University of Virginia Library

Pretie pamphlets, by T. Proctor.

Proctors Precepts.

Leaue vading plumes, no more vaunt, gallant youth,
Thy masking weeds forsake, take collours sage:
Shun vicious steps, consider what ensueth,
Time lewdly spent, when on coms crooked age.
When beauty braue shall vade, as doth the flower,
When manly might, shall yeeld to auncient time:
When yonge delightes shall dye, and ages bower,
Shall lodge thy corps, bemoning idle prime.
Learne of the Ant, for stormy blastes to get
Prouision, least vntimely want do cum,
And mooues thee mone such time, so lewd neglect
From vertues lore, where worthy honors wun.
Thinke how vncertayne here, thou liust a guest,
Amid such vice, thats irksome to beholde:
Thinke whence thou camst, and where thy corps shall rest,
When breathing breath, shall leaue thy carkasse colde.
When dreadfull death, shall daunt thy hauty minde,
When fearfull flesh, shall shrowd in clammy clay:
When pamperd plumes shall vade, and dreads shall finde,
Deseruings due, for erring lewd astray.
Run not to rash, least triall make the mone,
In auncient yeres thy greene vnbridled time:
Olde Age is lothd, with folly ouer grown,
Yonge yeres dispisde, cut of in sprowting prime.
Experience learne, let elder lyues thee lead,
In lyuely yeres, thy fickle steps to guide:
Least vnawares, such vncoth paths thou tread,
Which filthy be thought, pleasant to be eyde.
In calmest Seas, the deepest Whorepooles bee,
In greenest Grasse, the lurking Adder lyes:
With eger sting, the sugerest sap wee see,
Smooth wordes deceiue, learne therfore to bee wise.

Inuidus alterius rebus macrescit opimis.

The greedy man, whose hart with hate doth swell,
Because hee sees his neyghbors good estate:
Liues vncontent, with what might serue him well,
And eftsoones seemes to blame sufficient fate:
This grudging gluton glut, with goulden gayne,
To serue his vse, although hee hath enough:
Repines at that, which others get with payne,
So that himselfe therby, hee doth abuse:
Hee thinkes that much, which passeth by his claw,
And findes a fault for it through luckles hap:
Although the matter valueth scarce a straw,
Hee deemes it small of gaine, that giues no sap.
Hee thinkes his store, shall serue his senclesse corse,
Or that no death at all, hee deemes there bee:
Els would hee to his conscience haue remorse,
And seeke to liue content with his degree:
For what auayles, to horde vp heapes of drosse,
Or seeke to please vnsaciate fond desire:
Considering that, tis subiect vnto losse,
And wee (therby yll got) deserues Hell fire:
From which O Lord conduct vs with thy hand,
And giue vs grace to liue vnto thy prayse:
Preserue our Queene his subiects and her land,
And graunt in peace, shee raigne here Nestors dayes.

The reward of Whoredome by the fall of Helen.

From Limbo Lake, where dismall feendes do lye,
Where Pluto raignes, perpend Helenas cry:
Where firy flames, where pittious howlings bee,
Where bodyes burne: from thence giue eare to mee.
I am Helena shee, for whose vilde filthy fact,
The stately Towers of Troy, the hauty Grecians sacte:
High Troy, whose pompe, throughout the world did sound,
In Cinders low, through mee was layd on ground.
Kinge Priamus through mee, did end his life:
And Troians all almost, I was the cause of strife.
I am that Dame, whose beauty passing braue,
Dame Venus praysde, the golden Pome to haue:
Whose feature forste, Sir Paris boyling brest,
To leaue his land, and seeke to be my guest.
That trull which tost, the surging Seas a maine,
From Grecian shoare, to Troy vnto my paine.
That flurt, whose gallant sproutinge prime,
Through vilde abuse, was scorcht ere auncient time:
I vertue shund, I lothd a modest mynde,
I wayd not fame, my beauty made mee blinde.
Each braue delight, my masking minde allurde,
My fancy deemed, my beauties gloze assurde:
Such worthy fame, did sound of Helens hue,
Although my deedes, reapt shame, and guerdon due.
In gorgious plumes, I maskt, puft vp with pride,
In braue delights I liu'd, my fancy was my guide:
But fie of filth, your world is all but vayne,
Your pomp cousumes, your deeds shall guerdon gaine:
See here by mee, whose beauty might haue boast,
For splendaut hue, throughout each forrain coast.
But what preuayles, to vaunt of beauties glose,
Or brag of pride, wheron dishonor growes:
If I had vsde my gifts in vertues lore,
And modest liud, my prayse had bin the more.
Where now too late, I lothe my life lewd spent,
And wish I had, with vertue bin content.

A Louers lyfe.

The tedious toyle, the cares which Louers taste,
The troubled thoughts, which moues their mindes to feare:
The pinching pangs, the dole which seemes to waste,
Their lothsome life, deepe plungd in gulfes of care:
Would mooue ech shun, such snares of vayne delight,
Which irksome be, though pleasant to the sight.
The minde full fraught, with care enioyes no ease,
A boyling brest, desires vnlawfull lust:
The hart would haue, what best the minde doth please,
And fancy craues, the thing which is vniust.
Beside eche frown, which eftsoones moues them deeme,
They abiect are, if sad their Louers seeme.
Or if occasion shun, their vsuall sight,
Not seene, they thinke themselues vnminded bee:
And then in dumps, as mazd they leaue delight,
And yeeld to greefe, till one, eche others see:
So that with feare, their mindes are alwayes fraught,
That liue in loue, experience some hath taught.
Eche lowring frown, from mirth doth moue the minde,
One iesting worde, procures a thousand woes:
So that lyke greefe or more, through sight they finde,
Then absence sure, such cares fro fancy flowes:
Such goring gripes, such heapes of hideous harmes,
Such sorowing sobs, from daunted louers swarmes.
Rosamond a spowsed Dame, her husbands death procurde,
For speaking but a worde in iest:
Itrascus too, full thyrty yeares indurde,
The panges of loue, within his boyling brest:
So that in greefe they harbor, still their mindes are cloyd with care,
They diue in dole, they plunge in payne, & liue in cruell feare.
And diuers moe, as Axeres whose beauty passing faire,
So Iphis hart, and boyling brest allurde:
That for her sake, hee liude in extreame care,
And cruell greefe, while breathing breath indurde:
But at the length, disdayne vpon a tree,
Hee honge himselfe, where shee his corps might see.

[A Louer approuing his Lady vnkinde.]

A gloze of fawning freendship.

Now cease to sing your Syren songes, I leaue ech braue delight
Attempt no more the wounded corps, which late felt fortunes spight:
But rather helpe to rue, with sorowing sobs come mone,
My lucklesse losse from wealth to woe, by fickle fortune throwne.
I once had freends good store, for loue, (no drosse I tryde)
For hauing lost my goods on Seas, my freends would not abide,
Yet hauing neede I went to one, of all I trusted moste:
To get releefe, hee answerd thus, go packe thou peuish poste.
His wordes did pearce my tender brest, and I as mazde did stand
Requesting him with pitteous plaints, to giue his helping hand:
Content thy selfe (quoth hee) to serue my owne estate,
I haue not I, yet am I greeu'd to see thy lucklesse fate.
Ah fie of fawning freends, whose eyes attentiue bee,
To watch and warde for lukers sake, with cap and bended knee:
Would God I had not knowne, their sweet and sugered speach,
Then had my greefe the lesser bin, experience mee doth teach.

A Maze of Maydens.

A short Epistle written in the behalfe of N.B. to M.H.

A vew of vayn glory.

What motion more, may mooue a man to minde
His owne estate, then proofe, whose dayes vnsure,
Accounted are vnto a puffe of winde,
A breathing blast, whose force can not endure:
Whose lyuely showes consumes, whose pompe decayes,
Whose glory dyes, whose pleasures soone be spent:
Whose stoutest strength, to weakenes subiect stayes,
Whose thoughts bee vaine, and vade as though vnment.
What haue wee then to vaunt, or glory in?
Sith all is vayne, wherin wee take delight:
Why should wee boast or brag, sith nought wee win
In fine, but death? to whom yeeldes euery wight.
To equall state, hee bringeth each degree,
Hee feareth none, all subiects yeeldes to death:
To dankish dust, hee driueth all wee see,
Which in the world, enioyeth any breath:
Why vaunt wee then, in that wee see is vayne,
Or take delight, in that wee proue but drosse?
Why glory wee, or seeke for golden gayne?
Sith at the length, wee reape therof but losse.
Wee lothe to leaue, our hutches filde with golde:
Our annual rents, it greeues vs to forgo,
Our buildings braue, which glads vs to beholde:
Our pleasant sport, it greeues vs to forgo.
Wee nothing brought, ne ought shall carry hence,
Lyfe lost, behinde goods, mony, land, wee leaue:
And naked shall returne, assured whence
Before wee came, when death doth life bereaue:
Liue then, to leaue thy life in euery hower,
Learne how to lead thy minde, from vayne desire,
Of filthy drosse, whose sugerest sweet is sower,
When dreadfull death, shall yeeld our earthly hire.
What is our world but vayne, fraught full of vice,
Wherin wee liue, allured by disceat:
Which vs in youth, to error doth entice,
And sturs vs vp, in flamed by follyes heat.
Our mindes are mooued, with euery fond desire,
Wee gloze in that, the which wee see vnsure:
Wee vsuall seeke great honor to aspire,
Whose greatest pompe, doth but a while endure:
For proofe the flower, bedect with gorgious hew,
As soone with heate, of scorching sun doth fade:
As doth the weede, the which vnseemly grew,
And showes it selfe, vncouerd with the shade.
The stately ship, which floates on foming fluds,
With waue is tost, as soone to surging Seas:
Doth yeeld his pompe, though fraught with store of goods,
As vessell weake, whose force the streame assayes:
Our selues may show, the state of eche degree,
As Sampson stout, whose force Philistians felt:
For wealth, let Diues, glut with golde our Mirror bee,
Marke Nemrods fall, whose hart with pride was swelt.
And diuers mo, whose preter pathes may learne,
Our future steps, our vayn vnsteady stay:
Whose elder lyues, already past may warne,
Us shun such snares, which leades vs to decay.

The fall of folly, exampled by needy Age.

A proper Sonet, how time consumeth all earthly thinges.

A Mirror of Mortallity.

Ssall clammy clay, shrowd such a gallant gloze,
Must beauty braue, be shrinde in dankish earth:
Shall crawling wormes, deuoure such liuely showes, of yong delights.
When valyant corps, shall yeeld the latter breath,
Shall pleasure vade, must puffing pride decay:
Shall flesh consume, must thought resigne to clay.
Shall haughty hart, haue hire to his desart,
Must deepe desire die, drenchd in direfull dread:
Shall deeds lewd dun, in fine reape bitter smart,
Must each vade, when life shall leaue vs dead:
Shall Lands remayne? must wealth be left behinde?
Is sence depriu'd? when flesh in earth is shrinde.
Seeke then to shun, the snares of vayne delight,
Which moues the minde, in youth from vertues lore:
Leaue of the vaunt of pride, and manly might,
Sith all must yeeld, when death the flesh shall gore:
And way these wordes, as soone for to be solde,
To Market cums, the yonge sheepe as the olde.
No trust in time, our dayes vncertayne bee,
Like as the flower, bedect with splendant hue:
Whose gallant show, soone dride with heat wee see,
Of scorching beames, though late it brauely grew:
Wee all must yeeld, the best shall not denye,
Unsure is death, yet certayn wee shall dye.
Although a while, we vaunt in youthful yeares,
In yonge delightes, wee seeme to liue at rest:
Wee subiect bee, to griefe eche horror feares,
The valiaunst harts, when death doth daunt the brest:
Then vse thy talent here vnto thee lent,
That thou mayst well account how it is spent.

A briefe dialogue between sicknesse and worldly desire.

Sicknesse.
To darkesome caue, where crawling wormes remayn,
Thou worldly wretch, resigne thy boasting breath:
Yeeld vp thy pompe, thy corps must passe agayn,
From whence it came, compeld by dreadfull death.

Worldly desire.
Oh sicknesse sore, thy paines doo pearce my hart,
Thou messenger of death, whose goryng gripes mee greue:
Permit a while, mee loth yet to depart
From freends and goods, which I behinde must leaue.

Sicknesse.
Ah silly soule, entis'de with worldly vayne,
As well as thou, thy freends must yeeld to death:
Though after thee, a while they doo remayne,
They shall not still, continue on the earth.

Worldly desire.
What must I then neede, shrine in gastly graue?
And leaue what long, I got with tedious toyle:
Prolong mee yet, and let mee licence haue,
Till elder yeeres, to put your Brutes to foyle.

Sicknesse.
O foolish man, allurde by lewd delight,
Thy labors lost, these goods they are not thine:
But as (thou hadst) so others haue like right,
(Of them) when thou, shalt vp thy breath resigne.

Worldly desire.
Then farewell world, the Nurse of wicked vice,
Adue vile drosse which mooues mens mindes to ill:
Farewell delights, which did my youth entice,
To serue as slaue, vnto vnsatiate will.

Aeger Diues habet Nummos, sed non habet ipsum.

Win fame, and keepe it.

Who sees the yll, and seekes to shun the same,
Shall doutlesse win at length immortal fame:
For wisdome, vice and vertue doth perceaue,
Shee vertue takes, but vice shee seekes to leaue.
A wise man knowes the state of each degree,
The good be praysde, the euill dishonord bee:
Hee sees the good, the euill hee doth espye,
Hee takes the good, the euill hee doth denye:
Hee folowes good, the euill hee dooth eschue,
Hee leapes the lake, when others stay to vew.
His honor stands, his fame doth euer last,
Upon the earth when breathing breath is past:
As Solomon whose wisdome recht vnto the lofty skye,
And Dauid King, theyr prayses liue (though bodies tombed lye)
They saw the good, the euill they did eschue,
Their honor liues, the proofe affirmes it true:
Then sithe examples playnly, showes the same,
Their prayses liue, who seekes to merit fame.

Respice finem.

Lo here the state of euery mortall wight,
See here, the fine, of all their gallant ioyes:
Beholde their pompe, their beauty and delight,
Wherof they vaunt, as safe from all annoyes:
To earth the stout, the prowd, the ritch shall yeeld,
The weake, the meeke, the poore, shall shrowded lye
In dampish mould, the stout with Speare and Sheeld
Cannot defend, himselfe when hee shal dye.
The prowdest wight, for all his lyuely showes,
Shall leaue his pompe, cut of by dreadfull death:
The ritch, whose Hutch, with golden Ruddocks flowes,
At lenght shall rest, vncoynd in dampish earth:
By Natures law, wee all are borne to dye,
But where or when, the best vncertayne bee:
No time prefixt, no goods our life shall buye,
Of dreadfull death, no freends shall set vs free.
Wee subiect bee, a thousand wayes to death,
Small sicknesse moues the valiaunts hart to feare:
A litle push bereaues your breathing breath,
Of braue delights, wherto you subiect are:
Your world is vayne, no trust in earth you finde,
Your valyaunst prime, is but a brytle glasse:
Your pleasures vade, your thoughts a puffe of winde,
Your auncient yeres, are but a withered grasse.

A briefe Caueat, to shun fawning friends.

Beauty is a pleasant pathe to distruction.

T. P. his Farewell vnto his faythfull and approoued freend. F. S.