Hvnnies Recreations Conteining foure godlie and compedious discourses, Intuitled Adams Banishment. Christ his Crib. The lost Sheepe. The complaint of old Age. Whereunto is newly adioyned these two notable and pithie Treatises: The Creation or first Weeke. The life and death of Ioseph. Compiled by William Hunnis |
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 | Hvnnies Recreations |  |
The Muse to hir Author.
Why fearest thou this gift to giue,
though gift of gifts be small?
If loue and zeale thy gift surmount,
No cause of feare at all.
Let loue with guift the triall make,
and so it shall appeare,
If troth be foreman of the quest,
with loue it passeth cleere.
And wey to whom the gift is giuen,
such one as loue doth hold,
More deere than gem of richest price
or wall of beaten gold.
though gift of gifts be small?
If loue and zeale thy gift surmount,
No cause of feare at all.
Let loue with guift the triall make,
and so it shall appeare,
If troth be foreman of the quest,
with loue it passeth cleere.
And wey to whom the gift is giuen,
such one as loue doth hold,
More deere than gem of richest price
or wall of beaten gold.
Hvmble thy selfe in awfull sort,
and doubtlesse thou shalt find:
Vnto thy choise a patron such
to thy desired mind.
Now fare thou well be of good cheere
blush not, ne be afraid,
Nor care for frowne of frumping sort,
remember what is said.
It may so fall (yer it be long)
I will be heere with speed:
Such thing to bring as best shall fit,
thine humour for to feed.
and doubtlesse thou shalt find:
Vnto thy choise a patron such
to thy desired mind.
Now fare thou well be of good cheere
blush not, ne be afraid,
Nor care for frowne of frumping sort,
remember what is said.
It may so fall (yer it be long)
I will be heere with speed:
Such thing to bring as best shall fit,
thine humour for to feed.
To the right Honourable sir Thomas Heneage knight, one of hir Maiesties priuy counsel, Vize-chamberlen to hir Highnesse, and tresuror of hir Maiesties chamber, prosperous health, long life, with much increase of honor.
[_]
The first letter of every line has been highlighted in the original to spell the name WILLIAM HVNNIS.
Where spring is small, great streams may not be had,
Yet as it is, doe make the owner glad,
Loue me compels, a cup thereof to bring,
If honor please, to taft of this poore spring,
And dip your lip, a little in the same,
My ioy were great, though boldnesse merit blame,
Yet as it is, doe make the owner glad,
Loue me compels, a cup thereof to bring,
If honor please, to taft of this poore spring,
And dip your lip, a little in the same,
My ioy were great, though boldnesse merit blame,
Heere I present vnto your honors view,
Vntimely fruit, as in my orchard grew,
No better choise therein that I could find,
Nor other thing that fitted to my mind,
In better yeare some better fruit may grow,
Such as shall be are yours, my selfe also.
Vntimely fruit, as in my orchard grew,
No better choise therein that I could find,
Nor other thing that fitted to my mind,
In better yeare some better fruit may grow,
Such as shall be are yours, my selfe also.
1
The Creation of the World.
How Heauen and earth the light and skie
The Sun, the Moone, and starres so hie:
How beasts and fowles, how Fish & Man
Created was of God, and whan.
The Sun, the Moone, and starres so hie:
How beasts and fowles, how Fish & Man
Created was of God, and whan.
The worke of the first day.
[1]
Whē God which no beginning had,the heauen & earth gan frame,
And void and emptie it beheld,
with darkness on the same.
[2]
And on the waters which he made,That then aloft did stand,
And ouerwhelm'd the earth so farre,
as yet appeard no land:
[3]
When at his word there light came forthdiuided from the shade:
And so the Euening and the morne,
By him one day was made.
2
The worke of the second day.
[4]
The firmament he framd and fixtbetweene the waters so,
As part aboue the same did rest,
the other part below.
5
And gaue a name therto, and saidit heauen shall called be:
The euening and the morning eke
the second day you see.
The worke of the third day.
[6]
The third day at his holy hest,the waters vnderneath
Compelled were togither goe,
in one place of the earth.
7
And then the land appeared dry,which Earth was called tho,
And bad it should bring forth great heat
ingendring seed to gro.
7
And fruitful trees of sundry sorte he }made{that seed might still retaine,
And bring forth fruit ech after kinde
that on the earth remaine.
3
8
Thus eu'ry thing came so to passe,as God before did say:
The earth brought herb & tree with fruit,
that still engender may.
The worke of the fourth day.
[10]
And that there shuld a diff'rēce be,betweene the daies and nights,
God bad that in the firmament,
there should be placed lights.
11
which shuld remain frō tim to timeappointed signes to be,
As day from day, and yeare from year
in order as we see:
12
The sun he made the day to rule,the moone the night to guide,
And shining starres in heauen he set,
whose light doth aye abide.
The worke of the fift day.
[13]
This mightie maker then gan say,let waters now forth bring,
Such creaturs as with life may moue
and fowle to fly with wing.
4
14
Vpon the earth and in the faceof heauen or starrie skie,
Strait way both fish & foule was made
in kind to multiplie.
15
God blessed both & bad them growthe fish the sea to fill:
And feathered foule vpon the earth,
their kind increasing still.
The worke of the Sixt Day.
[16]
Now let ye earth bring forth said Godeach liuing thing by kind:
As cattel, beasts, & worm that creep
his power the same assign'd.
17
Thus whē God saw his handy workwas good and pleasd him well:
Let vs make man like vs, said he,
the rest of all t'xcell:
18
To haue the rule of fish and fouleof cattell and the earth:
And euery creeping thing on groūd
that liues and draweth breath.
19
And in the image of himselfe,did God create him than,
Both male and female form'd he then
but first he made the man.
5
20
And blessed them the earth to fil,their sex still to renew:
And gaue them power vpon the earth
the same for to subdue.
21
And said, behold I haue you giuēof euery hearbe to eate,
And euery tree wherein is fruit,
likewise to be your meat.
22
Also to euerie beast on earth,and euery bird that flies:
And creeping worme green herb shal haue
to feed vpon likewise.
23
Al what he said so came to passe,and he the same did see,
Each kind of thing that he had made,
was good so for to be
6
[Thus was the heauens, ye earth, ye sea]
The hallowing of the sabboth day,
The sower flouds of Paradise gay:
How in the same man had his seate,
The tree forbidden him to eate,
How Adam named Creatures al,
How Eue was made that first did fall:
And how that mariage did begin,
Betweene them twa ne yer they did sin.
The sower flouds of Paradise gay:
How in the same man had his seate,
The tree forbidden him to eate,
How Adam named Creatures al,
How Eue was made that first did fall:
And how that mariage did begin,
Betweene them twa ne yer they did sin.
[1]
Thus was the heauens, ye earth, ye seaand creatures all therein
In six daies made, and in the seuenth
did God our God begin,
[2]
To rest from all his labours doneand sanctified the same:
To be a day of rest to man,
therein to praise his name.
3
God made ech plant in field ye gro'tbefore in earth it was,
And euery herbe before it grew,
and euery other grasse.
4
And thus before that any rainevpon the earth was found,
Or any man to haue in vse
the tillage of the groūd.
5
A mightie mist ascended vp,from off the earth, and so
Bewatered the face of all
the earth and ground below.
7
6
The man that of the earth was madea liuing soule became,
By breath of life that God did breath,
in nostrils of the man.
7
And from the first god planted had,a garden faire to see:
Wherein he set this man he made,
the keeper for to be.
8
And frō ye earth god made to springall fruitfull trees so plac't,
As both might well the eie delight,
and please the mouth in tast.
9
Two trees amid this garden grew,by power of sacred skill:
The one of life, the other was
of knowledge good & ill.
10
From Eden went a riuer forth,to moist this garden than:
Which afterward deuided was,
and in foure heads became.
11
And Pishon is the first of foure,which round about doth go,
The golden land of Hauilah,
where th'Onix stone doth gro.
12
The second head is Gihon calde,which compasseth throughout
The land of Ethyopia,
with water round about,
8
13
The third is named Hidekell,that passeth downe along
The east side of Assyria,
with mightie streame and strong.
14
And Euphrates the fourth is cald,which fruitfulnesse doth shew,
And in the same doth many gems,
and pretious stones forth grow.
15
Almighty God this Adam tookeand in this garden set:
The same to dresse, the same to keep
and of the fruit to eate.
16
Of euery tree that therein was,God bade him eate his fill,
Except the tree that's in the midst,
of knowledge good and ill.
17
God said, ye day thou eat'st thereofthou for the same shalt die:
Therefore see that thou touch it not
the tast thereof to try.
18
It is not good (said God) that manshould be alone I see:
I will an helper make to him,
companion his to be.
19
Out of ye ground did god thē makeeach beast vpon the earth,
And euery foule in th'ayre that flies
and all that draweth breath.
9
20
And God did bring al beasts and foules,to view of Adams eie,
Which was to see what kind of name
he then would call them by.
21
And Adam called euery beast,and euery fowle by name,
As we doe vse at this same day
to nominate the same.
22
In slumber then was Adam cast,and God a rib did take
From forth his side, & of the same
a woman did he make:
And fild the place with flesh againe
and when he did awake:
23
This is said he, bone of my bones,and flesh of mine I see:
Virago, shall she called be,
as taken out of me:
24
And for this cause shal euery onehis parents deere forsake,
And cleaue vnto his wife alone,
and both one flesh shall make.
FINIS.
11
Adams banishment.
The person of God.I am, and wil be, as I was,
before the world was wrought:
I made the heauens, the earth & sea,
and all therein of naught.
I onely for thy vse (O man)
these mighty works did frame,
And made thee Lord, and gouernor,
and ruler of the same.
Plac't thee here in Paradise,
and gaue thee will to chuse,
Whether my word thou wouldst obay
or else the same refuse.
But thou vnkind, and most vnkind,
through infidelitie,
Didst tast the fruit I thee forbad,
of good, and euill to be.
And yet by death I threatned thee,
that thou therefore shouldst die,
Thou presumdst the fruit to eate,
that I did thee deny.
There didst thou shew thy vnbeleefe,
and thoughtst my wordes vntrue:
12
and foule ambition grew.
Ingratefull wast thou found thee man
for that thou couetdst more
then I thee gaue yet for the same
not thankfull wast therefore.
Dost thou the son of slime and earth
thinke it a thing but small,
To make thee like vnto our selfe?
but wouldst thou therewithall,
Be like to vs in Deitie,
to know what we doo know?
This mou'd our wrath frō heauen
our angels down to throw.
The person of Adam.
O Lord giue earth and ashes leave
with feare to speak to thee:
Thou knewst before that I should fall
yer time was knowne to be.
And yer the angels kind were made
thou knewst the fall of man:
And of all things didst see the end,
ver thou the same began.
Thou mightst ye same preuēted haue
if so had beene thy will:
And I in great felicitie,
might haue continued still.
13
Was my foreknowledge then ye cause
of this thy wilfull fall?
Or dar'st thou yet so proudly thinke,
as me the causer call?
Thou art thy selfe both fault & cause.
and thou the same shalt find,
To be thy disobedience,
and proud aspiring mind.
Thou hadst my law for to obserue,
which law if thou hadst kept:
There had bin no transgressiō made
nor sinne in thee had crept.
Most true it is, I see the end
of euery thing I make,
Before it was: as proofe there is,
when I did vndertake,
To fashion thee, and creatures all,
in heauen and earth that be,
Who then could tell, but I alone,
and other twaine with me?
And where thou saist, I might thy fal,
haue holpen to the best:
Nor might not with my iustice strand,
nor with my glorie rest.
For I am truth, and truth I speake,
and truth shall witnesse be.
14
of the forbidden tree.
What canst thou say now for thy self
thou should not iudgement haue
And die the death for thine offense,
as I thee warning gaue?
Adam.
O Lord my God, I sory was,
when I my fault did see:
And was surprisde with shame & fear
for so offending thee.
I hid my selfe among the trees,
ne durst I be so bold,
Before thy presence to appeare,
nor yet my selfe behold.
Such shame and feare had cōpast me
about on euery side:
I knew not where my selfe bestow,
nor where my selfe to hide.
If sorrow mine, if shame and feare,
may not thy fauor win:
Alas, what else to thinke or speake,
I know not to begin.
GOD.
Svch sorrow, fear, & shame as thine
but agrauates mine ire:
15
the fruit thou didst desire.
And yet before thou didst it touch,
thou hadst committed sin:
Because thou couetdst in thy selfe,
more higher to haue bin.
Since in thy will and choise it lay,
to leaue or else to take,
And yu hast tane thou shuldst haue left,
I must for iustice sake,
Giue sentence on thy sinfull deed,
as I before haue said.
Hast thou ought else more for to say,
why iudgement should be staid?
ADAM.
O Lord my God, what shall the pot
vnto the potter say?
Thou hast me made of filth and slime,
of brittle earth and clay.
And as the potter turnes his wheele,
with lumpe of clay in hand,
Hereof to shape a vessell pure,
before his eie to stand:
To th'end that vessel should be vsde,
with iuice of grapes the best,
Frō thense to drink, such thirst to shalt,
as bideth in the brest.
16
and filth therein remaine,
Yet can the potter when he pleases
the same make cleane againe:
And being cleane may be imployd
vnto the potters will,
To eate or drinke in, as shall please
the cunning potters skill.
Yet with all meekenesse I confesse,
with no lesse feare I speake,
If pot the potter he mislike,
may soone in peeces breake.
But if it would the potter please,
to proue his power withall,
And see how weake the vessel is,
the conquest were but smal.
GOD.
The greatest conquest I do make
my truth is to maintaine,
I am the truth, and onely truth,
for euer to remaine.
The word I speake is verament,
and may not be denide:
As I by truth, and thou by fault,
shalt iudged be and tride.
Adam, Adam, hold vp thy hand,
this is thy iudgement day.
17
O Lord vouchsafe to licence dust,
a little more to say.
Behold how prostrate I doe lie,
before thy blessed face:
Behold my fearefull quiuering hart,
most humbly crauing grace.
Behold the sobs & greeuous grones,
my inward soule doth make:
And let not perish thou hast made,
for thy great glories sake.
If needs thou wilt thy iustice shew,
by iudgement to proceed,
Then let the party made th'offence,
be punisht for the deed.
It was not I the fruit first toucht,
nor pluckt it from the tree,
It was the woman thou me gau'st,
my helper for to be.
She pluckt it off, and tasting it,
she gaue it me, and said,
Behold how faire and sweet it is,
to eate be not afraid,
The first did eate, and after, I
did eate thereof also.
I craue with all humilitie,
thou wilt no rigor show.
18
And wouldst thou now thy self excite
and put on hir the blame:
Whereas you both offenders be,
and guilty of the same?
When she a rib was in thy side,
I gaue the charge to thee,
And bad thee eate of euery fruit,
saue onely of that tree.
And now is she bone of thy bone,
and flesh of thine also:
Not fleshes twaine but both one flesh
togither for to go.
So both are guiltie of the crime,
whereof thou art Accusde:
And ofspring yours shall in like form
thereof not be excusde.
But woman, why didst thou this deede
your selues with death to greeue.
WOMAN.
O Lord, the serpent me deceiu'd,
whose wordes I did beleeue.
GOD.
The Serpent cursed.
Thou subtill guilfull serpent then,because thou thus hast don:
19
that in the fields doe won.
Vpon thy bellie thou shalt go,
and dust shall be thy meat:
And all the daies thou hast to liue,
no other thing shalt eat.
Twixt thee and hir of enmitie,
I will the seeds forth sowe:
As that betweene thy seed and hirs
continuall strife shall grow.
The seed of hir shall crush thy head,
and tread in peeces small:
And thou shalt tread vpon his heele,
but not preuaile at all.
The Womans Iudgement.
Bvt Woman vnto thee I say,thy iudgement shall be this:
Because thou hast intised man,
by sinne to doe amisse,
Thy sorrowes vvill I multiplie,
when thou conceiued art:
And thou thy children shalt bring forth,
with dolor, paine, and smart:
And vnderneath thy husbands povver,
shalt alvvaies subiect be,
And he shall haue the charge and rule,
and gouernement of thee.
20
Adam, Adam, hold vp thy hand,
this iudgement shalt thou haue,
Because thou hast transgrest the law
that I vnto thee gaue:
And bent thine eare vnto thy wife,
to harken what she said,
And tane and eaten of the fruit,
that I to thee denaid:
I cursse the ground euen for thy sake,
and cursed shall it be:
In sorrow shalt thou eate thereof,
while life is lent to thee.
Wild thorne also and thistle weed,
it shall bring forth and yeeld:
And thou shalt feed vpon the fruit
that groweth in the field.
With painefull trauel great and strong
with sweat vpon thy face,
Thy bread shalt eate, till thou returne
to earth thy former place:
For of the earth, and from the earth,
thou earth doost still remaine:
And from the earth, vnto the earth,
thou earth shalt go againe.
this iudgement shalt thou haue,
Because thou hast transgrest the law
that I vnto thee gaue:
And bent thine eare vnto thy wife,
to harken what she said,
And tane and eaten of the fruit,
that I to thee denaid:
I cursse the ground euen for thy sake,
and cursed shall it be:
In sorrow shalt thou eate thereof,
while life is lent to thee.
Wild thorne also and thistle weed,
it shall bring forth and yeeld:
And thou shalt feed vpon the fruit
that groweth in the field.
With painefull trauel great and strong
with sweat vpon thy face,
Thy bread shalt eate, till thou returne
to earth thy former place:
For of the earth, and from the earth,
thou earth doost still remaine:
And from the earth, vnto the earth,
thou earth shalt go againe.
To thinke what pitious mone they made
what clamors and what cries,
Such time as God thē both draue foorth
from heauenlie paradise:
What wringing hāds, what folding arms
what teares from blubbering eies:
How oft they set them downe to weepe,
how oft againe they rise,
How oft their heauy heads they reare,
and faces to the skies:
How oft each other could embrace,
in lamentable guise,
How oft deepe sighes the hart sēds forth,
where all the sorrow lies:
Might vrge vs all from them that sprang
to waile with them likewise.
Againe to thinke how euery beast,
and euery fowle withall,
Which heretofore obedient were,
and came at Adams call,
Doo now from Adams presence flie,
as fearefull of his sight,
And in the woods and desarts wilde
doo take their whole delight.
To thinke whereas he was before,
each thing did grow by kind.
Which he as then might take at wil,
to pleasure of his mind.
The tree of life to be his meat,
by death no time to fall,
And euery creature that was made,
to solace him withall.
How he likewise deuoid of shame,
might children there beget,
And woman to bring forth the same,
without all greefe and let:
Must now with painfull trauell sore,
go dig and delue the earth,
Yer it can yeeld him any food,
wherewith to feed his breath:
To thinke how many hundred yeares,
his trauell did him greeue.
And how each day broght sorrowes new
the time he had to liue:
Might moue with ruth a marble mind,
it selfe to mollifie,
But euen to thinke or heare of this,
poore Adams tragedie.
what clamors and what cries,
21
from heauenlie paradise:
What wringing hāds, what folding arms
what teares from blubbering eies:
How oft they set them downe to weepe,
how oft againe they rise,
How oft their heauy heads they reare,
and faces to the skies:
How oft each other could embrace,
in lamentable guise,
How oft deepe sighes the hart sēds forth,
where all the sorrow lies:
Might vrge vs all from them that sprang
to waile with them likewise.
Againe to thinke how euery beast,
and euery fowle withall,
Which heretofore obedient were,
and came at Adams call,
Doo now from Adams presence flie,
as fearefull of his sight,
And in the woods and desarts wilde
doo take their whole delight.
To thinke whereas he was before,
each thing did grow by kind.
Which he as then might take at wil,
to pleasure of his mind.
The tree of life to be his meat,
by death no time to fall,
22
to solace him withall.
How he likewise deuoid of shame,
might children there beget,
And woman to bring forth the same,
without all greefe and let:
Must now with painfull trauell sore,
go dig and delue the earth,
Yer it can yeeld him any food,
wherewith to feed his breath:
To thinke how many hundred yeares,
his trauell did him greeue.
And how each day broght sorrowes new
the time he had to liue:
Might moue with ruth a marble mind,
it selfe to mollifie,
But euen to thinke or heare of this,
poore Adams tragedie.
23
Christ his Crib.
What fury haunteth vs,
that we so much delight,
To stād & gaze on monumēts,
of auncient former sight?
Of pleasure what find we,
in sumptuous buildings new:
Such as our ancestors before,
the like nere saw nor knew?
Behold the time is such,
vanitie beareth sway:
And fancie fond the wit doth rule,
till both come to decay.
For euery priuate man,
a modull takes in hand,
Where wit and will, and wealth do meet,
are many platformes scand.
Some costly buildings reare,
and pull them downe againe:
And othersome altar and change,
as fansie feedes the braine.
And some foundation laies,
and yer the worke be done:
Doth take his leaue and goeth his waie,
and leaues it to his sonne.
The sonne doth much mislike
the worke the father wrought,
And yer his fancie can be fed,
consumes himselfe to nought.
Of other some there be,
hauing of treasure store:
Which when a worke they finisht haue,
yet still deuiseth more.
What pleasure now haue such,
in lieu of cost and paine,
For only but to feed the eie,
is vanitie most vaine.
But if you faine would see,
a monument in deed:
Then goe with me, and run apace,
the better shall we speed.
I will you shew a sight,
more worth to view and see:
Then all the buildings on the earth,
what euer so they be.
And such a sight it is,
as all the fathers old:
And ancestors before their time,
the like did nere behold.
And all that liue this day,
and on the earth remaine:
Nor any after age that comes,
shall see the same againe.
Behold loe here it is,
a Cabin poore God knowes:
Beerent and torne, a rustie thing,
vnfurnished with showes,
Of outward sight to see,
a simple thatched cot:
Where ileet & snow, and raine driues in,
a ruynde place God wot.
And yet within the same,
a blessed babe doth lie:
Which yeeldeth forth as infants doe,
many a tender crie.
This babe, euen at whose becke,
the thunder makes to quake:
The earth beneath in trembling sort,
and lofty skie to shake.
Euen here this infant doth
(being a mightie prince:
And soueraigne ruler of the world,
that shall his foes conuince)
Sucke milke from tender breast,
of blessed Mary sure:
Being his mother and a wife,
and yet a virgine pure.
I am no whit afraid,
comparison to make:
This homelie Cabin to prefer,
for this sweet Babies sake,
Before the buildings great
of stately Temples all,
And sumptuous courts and palaces,
of princes great and small.
This stable dooth surmount,
the costly Temple wrought,
With curious worke by Salomon,
which (as of right it ought)
Must yeeld and base it selfe,
and stoope this place vnto,
In which was borne the sonne of God,
as was his will to doe.
So must that glorious court,
of that high potentat,
King Cresus he of Lydia,
stand backe to this estate.
And let the Capitols
that dedicated were,
In olde time past with Idols theirs,
Vnto Dan Iupiter.
Which though they garnisht were
most magnificentlie:
With fine and curious workmanship,
of marble imag'rie:
Now yeeld this stable to,
as subiects bond and thrall,
As no whit to compared be,
to this in ought at all.
Let Lady Rome strike saile,
and vnder hatches go,
With stately turrets of defense,
hir wals and gates also.
And let hir capitoll,
with glasse and gold araide:
And temple Olauitrium
now shake and be afraid.
And let hir house of gold,
bedeckt with pretious stone,
Giue place with all humility,
to this poore cot alone.
For now is falne to ground,
the Image made of gold:
In likenesse to king Romulus,
which should together hold,
And stand for euermore,
vntill such time a child
Should forth proceed and so be borne,
of virgin meeke and mild.
The image made of brasse,
in womans portraiture:
So high, so great, and hugie was,
for euer to endure.
Which now is likewise falne,
euen at the artsman said:
Yet still shall stand vntill a child
proceedeth from a maide.
that we so much delight,
To stād & gaze on monumēts,
of auncient former sight?
Of pleasure what find we,
in sumptuous buildings new:
Such as our ancestors before,
the like nere saw nor knew?
Behold the time is such,
vanitie beareth sway:
And fancie fond the wit doth rule,
till both come to decay.
For euery priuate man,
a modull takes in hand,
Where wit and will, and wealth do meet,
are many platformes scand.
Some costly buildings reare,
and pull them downe againe:
And othersome altar and change,
as fansie feedes the braine.
And some foundation laies,
and yer the worke be done:
24
and leaues it to his sonne.
The sonne doth much mislike
the worke the father wrought,
And yer his fancie can be fed,
consumes himselfe to nought.
Of other some there be,
hauing of treasure store:
Which when a worke they finisht haue,
yet still deuiseth more.
What pleasure now haue such,
in lieu of cost and paine,
For only but to feed the eie,
is vanitie most vaine.
But if you faine would see,
a monument in deed:
Then goe with me, and run apace,
the better shall we speed.
I will you shew a sight,
more worth to view and see:
Then all the buildings on the earth,
what euer so they be.
And such a sight it is,
as all the fathers old:
And ancestors before their time,
the like did nere behold.
And all that liue this day,
and on the earth remaine:
25
shall see the same againe.
Behold loe here it is,
a Cabin poore God knowes:
Beerent and torne, a rustie thing,
vnfurnished with showes,
Of outward sight to see,
a simple thatched cot:
Where ileet & snow, and raine driues in,
a ruynde place God wot.
And yet within the same,
a blessed babe doth lie:
Which yeeldeth forth as infants doe,
many a tender crie.
This babe, euen at whose becke,
the thunder makes to quake:
The earth beneath in trembling sort,
and lofty skie to shake.
Euen here this infant doth
(being a mightie prince:
And soueraigne ruler of the world,
that shall his foes conuince)
Sucke milke from tender breast,
of blessed Mary sure:
Being his mother and a wife,
and yet a virgine pure.
I am no whit afraid,
comparison to make:
26
for this sweet Babies sake,
Before the buildings great
of stately Temples all,
And sumptuous courts and palaces,
of princes great and small.
This stable dooth surmount,
the costly Temple wrought,
With curious worke by Salomon,
which (as of right it ought)
Must yeeld and base it selfe,
and stoope this place vnto,
In which was borne the sonne of God,
as was his will to doe.
So must that glorious court,
of that high potentat,
King Cresus he of Lydia,
stand backe to this estate.
And let the Capitols
that dedicated were,
In olde time past with Idols theirs,
Vnto Dan Iupiter.
Which though they garnisht were
most magnificentlie:
With fine and curious workmanship,
of marble imag'rie:
Now yeeld this stable to,
as subiects bond and thrall,
27
to this in ought at all.
Let Lady Rome strike saile,
and vnder hatches go,
With stately turrets of defense,
hir wals and gates also.
And let hir capitoll,
with glasse and gold araide:
And temple Olauitrium
now shake and be afraid.
And let hir house of gold,
bedeckt with pretious stone,
Giue place with all humility,
to this poore cot alone.
For now is falne to ground,
the Image made of gold:
In likenesse to king Romulus,
which should together hold,
And stand for euermore,
vntill such time a child
Should forth proceed and so be borne,
of virgin meeke and mild.
The image made of brasse,
in womans portraiture:
So high, so great, and hugie was,
for euer to endure.
Which now is likewise falne,
euen at the artsman said:
28
proceedeth from a maide.
All Haile most royall house,
possessor of all grace:
That was so highly dignifide,
to be the only place
Of such an holy birth,
whereby thou art to see,
More happy then the heauen it selfe
by this Natiuitie.
And neither may this cot
be thought a whit the lesse,
Meet to receiue the Sauiour
of all our trespasses.
For that the walles thereof,
were broken or berent:
Subiect to wind and weather such,
as stormes and tempest sent.
Neither for that it was
without all furniture:
As sheetes and other needfull things,
as dayly be in vre.
Hauing but only this,
which there by chance they found,
Of stebble rough, and thistle hay,
that lay vpon the ground.
And notwithstanding this,
as you haue heard beforne:
Did yet receiue this little babe,
so soone as it was borne.
For such an homely crib,
and stable poore and thin,
Did well become our sauiour Christ,
for to be borne therein.
As he that to the world,
came hyther purposely:
To giue example vnto vs,
of great humilitie.
And to condemne dame pride,
and thrust hir vnder foot:
Which is of sinne and vices all,
both branches, tree, and root.
In this poore thatched house,
here is no rich aray:
As hangings faire of purple hue,
nor cloth of arras gaie.
In this poore silly cot,
there is no stuffe at all,
No chamber great, nor parlor smal,
no kitchen, ne no hall.
Within this homely cell,
there was not to be seene,
Of any fuell, wood or cole,
a sier for to teene.
There is not in this cooch,
expected for to see,
Of delicates and iunkets fine,
nor daintie cheere to be.
Within this cabin poore,
yee shall not here behold,
Great troopes of men for to attend,
in siluer, silke, ne gold.
Nor yet the childwife lie,
in soft and stately bed:
With quilts of silke to keepe hir warme,
nor pillow for hir hed.
No, no, but here doth lie,
in manger hard and cold:
An amiable infant sweet,
more sweet than may be told.
Bewrapt and lapt in clouts,
both poore and bare God wot,
And swathed in such swathing clothes,
as then there might be got.
And though that he now borne,
in homely sort thus laie,
Yet was his diuine maiestie
declared that same day.
For to the Shepheards came,
that watcht their flocks by night,
The angell of the most high God,
shining with beames so bright,
As made them so afraid,
they stood in doubtfull stay,
Untill the angell of the Lord,
thus wise to them could say:
Are not, behold, I bring
to you such gladsome newes,
So all the world shall ioy thereat,
leaue off therefore to muse.
For vnto you this day
a sauiour Christ is borne:
You shall him finde in manger laid,
the walles berent and torne.
Forthwith with th'angell was
a maru'lous multitude
Of heauenly souldiors praising God,
in this sort to conclude:
Glorie to God on high,
and peace on earth below,
And vnto men reioysing great,
that this beleeue and shew.
And after came to passe,
when th'angels went awaie,
Up into heauen from whense they came;
the shepheards then did say:
Let vs to Bethleem go,
these tidinges to behold,
And so went out, and when they came,
they found as th'angell told:
The babe in manger laid,
and Ioseph that good man,
Was hard him by who prostrately,
this worke of God to scan:
Gan with a lowlie hart
and humble spirit most mild,
Fal on his knees, and worshipped
his new borne softer child.
The shepheards seeing this,
did publish vnto all,
What th'angell said, and they had seen
each thing as did befall:
And backe againe they went,
and praised God on hie,
That they had seene the sonne of God
in manger thus to lie.
Then with their warblings pipes,
they wont to play vpon,
Before their seuerall flockes of sheep
togither as they gone.
Do chaunt it now aloft
with sound of shepheards laie,
And thus with ioy solemnise they,
this blessed babes birth-day.
The virgine so likewise,
that Iesus mother was,
Which first was brought into a muse
how it might come to passe:
That she a child should beare,
and knew no man at all:
All now agnize the worke of God.
and let hir eie downe fall
Upon hir little babe
which God to hir had sent,
To be hir sauiour, and of all
who euer doe repent.
And then she tooke hir babe,
and dandled it a while:
Another while she gaue it sucke,
His crying to beguile.
And many kisse it gaue
as it lay in hir arme:
And thē with clothes, such as they were,
Beclapt it well and warme.
The while the breast she giues,
the quieter to keepe:
Other while she lulleth it,
and husheth it asleepe.
And thus in most sweet guise,
and amiable sort:
The time they passe with mirth and ioy,
and many another sport.
possessor of all grace:
That was so highly dignifide,
to be the only place
Of such an holy birth,
whereby thou art to see,
More happy then the heauen it selfe
by this Natiuitie.
And neither may this cot
be thought a whit the lesse,
Meet to receiue the Sauiour
of all our trespasses.
For that the walles thereof,
were broken or berent:
Subiect to wind and weather such,
as stormes and tempest sent.
Neither for that it was
without all furniture:
As sheetes and other needfull things,
as dayly be in vre.
Hauing but only this,
which there by chance they found,
Of stebble rough, and thistle hay,
that lay vpon the ground.
And notwithstanding this,
as you haue heard beforne:
29
so soone as it was borne.
For such an homely crib,
and stable poore and thin,
Did well become our sauiour Christ,
for to be borne therein.
As he that to the world,
came hyther purposely:
To giue example vnto vs,
of great humilitie.
And to condemne dame pride,
and thrust hir vnder foot:
Which is of sinne and vices all,
both branches, tree, and root.
In this poore thatched house,
here is no rich aray:
As hangings faire of purple hue,
nor cloth of arras gaie.
In this poore silly cot,
there is no stuffe at all,
No chamber great, nor parlor smal,
no kitchen, ne no hall.
Within this homely cell,
there was not to be seene,
Of any fuell, wood or cole,
a sier for to teene.
There is not in this cooch,
expected for to see,
30
nor daintie cheere to be.
Within this cabin poore,
yee shall not here behold,
Great troopes of men for to attend,
in siluer, silke, ne gold.
Nor yet the childwife lie,
in soft and stately bed:
With quilts of silke to keepe hir warme,
nor pillow for hir hed.
No, no, but here doth lie,
in manger hard and cold:
An amiable infant sweet,
more sweet than may be told.
Bewrapt and lapt in clouts,
both poore and bare God wot,
And swathed in such swathing clothes,
as then there might be got.
And though that he now borne,
in homely sort thus laie,
Yet was his diuine maiestie
declared that same day.
For to the Shepheards came,
that watcht their flocks by night,
The angell of the most high God,
shining with beames so bright,
As made them so afraid,
they stood in doubtfull stay,
31
thus wise to them could say:
Are not, behold, I bring
to you such gladsome newes,
So all the world shall ioy thereat,
leaue off therefore to muse.
For vnto you this day
a sauiour Christ is borne:
You shall him finde in manger laid,
the walles berent and torne.
Forthwith with th'angell was
a maru'lous multitude
Of heauenly souldiors praising God,
in this sort to conclude:
Glorie to God on high,
and peace on earth below,
And vnto men reioysing great,
that this beleeue and shew.
And after came to passe,
when th'angels went awaie,
Up into heauen from whense they came;
the shepheards then did say:
Let vs to Bethleem go,
these tidinges to behold,
And so went out, and when they came,
they found as th'angell told:
The babe in manger laid,
and Ioseph that good man,
32
this worke of God to scan:
Gan with a lowlie hart
and humble spirit most mild,
Fal on his knees, and worshipped
his new borne softer child.
The shepheards seeing this,
did publish vnto all,
What th'angell said, and they had seen
each thing as did befall:
And backe againe they went,
and praised God on hie,
That they had seene the sonne of God
in manger thus to lie.
Then with their warblings pipes,
they wont to play vpon,
Before their seuerall flockes of sheep
togither as they gone.
Do chaunt it now aloft
with sound of shepheards laie,
And thus with ioy solemnise they,
this blessed babes birth-day.
The virgine so likewise,
that Iesus mother was,
Which first was brought into a muse
how it might come to passe:
That she a child should beare,
and knew no man at all:
33
and let hir eie downe fall
Upon hir little babe
which God to hir had sent,
To be hir sauiour, and of all
who euer doe repent.
And then she tooke hir babe,
and dandled it a while:
Another while she gaue it sucke,
His crying to beguile.
And many kisse it gaue
as it lay in hir arme:
And thē with clothes, such as they were,
Beclapt it well and warme.
The while the breast she giues,
the quieter to keepe:
Other while she lulleth it,
and husheth it asleepe.
And thus in most sweet guise,
and amiable sort:
The time they passe with mirth and ioy,
and many another sport.
35
The lost Sheepe.
Sith that the heauen of heauenswhere God and angels be,
Is made the seate wheron I sit,
by mightyest power decree:
And that the Earth beneath,
where hearbe and grasse doth growe,
Where men and beasts and liuing things
do creepe thereon and goe:
Is for my foot the stoole,
ordeined long before,
Yer world was wrought, or angell made,
or ought else lesse or more.
Sith I am Lord thereof,
and all these thinges be mine,
Then tell me man what moueth thee,
from me thus to decline?
And seekest other waies,
these things for to obtaine:
So fond and frantike is thy wit,
so feeble is thy braine,
36
rather than come to me:
Being the well and fountaine spring
of all good things that be.
I also readie am,
on thee for to bestow,
Each good that is, if thou but aske,
I must my kindnesse show.
Such is my loue to thee,
not changeable, but sure,
I loued thee before thou wast,
which loue shall stil endure.
When thou a sinner wert,
and wickednesse didst vse,
To giue my bloud and life for thee,
the same did not refuse.
Thou art now iustifide,
by shedding of my bloud,
And reconciled by my death:
wherein thou art made good.
For I that knew not sin,
was yet made sinne for thee:
That thou mightst be the righteousness
of th'onlie God in mee.
And I doe thee assure,
it did me greatlie please,
To beare thy sin and wickednes,
thy weakenes and disease.
37
And stedfastlie beleeue:
There shal no torment, paine, or smart,
for any sinne thee greeue.
But through my special grace,
and mercies great in store,
Promise thee I will henceforth,
thinke on thy sinne no more.
For in the deepe alow,
and bottome of the Sea,
I haue all thine iniquities,
for euer throwne awaie.
Why doost thou toile and moile,
and after shadowes run?
And shun'st the waie that leads to me,
which am Gods onlie sonne?
I am the giuer sure,
of true felicitie:
And yet for it be very few,
that seeketh vnto me.
Beautie allureth much,
and rauisheth the mind:
And drawes vnto it flockes of men,
that louing seeme and kind.
And lo, behold and view,
nothing more faire to see
Than I, and yet not one there is,
will be in loue with me.
38
doe many take delight,
And of ancient nobilitie,
doe claime descents by right.
And yet nothing there is,
of ancient high degree,
In title, stile, or chiefe descent,
that goeth before me.
For while I am the sonne
of God most glorious,
And mother mine a virgine was,
and my name is Iesus.
Which name was giuen to me,
not vnaduisedly:
Nor at aduenture, and by chance,
as names are commonly.
Nor was it giuen by man,
but by an angel sent
To tell of my Natiuitie,
the purpose and intent.
And vnder heauen there is
none other name but this:
Giuen vnto men their soules to saue
from all their trespasses.
How hapneth it therefore,
that scarsely on the ground,
Can any one that willing is
to ioyne with me be found.
39
which I so much desire:
Is not for me, but for your good,
that I the same require.
I am the Monarch cheefe,
of heauen, of earth, & all,
Why then are you so loth and shamde,
to come when I you call?
I am most rich indeed,
and ready for to giue
Both great and many benefites,
to all in faith that liue.
All greatly doe desire,
and very faine would haue
Petitions made, that I might giue,
to such as on me craue.
Out now alas behold,
not one that vnderstands
How for to aske nor come to me,
to craue ought at my hands.
I am the wisedome cal'd,
of God my father deare:
And so I am in very deed,
and yet for loue ne feare,
Will any mortall wight,
vouchsafe to seeke me out,
To aske me counsell of that thing
whereof he is in doubt,
40
of fathers glorie mine,
And of his heauenlie maiesty,
the image most diuine.
And yet no man thereby,
of what estate or gree,
The more to honour mooued is,
nor yet to reuerence me.
I am a pleasant friend,
a trustie friend also,
To him that willing is to be
my friend, and with me go.
I doe bestow my wealth,
my riches and my store,
On them I loue with willing mind,
what can be asked more?
And yet none goes about
to enter in with me:
To this sweet amiable league,
of friendships high degree.
I am the only waie,
that vnto heauen doth lead,
And yet but very few there be,
that vse my pathes to tread.
Why doe the ignorant
besotted people blind,
Not trust in me, seeing I am
the only truth to find?
41
my promise to beleeue:
None is so faithfull as I am,
and none may more thee greeue.
And sithe I am of life
the author, and of breath:
What meane you then, by leauing me,
to follow after death.
I am your only light,
No darkenesse is in me:
And yet will wilfull foolish men,
In darkenesse rather be.
I am the perfect rule
of liuing righteouslie,
Why then doost thou seek other formes,
To square thy life thereby?
I rarely am alone,
The pleasure sweet and true,
Without all gall or bitternesse,
[illeg.]eiected yet of you.
I am the peace of mind,
and comforter likewise,
all afflicted consciences,
when stormie troubles rise.
Why then doe not these men
That vexed be in mind,
Come vnto me for their releefe,
which they are sure to find?
42
themselues can thankefull showe
To such as any benefite
vpon them did bestow.
Or if the Dragons fierce,
haue gratefull learn'd to bee,
Or mastife curs their masters know
and fawne when they him see.
If Eagles loue returne
to such as keepe them well:
And Dolphins likewise kindnesse sa[illeg.]
as you your selues can tell:
If other beastes likewise,
depri'ud of reasons sence,
Can to their benefactors vse
both loue and reuerence:
Why wilt thou then (ô Man)
thy selfe set forth to be,
More brutish than the sauage beasts,
denying loue to me?
Seeing that to thy vse,
and onely for thy sake,
All things that be, yea thou thy selfe
of nothing did I make.
And with my precious bloud,
redeemed thee haue I,
From sin, from death, from hell depth
and that most willingly.
43
his owner that him fed,
The asse likewise his maisters crib,
that standeth him in stead:
Why doost not thou vnkind,
and churlish man to mee,
Acknowledge me to be the same,
that hath redeemed thee?
I am alone to thee,
all things that thou would haue:
And I alone will furnish thee,
with all things thou canst craue.
Why runnest thou about,
gadding from place to place,
To seeke elsewhere thy benefit,
distrusting of my grace:
Why busiest thou thy selfe,
in many needlesse waies,
And dost frequent the companie,
of skornefull wicked straies?
As I am mercifull,
so easie to intreat:
Thou wretched man seeke vnto me,
despaire not though I threat.
Yea sith I am the iust
reuenger of thy sin:
Why therefore art thou not afraid,
me to offend therein?
44
cast downe thy soule to hell,
And yet my iudgements fearest not,
nor all the threats I tell.
Wherefore thou foolish man,
if thou so wilfull be,
Headlong to run vnto thy death,
by thy forsaking me:
Blame but thy selfe therefore,
and blame not me at all,
For thou thy selfe the author art,
of thy decaie and fall.
For what can I doe more?
seeing th'excessiue loue,
That I thee bare with tender care,
can no whit thee remoue.
O flintie harted man,
with rockie stonie brest:
Which cannot be with loue reclaim'd,
nor mercies mine exprest.
Nor will perswaded be,
with such an hope assur'd,
Of heauenly ioyes and riches great,
ready for thee procur'd:
Nor can awaked be,
with promises diuine:
Nor any whit be terrifide,
with seuere sentence mine:
45
with any shame of sin:
But rather so egregiouslie,
perseuer still therein:
That thou doost far surmount,
the sauage beasts in kind,
And doost possesse an yron hart,
more hard than steele to find.
What can pittie preuaile,
alas, in such a place,
In such a peruerse froward hart,
becankred void of grace?
To saue one gainst his will,
and rid him from distresse,
Doth neither stand with wisdoms law,
nor yet with righteousnesse.
47
The complaint of Old-Age.
In search of secret such,
as is beneath the sunne:
Each thing by kind his course doth find
by natures skill to run.
We see the stricken deere,
hath caught a bleeding wound:
And yet by eating of an herbe,
becommeth whole and sound.
The hound a hurt receiues,
that greeueth him with paine
By onely licking with his toong,
himselfe doth heale againe.
And if he sicklie be,
with inward greefe or sore:
He eateth grasse himselfe to purge,
which doth his health restore.
The merlings and wood doues,
the Partridges and Iayes:
Do purge their superfluitie,
with onely hearbe of Bayes.
The Pigeon and the Hen,
the Turtle Doue also:
Themselues doth cure with pellitor,
that on the wall doth grow.
The wild and sauage Bore,
by eating Cedria,
Do helpe themselues, and so doe beares,
with hear be Mandragora.
The lothsome Snake with age,
both feeble is & blind:
Who slowlie slides from place to place,
some narrow straight to find,
Through which he straines himselfe,
thereby his skin to cast:
And so new health with strength & sight,
he purchaseth at last:
The Lizard in his age,
doth change and cast his skin:
And sits ope eyed against the East,
the sun may enter in:
The heat whereof doth dry,
the humour of his eyes:
By which his sight againe he takes,
in corner where he lies.
The Eagle being weake,
much greeuous mone doth make:
Bicause his bill is growne so long
he can no sust'nance take:
Yet nature hath him taught,
some rocke or stone to find,
Against the which his bill beats off,
and so gets health by kind.
When as the Pellican
behols hir birds late slaine:
By poison that the Serpent shed,
tormented is with paine.
And then doth with hir bill,
hir tender breast berent:
And so hir birds reuiue againe,
by bloud vpon them sprent.
The Lapwing being old,
to see nor flie she may,
Vntill hir birds such feathers plucke
as causeth hir decaie:
And then with iuice of hearbs,
hir eies doe rid from paine,
And hide hir vnderneath their winges,
till she be whole againe.
The Swallow in like sort
perceiues hir yonglings eies
To be depriued of their sight,
foorth from the neast she flies,
And findeth out an hearbe
that Celedoni hight,
And doth returne, and with the same
restores to them their sight,
Thus doe we see and know,
that nature beareth swaie,
In creatures such as reason wants,
to helpe them what she may.
as is beneath the sunne:
Each thing by kind his course doth find
by natures skill to run.
We see the stricken deere,
hath caught a bleeding wound:
And yet by eating of an herbe,
becommeth whole and sound.
The hound a hurt receiues,
that greeueth him with paine
By onely licking with his toong,
himselfe doth heale againe.
And if he sicklie be,
with inward greefe or sore:
He eateth grasse himselfe to purge,
which doth his health restore.
The merlings and wood doues,
the Partridges and Iayes:
Do purge their superfluitie,
with onely hearbe of Bayes.
The Pigeon and the Hen,
the Turtle Doue also:
Themselues doth cure with pellitor,
48
The wild and sauage Bore,
by eating Cedria,
Do helpe themselues, and so doe beares,
with hear be Mandragora.
The lothsome Snake with age,
both feeble is & blind:
Who slowlie slides from place to place,
some narrow straight to find,
Through which he straines himselfe,
thereby his skin to cast:
And so new health with strength & sight,
he purchaseth at last:
The Lizard in his age,
doth change and cast his skin:
And sits ope eyed against the East,
the sun may enter in:
The heat whereof doth dry,
the humour of his eyes:
By which his sight againe he takes,
in corner where he lies.
The Eagle being weake,
much greeuous mone doth make:
Bicause his bill is growne so long
he can no sust'nance take:
Yet nature hath him taught,
some rocke or stone to find,
Against the which his bill beats off,
and so gets health by kind.
49
behols hir birds late slaine:
By poison that the Serpent shed,
tormented is with paine.
And then doth with hir bill,
hir tender breast berent:
And so hir birds reuiue againe,
by bloud vpon them sprent.
The Lapwing being old,
to see nor flie she may,
Vntill hir birds such feathers plucke
as causeth hir decaie:
And then with iuice of hearbs,
hir eies doe rid from paine,
And hide hir vnderneath their winges,
till she be whole againe.
The Swallow in like sort
perceiues hir yonglings eies
To be depriued of their sight,
foorth from the neast she flies,
And findeth out an hearbe
that Celedoni hight,
And doth returne, and with the same
restores to them their sight,
Thus doe we see and know,
that nature beareth swaie,
In creatures such as reason wants,
to helpe them what she may.
50
Bvt now to you my friends,
that Physicke doe professe:
Which by your skill and learning great,
doe many greefes redresse.
And with the same we know,
you often bring to passe,
Sweet health againe for to restore,
where dangerous sicknesse was.
Of health to write the praise,
I wish he could that can:
Health is one of the goodlyest giftes,
that God hath lent to man.
Health listeth vp the mind,
and makes the body light:
Health doth bedew the face with bloude
that fresh is to the sight.
Health makes the sinewes strong,
more trauell to endure:
And health vnto the man that's wise,
great comfort doth procure.
What profit health doth bring
to those that students be:
No toong can tel, but such as sucke,
the Nectar from the tree.
By health the husbandman
both tils and sowes the land:
Without the which no prince may say,
he able is to stand.
And euery man besides,
that liues in common wealth,
As some by skil, and some by strength,
through power of noble health,
The same likewise supports,
in order as they ought:
And but for health all gouernments
to ruine come and naught.
If health be done away,
then life is worse than death,
For death makes end of sorrowes all,
by stopping of the breath.
Of earthly treasures all,
health is to be preferd
Before all thinges that eie hath seene,
or eare hath euer heard.
that Physicke doe professe:
Which by your skill and learning great,
doe many greefes redresse.
And with the same we know,
you often bring to passe,
Sweet health againe for to restore,
where dangerous sicknesse was.
Of health to write the praise,
I wish he could that can:
Health is one of the goodlyest giftes,
that God hath lent to man.
Health listeth vp the mind,
and makes the body light:
Health doth bedew the face with bloude
that fresh is to the sight.
Health makes the sinewes strong,
more trauell to endure:
And health vnto the man that's wise,
great comfort doth procure.
What profit health doth bring
to those that students be:
No toong can tel, but such as sucke,
the Nectar from the tree.
By health the husbandman
both tils and sowes the land:
Without the which no prince may say,
he able is to stand.
51
that liues in common wealth,
As some by skil, and some by strength,
through power of noble health,
The same likewise supports,
in order as they ought:
And but for health all gouernments
to ruine come and naught.
If health be done away,
then life is worse than death,
For death makes end of sorrowes all,
by stopping of the breath.
Of earthly treasures all,
health is to be preferd
Before all thinges that eie hath seene,
or eare hath euer heard.
A question would I aske,
thereby not to offend:
What is the cause that physicks art,
cannot old age defend?
By cunning and by skill,
great cures ye doo each day:
But age will not remoued be,
nor yet kept at a stay.
No physicks art ne drug,
nor potion can ye make:
Can force old age for to exchange,
the place that he doth take.
Age stealeth on vs so,
yer ye can doo vs good:
That suddenly it quailes the strength,
and dooth forestall the blood.
Whereby the humour fresh
is brought vnto decay:
And gallant vigor of the mind,
is forst to flie awaie.
And looke what lustie age,
in yoonger yeares brought forth,
The same old age hath cleane defac't,
and made it nothing worth.
A thousand maladies
vpon old age depend:
Which peecemeale wise away do pluck
what fragrant youth did send.
Beautie is worne awaie,
fresh bloud is turn'd to blacke:
Wit is made dull, the memorie lost,
and liuelinesse dooth lacke.
Age makes our sleepes vnsure,
our eiesight for to faile:
Our courage and actiuitie,
our strength and all to quaile.
The vitall heat is cold,
delights are driuen to shore:
Nourishing iuice and breathing sweet,
are gone for euermore.
All merriments and sports,
conceits, else what ye will:
And to be short, man from himselfe
age takes and wasteth still.
Age leaueth vnto man
only of man the name:
For what man was in times forepast,
now nothing like the same.
Then tell me this I pray,
whether it may be cald
Old age: or rather liuing death,
that thus mans life hath thrald?
thereby not to offend:
What is the cause that physicks art,
cannot old age defend?
By cunning and by skill,
great cures ye doo each day:
But age will not remoued be,
nor yet kept at a stay.
No physicks art ne drug,
nor potion can ye make:
Can force old age for to exchange,
the place that he doth take.
52
yer ye can doo vs good:
That suddenly it quailes the strength,
and dooth forestall the blood.
Whereby the humour fresh
is brought vnto decay:
And gallant vigor of the mind,
is forst to flie awaie.
And looke what lustie age,
in yoonger yeares brought forth,
The same old age hath cleane defac't,
and made it nothing worth.
A thousand maladies
vpon old age depend:
Which peecemeale wise away do pluck
what fragrant youth did send.
Beautie is worne awaie,
fresh bloud is turn'd to blacke:
Wit is made dull, the memorie lost,
and liuelinesse dooth lacke.
Age makes our sleepes vnsure,
our eiesight for to faile:
Our courage and actiuitie,
our strength and all to quaile.
The vitall heat is cold,
delights are driuen to shore:
Nourishing iuice and breathing sweet,
are gone for euermore.
All merriments and sports,
53
And to be short, man from himselfe
age takes and wasteth still.
Age leaueth vnto man
only of man the name:
For what man was in times forepast,
now nothing like the same.
Then tell me this I pray,
whether it may be cald
Old age: or rather liuing death,
that thus mans life hath thrald?
O who is he can tell
the thing that dealeth thus:
That with such posting speed can steale,
our chiefest time from vs?
And that so hastilie,
can taint our golden yeares:
With groning greefes and great annoy,
prouoking bitter teares?
What stealing may this be,
it is vnegall sure,
That flouring age so soone should end,
no longer to endure?
And that before we know,
the goodnes of the thing:
They ready are vs to forsake,
by flight of speedy wing.
And sooner than we knew
or felt the life we craue:
We are forbidden by and by,
a longer life to haue.
Yet beasts of sundry kindes,
and fowles aloft that flie,
Aboue two hundred yeares doe liue,
before that they doo die.
The stag, the bucke, the Rauen,
the Elephant also,
So long doe liue in lustie plight,
and healthfullie doe shew.
But man, alas poore man,
before that he may clime
To fifty yeares, his bodily strength,
doth very much decline.
And if that he may reach
to threescore yeares or more:
His waining wit and memorie
is weaker than before.
The Thebans held a law,
who threescore yeares did liue:
If after that he then fell sicke,
none might him physicke giue.
That age obtainde, say they,
himselfe ought not to bend,
Longer to liue, but hasten forth,
vnto his iournies end.
Experience dooth confirme,
and proueth this too true:
That lately such as lustie were,
in valor, strength, and hue,
Are now through age become,
all crooked to behold:
Their heads with white bespeckled are,
their heat is turnde to cold.
The frost their beards hath caught,
which maketh them to thinke,
How that the spring of their greene age,
is past and still doth shrinke.
the thing that dealeth thus:
That with such posting speed can steale,
our chiefest time from vs?
And that so hastilie,
can taint our golden yeares:
With groning greefes and great annoy,
prouoking bitter teares?
What stealing may this be,
it is vnegall sure,
That flouring age so soone should end,
no longer to endure?
And that before we know,
the goodnes of the thing:
They ready are vs to forsake,
by flight of speedy wing.
54
or felt the life we craue:
We are forbidden by and by,
a longer life to haue.
Yet beasts of sundry kindes,
and fowles aloft that flie,
Aboue two hundred yeares doe liue,
before that they doo die.
The stag, the bucke, the Rauen,
the Elephant also,
So long doe liue in lustie plight,
and healthfullie doe shew.
But man, alas poore man,
before that he may clime
To fifty yeares, his bodily strength,
doth very much decline.
And if that he may reach
to threescore yeares or more:
His waining wit and memorie
is weaker than before.
The Thebans held a law,
who threescore yeares did liue:
If after that he then fell sicke,
none might him physicke giue.
That age obtainde, say they,
himselfe ought not to bend,
Longer to liue, but hasten forth,
vnto his iournies end.
Experience dooth confirme,
55
That lately such as lustie were,
in valor, strength, and hue,
Are now through age become,
all crooked to behold:
Their heads with white bespeckled are,
their heat is turnde to cold.
The frost their beards hath caught,
which maketh them to thinke,
How that the spring of their greene age,
is past and still doth shrinke.
O flitting youth adieu,
age makes all things decline:
O too too short a fading floure,
of transitorie time:
Which by no waie nor art,
can be repair'd againe:
The winter cold the heat hath nipt,
and ransackt euerie vaine.
O greene and sprouting yeares,
ô gallant youth that's past:
What sweet and pleasant merry daies,
were spent while you did last?
O happy time of life,
how slily doth it passe:
And steales away making exchange
for purest gold but brasse.
How closely is it gone,
and not perceiu'd at all:
And glides away as doe the streames,
which downe a riuer fall?
More swift it may be said,
than emptie clouds that flie
By force of winds that tosse them round
in compasse of the skie.
Like dreames that passe awaie,
within our sleepes we see:
When we awake nothing there is,
of that we dreamt to bee.
The sweet and fragrant rose,
now delicate in sight:
Within short time all withered is,
and turnd as daie to night.
And so likewise of man,
from child to man doth grow:
From man againe a childe becoms,
old age will haue it so.
age makes all things decline:
O too too short a fading floure,
of transitorie time:
Which by no waie nor art,
can be repair'd againe:
The winter cold the heat hath nipt,
and ransackt euerie vaine.
O greene and sprouting yeares,
ô gallant youth that's past:
What sweet and pleasant merry daies,
were spent while you did last?
O happy time of life,
how slily doth it passe:
And steales away making exchange
for purest gold but brasse.
How closely is it gone,
56
And glides away as doe the streames,
which downe a riuer fall?
More swift it may be said,
than emptie clouds that flie
By force of winds that tosse them round
in compasse of the skie.
Like dreames that passe awaie,
within our sleepes we see:
When we awake nothing there is,
of that we dreamt to bee.
The sweet and fragrant rose,
now delicate in sight:
Within short time all withered is,
and turnd as daie to night.
And so likewise of man,
from child to man doth grow:
From man againe a childe becoms,
old age will haue it so.
While that the little boy,
with top and scurge gan plaie:
And while the stripling goes to schoole,
his grammer part to say.
While those of further yeares,
phylosophie doe read,
And cull the bloomes of Rhetorike,
and figures finely spread.
While they themselues delight,
in poets fables vaine:
And while they range in arguments,
which Logicke can maintaine.
While they the time imploie,
to publish matters small:
(Though of no weight) by eloquence
to shew their skill withall.
While like the bee they skip,
from bloome to blossome blowne:
And for their purpose sucke the fruit,
by sundrie authors sowne.
While they disposed so,
by studie to attaine,
The knowledge of the liberall arts,
no labor doe refraine.
And while that without end,
their troubled braines they beat,
To find out euerie facultie,
grafted in science seat.
While they the Greeke translate,
in Latine for to goe:
And Latine into Greeke likewise,
their cunning forth to shew.
While forren toongs they seeke,
their knowledge to maintaine:
And feare not to transfret the seas,
and Alpes to clime with paine.
While they themselues acquaint,
with countries that be strange,
With forré courts, with things vnknown
and other things of change.
While they thus busie be,
stiffe age comes stealing in,
And laies his crutch vpon their back
and dooth the maistrie win:
So much that they be driuen,
to maruell and to muse:
How that their strength so suddenly,
should them faile or refuse.
And though the same they feele,
yet not perswaded are:
That lustie gallant youth of theirs,
should be remoou'd so far.
with top and scurge gan plaie:
And while the stripling goes to schoole,
his grammer part to say.
While those of further yeares,
phylosophie doe read,
And cull the bloomes of Rhetorike,
and figures finely spread.
While they themselues delight,
57
And while they range in arguments,
which Logicke can maintaine.
While they the time imploie,
to publish matters small:
(Though of no weight) by eloquence
to shew their skill withall.
While like the bee they skip,
from bloome to blossome blowne:
And for their purpose sucke the fruit,
by sundrie authors sowne.
While they disposed so,
by studie to attaine,
The knowledge of the liberall arts,
no labor doe refraine.
And while that without end,
their troubled braines they beat,
To find out euerie facultie,
grafted in science seat.
While they the Greeke translate,
in Latine for to goe:
And Latine into Greeke likewise,
their cunning forth to shew.
While forren toongs they seeke,
their knowledge to maintaine:
And feare not to transfret the seas,
and Alpes to clime with paine.
While they themselues acquaint,
58
With forré courts, with things vnknown
and other things of change.
While they thus busie be,
stiffe age comes stealing in,
And laies his crutch vpon their back
and dooth the maistrie win:
So much that they be driuen,
to maruell and to muse:
How that their strength so suddenly,
should them faile or refuse.
And though the same they feele,
yet not perswaded are:
That lustie gallant youth of theirs,
should be remoou'd so far.
Alas why should we then,
so carefullie appeare:
As to consume our golden age,
with search of trifles here:
As pearles and gems of price,
of gold and siluer pure:
Of scarlet, silke, and cloth of gold,
which may not long endure:
And wastfully consume,
and wilfully to spend
Our golden yeares in vanities,
and all to no good end?
Againe, if that those things,
which transitorie be:
Were lost or stolne or burnt with fire,
there is a meane we see.
The same may be in time,
recouered againe:
If thou as poore as Codrus were,
or Irus did remaine:
Yet hope to be as rich,
as Crassus heretofore:
Or that thy substance and thy wealth,
may match with Crœsus store.
But as for creeping age,
when Clotho hath begun:
Vpon hir clew thy thred to wind,
that Lachesis had spun,
Can neuer be reuok't,
againe to be vntwinde:
By no inchantment, charme, or force,
that wit of man can finde.
so carefullie appeare:
As to consume our golden age,
with search of trifles here:
As pearles and gems of price,
of gold and siluer pure:
Of scarlet, silke, and cloth of gold,
which may not long endure:
And wastfully consume,
and wilfully to spend
Our golden yeares in vanities,
and all to no good end?
Againe, if that those things,
59
Were lost or stolne or burnt with fire,
there is a meane we see.
The same may be in time,
recouered againe:
If thou as poore as Codrus were,
or Irus did remaine:
Yet hope to be as rich,
as Crassus heretofore:
Or that thy substance and thy wealth,
may match with Crœsus store.
But as for creeping age,
when Clotho hath begun:
Vpon hir clew thy thred to wind,
that Lachesis had spun,
Can neuer be reuok't,
againe to be vntwinde:
By no inchantment, charme, or force,
that wit of man can finde.
Not Circes with hir charme,
nor Mercurie with his rod:
Nor yet Medea with hir drugs,
can stay this worke of God.
If Iupiter himselfe,
thy bellie full would fill,
With Nectar and Ambrosia,
which some of learned skil
Haue writ that by such things,
youth still they might maintaine:
And banish old age in exile,
for euer to remaine.
No, no, it will not be,
though that Aurora faire,
Would day by daie thy bodie bath,
with deaw of heauenly aire.
No, though ten thousand times,
sweet Venus for to please,
Thou paine thy selfe as Phao did,
to ferry Chyos seas.
No, though Chiron himselfe,
should vnto thee applie,
All soueraigne hearbs that spring or grow
on earth beneath the skie.
Nothing there is can stop,
the course of yeares that slide:
Nor keepe them from our weary backe
but must the same abide.
In deed of tales we read,
and fables haue beene told:
How Orpheus and Amphion,
with other poets old,
Haue by their magicke art,
made riuers still to staie:
And to returne vnto those springs,
backeward another waie.
Diana stopt hir coach,
Phœbus his steeds so staid:
He made his chariot still to stand,
And listen what they said.
Well let these idle tales
Be thought vpon no more:
[illeg.] If they could such things haue wroght
As heere is said before:
So neuer might they bring,
The age thou once possest,
[illeg.] keepe thee in the age thou art,
While life is in thy breast.
And yet the sunne goes downe,
and takes his beames awaie:
And doth arise most gloriouslie,
The next insuing day.
The moone a waining hath,
But afterward a change:
And doth receiue hir former light,
And reuolution strange.
After growes yong againe,
His frostie cold once spent:
After turn'd into a spring,
That doth vs well content.
And yet the state of age,
That flits awaie so fast:
And when the summer time thereof,
once consum'd and past:
[illeg.] that the winter sharpe,
With horie frost and cold:
On the head and withered face,
with snow hath taken hold:
No hope is then at all,
for any spring to crie,
Nor yet for any Ver to come,
where root and stocke is drie.
nor Mercurie with his rod:
Nor yet Medea with hir drugs,
can stay this worke of God.
If Iupiter himselfe,
thy bellie full would fill,
With Nectar and Ambrosia,
which some of learned skil
Haue writ that by such things,
60
And banish old age in exile,
for euer to remaine.
No, no, it will not be,
though that Aurora faire,
Would day by daie thy bodie bath,
with deaw of heauenly aire.
No, though ten thousand times,
sweet Venus for to please,
Thou paine thy selfe as Phao did,
to ferry Chyos seas.
No, though Chiron himselfe,
should vnto thee applie,
All soueraigne hearbs that spring or grow
on earth beneath the skie.
Nothing there is can stop,
the course of yeares that slide:
Nor keepe them from our weary backe
but must the same abide.
In deed of tales we read,
and fables haue beene told:
How Orpheus and Amphion,
with other poets old,
Haue by their magicke art,
made riuers still to staie:
And to returne vnto those springs,
backeward another waie.
Diana stopt hir coach,
Phœbus his steeds so staid:
61
And listen what they said.
Well let these idle tales
Be thought vpon no more:
[illeg.] If they could such things haue wroght
As heere is said before:
So neuer might they bring,
The age thou once possest,
[illeg.] keepe thee in the age thou art,
While life is in thy breast.
And yet the sunne goes downe,
and takes his beames awaie:
And doth arise most gloriouslie,
The next insuing day.
The moone a waining hath,
But afterward a change:
And doth receiue hir former light,
And reuolution strange.
After growes yong againe,
His frostie cold once spent:
After turn'd into a spring,
That doth vs well content.
And yet the state of age,
That flits awaie so fast:
And when the summer time thereof,
once consum'd and past:
[illeg.] that the winter sharpe,
With horie frost and cold:
On the head and withered face,
62
No hope is then at all,
for any spring to crie,
Nor yet for any Ver to come,
where root and stocke is drie.
There resteth now but this,
of remedies the best:
Which is, that death those euils shalt
and set the soule at rest.
We learne for to be wise,
too late when youth is gone:
And doe begin to muse thereof,
when remedie is none.
We then bewaile our life
in vanitie mispent:
And doo detest those wilfull waies,
we did in youth frequent.
We curse that now in age,
which youth delighted in:
And that which then most sweet did:
is now most bitter sin.
The thoughts thereof torment
our guiltie conscience sore,
With greefe and paine we doe lament
our youth abusde before.
And to our selues gan saie,
what treasure haue we spilt:
And reapt thereby vnto ourselues,
but sorrow, death, and guilt?
Our life God knowes is short,
vncertaine of the same:
Do thinke on time so vainlie spent,
might make vs blush with shame.
From sleepe let vs awake,
and rise from sin at last,
High time it is for to repent,
our former follies past.
Our youth hath taken horsse,
and posteth day by daie,
To cite and summon pale face death,
with speed to come away.
Death is the true refuge,
the onely perfect health:
And dooth deserue to be embrast,
before all worldlie wealth.
Death is the thing most deare,
the best thing to be had:
It is a thing that God hath giuen,
wherewith to make vs glad.
So man with his estate
Contented is we see:
All those that lie asleepe in graue,
they well contented be.
The graue is a strong fort,
Wherein our selues we shut,
Upon the assaults of yrkesome life,
And broiles of Fortunes cut.
The dead we know doo rest,
as in a hauen of ease:
Where those that liue doe saile in [illeg.]
of rough and raging seas.
Death is vnto the euill,
a whip of smarting paine:
And to the good a sweet reward,
of euerlasting gaine.
of remedies the best:
Which is, that death those euils shalt
and set the soule at rest.
We learne for to be wise,
too late when youth is gone:
And doe begin to muse thereof,
when remedie is none.
We then bewaile our life
in vanitie mispent:
And doo detest those wilfull waies,
we did in youth frequent.
We curse that now in age,
which youth delighted in:
And that which then most sweet did:
is now most bitter sin.
The thoughts thereof torment
our guiltie conscience sore,
With greefe and paine we doe lament
our youth abusde before.
And to our selues gan saie,
what treasure haue we spilt:
And reapt thereby vnto ourselues,
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Our life God knowes is short,
vncertaine of the same:
Do thinke on time so vainlie spent,
might make vs blush with shame.
From sleepe let vs awake,
and rise from sin at last,
High time it is for to repent,
our former follies past.
Our youth hath taken horsse,
and posteth day by daie,
To cite and summon pale face death,
with speed to come away.
Death is the true refuge,
the onely perfect health:
And dooth deserue to be embrast,
before all worldlie wealth.
Death is the thing most deare,
the best thing to be had:
It is a thing that God hath giuen,
wherewith to make vs glad.
So man with his estate
Contented is we see:
All those that lie asleepe in graue,
they well contented be.
The graue is a strong fort,
Wherein our selues we shut,
Upon the assaults of yrkesome life,
And broiles of Fortunes cut.
64
as in a hauen of ease:
Where those that liue doe saile in [illeg.]
of rough and raging seas.
Death is vnto the euill,
a whip of smarting paine:
And to the good a sweet reward,
of euerlasting gaine.
The common custome is,
to flatter them that liue:
And of the dead reprochfull words,
and ill reports to giue.
But sure the fault is great,
to speake ill of the dead,
Who harme them not but quietlie,
doe rest within their bed.
As no man is so good,
but better might haue beene:
So no man liues that is so bad,
but worsser name might win.
For as there is some cause,
a man for to dispraise:
So in the same some vertue dwels
that his renowme might raise.
And therefore of the dead,
I wish to speake the best:
And praise the vertues which they had
and let their vices rest.
[illeg.] our course direct,
while perfect mind we haue:
And set our compasse toward Christ,
who onely must vs saue.
Let him from henceforth now
our onely studie be,
Our pleasant muse, our cheefe delight,
our ioy and libertie.
Let vs not care at all,
for worldlie matters vaine:
As for the bodie, so the soule
with Iesus Christ remaine.
While soule and bodie both,
shall at the iudgement daie,
[illeg.]ed be and sentence heare,
which Christ himselfe shall say.
Which grant ô father deare,
for Christ his sake thy sonne,
[illeg.] be vnto our endlesse ioy,
The life that is to come.
to flatter them that liue:
And of the dead reprochfull words,
and ill reports to giue.
But sure the fault is great,
to speake ill of the dead,
Who harme them not but quietlie,
doe rest within their bed.
As no man is so good,
but better might haue beene:
So no man liues that is so bad,
but worsser name might win.
For as there is some cause,
a man for to dispraise:
So in the same some vertue dwels
that his renowme might raise.
And therefore of the dead,
I wish to speake the best:
And praise the vertues which they had
and let their vices rest.
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while perfect mind we haue:
And set our compasse toward Christ,
who onely must vs saue.
Let him from henceforth now
our onely studie be,
Our pleasant muse, our cheefe delight,
our ioy and libertie.
Let vs not care at all,
for worldlie matters vaine:
As for the bodie, so the soule
with Iesus Christ remaine.
While soule and bodie both,
shall at the iudgement daie,
[illeg.]ed be and sentence heare,
which Christ himselfe shall say.
Which grant ô father deare,
for Christ his sake thy sonne,
[illeg.] be vnto our endlesse ioy,
The life that is to come.
Amen.
FINIS.
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