The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton For the First Time Collected and Edited: With Memorial-Introduction, Notes and Illustrations, Glossarial Index, Facsimilies, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart. In Two Volumes |
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| I. | I.—From ‘The Phœnix Nest:’
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| II. |
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 | The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton |  |
3
I.—From ‘The Phœnix Nest:’
1593.
The Preamble to N. B. His Garden Plot.
Sweete fellow whom I sware, such sure affected loue,
As neither weale, nor woe, nor want, can from my minde remoue.
To thee, my fellow sweete, this wofull tale I tell,
To let thee see the darke distresse, wherein my minde doth dwel.
As neither weale, nor woe, nor want, can from my minde remoue.
To thee, my fellow sweete, this wofull tale I tell,
To let thee see the darke distresse, wherein my minde doth dwel.
On loathêd bed I lay, my lustlesse lims to rest,
Where still I tumble to and fro, to seeke which side were best:
At last I catch a place, where long I cannot lie,
But strange conceits from quiet sleepes, do keep awake mine eie.
Where still I tumble to and fro, to seeke which side were best:
At last I catch a place, where long I cannot lie,
But strange conceits from quiet sleepes, do keep awake mine eie.
The time of yeere me seemes, doth bid me (slouen) rise,
And not from shew of sweete delight, to shut my sleepie eies:
But sorrow by and by, doth bid me, slaue, lie still,
And slug amonst the wretchèd souls, whom care doth seek to kil.
And not from shew of sweete delight, to shut my sleepie eies:
But sorrow by and by, doth bid me, slaue, lie still,
And slug amonst the wretchèd souls, whom care doth seek to kil.
For sorow is my spring, which brings forth bitter teares,
The fruits of friendship all forlorne, as feeble fancie feares.
The fruits of friendship all forlorne, as feeble fancie feares.
A Strange Description of a Rare Garden Plot. Written by N. B. Gent.
My garden ground of griefe; where selfewils seeds are sowne,
Whereof comes vp the weedes of wo, that ioies haue ouergrown:
With patience palèd round, to keep in secret spright;
And quickset round about with care, to keepe out all delight.
Whereof comes vp the weedes of wo, that ioies haue ouergrown:
With patience palèd round, to keep in secret spright;
And quickset round about with care, to keepe out all delight.
Foure quarters squarèd out, I finde in sundrie sort;
Whereof according to their kindes, I meane to make report:
The first, the knot of loue, drawne euen by desier,
Like as it were two harts in one, and yet both would be nier.
Whereof according to their kindes, I meane to make report:
The first, the knot of loue, drawne euen by desier,
Like as it were two harts in one, and yet both would be nier.
The herbe is calde Isop, the iuice of such a taste,
As with the sowre, makes sweete conceits to flie away too fast:
The borders round about, are set with priuie sweete,
Where nueer bird but nightingale, presumde to set hir feete.
As with the sowre, makes sweete conceits to flie away too fast:
The borders round about, are set with priuie sweete,
Where nueer bird but nightingale, presumde to set hir feete.
From this I stept aside, vnto the knot of care,
Which so was crost with strange cōceits, as tong cannot declare:
The herbe was callèd Time, which set out all that knot.
And like a Maze me thought it was, when in the crookes I got.
Which so was crost with strange cōceits, as tong cannot declare:
The herbe was callèd Time, which set out all that knot.
And like a Maze me thought it was, when in the crookes I got.
The borders round about, are Sauerie vnsweete:
An herbe not much, in my conceit, for such a knot vnmeete:
From this to friendships knot, I stept and tooke the view,
How it was drawne, and then againe, in order how it grew.
An herbe not much, in my conceit, for such a knot vnmeete:
From this to friendships knot, I stept and tooke the view,
How it was drawne, and then againe, in order how it grew.
The course was not vnlike, a kinde of hand in hand:
But many fingers were away, that there should seeme to stand:
The herbe that set the knot, was Pennie Riall round:
And as me seem'd, it grew full close, and nere vnto the ground.
But many fingers were away, that there should seeme to stand:
The herbe that set the knot, was Pennie Riall round:
And as me seem'd, it grew full close, and nere vnto the ground.
And parchèd heere and there, so that it seemèd not
Full as it should haue been in deed, a perfect friendship knot:
Heerat I pawsd awhile, and tooke a little view
Of an od quarter drawne in beds, where herbs and flowers grew.
Full as it should haue been in deed, a perfect friendship knot:
Heerat I pawsd awhile, and tooke a little view
Of an od quarter drawne in beds, where herbs and flowers grew.
The flowres were buttons fine, for batchelors to beare,
And by those flowres ther grew an herb, was callèd maiden hear.
And by those flowres ther grew an herb, was callèd maiden hear.
Amid this garden ground, a Condit strange I found,
Which water fetcht from sorows spring, to water al the ground:
To this my heauie house, the dungeon of distresse,
Where fainting hart lies panting still, despairing of redresse.
Which water fetcht from sorows spring, to water al the ground:
To this my heauie house, the dungeon of distresse,
Where fainting hart lies panting still, despairing of redresse.
Where from this window loe, this sad prospect I haue,
A piece of ground whereon to gaze, would bring one to his graue:
Lo thus the welcome spring, that others landes delight,
Doth make me die, to thinke I lie, thus drownèd in despight.
A piece of ground whereon to gaze, would bring one to his graue:
Lo thus the welcome spring, that others landes delight,
Doth make me die, to thinke I lie, thus drownèd in despight.
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That vp I cannot rise, and come abrode to thee,
My fellow sweet, with whom God knowes, how oft I wish to bee:
And thus in haste, adieu, my hart is growne so sore;
And care so crookes my fingers ends, that I can write no more.
My fellow sweet, with whom God knowes, how oft I wish to bee:
And thus in haste, adieu, my hart is growne so sore;
And care so crookes my fingers ends, that I can write no more.
An Excellent Dreame of Ladies and their Riddles: By N. B. Gent.
In Orchard grounds, where store of fruit trees grew,
Me thought a Saint was walking all alone,
Of euerie tree, she seemd to take hir view,
But in the end, she pluckèd but of one:
This fruit quoth she, doth like my fancie best:
Sweetings are fruit, but let that apple rest.
Me thought a Saint was walking all alone,
Of euerie tree, she seemd to take hir view,
But in the end, she pluckèd but of one:
This fruit quoth she, doth like my fancie best:
Sweetings are fruit, but let that apple rest.
Such fruit (quoth I) shall fancie chiefly feede:
Indeede tis faire, God grant it prooue as good,
But take good heede, least all to late it breede
Ill humors, such as may infect your blood:
Yet take, and taste, but looke you know the tree:
Peace, foole quoth she, and so awakèd mee.
Indeede tis faire, God grant it prooue as good,
But take good heede, least all to late it breede
Ill humors, such as may infect your blood:
Yet take, and taste, but looke you know the tree:
Peace, foole quoth she, and so awakèd mee.
What was this ground, wherein this dame did walke?
And what was she, that romèd to and fro?
And what ment I, to vse such kinde of talke?
And what ment she, to checke and snib me so?
But what meane I? alas, I was asleepe:
Awake I sweare, I will more silence keepe.
And what was she, that romèd to and fro?
And what ment I, to vse such kinde of talke?
And what ment she, to checke and snib me so?
But what meane I? alas, I was asleepe:
Awake I sweare, I will more silence keepe.
Well thus I wakte and fell asleepe againe:
And then I fell into another vaine.
And then I fell into another vaine.
Great wars me thought grew late by strange mishap,
Desire had stolne out of Dianaes traine,
Her darling deere, and laid on Venus lap,
Who, Cupid sware should neuer backe againe.
Ere he would so loose all his harts delight,
He vow'd to die, wherewith began a fight.
Desire had stolne out of Dianaes traine,
Her darling deere, and laid on Venus lap,
Who, Cupid sware should neuer backe againe.
Ere he would so loose all his harts delight,
He vow'd to die, wherewith began a fight.
Diana shot, and Cupid shot againe:
Fame sounded out hir trumpe with heauenly cheare:
Hope was ill hurt, despite was onely slaine:
Diana forst in fine for to retire.
Cupid caught fame, and brought hir to his frend.
The trumpet ceast, and so my dreame did end.
Fame sounded out hir trumpe with heauenly cheare:
Hope was ill hurt, despite was onely slaine:
Diana forst in fine for to retire.
Cupid caught fame, and brought hir to his frend.
The trumpet ceast, and so my dreame did end.
Thus scarce awake, I fell asleepe againe,
And then I was within a garden ground,
Beset with flowres, the allies euen and plaine:
And all the banks beset with roses round,
And sundrie flowres so super sweete of smell,
As there me thought it was a heauen to dwell.
And then I was within a garden ground,
Beset with flowres, the allies euen and plaine:
And all the banks beset with roses round,
And sundrie flowres so super sweete of smell,
As there me thought it was a heauen to dwell.
Where walking long, anon I gan espie
Sweete pretie soules, that pluckt ech one a flowre:
When from their sight I hid me by and by,
Behinde a banke within a brier bowre.
Where after walke, I saw them where they sat:
Beheld their hues, and heard their pretie chat:
Sweete pretie soules, that pluckt ech one a flowre:
When from their sight I hid me by and by,
Behinde a banke within a brier bowre.
Where after walke, I saw them where they sat:
Beheld their hues, and heard their pretie chat:
Sister quoth one, how shall we spend this day?
Deuise (quoth she) some pretie merie iest:
Content quoth one, beshrew them that say nay:
Some purposes or riddles I thinke best:
Riddles cried all, and so the sport begun:
Forfet a fillop, she that first hath done.
Deuise (quoth she) some pretie merie iest:
Content quoth one, beshrew them that say nay:
Some purposes or riddles I thinke best:
Riddles cried all, and so the sport begun:
Forfet a fillop, she that first hath done.
Loe thus awhile was curtsey to propound;
Yet in the end this order did they take,
By two and two, they should sit close and round;
And one begin, another answere make:
Where ridling sports in order as I can,
I will recite; and thus the first began.
Yet in the end this order did they take,
By two and two, they should sit close and round;
And one begin, another answere make:
Where ridling sports in order as I can,
I will recite; and thus the first began.
The First Riddle.
Within a gallant plot of ground,
There growes a flowre that hath no name,
The like whereof was neuer found,
And none but one can plucke the same:
Now where this ground or flowre doth growe,
Or who that one, tis hard to knowe.
There growes a flowre that hath no name,
The like whereof was neuer found,
And none but one can plucke the same:
Now where this ground or flowre doth growe,
Or who that one, tis hard to knowe.
The Answere.
Sister (quoth she) if thou wouldst knowe,
This ground, this flowre, and happle man,
Walke in this garden to and fro:
Here you shall see them now and than:
Which when you finde to your delight,
Then thinke I hit your riddle right.
This ground, this flowre, and happle man,
Walke in this garden to and fro:
Here you shall see them now and than:
Which when you finde to your delight,
Then thinke I hit your riddle right.
The Second Riddle.
Within a field there growes a flowre,
That decks the ground where as it growes,
It springs and falls, both in an howre,
And but at certaine times it showes:
It neuer dies, and seldome seene,
And tis a Nosegay for a Queene.
That decks the ground where as it growes,
It springs and falls, both in an howre,
And but at certaine times it showes:
It neuer dies, and seldome seene,
And tis a Nosegay for a Queene.
The Answere.
This field is fauor, Grace the ground,
Whence springs the flowre of curtesie,
Soone growne and gone, though somtime found,
Not dead, but hid, from flattrers eie,
That pickthanks may not plucke the same:
Thus haue I red your riddle Dame.
Whence springs the flowre of curtesie,
Soone growne and gone, though somtime found,
Not dead, but hid, from flattrers eie,
That pickthanks may not plucke the same:
Thus haue I red your riddle Dame.
The Third Riddle.
Within a flowre a seede there growes,
Which somtime falls, but seldome springs,
And if it spring, it seldome blowes,
And if it blowe, no sweete it brings,
And therefore counted but a weede:
Now gesse the flowre, and what the seede.
Which somtime falls, but seldome springs,
And if it spring, it seldome blowes,
And if it blowe, no sweete it brings,
And therefore counted but a weede:
Now gesse the flowre, and what the seede.
The Answere.
In fancies flowre is sorrowes seede,
Which somtimes fall, but springs but seeld,
And if it spring, tis but a weede,
Which doth no sweete, nor sauor yeeld;
And yet the flowre, both faire and sweete,
And for a Princes garden meete.
Which somtimes fall, but springs but seeld,
And if it spring, tis but a weede,
Which doth no sweete, nor sauor yeeld;
And yet the flowre, both faire and sweete,
And for a Princes garden meete.
The Fourth Riddle.
Within a seede doth poison lurke,
Which onely Spiders feede vpon,
And yet the Bee can wisely woorke,
To sucke out honie, poison gone:
Which honie, poison, Spider, Bee,
Are hard to gesse, yet eath to see.
Which onely Spiders feede vpon,
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To sucke out honie, poison gone:
Which honie, poison, Spider, Bee,
Are hard to gesse, yet eath to see.
The Answere.
In sorrowes seede is secret paine,
Which spite, the Spider, onely sucks,
Which poison gone, then wittie braine
The wilie Bee, hir honie plucks,
And beares it to hir hiue vnhurt,
When spider trod, dies in the durt.
Which spite, the Spider, onely sucks,
Which poison gone, then wittie braine
The wilie Bee, hir honie plucks,
And beares it to hir hiue vnhurt,
When spider trod, dies in the durt.
Gramercie, wench (quoth she) that first begoon,
Each one me seemes hath quit hir selfe right well,
And now since that our riddles all are doon,
Let vs go sing the flowre of sweetest smell:
Well may it fare, wherewith each tooke a part,
And thus they soong, all with a merie hart.
Each one me seemes hath quit hir selfe right well,
And now since that our riddles all are doon,
Let vs go sing the flowre of sweetest smell:
Well may it fare, wherewith each tooke a part,
And thus they soong, all with a merie hart.
Blest be the ground that first brought forth the flowre,
Whose name vntolde, but vertues not vnknowne:
Happie the hand, whom God shall giue the powre,
To plucke this flowre, and take it for his owne:
Oh heauenly stalke, that staines all where it growes:
From whom more sweet, than sweetest hony flowes.
Whose name vntolde, but vertues not vnknowne:
Happie the hand, whom God shall giue the powre,
To plucke this flowre, and take it for his owne:
Oh heauenly stalke, that staines all where it growes:
From whom more sweet, than sweetest hony flowes.
Oh sweete of sweetes, the sweetest sweete that is:
Oh flowre of flowres, that yeelds so sweete a sent:
Oh sent so sweete, as when the head shall misse:
Oh heauens what hart but that will sore lament:
God let thee spring, and flourish so each howre,
As that our sweetes may neuer turne to sowre.
Oh flowre of flowres, that yeelds so sweete a sent:
Oh sent so sweete, as when the head shall misse:
Oh heauens what hart but that will sore lament:
God let thee spring, and flourish so each howre,
As that our sweetes may neuer turne to sowre.
For we with sweetes doe feede our fancies so,
With sweetes of sight, and sweetnes of conceit,
That we may wish that it may euer groe,
Amid delights where we desire to wait,
Vpon the flowre that pleaseth euerie eie,
And glads each hart; God let it neuer die.
With sweetes of sight, and sweetnes of conceit,
That we may wish that it may euer groe,
Amid delights where we desire to wait,
Vpon the flowre that pleaseth euerie eie,
And glads each hart; God let it neuer die.
Wherewith me thought alowd I cride, Amen:
And therewithall I started out of sleepe:
Now what became of these faire Ladies then,
I cannot tell, in minde I onely keepe
These ridling toies which heere I do recite:
Ile tell ye more perhaps another night.
And therewithall I started out of sleepe:
Now what became of these faire Ladies then,
I cannot tell, in minde I onely keepe
These ridling toies which heere I do recite:
Ile tell ye more perhaps another night.
The Chesse Play. Very aptly deuised By N. B. Gent.
A Secret many yeeres vnseene,
In play at Chesse, who knowes the game,
First of the King, and then the Queene,
Knight, Bishop, Rooke, and so by name,
Of euerie Pawne I will descrie,
The nature with the qualitie.
The King.
In play at Chesse, who knowes the game,
First of the King, and then the Queene,
Knight, Bishop, Rooke, and so by name,
Of euerie Pawne I will descrie,
The nature with the qualitie.
The King himselfe is haughtie Care,
Which ouerlooketh all his men,
And when he seeth how they fare,
He steps among them now and then,
Whom when his foe presumes to checke,
His seruants stand, to giue the necke.
Which ouerlooketh all his men,
And when he seeth how they fare,
He steps among them now and then,
Whom when his foe presumes to checke,
His seruants stand, to giue the necke.
The Queene.
The Queene is queint, and quicke Conceit,
Which makes hir walke which way she list,
And rootes them vp, that lie in wait
To worke hir treason, ere she wist:
Hir force is such, against hir foes,
That whom she meetes, she ouerthrowes.
Which makes hir walke which way she list,
And rootes them vp, that lie in wait
To worke hir treason, ere she wist:
Hir force is such, against hir foes,
That whom she meetes, she ouerthrowes.
The Knight.
The Knight is knowledge how to fight
Against his Princes enimies,
He neuer makes his walke outright,
But leaps and skips, in wilie wise,
To take by sleight a traitrous foe,
Might slilie seeke their ouerthrowe.
Against his Princes enimies,
He neuer makes his walke outright,
But leaps and skips, in wilie wise,
To take by sleight a traitrous foe,
Might slilie seeke their ouerthrowe.
The Bishop.
The Bishop he is wittie braine,
That chooseth Crossest pathes to pace,
And euermore he pries with paine,
To see who seekes him most disgrace:
Such straglers when he findes astraie,
He takes them vp, and throwes awaie.
That chooseth Crossest pathes to pace,
And euermore he pries with paine,
To see who seekes him most disgrace:
Such straglers when he findes astraie,
He takes them vp, and throwes awaie.
The Rookes.
The Rookes are reason on both sides,
Which keepe the corner houses still,
And warily stand to watch their tides,
By secret art to worke their will,
To take sometime a theefe vnseene,
Might mischiefe meane to King or Queene.
Which keepe the corner houses still,
And warily stand to watch their tides,
By secret art to worke their will,
To take sometime a theefe vnseene,
Might mischiefe meane to King or Queene.
The Pawnes.
The Pawne before the King, is peace,
Which he desires to keepe at home,
Practise, the Queenes, which doth not cease
Amid the world abroad to roame,
To finde, and fall vpon each foe,
Whereas his mistres meanes to goe.
Which he desires to keepe at home,
Practise, the Queenes, which doth not cease
Amid the world abroad to roame,
To finde, and fall vpon each foe,
Whereas his mistres meanes to goe.
Before the Knight, is perill plast,
Which he, by skipping ouergoes,
And yet that Pawne can worke a cast,
To ouerthrow his greatest foes;
The Bishops, prudence, prieng still,
Which way to worke his masters will.
Which he, by skipping ouergoes,
And yet that Pawne can worke a cast,
To ouerthrow his greatest foes;
The Bishops, prudence, prieng still,
Which way to worke his masters will.
The Rookes poore Pawnes, are sillie swaines,
Which seeldome serue, except by hap,
And yet those Pawnes, can lay their traines,
To catch a great man, in a trap:
So that I see, sometime a groome
May not be sparèd from his roome.
Which seeldome serue, except by hap,
And yet those Pawnes, can lay their traines,
To catch a great man, in a trap:
So that I see, sometime a groome
May not be sparèd from his roome.
The Nature of the Chesse men.
The King is stately, looking hie;
The Queene, doth beare like maiestie:
The Knight, is hardie, valiant, wise:
The Bishop, prudent and precise:
The Rookes, no raungers out of raie,
The Pawnes, the pages in the plaie.
The Queene, doth beare like maiestie:
6
The Bishop, prudent and precise:
The Rookes, no raungers out of raie,
The Pawnes, the pages in the plaie.
Lenvoy.
Then rule with care, and quicke conceit,
And fight with knowledge, as with force;
So beare a braine, to dash deceit,
And worke with reason and remorse:
Forgiue a fault, when yoong men plaie,
So giue a mate, and go your way.
And fight with knowledge, as with force;
So beare a braine, to dash deceit,
And worke with reason and remorse:
Forgiue a fault, when yoong men plaie,
So giue a mate, and go your way.
And when you plaie beware of Checke,
Know how to saue and giue a necke:
And with a Checke, beware of Mate;
But cheefe, ware had I wist too late:
Loose not the Queene, for ten to one,
If she be lost, the game is gone.
Know how to saue and giue a necke:
And with a Checke, beware of Mate;
But cheefe, ware had I wist too late:
Loose not the Queene, for ten to one,
If she be lost, the game is gone.
A Most Excellent Passion. Set Downe By N. B. Gent.
Com yonglings com, that seem to make such mone,
About a thing of nothing God he knowes:
With sighes and sobs, and many a greeuous grone,
And trickling teares, that secret sorow shewes,
Leaue, leaue to faine, and here behold indeed,
The onely man, may make your harts to bleed.
About a thing of nothing God he knowes:
With sighes and sobs, and many a greeuous grone,
And trickling teares, that secret sorow shewes,
Leaue, leaue to faine, and here behold indeed,
The onely man, may make your harts to bleed.
Whose state to tell; no, neuer toong can tell:
Whose woes are such; oh no, there are none such:
Whose hap so hard; nay rather halfe a hell:
Whose griefe so much: yea God he knowes too much:
Whose wofull state, and greeuous hap (alas),
The world may see, is such as neuer was.
Whose woes are such; oh no, there are none such:
Whose hap so hard; nay rather halfe a hell:
Whose griefe so much: yea God he knowes too much:
Whose wofull state, and greeuous hap (alas),
The world may see, is such as neuer was.
Good nature weepes to see hir selfe abused;
Ill fortune shewes hir furie in hir face:
Poore reason pines to see hir selfe refused:
And dutie dies, to see his sore disgrace.
Hope hangs the head, to see dispaire so neere;
And what but death can end this heauie cheere?
Ill fortune shewes hir furie in hir face:
Poore reason pines to see hir selfe refused:
And dutie dies, to see his sore disgrace.
Hope hangs the head, to see dispaire so neere;
And what but death can end this heauie cheere?
O cursèd cares, that neuer can be knowne:
Dole, worse than death, when neuer tong can tell it:
The hurt is hid, although the sorow showne,
Such is my paine, no pleasure can expell it.
In summe, I see I am ordainèd I:
To liue in dole, and so in sorow die.
Dole, worse than death, when neuer tong can tell it:
The hurt is hid, although the sorow showne,
Such is my paine, no pleasure can expell it.
In summe, I see I am ordainèd I:
To liue in dole, and so in sorow die.
Behold each teare, no token of a toy:
But torments such, as teare my hart asunder:
Each sobbing sigh, a signe of such annoy,
That how I liue, beleue mee tis a wonder.
Each grone, a gripe, that makes me gaspe for breath:
And euerie straine, a bitter pang of death.
But torments such, as teare my hart asunder:
Each sobbing sigh, a signe of such annoy,
That how I liue, beleue mee tis a wonder.
Each grone, a gripe, that makes me gaspe for breath:
And euerie straine, a bitter pang of death.
Loe thus I liue, but looking still to die:
And still I looke, but still I see in vaine:
And still in vaine, alas, I lie and crie:
And still I crie, but haue no ease of paine.
So still in paine, I liue, looke, lie, and crie:
When hope would helpe, or death would let me die.
And still I looke, but still I see in vaine:
And still in vaine, alas, I lie and crie:
And still I crie, but haue no ease of paine.
So still in paine, I liue, looke, lie, and crie:
When hope would helpe, or death would let me die.
Sometime I sleepe, a slumber, not a sleepe:
And then I dreame (God knowes) of no delight,
But of such woes, as makes me lie and weepe
Vntill I wake, in such a pitious plight;
As who beheld me sleeping or awaking,
Would say my heart were in a heauie taking.
And then I dreame (God knowes) of no delight,
But of such woes, as makes me lie and weepe
Vntill I wake, in such a pitious plight;
As who beheld me sleeping or awaking,
Would say my heart were in a heauie taking.
Looke as thè dew doth lie vpon the ground,
So sits the sweate of sorrow on my face:
Oh deadly dart, that strooke so deepe a wound,
Oh hatefull hap, to hit in such a place:
The hart is hurt, and bleedes the bodie ouer:
Yet cannot die, nor euer health recouer.
So sits the sweate of sorrow on my face:
Oh deadly dart, that strooke so deepe a wound,
Oh hatefull hap, to hit in such a place:
The hart is hurt, and bleedes the bodie ouer:
Yet cannot die, nor euer health recouer.
Then he or she, that hath a happie hand,
To helpe a hart, that hath no hope to liue:
Come, come with speede, and do not staying stand:
But if no one, can any comfort giue,
Run to the Church, and bid the Sexton toule
A solemne knell, yet for a silie soule.
To helpe a hart, that hath no hope to liue:
Come, come with speede, and do not staying stand:
But if no one, can any comfort giue,
Run to the Church, and bid the Sexton toule
A solemne knell, yet for a silie soule.
Harke how it sounds, that sorrow lasteth long:
Long, long: long long: long long, and longer yet:
Oh cruell Death; thou doost me double wrong,
To let me lie so long in such a fit:
Yet when I die, write neighbors where I lie;
Long was I dead, ere death would let me die.
Long, long: long long: long long, and longer yet:
Oh cruell Death; thou doost me double wrong,
To let me lie so long in such a fit:
Yet when I die, write neighbors where I lie;
Long was I dead, ere death would let me die.
| The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton | |