University of Virginia Library

The Author to his booke.

Go now plaine booke, where thou maist welcom find,
Walke throw the world, till frinds do thee embrace:
Let foes alone, obay thy masters mind,
For fear nor threat, hide not a fautlesse face.
Win courts good will, the countries loue is gaind,
With wise men stay, from froward wits beware:
At plow and cart, plaine speech is not disdaind:
Sit downe with those, that feeds on hungrie fare,
For they haue time, to note what thou dost saie,
Let gallants go, they will but giue a gibe:
Or take thee vp, and fling thee straight awaie,
Touch not smooth hands, that vse to take a bribe,
They better like, full bags than busie bookes,
Shun from the sight, of glorious peacocks proud:
Their onlie pomp, stands all on statelie lookes,
They glowm and skoull, as tweare a raynie cloud.
Giue babling toongs, good leaue to taunt and talke,
Their taste is gone, they oft take chese for chalke.
Bid scornfull heads, let true-plaint lines alone,
That harmles are, and came from lowlie hart:
Passe not in haste, to people strange vnknowne,
Least iudgment swift, do take on thee the start.
And run beyond, thy reach full many a skore,
Go slowlie foorth, with thanks come quickly howe:
Bring no rebuke, for that nips near and sore,
Twere better far, abroad thou shouldst not rome.
Though thou be blind, yet those that well can see,
If thou offend, will find great fault with mee.
Behaue thy selfe, as mildly as thou maist,
Like messenger, that doth his armd aright:
Thy master must, affirme each thing thou saist.
The darkest word, at length must come to light,
Like pilgrim go, and passe throw perils all,
Take well in worth, what hap doth thee befall.
Returne no more, to me till newes thou bring,
Of praise or thankes, or of some better thing:
If none of these, this waiward world will yeeld,
Trudge from fine towne, flie to the open feild,
Where thou must passe, through thickets full of thorns,
Where pricking briers, and croked brambles grose:
And neuer none, scapt free from scrath or scornes,
Or scratted hands, or tearing of his close.
Where eluish apes, and marmsets mockes and mose,
And thistles are, seen sooner than a rose.
Yea thou shalt come, where nettles are good store,
Whose angrie sting, will blisters raise apace,
Slip from those weedes, and come near them no more:
For fear vnwares, good words do get disgrace.
The goodlie floures, of court thou needs not feare,
For they are sweete, and meeke of nature throw,
There wisedome will, with writers humor beare:
If humbly stil, thou canst behaue thee now,
Thy masters pen, hath purchast fauour there,
Among the Dames, of faire Dianas traine,
Where beautie shines, like siluer drops of raine.
In sunnie day: O booke thou happy art
If with those Nimphes, thou maist be entertaind,
If any one, of them take in good part,
A verse or word, thou hast a garland gaind,
Of glorie great, for fame hir selfe must sound,
Out of their voice, looke what they do pronounce:
Like tennis ball, aloft it doth rebound,
And yeelds great weight, but not by dram nor ounce,
But heauie as, a massie pound of lead,
They wey mens worth, with praises quicke or dead.
Yea what they say, of Poets fond or wise,
Of prose or verse, that ripe inuenshon shoes:
As twere a lawe, the fame there of shall rise,
And through the world, like coin it currant goes.
From hand to hand, and so doth passage take,
Preasse thou to them, for they may mend my hap:
If that of thee, some good account they make,
And that in sport, they laie thee in their lap,
Vntill they list, to read thee eurie line,
Then at welhead, some water drawe I may:
For fountaine springs, may run cleere claret wine,
Whose pleasant sap, giues moisture eurie way.
The nimble Nimphs, that with Diana dwell,
Can quicklie turne, the cock and flowing spout:
That thousands shall, bring buckets to the well
And watch their times, till comfort commeth out.
Now booke trudge hence, bestow thy labour right
Set spurs to horse, that flies in aeir with wings
Mount ore the hils, and rest ne day nor night
Till thou do come, before great Queens and Kings
Then flat on face, fall prostrate at their feet
That may from graue, call vp thy masters spreet
Keepe thou these rules, this course and compasse hold
So may thy grace, conuert my lead to gold.