A Remembravnce of the wel imployed life, & godly end, of George Gaskoigne Esquire who deceased at Stalmford in LincolneShire the 7. of October 1577. The reporte of Geor. Whetstons ... an eye Witnes of his Godly and charitable end in this world |
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 | A Remembravnce of the wel imployed life, & godly end, of George Gaskoigne Esquire |  |
The wel imployed life, and godly end of G. Gascoigne Esquire.
And
is there none, wil help to tel my tale/
who (ah) in helth/a thousād plaints haue shōe?
feeles all mē ioy? cā no mā skil of bale?
o yes I see/a comfort in my mone.
Help me good George, my life and death to touch
some man for thee, may one day doo asmuch.
who (ah) in helth/a thousād plaints haue shōe?
feeles all mē ioy? cā no mā skil of bale?
o yes I see/a comfort in my mone.
Help me good George, my life and death to touch
some man for thee, may one day doo asmuch.
Thou seest my death, and long my life didst knowe,
my life; nay death, to liue I now begin:
But some wil say. Durus est hic sermo,
Tis hard indeed, for such as feed on sin.
Yet trust me frēds (though flesh doth hardly bow)
I am resolu'd, I neuer liu'd til now.
my life; nay death, to liue I now begin:
But some wil say. Durus est hic sermo,
Tis hard indeed, for such as feed on sin.
Yet trust me frēds (though flesh doth hardly bow)
I am resolu'd, I neuer liu'd til now.
And on what cause, in order shall ensue,
My worldly life (is first) must play his parte:
Whose tale attend, for once the same is true,
Yea VVhetston thou, hast knowen my hidden hart
And therfore I coniure thee to defend:
(when I am dead) my life and godly end.
My worldly life (is first) must play his parte:
Whose tale attend, for once the same is true,
Yea VVhetston thou, hast knowen my hidden hart
And therfore I coniure thee to defend:
(when I am dead) my life and godly end.
First of my life, which some (amis) did knowe,
I leue mine armes, my acts shall blase the same
Yet on a thorne/a Grape wil neuer growe,
no more a Churle, dooth breed a childe of fame.
but (for my birth) my birth right was not great
my father did, his forward sonne defeat,
I leue mine armes, my acts shall blase the same
Yet on a thorne/a Grape wil neuer growe,
no more a Churle, dooth breed a childe of fame.
but (for my birth) my birth right was not great
my father did, his forward sonne defeat,
This froward deed could scarce my hart dismay.
Uertue (quod I) wil see I shall not lacke:
And wel I wot Domini est terræ,
Besides my wit can guide me from a wrack.
Thus finding cause, to foster hye desire:
I clapt on cost (a help) for to aspire.
Uertue (quod I) wil see I shall not lacke:
And wel I wot Domini est terræ,
Besides my wit can guide me from a wrack.
Thus finding cause, to foster hye desire:
I clapt on cost (a help) for to aspire.
But foolish man dect in my Pecocks plumes,
my wanton wil commaunded strait my wit:
Yea, brainsick I, was, drunk with fancies fumes,
But, Nemo sine crimine viuit.
For he that findes himself from vices free
I giue him leue, to throwe a stone at me.
my wanton wil commaunded strait my wit:
Yea, brainsick I, was, drunk with fancies fumes,
But, Nemo sine crimine viuit.
For he that findes himself from vices free
I giue him leue, to throwe a stone at me.
It helps my praise, that I my fault recite.
The lost sheep found, the feast was made for ioy:
Euil sets out good, as far as black dooth white.
The pure delight, is drayned from anoy.
But (that in cheef, which writers should respect)
trueth is the garde, that keepeth men vnchect.
The lost sheep found, the feast was made for ioy:
Euil sets out good, as far as black dooth white.
The pure delight, is drayned from anoy.
But (that in cheef, which writers should respect)
trueth is the garde, that keepeth men vnchect.
And for a trueth, begilde with self conceit,
I thought yt men would throwe rewards on me
But as a fish, seld bites with out a baight,
So none vnforst, mens needs wil hear or see.
and begging sutes, frō dūghil thoughts proceed:
the mounting minde, had rather sterue in need.
I thought yt men would throwe rewards on me
But as a fish, seld bites with out a baight,
So none vnforst, mens needs wil hear or see.
and begging sutes, frō dūghil thoughts proceed:
the mounting minde, had rather sterue in need.
Wel leaue I hear, of thriftles wil to write,
wit found my rents, agreed not with my charge:
The sweet of war, sung by the carpet knight,
In poste haste then shipt me in Uentures Barge.
These lusty lims, Saunce vse (quod, I) wil rust:
That pitie were, for I to them must trust.
wit found my rents, agreed not with my charge:
The sweet of war, sung by the carpet knight,
These lusty lims, Saunce vse (quod, I) wil rust:
That pitie were, for I to them must trust.
Wel plaste at length, among the drunken Dutch,
(though rumours lewd, impayred my desert)
I boldely vaunt, the blast of Fame is such,
As prooues I had, a froward sowrs hart.
My slender gaine a further witnes is:
For woorthiest men, the spoiles of war do mis.
(though rumours lewd, impayred my desert)
I boldely vaunt, the blast of Fame is such,
As prooues I had, a froward sowrs hart.
My slender gaine a further witnes is:
For woorthiest men, the spoiles of war do mis.
Euen there the man, that went to fight for pence,
Cacht by sly hap, in prison vile was popt:
Yea had not woordes, fought for my liues defence,
For all my hands, my breth had there been stopt
But I in fine, did so perswade my foe:
as (scot free) I, was homewards set to goe.
Cacht by sly hap, in prison vile was popt:
Yea had not woordes, fought for my liues defence,
For all my hands, my breth had there been stopt
But I in fine, did so perswade my foe:
as (scot free) I, was homewards set to goe.
Thus wore I time, the welthier not a whit,
Yet awckward chāce, lackt force, to beard my hope
In peace (quod I) ile trust vnto my wit,
the windowes of my muse, then straight I ope
And first I showe, the trauail of such time:
as I in youth, imployd in loouing rime.
Yet awckward chāce, lackt force, to beard my hope
In peace (quod I) ile trust vnto my wit,
the windowes of my muse, then straight I ope
And first I showe, the trauail of such time:
as I in youth, imployd in loouing rime.
Some straight way said (their tungs wt enuy fret)
those wanton layes, inductions were to vice:
Such did me wrong, for (quod nocet, docet)
our neyghbours harms, are Items to the wise.
And sure these toyes, do showe for your behoof:
The woes of looue, and not the wayes to loue.
those wanton layes, inductions were to vice:
Such did me wrong, for (quod nocet, docet)
our neyghbours harms, are Items to the wise.
And sure these toyes, do showe for your behoof:
The woes of looue, and not the wayes to loue.
And that the worlde might read them as I ment,
I left this vaine, to path the vertuous waies:
The lewd I checkt, in Glas of gouerment,
And (laboring stil, by paines, to purchace praise,
I wrought a Glasse, wherin eche man may see:
Within his minde, what canckred vices be.
I left this vaine, to path the vertuous waies:
The lewd I checkt, in Glas of gouerment,
And (laboring stil, by paines, to purchace praise,
I wrought a Glasse, wherin eche man may see:
Within his minde, what canckred vices be.
The druncken soule, transformed to a beast,
my diet helps, a man, again to make:
But (that which should, be praisd abooue the rest)
My Doomes day Drum frō sin dooth you awake
For honest sport, which dooth refresh the wit:
I haue for you, a book of hunting writ.
my diet helps, a man, again to make:
But (that which should, be praisd abooue the rest)
My Doomes day Drum frō sin dooth you awake
For honest sport, which dooth refresh the wit:
I haue for you, a book of hunting writ.
These few books, are dayly in your eyes,
Parhaps of woorth;my fame aliue to keep:
Yet other woorks, (I think) of more emprise,
Coucht close as yet, within my cofers sleep.
yea til I dy, none shall the same reuele:
So men wil say, that Gaskoign wrote of Zeale.
Parhaps of woorth;my fame aliue to keep:
Yet other woorks, (I think) of more emprise,
Coucht close as yet, within my cofers sleep.
yea til I dy, none shall the same reuele:
So men wil say, that Gaskoign wrote of Zeale.
O Enuy vile, foule fall thee wretched sot,
Thou mortall foe, vnto the forward minde:
I curse thee wretch, the onely cause godwot.
That my good wil, no more account did finde.
And not content, thy self to doo me scar:
Thou nipst my hart with Spight, Suspect & Care.
Thou mortall foe, vnto the forward minde:
I curse thee wretch, the onely cause godwot.
That my good wil, no more account did finde.
And not content, thy self to doo me scar:
Thou nipst my hart with Spight, Suspect & Care.
And first of Spight foule Enuies poysoned pye,
To Midas eares, this As hath Lyntius, eyes:
With painted shewes, he heaues him self on hie,
Ful oft this Dolte, in learned authors pries,
But as the Drone, the hony hiue, dooth rob:
with woorthy books, so deales this idle lob.
To Midas eares, this As hath Lyntius, eyes:
With painted shewes, he heaues him self on hie,
But as the Drone, the hony hiue, dooth rob:
with woorthy books, so deales this idle lob.
He filcheth tearms, to paint a pratling tung,
whē (God he knowes) he knows not what he saies
And lest the wise should finde his wit but yung,
He woorks all means, their woorks for to dispraise.
To smooth his speech, ye beast this patch doth crop
He showes the bad, the writers mouthes to stop.
whē (God he knowes) he knows not what he saies
And lest the wise should finde his wit but yung,
He woorks all means, their woorks for to dispraise.
To smooth his speech, ye beast this patch doth crop
He showes the bad, the writers mouthes to stop.
Ye woorse then this, he dealeth in offence,
(Ten good turnes, he with silence striketh dead)
A slender fault, ten times beyond pretence,
This wretched Spight in euery place dooth spread.
And with his breth, the Viper dooth infect:
The hearers heads, and harts with false suspect.
(Ten good turnes, he with silence striketh dead)
A slender fault, ten times beyond pretence,
This wretched Spight in euery place dooth spread.
And with his breth, the Viper dooth infect:
The hearers heads, and harts with false suspect.
Now of Suspect: the propertie to showe,
He hides his dought, yet stil mistrusteth more:
The man suspect, is so debard to knowe,
The cause and cure of this his ranckling sore.
And so in vain, hee good account dooth seek,
Who by this Feende, is brought into mislike.
He hides his dought, yet stil mistrusteth more:
The man suspect, is so debard to knowe,
The cause and cure of this his ranckling sore.
And so in vain, hee good account dooth seek,
Who by this Feende, is brought into mislike.
Now hear my tale, or cause which kild my hart,
These priuy foes, to tread me vnder foot:
My true intent, with forged faults did thwart:
so that I found, for me it was no boot.
to woork as Bees, from weeds, wt hony dranes
when Spiders turnd, my flowers vnto banes.
These priuy foes, to tread me vnder foot:
My true intent, with forged faults did thwart:
so that I found, for me it was no boot.
to woork as Bees, from weeds, wt hony dranes
when Spiders turnd, my flowers vnto banes.
Whē my plain woords, by fooles misconstred were
by whose fond tales reward hild his hands back
To quite my woorth, a cause to settle care:
within my brest, who wel deseru'd, did lack,
for who can brook, to see a painted crowe:
Singing a loft, whē Turtles mourn belowe.
by whose fond tales reward hild his hands back
To quite my woorth, a cause to settle care:
within my brest, who wel deseru'd, did lack,
for who can brook, to see a painted crowe:
Singing a loft, whē Turtles mourn belowe.
What man can yeld, to starue among his books,
and see pied Doultes, vppon a booty feed?
What honest minde, can liue by fau'ring looks,
and see the lewd, to rech a freendly deed?
What hart can bide, in bloody warres to toile:
when carpet swads, deuour ye Soldiers spoile?
and see pied Doultes, vppon a booty feed?
What honest minde, can liue by fau'ring looks,
and see the lewd, to rech a freendly deed?
What hart can bide, in bloody warres to toile:
when carpet swads, deuour ye Soldiers spoile?
I am the wretch, whom Fortune flirted soe,
These men, were brib'd, ere I had breth to speak:
Muse then no whit, with this huge ouerthrowe,
though crusshīg care, my giltles hart doth break
But you wil say, that in delight doo dwell:
my outward showe, no inward greef did tel.
These men, were brib'd, ere I had breth to speak:
Muse then no whit, with this huge ouerthrowe,
though crusshīg care, my giltles hart doth break
But you wil say, that in delight doo dwell:
my outward showe, no inward greef did tel.
I graunt it true, but hark vnto the rest,
The Swā in songs, dooth knolle her passing bel:
The Nightingale, with thornes against her brest
whē she might mourn, her sweetest layes doth yel
The valiant man, so playes a pleasant parte:
When mothes of mone, doo gnaw vppō his hart.
The Swā in songs, dooth knolle her passing bel:
The Nightingale, with thornes against her brest
whē she might mourn, her sweetest layes doth yel
The valiant man, so playes a pleasant parte:
When mothes of mone, doo gnaw vppō his hart.
For proofe, my self, with care not so a feard,
But as hurt Deere waile, (through their woūds alone
When stoutly they doo stand amōg ye heard.
So I that saw, but few hark to my mone.
made choise to tel deaf walles, my wretched plaint:
in sight of men, who nothing seemd to faint.
But as hurt Deere waile, (through their woūds alone
When stoutly they doo stand amōg ye heard.
made choise to tel deaf walles, my wretched plaint:
in sight of men, who nothing seemd to faint.
But as oft vse, dooth weare an iron cote,
as missing drops, hard flints in time doth pearse
By peece meales, care so wrought me vnder foot
but more then straunge is that I now rehearse,
Three months I liued, and did digest no food:
when none by arte my sicknes vnderstood.
as missing drops, hard flints in time doth pearse
By peece meales, care so wrought me vnder foot
but more then straunge is that I now rehearse,
Three months I liued, and did digest no food:
when none by arte my sicknes vnderstood.
What helpeth then? to death I needs must pine,
yet as the horse, the vse of warre which knowes:
If he be hurt, will neither winch nor whine,
but til he dye, poste with his Rider goes.
Euē so my hart, whilst lūgs may lend me breth:
Bares vp my limmes, who liuing/go like death.
yet as the horse, the vse of warre which knowes:
If he be hurt, will neither winch nor whine,
but til he dye, poste with his Rider goes.
Euē so my hart, whilst lūgs may lend me breth:
Bares vp my limmes, who liuing/go like death.
But what auailes, Achilles hart, to haue,
King Cressus welth, the sway of all the world:
The Prince, the Peere, so to the wretched slaue,
whē death assaults, frō earthly holdes are whorld.
Yea oft he strikes ere one can stir his eye:
Then good you liue, as you would dayly dye.
King Cressus welth, the sway of all the world:
The Prince, the Peere, so to the wretched slaue,
whē death assaults, frō earthly holdes are whorld.
Yea oft he strikes ere one can stir his eye:
Then good you liue, as you would dayly dye.
You see the plight, I wretched now am in,
I looke much like a threshed eare of corne:
I holde a forme, within a wrimpled skin,
but from my bones, the fat and flesh is worne
See, see the man, late plesures Minion:
binde to the bones, with care & wretched mone
I looke much like a threshed eare of corne:
I holde a forme, within a wrimpled skin,
but from my bones, the fat and flesh is worne
See, see the man, late plesures Minion:
binde to the bones, with care & wretched mone
See gallants see, a picture worth the sight,
(as you are now, my self was heertofore)
My body late, stuft ful of manly might,
As bare as Iob, is brought to Death his doore.
My hand of late, which fought to win me fame:
Stif clung with colde, wants forse to write my nāe
(as you are now, my self was heertofore)
My body late, stuft ful of manly might,
As bare as Iob, is brought to Death his doore.
My hand of late, which fought to win me fame:
Stif clung with colde, wants forse to write my nāe
My legges which bare, my body ful of flesh,
Unable are;to stay my bones vpright:
My tūg (God wot) which talkt as one would wish
In broken woords, can scarce my minde recite.
My head late stuft, with wit and learned skill
may now conceiue, but not conuay my wil.
Unable are;to stay my bones vpright:
My tūg (God wot) which talkt as one would wish
In broken woords, can scarce my minde recite.
My head late stuft, with wit and learned skill
may now conceiue, but not conuay my wil.
What say you freends, this sudain chaunge to see?
You rue my greef, you doo like flesh and blood:
But mone your sinnes, and neuer morne for me,
And to be plain, I would you vnderstood.
My hart dooth swim, in seas of more delight:
Then your who seems, to rue my wretched plight.
You rue my greef, you doo like flesh and blood:
But mone your sinnes, and neuer morne for me,
And to be plain, I would you vnderstood.
My hart dooth swim, in seas of more delight:
Then your who seems, to rue my wretched plight.
What is this world? a net to snare the soule,
A mas of sinne, a desart of deceit:
A moments ioy, an age of wretched dole,
A lure from grace, for flesh a toothsome baight.
Unto the minde, a canker worm of care:
Unsure, vniust, in rendring man his share.
A mas of sinne, a desart of deceit:
A moments ioy, an age of wretched dole,
A lure from grace, for flesh a toothsome baight.
Unto the minde, a canker worm of care:
Unsure, vniust, in rendring man his share.
A place where pride, oreruns the honest minde,
Wheer richmen ioynes, to rob the shiftles wretch:
where bribing mists, the iudges eyes doo blinde,
Where Parasites, the fattest crummes dod catch.
where good deserts (which chalenge like reward)
Are ouer blowen, with blasts of light regard.
Wheer richmen ioynes, to rob the shiftles wretch:
where bribing mists, the iudges eyes doo blinde,
where good deserts (which chalenge like reward)
Are ouer blowen, with blasts of light regard.
And what is man? Dust, Slime, a puf of winde,
Conceiu'd in sin, plaste in the woorld with greef:
Brought vp wt care, til care hath caught his minde,
And then (til death, vouchsafe him some releef)
Day yea nor night, his care dooth take an end:
To gather goods, for other men to spend.
Conceiu'd in sin, plaste in the woorld with greef:
Brought vp wt care, til care hath caught his minde,
And then (til death, vouchsafe him some releef)
Day yea nor night, his care dooth take an end:
To gather goods, for other men to spend.
O foolish man, that art in office plaste,
Think whence thou cam'st, & whether yu shalt goe:
The huge hie Okes, small windes haue ouer cast,
when slender reeds, in roughest wethers growe.
Euen so pale death, oft spares the wretched wight:
And woundeth you, who wallow in delight.
Think whence thou cam'st, & whether yu shalt goe:
The huge hie Okes, small windes haue ouer cast,
when slender reeds, in roughest wethers growe.
Euen so pale death, oft spares the wretched wight:
And woundeth you, who wallow in delight.
You lusty youths, that nurish high desire,
Abase your plumes, which makes you look so big:
The Colliers cut, the Courtiars Steed wil tire,
Euen so the Clark, the Parsones graue dooth dig.
Whose hap is yet, heer longer life to win:
Dooth heap (God wot) but sorowe vnto sinne.
Abase your plumes, which makes you look so big:
The Colliers cut, the Courtiars Steed wil tire,
Euen so the Clark, the Parsones graue dooth dig.
Whose hap is yet, heer longer life to win:
Dooth heap (God wot) but sorowe vnto sinne.
And to be short, all sortes of men take heede,
the thunder boltes, the loftye Towers teare:
The lightning flash, consumes the house of reed,
yea more in time, all earthly things will weare,
Saue only man, who as his earthly liuing is:
Shall liue in wo, or els in endles blis.
the thunder boltes, the loftye Towers teare:
The lightning flash, consumes the house of reed,
yea more in time, all earthly things will weare,
Saue only man, who as his earthly liuing is:
Shall liue in wo, or els in endles blis.
More would I say, if life could lend me space,
but all in vain, death waites of no mans will:
The tired Iade, dooth trip at euery pace,
When pāpered horse, will praunce against the hil.
So helthfull men, at long discourses sporte:
When few woords, the sick, would fain reporte.
but all in vain, death waites of no mans will:
The tired Iade, dooth trip at euery pace,
When pāpered horse, will praunce against the hil.
So helthfull men, at long discourses sporte:
When few woords, the sick, would fain reporte.
The best is this, my will is quickly made,
my welth is small, the more my conscience ease;
This short accompt (which makes me ill apaid)
my louing wife and sonne, will hardly please.
But in this case, to please them as I may:
These folowīg woords, my testamēt do wray.
my welth is small, the more my conscience ease;
This short accompt (which makes me ill apaid)
my louing wife and sonne, will hardly please.
But in this case, to please them as I may:
These folowīg woords, my testamēt do wray.
My soule I first, bequeath Almighty God,
and though my sinnes are greuous in his sight:
I firmly trust, to scape his firy rod,
when as my faith his deer Sonne shall recite.
Whose precious blood (to quēch his Fathers ire)
Is sole the cause, that saues me from hel fire.
and though my sinnes are greuous in his sight:
I firmly trust, to scape his firy rod,
when as my faith his deer Sonne shall recite.
Whose precious blood (to quēch his Fathers ire)
Is sole the cause, that saues me from hel fire.
My Body now which once I decked braue
(from whence it cam) vnto the earth I giue:
I wish no pomp, the same for to ingraue,
once buried corn, dooth rot before it liue.
And flesh and blood in this self sorte is tryed:
Thus buriall cost, is (with out proffit) pride.
(from whence it cam) vnto the earth I giue:
I wish no pomp, the same for to ingraue,
once buried corn, dooth rot before it liue.
And flesh and blood in this self sorte is tryed:
Thus buriall cost, is (with out proffit) pride.
I humbly giue, my gratious soueraign Queene
(by seruice bound) my true and loyall hart:
Aud trueth to say, a sight but rarely seene,
as Iron greues from th' adamant to parte.
Her highnes so, hath reacht the Grace alone:
To gain all harts, yet giues her hart to none.
(by seruice bound) my true and loyall hart:
Aud trueth to say, a sight but rarely seene,
Her highnes so, hath reacht the Grace alone:
To gain all harts, yet giues her hart to none.
My louing wife, whose face I fain would see,
my loue I giue, with all the welth I haue:
But sence my goods (God knoweth) but slēder bee
most gratious Queene, for Christ his sake I craue
(nor for any seruice that I haue doon)
you will vouchsafe, to aid her and my Sonne.
my loue I giue, with all the welth I haue:
But sence my goods (God knoweth) but slēder bee
most gratious Queene, for Christ his sake I craue
(nor for any seruice that I haue doon)
you will vouchsafe, to aid her and my Sonne.
Come, come deer Sonne, my blessing take in parte.
and therwithall I giue thee this in charge:
First serue thou God, then vse bothe wit and arte,
thy Fathers det, of seruice to discharge.
which (forste by death) her Maiestie he owes:
beyond desarts, who still rewardes bestowes.
and therwithall I giue thee this in charge:
First serue thou God, then vse bothe wit and arte,
thy Fathers det, of seruice to discharge.
which (forste by death) her Maiestie he owes:
beyond desarts, who still rewardes bestowes.
I freely now all sortes of Men forgiue,
Their wrongs to me, and wish them to amend:
And as good men, in charitie should liue,
I craue my faults may no mans minde offend.
Lo heer is all, I haue for to bequest:
And this is all, I of the world request.
Their wrongs to me, and wish them to amend:
And as good men, in charitie should liue,
I craue my faults may no mans minde offend.
Lo heer is all, I haue for to bequest:
And this is all, I of the world request.
Now farwell Wife, my Sonne, & Freends farwel.
Farwell O world, the baight of all abuse:
Death where is thy stīg? O Deuil where is thy hel?
I little forse, the forses you can vse.
Yea to your teeth, I doo you both defye:
Vt essem Christe, cupio dissolui.
Farwell O world, the baight of all abuse:
Death where is thy stīg? O Deuil where is thy hel?
I little forse, the forses you can vse.
Yea to your teeth, I doo you both defye:
Vt essem Christe, cupio dissolui.
In this good mood, an end woorthy the showe,
Bereft of speech, his hands to God he heau'd:
And sweetly thus, good Gaskoigne went a Dio,
Yea with such ease, as no man there preceiu'd,
By strugling signe, or striuing for his breth:
That he abode, the paines and pangs of Death.
Bereft of speech, his hands to God he heau'd:
And sweetly thus, good Gaskoigne went a Dio,
Yea with such ease, as no man there preceiu'd,
By strugling signe, or striuing for his breth:
That he abode, the paines and pangs of Death.
Exhortatio.
His Sean is playd, you folowe on the act,
Life is but death, til flesh, and blood be slain:
God graunt his woords, within your harts be pact
As good men doo, holde earthly pleasures vain.
The good for ther needs, Vtuntur mundo:
And vse good deeds, Vt fruantur Deo.
Life is but death, til flesh, and blood be slain:
God graunt his woords, within your harts be pact
As good men doo, holde earthly pleasures vain.
The good for ther needs, Vtuntur mundo:
And vse good deeds, Vt fruantur Deo.
Contemne the chaunge, (vse nay abuse) not God,
Through holy showes, this worldly muck to scratch:
To deale with men & Saints is very od.
Hypocrisie, a man may ouer catch.
But Hypocrite, thy hart the Lord dooth see:
Who by thy thoughts (not thy words) wil iudge thee.
Through holy showes, this worldly muck to scratch:
To deale with men & Saints is very od.
Hypocrisie, a man may ouer catch.
But Hypocrite, thy hart the Lord dooth see:
Who by thy thoughts (not thy words) wil iudge thee.
Thou iesting foole, which mak'st at sin a face,
Beware that God, in earnest plague thee not:
For where as he, is coldest in his grace,
Euen there he is, in vengeance very hot.
Tempt not to far, the lothest man to fight:
When he is forste, the lustiest blowes dooth smight.
Beware that God, in earnest plague thee not:
For where as he, is coldest in his grace,
Euen there he is, in vengeance very hot.
Tempt not to far, the lothest man to fight:
When he is forste, the lustiest blowes dooth smight.
You Courtiers, check not, Merchāts for their gain,
you by your losse, doo match with them in blame:
The Lawyers life, you Merchants doo not staine,
The blinde for slouth, may hardly check the lame.
I meane that you, in Ballance of deceit:
wil Lawyers payze, I feare with ouer waight.
you by your losse, doo match with them in blame:
The blinde for slouth, may hardly check the lame.
I meane that you, in Ballance of deceit:
wil Lawyers payze, I feare with ouer waight.
You Lawyers now who earthly Iudges are,
you shalbe iudg'd, and therfore iudge aright:
you count Ignorantia Iuris no bar,
Then ignorance, your sinnes wil not acquite.
Read, read Gods law, wt which yours should agre:
That you may iudge, as you would iudged bee.
you shalbe iudg'd, and therfore iudge aright:
you count Ignorantia Iuris no bar,
Then ignorance, your sinnes wil not acquite.
Read, read Gods law, wt which yours should agre:
That you may iudge, as you would iudged bee.
You Prelats now, whose woords are perfect good,
Make showe in woorks/yt you your woords insue:
A Diamond, holdes his vertue set in wood,
but yet in Golde, it hath a fresher hue,
Euen so Gods woord, tolde by the Deuil is pure:
Preacht yet by Saints, it doth more heed procure.
Make showe in woorks/yt you your woords insue:
A Diamond, holdes his vertue set in wood,
but yet in Golde, it hath a fresher hue,
Euen so Gods woord, tolde by the Deuil is pure:
Preacht yet by Saints, it doth more heed procure.
And Reader now, what office so thou haue,
to whose behoofe, this breef discourse is tolde:
Prepare thy self, eche houre for the graue,
the market eats aswel yong sheep as olde.
Euen so, the Childe, who feares the smarting rod:
The Father oft dooth lead the way to God.
to whose behoofe, this breef discourse is tolde:
Prepare thy self, eche houre for the graue,
the market eats aswel yong sheep as olde.
Euen so, the Childe, who feares the smarting rod:
The Father oft dooth lead the way to God.
And bothe in time, this worldly life shall leaue,
thus sure thou art, but know'st not when to dye:
Then good thou liue, least death doo the deceiue.
as through good life, thou maist his force defye.
For trust me man, no better match can make:
Then leaue vnsure, for certain things to take.
thus sure thou art, but know'st not when to dye:
Then good thou liue, least death doo the deceiue.
as through good life, thou maist his force defye.
Then leaue vnsure, for certain things to take.
Viuit post funera Virtus.
An Epitaph, written by G. W. of the death, of M. G. Gaskoygne.
For Gaskoygnes death, leaue of to mone, or morne
You are deceiued, aliue the man is stil:
A liue? O yea, and laugheth death to scorne,
In that, that he, his fleshly lyfe did kil.
You are deceiued, aliue the man is stil:
A liue? O yea, and laugheth death to scorne,
In that, that he, his fleshly lyfe did kil.
For by such death, tvvo lyues he gaines for one,
His Soule in heauen dooth liue in endles ioye
His vvorthy vvoorks, such fame in earth haue sovvne,
As sack nor vvrack, his name can there destroy.
His Soule in heauen dooth liue in endles ioye
His vvorthy vvoorks, such fame in earth haue sovvne,
As sack nor vvrack, his name can there destroy.
But you vvill say, by death he only gaines.
And hovv his life, vvould many stand in stead:
O dain not Freend (to counterchaunge his paynes)
If novv in heauen, he haue his earned meade.
For once in earth, his toyle vvas passing great:
And vve deuourd the svveet of all his svveat.
And hovv his life, vvould many stand in stead:
O dain not Freend (to counterchaunge his paynes)
If novv in heauen, he haue his earned meade.
For once in earth, his toyle vvas passing great:
And vve deuourd the svveet of all his svveat.
FINIS.
Nemo ante obitum beatus.
| A Remembravnce of the wel imployed life, & godly end, of George Gaskoigne Esquire | |