, I wayle my wante of witte.
[Page 51]I trifled forth the time, with trust to selfe conceites,
Whilste plenties vse prickt forth my tyme, to seeke for sugred baites,
Wherein once learnde to finde, I found so sweete a tast,
That due foresight of after speede, selfe will esteemed wast.
Which will through wilfulnesse, hath wrought my witlesse fall,
And heedelesse youthes vnskilfulnesse, hath lapt my life in thrall.
Whereby by proofe I know, that pleasure breedeth payne,
And he that euill seede doth sow, euill fruite must reape agayne,
Let such therefore whose youth and purses are in prime,
Foresee and shunne the helpelesse ruth, which sues mispence of time,
For want is next to waste, and shame doth sinne ensue,
Euill speeding proofe hath heedelesse hast, my self haue proued it true,
When neighboures next house burnes, tis time there of take heede,
For fortunes wheele hath choyse of turnes, which change of chaunces breede,
My saile hath bene aloft, though now I beare but low,
Who climbes so high seeld falleth soft, deadst ebbe hath highest flow,
FINJS.
ꝙ.
Yloop.
¶ An Epitaph vpon the death of syr William Drury, Knight, Lord Justice and Gouernour of Yreland, deceased at Waterford the thyrd of October. An. Do. 1579.
JN place where wantes
Apollo with his Lute,
There peeuish
Pan may prease to pipe a daunce,
Where men of skill and learned Clarkes are mute,
There Fooles may prate, and hit the truth perchaunce,
Why spare I then to speake, when all are mumme,
And vertue left forgot in time to come.
Giue pardon then to him that takes in hande,
Though neuer taught with Poets pen to write,
Will yet presume, to let you vnderstand,
No straunge euent, although a sieldome sight,
Which late I saw, a dolefull tale to tell,
And followeth thus, then marke how it befell.
I saw
Report in mourning weede arayde,
Whose blubbered eyes bewrayde some secret greefe,
[...]
[...]
[Page]Besprent with teares, with sighes and sobbes he sayd,
You martiall wights abandone all releefe,
Come wayle with me, whose losse is not alone,
When you your selues haue greatest cause to mone.
For
Drurie he, the choyse of all your trayne,
Your greatest guyde, and lampe of clearest light,
The only man
Bellona did retayne,
Her Champyon chefe, and made syr
Mars his knight.
Euen he is now bereaued of his breath,
Tis you, tis you, may most lament his death.
Then might I see, a warlik crew appeare,
Came marching on with weapons traylde on ground,
Their outward show bewrayde their inward cheare,
Their droms and tromps did yeeld a dolefull sound,
They marched thus in sad and solemne sort,
As men amasde to heare this late
Report.
And in the midst of this their heauy muse,
I might perceiue in sight a worthy Dame,
Who by her speech and tenure of her newes,
I knew her well, and saw twas Lady
Fame.
With Tromp in hand, and thus me thought she sed,
You worthy wights, your
Drurie is not dead.
He liueth he, amongst the blessed route,
Whose noble actes hath purchaste endlesse fame:
Whylste world doth last, no time shall weare him out,
Nor death for all his spight abridge his name,
But
Drurie still for euer shall remayne,
His Fame shall liue, in
Flaunders, Fraunce, and
Spayne.
The
Germanes eke,
Italyans, and the rest,
Can well discourse of
Druries deedes at large,
With whome he serude, a Champyon ready prest,
At all assaultes, the formost to giue charge,
In many a fraye, himselfe he did aduaunce,
Tweene
Charles of
Rome, and
Henrie King of
Fraunce.
In vayne to vaunt, the credite he attaynde,
In natiue soyle, where he was knowne so well,
[Page 51]And
Brute hath blowne, what glory he hath gaynde,
In Scotish Land, where they themselues can tell,
In
Edenbrough he wan there Mayden tower,
By fyrst assault, perforce the scotishe power.
But
Ireland thou, thou thrise accursed soyle,
Thy luck is losse, thy fortune still withstoode,
What mischiefe more, to worke thy greater spoyle,
Then losse of him that ment thee greatest good,
Yet canst thou say, syr
Druries noble name,
In
Ireland still shall bide in lasting fame.
Wherefore you worthy wightes, leaue of to wayle,
Your
Drury liues, his fame for aye shall last,
His vertues byde, though wretched lyfe do fayle,
And taking then her Tromp, she blewe a blast,
Which sounded more his prayse, then I can write,
Or with my tongue expresse in order right.
Then might I heare the Souldyers giue a shoute,
The sounde whereof, redounded in the skie,
Great ioy was made amongst the armed route,
With streined throtes then all at once they cry,
He liues, he liues, our
Drurie is not deed,
His vertues rare, by Fame shall still be spread.
In order then, themselues they did retire,
Their weapons vaunst, with Ensignes braue displayde,
What would you more?
Report is made a lyer,
Syr
Drurie liues, sufficeth what is sayde.
What though his Corpes entombed be in clay,
His vertues shyne, that neuer shall decay.
‘
Ʋiuit post funaera virtus.’
Finis.
1580.