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 | Triumphs over death |  |
To the Worshipful M. Richard Sackuile, Edward Sackuile Cicilie Sackuile and Anne Sackuile, the hopeful issue of the honourable Gentleman maister Robert Sackuile Esquire.
Most
lines do not the best conceit containe,
Few wordes well coucht may comprehend much matter:
Then, as to vse the first is counted vaine,
So is't praise-worthy to conceit the latter,
The grauest wittes that most graue workes expect,
The qualitie, not quantitie respect.
Few wordes well coucht may comprehend much matter:
Then, as to vse the first is counted vaine,
So is't praise-worthy to conceit the latter,
The grauest wittes that most graue workes expect,
The qualitie, not quantitie respect.
The smallest sparke will cast a burning heat:
Base cottages may harbour things of woorth,
Then though this Volume be, nor gay, nor great,
Vnder your protection I set foorth,
Do not with coy disdainefull ouersight
Deny to reade this well meant orphanes mite.
Base cottages may harbour things of woorth,
Then though this Volume be, nor gay, nor great,
Vnder your protection I set foorth,
Do not with coy disdainefull ouersight
Deny to reade this well meant orphanes mite.
And since his father in his infancie
Prouided patrons to protect his heire,
But now by death none sparing crueltie
Is turnd an orphane to the open aire:
I his vnworthy foster-sire haue darde,
To make you patronizers of this warde.
Prouided patrons to protect his heire,
But now by death none sparing crueltie
Is turnd an orphane to the open aire:
I his vnworthy foster-sire haue darde,
To make you patronizers of this warde.
The Epistle Dedicatorie.
You glorieng issues of that glorious dame,
Whose life is made the subiect of deaths will,
To you succeeding hopes of mothers fame,
I dedicate this fruit of Southwels quill:
He for your Vncles comfort first it writ,
I for your consolation print and send you it.
Whose life is made the subiect of deaths will,
To you succeeding hopes of mothers fame,
I dedicate this fruit of Southwels quill:
He for your Vncles comfort first it writ,
I for your consolation print and send you it.
Then daine in kindnesse to accept the worke,
Which he in kindnesse writ, I send to you,
The which till now clouded, obscure did lurke:
But now opposed to ech Readers view,
May yeelde commodious fruit to euery wight
That feeles his conscience prickt by Parcaes spight.
Which he in kindnesse writ, I send to you,
The which till now clouded, obscure did lurke:
But now opposed to ech Readers view,
May yeelde commodious fruit to euery wight
That feeles his conscience prickt by Parcaes spight.
But if in aught I haue presumptuous beene,
My pardon-crauing pen implores your fauour:
If any fault in print be past; vnseene
To let it passe, the Printer is the crauer,
So shall he thanke you, and I by duety bound,
Pray, that in you may all good gifts abound.
My pardon-crauing pen implores your fauour:
If any fault in print be past; vnseene
To let it passe, the Printer is the crauer,
So shall he thanke you, and I by duety bound,
Pray, that in you may all good gifts abound.
Your Worships humbly deuoted, Iohn Trussell.
[Reade with regarde, what here with due regarde]
Reade with regarde, what here with due regarde,
Our second Ciceronian Southwell sent,
By whose perswasiue pithy argument,
Ech well disposed eie may be preparde,
Respectiuely their griefe for friends decease
To moderate without all vaine excesse.
Our second Ciceronian Southwell sent,
By whose perswasiue pithy argument,
Ech well disposed eie may be preparde,
Respectiuely their griefe for friends decease
To moderate without all vaine excesse.
Sith then the worke is worthie of your view,
Obtract not him which for your good it pend:
Vnkinde you are if you it reprehend,
That for your profit is presented you,
He pend, I publish this to pleasure all,
Esteeme of both then as we merite shall:
Wey his workes woorth, accept of my goodwill,
Else is his labour lost, mine crost, both to no end:
Lest then you ill deserue what both intend,
Let my goodwill all small defects fulfill:
He here his talent trebled doth present,
I, my poore mite, yet both with good intent,
Then take them kindly both, as we them ment.
Obtract not him which for your good it pend:
Vnkinde you are if you it reprehend,
That for your profit is presented you,
He pend, I publish this to pleasure all,
Esteeme of both then as we merite shall:
Wey his workes woorth, accept of my goodwill,
Else is his labour lost, mine crost, both to no end:
Lest then you ill deserue what both intend,
Let my goodwill all small defects fulfill:
He here his talent trebled doth present,
I, my poore mite, yet both with good intent,
Then take them kindly both, as we them ment.
Iohn Trussell.
To the Reader.
Chancing to finde with Esopes Cocke a stone,
Whose worth was more than I knew how to prise:
And knowing, if it should be kept vnknowne,
T'would many skathe, and pleasure few or none,
I thought it best the same in publike wise
In Print to publish, that impartiall eies
Might, reading iudge, and iudging, praise the wight
The which this Triumph ouer Death did write.
Whose worth was more than I knew how to prise:
And knowing, if it should be kept vnknowne,
T'would many skathe, and pleasure few or none,
I thought it best the same in publike wise
In Print to publish, that impartiall eies
Might, reading iudge, and iudging, praise the wight
The which this Triumph ouer Death did write.
And though the same he did at first compose
For ones peculiar consolation,
Yet will it be commodions vnto those,
Which for some friends losse, prooue their owne selfe-foes:
And by extremitie of exclamation,
And their continuate lamentation
Seeme to forget, that they at length must tread
The selfe same path which they did that are dead.
For ones peculiar consolation,
Yet will it be commodions vnto those,
Which for some friends losse, prooue their owne selfe-foes:
And by extremitie of exclamation,
And their continuate lamentation
Seeme to forget, that they at length must tread
The selfe same path which they did that are dead.
But those as yet whome no friends death doth crosse,
May by example guide their actions so,
That when a tempest comes their Barke to tosse,
Their passions shall not superate their losse:
And eke this Treatise doth ech Reader show,
That we our breath, to Death by duetie owe,
And thereby prooues, much teares are spent in vaine,
When teares can not recall the dead againe.
May by example guide their actions so,
That when a tempest comes their Barke to tosse,
Their passions shall not superate their losse:
And eke this Treatise doth ech Reader show,
That we our breath, to Death by duetie owe,
And thereby prooues, much teares are spent in vaine,
When teares can not recall the dead againe.
Yet if perhappes our late sprung sectaries,
Or for a fashion Bible-bearing hypocrites,
Whose hollow hearts doe seeme most holy wise,
Do for the Authors sake the worke despise,
I wish them weigh the words, and not who writes:
But they that leaue what most the soule delights,
Because the Preachers, no Precisian sure,
To reade what Southwell writ will not endure.
Or for a fashion Bible-bearing hypocrites,
Whose hollow hearts doe seeme most holy wise,
Do for the Authors sake the worke despise,
I wish them weigh the words, and not who writes:
But they that leaue what most the soule delights,
Because the Preachers, no Precisian sure,
To reade what Southwell writ will not endure.
But leauing them, since no perswades suffice
To cause them reade, except the spirit moue,
I wish all other reade, but none despise
This little Treatise: but if Momus eies
Espie Deaths triumph, it doth him behoue,
The writer, worke, or me for to reproue:
But let his pitcht speecht mouth defile but one,
Let that be me, let tother two alone:
For if offence in either merit blame,
The fault is mine, and let me reape the shame.
To cause them reade, except the spirit moue,
I wish all other reade, but none despise
This little Treatise: but if Momus eies
Espie Deaths triumph, it doth him behoue,
The writer, worke, or me for to reproue:
But let his pitcht speecht mouth defile but one,
Let that be me, let tother two alone:
For if offence in either merit blame,
The fault is mine, and let me reape the shame.
Iohn Trussell.
| Triumphs over death | |