University of Virginia Library

T. Ch. In prayse of Gascoignes Posies.

Though goodnesse of the gold, needes no mans praise ye know,
(And every coyne is judgde and found, by weight, by stamp, or show)
Yet doth the prayse of men, give gold a double grace,
And makes both pearls and Jewels rich desirde in every place.
The horse full finely formde, whose pace and traine is true,
Is more esteemde for good report, than likte for shape and view.
Yea sure, ech man himselfe, for all his wit and skill,
(If world bestow no lawde on him) may sleepe in silence still.
Fame shewes the value first, of everie precious thing,
And winnes with lyking all the brute, that doth the credit bring.
And fame makes way before, to workes that are unknowne,
And peoples love is caried ther, where fame hir trump hath blown.
A cunning workman fine, in Cloyster close may sit,
And carve or paint a thousand things, and use both art and wit,
Yet wanting worldes renowne, may scape unsought or seene:
It is but fame that outruns all, and gets the goall I weene.
The learned Doctors lawd, that heales where other harmes,
By cōmon prayse of peoples voyce, brings pacients in by swarmes.
A goodly stately house, hath seldome any fame,
Till world behold the buildings through, and people see the same.
The Flowers and Posies sweete, in better price are held,
When those have praysde their vertues rare, that have their odor smeld.
So by these foresayd proofes, I have a pardon free,
To speake, to write, and make discourse, of any worke I see,
That worthie is of prayse: for prayse is all we get.
Present the worlde with labors great, the world is in your det,
It never yeeldes rewarde, nor scarce just prayse will give:
Then studie out to stand on fame, and strive by fame to live.
Our olde forefathers wise, saw long before these dayes,
How sone faint world would fail deserts, and cold would wax our prayse.
And knowing that disdeyne, for toyle did rather rise,
Than right renowne (whose goldē buds, growes up to starry skies)
Betooke their labors long, and every act they did,
Unto the Gods, from whose deepe sight, no secret can be hid.
And these good gracious Gods, sent downe from heavens hie,
(For noble minds) an endlesse fame, that throw the world doth flie.
Which fame is due to those, that seeke by new device,
To honor learning every way, and Vertue bring in price.
From Knowledge gardeyn gay, where science sowes hir seedes,
A pretie Posie gathered is, of Flowers, Hearbes, and Weedes.
The Flowers by smel are found, the hearbs their goodnes showes,
The Weedes amid both hearbs & flowers, in decēt order growes.
The soft and tender nose, that can no weedes abide,
May make his choise of holesome hearbes, whose vertues well are tride.
The fine and flowing wittes, that feede on straunge delites,
May tast (for seasning daintie mouthes) the bitter weede that bites:
The well disposed minde, and honest meaning man,
Shall finde (in floures) proude Peacoks plumes, and feathers of the Swan.
The curst and crabbed Carle, that Posies flings away,
By this (perhaps) may find some cause, with prettie floures to play.
The kinde and loving worme, that woulde his ladie please,
M[a]y light on some such medcin here, shal do them both much ease.
The Lad that lykes the schoole, and will good warning take:
May snatch some rules oute of this booke, that may him doctor make.
The hastie travayling head, that flies to foreyne place,
May wey by this what home is woorth, and stay his roving race.
The manly courage stoute, that seeketh fame full farre,
Shall find by this how sweete is peace, and see how soure is warre.
This Posie is so pickt, and choysely sorted throw,
There is no Flower, Herbe, nor Weede, but serves some purpose now.
Then since it freely comes, to you for little cost,
Take well in worth these paynes of him, that thinkes no labor lost:
To do his countrie good, as many others have,
Who for their toyles a good report, of worlde did onely crave.
Grudge not to yeeld some fame, for fruites that you receyve,
Make some exchaunge for franke good will, some signe or token leave,
To shew your thankfull harts. For if you love to take,
And have a conscience growne so great, you can no gift forsake,
And cannot give againe, that men deserve to reape,
Adieu we leave you in the hedge, and ore the stile we leape.
And yet some stile or verse, we after shape in ryme,
That may by arte shewe you a Glasse, to see your selves in tyme.
Thus wish I men their right: and you that judge amisse,
To mend your minds, or frame your Muse, to make the like of this.