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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Of a fantasticall dreame taken out of Petrarke.

The thyng I likte in slepe, I founde a dreame vntrue,
What me mislikt was true, I sawe with open eyes:
A slepe I dreamt and thought, my chere had changed hue,
A wake I felt and founde, my former greef aryes.
You wakened senses now, why heare you not and see,
Those things I heard and sawe, when dreames apperde to mee:
What foolishe custome keeps, my wretched eyes accurste,
In slepe to see the beste, awake beholde the worste.

When pleasantly I slept, a peace was promisde me,
When wofully I wakt, my warres renued againe:
When pleasantly I slept, in blisse I thought to bee,
When wofully I wakte, of hell I felt the paine.
If truthe annoye me then, and falshood please me beste,
With all my harte I wishe, no truthe in me maie reste:
Since wakyng workes me woe, and slepe contents my will,
God graunt I neuer wake, but liue by slepyng still.

Thrise happie are the beastes, by slombryng sleepe that liue,
Sixe months in quiet rest, with eyes iclosed faste:
I doe not saie sutche slepe, a shape of death doeth giue,

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Nor wakyng represent, the life that aye doeth laste.
Contrary humours loe, posses my mased minde,
In wakyng death I feele, in slepyng life I finde:
If slepe the figure be, of death as moste men saie,
Come quickly death O death, and close myne eyes in claie.

Finis.

University of Virginia Library

Of a fantasticall dreame taken out of Petrarke.