The golden Garland of Princely pleasures and delicate Delights ::

The golden Garland of Princely pleasures and delicate Delights

Wherein is conteined the Histories of many of the Kings, Queenes, Princes, Lords, Ladies, Knights and Gentlewomen of this Kingdome. Being most pleasant Songs and Sonnets to sundry new Tunes now most in vse. The third time Imprinted, enlarged and corrected by Rich. Iohnson. Deuided into two Parts

Johnson, Richard (1573-1659?)

THE GOLDEN Garland of Princely pleasures and delicate Delights.

[The First Part.]

The Second Part of the Golden Garland.

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THE GOLDEN Garland of Princely pleasures and delicate Delights.

Wherein is conteined the Histories of many of the Kings, Queenes, Princes, Lords, Ladies, Knights, and Gentlewomen of this Kingdome.

1. [The First Part.]

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[Square brackets denote editorial additions or emendations.]

A Lamentable Song of the death of King Leare and his three DAVGHTERS.

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To the tune of, When flying Fame.

King Leare once ruled in this Land
with princely power and peace
And had all things with hearts content,
that might his ioyes encrease.
Amongst those guifts that nature gaue,
three daughters faire had he,
So princely seeming beautifull,
as fayrer could not be.

So on a time it pleasd the King,
a question thus to mooue,
Which of his daughters to his grace,
could shew the dearest loue:
For to my age you bring content,
(quoth he) then let me heare,
Which of you three in plighted troth,
the kindest will appeare.

To whom the eldest thus began,

deare father mine (quoth she)
Before your face to doe you good,
my blood shall tendred be.
And for your sake my bleeding heart,
shall heere be cut in twaine,
Ere that I see your reuerent age,
the smallest griefe sustaine.

And so will I the second said,
deare father, for your sake,
The worst of all extremities,
ile gently vndertake.
And serue your highnesse night and day,
with diligence and loue:
That sweet content and quietnesse,
discomforts may remoue.

In doing so you glad my soule,
the aged King replyed.
But what sayst thou my yongest Girle,
How is thy loue allyed.
My loue quoth yong Cordela then,
which to your grace I owe,
Shall be the duty of a childe,
and that is all ile shew.

And wilt thou shew no more (quoth he)
then doth thy duty binde:

I well perceiue thy loue is small,
when as no more I finde.
Hence forth I banish thee my Court,
thou art no child of mine,
Nor any part of this my Realme,
by fauour shall be thine.

Thy elder sisters loues are more,
then well I can demand:
To whome I equally bestow,
my kingdome and my land.
My pompall state and all my goods,
that louingly I may
With these thy sisters be maintaind,
vntill my dying day.

Thus flattering speeches won renowne,
by these two sisters here:
The third had causelesse banishment,
yet was her loue more deare:
For poore Cordela patiently
went wandring vp and downe,
Unhelpt, vnpittied, gentle maid.
through many an English towne.

Untill at last in famous France,
she gentler fortunes found,
Though poore and bare, yet was she deemd,

the fairest on the ground:
Where when the King her vertues heard,
and his faire Lady seene,
With full consent of all his Court,
he made his wife and Queene.

Her father, old King Leare, this while,
with his two daughters stayed:
Forgetfull of their promisd loues,
full soone the same denaide.
And liuing in Queene Ragans Court,
the elder of the twaine,
She tooke from him his chiefest meanes,
and most of all his traine.

For whereas twenty men were wont,
to waite with bended knee:
She gaue allowance but to ten,
and after scarce to three.
Nay, one she thought too much for him,
so tooke she all away:
In hope that in her Court, good King,
he would no longer stay.

Am I rewarded thus, quoth he,
in giuing all I haue
Unto my children, and to beg,
for what I lately gaue.

Ile goe vnto my Gonorell,
my second child I know,
Will be more kinde and pittifull,
and will relieue my woe.

Full fast he hies then to her Court,
where when she heard his moane,
Returnd him answer, that she grieude,
that all his meanes were gone.
But no way could relieue his wants,
yet if that he would stay.
Within her Kitchin, he should haue,
what Scullions gaue away.

When he had heard with bitter teares,
he made his answer then,
In what I did let me be made
example to all men.
I will returne againe, quoth he
vnto my Ragans Court,
She will not vse me thus I hope,
but in a kinder sort.

Where when he came, shee gaue command,
to driue him thence away:
When he was well within her Court,
(she said) he could not stay.
Then backe againe to Gonorell,

the wofull King did hie:
That in her kitching he might haue
what Scullion boyes set by.

But there of that he was denied,
which she had promis'd late:
For one refusing he should not,
come after to her gate.
Thus twixt his daughters for reliefe,
he wandred vp and downe,
Being glad to feed on beggers food,
that lately wore a Crowne.

And calling to remembrance then,
his yongest daughters words,
That said, the duty of a childe,
had all that loue affords.
But doubting to repaire to her,
whom he had banisht so:
Grew franticke mad, for in his minde,
he bore the wounds of woe.

Which made him rend his milk while locks
and tresses from his head:
And all with blood bestaine his cheekes,
with age and honour spred:
To hils, and woods, and watry founts,
he made, his hourely moane:

Till hils and woods, and sencelesse things,
did seeme to sigh and groane.

Euen thus possest with discontents,
he passed ore to France,
In hope from faire Cordela there,
to find some gentler chance.
Most vertuous dame, where whē she heard,
of this her fathers griefe:
As duty bound, she quickly sent
him comfort and reliefe.

And by a traine of noble Peeres,
in braue and gallant sort,
She gaue in charge he should be brought
to Aganippus Court.
Her royall King, whose noble minde,
so freely gaue consent,
To muster vp his knights at armes
to fame and courage bent.

And so to England came with speed,
to repossesse King Leare:
And driue his daughters from their thrones
by his Cordela deare.
Where she true hearted noble Queene,
was in the battell slaine:
Yet he good King in his old dayes

possest his crowne againe.

But when he heard Cordela dead,
who dyed indeed for loue
Of her deare father, in whose cause
she did this battell mooue
He swounding fell vpon her brest,
from whence he neuer parted,
But on her bosome left his life,
that was so truely hearted.

The Lords and Nobles when they saw,
the end of these euents:
The other Sisters vnto death,
they doomed by consents
And being dead, their crownes were left,
vnto the next of kin,
Thus haue you heard the fall of pride
and disobedient sinne.

FINIS.

A new Song of the wooing of Queene Katherine,

by a gallant yong Gentleman of Wales named Owen Tudor: lately translated out of Welch into our English phrase.

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To the tune of, Light in leue Ladies.

Owen Tudor.
I salute thee, sweet Princesse, with titles of grace,
For Cupid commands me in heart to embrace
Thy honours, thy vertues, thy fauour, and beauty,
With all my true seruice, my loue and my duty.

Queene Katherine.
Courteous kind gentleman, let me request,
How comes it that Cupid hath wounded thy brest,
And chaind thy hearts liking, my seruant to proue,
That am but a stranger in this thy kind loue.

Owen Tudor.
If but a stranger, yet loue hath such power,
To lead me heere kindly vnto a Queenes bower,
Then doe not (sweet Princesse) my good will forsake
When nature commands thee a true loue to take.

Queene Katherine.
So royall of calling, and birth I am knowne.
That matching vnequall, my state is ore-throwne,
My titles of dignity thereby I loose,
To wed me and bed me, my equall Ile choose.

Owen Tudor.
No honours are lost, Queene, in chusing of me,
For I am a gentleman borne by degree,
And fauours of Princes my state may aduance,
In making me noble by fortunate chance.

Queene Katherine.
My robes of rich honours most braue to behold,
Are all ore imbossed with siluer and gold,

Not therewith adorned I loose my renowne,
With all the braue titles that waits on a Crowne.

Owen Tudor.
My Countrey sweet Princesse more pleasure affords
Then can be expressed heere by me in words:
Such kindly contentments by nature there springs
That hath beene well liked of Queenes & of Kings

Queene Katherine.
My courtly attendants, are traines of delight,
Like stars of faire heauen all shining most bright:
And those that liue daily such pleasures to see,
Suppose no such comforts in countrey can be.

Owen Tudor.
In Wales we haue fountains no christal more cleare
Where murmuring musick we daily may heare:
With gardens of pleasure, and flowers so sweet,
UUhere true loue with true loue may merrily meet.

Queene Katherine.
But there is no tilting nor tornaments bold,
Which gallant yong Ladies desire to behold:
No maskes nor no reuels where fauours are worne
By Knights or by Barons without any scorne.

Owen Tudor.
Our May-poles at Whitsontide maketh good sport,
And moues as sweet pleasure as yours doe in court:
UUhere on the green dancing for garland and ring,
Maidens make pastime and sports for a King.

Queene Katherine.

But when your braue yong men & maidens do meet,
Your musicke is clownish and soundeth not sweet,
UUhilest siluer-like melody murmuring keepes
And rocks vp our senses in heauenly sleepes.

Owen Tudor.
Our Harps & our Tabors & sweet humming drones,
For thee my sweet Princesse make musicall moanes:
Our Morris-Maid Marrians desire for to see
A True-loue-knot tyed betwixt thee and me.

Queene Katherine.
No pleasures in Countrey by me can be seene
That haue beene mainteined so long heere a Queene,
And fed on the blessings that dayly were giuen
Into my braue Pallace by Angels from heauen.

Owen Tudor.
Our greene leaued trees will dance with the winde,
Where birds sit reioycing according to kinde,
Our sheepe with their Lambes wil skip it ful round,
To see thee come tripping along on the ground.

Queene Katherine.
What if a kind Princesse should so be content,
By meeknesse thus mooued to giue her consent:
And humble her honors, imbace her degree,
To tye her best fortunes braue Tudor to thee.

Owen Tudor.
If to a Kingdome I borne were by birth,
And had at commandment all nations on earth,
Their crownes & their scepters should lie at thy feet

And thou be made Empresse, my darling so sweet.

Queene Katherine.
I feare yet to fancy thy loue tempting tongue,
For Cupid is cunning, his bow very strong,
Queen Venus once mistris of heart wishing pleasure
We ouer kind women repent vs at leasure.

Owen Tudor.
May neuer faire morning shew forth his bright beames,
But couer my falsehood with darkest extreames.
If not as the Turtle I liue with my Doue,
My gentle kind Princesse, my Lady, my Loue.

Queene Katherine.
Hye then into Wales and our wedding prouide,
For thou art my Bridegroome, & Ile be thy Bride,
Get gloues and fiue ribbons with bridelaces faire,
Of silke and of siluer for Ladies to weare.

Owen Tudor.
With garlands of Roses, our huswifely wiues,
To haue thee adorned all louingly striues,
Their bride-cakes be ready, our bag-pipes do play,
Whilst I stand attending to lead thee the way.

Both together.
Then marke how the notes of our merry towne bels
Our dingdong of pleasure most cheerefully tels:
Then dingdong faire Ladies and louers all true,
This dingdong of pleasure may satisfie you.

FINIS.

A Princely song of King Richard Cordelion King of England, of his bold courage, and lamentable death.

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To the tune of, You Batchelers that braue it.

Of a noble Christian Warriour,
King Richard of this Land,
For fame amongst our worthies braue,
now orderly may stand:
The God of battels gaue him still
a gallant great command,
To fight for our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

Richard Cordelion in this Land,
a noble English name,
That fils the world with wonders great,
with honour and with fame,
Then gallantly good Souldiers all,
come thunder out the same,
That fights for our Sauiour Iesus Christ

When as faire Hierusalem,
the City of our Lord,
Lay mourning all in heauinesse,
consumed by the sword.
To succour her, all Christendome
did willingly accord,
And to fight for our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

Then marched forth most braue and bold,
King Richard from this land:
Of noble Knights and Gentlemen,
with him a warlike band:
To fight for Iesus Christ his name,
so long as they could stand,
All souldiers of our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

But by the way such chances then,
King Richard did betide:
That many of his soldiers,
for want of victuall dyed:
A new supply this noble King,
was forced to prouide.
To fight for our Sauiour Iesus Christ

The mighty Duke of Austria.
to whome he came for ayd,
For all his Kingly curtesies,
his succors were denayd.
But tooke him prisoner cowardly,
where ransome must be paid,
And not fight for our Sauiour Iesus Christ

His noble Knights and Soldiers then,
with sorrow went away:
Wofully complaining all,
that ere they saw that day:

That such a Noble King as he,
a prisoner there should stay,
And not fight for our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

While they were here prouiding
a ransome for his Grace,
The Dukes owne Sonne vnreuerently,
King Richard did abase:
For which with one small boxe oth eare,
he kild him in that place,
In honour of our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

UUith that into a Dungeon deepe,
this noble King was cast:
UUhile as a Lyon (all in rage)
prouided was in haste,
To combate with this famous King,
so long as life did last,
The souldier of our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

But gentle pitty moued much,
the Daughter of the Duke:
Whom deepely wounded was with loue,
proceeding from his looke,
For which to saue his Princely life,
she kindly vndertooke:
In honour of our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

A rich imbroydered scarfe of silke,
she secretly conuaid,
Into the Dungeon where the King,
his execution staid:
The which to saue his gentle life,
an instrument was made.
In honor of our Sauiour Iesus Christ,

For when the hunger starued beast,
into the Dungeon came:
With open mouth to swallow him,
he nimbly tooke the same:
And stoutly thrust it downe his throat,
the Lyon thus to tame.
In honor of our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

And so with valiant courage, he
puld out the Lions heart:
Which made the Duke and all his Lords,
in fearefull manner start:
To see this royall English King,
to play so braue a part:
In honor of our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

I am no prisoner said the King,
for I am now set free:
The country and our law of Armes,
commands it so to be.

And thus to Englans blessed Land,
most ioyfully went he:
In honor of our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

But left [illeg.] rest loue behind,
that ge[illeg.]ud his life,
With [illeg.] to returne againe,
to [illeg.] then his wife:
But tell [illeg.] and bloudy warre.
did breed them further strife.
In fighting for our Sauiour Iesus Christ,

The noble hearts of Englishmen,
that could indure no wrong:
For good King Richard mustred then,
a vailant Army strong,
To passe the seas to Acon Walls,
to lay the same along,
In honor of our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

So first consuming fire and sword,
into that countrey came,
Destroying all their Cities braue
and townes of ancient fame:
Till those the wrongs King Richard had,
were righted by the same.
In honour of our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

But in his prime of Martiall worth,
this noble King was slaine,
For wounded with a poysoned shaft,
that pierst his Princely braine,
Much sorrowing mone was long time made
amongst his warlike traine.
Stil fighting for our Sauiour Iesu Christ.

But chiefly by his Lady faire
so loyall and so kinde:
That nothing but reuenge thereof
possessed still her minde:
To know the causer of his death,
were rich rewards assingd.
Thus to honour our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

Upon the murtherer being found
much cruelty was showne:
By her command his skinne aliue,
was flead from flesh and bone:
And after vnto ayery fowles
his body it was throwne:
In honour of our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

Yet ended not this Ladies griefe,
for him she loude so deare:
Deepe sorrowes euen broke her heart,
as plainely did appeare:

And both were buried in one graue,
thus true loues end you heare.
That dyed for our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

Did euer Lady for her loue,
more strangely vndertake:
Did euer Daughter in this kind
a grieued father make:
Did euer Princesse end her life,
thus for her true loues sake.
And for our Sauiour Iesus Christ.

FINIS.

A gallant Song of the Garter of England and how it was made first an honour to this Kingdome by King Edward the third.

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To the tune of, When Arthur first, &c.

When as third Edward ruld this Land:
And was our English king:
He had good speed in all his fight
braue conquest home to bring:
Two Kingly Crownes vpon his sword,
In sumptuous sort was borne:
Most gallantly to grace the third,
that on his head was worne.

Thus three in one made Englands fame,
through all the world to shine:
Which well might clame a titled grace,
amongst our worthies nine:
Seauen princely Sonnes he likewise had,
whose vertues wonne him prayse,
From one fayre Queene descended all,
in beauties blooming dayes,

His Earles and Barons brauely bent,
to practise Knightly deeds:
To breake the Launce to runne at Ring,
to backe their barbed steedes:
Which made the world thinke, Mars his Court
was kept in England here
UUhen Englands Peeres made forraine lands
to quake with trembling feare.

King Edwards raigne rung ecchoing thus,
through euery Christian Court,
Of whom the noblest Prince that liued
gaue sounds of braue report.
Right valiant King, himselfe likewise,
his Country to aduance:
UUith many of his Peeres ariud,
within the Court of France.

And there by Tilts and Tournies braue,

such honours did obtaine,
As Mars himselfe in glistering steele,
the prize from them would gaine:
So braue and bold his Barons were,
and so successefull then,
That none of all the Lords of France,
were like our English men.

Thus many moneths he with his Peeres
spent there with braue delights,
Whose dayly sports concluded were
by reueling at nights:
Where Measure and Carantoes fine,
so gract the Court of France:
As if Queene Iuno with her Ioue,
had brauely led the daunce.

Amongst which glorious troope of Dames,
that richly sate to see,
The French Queene there aboue the rest
the fairest seemd to be,
Whom English Edward by the hand,
in curteous manner tooke,
To dance withall, at which the French,
gaue many a scornefull looke.

But Edward still like Mars himselfe,
with countenance and grace,

By Courtship won great liking there,
from all within that place.
King Edward pleasd the Princely Queene
the Queene king Edward well,
But as they daunct, there from her leg,
by chance her garter fell.

The which king Edward soone tooke vp,
And it in kindnesse wore,
For fauour and for curtesies
he to her vertues bore.
But some there present gaue forth words,
The Queene of purpose lost
Her garter there for him to find
whom she affected most.

But when she heard these ill conceits
And speeches that they made,
Hony soyt qui mal y pens,
the noble Princes said.
Ill hap to them that euill thinke,
In English it is thus
Which words so wise (quoth Englands King)
shall surely goe with vs,

And for her sake shall Englands Peeres,
In honour of our land,
A Garter weare, and in the same,

these words in gold shall stand.
That all the world may nobly speake,
Our garter came from France,
In Princely manner named thus,
our Countrey to aduance.

The Tilts and Reuels thus had end,
That long had lasted there:
And home our King and Nobles came
with mirth and meery cheere:
Where soone he brauely did create,
Full many a Lordly Knight,
To weare this golden Garter faire,
So sumptuous and so bright.

And named them S. Georgies knights,
And of this Garter braue:
As noble an order of estate,
as any King can haue,
Which Knights vpon S. Georges day,
Still their precession goes,
Through Englands Court in robes of gold
and most delightfull shoes.

At windsor is this Order kept,
where kings be of the same,
And forraigne Princes much desire,
the honours of that name.

Third Edward first began this grace,
of knight-hood to his praise:
Which still is kept with high renowne,
in our King Iames his dayes.

Ten English Kings haue been thereof,
of Princes and of Peeres
A number great, whose honors liu'd,
most braue in ancient yeares:
And at this day of Dukes and Lords,
our land hath honoured store:
Whose names and fames the Lord increase
and make them more and more.

FINIS.

A lamentable Ditty on the death of the Lord Guilford Dudley, and the Lady Iane Gray,

that for their parents ambition, in seeking to make these two yong Princes King and Queene of England, were both beheaded in the Tower of London.

[_]

To the tune of, Peter and Parnell.

VVhen as King Edward left this life
In yong and tender blooming yeeres,
Began such deadly hate and strife,
That filled England full of feares:
Ambition in those ancient dayes.

More then ten thousand, thousand, thousand
thousand troubles did arise.

Northumberland being made a Duke,
Ambitiously doth seeke the crowne,
And Suffolke for the same did looke,
To put Queene Maries title downe.
That was King Henries daughter bright,
And Queen of England, England, England
and King Edwards heire by right.

Lord Guilford and the Lady Iane,
Were wedded by their parents wils
The right from Mary so was tane,
Which drew them on to further ils:
But marke the end of this misdeed,
Mary was crowned, crowned, crowned,
and they to death decreed.

And being thus adiudged to die
For these their parents haughty aimes,
That thinking thus to mount on high,
Their children King & Queene proclaimes,
But in such aymes no blessings be,
When as ten thousand, thousand, thousand,
their shamefull endings see.

Sweet Princes they deserud no blame,

That thus must die for fathers cause:
And bearing of so great a name
To contradict our English lawes,
Let all men then conclude in this
That they are haples, haples, haples,
whose parents doe amisse.

Now who more great then they of late
Now who more wretched then they are:
And who more lofty in estate,
Thus sodenly consumd with care:
Then Princes all set downe this rest,
And say the golden, golden, golden,
golden meane is alwayes best.

Prepard at last drew on the day
Whereon these Princes both must die
Lord Guilford Dudley by the way
His dearest Lady did espye
whilst he vnto the blocke did goe
She in her window, weeping, weeping,
did lament his woe.

Their eyes that lookt for loue ere-while,
Now blubberd were with pearled teares,
And euery glance and louers smile
where turnd to dole and deadly feares:
Lord Guilfords life did bleeding lie,

Expecting Angels, Angels, Angels.
siluer wings to mount on hie.

His dearest Lady long did looke.
when she likewise to blocke should goe,
where sweetly praying on her booke,
She made no signe of outward woe:
But wisht that she had Angels wings,
To see that golden, golden, golden,
sight of heauenly things.

And mounting on the Scaffold then,
where Guilfords liuelesse body lay:
I come (quoth she) thou flower of men.
For death shall not my soule dismay:
The gates of heauen stand open wide,
To rest for euer, and euer, and euer,
and thus these gentle Princes dyed.

Their parents likewise lost their heads,
For climing thus one step too high:
Ambitious towers haue slippery leades,
And fearefull to a wise mans eye.
For ones amisse great houses fall,
Therfore take warning, warning, warning
by this you gallants all.

FINIS.

A ioyfull song of the deserued praises of good Queene Elizabeth,

how Princely she behaued her selfe at Tilbury Campe in 88. when the Spaniards threatned the inuasion of this Kingdome.

[_]

To the tune of, King Henries going to Bullaine

Of a Noble, Noble Princesse,
Englands late commanding Mistris,
King Henries daughter, faire Elizabeth,
She was such a maiden Queene,
As her like was neuer seene,
of any woman-kind vpon the earth.

Her name in golden numbers,
May written be with wonders
that liude beloued foure and forty yeares
And had the guift of nature all
That to a Princesse might befall,
as by her noble vertues well appeares.

With Maiesty admired,
Her subiects she required,
that loue for loue might equally be shown
Preferring a publique peace,
Then any priuate mans increase,
that quietly we stil may keepe our owne.

UUen Ambassies did come
From any Prince in Christendome,
her entertainments were so Princely sweet
She likewise knew what did belong
To euery language speech and tongue,
where grace & vertue did together meet.

No Princesse more could measure,
Her well beseeming pleasure.
in open Court amongst her Ladies faire:
For musicke and for portly gate
The world afforded not her mate,
so excellent her carriage was and faire.

Kingly states oppressed,
And such as were distressed,
with meanes and mony daily shee relieud:
As law of Nations did her bind,
To strangers she was euer kind,
and such as with calamities were grieued

And when into this kingdome,
Bloudy warres did threatning come,
her highnes would be ready with good wil
As it in eighty eight was seene,
UUhen as this thrice renowned Queene
gaue noble courage to her soldiers still.

This more then worthy woman,
Like to a noble Amazon:
in siluer plated Armour brauely went
Unto her Campe at Tilbery,
With many Knights of Chiualry,
coragiously her Army to content.

But being there ariued,
with noble heart she strined:
to giue them all what they desird to haue
A louely grace and countenance,
Smiling with perseuerance,
to whom so sweet a countenance she gaue.

Upon a Drumhead sitting,
As it was best befitting
for such a royall Princes thus to speake:
A Soldier I will liue and dye,
Feare shall neuer make me flye,
nor any danger leaue to vndertake.

With that amidst the Battle,
The Musquetires did rattle,
a peale of powder flaming all in fire:
The Cannons they did lowdly play,
To please her Maiesty that day:
which she in heart did louingly desire.

Her highnes thus delighted,
She roially requited
the noble captaines and the souldiers all:
For golden Angels flew amaine
Round about the warlike traine,
each one rewarded was both great & smal.

With that in noble manner,
To Englands fame and honour
the thundring shot began to play againe,
And for this royall princes sake,
Ratling made the ground to shake
in spight of all their enemies of Spaine.

The more to be commended,
She graciously befriended,
full many a worthy gentlemen that day:
By knighting them in noble sort,
As it had bin in Englands court,
such gallant graces had she euery way.

So freely kind and louing,
She was by her approuing,
to rich & poore that came vnto her grace:
Not any one but found her still,
A friend to good, a foe to ill,
and euer vertue sweetly would imbrace.

But now in heauens high Pallace,
She liues in ioy and solace,
committing all her charge vnto the King:
Of whose admired Maiesty,
Ruling vs so quietly,
reioycingly we Subiects all doe sing.

FINIS.

A new Song of the strange liues of two yong Princes in England, who became two Shepherds vpon Salisbury Plaine, and after restored to their former estates.

[_]

To the Tune of the Merchants man.

In Kingly Stephens raigne,
Two royall Dukes there was:
That all our other English Lords,
for greatnesse far did passe.
The one of Deuonshire namde,
that had a daughter faire:
Which he appointed at his death,
to be his only heire.

And her in loue commits,
Unto the Cornewall Duke:
Whom he with tendernes and care,
most kindly vndertooke.

The promise being made,
The Duke of Deuonshire dyes:
And all that Cornewall vow'd to doe,
he afterwards denies.

Yet well he educates the Maid,
That Maudlin she was growne:
The fairest Lady vnder Heauen,
for beauty being knowne.
And many Princes sought for loue,
But none might her obtaine:
For couetous Cornewall to himselfe,
the dukedome sought to gaine.

So on a time Prince Raymond chanc't,
This comely dame to see:
With whom he fell so deepe in loue,
as any Prince might be.
Unhappy youth what should he do,
She still was kept in mew:
Nor he nor any of his friends,
admitted to her view.

One while he melancholly pines,
Himselfe with griefe away:
Anon he thinkes by force of Armes,
to win her if he may.
Untill at length commanding loue,

Became to be his Iudge:
And chang d him soone from Lordly state,
into a kitching drudge.

And so accesse had he good Prince,
Her purpose to bewray:
But still faire Maudlins answere was,
she husbandlesse would stay.
Mean while her Gardiant beat his braines,
Her dukedome to atchiue:
Nor caring wat became of her,
so he by her might thriue.

And so resoluing that she should,
Unto some peasant wed:
And Raymond then suppos d a drudge,
should stand him in that stead.
But Maudlin marking his intent,
Unkindly takes that he,
Should bar the noblest match from her,
thus for a base degree.

The Lady shifting out of dores,
Departed thence by stealth:
Then thus with basenes for a match,
that might haue liu'd in wealth,
When Raymond heard of her escape,
with sad and grieued heart:

He left the pallace of the Duke,
and after did depart.

Forgetfull of himselfe and birth,
His country friends and all:
And minding onely her to seeke,
that thus had prou d his thrall:
Nor meanes he after to frequent,
The court of stately townes:
But liu'd with pinchings cares and griefe,
among the country grounds.

A brace of yeares vpon that plaine,
Neere Salisburie that lies:
In great content with feeding flockes,
a sheepeheards life he tries.
In hope his loue thereby to wast,
But then began againe,
within his heart a second loue,
the worser of the twaine.

A country wench, a Neatheards maid,
Where Raymond kept his sheepe:
Did feed her droue with whom this prince,
in loue was wounded deepe.
where sitting on the downy plaine,
And hauing small to do:
These sheepeheards there in friendly sort,

thus plainely gan to woe.

I know faire maid (quoth Raymond then,
And thou as well as I,
No maid there is that willingly,
with maidenhead would dye.
The Ploughmans labour hath no end,
And he will churlish proue:
The tradesman hath more worke in hand,
then doth belong to loue.

The Merchant venturing abroad,
Suspects his wife at home:
A youth will still the wanton play,
an old man proue a mome:
Then choose a sheepeheard (honny girle)
Whose life is merriest still:
For merrily he spends his daies,
thus on the faire greene hill.

And then at night when day is done,
Goes home from thence betime:
And in the fier turnes a crab,
and sings some merry rime.
Nor lackes he tales, whiles round about,
The nut-browne bowle doth trot:
And sitteth singing care away,
till he to bed be got.

There sleepes he soundly all the night,
Forgetting morrowes cares:
Nor feares the blasting of his corne,
nor vttering of his wares.
And this I know full well faire Lasse,
More quiet nights and daies,
The sheepeheard sleepes and wakes then he
whose cattle he doth graze.

A King I see is but a man,
And so sweet Lasse am I,
Content is worth a Monarchy,
and mischiefes shoot ful hye.
As late it did vnto a Duke,
Not dwelling far from hence,
Who had a daughter saue thy selfe,
on earth the fairest wench.

with that good soule he stayd and sight,
Speake on quoth she and tell,
How faire she was and who she was,
that thus did beare the bell:
She was (quoth he) of stately grace,
Of countenance most faire,
No maid aliue for beauties prize,
may well with her compare.

A Globe-like head, a golden hayre,

A forehead smooth and hie:
A seemely nose, on either side
did shine a graish eie.
Two rosie cheekes and ruddy lips,
white Iuory teeth within:
A mouth in meane and vnderneath
a round and dimpled chin.

A snow white necke with blewish vaines,
To make her seeme more faire:
Yea all her body framd so fine,
that earth had none more rare.
For life, for loue, for forme and face,
None fairer was then she:
And none but only she alone,
so faire a maid could be.

I knew the Lady well quoth she,
But worthlesse of such praise:
But credit me no sheepheard thou,
thy speeches so bewraies.
With that he wept and she was woe,
And both did silence keepe:
And equally perplext in loue,
they sate them downe to weepe.

In sooth quoth he I am not such,
As seeming I professe:

To be a princes sonne by birth,
my liking shewes no lesse.
In Scotland is my fathers court,
And Raymond is my name:
With Cornewals duke I liu'd in pomp,
till loue controld the same.

And did this Lady dearely loue,
Though she not loued me:
But all that loue is wasted quite,
and now I die for thee.
I grant quoth she you lou'd her well,
If that your loue were such:
Yet thinke of me your second loue,
in loue to be as much.

Your twice beloued Maudlin heere,
Submits herselfe to thee,
And what she could not at the first,
the second time shall be:
In fortune, not in person chang'd,
For I am still the same,
In heart and mind as chast and true,
as first to me you came.

Thus sweetly surfetting in ioy,
They tenderly imbrace:
And for their wished wedding day,

found fitting time and place.
And so these louely princes both,
Each other did befriend,
Where after many a hard mishap,
there loues had ioyfull end.

FINIS.

A Song of the deposing of King Richard the second, and how after many miseries hee was murthered in Pomphret Castle.

[_]

To the tune of, regard my sorrowes.

When Richard the second in England was King
And raigned with honor & state:
Sixe vncles he had his Grandfathers sons,
King Edwards that ruled of late.
All Counsellors noble and sage,
yet would he not heare
their precepts beare,
So wilfull he was in this his young age.

A sort of braue gallants he kept in his court
That traind him to wanton delight,
which parasites pleased him better in mind
then all his best Nobles and Knights:
Ambition and auarice grew
so great in this land,
that still from his hand,

A masse of rich treasure his parasites drew.

His peeres and his barons dishonored were
And vpstarts thus mounted on hie:
His commons sore taxed his cities opprest,
good subiects were nothing set by:
And what to his Coffers did come,
he wantonly spent,
to please with content,
His flattering vpstarts stil sporting at home

when thus vnto ruine this kingdom began
To fall from the highest estate:
The Nobles of England their Princes amisse,
by parliament soone did rebate.
And likewise those flatterers all,
they banisht the court,
that made but a sport,
To see this so famous a Kingdome to fall.

But after these galltās disgraded were thus
King Richard himselfe was put downe,
And Bullenbrooke Lankasters noble borne Duke,
by pollicie purchast his crowne:
Thus ciuill warres heere begun,
that could haue no end,
by foe nor by friend,
Till 7. kings raignes with their liues were out run.

But Richard the breeder of all these same broyles,
In prison was wofully cast:
where long he complained in sorrowful sort
of Kingly authority past:
No Lords nor no subiects had he,
no glory, no state,
that earely and late,
Upon him attending had wont for to be.

His robes were conuerted to garments so old,
That beggers would hardly them weare:
His dyet no comfort at all to him brought,
for he fed vpon sorrow and care:
And from prison to prison was sent,
each day and each night.
to worke him despight,
That wearied with sorrowes, he still might lament.

Good king thus abused he was at the last,
To Pomfret in Yorkeshire conuaid:
And there in a dungeon ful low in the groūd
vnpitied he nightly was laied.
Not one for his miserie grieued,
that late was in place,
of royallest grace,
where still the distressed he kindly relieu'd,

King Henry vsurping thus all his estate,

Could neuer in heart be content,
Till some of his friends in secrecy sought,
to kill him by cruell consent:
Who soone to Pomfret hied,
where as the feare,
that toucht him so neare,
They finisht so soon as K. Richard there died

Ther dyed this good king, for murthered he was
That might well haue liued full long,
Had not ill counsell betraied his best good,
and done his hie fortunes this wrong:
But blood for blood still calls,
no bloody staind hand,
can long in this land,
Stand surely, but soone vnto misery falls.

Lankaster thus the Diadem gaind,
And won his title by blood:
Which after by heauens hight power,
not three generations stood:
But yeelded to Yorke againe,
thus fortune showes,
their proud ouer throwes,
That cunningly climes an imperial raigne.

FINIS.

A song of an English Knight, that marryed the royall Princesse, Lady Mary, sister to King Henry the eight,

which Knight was afterward made Duke of Suffolke.

[_]

To the Tune of, Who list to lead a Souldiers life.

Eight Henry ruling in this land,
he had a sister faire:
That was the widdowed King of France,
inricht with vertues eare.
And being come to Englands Court,
She oft beheld a Kinght,
Charles Brandon namd, in whose faire eyes,
she cheifly tooke delight.

And noting in her Princely minde,
His gallent sweet behauiour:
Shee daily drew him by degrees,
still more and more in fauour:
which he perceiuing (courteous Knight)
Found fitting time and place,
And thus in amorous sort began,
his loue sure to her grace,

I ayme at loue faire Queene said he,
Sweet let your loue incline:
That by your grace Charles Brandon may

on earth be made diuine:
If worthlesse I might worthy be,
To haue so good a lot:
To please your highnesse in true loue,
my fancy doubteth not.

Or if that gentry might conuey
So great a grace to me:
I can maintaine the same by birth,
being come of good degree:
If wealth you thinke be all my want,
Your highnesse hath great store:
And my supplyment shall be loue,
what can you wish for more.

It hath been known when hearty loue,
Did tye the true loue knot
Though now if gold and siluer want
the marriage proueth not
The goodly Queene hereat did blush
But made a dumbe reply:
Which he imagind what she meant
and kist her reuerently.

Brandon (quoth she) I greater am,
Then would I were for thee:
But can as little master loue,
as them of low degree,

My father was a King, and so
A King my husband was,
My brother is the like, and he
will say I do transgresse.

But let him say what pleaseth him.
His liking ile forgoe,
And choose a loue to please myselfe,
though all the world sayes no.
If Plough-men make their marriages,
As best contents their mind,
Why should not princes of estate,
the like contentment find?

But tell me Brandon am I not
More forward then beseemes?
Yet blame me not for loue I loue,
where best my fancy deemes.
And long may liue quoth he to loue,
Nor longer liue may I,
Then when I loue your royall grace,
and then disgraced dye.

But if I do deserue your loue,
My mind desires dispatch:
For many are the eyes in Court,
that on your beauty watch.
But am not I sweet Lady now,

More saucy then behooues:
Yet for my heart forgiue my tongue,
that speakes for him that loues.

The Queene and this braue Gentleman,
Together both did wed,
And after sought the kings good will,
and of their wishes sped.
For Brandon soone was made a Duke,
and graced so in court:
Then who but he did flant it forth,
amongst the noblest sort.

And so from princely Brandons line,
and Maries did proceed:
The noble race of Suffolks house,
as after did succeed.
From whose high blood the Lady Iane,
Lord Guilford Dudleyes wife,
Came by descent, who with her Lord,
in London lost her life.

FINIS.

A Song of the life and death of King Richard the third,

who after many murthers by him committed vpon the Princes and Nobles of this Land, was slaine at the battell of Bosworth in Lester shire by Henry the seuenth King of England.

[_]

To the tune of, Who list to lead a Souldiers life,

In England once there raignd a King,
A Tirant firce and fell:
who for to gaine himselfe a Crowne,
gaue sure his soule to hell:
Third Richard was this Tirants name,
the worst of all the three:
That wrought such deeds of deadly dole
that worser could not be.

For his desires were still (by blood)
to be made Endglands King,
Which here to gaine that golden prize,
did many a wondrous thing:
He slaughtered vp our noble Peeres,
and chiefest in this Land:
With euery one that likely was,
his title to withstand.

Foure bloudy fields the Tyrant fought,
ere he could bring to passe,
what he made lawlesse claime vnto,
as his best liking was:
Sixt Henries Princely sonne he slew,
Before his fathers face:

And weeded from our English throne,
all his renowned race.

This King likewise in Londons Tower
he murthering made away
His brother Duke of Clarence life,
he also did betray:
with these right noble Princes twaine,
King Edwards children deare:
Because to Englands royall Crowne,
he thought them both too neere.

His owne deare wife also he slew,
Incestuously to wed:
His owne deare daughter which for feare,
away from him was fled.
And made such hauocke in this land,
Of all the Royall bloud,
That onely one was left vnslaine,
to haue his claimes withstood.

Earle Richmond he by heauen preseru'd,
To right his Countries wrong:
From France prepar'd full well to fight,
brought ore an Army strong.
To whom Lord Stanley nobly came,
with many an English Peere:
And ioynd their forces in one,

Earle Richmonds heart to cheare.

Which newes when as the Tyrant heard
How they were come on shore.
And how their forces day by day,
increased more and more.
He frets, he fumes, and ragingly,
A madding fury showes,
And thought it but in vaine to stay,
and so to battell goes.

Earle Richmond he in order braue,
His fearelesse armie laid,
In midst of whom these noble words,
their valiant leader said:
Now is the time and place sweet friends,
And we the souldiers be,
That must bring Englands peace againe,
or loose our liues must we.

Be valiant then, we fight for fame,
And for our countries good,
Against a Tyrant markt with shame,
for shedding Englands blood.
I am right heire of Lancaster,
Intituled to the Crowne,
Against this bloody Boare of Yorke,
then let vs win renowne.

Meane while had furious Richard set,
His army in array,
And with a gastly looke of feare,
he stoutly thus did say:
Shall Henry Richmond with his troopes,
Ore-match vs thus by might:
That comes with fearefull cowardice,
with vs this day to fight.

Shall Tudor from Plantaginet,
win thus the crowne away:
No Richards noble mind foretells,
that ours will be the day.
For Golden crownes we brauely fight,
And gold shall be their gaine:
In great abundance giuen to them,
that liues this day vnslaine.

These words being spoke the battles ioynd
Where blowes they brauely change:
And Richmond like a Lyon bold,
performed wonders strange:
And made such slaughters through the camp
Till he King Richard spies,
Who fighting long together there,
at last the Tyrant dyes.

Thus ended Englands wofull warre,

Usurping Richard dead:
King Henry faire Elizabeth,
in princely sort did wed.
For he was then made Englands King,
And she his crowned Queene:
So twixt these houses long at strife
a vnity was seene.

FINIS.

A Lamentable Song of Lady Elinor, daughter to the Duke of Buckingham,

who dyed for loue of one Captaine Ienkenson that had been a Prentise of London, who went to the siege of Ierusalem with Edward the first, then King of England.

[_]

To the tune of Rogero.

In England liued once a Duke,
That had a daughter braue:
To whom his Dukedome and estate.
he from all others gaue,
And dying left faire Elinor,
To be his onely heire:
Whose minde vpon a Captaines loue,
was setled deepe and deare.

This Captaine gallant Ienkenson.
By name then called so:
In prison lay for want of meanes,

and money he did owe.
But loue so deare assailed her,
That she must loue or dye:
And none but onely he aliue,
within her heart did lie.

So watching fit conuenient time,
She to the prison went:
And vnderneath his window then,
full many a teare she spent.
But entring in her eyes beheld
The image of her heart:
To whom her loue and liking soone
She friendly did impart.

And hauing made her purpose knowne,
My dearest friend (quoth she:)
I haue tane order for thy debts,
and here I set thee free.
with all my land, my loue and life,
And whatsoere is mine:
Take all and giue me liberty,
that here haue caused thine.

No sooner was he got at large,
And wealth relieu'd his woe:
But thence vnto Ierusalem,
did Englands Edward goe.

With whom this Captaine Ienkenson,
was nobly entertainde:
And so vnkindly went from her,
as one whom he disdaind.

Which when she heard, she tore her hayre,
And cast her on the ground,
And being ouerprest with griefe,
she fell into a sownd.
But afterward recouering sence,
This Letter she did write:
And sent it after him to read,
as heere I will recite.

FINIS.

The Letter.

[_]

To the same tune.

What faults of mine haue caused this,
My dearest friend tell me:
If I haue been the meanes thereof
then mournfull may I be,
My loue thou knowest deare Ienkenson
Full many a Lord hath sought,
Yet all haue mist saue thou alone,
and thou setst me at naught.

If thy desires be so to warres,
Then warre sweet loue with me:

For Cupids gallant soldiers still,
the sweetest warriers be:
With thee Ile liue, with thee Ile dye,
with thee Ile loose or gaine:
Returne sweet loue for in thy life,
Consists the liues of twaine.

Most wisely valiant are those men,
That backe their armed steeds,
In Courtly tilts in time of peace,
to breake their staues like reeds:
where not the dint of wounding swords,
But some deuice of loue,
They may their manhoods courteously,
before their Ladies prooue.

Where Ladies doffe their louers helmes,
And kisse where Beauers hid:
And parley vnder Canopies:
how well or ill they did:
Retire therefore retire sweetheart,
Where if thou wilt be armd,
Come fight vpon my bosome heere,
and so escape vnharmd.

But now me thinkes I see thy lookes,
Quite changed in thy face,
Me thinkes thy comlinesse and gate

hath lost their wonted grace:
Me thinkes I see thy manly limbes,
With Armors burthen lame.
And warlike weapons wounding deepe,
thy noble bosome maime.

I see thee faint with Summers heate,
And droope with winters cold:
I see thee not as late thou wast,
for young thou art growne olde:
And sorrow greatly for to know,
What now I would not see,
Thy dearest Lady thus in vaine,
to plead for loue to thee.

Thus when my griefes my sighes & teares,
Shall come vnto thy view,
Then wilt thou find by these my paines,
my loue is deare and true.
But these my words thou carst not for,
I see thou art vnkind:
Yet here to ease my dying heart,
in letters take my minde.

Captaine Ienkinsons Answere.

I haue perusd I know not what,
forsooth thy scroule of loue:
In hope by these thy flattering lines,

My setled minde to moue:
But I disdaine to talke of loue,
much lesse in loue to be:
For martiall drums and warlike steeds,
more better pleaseth me.

The Bees that sweetest hony beares.
haue likwise smarting stings:
And thou no whit dost want a bait,
that to repentance brings.
Content thee therefore Elinor,
thou temperst loue by art:
Although it come vnto mine eyes
it shall not touch my heart.

When sea shall flame, when Sun shal freeze
and mortall men shall die:
And riuers ouerflow their bankes,
in loue will then be I.
when these shall be and I not be,
then may I chance to loue:
And then the strangest change youle see,
that I a louer proue.

Let beauers hide, not kisses hurt,
my lippes for lippes vnfit:
Let wounded limbes not silken loues,

on top of honour sit.
I scorne a Souldier that should stoope
to please a louers mind:
That fights for Fame in fields of blood
should alter thus from kind.

Yet some there be whose maiden hayres
no sooner buds on chin,
But they to loue our Ladies faire
doe wantonly begin.
And wins them soone who would be won
and being won with speed:
They gained haue a crop of corne,
that scarce is worth the seed,

These loue in sport but leaue in spight,
as I haue found it true,
And being thus so easily won,
are changed for a new.
But kindnesse must haue kindest vse,
though kind be hardly one,
Their kindnesse then I must refuse,
because I will haue none.

And strange it were (a Souldier) I
should loue this English maid.
The wonders seuen should then be eight
could loue me so perswade:
But loue er hate, fare ill or well,

I thus conclude my minde:
My welcome when I come to thee,
Shall surely proue vnkinde.

This Answer brought to Elinor,
such inward sorrow bred:
That she in reading of these lines
poore Lady fell downe dead.
Where her deare loue and gentle life,
Had both together end:
And as we may suppose in death,
her soule did liue his friend,

For she by Will did him bequeath,
Her substance and estate:
Thus loue being grounded in the heart,
can neuer turne to hate.
Her wealth, her meanes, and all she had,
This Captaine did possesse:
Which brought vnto his grieued soule,
much woe and wretchednesse.

For comming from Ierusalem,
And entring on the same,
To view what wealth the Lady left,
he to her Chamber came:
where as the Ladies picture hung,
With which he fell in loue.

And so the shaddow wrought the thing,
the substance could not moue.

Her courtesie and his despight,
He calleth then to minde:
And of her beauty being dead
a sodaine change did finde:
Remembring then his low degree,
And reckoning her desert:
He could not thinke but that he bore
in loue too proud a heart.

Now loue (qd. he) though breathlesse she,
Doth such a flame contriue:
The which shall soone consume me quite,
for I doe burne aliue.
Alas then did he pause in teares,
Oh take it from mine eye,
This picture hath procurde my death,
and for the same must dye.

For she that was the owner liude
And dyed a louer true:
whose Ghost at parting could not choose,
but say sweet loue adue.
Adue indeed kind gentle Dame,
For lacke of loue that dyed:
And left off liuing in that eye,

her of my loue denied.

Thus by her picture prickt with loue
He felt continuall woe
And bearing it still in his hand
he to her graue did goe.
Where sitting on the same he said,
He loues the shadow now:
Whose heart vnto the substance late,
would rather breake then bow.

Oh gods, I grant for this contempt
I must indure your doome:
And sacrifice mine owne false heart
vpon my true loues tombe.
Whose onely beauty worthy was,
To match without a dower:
Yet she in vaine did beg my loue,
full many a weary houre.

And hauing spoke these mournefull words,
A Tragedy to make:
His dagger from his side in hast,
he desperately did take:
And to his heart he strooke the same,
With all his manly force:
And so vpon his true loues graue,
was made a liuelesse coarse.

Finis.

A Courtly new Song of the Princely wooing of the faire Maide of London by K. Edward.

[_]

To the tune of, Bonny sweet Robin.

Faire Angell of England, thy beauty so bright,
Is all my hearts treasure, my ioy and delight:
Then grant me, sweet Lady, thy true loue to be,
That I may say welcome good fortune to me.

The Turtle so pure and chaste in her loue,
By gentle perswasions her fancy will moue:
Then be not intreated, sweet Lady, in vaine
For nature requireth what I would obtaine.

What Phenix so famous that liueth alone,
Is vowed to chastity being but one?
But be not, my Darling so chaste in desire,
Lest thou like the Phenix doe penance in fire.

But (alas, gallant Lady) I pitty thy state,
In being resolued to liue without mate:
For if of our Courting the pleasures you knew
You would haue a liking the same to ensue.

Long time haue I sued the same to obtaine,
Yet am I requited with scornefull disdaine:

But if you will grant your good fauour to me,
You shall be aduanced to Princely degree.

Promotions and honours may often intice
The chastest that liueth, though neuer so nice:
what woman so worthy, but will be content,
To liue in the Pallace where Princes frequent?

Two brides young & Princely to Church I haue led,
Two Ladies most louely haue decked my bed,
Yet hath thy loue taken more root in my heart,
Then all their contentments whereof I had part,

Your gentle hearts cannot mens teares much abide,
And women least angry when most they doe chide:
Then yeeld to me kindly, and say that at length,
Men doe want mercy, and poore women strength.

I grant that faire Ladies may poore men resist,
But Princes will conquer and loue whom they list:
A King may command her to sleepe by his side,
whose features deserueth to be a Kings Bride.

In granting your loue you shall purchase renowne,
Your head shall be deckt with Englands fair Crowne
Thy garmēts most gallant with gold shalbe wrought
If true loue for treasure of thee may be bought.

Great Ladies of honour shall tend on thy traine
Most richly attyred with Scarlet in graine:
My chamber most princely thy person shall keepe,
Where virgins with musicke shall rock thee asleepe.

If any more pleasures thy heart can inuent
Command them sweet Lady thy mind to content:
For Kings gallant courts, where Princes do dwell,
Afford such sweet pastimes as Ladies loue well.

Then be not resolued to die a true maide,
But print in thy bosome the words I haue said:
And grant a King fauour thy true loue to be,
That I may say welcome sweet virgin to me.

FINIS.

The faire maide of Londons answer to King Edwards wanton Loue.

[_]

To the same tune.

Oh wanton King Edward, tis labour in vaine,
To follow the pleasure thou canst not attaine:
Which getting thou loosest, and hauing dost wast it,
The which if thou purchase, is spoild if thou hast it.

But if thou obtainst it, thou nothing hast won
And I loosing nothing, yet quite am vndone:
But if of that Iewell a King do deceiue me

No King can restore, though a Kingdome he giue me.

My colour is changed since you saw me last,
My fauour is vanisht, my beauty is past:
The Rosie red blushes that sate on my cheekes,
To palenesse are turned, which all men mislikes.

I passe not what Princes for loue do protest,
The name of a Uirgin contenteth me best:
I haue not deserued to sleepe by thy side
Nor to be accounted for King Edwards Bride.

The name of a Princes I neuer did craue,
No such type of honour thy handmaide will haue:
My brest shall not harbour so lofty a thought,
Nor be with rich proffers to wantonnesse brought.

If wild wanton Rosamond one of our sort,
Had neuer frequented King Henries braue Court,
Such heapes of deepe sorrow she neuer had seen,
Nor tasted the rage of so iealous a Queene.

All men haue their freedome to shew their intent,
They win not a woman, except she consent:
Who then can impute vnto them any fault,
Who still go vpright, vntill women do hault?

Tis counted a kindnesse in men for to trye,

And vertue in women the same to deny:
For women vnconstant can neuer be prou'd,
Untill by their betters therein they be mou'd.

If women and modesty once do but seuer,
Then farewell good name and credite for euer:
And Royall King Edward let me be exilde,
Ere any man know that my body's defilde.

No, no, my old fathers reuerend teares
Too deepe an impression within my soule beares:
Nor shall his bright honour, that blot by me haue,
To bring his gray haires with griefe to his graue.

The heauens forbid that when I shall dye,
That any such sinne vpon my soule lie:
If I haue thus kept me from doing this sinne,
My heart shall not yeeld with a Prince to begin.

Come rather with pitty to weepe on my tombe,
Then for my birth curse my deare mothers wombe:
That broght forth a blossome which stained the tree,
with wanton desires to shame her and me.

Leaue me (most noble King) tempt not in vaine,
My milke-white affections with lewdnesse to staine,
Though England will giue me no comfort at all,
Yet England will giue me a sad buriall.

FINIS.

The most cruell murther of Edward the fift, and his brother Duke of Yorke, in the Towre; by their Vncle Richard Duke of Gloster.

[_]

To the tune of Fortune my foe.

When God had tane away true wisdomes King,
Edward the fourth whose fame shal alwayes ring
Which raigned had full two and twenty yeares,
And ruled well amongst his noble Peeres.

when as he dyed two sonnes he left behinde,
The Prince of Wales, & Duke of Yorke most kind:
The Prince the eldest, but eleuen yeares old,
The Duke more yong as Chronicles haue told.

The dead Kings brother, Duke of Glocester,
Was chosen for the Prince his Protecter:
Who straightway plotted how to get the Crowne,
And pull his brother Edwards children downe.

Edward the fift, the Prince was cald by name
who by succession did that title gaine.
A prudent Prince whose wisedome did excell,
which made his vncles heart with hatred swell.

Then did the Duke vse all the meanes he might,
By dambd deuises for to worke their spight:
At length the diuell put it in his head,

How all his plots should be accomplished.

With sugred words which had a poysond sting,
He did intice the Duke and the yong King:
For safeties sake to lodge them in the Towre,
A strong defence and Londons chiefest Flower.

His faire spoke speeches and bewitching charme
who told them 'twould secure them from all harme:
Thus by faire words yet cruell treachery,
Lo won their hearts within the Tower to lye.

Great entertainment these Princes gaue,
And causde the Tower to be furnisht braue:
with sumptuous cheare he feasted them that day,
Thus subtile Wolues with harmeles lambs do play.

with musicke sweet he filde their princely eares,
And to their face a smiling countenance beares:
But his foule heart with mischiefe was possest,
And treacherous thoughts were alwaies in his brest.

when as bright Phœbus had possest the west,
And that the time was come for all to rest:
The Duke of Gloster the two Princes led,
Into a sumptuous chamber to their bed.

When these sweet children thus were laid in bed,

And to the Lord their hearty prayers had said:
Sweet slumbring sleepe then closing vp their eyes,
Each folded in each others arme then lies.

The bloody vncle to these children sweet,
Unto a Knight to breake his mind thought meet:
One sir Iames Tirrill, which did thinke it best,
For to agree to his bloody request.

Sir Iames he said my resolutions this.
And for to do the same you must not misse:
This night so that the King be murthered,
And the yong Duke as they lie in their bed.

So when these branches I haue pulled downe,
Theres none yt which can keep me from the Crowne:
My brother Duke of Clarence he was found,
Ith Tower within a But of Malmesey drownd.

It was my plot that he should drowned be,
Because that none should claime the Crowne but me,
And when these children thou hast murdered,
Ile weare the Royall Crowne vpon my head.

And know thou Tirrill when that I am King,
Ile raise thy state and honours to thee bring:
Then be resolu'd, tut be not thou afraid,
My Lord Ile do't, this bloody Tirrill said.

He got two villaines for to act this price,
Hell-hearted murtherers and did them disguise
The one Miles Forrest which there keeper was
The other Dighton keeper of his horse.

At midnight then when all things they were husht,
These bloody slaues into the chamber crusht:
And to the bed full softly did they creepe,
Where these sweet babes did lie full fast asleepe.

And presently did wrap them in the cloathes,
And stopt their harmelesse breath with the pillowes:
Yet did they striue and struggle what they might,
Untill the slaues had stifeled both them quite.

When as the murderers saw that they were dead,
They tooke their bodies forth the cursed bed,
And then they buryed these same little ones
At the staire foot vnder a heape of stones.

But marke how God did scourge them for this deede
As in the Chronicles you there may reade
Blood deserueth blood, for so the Lord hath said,
So at the length their blood was truely paid.

For when their Uncle he had raign'd two yeares:
He fell at variance then amongst his Peeres:
In Lestershire at Bosworth he was slaine,

By Richmonds Earle as he did rightly gaine.

In pieces was he hewed by his foes,
And kickt and spurned with their feet and toes:
They stript him then, and dragd him vp and downe,
And on stout Richmonds head they put the Crowne.

The bloody murtherer (Sir Iames Tirrill,
For treason lost his head on Towre-hill:
And to Miles Forrest befell no worse a Lot,
For he in pieces aliue away did rot.

And Iohn Dighton, the other bloody fiend,
No man can tell how he came to his end:
Thus God did pay these murtherers their hire,
And hell-bred Pluto plagued them with fire.

A excellent Song, entituled, A penny-worth of Wit.

[_]

To the tune of Labandelashot.

In ancient yeares as bookes expresse,
Of old done deeds both more and lesse:
A Merchant yong of tender yeares
As by the sequell well appeares:
a worthy woman tooke to wife
right well brought vp, and void of strife,
Could he with her haue been content,
Great blessings might the Lord haue sent:

But he an harlot loued more
Wherewith his friends were vexed sore.

In tract of time his chance it was,
In Merchants wise the seas to passe:
In lands right strange was his intent,
With merchandize he forward went,
and at his parting thought it meet,
his concubine and queene to greet:
And of her loue did sweetly pray,
And fauour for to part away:
With sighing semblance then quoth she,
My deare will you depart from me.

Then to his wedded wife he went,
Saying dame what thing most excellent,
You are desirous for to haue,
Of any thing that heart can craue:
giue me your money to bestow,
then from her purse she forth did draw,
A faire coinde penny verily,
Wherewith she wild him Wit to buy,
Of other toyes small mind had she,
But Iesu blesse your long iourney.

This said, she wept; then parted he,
Thinking great scorne of her penny,
But past the Seas and tooke the shore,

And sped right well, what would we more,
in many wares he did abound,
of merchandize both good and sound,
His ships well fraught he homward sent
So well had he his substance spent:
And for his concubine alacke,
He had bestowed many a knacke.

Then last his wife remembred he,
And with his mates of merry glee,
Unto a Tauerne forth they go:
In ieasting sort the truth is so
he said he should be much vnkind,
her merchandise to leaue behind.
But said the substance was so small,
That it would buy nothing at all:
And thereat made a ieasting sport,
To all that thither did resort.

Not farre from thence on a seat right nigh,
There was an old man sitting by,
who said good sir I can you shew,
How you that penny shall bestow,
for if you haue a wedded wife,
I wish you haue her during life.
A wife I haue indeed quoth he,
And a Lemman faire and bright of blee,
whom I do trust, and euer shall,
So constant is her loue withall.

The old man answered at last,
So soone as you the Seas haue past,
Then put of all your faire array,
And to your Lemmon take your way,
saying that thou a Merchant great,
didst robbe, and wickedly entreat,
And for his goods thou hast him slaine,
And art persude therefore a maine:
Now which of both doe pitty show,
With her abide in weale and woe.

With that the penny forth he drew,
which to the old man straight he threw,
Saying he would go trie the same
So in short space he ouer came,
in cloathes rent too vile to see,
vnto his Lemmans house went he.
And softly knocked at her doore,
But when she saw he was so poore,
In frowning sort she turnd her backe,
Perceiuing him to be in lacke.

He said sweet Lemmon for Christ his sake,
Upon me here some pitty take,
Upon the Seas my goods I lost,
My selfe in danger greatly toste,
a Merchant murdered is and slaine,
by meanes of me and of my traine:

Wherefore sweet heart now pitty me,
For need alacke, I come to thee,
But she with words right fierce and fell,
Said villaine, wretch adieu, farewell.

Shall I giue succour to thy deed?
The Diuell grant thee ill to speed,
Anoyde thou rascall hence apace,
Thy fact deserues to haue no grace,
go home vnto that Gib thy wife,
let her giue succour to thy life,
For by the faith to God I owe,
I meane the Officer shall know,
Except from hence in hast thou packe:
He turnd his face and cryde alacke.

Then in that poore and simple array,
Unto his wife he tooke his way,
And told like tale as he before,
Had vttered to his wicked whoore,
and said sweet wife without your aide
I feare I shall be soone betraid.
My spowse quoth she, take you no griefe,
A hundred pounds for your reliefe,
I yet haue here for you in store
When that is gone we will get more.

And for your pardone sir quoth she,

I will make meanes as you shall see,
And all your creditors will pray,
To take with you a longer day,
good friends I haue, take you no thought,
this thing to passe shall well be brought.
And as much goods as here before,
They shall you giue or rather more,
with that he did his wife embrace,
And told her true in euery case.

Together then that night they lay,
And in the morning passing gay,
This merchant did himselfe attire,
In costly suits for his desire:
with seruants two for his intent,
vnto his Lemmans house he went,
As by the way she did him spy,
She ran and met him by and by,
And said my loue for very shame,
what moued you to worke this game.

why came you basely to my doore?
why did you faigne your selfe so poore?
Sith you do know you haue my loue,
And all my goods for your behooue?
She then with him did kisse and dally,
as she was wont with ancient folly,
My Lemmon deare he said againe,

To me it hath been told right plaine,
You haue another friend in store,
whom you doe loue at heart right sore.

The Iewels which I gaue to you,
He hath in hold I tell you true:
Then vp she rose all in a braide,
And all those things before him laide:
he tooke them vp and cald his men,
and said go get you home agen,
With this apparell and this geare,
She said what will you robbe me here,
He tooke all things to hand that came,
And bare all home vnto his Dame.

And said behold my louing feere,
See here these Iewels and this geere,
Looke well thereon and do not spare,
Here is a penny worth of ware:
he told her likewise how and when,
he had this counsell of a man:
She saw those iewels did abound,
In value worth a hundreth pound,
They thanked God both, for his grace,
And after liu'd in happy case.

FINIS.

Titus Andronicus complaint.

[_]

To the tune of Fortuue.

You noble minds and famous martiall wights,
That in defence of natiue countrey fights:
Giue eare to me that ten yeares fought for Rome,
Yet reapt disgrace when I returned home.

In Rome I liu'd in fame full threescore yeares.
By name beloued deare of all his Peeres:
Full fiue and twenty valiant sonnes I had,
Whose forward vertues made their father glad.

For when Romes foes their warlike forces felt,
Against them still my sonnes and I were sent:
Against the Gothes full ten yeares weary warre,
We spent, receiuing many a bloody scarre:

Iust two and twenty of my sonnes were slaine
Before we did returne to Rome againe:
Of fiue and twenty sonnes I brought but three
Aliue, the stately Towres of Rome to see.

when warres were done I conquest home did bring,
And did present my prisoners to the King
The Queene of Goth her sonnes and eke a Moore,
which did much murder like was nere before.

The Emperour did make this Queene his wife
Which bred in Rome debate and deadly strife:
The Moore with her two sonnes did grow so proude,
That none like them in Rome was then alowd.

The Moore so pleasd the new-made Empresse eye
That she consented with him secretly:
For to abuse her husbands marriage bed,
And so in time a blacke a moore she bred.

Then she whose thoughts to murder were incinde,
Consented with the Moore with bloody minde:
Against my selfe, my kin and all my friends
In cruell sort to bring them to their ends.

So when in age I thought to liue in peace,
Both wo and griefe began then to increase:
Amongst my sonnes I had one daughter bright,
which ioyde and pleased best my ages sight.

My deare Lauina was betroth'd as than
To Cæsars sonne a yong and noble man:
who in a hunting by the Emperours wife,
And her two sonnes bereaued were of life,

He being slaine was cast in cruell wise
Into a dismall den from light of skies:
The cruell Moore did come that way as then,

With my two sonnes who fell into that den.

The Moore then fectht the Emperour with speed,
For to accuse them of that murtherous deed:
And then my sonnes within the den were found
In wrongfull prison they were cast and bound.

But now behold what wounded most my minde,
The Emperours two sonnes of Tygers kinde:
My daughter rauished without remorse,
And tooke away her honour quite perforce.

when they had tasted of so sweet a flower,
Fearing their sweet should shortly turne to sowre,
They cut her tongue, whereby she could not tell,
How that dishonour vnto her befell.

Then both her hands they falsely cut of quite,
Where by their wickednesse she could not write,
Nor with her needle on her sampler sow,
The bloody workers of her direfull woe.

My brother Marcus found her in a wood,
Staining the grassie ground with purple blood:
That trickled from her stumps and handlesse armes,
No tongue at all she had to tell her harmes.

But when I saw her in that woefull case,

With teares of blood I wet my aged face:
For my Lauinia I lamented more
Then for my two and twenty sonnes before.

when as I saw she could not write nor speake,
With griefe my aged heart began to breake,
we spread a heape of sand vpon the ground,
Whereby those bloody tyrants out we found.

For with a staffe without the helpe of hand,
She writ these words vpon that plot of sand:
The lustfull sonnes of the proud Empresse,
Are doers of this hatefull wickednesse.

I tare the milke-white haires from off my head
I curst the houre wherein I first was bred:
I wisht my hand that fought for countries fame,
In cradles rockt had first been stroken lame.

The Moore delighting still in villany,
Did say to set my sonnes from prison free:
I should vnto the King my right hand giue,
And then my two imprisoned sonnes should liue.

The Moore I caused to strike it off with speede,
Whereat I greeued not to see it bleed,
But for my sonnes would willingly impart,
And for their ransome send my bleeding heart.

But as my life did linger thus in paine
They sent to me my bloodlesse hand againe:
And therewithall the heads of my two sonnes,
which fild my dying heart with fresher moanes.

Then past reliefe I vp and downe did go,
And with my teares writ in the dust my wo:
I shot my arrowes towards heauen high
And for reuenge to hell did sometimes cry.

The Empresse then thinking I was mad
Like Furies she and both her sonnes were clad:
She named reuenge, and rape and murder they,
To vndermine and know what I would say.

I fed their foolish vaines a certaine space,
Untill my friends and I did finde a place
where both her sonnes vnto a post were bound,
Where iust reuenge in cruell sort was found.

I cut their throats, my daughter helde the pan,
Betwixt her stumps wherein their blood then ran,
And then I ground their bones to powder small
And made a paste for pies straight therewithall.

Then with their flesh I made two mighty pies,
And at a banquet serude in stately wise,
Before the Empresse set this loathsome meat,

So of her sonnes owne flesh she well did eate,

My selfe bereaude my daughter then of life,
The Empresse then I slew with bloody knife:
I stabde the Emperour immediately,
And then my selfe, euen so did Titus dye.

Then this reuenge against the Moore was found,
Aliue they set him halfe into the ground,
whereas he stood vntill such time he sterude,
And so God send all murtherers may be serude.

The end of the first Part.

2. The Second Part of the Golden Garland.

The Shepheards resolution.

[_]

To the tune of the yong mans opinion.

Shall I wasting in despaire,
Dye because a womans faire:
Shall my cheeks looke pale with care,
Cause anothers Rosie are:
Be she fairer then the Day,
Or the flowry Meads in May:
Yet if she thinke not well of me,
What care I how faire she be.

Shall a womans goodnesse mooue,
Me to perish for her loue?
Or her worthy merits knowne,
Make me quite forget mine owne?
Be she with that goodnesse blest,
As may merit name of best:
Yet if she be not such to me,
What care I how faire she be,

Be she good or kinde or faire,
I will neuer more despaire:
If she loue me, this beleeue,
I will die ere she shall grieue:
If she fright me when I woe,
I will scorne and let her go:
Yet if she be not fit for me,
What care I for whom she be.

Shall a woman truely wise,
Draw amazement from mine eyes,
wondring that from such a Creature,
Wisedome thus should come by nature:
And comprehend the best of things,
That from the well of wise dome springs:
Yet if she be not such to me,
What care I how wise she be.

Shall I cast affection downe,
Because I see a woman browne?
Shall beauties changeling kill desire,
Or loathing quench out fancies fire?
Be she browne or blacke or foule,
or fronted like a broad eyde Owle:
Yet if she be not such to me,
What care I how foule she be.

Shall my heart with sorrow burst,

Because I see a woman curst:
Or shall I grieue when I behold,
The picture of a pure scolde.
Be her tongue so truely euill,
That well might tire the very Deuill.
Yet if she be not such to me,
What care I how curst she be.

Shall a Womans tempting smile,
Accuse her for a Crocadile:
Or shall I trust a Wantons eyes,
That most dissembles when she cryes,
Be women made of euill wholly,
To draw vs men to wanton folly.
Yet if they be not such to me,
What care I how ill they be.

Shall womens all-affecting features,
Make me iudge them Angell creatures:
Shall I thinke them come from heauen,
To be an earthly blessing giuen,
Be good or bad or what you please,
The lesse we need them most at ease:
Be what they will if not for me,
I care not then what women be.

FINIS.

The Shepheards Pipe.

Sleep wayward thoughts, & rest you with my loue,
Let not my loue be with my loue diseasde,
Touch not proude hands, lest you her anger mooue
But pine you with my longings long displeasde,
thus while she sleepes I sorrow for her sake,
so sleepes my loue, and yet my loue doth wake.

But O the fate of these my restlesse feares,
The hidden anguish of my flesh desires:
The glories and the beauties that appeares,
Betweene her browes, neere Cupids closed fires,
thus while she sleepes moues sighing for thy sake,
so sleepes my loue and yet my loue doth wake.

My loue doth rage and yet my loue doth rest,
Feare in my loue and yet my loue secure,
Peace in my loue and yet my loue opprest,
Impatient yet of perfect temperature.
Sleepe dainty loue, while I sigh for thy sake,
so sleepes my loue and yet my loue doth wake.

FINIS.

Coridons farewell to Phillis.

Farewell deare loue since thou wilt needs begon,
Mine eyes do shew my life is almost done,

nay I will neuer die, so long as I can spye,
there be many moe, though that she do go,
There be many moe I feare not,
why then let her go I care not.

Farewell, farewell, since this I find is true,
I will not spend more time in wooing you:
but I will seek elsewhere, if I may find loue there,
shall I bid her goe? what and if I doe?
Shall I bid her go and spare not,
O no no, no, no, no, I dare not.

Ten thousand times farewell, yet stay a while,
Sweet kisse me once sweet kisses time beguile:
I haue no power to moue how now, am I in loue?
wilt thou needes be gone? go then, all is one:
wilt thou needes be gone? Oh high thee,
Nay stay, and do no more deny me.

Once more adieu, I see loath to depart,
Bids oft adue to her that holds my heart?
but seeing I must loose thy loue which I did choose,
go thy way for me, since that way not be;
Go thy wayes for me, but whether?
Go, oh but where I may come thither.

what shall I do, my loue is now departed,
She is as faire as she is cruell hearted:
we would not be intreated wt prayers oft repeated,
If she come no more, shall I dye therefore,
If she come no more, what care I,
Faith let her go or come or tarry.

FINIS.

The Weauers Shuttle

or a Loue-Song made by a Prentise of London, that loued a yong Gentlewoman in the countrey, doubting of her constancy.

[_]

To the tune of, Riding to Rumford.

Oh how I sigh and sob
Oh how I languish:
Oh how my heart doth throb
with griefe and anguish,
My song I cannot tune,
For loue I do consume
I cannot worke in Loome
hang vp my shuttle.

My treadles all stand still
I cannot vse them:
My shuttle and my quill,
I will refuse them.
My batten and my slay,
And all my Leses play
Hey hoe, till holiday.
hang vp my shuttle.

Yet though they do stand still,
I must be doing:
And to my loue in good will,

I must a wooing,
I cannot merry be,
But in her company,
Sweet heart I come to thee,
and leaue my shuttle.

And when I visit thee,
And haue my wishes,
And entertained be,
with dainty kisses.
O how my heart doth grieue,
So soone my loue to leaue,
And go againe to weaue,
and vse my shuttle.

Yet shuttle flye apace,
Till thou art weary:
For I must weaue my lace,
sing and be merry.
Till the next holiday,
Then thou and I will play
Hay ho cast care away,
hang vp my shuttle.

If thou vnconstant proue,
Ile not respect thee:
But choose another loue,
and quite reiect thee.

A weauer thou shalt know,
Scornes to be serued so,
Though my true heart I show,
vsing my shuttle.

Gentlemen weauers all,
That heares my ditty,
Pardon my verses small,
rude and vnwitty.
If they do you offend,
Next I make I will mend,
And so my Song doth end,
reach me my shuttle.

FINIS.

Of the inconueniences by Marriage.

[_]

To the tune of When Troy towne.

Fond wanton youth makes loue a god,
Which after proueth ages rod:
Their youth, their time, their wit and art,
They spend in seeking of their smart:
And which of follies is the chiefe,
They woo their wo, they wed their griefe.

All find it so that wedded are,

Loues sweet they find enfold sowre care.
His pleasures pleasingst in the eye,
Which tasted once with loathing die:
they find of follies tis the chiefe,
their wo to woo to wed their griefe,

If for their owne content they chose,
Forthwith their kindreds loue they loose,
And if their kindred they content,
For euer after they repent:
O tis of all our bodies chiefe
Our wo to woo to wed our griefe.

In bed what strifes are bred by day
Our puling wiues do open lay:
None friends, none foes we must esteeme,
But whom they so vouchsafe to deeme:
O tis of all our follies chiefe
Our wo to woo, to wed our griefe.

Their smile we want if ought they want,
And either we their wils must grant:
Or die they will or are with child
Their laughing must not be beguild.
O tis of all our follies chiefe
Our wo to woo, to wed our griefe.

Foule wiues are iealous faire wiues fall

Marriage to either binds vs thrall
Wherefore being bound we must obey,
And forced be perforce to say:
Of all our follies tis the chiefe,
Our wo to woo, to wed our griefe,

FINIS.

The Shepheards Ioy.

[_]

To the tune of Barra Faustus Dreame.

Come sweet Loue, let sorrow cease,
Banish frownes leaue of discention:
Loue warres make the sweetest peace
hearts vniting by contention.
Sun-shine followes after raine
Sorrowes ceasing: this is pleasing
All proues faire againe
after sorrow soone comes ioy
Try me, proue me, trust me, loue me
This will cure annoy.

winter hides his frosty face
Blushing now to be more veiwed:
Spring return'd with pleasant grace,
Floraes treasures are renued:
Lambes reioyce to see the Spring,
Skipping, leaping, sporting, playing

Birds for ioy do sing,
so let the Spring of ioy renue,
Laughing, colling, kissing, playing,
And giue loue his due

See those bright sunnes of thine eyes,
Clouded now with black disdaining,
Shall such stormy tempests rise,
to set loues faire dayes a rayning?
All are glad the skies being cleare,
Highly ioying, sporting, toying,
With their louely cheare:
but as sad to see a shower,
Sadly drooping, lowring, powting,
Turning sweet to sower.

Then sweet loue dispearse this cloude,
That obscures this scornefull coying:
When all creatures sings aloude,
filling hearts with ouer ioying.
As euery bird do choose her make,
Gently billing, she is willing
Her true loue to take:
with such words let vs contend,
woing, doing, wedding, bedding,
And so our strife shall end.

FINIS.

A pleasant Song Intituled You pretty wantons warble.

You pretty birds that sit and sing
amidst the shady vallies,
And see how sweetly Phillis walkes
within her garden allyes.
Go pretty birds vnto her bowre
sing pretty birds she may not lowre:
For feare my fairest Phillis frowne
you pretty wantons warble.

Go tell her through your chirping bils,
as you by me are bidden:
To her is only knowne my loue,
which from the world is hidden.
Go pretty birds and tell her so
see that your notes fall not too low,
For feare &c.

Go tune your voyces harmony
and sing I am her Louer:
Straine low and hie that euery note
with sweet content may moue her.
Tell her it is her louer true,
that sendeth loue by you and you,
Aye me, me thinkes I see her frowne,
you pretty wantons warble.

Fly, fly, make haste me thinks shees falne
into a pleasant slumber:
Sing round about her Rosie bower
that waking she may wonder.
And he that hath the sweetest voyce
tell her Ile neuer change my choyce.
Aye me &c

Fly pretty birds, and in your bils
beare me a louing letter,
Unto my fairest Phillis, and
with your sweet musick greet her,
Go pretty birds vnto her, hye,
haste pretty birds vnto her, flye:
Aye me &c.

And if you finde her sadly set
about her sweetly chaunt it:
Untill she smiling raise her head
nere cease vntill she grant it.
Go pretty birds and tell her I,
as you haue done, will to her flye.
Aye me &c.

Henceforth refuse, you pretty birds
to chirpe in vncouth places:
And draw you all together there,
where louely Phillis traces.

There pretty birds about her sing
there pretty birds make ecchoes ring:
For feare my fairest Phillis frowne,
you pretty wantons warble.

FINIS.

The Louers lamentation for the death of faire Phillis.

How can I chuse but sigh and mone
and euermore sit weeping?
My fairest Phillis she is gone
death hath her in his keeping.
O death how durst thou be so bold
to lay my Phillis in the mold?
Aye me, aye me, aye woe is me
cease pretty birds to warble.

Cease now your chirping melody
for Spring times past and gone,
And Winters chilling stormes deny
your harmony be showne,
Keepe you your nests, Ile keepe my den,
where thousand frightfull obiects been,
Aye me &c.

Her shadow hanging in my sight
addes to my griefe and anguish:
The substance wanting in the ight,

for which I lye and languish.
The pretty toyes she vsde to weare,
lie scattered now, some here, some there,
Aye me, aye me &c.

So that the place when she suruiude,
which was a place of pleasure,
Is vncouth made by losse of this
inestimable treasure:
That beauty that made her excell,
made that seem heauen that now seemes hell?
Aye me, aye me &c.

Wert that the force of men detainde,
my fairest Phillis from me.
Or Iron barres, or bolts, or locks,
she might not looke vpon me.
Then might I hope to re-obtaine
her presence, but all hope is vaine,
Aye me, aye me &c.

Oh why should mens desires like hounds,
pursue this vaine worlds pleasure?
And count them happy in nought else,
but in this vaine worlds treasure,
Seeing to day we mount in Mirth,
and fall to morrow in the earth:
Aye me, aye me &c.

Finis.

The Maidens complaint.

[_]

To the tune, I can nor will no longer lie alone.

Can any tell me what I aile,
I am growne so sick, so weak, so pale:
I to that plight alas am growne
that I can nor will no longer lie alone.

Was euer maidens case like mine,
thus of fifteen yeres of age to pine:
Were I the iudge I am sure there is none,
that should any longer lie alone.

when it is day I wish for night,
and when it is darke for light againe:
Thus all the night long to tosse & to grone,
for that I can no longer lie alone.

If dreames be true then iudge I can,
all that I want is but a man:
Only for one I make this moane,
for that I can no longer lie alone.

To woe him first ashamde am I,
but if he aske, I will not deny:
Such is my case I must haue one
for that I can no longer lie alone.

Yet shall this be my prayer still,
for one that may giue me my fill
For I care not how soone it be knowne,
that I can nor will no longer lie alone.

For all my wishings Ile haue none,
but him I loue and I loue but one:
And if he loue not me then will I haue none
but euer till I dye Ile lie alone.

Finis.

The inconstancy of the World.

What if a day, a moneth, or a yeere,
Crown thy desires with a thousand wisht contentings
Cannot the chance of an night or an houre
Crosse thy delights with as many sad tormentings:
Fortune in their fairest birth,
Are but blossomes dying.
wanton pleasures doating mirth,
Are but shadowes flying:
All our ioyes are but toyes
Idle thoughts deceiuing:
None hath power of an houre
In our liues bereauing.

what if a smile, or a beck, or a looke
Feed my fond thoughts with as many sweet conceiuing
May not that smile, or that beck, or that look,

Tell thee as well they are but vaine deceiuing?
Why should beauty be so proude
In things of no surmounting
All her wealth is but a shroude
Of a rich accounting:
Then in this repose no blisse
which is vaine and idle:
Beauties flowers haue their houres,
Time doth hold the bridle.

what if the world with alures of his wealth
Raise thy degree to a place of high aduancing
May not the world by a check of that wealth
Put thee again to as low despised chancing
Whilst the Sun of wealth doth shine
Thou shalt haue friends plenty:
But come want they then repent,
Not one abides of twenty:
Wealth and friends holds and ends,
As your fortunes rise and fall:
Up and downe rise and frowne,
Certaine is no state at all.

What if a griefe, or a straine, or a fit,
Pinch thee with pain, or the feeling pangs of sicknes,
Doth not that gripe, or that straine, or that fit.
Shew thee the forme of thy own true perfect likenes
Health is but a glimpse of ioy,

Subiect to all changes
Mirth is but a silly toy,
which mishap estranges.
Tell me then silly man
why art thou so weake of wit:
As to be in ieopardy
when thou maist in quiet sit.

Then if all this haue declard thine amisse
Take it from me as a gentle friendly warning:
If thou refuse and good counsell abuse,
Thou maist hereafter dearely buy thy learning.
All is hazard that we haue
There is nothing biding,
Daies of pleasure are like streames,
Through the meddowes gliding,
Wealth or wo, time doth go
There is no returning
Secret fates guide our states
Both in mirth and mourning.

FINIS.

Loues Constancy.

Since first I saw thy face I resolude,
to honour and renowne yee:
If now I be disdaind I wish,
my heart had neuer knowne ye.

what I that loude and you that likt,
shall we begin to wrangle:
No, no, no, no, my heart is fixt,
and cannot now intangle.

If I admirde or prais d you too much,
that fault you may forgiue me:
Or if my hand had strayed to touch,
then iustly might you leaue me.

I askt you leaue, you bad me loue,
ist now a time to chide me:
No, no, no, no, ile loue you still,
what fortune ere betide me.

The Sun whose beames most glorious are,
reiecteth no beholder:
And your sweet beauty past compare,
made my poore eyes the bolder.

Where beauty moues, and wit delights,
and signes of kindnes binds me:
There O there where ere I go,
Ile leaue my heart behinde me.

FINIS.

Coridons dolefull knell.

[_]

To the tune of Ding dong.

My Phillida a due Loue
And euermore farewell,
I must go seeke a new Loue
Yet I will ring her knell:

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,
My Phillida is dead,
Ile sticke a branch of Willowes.
At my faire Phillis head.

Our bridall bed was made
But my faire Phillida
In steed of silken shade,
She now lies wrapt in clay.

Ding dong, &c.

Her corps shall be attended,
with nimphes in rich array
Till obsequies be ended.
And my loue wrapt in clay,

Ding dong, &c.

Her hearse it shall be carryed,
With them that doe excell:

And when that she is buried
Thus will I ring her knell.

Ding dong, &c.

Ile decke her tombe with flowers
The rarest that ere was seene
And with my teares as shewers
Ile keepe them fresh and greene.

Ding dong, &c.

In stead of fairest colours
Set forth by curious art,
Her picture shall be painted,
In my distressed heart.

Ding dong, &c.

And euer shalbe written
And after shall be said,
True loue is not forgotten,
Though Phillida be dead.

Ding dong, &c.

In sable will I mourne,
The blacke shall be my weede,
Aye me I heare some talke,
That Phillida is dead.

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,
My Phillida is dead, &c.

A garland shall be framed,
By art and natures skill:
with sundry coloured flowers,
In token of good will.

Ding dong, &c.

With sundry coloured Ribbands
As much I will bestow,
They should be blacke, and yellow,
In token of good will.

Ding dong, &c.

True louers be not scanting,
with teares to make me mone,
Since Philida is wanting.
And all my ioyes are gone.

Ding dong, &c.

She was my louely true loue,
My heart can witnesse well:
wherefore in signe I loue her,
Once more Ile ring her knell.

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,
My Phillada is dead:
Ile sticke a branch of Willowes,
At my faire Phillis head.

FINIS.

Coridons Resolution.

There is a Lady sweet and kinde
Was neuer face so pleasde my minde:
I did but see her passing by,
And yet I loue her till I die.

Her iesture, motion, and her smiles
Her wit, her voyce my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart I know not why,
And yet I loue her till I dye.

Now I her fast betwixt mine armes
Iudge you that thinke such sports were harmes,
Wert any harme, no fie, fie
For I will loue her till I die.

Should I remaine confined there,
So long as Phœbus in his sphere:
He to request, she to deny
Yet would I loue her till I die.

Cupid is winged and doth range
Her countrey, so my loue doth change:
But change she earth or change she skye.
Yet will I loue her till I die.

FINIS.

The Shepheards Dialogue of loue betweene Willy and Cuddy.
[_]

To the tune of Maying time.

Willy,

How now shepheard what meanes that?
Why wearst thou willow in thy hat,
Why are thy Scarfes of red and yellow,
Turnde to branches of greene willow.

Cuddy
They are changde and so am I,
Sorrow liues but pleasure dyes;
She hath now forsaken me,
which makes me weare the Willow tree.

Will.
What, that Phillis loude thee long,
Is that the Lasse hath done thee wrong:
She that loude thee long and best,
Is her loue turned to a Iest.

Cudd.
She that loued me long and best,
She me set my heart at rest:
He she a new Loue loues (not me)
That makes me weare the Willow tree.

Will.
Come then shepheard let vs ioyne,
Since thy hap is like to mine:
For the wight I thought most true,
Now hath changde me for a new.

Cudd.
Well then since thy hap is so,
Take no care but let her go:
Thy hard hap doth mine appease,

Company doth sorrowes ease.

Will.
Then I will forget her loue,
Since wantonly she false will proue:
[Then] for her sake bid all adue,
[For] seldome women do proue true.
[And] for her sake Ile sit and pine,
[For] she was once a Loue of mine:
Which shall nere forgotten be,
Though I weare the willow tree.

Cudd.
Heards man be aduised by me,
Cast of griefe and willow tree:
For thy greefe breeds her content,
She is pleasde if thou lament.

Will.
Then I will be rulde by thee,
There lies griefe and willow tree:
Thenceforth I will do as they,
Rouse a new loue euery day.

University of Virginia Library

THE GOLDEN Garland of Princely pleasures and delicate Delights.

Wherein is conteined the Histories of many of the Kings, Queenes, Princes, Lords, Ladies, Knights, and Gentlewomen of this Kingdome.

1. [The First Part.]

A Lamentable Song of the death of King Leare and his three DAVGHTERS.

A new Song of the wooing of Queene Katherine,

by a gallant yong Gentleman of Wales named Owen Tudor: lately translated out of Welch into our English phrase.

A Princely song of King Richard Cordelion King of England, of his bold courage, and lamentable death.

A gallant Song of the Garter of England and how it was made first an honour to this Kingdome by King Edward the third.

A lamentable Ditty on the death of the Lord Guilford Dudley, and the Lady Iane Gray,

that for their parents ambition, in seeking to make these two yong Princes King and Queene of England, were both beheaded in the Tower of London.

A ioyfull song of the deserued praises of good Queene Elizabeth,

how Princely she behaued her selfe at Tilbury Campe in 88. when the Spaniards threatned the inuasion of this Kingdome.

A new Song of the strange liues of two yong Princes in England, who became two Shepherds vpon Salisbury Plaine, and after restored to their former estates.

A Song of the deposing of King Richard the second, and how after many miseries hee was murthered in Pomphret Castle.

A song of an English Knight, that marryed the royall Princesse, Lady Mary, sister to King Henry the eight,

which Knight was afterward made Duke of Suffolke.

A Song of the life and death of King Richard the third,

who after many murthers by him committed vpon the Princes and Nobles of this Land, was slaine at the battell of Bosworth in Lester shire by Henry the seuenth King of England.

A Lamentable Song of Lady Elinor, daughter to the Duke of Buckingham,

who dyed for loue of one Captaine Ienkenson that had been a Prentise of London, who went to the siege of Ierusalem with Edward the first, then King of England.

The Letter.

Captaine Ienkinsons Answere.

A Courtly new Song of the Princely wooing of the faire Maide of London by K. Edward.

The faire maide of Londons answer to King Edwards wanton Loue.

The most cruell murther of Edward the fift, and his brother Duke of Yorke, in the Towre; by their Vncle Richard Duke of Gloster.

A excellent Song, entituled, A penny-worth of Wit.

Titus Andronicus complaint.

2. The Second Part of the Golden Garland.

The Shepheards resolution.

The Shepheards Pipe.

Coridons farewell to Phillis.

The Weauers Shuttle

or a Loue-Song made by a Prentise of London, that loued a yong Gentlewoman in the countrey, doubting of her constancy.

Of the inconueniences by Marriage.

The Shepheards Ioy.

A pleasant Song Intituled You pretty wantons warble.

The Louers lamentation for the death of faire Phillis.

The Maidens complaint.

The inconstancy of the World.

Loues Constancy.

Coridons dolefull knell.

Coridons Resolution.

The Shepheards Dialogue of loue betweene Willy and Cuddy.[_] To the tune of Maying time.

The Shepheards Dialogue of loue betweene Willy and Cuddy.
[_]

To the tune of Maying time.