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A praise of Audley.
When Audley had runne out his race and ended wer his days,His fame stept forth & bad me write of hī some worthy praise.
What life he lad, what actes he did: his vertues & good name,
Wherto I calde for true report, as witnes of the same.
A skilfull head, a valiant hert, a ready hand to serue.
Brought vp & trained in feats of war long time beyond the seas
Cald home again to serue his prince whō styll he sought to please.
What tornay was there he refusde, what seruice did he shone,
Where he was not nor his aduice, what great exploit was done,
In towne a lambe in felde full fierce a lyon at the nede,
In sober wit a Salomon, yet one of Hectors sede.
Then shame it were that any tong shold now defame his dedes
That in his life a mirror was to all that him succedes.
No pore estate nor hie renowne his nature could peruart,
No hard mischaunce that him befel could moue his constant hart.
Thus long he liued loued of all as one mislikt of none,
And where he went who cald him not the gentle Peragon.
But course of kinde doth cause eche frute to fall whē it is ripe,
And spitefull death will suffer none to scape his greuous gripe.
Yet though the ground receiued haue his corps into her wombe,
This epitaphe ygraue in brasse, shall stand vpon his tombe.
Lo here he lies that hateth vice, and vertues life imbrast,
His name in earth his sprite aboue deserues to be well plast.
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