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The Labyrinth Of Mans Life

Or Vertves Delight and Enuies opposite. By Io: Norden

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The Authors farewell to his Booke.

Thou silly Orphan of my dulled braine,
I send thee forth, in basest Country tyre:
Least falling in, to that high Courtly traine,
Should'st be enui'd if thou wert clothed higher,
So were my cost bestow'd in vaine.
Therefore where so thou shalt be entertain'd
Giue what content may best befit thy place:
And tell thy Readers forc'dly wert constrain'd,
To leaue thy Syre, and seeke some vulgar-graces
Which by desert may be obtain'd.
And as thou maist flye selfe-conceited wits,
Though they pretend experience:
The meanest apprehension best befits,
Thy Country-breeding wanting Eloquence.
Digest it wel, whats ere hits.
If any taxe thee with too base a stile,
And say thy verse, is but a ragged Rime:
Intreat those Eloquents to vse their file,
To burnish thee from that suggested crime,
So shalt thou seeme A new compile.
Some will content to heare thee speake so plaine,
That long to learne, and be not superfine:
First will them read, if cause be to complaine,
If matter nor the meeter please their eyne,
Be not dismaid, come home againe.


And leaue this errand with the Curious,
Who seeme to couet thinges most intricate.
The weaker, willing, though lesse Coyous,
Search, and conceiue, what Readings intimate,
Else Reading were superfluous,
And tell the Captious thou art not ignorant,
Of higher Poems and Inuention:
But that thou dred'st to be deem'd arrogant,
Exceeding measure of Intention,
Soe censur'd too extrauagant.
Chawcer, Gowre, the bishop of dunkell,
In ages farre remote were eloquent:
Now Sidney, Spencer, others moe excell,
And are in latter times more excellent,
To antique Lauriats paralell.
But matters of great admiration,
In moderne Poesies are wordes estrang'd
Inuention of hid speculation,
The scope whereof hardly conceiu'd as it is rang'd
But by a Comentation.
Who readeth Chaucer as a moderne man,
Not looking back into the time he wrote,
Will hardly his ambiguous phrases scan,
Which in that time were vulgar, well I wote,
Yet we run back where he began.
And all our praised Poems art beset,
With Chaucers wordes and Phrases ancient:
Which these our moderne ages quite forget
Yet in their Poems, far more Eloquent,
Not yet from Gowre or Chaucer fett.
Why should it not befit our Poets well,
To vse the wordes and Phrases Uulgar know?


Why should d they rouze them from obliuions cel
Sith their ambiguous termes frō whence they flow
The learned'st Reader scant can tell.
But thinges illustrated with art and sence,
As Chaucer did his Troylus and Creside:
To amplifi't aptly with Eloquence,
Base matter by good Verse is beautifi'de,
And gaines admired Reuerence.
Not vsing wordes and Phrases all so darke,
But so familiarly as vulgar may,
Well apprehend the Poets couched marke,
And see th' Idea which he doth display:
About the Center in his Arke.
This will excuse thee to the friendly wise,
But not perhaps vnto the Captious:
Be silent yet, know, nothing fructefies
In fattest wit, if will be scurrilous,
Wit wilfull, will wil tyrranise.
But for more hoped comfort and content,
Keepe on thy way, first to that worthy wight:
To whose protecting fauour I thee sent,
He either will accept thee, basely dight,
Or send thee back incontinent.
And thus I leaue thee to thy fortunes lot,
As other Orphans left depriu'd of friendes:
If he affect thee, though some other not,
Though some do rob thee, and some make amends
It is enough that thou hast got.