A pleasaunte Laborinth called Churchyardes Chance ::

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]

Churchyard, Thomas (1520?-1604)

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My Ladie of Lennoyes graces Epitaphe.

An Epitaphe of sir Nicholas Bacon Knight, late Lorde Keeper.

Sir Hugh Pauletts Epitaphe.

Sir VVillyam Courtneis Epitaphe.

Sir VVillyam Pickryngrs Epitaphe.

Maister Hampdens Epitaphe.

My Ladie Baggnalles Epitaphe who died at the Nuerie.

An Epitaphe of one maistres Blunt, The Ladie Pauletts sister.

Maister VValter Archer his Epitaphe, an auncient Borgis of Kilkenie

The Lorde Braies Epitaphe.

Sir Jhon Constables Epitaphe.

The phantasticall Monarkes Epitaphe.

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Of the fickle faithe of men.

Of a Flatterer and a Backbiter.

A good description of a freende.

A warnyng from Courte.

Of a Courtiers life, and how the worst sorte findes beste Fortune.

Of woordes spoken by a greate personage.

A description of Desire.

Of a vicious woman.

Of vnsounde freendes.

A matter of fonde Cupid, and vain Venus.

This showes the vanitie of some hopes.

The meetyng of twoo noble knightes of the Garter (sir Henry Sidney, and the Erle of Essex) in Irelande, twoo miles beyond Dradath the xxj, of September, and 17 yere in the raigne of our souerain ladie Quene Elizabeth.

Of my Lorde cheef Baron that was.

Of a noble personage.

A letter in Maie, sent to Maister Henry Knowles house at Gobbyns.

Of the want of will.

Of twoo vertuous sisters.

Translated out of Latine.

A discription of the goodnesse that growes in Cicilia.

A matter of repulce, goyng to the Sea.

Of one that for vertues sake honored a freend.

VVritten from the Countrey twentie yere agoe, to one that poorely remaines at the Courte yet.

Of an iniurie by faunyng freendes.

Of the quietnesse that plaine Countrey bryngeth.

Of a fearfull Dreame.

Of a harde worlde.

Made against Idell and vain Rimes.

Of the vanitie of youth.

VVritten of a gentleman, whose name is in the verses.

Non est fides super terram.

Of a disdainfull persone.

A letter to maister Cressie.

A speciall trifle on a fickle woman.

Uerses written on the Muster that was made by the Pensioners before the Queene.

VVritten of the Queene, when her highnesse was in trouble.

Verses giuen the Quenes highnesse at windsor.

A Newe yeres gift to the Erle of Ormond, giuen at Kilkennie, when the Erle of Essex was in Irelande.

A touche stone to trie an error from a trothe.

For the losse of a mightie and noble mannes fauour.

Verses that were giuen to the Quenes maiestie.

A rebuke to vaine louers.

Of fained frendshippe.

Uerses that weare giuen to a moste mightie personage.

The louers of the worlde.

Of a noble mynde.

Of doubtfull hope.

Of the flantyng worlde.

Of a fantasticall dreame taken out of Petrarke.

A fancie as an answere to that dreame.

A fantasie on fifteene woordes, endyng all in one letter.

Of the strong and the weake.

Of Youth and Age.

Of the short estate of man.

The praise of mistres Mabell Browne, wherein vertue is honoured.

Of wandryng and gaddyng abroad.

Of faire thynges and foule, where in a vertuous Ladie is sette out.

Of an enemie.

VVritten in the beginnyng of Kyng Edwardes raigne, whiche verses are called Dauie Dicars Dreame.

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A matter of fonde Cupid, and vain Venus.

In Peascod time whē hound to horne, giu's eare til Buck be kilde
And little laddes with pipes of corne, sat keepyng beastes a filde:
I went to gather strawberies tho, by woodes & groues full faire,
And parchte my face with Phebus so, in walkyng in the aire.

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That doune I laied me by a streame: with bowes all ouer clad,
And there I meate the straungest dreame, that euer yong man had:
Me thought I sawe eche Christmas game: eche reuell all and some,
And euery thyng that I can name, or maie in phansie come.
The substaunce of the sights I sawe, in silence passe thei shall,
Because I lacke the skill to drawe, the order of theim all:
But Uenus shall not passe my penne, whose maidens in disdaine,
Did feede vpon the harts of menne, that Cupides bowe had slaine.
And that blinde boye was all in blood, be bathed to the eares,
And like a conquerour he stood, and scorned louers teares:
I haue quod he more harts at call, then Cæsar could commaunde,
And like the Dere I make them fall, that runneth ore the lande:
One droppes doune here, an other there, in bushes as thei grone,
I bende a scornefull carelesse eare, to heare them make their mone.
Ahe sir quod honest meanyng then, thy boyely bragges I heare,
Whē thou hast woūded many a man, as hounts man doeth the deare
Becomes it thee to triumphe so, thy mother will it not,
For she had rather breake thy bowe, then thou shalt plaie the sot.
What sausie Marchaunt speaketh now, saied Uenus in her rage,
Art thou so blinde, thou knowst not howe, I gouerne euery age:
My sonne doeth shoote no shafte in waste, to me the boye is bounde,
He neuer founde a harte so chaste, but he had power to wounde.
Not so faire Goddes quod Freewill, in me there is a choise,
And cause I am of myne owne ill, if I in thee reioyse:
And when I yeeld my self a slaue, to thee or to thy sonne,
Suche recompence I ought not haue, if thyngs be rightly done.
Why foole steppe forthe Delight & said, whē thou art cōquered thus
Then loe dame Lust that wanton maide, thy mistresse is iwus:
And Lust is Cupids darlyng deare, behold here where she goes,
She crepes the milke warme fleshe so nere, she hides her vnder cloes
Where many priuie thoughts doe dwell, a heauen here on yearth,
For thei haue neuer minde of hell, thei thinkes so muche on merth:
Be still good meanyng quod good Sport, let Cupid triumph make,
For sure his kyngdome shalbe shorte: if we no pleasure take.
Faire Beautie and her plaie feers gaie, the Uirgines vestall too,
Shall sitte and with their fingers plaie, as Idell people doe:

If honest Meanyng fall to froune, and I good Sporte decaie,
Then Uenus glorie will come doune, and thei will pine awaie:
In deede quod witte this your deuise, wt strangnes must be wrought
And where you see these women niece, and looketh to be sought.
With scoulyng browes their follies checke, and so giue thē the sigge,
Let Fancie be no more at becke, when Beautie lokes so bigge:
When Uenus heard how thei conspirde, to murther women so,
Me thought in deede the house was fired, wt stormes & lightnyng tho:
The thunderbolt through windowes burst, & in their stepes awight,
Whiche seemd some soule or sprite a curst, so vglie was the sight.
I charge you Ladies all quod he, looke to pour selues in haste,
For if that men so wilfull be, and haue their thoughts so chaste:
And thei can treade on Cupides breast, and marche on Uenus face,
Then thei shall slepe in quiet reste, when you shall waile your cace.
With that had Venus all in spite, sturde vp the Dames to Ire,
And Luste fell cold, and Beautie white, satte babblyng with Desire:
Whose muttryng words, I might not marke, mutche whispring there a roes,
The daie did lower, the Sonne waxt darke, awaie eche Ladie goes.
But whether went these angrie flocke, our Lorde hymself doeth kno,
Wherewith full loudely crewe the Cocke, and I awaked so:
A dreame quod I, a Dogge it is, I take thereon no keepe,
I gage my hed, sutche toyes as this, doeth spring for lacke of sleepe.

FINIS.

University of Virginia Library

A matter of fonde Cupid, and vain Venus.