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A pleasaunte Laborinth called Churchyardes Chance

framed on Fancies, uttered with verses, and writtee[n] to giue solace to eury well disposed mynde: wherein not withstanding are many heauie Epitaphes, sad and sorowfull discourses and sutche a multitude of other honest pastymes for the season (and passages of witte) that the reader therein maie thinke his tyme well bestowed. All whiche workes for the pleasure of the worlde, and recreation of the worthie, and dedicated to the right honourable sir Thomas Bromley, Knight, Lorde Chancelour of Englande [by Thomas Churchyard]
 

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Of an enemie.
 

Of an enemie.

No simple mynde maie thriue a daie,
The suttell Snakes seeks out suche sleight:
Then looke thou arme thy self I saie,
With face of Brasse, the feelde to feight.
And neuer yeeld, the race to ronne,
Till courage hath the conquest wonne.
Suspecte the worste, and woorke the beste,
And sharpe thy witts, to sheeld the harme:
And seeke the Serpents in their neste,
Although in hols, the Adders swarme.

40

When craft is curbde with cunnyng skill,
A simple minde shall haue his will.
Finis.