University of Virginia Library

To the rayling Route of Sycophants.

In prayse of the Renowmed Ladie Anne, Ladie Cowntesse Warwicke.

The Argument to the whole discourse and Treatise following

To a late acquainted Friende.

If Vulcan durst presume
that was a Gnuffe to see,
And strake with Hammer on the Stithe
a cunning Smith to bee,
Whose chiefe and whole delight
was aye to frie at Forge,
And listen to that melodie
Smithes sorrowes to disgorge:
If Vulcan durst (I saye)
Dame Venus to assaile
That was the worthyste Wight of all,
if witnesse may preuaile:
Then may you muse the lesse,
though fansie force me wright
To you a second Venus (Friende)
and Helen in my sight.
For what he saw in hir
a Goddesse by hir kinde,
That I in you (my chosen Friende)
and somewhat else doe finde.
And as that sielie Smith
by Cupid was procurde
To fawne on hir, to whome in fine
hee firmely was assurde:
So by none other meanes
my Senses are in thrall,
But by procurement of the God
that conquers Gods and all.
Tis hee that makes mee bolde,
tis hee that willes me sue
To thee (my late acquainted Friende)
loues torment to eschue.
Not too this day was seene
that any durst rebell
Or kicke at Cupid Prince of Loue,
as learned Poets tell:
But rather would with free
and vncoacted minde
Applie to please in any case
what so the God assignde.
What neede I here displaye
the spoyles by Cupid wonne?
Not I, but you (my Friende) woulde faint
ere halfe the tale were donne.
His Banner doth declare
what harts haue beene subdude:
Where they are all in Sabels set
with blood and gore imbrude.
Not mightie Mars alone,
nor Hercules the stoute:
But other Gods of greater state,
there standing in a route.
There may you plainely see
how Ioue was once a Swanne,
To lure faire Leda to his lust
when raging Loue beganne.
Some other when a Bull,
some other time a showre
Of golden drops: as when he coyde
the closed Nunne in towre.
Appollos Loue appeares
and euer will be knowne,
As long as Lawrell leaues shall last,
and Daphnes brute be blowne.
May brainsick Bacchus brag
or boast himselfe as free?
Not I, but Aryadnas Crowne
shewes him in loue to bee.
Since these and other mo
that Gods were made by kinde
Might not auoyde that guilefull God
that winged is and blinde:
Should I haue hope to scape
by force, or else by flight,
That in respect of those his thralls
am of so slender might?
As they did yeelde to Loue
for feare of Cupids yre:
Euen so am I become his thrall
by force of flaming fyre.
What time I first displayde
mine eies vpon thy face,
(That doth allure eche lookers hart)
I did the P. imbrace.
And since that time I feele
within my breast such ioye,
As Paris neuer felt the like
when Helen was at Troye.
How coulde so barraine soyle
bring forth so good a Graffe,
To whome the reast that seeme good Corne
are in respect but Chaffe?
(O God) that Cupid woulde
vpon thy breast bestowe
His golden shaft, that thou the force
of lyking loue mightst knowe.
Then should I stande in hope
and well assured bee,
That thou wouldst be as friendly (P.)
as I am now to thee.
Whome (till thy friendship fayle,
and plighted Hest doe swerue)
I vaunt and vowe by mightie Ioue
with hart and hande to serue.
My Senses all take heede,
and yee my wits beware
That you attentiue be on hir
and for none other care.
You eies that woonted were
light louing lookes to cast,
I giue commaundment on hir hue
that yee be ankred fast.
Mine eares admit no sounde
ne Womans woords at all:
Be shut against such Syrens Songs
repleate with lurking gall.
Tongue see that thou be tyde,
and vse no wanton stile:
By lawe of Loue I thee coniure
such toyes to exile.
Legges looke that yee be lame
when you should reache a place
To take the vewe of Venus Nymphes
Pees beautie to deface.
For such a one is shee
whome I would will you serue,
As to be plaste for Pallas peere
for wisedome may deserue.
So constant are hir lookes
and eake as chaste a face:
As if that Lucrece liuing were
shee Lucrece would disgrace.
So modest is hir mirth
in erie time and tyde,
As they that prick most nearste of all
their shiuerde shafts are wyde.
Pause Pen a while therefore,
and vse thy woonted meane:
For Boccas braine, and Chaucers Quill
in this were foyled cleane.
Of both might neither boast
if they did liue againe:
For P. would put them to their shifts
to Pen hir vertues plaine.
Yet one thing will I vaunt
and after make an ende,
That Momus can not for his lyfe
deuise one iote to mende.
Thus to conclude at length,
see thou (my Friend) pervse
This slender Uerse, till leysure serue
abrode to bring my Muse.
For then you shall perceiue
by that which you shall see,
That you haue made your choise as well
as I by choosing P.

The Louer extolleth the singular beautie of his Ladie.

The Louer declareth how first he was taken and enamoured by the sight of his Ladie.

I hauing neuer earst
the craft of Cupid tride,
Ne yet the wylie wanton wayes
of Ladie Venus spide,
But spent my time in sporte
as youth is woont by kinde,
Not forcing fansies pinching powre
that other Wights did blinde:
By fortune founde a face
that lykte my hart so well,
As by the sodaine vewe thereof
to fansies frame I fell.
No sooner had mine eies
vpon hir beautie stayde,
But Wit and Will without respect
were altogither wayde.
Unwarely so was none
in such a snare before:
The more I gazde vpon hir face,
I lykte my Loue the more.
Forthwith I thought my hart
out of his roome was rapt:
And wits (that woonted were to wayte
on Reason) were intrapt,
Downe by mine eies the stroke
descended to the hart:
Which Cupid neuer crazde before
by force of golden dart.
My bloud that thought it bounde
his Maisters part to take,
No longer durst abide abroade,
but outwarde limmes forsake.
Which hauing beene in breast
and frostie colde dismayde:
It hasted from the hart againe
externall partes to ayde.
And brought with it such heate
as did enflame the face,
Distayning it with Scarlet redde
by rashnesse of the race.
And since that time I feele
such pangues and inwarde fits,
As now with hope, and then with feare
encombred are my wits.
Thus must I Miser liue
till shee by friendly ruth
Doe pittie mee hir louing Thrall
whose deedes shall trie his truth.
Thrise luckie was the day,
thrise happie eake the place,
And yee (mine eies) thrise blessed were
that lighted on hir face.
If I in fine may force
hir pittie by my plaint:
I shall in cunningst verse I may
hir worthie prayse depaint.
There is one thing makes me ioy
and bids me think the best:
That cruell rigor can not lodge
where beautie is possest.
And sure vnlesse she salue
and heale this cankred wounde
By yeelding grace, it must in time
of force my corps confounde.
For long it may not last
that in such anguish lies:
Extreames in no case can endure
as Sages did deuise.
No Tyger gaue hir Teate,
she is no Lyons whelpe:
Ne was she bred of cruell rocks,
nor will renounce to helpe
Such as she paines with loue,
and doth procure to wo:
She is not of the Currish kinde,
hir nature is not so.

Maister Googe his Sonet of the paines of Loue.

Twoo lynes shall tell the griefe
that I by Loue sustaine:
I burne, I flame, I faint, I freeze,
of Hell I feele the paine.

Turberuiles aunswere and distick to the same.

Twoo lynes shall teach you how
to purchase ease anewe:
Let Reason rule where Loue did raigne,
and ydle thoughts eschewe.

An Epitaphe on the death of Dame Elyzabeth Arhundle.

To Piero of Pride.

Friend Piero, Pride infects a friendly minde,
The haughtie are pursude with deadly hate:
Wherfore eschue the proude & Peacocks kinde,
That greedie are to sit on stoole of state:
The lowly hart doth winne the loue of all,
But Pride at last is sure of shamefull fall.

Piero to Turberuile.

Good is the counsell (Turberuile) you giue,
It is a vertue rare well to aduise,
But if your selfe in Peacoks sort doe liue
Men deemen may you are not perfite wise:
Whose chiefest point in act consisteth aye,
Well doing farre excelleth well to saye.

Verse in prayse of Lorde Henrye Howarde Earle of Surrey.

What should I speake in prayse of Surreys skill
Unlesse I had a thousand tongues at will?
No one is able to depaint at full,
The flowing fountaine of his sacred Skull.
Whose Pen approoude what wit he had in mue
Where such a skill in making Sonets grue.
Eche worde in place with such a sleight is coucht,
Eche thing whereof he treates so firmely toucht,
As Pallas seemde within his Noble breast
To haue soiournde, and beene a daylie guest.
Our mother tongue by him hath got such light,
As ruder speach thereby is banisht quight:
Reproue him not for fansies that he wrought,
For Fame thereby and nothing else he sought.
What though his verse wt pleasāt toyes are fright?
Yet was his honours life a Lampe of light.
A Mirrour he the simple sort to traine,
That euer beate his brayne for Britans gaine.
By him the Nobles had their vertues blazde,
When spitefull death their honors liues had razde.
Eche that in life had well deserued aught,
By Surreys meanes an endles fame hath caught.
To quite his boone and aye well meaning minde,
Whereby he did his Sequell seeme to binde:
Though want of skill to silence me procures,
I write of him whose fame for aye endures,
A worthie Wight, a Noble for his race,
A learned Lorde that had an Earles place.

Of Ialousie.

A straunge disease, a griefe exceeding great,
A man to haue his hart in flame inrolde,
In sort that he can neuer choose but sweate,
And feele his feete benumde with frosty colde.
No doubt if he continue in this heate,
He will become a Cooke hereafter olde,
Of such diseases such is the effect,
And this in him we may full well suspect.

To his Ladie, that by hap when he kissed hir and made hir lip bleed, controld him and tooke disdaine.

Discharge thy dole,
Thou subtile soule,
It standes in little steede
To cursse the kisse
That causer is
Thy chirrie lip doth bleede.
Thy bloud ascends
To make amends
For domage thou hast donne:
For by the same
I felt a flame
More scorching than the Sunne.
Thou reftst my harte
By secret Arte,
My sprites were quite subdude:
My Senses fled
And I was ded,
Thy lippes were scarce imbrude.
The kisse was thine,
The hurt was mine,
My hart felt all the paine:
Twas it that bled
And lookte so red,
I tell thee once againe.
But if you long
To wreake your wrong
Upon your friendly fo:
Come kisse againe
And put to paine
The man that hurt you so.

Mayster Googe his Sonet.

Accuse not God if fansie fonde
doe mooue thy foolish braine
To wayle for loue, for thou thy selfe
art cause of all the paine.

Turberuiles aunswere.

Not God (friend Googe) ye Louer blames
as worker of his woes:
But Cupid that his fierie flames
so frantickly bestowes.

A comparison of the Louers estate with the Souldiars painefull lyfe.

If Souldiers may for seruice done,
and labours long sustainde,
For wearie watch, and perils past,
and armes with armour painde:
For push of Pike, for Holbers stroke,
for standing in the frunt,
If they expect rewarde (I say)
for byding battayles brunt:
Then what shall Cupids Captaines craue,
what recompence desire,
That warde the day, and wake the night
consumde with fretting fire?
No roome of rest, no time of truce,
no pleading for a peace:
When Cupid sounds his warlike Trumpe,
the fight will neuer cease.
First shall you see the shiuering shafts
and vewe the thirled darts
Which from their eies they cast by course
to pierce their enmies harts.
But if the Foe doe stande aloofe,
(as is the Louers guise)
Then Canons with their cruell cracks
as thick as thunder flies.
Sweete wordes in place of powder stande
by force which think to win,
That louing lookes of late had lost
when fight did first begin.
But on the breast to beare the brunt
and keepe them from the hart,
A sure and priuie cote is worne
repelling pellats smart.
They stop their eares against the sound,
which is the surest shielde
Against the dreadfull shot of wordes
that thousandes had beguilde.
But when Cupidians flatly see
nor gunne, nor Bowe preuaile,
They then begin their friendly foes
with other fight tassaile.
Then set the daskardes dreade aside,
and to the walles they run,
As though they woulde subdue the Forte
or ere the fight begun.
Forthwith the scaling Ladders come,
and to the walles are set,
Then sighes and sobs begin to clime,
but they are quickly met.
Thus Cupid and his Souldiers all
the sharpe repulse sustaine:
Whome Beauty batters from the walles
whose Captaine is Disdaine.
When all are gone and yeeld it lost,
comes Hope and whote Desire,
To see where they can haue the hap
to set the Forte afire.
But nought preuailes their lingring fight,
they can not Beautie win:
Yet doe they skirmish still behinde
in hope to enter in.
At length when Beautie doth perceyue
those Souldiers are so true,
That they will neuer from the walles
till they the holde subdue:
She calles to Pittie for the keyes
and bids hir let them in:
In hope they will be true to hir
as they to Loue had bin.
The gates no sooner are vnlockt,
but souldiers all retire:
And enter into Beauties Forte
with Hope and hote Desire.
Now iudge by this that I haue saide
of these two fightes aright,
Which is the greatest toyle of both
when warlike Tents are pight.
For Mars his men sometime haue ease,
and from their battaile blin:
But Cupids souldiers euer serue
till they Dame Beautie win.

The Louer against one that compared his Mistresse with his Ladie.

A madnesse to compare
the Pipler with the Pine,
Whereof the Mariner makes his Mast,
and hanges it all with line.
A follie to preferre
a Lampe before the Sunne,
Or brag that Balams lumpish Asse
with Bucephall shall runne.
Then cease for shame to vaunt,
and crowe in craking wise
Of hir that least deserues to haue
hir beauties fame arise.
Thou foolish Dame beware
of haughtie Peacocks pride:
The fruite thereof in former age
hath sundrie times bene tride.
Arachne can expresse
how angrie Pallas was,
When shee in needle worke would seeme
the Heauenly Wight to passe.
The Spider shewes the spite
that shee (good wench) abid,
In token of hir pride shee hanges
at roufe by rotten thrid.
No foode shee hath allowde
lesse Fortune sende the Flie:
The Cobwed is hir costly Couch
appointed hir to lie.
With venim ranck and vile
hir wombe is like to burst,
A token of hir inwarde hate
and hawtie minde at furst.
And thou that surely thinkst
thy Ladie to excell,
Example take of others harme
for iudgement that befell:
When Pan the Pastors prince,
and Rex of Rustick route,
To passe Apollo in his play
and Musick went aboute:
Mount Tmolus was the Iudge
that there the roome possest,
To giue his verdite for them both
which vttered Musick best.
First came the Rustick forth
with Pipe and puffed bag,
That made his eies to run like streames,
and both his lips to wag.
The noyse was somewhat rude
and ragged to the eare:
The simplest man aliue would gesse
that pieuish Pan was there.
Then Phœbus framde his frets,
and wrested all his pinnes,
And on his curious strings to strike
the skilfull God beginnes.
So passing was his play
as made the trees to daunce,
And stubborne Rocks in deepest vales
for gladsome ioy to praunce.
Amphyon blusht as red
as any glowing flame:
And Orpheus durst not shew his face,
but hide his head for shame.
Ynough quoth Tmolus tho,
my iudgement is that Pan
May pipe among the ruder sort
that little Musick can.
Apollos playe doth passe
of all that ere I hearde:
Wherefore (as reason is) of mee
the Luter is preferde.
Meanewhile was Mydas prest,
not pointed Iudge in place:
But (lyke a dolt that went about
Apollo to deface)
Tushe Tmolus, tushe quoth hee,
Pan hath the better skill:
For hee the emptie bagge with winde
and strouting blast doth fill.
Apollo wagges his ioints
and makes a iarring sounde:
Lyke pleasure is not in the Lute
as in the Bagpipe founde.
No sooner had hee spoke
those witlesse wordes and sed,
But Phœbus graft on Asses eares
vpon his beastly hed.
In proofe of iudgement wrong
that Mydas did maintaine,
Hee had a paire of sowsing eares
to shilde him from the raine.
Wherefore (my Friende) take heede
of afterclaps that fall:
And deeme not hir a Dearling that
deserues no prayse at all.
Your iudgement is beguilde,
your Senses suffer shame:
That so doe seeke to blaze hir armes,
and to aduaunce hir fame.
Let hir go hide hir head
in lothsome lurking mue,
For crabbed Crowfoote marres hir face
and quite distaines hir hue.

The Louer to a Gentlewoman, that after great friendship without desart or cause of mislyking refused him.

Haue you not heard it long ago
of cunning Fawkners tolde,
That Haukes which loue their keepers call
are woorth their weight in Golde?
And such as knowe the luring voice
of him that feedes them still:
And neuer rangle farre abroade
against the keepers will,
Doe farre exceede the haggarde Hauke
that stoopeth to no stale:
Nor forceth on the Lure awhit,
but mounts with euery gale?
Yes, yes, I know you know it well,
and I by proufe haue tride,
That wylde and haggard Hawkes are worse
than such as will abide.
Yet is there eke another kinde,
farre worser than the rest:
And those are they that flie at check,
and stoupe to erie gest.
They leaue the lawe that nature taught
and shun their woonted kinde,
In fleeing after erie Foule
that mounteth with the winde.
You know what I doe meane by this,
if not, giue eare a while:
And I shall shewe you my conceyte
in plaine and simple stile.
You were sometime a gentle Hawke,
and woont to feede on fist:
And knew my luring voice right well
and would repaire at list.
I could no sooner make a beck
or token with my hand,
But you would quickly iudge my will
and how the case did stand.
But now you are become so wylde
and rammage to be seene,
As though you were a haggard Hawke,
your maners altred cleene.
You now refuse to come to fist,
you shun my woonted call:
My luring lyketh not your eare,
you force mee not at all.
You flee with wings of often chaunge
at random where you please:
But that in time will breede in you
some fowle and fell disease.
Liue like a haggard still therefore,
and for no luring care:
For best (I see) contents thy minde
at wishe and will to fare.
So some perhaps will liue in hope
at length to light on thee,
That earst reclaimde so gentle werte
and louing birde to mee,
But if thou chaunce to fall to check,
and force on erie fowle,
Thou shalt be worse detested then,
than is the nightish Owle.
This counsell take of him that once
did keepe thee at his beck:
But now giues vp in open field
for feare of filthie check.

The Louer obtayning his wishe by all likelyhode, yet not able to attaine his desire, compares himself to Tantalus.

Of Tantalus plight
The Poets wright,
Complayning
And fayning
In sorowfull sownding songes:
Who feeles (they saye)
For Apples gaye
Such payning,
Not gayning
The fruite for which hee longes:
For when hee thinkes to feede therone,
The fickle flattring Tree is gone:
And all in vaine hee hopes to haue
his famine to expell
The flitting fruite that lookes so braue
and likes his eie so well:
And thus his hunger doth increase,
And hee can neuer finde release.
As want of Meate
Doth make him freate
With raging,
And gaging,
To catch the fruite that flees:
Euen so for drythe
The Miser crythe,
Not swaging,
But waging,
For licour that hee sees:
For to his painefull partched mouth
The long desired water flouth,
And when he gapes full greedilie
vnthriftie thirst to slake,
The riuer wasteth speedilie,
and awaywarde goes the Lake:
That all the licour from his lips
And dryed chaps away it slips.
This kinde of paine
Doth he sustaine,
Not ceasing,
Increasing,
His pittifull pining wo:
In plenties place,
Deuoide of grace,
Releasing,
Or ceassing
The pangs that pinch him so:
Of all the fretting fits of Hell
This Tantals torment is most fell:
For that the reast can haue no hope
their freedome to attaine,
And he hath graunted him such scope
as makes the Myser faine:
But all for nought in fine it serues,
For he with dryth and hunger sterues.
Euen so fare I
That am as nie
My pleasure,
My treasure,
As I might wish to bee:
And haue at will
My Ladie still
At leasure,
In measure,
As well it liketh mee.
The amorous blincks flee to and fro,
With sugred words that make a show
That fansie is well pleasde withall
and findes it selfe content:
Eche other friendly friend doth call
and eche of vs consent:
And thus we seeme for to possesse
Eche others hart and haue redresse.
We coll, we clip,
We kisse with lip,
Delighted,
Requighted,
And merily spend the day:
The tales I tell
Are fanside well,
Recited,
Not spited,
Thus weares the time away.
Looke what I like shee doth imbrace,
Shee giues good eare vnto my case
And yeeldes mee lawfull libertie
to frame my dolorus plaint,
To quite hir Friend from ieopardie
whome Cupid hath attaint:
Respecting nought at all his welth
But seeking meane to worke his helth.
I seeme to haue
The thing I craue,
Shee barres not,
Shee iarres not,
But with a verie good will
Shee heares my sute,
And for the frute
Shee warres not,
But dares not
To let me feede my fill.
Shee would (I know) with hart agree,
The fault is neyther in hir nor mee,
I dare auowe full willinglie
shee would consent thereto,
And gladly would mee remedie
too banish away my wo:
Lo thus my wish I doe possesse,
And am a Tantal naythelesse.
For though I stande
And touch with hande
Allured,
Procured,
The Saint I doe desire:
And may be bolde
For to enfolde,
Assured,
Indured,
The Corps that I require:
Yet by no meanes may I attaine
To haue the fruite I would so faine
To rid mee from extremitie
and cruell oppressing care,
Euen thus with Tantals penaltie
my destnie may compare:
Who though endure excessiue paine,
Yet mine is not the least of twaine.

The Louer to the Thems of London to fauor his Ladie passing thereon.

To his Ring giuen to his Ladie, wherein was grauen this Verse.

My hart is yours.

Though thou (my Ring) be small,
and slender be thy price:
Yet hast thou in thy compasse coucht
a Louers true deuice.
And though no Rubie red,
ne Turkesse trim thy top,
Nor other Iuell that commends
the golden Vulcans shop:
Yet mayst thou boldlye vaunt
and make a true report
For mee that am thy Mayster yet
in such a semblant sort,
That aye (my hart is hirs)
of thee I aske no more:
My Pen and I will shew the reast,
which yet I keepe in store.
Be mindefull of thy charge,
and of thy Maysters case:
Forget not that (my hart is hirs)
though I be not in place.
When thou hast tolde thy tale
which is but short and sweete:
Then let my Loue coniect the reast
till she and I doe meete.
For as (my hart is hirs)
so shall it be for aye:
My hart, my hand, my lyfe, my limmes
are hirs till dying daye.
Yea when the spirite giues vp
and bodie breathes his last,
Say naythelesse (my hart is hirs)
when life and all is past.
Sit fast to hir finger,
But doe thou not wring her.

The dispairing Louer craues eyther mercie in time at his Ladies hands, or cruell death.

Like as the fearefull Foule
within the Fawcons foote
Doth yeelde himselfe to die,
and sees none other boote:
Euen so dread I (my Deare)
least ruth in thee will want,
To mee that am thy thrall,
who fearing death doe pant.
So fast I am in Gyue
within your beauties Gayle,
As thence to make a breach
no engin may preuaile.
The hart within my breast
with trembling feare doth quake:
And saue your loue (my Deare)
nought can my torment slake.
To slea a yeelding pray
I iudge it not your kinde:
Your beautie bids mee hope
more ruth in you to finde.
Where Nature hath yformde
such featurde shape to showe,
There hath she closde in breast
a hart for grace to growe.
Wherefore my lingring paines
redresse with ruthfull hart:
And doe in time become
Phisition to my smart.
Oh showe thy selfe a friende
and Natures Impe to bee,
As thou a Woman art by kinde
to womans kinde agree.
But if you can not finde
in hart my lyfe to saue,
But that you long to see
your thrall lye deade in graue:
Sende mee the fatall toole,
and cruell cutting knife:
And thou shalt see me rid
my wretched limmes of life.
No lesse to like thy minde
than to abridge my smart:
Which were an yll rewarde
for such a good desart.
Of both I count it least
by cursed death to fall,
Than ruthlesse here to liue
and aye to be a thrall.

To his Friende to be constant after choise made.

What made Vlysses Wife
to be renowmed so?
What forced Fame hir endlesse brute
in blasting trumpe to blow?
What Cleopatra causde
to haue immortall prayse?
What did procure Lucrecias laude
to lasten to our dayes?
Cause they their plighted hestes
vnbroken aye reserude:
And planted Constance in their harts
from whome they neuer swerude.
What makes the Marble stone
and Diamond so deare?
Saue that the longest last of all,
and alwayes one appeare?
What makes the waxen forme
to be of slender price?
But cause with force of fire it melts
and wasteth with a trice.
Then if thou long for prayse
or blasted Fame to finde,
(My Friend) thou must not chaunge thy choyce
or turne lyke Cock with winde.
Be constant in thy worde
and stable in thy deede:
This is the readiest way to win
and purchase prayse with speede.

Counsell returned by Pyndara to Tymetes, of constancie.

What made the Troyan Duke
that wandring Prince to haue
Such yll report, and foule defame
as him Carthago gaue?
What faythlesse Iason forcde
a Traytors name to gaine?
When he to Colchos came, and did
the golden Fleese attaine?
What Theseus causde to bee
reported of so yll,
As yet record thereof remaynes
(I think) and euer wyll?
Cause they their faithfull Friendes
that saude their doubtfull lyues
Forsooke at last, and did disdaine
to take them to their wyues.
They brake their vowed hestes,
by ship away they went:
And so betrayde those siely soules
that craft nor falsehood ment.
Wherefore if you (my Friend)
the like report will flee
Stand euer to the promise made,
and plighted troth to mee.
Those Dames of whome you spake
were constant (as you say)
But sure these Louers I alleage
vnfaithfull parts did play.
More cause haue I to doubt
of you (Tymetes) then,
For (as you see) we Women are
more trustie than you men.

The Louers must not dispaire though their Ladies seeme straunge.

Though Neptune in his rage
the swelling Seas doe tosse,
And crack the Cables in dispite
to further shipmens losse:
Though Ancker holde doe fayle,
and Mysson go to wrack,
Though Sayles with blustring blast be rent,
and Keale begin to crack:
Yet those that are a boorde
and guide the ship with steare,
Although they see such daungers prest
and perils to appeare:
Yet hope to light at last
vpon some harbour holde,
And finde a Porte where they to cast
their Anckers may be bolde.
Though Theeues be kept in Gayle
fast bound in surest Gyues,
They lay not all good hope aside
for sauing of their lyues.
They trust at length to see
such mercie in the Iudge,
As they in open presence quit
may from the prison trudge,
And those for greedie gaine
and hope of hidden Golde
In deepest Mynes and Dungeon darck
that byde the bitter colde:
In fine doe looke to light
vpon some Golden vaine,
Which may be thought a recompence
for all their passed paine.
The Ploughman eke that toyles
and turnes the ground for graine,
And sowes his seede (perhaps to losse)
yet standes in hope of gaine.
He will not once dispaire,
but hope till Haruest fall:
And then will looke assuredly
to stuffe his Barnes withall.
Since these in perils point
will neuer once dispaire,
Then why should Louers stand in dread
of stormes in weather faire?
Why should they haue mistrust
some better hap to finde,
Or think that Women will not chaunge
as is their woonted kinde?
Though straunge they seeme a while
and cruell for a space:
Yet see thou hope at length by hap
to finde some better grace.
For Tygers will be tame,
and Lyons that were woode,
In time their keepers learne to knowe
and come to them for foode.
What though they scorne as now
to listen to thy sute?
Yet thou in time when fortune serues
shalt reape some better frute.
And though thy sighes they scorne
and mock thy welling teares:
Yet hope (I say) for after stormes
the shining Sunne appeares.
And neuer cease to sue,
nor from lamenting stint:
For often drops of falling raine
in time doe pierce the Flint.
Was neuer stone so strong
nor womans hart so harde,
But thone with toole, and thother with teares
in processe might be scarde.

A Letter sent by Tymetes to his Ladie Pyndara at the time of his departure.

Of Pennes I had good store,
ne Paper did I want
When I began to write to thee:
but Inck was somewhat scant.
Yet Loue deuisde a fetch,
a friendly sleight at neede:
For I with pointed Pensill made
my middle finger bleede.
From whence the bloud as from
a clouen Conduite flue,
And these fewe rude and skillesse lines
with quaking quill I drue.
Now Friend I must depart
and leaue this lyked lande:
Now canckred Hap doth force me take
a new founde toyle in hande.
Shee spites that I should liue,
or leade a quiet life:
Aye seeking how to breede my bale
and make my sorrowes rife.
From whence I passe I knowe,
a place of pleasant blisse,
But wither I shall I wote not well,
I know not where it is.
Where she by Sea or Lande
me (cruell) will compell
To passe, or by the desart Dales,
were verie hard to tell.
But needes I must away,
the Westerne winde doth blowe
So full against my back that I
of force from hence doe go.
Yet naythelesse in pawne
(O Friend) I leaue with you
A faithfull hart, that lasting lyfe
will shewe it selfe as true,
As loouing earst it hath:
and if mee trust you dare,
Fill vp the emptie place with yours,
if you the same may spare.
Inclose it in my breast,
in safetie shall it lie:
And thou shalt haue thy hart againe,
if I doe chaunce to die.
Thus dubble is your gaine,
a dubble hart to haue:
To purchase thee another hart,
and eke thine owne to saue.
Liue mindefull of thy Friend,
forget not promise past:
Be stoute against the stubborne strokes
of frowarde Fortunes blast.
Penelope be true
to thy Vlysses still:
Let no newe chosen Friend breake off
the threed of our good will.
Though I on seas doe passe,
the surge will haue no powre
To quench the flame that in my breast
increaseth day and howre.
And thus (the heart that is
your owne) doth wish thee well,
With good increase of blessed haps
sinister chaunce to quell.
Adue my chosen Friend,
if Fortune say Amen,
From hence I go thine owne, and will
thine owne returne agen.

Pyndaras aunswere to the Letter which Tymetes sent hir at the time of his departure.

When first thy Letters came
(O louing Friend) to mee,
I leapt for ioy, in hope to haue
receyude good newes of thee,
I neuer stayde vpon
those lines that were without:
But rashly ript the Seale, to rid
my minde from dreadfull dout,
Which done (Oh cruell griefe)
I saw a mournefull sight:
This Uerse (of Pennes I had good store)
with Purple bloud ywright.
With flouds of flowing teares
straight drowned were mine eies,
On eyther Cheeke they trickled fast
and ranne in riuer wies.
My minde did yll abode,
it yrkt to read the rest:
For when I saw the Inck was such,
I thought I saw the best.
Long stoode I in a dumpe,
my hart began to ake:
My Liuer leapt within my bulck,
my trembling hands did shake.
My Senses were bereft,
my bowing knees did bende:
Out from my Nose the bloud it brake,
much like the Letter pende.
Up start my staring Locks,
I lay for dead a space:
And what with bloud and brine I all
bedewde the dreerie place.
From out my feeble fist
fell Needle, cloth and all,
I knewe no Wight, I saw no Sunne,
as deafe as stone in wall.
At last when standers by
had brought my Sense againe,
And force of life had conquerd griefe
and banisht deadly paine:
I thought the worst was past,
I deemde I could abide
No greater torment than I had,
vnlesse I should haue dide.
To vewing then againe
of bloudie lynes I go:
And euer as I read the words,
mee thought I saw the blo.
Which pointed Pensell gaue,
from whence that dolefull Inck
As from a clouen Conduit flue:
remembrance make me shrinck.
Oh Friend Tymetes why
so cruell were thou than?
What didst thou meane to hurt thy flesh
thou rash and retchlesse man?
What? didst thou deeme that I
could vew that gorie scrole
Withouten anguish of the minde?
or think vpon the hole
Of that thy friendly fist
and finger that did bleede?
No, no, I haue a Womans hart,
I am no Tygers seede,
As great a griefe it was
for me to think in hart
Of thy mishap, as if my selfe
had felt the present smart.
O cruell cursed want
of fitter Inck to write:
Good fayth that lycour was vnmeete
such louing lines tindite.
But yet in some respect
it fitted with the case:
For (out alas) I read therein
that thou hast fled the place,
Where friendly we were woont
like faithfull friends to bee:
Where thou moughtst chat with me thy fill
and I conferre with thee.
Oh spitefull cruell Chaunce,
oh cursed canckred Fate:
Art thou a Goddesse (Monster vile)
deseruing stoole of State?
O blinde and muffled Dame,
couldst thou not see to spare
Two faithfull harts, but reauing thone
must breede the others care?
No woonder tis that thou
dost stande on whirling wheele:
For by thy deedes thou dost declare
thou canst doe nought but reele.
Art thou of Womans kinde
and ruthfull Goddesse race,
And hast no more respect vnto
a sielie womans case?
Auaunt thou froward Fiend,
thou so my Friend dost driue
From shore well knowne to forraine coast
our sugred ioyes to riue.
If so thy minde be bent
that my Tymetes shall
Depart the presence of his Friend:
Yet so doe guide the ball
As he at lande may liue
not trying surge of seas:
Nor ship him from the Hauens mouth
to breede him more vnease.
(Good Friend) aduenture not
so rashly on the floud,
As earst thou didst in writing of
this Letter with thy bloud.
Seeke not tincrease my cares
or dubble griefe begoon:
Think of Leanders bolde attempt
the lyke distresse to shoon.
What suretie is in ship?
what trust in Oken plancks?
What credit doe the windes deserue
at lande that play such prancks?
If houses strongly built,
and Towers battled hie,
By force of blast be ouerthrowne
when Æols Impes doe flie:
In puffing windes the Pine
and aged Oke doe teare,
And from the bodies rent the boughes
and loftie lugges they beare:
Then why shouldst thou affie
in Keale or Cable so,
Or hazard thus thy selfe vpon
the tossing Seas to go?
Hast thou not heard of yore
how good Vlysses was
With stormie tempest chased sore
when he to Greece did passe?
A wearie trauaile hee
for ten yeares space abid.
And all the while this noble Greeke
on waltring wallow slid.
Hast thou not read in Bookes
of fell Charybdis Goulfe,
And Scyllas Dogs, whome ships doe dread
as Lambes doe feare the Woulfe?
Nor of the raggie Rocks
that vnderlurck the waue?
And rent the Barcks that Æols blasts
into their bosome draue?
Not of the Monsters huge
that belch out frothie fleame,
And singing Sirens that doe drowne
both man and ship in streame?
Alas the thought of Seas,
and of thy passage paines
(If once thou gage thy selfe to surge)
my hart and members straines,
The present fits of feare
of afterclaps to cum.
Amaze my louing tender breast
and Senses doe benum.
But needes thou must away,
(oh Friend) what hap is this
That ere thou flie this friendly coast
thy lips I can not kisse?
Nor with my folded armes
imbrace that neck of thine:
Nor clap vnto thy manly breast
these louing Dugs of mine?
Not shed my trilling teares
vpon thy moisted face?
Nor say to thee (Tymet adue)
when thou departst the place?
O that I had thy forme
in waxen table now,
To represent thy liuely lookes
and friendly louing brow.
That mought perhaps abridge
some part of pinching paine:
And comfort me till better chaunce
did sende thee home againe.
Both winde and waue atonce
conspire to worke my wo,
Or else thou shouldst not so be forst
from me (thine owne) to go.
O wayward Westerne blast
what didst thou meane so full
Against Tymetes back to blow,
and him from hence to pull?
Hast thou bene counted earst
a gentle gale of winde,
And dost thou now at length bewray
thy fierce and frowarde kinde?
I thought the Northren blast
from frostie Pole that came
Had bene the worst of all the windes
and most deserued blame.
But now I plainely see
that Poets did but faine:
When they of Borias spake so yll
and of his cruell raigne.
For thou of Æols brats
thy selfe the worst dost showe:
And hauing no iust cause to rage
to soone beginst to blowe.
If needes thou wouldst haue vsde
thy force and fretting moode,
Thou shouldst haue broyld among the trees
that in the Mountaines stoode:
And let vs friends alone
that liude in perfite blisse.
But to request the windes of ruth
but labor lost it is.
Well (Friend) though cruell hap
and windes did both agree,
That thou on sodaine shouldst forgo
both countrie coast and mee:
Yet haue I founde the pawne
which thou didst leaue behinde:
I meane thy louing faithfull hart,
that neuer was vnkinde.
And for that firme behest
and plighted truth of youre,
Wherein you vow that loue begoon
shall to the death endure:
To yeelde thee thy demaunde
my written lines protest,
Inclose my hart within thy bulck
as I will thine in brest.
Shrine vp that little lumpe
of friendly flesh (my Friend)
And I will lodge in louing wise
the guest that thou didst send.
I ioy at this exchaunge:
for I assured stande,
Thy tender hart that I doe keepe
shall safelie lie at lande.
Nor doe I doubt at all
but thou wilt haue regarde
Of that thy charge, and womans hart
committed to thy warde.
Why dost thou write of death?
I trust thou shalt not die,
As long as in thy manly breast
a womans hart doth lie.
To cruell were the case,
the Sisters eake were shroes:
If they woulde seeke the death of vs.
that are such friendly foes.
But if the worst shoulde fall,
and that the cruell death
Doe stop the spindles of our life,
and reaue vs both of breath:
Yet this doth make me ioy,
that thou shalt be the graue
Unto my hart, and in my brest
thy hart is Hierce shall haue.
For sure a sunder shall
these members neuer go.
As long as life in lims doth lodge
and breath in lungs bylow.
I mindefull liue of thee
and of my promise past:
I will not seeke to chaunge my choise,
my loue is fixed fast.
To my Tymetes I
as faithfull will be found:
As to Vlysses was his wife
whilst Troie was laide on ground.
As for new choise of Friends,
presume vpon thy P.
Thou knowst I haue thy hart in breast
and it will none but thee.
Abandon all distrust
and dread of mistie minde:
For to the hart (that is mine owne)
I will not be vnkinde.
Adue my chosen Friend,
Adue to thee agen:
Remaine my loue, but pray the write
no more with bloudie Pen.

To his absent Friend the Louer writes of his vnquiet and restlesse state.

The aunswere of a woman to hir Louer, supposing his complaint to be but fayned.

You want no skill to paint
or shew your pangues with Pen,
It is a worlde to see the craft
that is in subtile men.
You seeme to write of woes
and wayle for deadly smart,
As though there were no griefe, but that
which gripes your faythlesse hart.
Though we but Women are
and weake by lawe of kinde,
Yet well we can discerne a Friende,
we winke, but are not blinde.
Not euery thing that giues
a gleame and glittering showe,
Is to be counted Gold in deede
this prouerb well you knowe:
Nor euery man that beares
a faire and fawning cheere,
Is to be taken for a Friend
or chosen for a Feere:
Not euerie teare declares
the troubles of the hart,
For some doe weepe that feele no wo
some crie that taste no smart.
The more you seeme to me
in wofull wise to playne,
The sooner I perswade my selfe
that you doe nought but fayne.
The Crocodile by kinde
a floud of teares doth shed
Yet hath no cause of cruell crie
by craft, this Fiend is led.
For when the siely soule
that ment no hurt at all
Approcheth neere, the slipper ground
doth giue the beast a fall,
Which is no sooner done
but straight the monster vyle,
For sorrow that did weepe so sore
for ioy beginnes to smyle:
Euen so you men are woont
by fraude your friends to traine
And make in wise you could not sleepe
in carefull Couch for paine:
When you in deede doe nought
but take your nightly nap,
Or hauing slept doe set your snare
and tylle your guilefull trap.
Your braynes as busie bee
in thinking how to snare
Us women, as your pillowes soft
and bowlsters pleasant are.
As for your dayes delights
our selues can witnesse well
To sundrie women sundrie tales
of sundrie iestes you tell:
And all to win their loues:
which when you doe attaine
Within a while you shew your kindes
and giue them vp in plaine.
A Fawcon is full hard
amongst you men to finde,
For all your maners more agree
vnto the Kytish kinde:
For gentle is the one
and loues his keepers hande,
But thother Busserdlike doth scorne
on Fawckners fist to stande.
For one good turne the one
a thousand will requite,
But vse the other nere so well
he shewth himselfe a Kite.
If Cresyd did amisse
the Troian to forsake
Then Dyomedes did not well
that did the Ladie take.
Was neuer woman false,
but man as false as shee
And commonly the men doe make
that women slipper bee.
Wherefore leaue off your plaints
and take the sheete of shame
To shrowde your cloking harts from colde
and fayning browes from blame.
Yf she that reades this rime,
be wise as I coulde wishe,
She will auoyde the bayted hooke
that takes the biting fishe.
And shoon the lymed twig
the flying Foule that tyes
Tis good to feare of erie bush
where threed of thraldome lyes.

The Louer exhorteth his Ladie to take time, while time is.

Though braue your Beautie be
and feature passing faire,
Such as Apelles to depaint
might vtterly dispaire:
Yet drowsie drouping Age.
incroching on apace,
With pensiue Plough will raze your hue
and Beauties beames deface.
Wherefore in tender yeares
how crooked Age doth haste
Reuoke to minde, so shall you not
your minde consume in waste.
Whilst that you may, and youth
in you is fresh and greene,
Delight your selfe: for yeares to fit
as fickle flouds are seene.
For water slipped by
may not be callde againe:
And to reuoke forepassed howres
were labour lost in vaine.
Take time whilst time applies
with nimble foote it goes:
Nor to compare with passed Prime
thy after age suppoes.
The holtes that now are hoare,
both bud and bloume I sawe:
I ware a Garlande of the Bryer
that puts me now in awe.
The time will be when thou
that doste thy Friends defie,
A colde and crooked Beldam shalt
in lothsome Cabbin lie:
Nor with such nightlie brawles
thy posterne Gate shall sounde,
Nor Roses strawde afront thy dore
in dawning shall be founde.
How soone are Corpses (Lorde)
with filthie furrowes fild?
How quickly Beautie, braue of late,
and seemely shape is spild?
Euen thou that from thy youth
to haue bene so, wilt sweare:
With turne of hand in all thy head
shalt haue graye powdred heare.
The Snakes with shifted skinnes
their lothsome age doo way:
The Buck doth hang is head on pale
to liue a longer day.
Your good without recure
doth passe, receiue the flowre:
Which if you pluck not from the stalke
will fall within this howre.

The Louer wisheth to be conioyned and fast linckt with his Ladie neuer to sunder.

The Louer hoping assuredly of attaining his purpose, after long sute, begins to ioy renouncing dolors.

The Louer to his carefull bed declaring his restlesse state.

An Epitaph and wofull verse of the death of sir Iohn Tregonwell Knight, and learned Doctor of both Lawes

And can you cease from plaint,
or keepe your Conduits drie?
May saltish brine within your breasts
in such a tempest lie?
Where are your scalding sighes
the fittest foode of paine?
And where are now thy welling teares
I aske thee once againe?
Hast thou not heard of late
The losse that hath befell?
If not, my selfe (vnhappie Wight)
will now begin to tell:
(Though griefe perhaps will grutch,
and stay my foltring tongue)
From whence this ragged roote of ruth
and mourning moode is sprong,
Was dwelling in this sheere
a man of worthie fame:
A Iusticer for his desart,
Tregonwell was his name.
A Doctor at the Lawes,
a Knight among the mo:
A Cato for good counsell callde
as he in yeares did grow.
A Patrone to the poore,
A Rampire to the rest:
As leefe vnto the simple sorte
as friendly to the best.
No blinde affect his eie
in iudgement blearde at all:
Whose rightous verdit and decree
was quite deuoyde of gall.
If he in hatefull hartes
(where roote of rancour grew)
Of faythfull friendship seedes might sow,
no paines he would eschew.
Minerua thought of like
and Nature did consent,
To proue in him by skilfull Arte
what eyther could inuent.
A plot of such a price
was neuer framde before:
To show their powre the Heauens had
Tregonwell kept in store.
The Prince did him imbrace,
and sought him to aduaunce,
And better former state of birth
by furthering of his chaunce.
He still was readie bent
his seruice to bestowe,
Thereby vnto his natiue soyle
if gratefull gaine might growe.
If sage aduise were scarce
and wholesome counsell scant,
Then should you see Tregonwels helpe
ne wisedome would not want.
When Legats came from farre
(as is there woonted guise)
To treate of truce, or talke of warre
as matters did arise:
Tregonwell then was callde
his verdit to expresse:
Who for the most part in the case
of fruitfull things could gesse.
Or if himselfe were sent
(which hap Tregonwell had)
Into a farre and forraine lande,
then was Tregonwell glad.
For so he might procure
wealepublick by his paine:
It was no corsie to this Knight
long trauaile to sustaine.
But what? vndaunted death
that seekes to conquer all,
And Atropos that Goddesse sterne
at length haue spit their gall:
And reft vs such a one
as was a Phœnix true,
Saue that now of his cindrie Corse
there riseth not a nue.
Where may you see his match?
where shall you find his leeke?
None, though you from the farthest East
vnto the Ocean seeke.
O house without thy head,
O ship without a steare:
Thy Palynurus now is dead
as shortly will appeare.
In daunger of distresse
this Knight was euer woont
To yeelde himselfe to perils prest,
and bide the greatest broont.
No tumults tempest could
subdue his constant hart:
Ne would the man by any meanes
once from his countrie start.
But (oh) it naught auailes,
for death doth strike the stroke
In things humaine, no worldly wealth
his friendship may prouoke.
Let Troians now leaue off
by mourning to lament
The losse of Priam and his towne,
when ten yeares warre was spent.
Yee Romaines lay your Hoods
and black attire away:
Bewaile no more your Fabians fall
nor that sinister day
That reft a Noble race
which might haue florisht long:
For neither losse is like to this
our not deserued wrong.
Now Cornewall thou mayst crake,
and Dorset thou mayst crie:
For thone hath bred, and thother lost
Tregonwell sodainelie.
Whose corps though earthed bee
in lothsome lumps of soyle,
His peerelesse prayse by vertue woon
shall neuer feare the foyle.
Who so therefore shalt see
this Marble where he lies:
Wish that Tregonwels soule may finde
a place aboue the Skies,
And reach a rowme of rest
appointed for the nones:
For in this Tombe interred is
but flesh and bared bones.

The Louer confesseth himselfe to be in Loue and enamored of Mistresse. P.

That all things haue release of paine saue the Louer, that hoping and dreading neuer taketh ease.

What so the Golden Sunne
beholdes with blazing light,
When paine is past hath time to take
his comfort and delight.
The Oxe with lumpish pace
and leasure that doth drawe,
Hath respite after toyle is past
to fill his emptie mawe.
The lolearde Asse that beares
the burden on his back.
His dutie done to stable plods,
and reacheth to the rack.
The Deere hath woonted soyle
his feruent heate to swage:
When woorke hath ende to respite runnes
the Peasant and the Page.
The Owle that hates the day
and loues to flee by night,
Hath queachie bushes to defende
him from Apollos sight.
Eche Cunnie hath a Caue,
eche little Foule a Nest
To shrowde them in at needefull times
to take their needefull rest.
Thus vewing course of kinde
it is not on the grounde,
That at some time doth not resort
where is his comfort founde:
Saue me (O cursed man)
whome neither Sunne ne shade
Doth serue the burthen of my breast
and sorrowes to vnlade.
Eche sport porcures my smart,
eche seemely sight annoy:
Eche pleasant tune torments mine ease
and reaues my hoped ioy.
No Musick soundes so sweete
as doth the doolefull Drum,
For somewhat neare vnto my smart
that mournefull sounde doth cum.
A Gally slaue I seeme
vnto my selfe to bee:
The Mayster that doth guide the ship
hath neare an eie to see.
You know where such a one
as Cupid is doth steare,
Amid the Goulfe of deepe dispaire
great perill must appeare.
In steade of streaming sayles
hee Wisshes hanges aloft:
Which if in tempest chaunce to teare
the Barck will come to nought.
For winde are scalding sighes
and secret sobbings prest:
Mixt with a cloude of stormie teares
to baine the Louers brest.
Though Cupid neare so well
his beaten Barck doe guie,
By fleeing flats and sinking sandes
that in the wallow lie:
Yet those that are a boorde
must euer stande in awe,
For cause a Bussard is their guide
not forcing any flawe:
That followes none aduice,
but bluntly runnes on hed,
As proude as Peacock ouer those
that in his chaine or led.
Thus may you plainely see
that eche thing hath release
Of pensiue paine, saue Cupids thralls
whose torments aye increase.

A poore Ploughman to a Gentleman, for whome he had taken a little paines.

To his Friende: P: of courting, trauailing, Dysing, and Tenys.

The Louer declares that vnlesse he vtter his sorrowes by sute, of force he dyeth.

The Louer to a Friende that wrote him this sentence.

Yours assured to the death.

Of certaine Flowers sent him by his Loue vpon suspicion of chaunge

Your Flowers for their hue
were fresh and faire to see:
Yet was your meaning not so true
as you it thought to bee.
In that you sent me Bame,
I iudge you ment thereby,
That cleane extinct was all my flame
from whence no sparckes did flie.
Your Fenell did declare
(as simple men can show)
That flattrie in my breast I bare
where friendship ought to grow.
A Daysie doth expresse
great follie to remaine,
I speake it not by roate or gesse,
your meaning was so plaine.
Rosemarie put in minde
that Bayes weare out of thought:
And Loueinydle came behinde
for Loue that long was sought.
Your Cowslips did portende
that care was layde away:
And Eglantyne did make an ende
where sweete with sower lay:
As though the leaues at furst
were sweete when Loue began:
But now in proofe the pricks were curst,
and hurtfull to the Man.

The Aunswere to the same.

Perdie I neede no Bame
ne forced heate by charme,
To set my burning breast in flame
whom Cupids gleames doe warme,
On Bayes is my delight,
Remembrance is not past:
Though Daysie hit the nayle aright,
my Friendship aye shall last.
Though Loue in ydle bee,
yet will I not forgoe
Ne cast off care as you shall see,
and time the trouth shall showe.
So I may taste the sweete,:
I force not on the sowre
The more is ioy when Friends doe meete,
that Fortune earst did lowre.
Your Fenell failed quight
where such good fayth is ment:
For Bayes are onely my delight
though I for Bayes be shent.

Of a Foxe that woulde eate no Grapes.

Of the straunge countenaunce of an aged Gentlewoman.

It makes me laugh a good to see thee lowre,
and long to looken sad:
For when thy crabbed countnance is so sowre,
thou art to seeming glad.
I blame not thee but nature in his case,
That might bestowde on thee a better grace.

To the Rouing Pyrat.

Thou winste thy wealth by warre
vngodly way to gaine:
And in an houre thy ship is sunck
goods drownde, the Pirat slaine.
The Gunne is all thy trust,
it serues thy cruell fo
Then brag not on thy Canon shot
As thought there were no mo.

Of one that had little Wit.

I thee aduise
If thou be wise
To keepe thy wit
Though it be small:
Tis rare to get
And farre to fet,
Twas euer yit
Dearste ware of all.

In commendation of Wit.

Wit farre exceedeth wealth,
Wit Princely pompe excels,
Wit better is than Beauties beames
Where Pride and Daunger dwels.
Wit matcheth Kingly Crowne,
Wit maisters Witlesse rage:
Wit rules the fonde affects of youth,
Wit guides the steps of Age.
Wit wants no Reasons skill
a faithfull Friend to know:
Wit wotes full well the way to voide
the smooth and fleering fo.
Wit knowes what best becommes
and what vnseemely showes:
Wit hath a wile to ware the worst,
Wit all good fashion knowes:
Since Wit by wisedome can
doe this and all the rest,
That I imploy my painefull head
to come by Wit is best.
Whome if I might attaine,
then Wit and I were one:
But till time Wit and I doe cope,
I shall be post alone.

An aunswere in dispraise of Wi[t]

The Wit you so commend
with wealth cannot compare:
For wealth is able Wit to win
when Wit is waxen bare.
Wit hath no Beauties beames,
to Kingly crowne it yeeldes:
Wit subiect is to wilfull rage,
Rage Wit and Reason weeldes.
Wit rules not witlesse youth,
nor aged steps doth guide:
Wit knowes not how to win a friende,
Wit is so full of pride.
Wit wots not how to flie
the smooth and flattering gest:
Wit cannot well discerne the thing
that doth become it best.
Wit hath no wyle to ware
mishap before it fall,
Wit knowes not what good fashion meanes,
Wit can doe naught at all.
Since Wit by wisdome can
doe nothing as you weene,
If you doe toyle to come by Wit,
then are you ouer seene.
Whome when you doe attaine,
though Wit and you seeme one:
Yet Wit will to another when
your back is turnde and gone.

The Louer to Cupid for mercie, declaring how first he became his thrall, with the occasion of his defiyng Loue, and now at last what caused him to conuert.

O mightie Lorde of Loue
Dame Venus onely ioy,
Whose Princely powre doth farre surmount
all other heauenly Roy:
I that haue swarude thy lawes
and wandred farre astray:
Haue now retyrde to thee againe
thy statutes to obay.
And so thou wouldst vouchsafe
to let me pleade for grace:
I would before thy Barre declare
a sielie Louers case.
I would depaint at full
how first I was thy man:
And show to that what was the cause
that I from Cupid ran.
And how I haue since that
yspent my weerie time:
As I shall tell, so thou shalt here
declarde in doolefull rime.
In greene and tender age
(my Lorde) till .xviij. yeares,
I spent my time as fitted youth
in Schole among my Feeares
As then no Bearde at all
was growne vpon my Chin,
Which well approoude that mans estate
I was not entred in.
I neede not tell the names
of Authors which I read,
Of Proes and Uerse we had inough
to fine the dullest head.
But I was chiefly bent
to Poets famous Art,
To them with all my deuor I
my studie did conuert.
Where when I had with ioy
yspent my time a while:
The reast refusde, I gaue me whole
to Nasos Noble stile.
Whose volumes when I saw
with pleasant stories fright:
In him (I say) aboue the rest
I laide my whole delight.
What should I here reherse
with base and barraine Pen,
The lincked tales and filed stuffe
that I pervsed then?
In fine it was my loare
vpon that part to light
Wherein he teacheth youth to loue,
and women win by slight
Which Treatise when I had
with iudging eie suruayde:
At last I found thy Godly kynde
and Princely powre displayde.
Of Cupid all that Booke
and of his raigne did ring,
The Poet there of Venus did
in sugred Dittie sing.
There read I of thy shafts
and of thy golden Bow,
Thy shafts which by their diuers heads
their diuers kindes did show.
I saw how by thy force
thou madest men to stoope:
And grisely Gods by secret slight
and Deuilish Imps to droope.
There were depainted plaine
thy quick and quiuer wings,
And what so else doth touch thy powre
there Ouid sweetely sings.
There I thy Conquests sawe
and many a noble spoile:
With names annexed to the same
of such as had the foile.
There Matrones marcht along
and Maydens in their Roe,
Both Faunes and Satyrs there I saw
with Neptuns troupe also.
With other thousands else
which Naso there doth write,
But not my Pen or barraine Skull
is able to recite.
O mightie Prince (quoth I)
of such a fearefull force,
How blest were I, so thou of mee
wouldst daine to take remorce?
And choose mee for thy thrall
among the rest to bee,
That liue in hope and serue in trust
as waged men to thee?
With that (thy Godhead knowes)
thou gauste a freindly looke:
And (though vnwoorthie such a place)
mee to thy seruice tooke.
In token I was thine
I had a badge of Blue
With Sabels set, and charge withall
that I should aye be true.
Thou badste me follow Hope
who tho thy Ensigne bare.
And so I might not doe amisse,
thus didst thy selfe declare.
Then who reioyst but I?
who thought himselfe yblist?
That was in Cupids seruice plaste
as brauely as the best?
And thus in lustie youth
I grue to be your thrall,
And was (I witnesse of thy Dame)
right well content withall.
But now I minde to shewe
(as promisse was to doe)
How first I fled thy Tents, and why
thy campe I did forgoe.
When I had bene retainde
well nigh a yeare or more,
And serude in place of wage and meede
as is the Souldiars lore:
I chaunst by hap to cast
my floting eies awrie,
And so a Dame of passing shape
my fortune was to spie.
On whome Dame Nature thought
such beautie to bestowe,
As she had neuer framde before
as proufe did plainely showe.
On hir I gazde a while
till vse of sense was fled:
And colour Paper white before
was woxen Scarlet red.
I felt the kindled sparkes
to flashing flames to growe:
And so on sodaine I did loue
the Wight I did not knowe.
Then to thy Pallace I
with frowarde foote did run,
And what I saide, I mynde it yet,
for thus my tale begun.
O Noble Sir (quoth I)
is this your free assent
I should pursue a Game vnknowne
within your stately Tent?
If so (quoth I) thou wilt,
and giuste the same in charge:
I mynde of all my brydled lust
to let the Raynes at large.
Then (Hope) did prick mee forth
and bad mee be of cheere:
Who said I should within a while
subdue my Noble Feere.
He counselde mee to shun
no dreadfull daungers place,
But follow him who Banner bore
vnto your Noble grace.
He would maintaine my right
and further aye my cause,
And bannish all dispaire that grewe
by frowarde fortunes flawes.
Tis Cupids will (quoth hee)
our Maister and our Lorde
That thou with manly hart and hand
shouldst lay the Barck aborde.
She shall not choose but yeelde
the fruite for passed paines:
For shee is one of Cupids thralls,
and bound in Venus Chaines.
Thinkst thou our maister will
his seruant liue in woe?
No not for all his golden Darts
ne yet his crooked Bowe.
Wherefore with luckie Mart
giue charge vnto the Wight:
Take Speare in hande, and Targe on arme,
and doe with courage fight.
With that, I armde me well
as fits a warring man,
And to the place of friendly fight
with lustie foote I ran.
My Foe was there before
I came vnto the fielde,
I thought Bellona had bene there
or Pallas with hir shielde.
So well shee was beset
with Plate and priuie Maile,
As for my life my limber Launce
might not a whit preuaile.
Yet naythelesse with Speare
and Shielde, we fought a space:
But last of all we tooke our Bowes
and Arrowes from the case.
Then Dartes we gan to sling
in wide and weightlesse Skies:
And then the fiercest fight of all
and combat did arise.
In stead of shiuering shafts,
light louing lookes we cast,
And there I founde my selfe too weake
hir Arrowes went so fast.
But one aboue the reast
did cleaue my breast so farre,
As downe it went, where lay my hart,
and there it gaue a iarre.
So cruell was the stroke,
so sodaine eke the wounde,
As by the fearefull force I fell
into a senselesse sounde.
Thus hauing no refuge
to quite my selfe from death:
I made a vowe to loue hir well
whilst Lungs should lende me breath.
And since that time I haue
endeuorde with my might
To win hir loue, but nought preuailes
shee wayes it not a Mite.
Shee skornes my yeelding hart,
not forcing on my Hest:
But by disdaine of cloudy browe
doth further my vnrest.
Yet ruthlesse though shee were,
and farsed full of yre:
I looude hir well as hart coulde think,
or woman might desire.
I sought to frame my speach
and countnance in such sort,
As shee my couert hart myght see
by shewe of outwarde port.
To Troilus halfe so true
vnto his Creside was
As I to hir, who for hir face
did Troiane Creside passe.
At length, when Reason saw
mee sotted so in loue
As I ne would, ne might at all
my fansie thence remoue:
Shee causde hir Trumpe be blowne
to cyte hir seruants all
Into the place, by whose aduise
I might be rid from thrall.
Then Plato first appearde
with sage and solemne sawes:
And in his hand a golden booke
of good and greekish lawes
Whose honnie mouth such wise
and weightie wordes did tell:
Gainst thee and all thy troupe at once
as Reason likte it well.
When Platoes tale was done,
then Tullie prest in place:
Whose filed tongue with sugred talke
would good a simple case.
With open mouth I heard
and Iawes ystrecht awyde,
How he gainst Venus dearlings all
and Cupids captiues cryde.
Then Plutarch gan to preach
and by examples proue,
That thousand mischiefes were procurde
by meane of guilefull loue.
Whole Cities brought to spoyle,
and Realmes to shamefull sack:
Where Kings and Rulers good aduice
by meane of Loue did lack?
Next Plutarch, Senec came
seuere in all his sawes:
Who cleane defide your wanton tricks,
and scornde your childish lawes.
I neede not name the reast
that stoode as then in place:
But thousandes more there were that sought
your Godhead to deface.
When all the Hall was husht,
and Sages all had donne:
Then Reason that in iudgement sate
hir skilfull talke begonne.
Gramercie Friends (quoth shee)
your counsell lykes me well:
But now lend eare to Reasons wordes
and listen what I tell.
What madnesse may be more
than such a Lorde to haue,
Who makes the chieftaine of his bande
a ruke and raskall slaue?
Who woonted is to yeelde
in recompence of paine,
A ragged recompence God wote
that turnes to meere disdaine?
Who gladly would ensue
a Conduct that is blinde?
Or thrall himselfe to such a one
as shewes himselfe vnkinde?
What Ploughman would be glad
to sowe his seede for gaine,
And reape when Haruest time comes on
but trauaile for his paine?
What madman might endure
to watch and warde for nought?
To ride, to runne, and last to loose
the recompence he sought?
To waste the day in wo,
and restlesse night in care,
And haue in stead of better foode
but sobbing for his fare?
To bleare his eies with brine
and salted teares yshead:
To force his fainting flesh to fade,
his colour pale and dead?
And to foredoe with carke
his wretched witherde hart?
And so to breede his bitter bale
and hatch his deadly smart?
I speake it to this fine,
that plainely might appere
Cupidos craft and guilefull guise
to him that standeth here.
Whose eies with fansies mist
and errors cloudes are dim,
By meane that hee in Venus Lake
and Cupids goulfe doth swim.
And hath by sodaine sight
of vnacquainted shape
So fixt his hart, as hope is past
for euer to escape.
Unlesse to these my wordes
a listning eare hee lende:
Which oft art woont the Louers minde
and fansie to offende.
But he that would his health
sowre Sirops must assay:
For erie griefe hath cure againe
by cleane repugnaunt way.
And who so mindes to quite
and rid himselfe from wo,
Must seeke in time for to remoue
the thing that hurtes him so.
For longer that it lastes
it frets the farder in
Untill it growe to curelesse maine
by passing fell and skin.
The Pyne that beares his head
vp to the haughtie Skie,
Would well haue beene remooude at first
as daylie proofe doth trie:
Which now no force of man
nor engine may subuart:
So wyde the creeping rootes are run
by Natures subtile Art:
So Loue by slender sleight
and little paine at furst
Would haue beene stopt, but hardly now
though thou wouldst doe thy wurst,
The woonted saw is true,
shun Loue, and Loue will flee,
But follow Loue and spite thy nose
then Loue will follow thee.
And though such graffed thoughts
on sodaine may not die,
Ne be forgone: yet processe shall
their farther grouth destrie.
No Giaunt for his lyfe
can cleaue a knarrie Oke,
Though he would seeke to doe his wurst
and vtmost at a stroke:
But let the meanest man
haue space to sell him downe,
And he will make him bende his head
and bring his boughes to grownde.
No force of falling showre
can pierce the Marble stone,
As will the often drops of raine
that from the gutters gone.
Wherefore thou retchlesse man
my counsell with the mo
Is, that thou peecemeale doe expell
the loue that paines thee so.
Renounce the place where shee
doth make soiourne and stay:
Force not hir trayning truthlesse eies,
but turne thy face away.
Thinke that the hurtfull hooke
is couerde with such baite:
And that in such a pleasant plot
the Serpent lurcks in waite.
Waie well hir scornefull cheere,
and think shee seekes thy spoile:
And though thy conquest were atchiude
may not acquite thy toile:
Not ydle see thou bee,
take aye some charge in hande:
And quickly shalt thou quench the flame
of carelesse Cupids brande.
For what (I pray you) bred
Ægisthus fowle defame?
And made him spoken of so yll?
what put him to the shame?
What forcde the Foole to loue.
his beastly ydle lyfe
Was cause that he besotted was
of Agamemnons Wyfe.
If he had fought in field
encountring with his Foe,
On stately steede, or else on foote
with glaue had giuen the bloe:
If he that Lecher lewde
had warlick walles assailde
With Cannon shot, or bownsing Ram
his fenced enmies quailde:
He had not felt such force
of vile and beastly sin,
Cupidos shafts had fallen short
if he had busie bin.
What Myrrha made to loue,
or Byblos to desire
To quench the heate of hungrie lust
and flames of filthy fire?
What Canace enforcde
to frie with frantick brands,
In sort as vp to yeeld hir selfe
vnto hir brothers hands?
And others thousand mo
of whome the Poets wright?
Nought else (good fayth) but for they had
in ydle thoughts delight.
They spent their youthfull yeares
in foule and filthie trade,
They busied not their ydle braines
but God of Pleasure made.
Wherefore if thou (I say)
dost couet to auoyde
That bedlam Boyes deceitfull Bowe
that others hath anoyde:
Eschewe the ydle lyfe,
flee, flee from doing nought:
For neuer was there ydle braine
but bred an ydle thought.
And when those stormes are past
and cloudes remooude away:
I know thou wilt on (Reason) think
and minde the words I say.
Which are: that Loue is roote

Discomodities of Loue.

and onely crop of care,
The bodies foe, the harts annoy,
and cause of pleasures rare.
The sicknesse of the minde,
the Fountaine of vnrest:
The goulfe of guile, the pit of paine,
of griefe the hollow Chest.
A fierie frost, a flame
that frozen is with Ise,
A heauie burden light to beare,
a Uertue fraught with Uice.
It is a Warlike peace,
a safetie set in dred,
A deepe dispaire annext to hope,
a famine that is fed.
Sweete poyson for his taste,
a Porte Charybdis leeke,
A Scylla for his safetie thought,
a Lyon that is meeke.
And (by my Crowne I sweare)
the longer thou dost loue,
The longer shalt thou liue a Thrall
as tract of time will proue.
Wherefore retire in haste
and speede thee home againe,
And pardned shall thy trespasse bee,
and thou exempt from paine.
Take Reason for thy guide
as thou hast done of yore:
And spite of Loue thou shalt not loue
ne be a thrall no more.
Repaire to Platos schoole,
and Tullies true aduice:
Let Plutarch be and Seneca
thy teachers to be wise.
This long and learned tale
had broosed so my braine:
As I forthwith to reason ran,
and gaue thee vp in plaine.
Fie, fie on Loue quoth I,
I now perceiue his craft:
For Reason hath declarde at large
how hee my freedome raft,
I see his promise is
farre fayrer than his paie:
I finde how Cupid blearde mine eies,
and made me run astraie.
I wote how hungrie Hope
hath led mee by the lip,
And made mee mooue an endlesse sute
well worth an Oken chip.
Hee trainde mee all by trust,
I farde as Hounde at hatch:
The lesser fruite I founde, the more
I was procurde to watch.
Thus (mightie Lorde) I left
thy lawes and statutes strong
For rayling Reasons trifling talke,
and offerd thee a wrong.
But now Dame Venus knowes,
and thou hir sonne canst tell
That I within my couert hart
doe loue thee passing well.
Now fully bent to be
(so thou wilt cleane put out
Of mind my passed iniuries)
thy man and Souldier stout:
Prest to obey thy will
and neuer swarue againe,
As long as Venus is of force
and thou shalt keepe thy Raigne.
I weigh not Tullies tale,
ne prating Platos talke:
Let Plutarch vouch what Plutarch can,
let skuruey Senec walke.
Olde Ouid will I reade,
whose pleasant wit doth passe
The reast, as farre as stubborne Steele
excells the brittle Glasse.
In him thy deedes of Armes
and manly Marts appeere,
In him thy stately spoyles are seene
as in a Mirrour cleere.
Thy mothers prayse and thine
in him are to be founde,
For conquestes which you had in Heauen
and here bylow on grounde.
Forgiue my former guilt,
forget my passed toyes:
And graunt I may aspire againe
vnto my woonted ioyes.
If euer man did loue
or serue in better steede,
Then shape my wagesse to the same
and doe restraine my meede.
But so I fight in fielde
as fiercely as the best:
I hope that then your Godhead will
reward me with the rest.

After misaduentures come good haps.

I neuer thought but this that luck in fine
Would to my will and fansie well incline.
For dayly proofe doth make an open show
That commen course of things would haue it so.
When stormie clouds from darkned skyes are fled,
Then Phœbus shewes his gay and golden hed.
His princely pride appeares whē showres are past,
And after day the night ensues as fast.
When winter hath his trembling carkas showne,
And wt his frostie foote the spring downe throwne,
Then in leapes Æstas gay with gladsome gleames
That Haruest brings & dries vp winter streames.
The Barck that broylde in rough & churlish Seas
At length doth reach a Port and place of ease.
The wailefull warre in time doth yeelde to peace,
The Larums lowde & Trūpets sound doth cease:
Thus may we see that chaunce is full of chaunge.
And Fortune feedes on foode that is full straunge,
Wherefore doe not dispaire thou louing Wight,
For Seas doe ebbe and flow by Natures might:
From worse to good our haps are chaunged oft,
And basest things sometimes are raysde aloft.
So Gods would haue, and Fortune doth agree,
Which proufe appeeres and is exprest by mee.

To his Loue that controlde his Dogge for fawning on hir.

Vpon the death of the aforenamed Dame Elizabeth Arhundle of Cornewall.

What Tongue can tell the wo?
what Pen expresse the plaint?
Unlesse the Muses helpe at neede
I feele my wits to faint.
Yee that frequent the hilles
and highest Holtes of all,
Assist mee with your skilfull Quilles
and listen when I call.
And Phœbus, thou that sitst
amidst the learned route,
Doo way thy Bowe, and reach thy Lute
and say to sounde it oute.
Helpe (learned Pallas) helpe
to write the fatall fall
Of hir, whose lyfe deserues to be
a Mirrour to vs all.
Whose Parents were of fame
as Leyster well can showe:
Where they in worship long had liude,
with yeares did worship growe.
Of worship was the house
from whence shee tooke hir line:
And she a Dannat by discent
to worship did incline.
What neede I pen the prayse
of hir that liude so well.
That of it selfe doth yeelde a sounde,
we neede not ring the Bell.
Whilst Dannat did ensue
Diana in the race,
A truer Nymph than Dannat was
was neuer earst in place.
With Beautie so adrest
with Uertue so adornde:
Was none that more imbraste the good.
nor at the wicked scornde.
When fleeing Fame with Trumpe
and blasted brute had brought
This Dannats thewes to courtlike eares
(which Dannat neuer sought)
To Court she was procurde
on Princesse to attende
A seruice fit for such a one
hir flowring yeares to spende,
Where when she had remainde
and serude the Princesse well,
Not rashly but with good aduice
to Iunos yoke she fell.
A Woulfe by hap espide
this sielie Lambe in place,
And thought hir fittest for his pray:
not gastly was his face,
Not Woulflike were his eies,
ne harrish was his voice:
Nor such as Lambes might feare to heare
but rather might reioice.
A hart not bent to hate
or yeelding pray to spill:
Unto Licaon farre vnlike
whose pleasure was to kill.
Arhundle was his name,
his stock of great discent:
Whose predecessors all their liues
in Uertues path had spent.
Hee not vnlike the rest
behaude himselfe so well,
As he in fine became a Knight,
so to his share it fell.
Thus was this Ladie fast
conioynde in sacred knot:
Whose prime and tender yeares were spent
deuoyde of slaunders blot.
The match no sooner made,
when mariage rites were donne;
But Dannat ranne hir race as right
as shee hir course begonne.
And sooth it is, shee liude
in wiuely bond so well,
As she from Collatinus wife
of Chastice bore the bell.
Vlysses wyfe did blush
to heare of Dannats prayse:
Admetus Make (the good Alcest)
did yeelde vp all hir Kayes.
The Greekes might take in griefe
of such a one to heere,
Who for hir well deserued fame
could haue no Greekish Peere.
Thus many yeares were spent
with good and soothfast life,
Twixt Arhundle that worthie Knight
and his approoued wife.
Of whome such Impes did spring,
such fruite began to growe.
Such issue did proceede as we
them by their braunches knowe.
The Oke will yeelde no Grapes,
the Uine will beare no Hawes:
Ech thing must follow kindly course
by Natures fixed lawes.
Euen so that worthie Tree
such fruite is seene to beare,
As yet commends the withred stocks
and them to Welkin reare.
Thus did they liue in ioy,
till chaunce and spitefull death
These louing Turtles did deuide
and reft the Cock his breath.
Then first the bale began,
then black attyre came on:
And Dannats dreerie doole was seene
with neuer stinting mone.
Nought might hir sorrow swage,
but still she did bewaile
The Cinders of hir seuerd Make
with teares of none auaile.
Seauen yeares she spent in wo
refusing other Make:
For such is Turtles kinde you know
they will none other take.
I doubt where Dido felt
the like tormenting rage,
When that the guilefull Guest was gone
that laid his fayth to gage,
This Dannats vertues were
so rife and eke so rare,
As few with hir for honest life.
and wisdome might compare.
Minerua did soiourne
within that wiuely brest:
Hir deedes declarde that in hir head
Dame Pallas was a guest.
But what we couet most
or chiefest holde in price,
With greedie gripe of darting death
is reaued with a trice.
The cruell Sisters three
were all in one agreede,
To let the spindle run no more
but shrid the fatall threede.
And fortune, (to expresse
what swing and sway she bare)
Allowde them leaue to vse their force
vpon this Iewell rare.
Thus hath the Welkin woon,
and we a losse sustainde:
Thus hath hir Corse a Uaute founde out,
hir Sprite the Heauens gainde.
Since sobbing will not serue,
ne shedding teares auaile
To bring the soule to Corps againe
his olde and woonted Gaile:
Leaue off to bath hir stone
with Niobs teares to long,
For thou shalt aide hir naught at all
but put thy selfe to wrong.
Wish that hir soule may reach
the place from whence it came:
And she be guerdond for hir life
with neuer dying fame.
For sure she well deserude
to haue immortall prayse,
And lawde more light than clearest Sunne
or Phœbus golden rayes.
If ought my slender skill
or writing were of powre,
No processe of ingratefull time.
hir vertues should deuoure.

Disprayse of Women that allure and loue not.

When so you vew in Uerse
and Poets rimes report,
Of Lucrece, and Vlysses wife
that lyues in honest sort.
When Hippo commes by hap
or good Alcest yfeare,
And other some that by desert
with fame renowmed were,
Then you with hastie doome
and rashfull sentence straight,
Will vaunt that women more and lesse
were all with vertue fraight.
And, for those fewe that liude
in wiuely bonde so well,
You will esteeme the reast by those
that onely bare the bell,
But follow sound aduice,
let eche receyue hir doome,
As ech in vertue did surmount,
or sit in highest roome.
So cleane was neuer seede
ysifted, but among
For all their paynes were weedes that grew
to put the graine to wrong.
That troupe of honest Dames
those Grisels all are gone:
No Lucrece now is left aliue,
ne Cleopatra none.
Those dayes are all ypast,
that date is fleeted by:
They myrrors were Dame Nature made
hir skilfull hande to try.
Now course of kinde exchaungde
doth yeelde a woorser graine,
And women in these latter yeares
those modest Matrones staine.
Deceit in their delight,
great fraude in friendly lookes:
They spoyle the Fish for friendships sake
that houer on their Hookes.
They buye the baite to deare
that so their freedome loze:
And they the more deceitfull are
that so can craft and gloze.
With beautie to allure,
and murder with disdaine:
What more may be gainst womens kind
where ruth of right should raigne
So Memphite Crocodile
(as we in Poets fine)
Where Nylus with his seuenfold streame
to Seaward doth incline
With ruthlesse trickling teares
and lamentable sounde,
The siely Beast with pittie mooude
doth cruelly confounde.
So Marmaydes in the flood
and Syrens sweetly sing,
Till they the musing Mariner
to speedie death doe bring.
Now Helen for hir traine
with Dian may compare:
Such sundrie Helens now are found,
and Dians Nymphes so rare.
Who if by craft espie
thy Senses once to bende,
And bow by Cupids subtile breach
that burning gleames doth sende:
Then will they seeke in haste
by force of friendly blinck,
And wrested looke into thy breast
their beauties shape to sinck.
Which if be brought to passe,
then haue they their desire:
And standing farre doe smile to see
the flaming of the fire.
Then looke they on a loofe,
and neuer once repaire
To ende the strife that they haue stirrde
twixt Louer and Dispaire.
As Shepheards when they see
the Ganders foe in snare
Reioyce, that from their foldes of late
their siely cattle bare:
Or Boy that knowes the Foule
to be in pithole caught,
That woonted was to steale the stale
and set the snare at naught:
So wily Women woont
to laugh, when so they spie
The louing Wight ytraynde by trust
in poynt and pinch to die.
But if such chaunce doe chaunce
(as often chaunce we see)
The fish that earst was hangde on Hooke
by better chaunce be free,
If he by happie hap
doe cast off Cupids yoke,
Not setting of their Loue a Leeke
that gaue the cruell stroke:
Then are remooude the cloudes
of hir disdainfull brow:
And friendships flood that earst was drie
afresh begins to flow.
Then wresteth shee hir grace,
and makes a seeming show
As though she ment no chaunge at all,
ne would hir Hestes forgo.
Thus are they fright with wiles
whome Nature made so plaine,
Thus Sinons shifts they put in vre
their purpose to attaine.
Wherefore let be our care
Vlysses trade to trie:
And stop our eares against the sounde
of Syrens when they crie.
Think when thou seest the baite
whereon is thy delite,
That hidden Hookes are hard at hande
to bane thee when thou bite.
Think well that poyson lurckes
in shape of Sugar sweete:
And where the freshest flowres are seene
there most beware thy feete.
But chiefly Women shoonne
and follow mine aduice,
If not, thou mayst perhaps in proufe
of folly beare the price.
To trust to rotten boughes
the daunger well is seene:
To treade the tylled trap vnwares
hath alwayes perill beene.
Haue Medea still in minde,
let Circe be in thought:
And Helen that to vtter sack,
both Greece and Troie brought
Let Creside be in coumpt
and number of the mo,
Who for hir lightnesse may presume
with falsest on the row:
Else would she not haue left
a Troian for a Greeke.
But what? by kinde the Cat will hunt,
hir Father did the like.
As wylie are their wits,
so are their tongues vntrue:
Unconstant and aye fleeting mindes
that most imbrace the nue.
When fixed is their fayth
it restes on brittle sande:
And when thou deemste them surste of all
they beare thee but in hande.
Though Argus were aliue
whose eies in number were
As many as the Peacock proude
in painted plume doth beare:
Yet Women by their wyles
and well acquainted drifts,
Would soone deceiue his waking head,
and put his eies to shifts.
Nought haue they neede at all
Cyllenus Pipe to blow
To forge their fraude, their tongues will serue
as learned writers show.

Of a Phisition and a Soothsayer.

Marcke felt himselfe diseasde,
the Soothsayer sayd: There bee
Sixe yet remainder daies of life,
no mo (Friend Marcke) to thee
Then skilfull Alcon came,
he felt the pulses beate:
And out of hande this Marcus dide,
there Phisick wrought his feate.
This showes Phisition doth
the Soothsayer farre exceede:
For thone can make a short dispatch,
when thother makes no speede.

A controuersie of a conquest in Loue twixt Fortune and Venus.

Whilst Fissher kest his line
the houering fish to hooke:
By hap a rich mans daughter on
the Fissher kest hir looke.
Shee fryde with frantick Loue,
they maride eke at last:
Thus Fissher was from lowe estate
in top of Treasure plast.
Stoode Fortune by and smylde:
how say you (Dame) quoth shee
To Venus? was this conquest yours,
or is it due to mee?
Twas I (quoth Vulcans Wife)
with helpe of Cupids Bowe,
That made this wanton wench to rage,
and match hir selfe so lowe.
Not so: twas Fortune I
that brought the Trull in place:
And Fortune was it that the man
stoode so in Maydens grace.
By Fortune fell their loue,
twas Fortune strake the stroke:
Then detter is this man to mee
that did the match prouoke.

The Louer voweth how so euer he be guerdoned to loue faithfully.

Vnthankfull though she were
and had disdainefull browe,
Regarding nought my constant hart,
ne forcing of hir vowe:
Since sowen is the seede
of faithfull friendships lore,
Vnconstant will I neuer be
ne breake my Hest therefore.
Let Fortune vse hir force
so Cupide stande mine ayde,
And Cyprid laugh with loouely looke,
I will not be afrayde.
By mee the Noble kinde
of man shall not be shamde,
Recorde through mee shall neuer force
our sequell be defamde.
Albe that I consume
my greene and growing youth,
Yea age and all without rewarde
yet nill I swarue my truth.
Eche that shall after come,
and liue when I am dust,
This louing hart shall well descrie
the Key of perfite trust.
Hir, while my vitall breath
these fainting limmes shall mooue:
Yea, after death in hollow Uawte
ytombed, will I looue.
Force shee my seruice true
I force it not at all,
Rue she by ruth my dreerie life
or it to mercy call:
In stay my Loue shall stand,
I will not false my fayth,
Ne breake my former plighted hest
or promise to the death.
Disdaine shall neuer force
my friendship once awrie:
Ere that I craue immortall Gods
that ye will let me die.
Let Dido still complaine
Æneas broken Hest,
Of all that came to Carthage Coast
the most vnfaythfull guest.
Untrustie Theseus eke
let Ariadne cleepe,
Escaping from his friendly Feere
yled in slumbring sleepe:
So let Medea blame
the Knight that woon the Flise,
That forced naught at all in fine
hir cleapings and hir cries:
Haue thou the faythfull hart
of thine assured Friend,
Ere he be of that retchlesse race
the Sunne awrie shall wende.
Where so thou yeelde him grace
or as an outcast shoon:
Expect his former plighted Hest
as thou tofore hast doon.
Loue will hee neuer blame
ne Venus lawes forgo,
Life sooner shall than loue decrease
his faith is fixed so.

He sorrowes the long absence of his Ladie. P.

To his Loue long absent, declaring his torments.

O lingring Loue, O Friende
that absent art so long,
Where so thou be, the Gods thee guide
and quit thy Corse from wrong:
And sende thee harmelesse health,
and safely to reuart,
How soone your selfe may deeme full well
to saue a dying hart.
For since your parture I
haue lead a lothsome state:
And saue the hope of your returne
nought might my woes abate.
And will you know the time
how I haue spent away?
And doe you long in ruthfull rime
my torments to suruay?
Though but with weeping eies
I may the same recite:
Yet naythelesse the truth herein
to thee (my Friend) I write.
When flickring Fame at first
vnto mine eares had brought
That you to trauell were addrest,
and fixed was your thought
In London long to lodge,
and flee our friendly soile:
Then Dolour first in daunted Corps
and wounded breast did boile.
I felt how griefe did gi[illeg.]
the onset on my hart,
And sorrow sware that pensiue pangues
should neuer thence depart.
With clinching clawes there came,
and talents sharply set,
A flock of greedie griping woes
my grunting hart to fret.
The more I sought the meane
by pleasaunt thought to ease
My growing griefe, the more I felt
increase my new disease.
When other laught for ioy,
it brought to minde my woe:
When Musick slakte their sorrowes, then
my secret sore did growe.
When they at meate were set
their daintie foode to taste,
In stead of Viands, hartie sighes
I had for my repaste.
When Bacchus came to Boorde,
and eche to other drincks:
My swolen floud of salted teares
did ouerflow his brincks,
And out did gushe amaine
of drinke to stande in steede
To me, that of such monstrous meate
as sorrow was did feede.
From boorde to bed I goe,
in hope to finde reliefe,
And by some pleasaunt nap to rid
my troubled Ghost from griefe:
But slumbring sleepe is fled.
and Morpheus shewes his spight:
That will not yeelde on minuts reast
in all a Winters night.
O Lorde, what sundrie kindes
of care doe then begin
Tassault my wearie waking head,
and trembling hart within?
A thousande thoughts arise,
eche thought his torment brings:
And thus the lothed night I spend
and feele how sorrow springs.
And if in dawning chaunce
some drouping sleepe to light
Upon the carefull Corse that thus
hath spent the waking night:
It standes in little steade,
so dreadfull are my dreames
As they by force of wo procure
mine eies to runne with streames.
Then bathe I bed with brine,
and cloy my Couch with teares:
And mid my sleepe thy griesly Ghost
in straungie sort appeares.
Not with such friendly face
and brow of gladsome cheare
As earst thou hadst: those louely lookes
and blincks are all areare.
More grimmer is your grace,
more coye your countnance eake:
More lowring lookes than were of yore
and Brow more bent to wreake.
In hande mee thinkes I see
thee holde the hatefull knife
To slea thy Friend, and for good will
to reaue deserued lyfe.
Wherewith I wake afright
and straine my pillow fast,
To garde me from the cruell toole
vntill your wrath be past.
At length I see it plaine
that fansie did enforce
Unto his vgly monstrous dreame
my weake and slumbring Corse.
I vewe thy secret hart,
and how it longs to bee
With him that for vnfayned loue
impawnde his faith to thee.
For mercie then I call
of you that iudge so yll,
Whose pleasure is to garde your Friend,
and not your Foe to kyll.
Of dreames a thousand such
eche night I haue a share,
To bannish sleepe from pining Corse
and nurse my canckred care.
Thus day and night I liue,
thus night and day I die:
In death I feele no smart at all,
in life great wo I trie.
Wherefore to rid my griefes
and bannish all annoie:
Retire from Creece, and doe soiourne
here with thy Friend in Troie.
Who longs to see thy face
and witnesse of thy state:
And partner be of thy delights
Ahis furious fits to bate.

To Browne of light beliefe.

Beware my Browne of light beliefe,
trust not before you trie:
For vnder cloke of great good will
doth fained friendship lie.
As wylie Adder lurcks in leaues
and greenest grasse of all,
And stings the stalking Wight that thought
no daunger would befall.
So is the plaine vnplayted man
by subtile dealing guilde
And soonest snarde by subtile shifts
of him that smoothly smilde.
Wee neuer see the frowning Friend
that frets to outwarde showe,
Beguile or seeke to false his Friend,
as doth the fleering Foe:
The Mastife Dog is voyded well
that barcks or ere he bite:
But (oh) the Cur is cruell that
doth neuer barck a whit.
Deale thou as Courtyers daylie doe,
in wordes be franck and free,
Speake fayre and make the weather cleere
to him that gybes with thee.
For so thou shalt assured stande
from hurt to be as farre,
As from the grounde of true good will
those glosing marchaunts are.
A wisedome to beware of Woulfes,
and Foxes guilefull guise:
For tone is craftie by his kinde,
the other passing wise.
So that it is a matter harde
their double drifts to flee:
But yet thou shalt auoyde the wurst
if thou be rulde by mee.

That Death is not so much to be feared as daylie diseases are.

What? yst not follie for to dread
and stande of Death in feare,
That mother is of quiet reast,
and griefes away doth weare?
That brings release to want of welth,
and poore oppressed Wightes?
He comes but once to mortall men,
but once for all he smites.
Was neuer none that twise hath felt
of cruell Death the knife:
But other griefes and pining paines
doe linger on the life,
And oftentimes on selfe same Corse
with furious fits molest,
When Death by one dispatcht of life
doth bring the soule to rest.

The Epicures counsell, eate, drinke, and plaie.

My Friend, where as thou seest thy selfe
to be a man in deede,
Eate, quaffe, and play, with present ioyes
thy greedie fansie feede.
For I (thou seest) am dust become
that earst so welthie was:
I haue that I aliue did eate,
the reast away did passe.
What so I poorde in pampred paunch
and to my guts conuaide,
To gaping grounde with me I bore,
the reast behinde is staide.
My haughtie buildings huge to see,
my Turrets and my traine,
My Horse, my Houndes, my cofred Coine
for others doe remaine.
Wherefore a Myrrour make of mee
and drowne thee in delight:
For Death will sweepe away thy welth
and reaue thy pleasures quight.

The Aunswere to the vile and canckred counsell of the outragious Epicure.

My Friend, for that I see my selfe
to be a man in deede,
Thy quaffing counsell I refuse,
vnlesse to serue my neede.
I muse no whit that thou art dust,
thy beastly lyuing heere
Was meane to bring thee to thy bane,
the sooner for thy cheere.
Thou thoughts to pamper vp thy paunch,
but thou didst feede ywis
The greedie Wormes that gnaw thy guts,
for them a daintie dish.
Good reason that thou shouldst forgo
and leaue thy goods behinde,
For that a beast so lyke a beast
didst liue against thy kinde.
A man in name, no man in deede
thou art that counselst mee
To liue as thou hast liude, and die
a Monster like to thee.
For since thy lyfe so lothsome was,
and shamefull eake thy death:
I will beware, and make a Glasse
of thee whilst I haue breath,
To shunne thy sluttish sinfull Sect,
thy tipling and thy toyes:
For after death those pleasures passe
as did thy fickle ioyes.

Of Homer and his birth.

The Poet Homer Chius claimes,
Colophon doth the leeke:
And Smyrne sweares that he is hirs
that was the learned Greeke.
Of Salamine some say he was,
of Iö other some:
And diuers make report that he
of Thessale line did come.
Thus sundred and deuided are
the peoples mindes of thee,
(Thou Princely Poet) but my thought
with neyther doth agree.
For I assuredly suppose
and deeme the Heauenly Speare
Thy soyle, and Pallas lap the wombe
that did thy body beare.
Hir breast (the Dug) that thou didst suck
in Cradle when thou layst:
With haughtie stile so much (thou Greeke)
thy mazed head dismayst.

That Time conquereth all things, saue the Louers paine.

Was neuer Bull so fell
with wrinckle fronted face,
But Time would make him yeeld to yoke
and toyle the ground apace.
The Horse ybred in Holte
and fed in lustie Lease
In Time will champe the fomie Bit
his Riders will to please.
The Lions that are woode
and raging in their kinde,
By trackt of Time their keepers know
in whome they friendship finde.
Those Beastes that come from Inde
and farthest partes of all,
In Time doe swerue their sauage sect
and to their dutie fall.
Time makes the Grape to growe
and Uine to spreade at large,
So that the skin scarse able is
to holde his inwarde charge:
So Ceres fruite doth sproute
by force of growing Time,
Which makes the strength of hidden seede
into the stalke to clime.
Time makes the tender twig
to bousteous Tree to grow:
It makes the Oke to ouerlooke
the slender shrubs bylow.
It frets the Culter keene
that cuts the froting soyle,
It forceth hardest Flint of all
and Marble to recoyle.
Time wreakefull wrath subdues
it breaketh angers gall,
And eche disease in Time hath helpe:
thus Time doth conquer all.
Though these and other like
by processe are procurde,
Yet naythelesse my festred wounde
can not in Time be curde.
For that which sendeth salue
and comfort to the reast,
Doth cause my ranckling sore to rage
and dubble in my breast.
As Springs that from a Mount
doe take their downewarde sourse,
To whome there may no barre be founde
to stop their headlong course:
So Lordlike Loue ystaulde
and ceazde in yeelding minde
May not be dispossest againe,
such is his stately kinde.

To his Friend riding to Londonwarde.

As Troylus did reioyce
when Cresid yeelded grace,
And dained him from seruice true
so neere hir hart to place:
So haue I ioyde (my Deare)
for friendship which I founde,
And loue requited with the like
which curde my carefull wounde.
And he full shrilly shright
and doolde his wofull chaunce,
On Greekish Steede from Troian towne
when Cresid gan to praunce
And leaue the lyked soyle
where did soiourne hir ioie,
I meane the worthy Troylus
and louingst youth in Troie:
Euen so I waile at thy
departure, would thou wist,
And out I crie a wretched Wight
that thought himselfe yblist.
O London lothsome lodge
why dost thou now procure
My Loue to leaue this pleasant soyle
that hath my hart in cure?
Since needes it must be so
gainsend hir home in hast:
Let hir retire with harmelesse health
that sicklesse hence is past.
Yeelde mee a good account
of hir that is my ioie,
And send hir to hir Troylus
that longs for hir in Troie.

Of the Raine and cloudy weather at the time of his Friends departure from Troie.

Of a couetous Niggard, and a needie Mouse.

A pretie Epigram of a Scholler, that hauing read Vergils Æneidos, maried a curst Wyfe.

A schollar skillde in Vergils Uerse
and reading of his booke
(Arma virumque) that begins,
was caught in Cupids hooke.
At length to mariage flat he fell,
when wedding day was doon,
To play hir prancks, and bob the Foole
the shrowish Wife begoon.
The Husband daylie felt the fistes
and buffets of his Wife:
Untill at last he thus began
to plaine of painefull life.
(Oh Caitiffe mee) the Schollar cryde
well worthy of this wo,
For Arma I Virumque read
in Vergill long ago:
Yet could not see to scape the plague
whereof the Poet spake.
No doubt that Noble Poet for
a Prophet I will take.
For Arma now Virumque I
both day and night sustaine
At home, I neede not runne to Schoole,
to reade the Uerse againe.
Would (Virum) were away, and then
let (Arma) doe their wurst:
But when I matcht with such a shrew
I think I was accurst.

To a yong Gentleman of taking a Wyfe.

Long you with greedie minde to leade a lyfe,
That pleasaunt is in deede, and voyde of care:
I neuer wishe you then to take a Wyfe
Nor set your foote in craftie Cupids snare.
A filthie Trull is yrkesome too the eie,
A gallant girle allures the lookers minde:
A wanton wench will haue the head too die,
An aged Trot to lyke is hard to finde.
A bearing Wyfe with brats will cloy thee sore,
A greater carcke than childrens care is none,
A barraine beast will greeue thee ten times more,
No ioy remaines when hope of fruite is gone.
Wherefore let wyuing go, lyue single aye,
Apply the Booke and bande the Ball among:
A shrew (we see) is wedded in a day
But ere a man can shift his handes tys long.

The Aunswere for taking a Wyfe.

Long you with greedie minde to bleare mine eie
And make mee thinke of marige thus amisse?
I cannot deeme so yll of wyuing I,
To loue and wed for loue is perfite blisse.
A filthy Trull (you say) is lothsome sight,
Put case she be not passing faire to vewe?
If she with vertue doe the want requight
Of comely shape thou hast no cause to rue.
A gallant girle allures the lookers minde,
What shall we say the womans is the shame?
Bicause the cleerest eies by course of kinde
Can not abide the Sunne, is hee to blame?
A wanton wench to die will haue the hed,
Canst thou not see before thou wade so farre?
His be the hurt that lookes not ere he wed,
The Husband may the woman make or marre.
Put case an aged Trot be somewhat tough?
If coyne shee bring the care will be the lesse,
If shee haue store of muck and goods ynough
Thou needste not force so much of handsomnesse.
A bearing Wyfe doth make the husband glad,
A greater ioye than Childrens may not bee:
A barraine wench sometime must needes be had
There doth not fruite spring out of euery tree.
So that I finde no reason, none at all
In that thou wilst a man to single lyfe,
And quite to shun the comfort that may fall
And daylie doth to him that hath a Wyfe.
For sure though some be shrewes as some there be,
(As of the sheepe are some that beare no wull)
Yet must we praise the match whereby we see
The earth maintainde with men, and stored full.
But if you thinke so yll to take a Wyfe,
Let others wed, leade you the single lyfe.

Of a deafe Plaintife, a deafe Defendant, and a deafe Iudge.

By hap a man that could not heare
but borne deafe by kinde,
Another cited to the Court,
much like himselfe to finde,
Whose bearing Sense was quight bereft:
the Iudge that of the Case
Should giue his verdit, was as deafe
as deafest in the place.
To Court they came: the Plaintife praide
to haue the vnpaid rent.
Defendant saide, in grinding I
this wearie night haue spent.
The Iudge behelde them both a while,
is this at last (quoth hee)
Of all your stirred strife the cause?
You both hir children bee:
Then Reason willes, and Law allowes
your Mother should haue aide
At both your handes that are hir Sonnes.
When thus the Iudge had saide,
The People laught a good to heare
this well discussed case
Twixt two deafe men, and thought him fit
to sit in Iudges place
Upon so blinde a matter that
was deafe as any rock:
And thus the simple men were shamde,
the Iustice had a mock.

A promise of olde good will, to an olde friend at the beginning of New yere.

The Chuffes for greedie gaine
and lucers looue expende
Their New yeares gifts vpon their Lorde
as erie yeare hath ende:
But I in token that
the yeare his course hath roon,
And proufe that ioyfull Ianus hath
a nouell yeare begoon:
(As Loue and Dutie willes)
the Herauld of my hart
Here send to you to make a shew
that Friendship shall not start.
Though yeares doe chaunge by course
and alter by their kinde:
My olde good will and faith to slip
I trust you shall not finde.
Timetes will be true,
his loue shall neuer blin:
But gather strength and grow to more
than when it did begin.

A Vow to serue faithfully.

In greene and growing age, in lustie yeeres,
In latter dayes when siluer bush appeeres:
In good and gladsome hap when Fortune serues,
In lowring luck when good auenture swerues
By day when Phœbus shewes his princely pride,
By night when golden Starres in Skies do glide,
In Winter when the groues haue lost their greene
In Sommer when the longest dayes are seene,
In happie helth when sicklesse limmes haue lyfe,
In griefull state, amids my dolors ryfe,
In pleasant peace when Trumpets are away,
In wreakfull warre when Mars doth beare ye sway,
In perillous goulfe amid the sinking sande,
In safer soyle and in the stable lande.
When so you laugh, or else with grimmer grace
You beare your faithfull Friend vnfriendly face,
In good report and time of woorser fame,
I will be yours, yea though I loose the game.

Funerall Verse vpon the death of Sir Iohn Horsey Knight.

To his Friend T: hauing bene long studied and well experienced, and now at length louing a Gentlewoman that forced him naught at all.

An Epitaph vpon the death of the worshipfull Maister Richarde Edwardes late Maister of the Children in the Queenes Maiesties Chappell.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

If teares could tell my thought,
or plaints could paint my paine,
If dubled sighes could shew my smart,
if wayling were not vaine:
If gripes that gnawe my brest
coulde well my griefe expresse,
My teares, my plaints, my sighes, my way-
ling neuer should surcesse.
By meane whereof I might,
vnto the world disclose
The death of such a man (alas)
as chaunced vs to lose.
But what auayles to mone?
If life for life might bee
Restorde againe, I woulde exchaunge
my lyfe for death with thee.
Or if I might some way,
to pay thy rawnsome know,
(O Edwards) then beleue me sure
thou shouldst not lie so low:
That O thou cruell Death,
so fierce with dint of dart
Due curses on my knees I yeelde
to thee with all my hart.
For that it list thee trie
thy foule and cankred spite
On that so rare a peece, on that
so wise and worthy Wight.
Suffisde thee (since thou must
be mad) the simple sort
to slea, or on the brutish blood
of beastes to take thy sport,
And not in furious wise,
with haste and headlong rage
To kill the flowre of all our Realme
and Phænix of our age.
The fact doth crie reuenge,
the Gods repay thine hire,
Deepe darckned Lake of Lymbo lowe,
and still consuming fire.
His death not I but all
good gentle harts doe mone:
O London, though thy griefe be great,
thou dost not mourne alone.
The seate of Muses nine
where fiftene Welles doe flowe,
Whose sprinckling springs and golden streames
ere this thou well didst knowe.
Lament to loose this Plant
for they shall see no more
The braunch that they so long had bred,
whereby they set such store.
O happie House, O Place
of Corpus Christi, thou
That plantedst first, and gauste the roote
to that so braue a bow:
And Christ Church which enioydste
the fruite more rype at fill,
Plunge vp a thousande sighes, for griefe
your trickling teares distill,
Whilst Childe and Chappell dure,
whilst Court a Court shall bee,
(Good Edwards) eche estate shall much
both want and wishe for thee.
Thy tender Tunes and Rimes
wherein thou woontst to play
Eche princely Dame of Court and Towne
shall beare in minde alway.
Thy Damon and his Friend,
Arcyte and Palemon
With moe full fit for Princes eares,
though thou from earth art gone,
Shall still remaine in fame,
and lyke so long to bide
As earthly things shall liue, and God
this mortall Globe shall guide.
For loe, thus Uertue list,
hir Pupils to aduaunce:
Yet for my part I would that God
had giuen thee better chaunce.
A longer time on earth,
thy hastned death before,
But Edwardes now farewell for teares
will let me write no more.
Well may thy bones be lodgde
thy fame abroade may flie,
Thy sacred soule possesse a place
aboue the starrie Skie.

To his Loue that sent him a Ring wherein was graude, Let Reason rule.

To his Friend Francis Th: leading his lyfe in the Countrie at his desire.

My Francis, whilst you breath your foming steede
Athwart the fields in peace to practise warre,
In Countrie whilst your keneld Hounds doe feede,
Or in the wood for taken pray doe iarre:
Whilst you with Haukes the sielie Foule doe slaye,
And take delight a quick retriue to haue,
To flee to marke, and heare the Spanels baye
Wasting your age in pleasure passing braue:
In Citie I my youthfull yeares doe spende,
At Booke perhaps sometime to weare the day:
Where man to man not friend to friend doth lende,
With vs is naught but pitch (my Friend) and pay.
Great store of Coyne, but fewe enioy the same,
The owners holde it fast with lymed handes,
We liue by losse, we play and practise game
Wee by and sell, the streate is all our landes.
Well storde we are of erie needefull thing.
Wood, Water, Coale, Flesh, Fishe we haue ynow:
(What lack you) Wyues and Maides doe daylie sing
The Horne is rife, it sticks on many a brow.
But yet (I say) the Countrie hath no peere,
The Towne is but a toyle, and wearie lyfe:
We like your Countrie sportes (Friend Francis) heere,
The Citie is a place of bate and strife.
Wherefore I thinke thee wise and full of thrift
That fledst the Towne, and hast that blessed gift.

To a Gentlewoman that alwayes willed him to weare Rosemarie, (a Tree that is alwayes greene,) for hir sake, and in token of his good will to hir.

An Epitaph of the Ladie Br.

Of the time he first began to loue and after how he forewent the same.

The assured promise of a constant Louer.

When Phenix shall haue many Makes,
And Fishes shun the Siluer Lakes:
When Woulfes and Lambes yfeare shall play,
And Phœbus cease to shine by day:
When Grasse on Marble stone shall groe,
And euerie man imbrace his foe:
When Moles shall leaue to dig the grounde,
And Hares accorde with hatefull Hounde:
When Lawrell leaues shall loose their hue,
And men of Crete be counted true:
When Vulcan shall be colde as Ise,
Coræbus eake approoued wise:
When Pan shall passe Appollos skill,
And Fooles of fansies haue their fill:
When Hawkes shall dread the sielie Fowle,
And men esteeme the nightish Owle:
When Pearle shall be of little price,
And golden Uertue friend to Uice:
When Fortune hath no chaunge in store,
Then will I false and not before.
Till all these Monsters come to passe
I am Timetes as I was.
My Loue as long as lyfe shall last,
Not forcing any Fortunes blast.
No threat, nor thraldome shall preuaile
To cause my fayth one iote to faile,
But as I was, so will I bee,
A Louer and a Friend to thee.

The Pine to the Mariner.

O man of little Wit,
What meanes this frantick fit,
To make thy Ship of mee
That am a slender Tree,
Whome erie blast that blowes
Full lightly ouerthrowes?
Doth this not mooue thy minde
That rage of roring winde
Did beate my boughes agood
When earst I grue in Wood?
How can I here auoyde
The foe that there anoyde?
Thinkst thou now I am made
A Uessell for thy trade,
I shall be more at ease
Amid the flasshing Seas?
I feare if Æole frowne,
Both thou and I shall drowne.

[The Pine to the Mariner] Againe otherwise.

A uassell to the winde
when earst I grew in wood,
How shall I fauour finde
now fleeting in the flood?
For there whilst reaching rootes did holde
I thought I mought be somewhat bolde,
But now that I am cut
and framde another way,
And to this practise put
in daunger erie day.
I feare the force of cruell foe,
my ribbes are thin, my sides be lowe
But if thou venter life,
then I will hazard lim,
For thee is all my griefe,
for lightly I shall swim:
Though top and tackle all be torne,
yet I aloft the surge am borne.

To an olde Gentlewoman, that painted hir face.

Leaue off good Beroe now
to sleeke thy shriuled skin,
For Hecubes face will neuer be,
as Helens hue hath bin.
Let Beautie go with youth,
renownce the glosing Glasse,
Take Booke in hand: that seemely Rose
is woxen withred Grasse.
Remooue thy Pecocks plumes
thou cranck and curious Dame:
[illeg.] other Trulls of tender yeares
resigne the flagge of Fame.

Of one that had a great Nose.

Stande with thy Nose against
the Sunne with open chaps,
And by thy teeth we shall discerne
what tis a clock perhaps.

Of one whose Nose was greater than his hand.

O Proclus, tis in vaine
that thou about dost stande,
For well I see thou mindste to wipe
thy Nares with thy hande.
Truth is that though thou be
fowle fisted out of frame:
Yet doth this tossing Nose of thine
in bignesse passe the same.
When neezing thou on Ioue
for succour seemste to crie
Thou canst not heare, thy Nose debarres
the noyse to Eare to flie.
It beateth back the sounde,
it standes in middle place
Twixt Eare and Mouth, but sure it castes
a shade to all the face.

Of a Nightingale that flue to Colche to sit abroode.

Thou sielie foule what meanes this foolish paine,
to flie to Colche too hatch thy chickins there?
A Mother thou mayst hap returne againe,
Medæa will destroie thy broode I feare.
For shee that spared not to spoile hir owne,
Wil she stand friend to Fowles yt are vnknowne?

Againe of the Nightingale.

What (Philomela) meanes this fond intent
To hatch thy broode in fell Medæas lap?
What? doste thou hope hir rigor will relent
Towarde thy Babes, that gaue hir owne no pap?
But slue them all at once, and at a clap?
I wote not what thou meanste: vnlesse that shee
Should kill thy Brats, too make the Mother free.

Of a contrarie mariage.

An aged Trot and tough
did marrie with a Lad:
Againe, a Gallant Girle to
hir Spouse, a Graybeard had,
A monstrous match (God wote)
for others she doth wed:
And he bestowes his seede on ground
that lets it take no hed.
In fayth, a foolish choyce,
for neither hath his wishe:
For tone doth lack his wife, and to-
ther feedes on filthie fishe.

Of Dronkennesse.

At night when Ale is in,
like friends we part to bed:
In morrow graye when Ale is out,
then hatred is in hed.

Againe of Dronkennesse.

Men hauing quaft
are friendly ouernight:
In dawning drie
a man too man a spright.

Of the picture of a vaine Rhetorician.

This Rufe his Table is,
can nothing be more true:
If Rufus holde his peace, this peece
and he are one to vewe.

Of the fond discord of the two Theban brothers, Octcocles and Polynices.

In death you part the fire,
you cut the cruell flame:
If so you had deuided Thebes
you might enioyde the same.

Of a maruellous deformed man.

To drawe the minde in Table to the sight
Is hard: to paint the lims is counted light:
But now in thee these two are nothing so,
For Nature splayes thy minde to open show.
We see by proofe of thy vnthriftie deedes,
The couert kinde from whence this filth proceedes.
But who can paint those shapelesse lims of thine,
When eche to vewe thy Carcasse doth repine?

A Myrrour of the fall of Pride.

Sometime the Giants did rebell
against the mightie Ioue,
They thought in Olymp Mount to dwell
and long for that they stroue.
A hundred handes eche Monster had
by course of curssed kinde:
A stock so stubborne and so mad
I no where else can finde.
Dame Tellus was their Mother thought
of pleasant Poets all,
By whome they would haue brought to nought
the seate Olympicall.
First Briareus began the broyle
who tooke a hill in hand,
And layde it on another soyle
that thereabout did stand:
Still calling on his monstrous Mates
exhorting them the same,
And with the reast the Gnuffe debates
how stately Gods to tame.
Ossa was layde on Pyndus back,
and Pelion on hie:
And thus they thought to bring to sack
in time the starrie Skie.
They did enuie the Gods the place
by nature them assignde:
And thought it meeter for a race
which Tellus bred by kinde.
They would haue had the highest throne
that Ioue had long possest:
And downe they would the Gods haue throwne
and Princely powre represt.
At length the route began to rore
in making dreadfull sound,
The like was neuer heard before
to Heauen from the ground.
Then Iupiter began to gaze
and looke about the Skie,
And all the Gods were in a maze
the Monsters were so nie.
They callde a counsaile then in haste
the Gods assembled tho:
And common sentence was at last
that mightie Ioue should throw
His thunderbolt that Vulcan lame
prepared for the nonce,
Whereby he might eftsoone make tame
the haughtie Giants bones.
Then might you see the Mountaines fall
and hill from hill depart,
And monsters in the valley crawle
whome Thunder did subuart.
The Mountaines were not raysde so quick
but downe they fell as fast:
And Giants in a cluster thick
to Tellus fell at last.
Such plagues had pride in former time,
the Gods abhorred so
That mortall men should dare to clime
the Heauens hie to know.
And not alone the heauenly route
the loftie lookes correct
Of such as prowdly go about
their Empire to reiect:
But other Gods of meaner state
(of whome the Poets write)
Such pieuish Pecocks pride doe hate
and seeke reuenge by might.
The grisly God whome flouds obay
and drenching Seas imbrace,
Who in the waters beares the sway
where Nereus shewes his face:
Whome forceth he by surge of Seas
into Charybdis cliues?
Or whome doth Neptune most disease?
or whome to Scylla driues?
Not him that beares his Sailes alowe,
nor him that keepes the shoare:
Ne yet the Bargeman that doth rowe
with long and limber Oare.
Not those that haunt the Hauen sure
and port of perill voide,
They cannot Neptunes wrath procure
the Chanell that auoide:
But those that voide of carck and care
and feare of Neptunes yre,
Doe hoise their Sailes and neuer spare
to further their desyre,
And doe receiue whole Gales of winde
from mightie Æole sent:
Those, those are they by course of kinde
that Neptune makes repent.
He spoiles the Sailes, and tackle teares,
the Mast it goes to wrack:
The Ribbes they rent, the Shipmen feares
when Gables gin to crack.
Then whereto serues the Pilats pride
that hoyst his Sailes so hie?
And where is he that fearde no tide
nor threatning from the Skie?
His pride procurde his fearefull fate
and fortune that befell
Which Neptune most of all doth hate
as Shipmen know right well.
Let Giants fall and Shipmens case
a myrrour be therefore
To such as seeke to hie a place,
for like shall be their lore.
Narcissus may example bee
and myrrour to the prowde,
By whome they may most plainly see
how pride hath beene allowde.
His beautie braue such loftie cheere
in him did breede in time:
That Gods themselues agreeued were
with such a haynous crime.
No loouing Lasse might him allure,
nor Dians Nymphes at all
By ought his friendship might procure:
but note ye well his fall.
In Sommer time as Fortune would
his Fortune was to bee
In open fielde, where no man could
his blazing beautie see.
At length in raunging to and fro
his fortune was to finde
A Fountaine freshe that there did flow
as Gods (I think) assignde.
He thought forthwith his thirst to quent
by pleasant trauaile gote,
But there he found or ere he went
a greater drought God wote.
In stooping downe to take the taste
of Christall waters theare,
(Unhappie Boy) had spide at last
a little Boy appeare.
Whose beautie braue, and liking looke
his fansie pleasde so well,
That there himselfe the Boy forsooke
and to a frensie fell.
He had that he so fondly looude:
and yet it was not so:
And from himselfe he was remooude
that thence did neuer go.
He was the Boy that tooke the vewe,
he was the Boy espide,
And being both he neither knewe,
such was the ende of pride.
Then gan he shed his teares adowne,
then gan he make his plaint:
And then at length he fell to grounde
sore feebled all with faint.
His spirite that earst so prowde was seene
conuerted into winde:
But of his Corps a flower greene
still there abode behinde.
Narcissus callde (as Poets tell)
as Narcisse was before,
In token that to Narcisse fell
this most vnhappie lore.
I could recite the histories
of many other moe,
Whome pieuish pride the miseries
of Fortune forst to knowe.
But I of purpose will let passe
Apollos Bastard Sonne,
Who Phaeton ycleped was
when first his fame begonne.
I minde not to rehearse at all
the charge he tooke in hande,
I wittingly omit his fall
into Eridan sande.
But this I say assuredly
had it not beene for pride,
The Charret had not gone awrie
though Phaeton were guide.
But glorie vaine and want of skill
enforste his haughtie hart,
Of Phœbe to craue to worke his will
in ruling Phæbus Cart.
The like attempt tooke Icarus
from Creta that did flie
By wings of War with Dedalus,
when Icar flue to hie.
His Fathers words preuailed not
nor lesson taught before,
Till fained fethers were so whot
as he could flie no more.
For want of wings then gan he clap
his breast with open armes
Till downe he fell: such was his hap,
whose pride procurde his harmes.
When wrastling windes from Æole sent
befight themselues so long
That East against the West is bent,
and North puts South to wrong:
Then may you heare the Pine to crack
that beares his hed so hie,
And loftie lugs go then to wrack
which seeme to touch the Skie.
When Ioue flings downe his thundring bolts
our vices to redresse,
They batter downe the highest holts
and touch not once the lesse.
The Cotte is surer then the Hall
in proofe we daylie see:
For highest things doe soonest fall
from their felicitee.
What makes the Phænix flame with fire
a Birde so rare in sight?
What causeth him not to retire
from Phæbus burning light?
In faith if he woulde liue belowe
as Birds Dame Nature tought,
The Esterlings should neuer knowe
their Phœnix burnt so oft.
All ye therefore that suretie looue
and would not haue a fall,
From you the Peacocks pride remooue
and trust not Fortunes Ball.
Let Phaetons fate be fearde of you
and Icars lot also:
Remember that the Pine doth rue
that he so high doth grow.

Of the Clock and the Cock.

Good reason thou allow
one letter more to mee
Than to the Cock: For Cocks doe sleepe
when Clocks doe wake for thee.

Of a Tayler.

Though Tayler cut thy garment out of frame,
And strie thy stuffe by sowing it amis:
Yet must we say the Tayler makes the same,
To make and marre is one with them ywis.

The Louer finding his Loue flitted from wonted troth leaues to write in prayse of hir.

Though cleane contrarie be my Uerse
to those I wrote before,
Yet let not retchlesse doome accuse
my wandring wits the more.
As time doth shape and shew (they say)
so ought our stile to frame,
In Sommer, Sunne, we neede no fire,
yet winter asketh flame:
So I that earst found cause of sport
and matter to reioyce,
Of force by fansie was procurde
to vse a gladsome voyce.
And now since deepe dispaire hath drencht
my hope, I will assay
To turne my tune and chaunge my cheere
and leaue my woonted lay.
Not farre vnlike the chirping Foule
in Sommer that doth sing,
And during Winter hides his head
till next returne of Spring.
They say when altred is the cause
of force effect doth sue:
As new repaire of better bloud
doth cause a Hawke to mue.
Though Ætna burne by kindly course
and belke out fire with fume:
When Sulpher vaine is cleane extinct
the fire will consume.
Whereby I may conclude aright
that eche Effect must bee
As is his Cause: so fruite ensues
the nature of the Tree.
Then I of force must shape my stile
as matter is I write:
Unlesse I would be thought to match
a Fawcon with a Kite.
When winde and waue at Sea doe rore
that Barck is in distresse,
Then time requires that shipmen should
their Tackles all addresse.
Then crooked Ancors must be cast
the shaken Ship to stay
From sincking Sands, and ruthlesse Rocks
that Shipmen oft affray.
No sooner Triton blowes his Trumpe
and swolen waters quailes,
And Æole makes his windes retire:
but hoyse they vp the sailes.
Then fleete they forward in the floud,
then cut they waues in twaine:
Then launch they on (as earst they did)
with all their might and maine:
So I hereafter must assay
my woonted tune to chaunge
As time requires, and I in loue
shall finde my Ladie straunge.
If she be one of Cresids crue
and swarue hir former Hest,
No Lucrece must I terme hir then,
for that were but a iest.
Or if she false hir fixed fayth,
Vlysses wiues renowne
Unfitting is for hir whose loue
endureth but a stowne.
Wherefore, I will as time shall shape
and she hir loue prolong,
Applie my Pen, and tell the troth
as best I may in Song.

He sorrowes other to haue the fruites of his seruice.

Some men would looke to haue
a recompence of paine,
And Reason wills it so to be
vnlesse we list to faine:
Some would expect for loue
to haue vnfained hart,
And think it but a fit reward
for such a good desart.
But I (vnhappie Wight)
that spend my loue in vaine,
Doe seeke for succour at hir hands
while other get the gaine.
As thirstie ground doth gape
to swallow in the shoure:
Euen so fare I poore Harpalus
whome Cupids paines deuoure.
I holde the Hiue in hande
and paine my selfe thereby,
While other eate the hidden foode
that are not halfe so dry.
I plough the soyle with paine
and cast my seede thereon:
And other come that sheare the sheaues
and laugh when I am gon.
Mine is the Winters toile,
and theirs the Sommers gaine:
The Haruest falles out too their share
that felt no part of paine.
I beare the pinching yoke
and burden on my back,
And other driue when I must draw,
and thus I go to wrack.
I fast when other feede,
I thirst when other drinck:
I mourne when they triumph for ioy,
they swim when I must sinck.
They haue the hoped gaine
whiles I the losse indure:
They whole at hart, whilst I my griefe
by no meanes can recure.
They shrowd themselues in shade,
I sit in open Sunne:
They leape as Lambes in lustie Leaze,
I lie as one vndunne.
They taste their nightly rest,
my troubled head doth wake:
I tosse and turne from side to side
while they their pleasure take.
I would, but they enioy,
I craue that is debard,
They haue: what will you more I say?
their seruice is prefard.
Thus I procure my woe
by framing them their ioy:
In seeking how to salue my sore
I breede my chiefe annoy.
So sheepe with wooll are clad
their Maisters haue the gaine,
So Birds doe builde their Nests on Brakes
and put themselues to paine,
But other taste the fruite
when so their broode is hatcht:
The Nest remaines, the Birds are gone,
the Chickens are dispatcht.
So Bees for Honnie toile
in fleeing too and fro,
And sillie wretches take great paines
for whome they little know.
I think it is procurde
by griesly Gods aboue
That some should gape, and other gaine
the fruit of others loue.
But sure if Womans will
be forger of my wo,
And not the mightie Gods ordaine
my destnie to be so:
Then must I needes complaine
and cursse their cruell kinde,
That in requitall of good will
doe shew themselues vnkinde.
But whether be the cause,
hereafter I intende
To fawne on them that force on mee,
and bowe when other bende.
This one abuse shall make
me take the better heede
On whome I fixe my fansie fast,
or make a friend in deede.

The Louer seeing himselfe abusde, renounceth Loue.

Though men account it shame
and folly to repent,
Or grutcht good will that was bestowde
when nought saue faith was ment:
Yet can they not denie
but if the knot be burst,
Then may we shew our selues vnkinde
that friendly were at furst.
He runnes an endlesse race
that neuer turnes againe,
And he a fonded Louer is
that wastes his loue in vaine.
Nought can he iudge of hues,
that can not see when Guile
In place of friendship cloakes hir selfe
in forme of forged wile.
And he that plainely sees
the Trap before his eie
And will not shun from perill, tis
no matter though he die.
I tell my tale by proufe
I speake it not by rot,
To loue a subtile Lasse of late
was fallen to my lot.
On whome I set such store
such comfort and delight,
As life it was to see hir face,
a death to want hir sight.
So I might doe the thing
that might abridge hir smart,
And bannish all annoy that grue
by froward fortunes Art:
What daunger would I dread?
or perill seeme to shun?
None that is here bylow on earth
or subiect to the Sun.
To shew my selfe a Friend
to hir, I was my Foe:
She was the onely Idoll whome
I honorde here belowe.
This is (thought I) the same
that was Vlysses wife:
Who in the absence of hir Make
did leade a dolefull life.
Or else tis she at least
whome Tarquyn did enforce
By beastly rape with piercing sworde
so to fordoe hir Corse.
But such is hir abuse
so frowarde eke hir grace,
As loue it may no longer last
since friendship hides his face.
I did not well aduise
I built on sincking Sande,
And when I thought she looude me best
shee bore me but in hande.
Where I had thought a Porte
and Hauen sure to bee:
There founde I hap and dreadfull death,
as gazers on may see.
As Mouse that treades the trap
in hope to finde repast,
And bites the bread that breedes his bane
and is intrapped fast:
Like was my dolefull case
that fed vpon my wo,
Till now Repentance willes mee all
such fansies to forgo.
And (thanked be good hap)
now once againe I fleete
And swim aloft, that sanck of late
fast hampred by the feete.
Now is my fortune good
so Fortune graunt it last:
And I as happie as the best
now stormie cloudes are past,
I finde the bottom firme
and stable where I passe,
There are no haughtie Rocks at hande
ne yet no ground of Glasse.
Good Ancor holde I haue
so I may vse it still,
I am no more a bounden Thrall
but free I liue at will.
But that which most torments
my minde, and reaues my ioy
Is, for I serude a fickle Wench
that bred mee this annoy,
But Gods forgiue my guilt
and time mispent before
And I will be a sillie Sot
of Cupids crue no more.

Against the Ielous heads that alwayes haue Louers in suspect.

That it is hurtfull to conceale secrets from our Friendes.

A smart in silence kept
(as Ouid doth expresse)
Doth more torment the payned man
than him that seekes redresse.
For then it respite takes,
and leysure to procure
Such mischiefe as for want of helpe
the longer doth endure.
As if thou set no salue
where ranckleth swelling sore,
It will in further processe paine,
and thee torment the more.
I sundrie times haue seene
a wound that earst was small,
In time for want of Surgions sight
to greater mischiefe fall:
And eke the balefull blowe
so grieuous that was thought,
Full quickly curde by Surgions sleight
if he were quickly sought.
So fareth it by man,
that keepes in couert breast
The pinching paine that breedes within,
increasing great vnreast:
That neuer will disclose
the secret of his hart,
But rather suffer feruent fits
and deeper piercing smart.
For why was friendship founde
and quickly put in vre,
But that th'one of thothers helpe
should thinke himselfe full sure?
Why are they like in minde
and one in erie part?
Why are they twoo in bodies twaine
possessing but one hart?
And why doth one mislike,
that so offendes his Feere,
But that they two are one in deede
it plainely might appeere?
Did Tullie euer dreade
his secrets to disclose
To Atticus his louing Friende,
in whome he did repose
Such credit and such trust
and in himselfe he might,
To whome full oft with painfull Pen
this Tullie did indight?
What euer Theseus thought
Perythous coulde tell,
With wearie trauell that pursude
his louing friende to Hell.
Was Damon daintie founde
to Pythias at all,
For whome he woulde with Tyran staide
as pledge to liue in thrall?
In Pylades was nought
but that Orestes knewe,
Who priuie was from time to time
how care or comfort grewe.
Gysippus felt no griefe
but Titus boade the same:
And where that Titus founde reliefe
their Gysippe had his game.
When Lælius did laugh
then Scipio did ioy:
And what Menetus Sonne mislikte
Achylles did annoy.
Æurialus his thoughts
and secrets of his hart
To Nysus would declare at large,
were they of ioy or smart.
All these conioyned were
in surest league of looue,
Whome neyther Fortune good or bad,
nor Death might once remooue.
They would not think in minde
nor practise that at all:
But to that same their trustie Friends
they would in counsell call.
All those therefore that wishe
their inward paines redresse,
Must to their most assured Friend
it outwardly expresse.
So may they chaunce to finde
a salue for secret sore,
Which otherwise in couert kept
will soone increase to more.

Of the diuers and contrarie passions and affections of his Loue.

To Phisick those that long haue gone
and spent their time in griefe,
Affirme that Pacients in their paines
will shun their best reliefe.
They will refuse the Tysants taste
and wholesome drinkes despise,
Which to recure diseases fell
Phisitions did deuise:
But when they be debard the same
which so they shunde before,
They crie and call for Tysants then
as soueraigne for their sore.
Such is the wayward guise of those
with pangues that are opprest,
They wish for that they neuer had,
and shun that they possest.
I may to them right well compare
the Louers diuers thought,
That likes, and then mislikes againe
that they long earst had sought.
They will not, when they may, enioy
their harts desired choise:
They then defie, they then detest
with lowde and lothsome voice.
They will refuse when time doth serue,
but when such time is gone,
They sigh and schreach with mournefull crie
and make a ruthfull mone.
They little think that Time hath wings
or knoweth how to flie:
They hope to haue it still at hande
that swiftly passeth bie.
They thinke that Time will tarie them
and for their fansie stay,
But Time in little time is gone
it fleeteth fast away.
So standes the foole by fleeting floud
and looketh for a turne:
But Riuer runnes and still will run
and neuer shape returne.
What? doe they hope that beauties glasse
will still continue bright?
Nay, when the day is gone and past
by course appeeres the night.
For crooked age his woonted trade
is for to plough the face
With wrinckled furrowes, that before
was chiefe of Beauties grace.
Perhaps they thinke that men are mad,
and once intrapt in loue
Will neuer striue to breake the snare
nor neuer to remoue.
No Fowler that had wylie Wit
but will foresee such hap,
That Birds will alway buske and bate
and scape the Fowlers Trap.
And if their fortune fauor so,
then who doth mount so hie
As those that guilefull Pitfall tooke
prepared for to die?
What Fish doth fleete so fast as that
which lately hangde on hooke?
By happie hap if he escape,
he will not backwarde looke.
Take time therefore thou foolish Feeme,
whilst Time doth serue so well:
For Time away as fast doth flee
as any sound of Bell.
And thou perhaps in after Time
when Time is past and gone,
Shall lie lamenting losse of Time
as colde as any stone.
Yet were thou better take thy time
whilst yet thy Beautie serues,
For Beautie as the Flower fades
whome lack of Phœbus sterues.

Of Dido and the truth of hir death.

Of Venus in Armour.

In complete Pallas saw
the Ladie Venus stande:
Who said, let Paris now be iudge
encounter we with hande.
Replide the Goddesse: what?
scornste thou in Armour mee,
That naked earst in Ida Mount
so foylde and conquerde thee?

Of a Hare complaining of the hatred of Dogs.

The scenting Hounds pursude
the hastie Hare of foote:
The sillie Beast to scape the Dogs
did iumpe vpon a roote.
The rotten scrag it burst,
from Cliffe to Seas he fell:
Then cride the Hare: vnhappie mee,
for now perceiue I well
Both lande and Sea pursue
and hate the hurtlesse Hare:
And eake the dogged Skies aloft,
if so the Dog be thare.

To one that painted Eccho.

To a cruell Dame for grace and pittie.

As I doe lack the skill
to show my faithfull hart:
So doe you want good will
too rue your Louers smart.
The greater is my fire
the lesser is your heate:
The more that I desire
the lesse you seeme to sweate.
O quench not so the Coale
of this my faithfull flame,
With nayes thou frowarde soule,
let yeas increase the same.
Let vs at length agree
whome Cupid made by law
Eche others friend to bee
in fansies yoke to draw.
If I doe plaie my part
at any time amis,
Then doe bestowe thy hart
where greater Friendship is.
But if in true good will
I beare my selfe vpright,
Let mee enioy thee still
my seruice too requight.
Go thou my fierie Dart
of scalding whote desire
To pierce hir ysie hart
and set hir brest on fire.
That I may both prolong
my painefull pyning dayes,
And eke auendge hir wrong
that paine for pleasure payes.
I neuer sawe the stone
but often drops would wast:
Nor Dame but daylie mone
would make hir yeelde at last.

To a Gentlewoman from whome he tooke a Ring.

What needes this frowning face?
what meanes your looke so coye?
Is all this for a Ring,
a trifle and a toye?
What though I reft your Ring?
I tooke it not to keepe:
Therefore you neede the lesse
in such dispite to weepe.
For Cupid shall be iudge
and Umpire in this case,
Or who by hap shall next
approche into this place.
You tooke from mee my hart,
I caught from you a Ring:
Whose is the greatest losse?
where ought the griefe to spring?
Keepe you as well my hart,
as I will keepe your Ring,
And you shall iudge at last
that you haue lost nothing.
For if a Friendly hart
so stuft with staide looue,
In value doe not passe
the Ring you may reprooue
The reauing of the same,
and I of force must say
That I deserude the blame
who tooke your Ring away.
But what if you doe wreake
your malice on my hart?
Then giue mee leaue to thinke
you guiltie for your part.
And when so ere I yeelde
to you your Ring againe,
Restore me vp my hart
that now you put to paine.
For so we both be pleasde,
to say we may be bolde
That neyther to the losse
of vs hath bought or solde.

The Louer blames his Tongue that failed to vtter his sute in time of neede.

That all things are as they are vsed.

Was neuer ought by Natures Art
Or cunning skill so wisely wrought,
But Man by practise might conuart
Too worser vse then Nature thought.
Ne yet was euer thing so ill
Or may be of so small a prise,
But man may better it by skill
And chaunge his sort by sounde aduise.
So that by proofe it may be seene
That all things are as is their vse,
And man may alter Nature cleene,
And things corrupt by his abuse.
What better may be founde than flame,
Too Nature that doth succor paie?
Yet we doe oft abuse the same
In bringing buildings to decaie.
For those that minde to put in vre
Their malice, mooude to wrath and ire:
To wreake their mischiefe, will be sure
Too spill and spoyle thy house with fire.
So Phisick that doth serue for ease
And to recure the grieued soule,
The painefull Patient may disease,
And make him sick that earst was whole.
The true Man and the Theefe are leeke
For sworde doth serue them both at neede,
Saue one by it doth safetie seeke
And th'other of the spoile to speede.
As Law and learning doth redresse
That otherwise would go to wrack:
Euen so doth it oft times oppresse
And bring the true man to the rack.
Though Poyson paine the drinker sore
By boyling in his fainting breast,
Yet is it not refusde therefore,
For cause sometime it breedeth reast:
And mixt with Medicines of proofe
According to Machaons Arte,
Doth serue right well for our behoofe
And succor sends to dying harte.
Yet these and other things were made
By Nature for the better vse,
But we of custome take a trade
By wilfull will them to abuse.
So nothing is by kinde so voide
Of vice, and with such vertue fraught,
But it by vs may be anoide,
And brought in trackt of time too naught
Againe there is not that so ill
Bylowe the Lampe of Phœbus light,
But man may better if he will
Applie his wit to make it right.

The Louer excuseth himselfe for renowncing his Loue and Ladie, imputing the same to his fate and constellation.

Though Dydo blamde Æneas truth
for leauing Carthage shore,
Where he well entertainde had beene,
and like a Prince before:
Though Theseus were vnthriftie thought
and of a cruell race,
That in rewarde of death escapte
by Aryadnas Lace,
Amid the desart woods so wilde
his loouing Lasse forsooke,
Whome by good hap and luckie lore
the drowsie Bacchus tooke.
Yet if the Iudges in this case
their verdit yeelde aright,
Nor Theseus nor Æneas fact
deserue such endlesse spight,
As waywarde Women stirde to wrath
beare fixed fast in minde,
Still seeking wayes to wreake their yre
vpon Æneas kinde.
For neither lack of liking loue,
nor hope of greater gaine,
Nor fickle fansies force vs men
to breake off friendships chaine.
They loth not that they looude before,
they hate not things possest:
Some other weightie cause they haue
of chaunge, as may be gest.
And waying with my selfe eche one,
I can none fitter finde,
Than that to men such blessed hap
is by the Gods assignde.
The golden Starres that guide their age,
and Planets will them so:
And Gods (the Rulers of their race)
procure them to forgo
Their forged faith and plighted truth,
with promise made so sure,
That is too seeming strong as Steele,
and likely to endure.
For did not mightie Ioue himselfe
the swift Cyllenus sende
To will the Troyan Prince in haste
into Italia bende
And leaue the lyked lande so well,
and Carthage Queene forsake,
That made him owner of hir hart,
and all that shee could make?
And such was Theseus lot perdie,
so hard the Maydens hap,
That shee in desart should be left
and caught in Bacchus trap.
Should Iason be proclaimde and cride
a Traitor to the Skies
For that he Medea left at last
by whome he wan the Flise?
No, such was Oetes Daughters chaunce
in Cradle hir assignde,
And Iasans Birthstarre forst the Greeke
to showe himselfe vnkinde:
For if rewardes might binde so fast,
and knit the knot so sure,
Their faith (no doubt) and lincked loue
should then of force endure.
For Dido gaue him Carthage Kayes,
the wealth, and soile withall:
Those other two preserude their liues
that else had liude in thrall.
Then sithens streaming Starres procure,
and fatall powers agree,
And stawled Gods doe condiscend
that I my friendship flee:
And reaue your Bells and cast you off
to liue in haggards wies,
That for no priuate stale doe care,
but loue to range the Skies:
I must not seeme then to rebell
nor secret Treason forge,
But chaunge my choyce, and leaue my looue
and fansies fonde disgorge.
I craue of Cupid Lorde of loue
a pardon for the same,
For that I now reiect his lawes
and quite renownce his game.

Of Ladie Venus, that hauing lost hir Sonne Cupid God of Loue, and desirous to vnderstand of him againe, declares by the way the nature of Loue and affections of the same, by pretie discription as followeth.

What time the Ladie Uenus sought hir little Sonne
That Cupid hight, & found him not, she thus begonne
My friends (quoth she) if any chaunce in open streete
Or crossing pathes, yt wandring amorous Elfe to meete,
That Runnagate (I say) is mine: who so by hap
Shall first bring tidings of the Boy, in Uenus lap
Is sure to sit, and haue in price of taken paine,
A sugred kisse. But he that brings him home againe,
A busse? yea not a busse alone doubtlesse shall haue
But like a Friend I will entreate him passing braue.
I tell you tis a proper youth. Marke euery Lim
And member of my straid Sonne that is so trim.
Not sallow white his bodie is, but like to flame,
A fierce and fierie roling eie sets out the same.
A mischieuous wylie hart in Breast the Boy doth beare,
But yet his wordes are Honnie like and sweete to eare.
His talking tongue and meaning minde asunder goe,
Smooth filed stile for little cost he will bestowe.
But being once inflamde with ire and raging wrath,
A cruell canckred dogged hart the Urchin hath.
False Foxely subtile Boy, and glosing lying Lad,
He sports to outward sight, but inward chafes like mad.
A curled Sconce he hath, with angrie frowning browe.
A little hand, yet Dart a cruell way can throwe.
To shadie Acheron sometime he flings the same,
And deepest damp of hollow Hell those Impes to tame.
Upon his Carkasse not a cloth, but naked hee
Of garments goes, his minde is wrapt, and not to see.
Much like a fethred Foule he flies, & wags his wings
Now here now there: ye man somtime this Miser wrings
Sometimes againe the Lasse to loue he doth enforce,
Of neither kind, nor man nor maid, he hath remorce:
A little Bow the Boy doth beare in tender hande,
And in the same an Arrow nockt to string doth stand.
A slender Shaft, yet such a one as farre will flie,
And being shot from Cupids Bow will reach the Skie,
A pretie golden Quiuer hangs there albehinde
Upon his back, wherein who so doth looke, shall finde
A sort of sharpe and lurching shafts, vnhappie Boy
Wherewith his Ladie Mother eke he doth annoy
Sometimes: but most of all the foolish fretting Elfe
In cruell wise doth cruelly torment and vex himselfe.
Doe beate the Boy and spare him not at all, if thou
On him doe chaunce to light: although frō childish brow
And moysted eies the trickling teares like flouds distill,
Beleeue him not, for chiefly then beguile he will.
Not if he smile vnlose his pyniond armes take heede,
With pleasāt honie words though he thine eares doe feede
And craue a kisse, beware thou kisse him not at all:
For in his lips vile venom lurcks, and bitter Gall.
Or if with friendly face he seeme to yeelde his Bow
And shafts to thee, his proferde gifts (my Friend) forgo
Touch not with tender hand the subtile flattring Dart
Of Loue, for feare the fire thereof doe make thee smart.

Of the cruell hatred of Stepmothers.

The Sonne in lawe his Stepdame being dead,
Began hir Hierce with Garlands to cōmende:
Meanewhile there fell a stone vpon his head
From out the Tombe that brought the Boy abed,
A proofe that Stepdames hate hath neuer ende.

[Of the cruell hatred of Stepmothers] Againe.

Glad was ye sonne of frowning Beldams death,
To witnesse ioy to deck hir Tomb gan trudge:
A peece of Marbell fell and reft his breath
As he (good Lad) stoode strewing flowres beneath,
A signe yt Death dawnts not the mothers grudge.

To Cupid for reuenge of his vnkind and cruell Loue. Declaring his faithfull seruice and true hart both to the God of Loue and his Ladie.

If I had beene in Troyan ground
When Ladie Venus tooke hir wound:
If I in Greekish campe had beene,
Or clad in armour had beene seene:
If Hector had by mee beene slaine,
Or Prince Æneas put to paine:
If I the Machin huge had brought,
By Grecian guile so falsely wrought,
Or raysed it aboue the wall,
Of Troie that procurde the fall:
Then could I not thee (Cupid) blame,
If thou didst put mee to this shame.
But I haue alwaies beene as true
To thee and thine in order due,
As euer was there any Wight,
That fayth and truth to Cupid plight.
I neuer yet despise thy lawe,
But aye of thee did stand in awe:
I neuer callde thee Bussard blinde,
I no such fault in thee did finde,
But thought my time well spent to bee
That I imploide in seruing thee.
I wiste thou wert of force and powre
To conquere Princes in an howre
When thou retaindst mee as thy man
I thought my selfe most happie than.
Since this is true that I haue saide,
Good Cupid let mee haue thy aide,
Helpe mee to wreake my wrath aright
And succor mee to worke my spight.
To thee it appertaines of due
Him to assist that is so true:
And thou of reason shouldst torment
Such as by wilfull will are bent
To triumph ouer those that serue
Thee in the field, and neuer swerue,
Go bend thy Bowe with hastie speede,
And make hir Tigers hart to bleede.
Cause hir that little sets by mee,
Yet still to stand in awe of thee.
Let hir perceiue thy feruent fire,
And what thou art in raging ire,
Now showe thy selfe no man to bee,
Let hir a God both feele and see.
She forceth not my cutting paine,
Hir vowed othes shee wayes as vaine.
Shee sits in peace at quiet rest,
And scornes at mee so dispossest.
Shee laughes at thee, and mocks thy might,
Thou art not Cupid in hir sight.
Shee spites at mee without cause whie,
Shee forceth not although I die.
I am hir captiue bounde in Giue
And dare not once for lyfe to striue.
The more to thee I call and crie,
To rid mee from this crueltie,
The more shee seekes to worke hir ire,
The more shee burnes with scalding fire.
And all for Cupids sake I bide,
From whose decrees I doe not glide.
Wherefore (I say) go bende thy Bow,
And to hir hart an Arrow throw:
That Dart which breaketh harts of flint
And giues the cruell crasing dint,
Upon hir crabbed breast bestow,
That shee thy force and powre may know:
That shee a Myrrour may be knowne
To such as be thy deadly fone,
So shall they good example take,
How to abuse men for thy sake.
Let hir (good Cupid) vnderstande,
That I am thine both hart and hande.
And to play quittance force a fire,
That shee may frie with whote desire
Of me, whome earst she put to paine,
And this is all that I would gaine.

An Aunswere to his Ladie, that willed him that absence should not breede forgetfulnesse.

Though Noble Surrey sayde
that absence woonders frame,
And makes things out of sight forgot,
and thereof takes his name:
Though some there are that force
but on their pleasures prest,
Unmindefull of their plighted truth
and falsely forged hest:
Yet will I not approoue
mee guiltie of this crime,
Ne breake the friendship late begoon
as you shall trie in time.
No distance of the place
shall reaue thee from my brest:
Not fawning chaunce, nor frowning hap
shall make mee swarue my Hest,
As soone may Phœbus frame
his fierie Steades to roon
Their race from path they woonted were,
and ende where they begoon:
As soone shall Saturne cease
his bended broowes to show,
And frowning face to friendly Starres
that in their Circles go:
As soone the Tiger tame
and Lion shall you finde:
And brutish beastes that sauage were
shall swarue their bedlam kinde:
As soone the frost shall flame,
and Ætna cease to burne,
And restlesse Riuers to their springs
and Fountaines shall returne:
As absence breede debate,
or want of sight procure
Our faithfull friendships writh awrie
whilst liuely breath indure.
As soone I will commit
my selfe to Lethes lake
As the (sweete friend) whome I a Friend
haue chose for vertues sake.
How may a man forget
the coale that burnes within?
Augmenting still his secret sore
by piercing fell and skin?
May Martirs cease to mourne
or thinke of torments prest,
Whilst paine to paine is added aie
to further their vnrest?
May Shipmen in distresse
at pleasure of the winde
Tost too and fro by surge of Seas
that they in tempest finde,
Forget Neptunus rage
or blustring Borias blast,
When Cables are in sunder crackt,
and tackle rent from Mast?
Ne may I (Friend) forget
(vnlesse I would but faine)
The salue that doth recure my sore
and heales the scarre againe.
I send thee by the winde
ten thousand sighes a day,
Which dim the Skies with clowdie smoke
as they doe passe away.
Oft gazing on the Sunne
I count Apollo blest,
For that he vewes thee once aday
in passing to the West.
Oh that I had his powre
and blasing Lampe of light
Then thou my Friend should stand asurde
to neuer see the night.
But since it is not so,
content thy selfe a while:
And with remembrance of thy Friend
the lothsome time begile.
Till Fortune doe agree
that we shall meete againe:
For then shall presence breede our ioyes
whome absence put to paine.
And of my olde good will
(good Friend) thy selfe assure,
Haue no distrust, my loue shall last
as long as life shall dure.

Of a Thracyan that was drownde by playing on the Ise.

A Thracyan Boy well tipled all the day
Upon a frozen Spring did sport and play,
The slipper Ise with hieft of bodies sway
On sodaine brake, & swapt his head away:
It swam aloft, bylowe the Carcas lay.
The Mother came and bore the head away:
When shee did burie it thus gan shee say.
This brought I foorth in flame his Hierce to haue,
The rest amids the flood to finde a graue.

The Louer hoping in May to haue had redresse of his woes, and yet fowly missing his purpose, bewailes his cruell hap.

You that in May haue bathde in blis
And found a salue to ease your sore:
Doe May obseruaunce, Reason is
That May should honord be therfore.
Awake out of your drowsie sleepe
And leaue your tender Beds of Downe,
Of Cupids Lawes that taken keepe
With Sommer flowers deck your Crowne.
As soone as Venus Starre doth showe
That brings the dawning on his back
And cheerefull light begins to growe
By putting of his Foe to wrack:
Repaire to heare the wedded Makes
And late ycoupled in a knote,
The Nightingale that sits in Brakes
And telles of Tereus truth by note:
The Thrussell, with the Turtle Doue,
The little Robin eke yfeare
That make rehearsall of their loue,
Make haste (I say) that yee were theare.
Into the fieldes where Dian dwels
With Nimphes enuirond round about,
Haste yee to daunce about the Wels,
A fit pastime for such a rout.
Let them doe this that haue receiude
In May the hire of hoped grace:
But I as one that am bereaude
Of blissefull state, will hide my face,
And doole my daies with ruthfull voice
As fits a retchlesse Wight to doe:
Since now it lies not in my choise
To quite mee from this cursed woe.
I harbour in my breast a thought
Which now is turnde another way,
That pleasaunt May would mee ybrought
From Scylla to a better bay.
Since all (quoth I) that Nature made,
And placed here in earth bylowe,
When Spring returnes, of woonted trade
Doe banish griefe that earst did growe,
And chaungeth eke the churlish cheere
And frowning face of Tellus hewe,
With vernant flowers that appeere
To clad the soile with mantell newe:
Since Snakes doe cast their shriueled skinnes,
And Bucks hang vp their heads on pale,
Since frisking Fishes lose their finnes,
And glide with new repaired scale:
Then I of force with greedie eie
Must hope to finde to ease my smart,
Since eche anoy in Spring doth die,
And cares to comfort doe conuart.
Then I (quoth I) shall reach the port
And fast mine Ancker on the ground,
Where lyes my pleasure and disport
Where is my suretie to be found:
There shall my beaten Barke haue rode,
And I for seruice done be paid,
My sorrowes quite shall be vnlode,
Euen thus vnto my selfe I said.
But (out alas) it falles not so,
May is to mee a Month of mone,
In May though others comfort gro,
My seedes of griefe are surely sowne.
My bitter Teares for water serue
Wherewith the Garden of my brest
I moist, for feare the seedes should sterue,
And thus I frame mine owne vnrest.
Let others then that feelen ioy
Extole the merrie Month of May,
And I that tasted haue annoy,
In praise thereof will nothing say.
But wish returne of winters warre
And blustring force of Borias force againe.
These sower seedes of wo to marre
By force of winde and wisking raine.
And so perhaps by better fate
At next returne of Spring, I may
By chaunging of my former state
Cast off my care, and chaunge my lay.

To a fickle and vnconstant Dame, a friendly warning.

What may I thinke of you (my Fawlcon free)
That hauing hood, lines, buets, bels of mee,
And woonted earst when I my game did spring
To flie so well and make such nimble wing,
As might no Fowle for weightnesse well compare
With thee, thou wert a Bird so passing rare:
What may I deeme of thee (fayre Fawlcon) now,
That neyther to my lure nor traine wilt bow.
But this that when my back is turnde and gon,
Another giues thee rumpes to tyre vpon.
Well wanton well, if you were wise in deede
You would regard the fist whereon you feede.
You would the Horse deuouring Crow refuse,
And gorge your selfe with fleshe more fine to chuse.
I wishe thee this for woonted olde good will
To flie more high, for feare the stowping will
Breede him, that now doth keepe thee, out of loue
And thinke his Fawlcon will a Bussard proue.
Which if he deeme, or doe suspect at all,
He will abate thy flesh, and make thee fall.
So that of force thou shalt enforced bee
Too doe by him as nowe thou dost by mee:
That is to leaue the Keeper, and away,
Fawlcon take heede, for this is true I say.

The Louer to his Ladie that gased much vp to the Skies.

My Girle, thou gazest much
vpon the golden Skies:
Would I were Heauen, I would behold
thee then with all mine eies.

The Penitent Louer vtterly renouncing loue, craues pardon of forefassed follies.

If such as did amisse
and ran their race awrie,
May boldely craue at Iudges hand
some mercie ere they die,
And pardon for their gilt
that wilfully transgrest,
And sawe the bownds before their eies
that vertue had addrest:
Then I that brake the bancks
which Reason had assignde
To such as would pursue hir traine,
may stande in hope to finde
Some fauour at hir hand:
since blinde forecast was cause,
And not my wilfull will in fault
that I haue swerude hir lawes.
Misguided haue I beene
and trayned all by trust,
And Loue was forger of the fraude,
and furtherer of my lust.
Whose vele did daze mine eies,
and darckned so my sight
With errors foggie mist at first,
that Reason gaue no light.
And as those wofull Wightes
that saile on swelling Seas,
When windes and wrathfull waues conspire
to banish all their ease,
When heauenly Lamps are hid
from Shipmens hungrie eies,
And Lodestarres are in couert kept
within the cloudie Skies:
As they without respect
doe follow Fortunes lore,
And run at randome in the flood
where Æols Impes doe rore,
Till golden crested Phebe,
or else his Sisters light,
Haue chasde away those noysome clouds,
and put the same to flight:
So I (vnhappie man)
haue followde Loue a space,
And felt the whottest of his flame,
and flashing fierie blase.
In darknesse haue I dwelt,
and Errours vglie shade,
Unwitting how to raise a Starre
from perill to euade.
Few daies came on my head
wherein was cause of ioy,
But day and night were readie both
to hasten mine anoy.
Short were my sleepes (God wot)
most dreadfull were my dreames,
Mine eies (as Conduits of the hart)
did gush out saltish streames.
Tormented was my Corse,
my minde was neuer free,
But both repleate with anguish aye
disseuerde sought to bee.
No place might like mee long,
no pleasure could endure,
In stead of sport was smart at hande,
for pastime paine in vre.
A Bondman to my selfe,
yet free in others sight,
Not able to resist the rage
of winged Archers might.
Thus haue I spent my time
in seruage as a Thrall,
Till Reason of hir bountie list
mee to hir mercie call.
Now haue I made returne,
and by good hap retirde
From Cupids Camp and deepe Dispaire:
and once againe aspirde
To Ladie Reasons stawle
where wisedome throned is,
On promise of amends releast
is all that was amis.
To Plato now I flie,
and Senecs sound aduice:
A Fatch for Loue, I force not now
what Chaunce fall on the Dice.

To his Friend that refusde him without cause why but onely vpon delight of chaunge.

You showe your selfe to bee
a Woman right by kinde:
You lyke and then mislyke againe
where you no cause doe finde.
I can not thinke that loue
was planted in your brest,
As did your flattring lookes declare,
and periurde tongue protest.
Thou swarste alone that I
thy fansie did subdue,
Then why should frensie force thee now
to show thy selfe vntrue?
Fie faithlesse woman fie,
wilt thou condemne the kinde
Bicause of iust report of yll
and blot of wauering minde?
Too playne it now appeares
that lust procurde thy loue,
Or else it would not so decay
and causelesse thus remoue.
I thought that I at first
a Lucrece had subdude,
But nowe I finde that fansie fonde
my senses did delude
I deemde that I had got
a Fawlcon to the fist,
Whome I might quickly haue reclaimde,
but I my purpose mist.
For (oh) the worser hap
my Fawlcon is so free,
As downe shee stoupes to straungers lure
and forceth least of mee.
Good shape was yll bestowde
vpon so vile a Kite,
That Haggard wise doth loue to liue
and doth in chaunge delight.
Yeeld me thy slanting Hood,
shake off those Belles of thine,
Such checking Bussards yll deserue
or Bell or Hood so fine.
With Fowles of baser sort
how can you brooke too flie,
That earst your Nature did to Hawkes
of stately kinde applie?
If want of pray enforste
this chaunge thou art too blame:
For I had euer traines in store
to make my Fawlcon game.
I had a Tassell eke
full gentle by his kinde,
Too flie with thee in vse of wing
the greater ioy to finde.
No, doubtlesse wanton lust
and fleshly fowle desire
Did make thee loath my friendly lure,
and set thy hart on fire
Too trie what mettall was
in Bussards to be founde
This, this was it that made thee stowpe
from loftie gate to grounde.
Wherefore if euer luck
doe let me light on thee,
And Fortune graunt me once againe
thy keeper for to bee:
Thy diet shall be such,
thy tyring rumpes so bare,
As thou shalt know thy keeper well,
and for none other care.
Meanewhile on carren feede,
thy hungrie gorge to glut:
That all thy lust in daylie chaunge
and diet new dost put.
Diseases must of force
such feeding fowle ensue:
No force to me, thou wert my Bird,
But (Fawlcon) now adue.

To one that vpon surmise of aduersitie, forewent hir Friend.

As too the whyte, and lately lymed house
The Doues doe flock in hope of better fare,
And leaue their home of Culuers cleane and bare:
As to the Kitchin postes the peeping Mouse
Where Uittailes fine and curious Cates are drest,
And shoons the shop where liuelyhood waxeth thin,
Where he before had fillde his emptie skin,
And where he chose him first to be a guest:
As Lyse vnto the lyuing Carcasse cleaue,
But balke the same made readie to the Beare,
So you that earst my Friend to seeming weare,
In happie state: your needie Friend doe leaue.
Unfriendly are those other, Doue and Mouse
That doe refuse olde harbour for a newe
And make exchaunge for lodge they neuer knewe,
Unfriendly eke the slowe and lumpish Lowse.
But more vnciuill you that wittie arre
To iudge a Friend, your Friendship to forgo,
Without a cause and make exchaunges so:
For friendes are needed most in time of warre.
Put case that Chaunce withdrew hir olde good will
And frownde on mee to whome shee was a friend?
Is that a reason why your loue should end?
No, no, you should a friend continue still.
For true good will in miserie is tride,
For then will none but faithfull friends abide.

To Maister Googes fansie that begins Giue Monie mee take friendship who so list.

Friend Googe, giue me ye faithfull friend to trust,
And take the fickle Coine for mee that lust.
For Friends in time of trouble and distresse
With help and sound aduise will soone redresse
Eche growing griefe that gripes the pensiue brest,
When Monie lies lockt vp in couert Chest.
Thy Coine will cause a thousand cares to grow,
Which if thou hadst no Coine yu couldst not know.
Thy Friend no care but comfort will procure,
Of him thou mayst at neede thy selfe assure.
Thy Monie makes the Theefe in waite to lie,
Whose fraude thy Friend & falsehood will descrie.
Thou canst not keepe vnlockt thy carefull Coine,
But some from thee thy Monie will purloine:
Thy faithfull Friend will neuer start aside,
But take his share of all that shall betide.
When thou art dead thy Monie is bereft
But after life thy trustie Friend is left:
Thy Monie serues another Maister than,
Thy faythfull Friend lincks with none other man.
So that (Friend Googe) I deeme it better I,
To choose the Friend and let the Monie lie.

The Louer abused renownceth Loue.

The forsaken Louer laments that his Ladie is matched with an other.

Of one that was in reuersion.

Another hath that I did bie,
and I enioy that hee imbraste:
I reape the Graine, and pluck the Peare,
but he had Peare and Corne at laste.
Which sithens Fortune hath allowde,
let eyther well contented bee:
I hate him not for his delights,
then let him doe the lyke too mee.
For sowe both be pleasde, I say,
this bargaine was deuised well:
Let him with present good delight
as I what time to mee it fell.
If euer he by hap forgo,
I trust my hope is not in vaine,
I hope the thing I once enioyde
will to his owner come againe.
Which if be so, then happie I
that had the first, and haue the laste:
What better fortune may there bee
than in Reuersion to be plaste.

That all hurts and losses are to be recouered and recured saue the cruell wound of Loue.

The Surgion may deuise
a Salue for erie sore,
And to recure all inwarde griefes
Phisitions haue in store
Their Simples to compownde
and match in mixture so,
As ech disease from sicklie Corse
they can enforce to go.
The wastfull wrack of welth
that Merchants doe sustaine,
By happie vent of gotten wares
may be supplide againe.
A Towne by treason lost,
a Forte by falsehood woon,
By manly fight is got againe
and helpe of hurtfull Goon.
Thus eche thing hath redresse
and sweete recure againe:
Saue onely Loue, that farther frets,
and feedes on inward paine.
No Galen may this griefe
by Phisicks force expell:
No Reasons rule may ought preuaile
where lurcking Loue doth dwell.
The Patient hath no powre
of holesome things to taste:
No Drench, no Drug, nor Sirop sweete
his hidden harme may waste.
No comfort comes by day,
no pleasant sleepe by night:
No needefull nap at Noone may ease
the Louers painefull plight.
In deepe dispaire he dwels
till in comes hope of ease,
Which somewhat lessens paines of Loue,
and calmes the surge of Seas.
His head is fraught with thoughts,
his hart with throwes repleate:
His eies amazde, his quaking hand,
his stomack lothing meate.
This bale the Louer bides
and hatefull Hagge of Hell,
And yet himselfe doth deeme that hee
in Paradyce doth dwell.

Of the choise of his Valentine.

Of an open Foe and a fayned Friend.

Not he so much anoies
that sayes: I am thy Fo,
As he that beares a hatefull hart,
and is a Friend to sho.
Of tone we may beware,
and flie his open hate,
But tother bites before he barck,
a hard auoyded Mate.

[Of an open Foe and a fayned Friend] Againe.

Of both giue mee the man
that sayes, I hate in deede:
Than him that hath a Knife to kill,
yet weares a friendly weede.

Of a Ritch Miser.

A misers minde thou hast,
thou hast a Princes pelfe:
Which makes thee welthy to thine Heire,
a Beggar to thy selfe.

Of a Painter that painted Fauour.

Thou (Painter fond) what meanes this mad deuise
Fauour to drawe? sith vncouth is the hed
From whence it comes, and first of all was bred?
Some deeme that it of Beautie doth arise,
Dame Fortunes Babie and vndoubted Sonne,
Some other doe surmise this Fauour was:
Againe, some thinke by Chaunce it came to passe,
Another saies of Uertue it begonne.
Quest.
What Mate is he that daylie is at hand?

Auns.
Faire speaking he and glosing Flattrie hight.

Quest.
What he that slowly comes behind?

Auns.
Despight.

Quest.
What they (I pray) that him inuiron stand?

Auns.
Wealth, Honor, Pride, and Noble needefull Lawes.
And leading Lust that driues to thousand ills.

Quest.
What meane those wings, & painted quiuering Quills?

Auns.
Cause vpward aie Dame Fortune Fauour drawes.

Quest.
Why blinde is Fauour made?

Auns.
for cause that he
That is vnthriftie once yplast amownt
From baser step not had in any cownt
Can not discerne his Friends, or who they be.

Quest.
Why treades he on the tickle turning wheele?

Auns.
He followes Fortunes steps and giddie Gate
Unstaied Chaunces aie vnstedfast Mate:
And when that things are well, can neuer feele.
Then tell me one thing else to pease my minde

Quest.
My last demaund. What meanes his swelling so?

Auns.
How chaunst that Fauour doth so prowdly go?
Good haps by course vs Men doe maken blinde.

The Louer whose Lady dwelt fast by a Prison.

Complaint of the long absence of his Loue vpon the first acquaintance.

O cursed , cruell, canckred Chaunce,
O Fortune full of spight,
Why hast thou so on sodaine reft
from mee my chiefe delight?
What glorie shalt thou gaine perdie
or purchace by the rage?
This is no Conquest to be callde,
wherefore thy wrath asswage.
To soone eclipsed was my ioy,
my dolors grow to fast:
For want of hir that is my life,
my life it can not last.
Is this thy fickle kind so soone
to hoise a man to ioy,
And ere he touch the top of blisse
to breede him such anoy?
Nowe doe I plaine perceiue and see
that Poets faine not all,
For churlish Chaunce is counted blinde
and full of filthy Gall.
I thought there had beene no such Dame
ne Goddesse on a wheele:
But now too well I know hir kinde,
too soone hir force I feele.
And that which doth augment my smart
and maketh more my wo,
Is, for I felt a sodaine ioy
where now this griefe doth grow.
If thou hadst ment (vnhappie Hap)
thus to haue nipt my ioy,
Why didst thou show a smyling cheere
that shouldst haue lookte acoy?
For griefes doe nothing grudge at all
but where was blisse before:
None wailes the want of wealth so much
as he that had the store.
Not he that neuer saw the Sunne
complaines for lack of light,
But such as saw his golden gleames
and knew his cheerefull might.
Too late I learne through spitefull chaunce
that ioy is mixt with wo,
And eche good hap hath hate in hoorde,
the course of things is so.
So Poyson lurcks in Suger sweete,
the Hooke so hides the bayte:
Euen so in greene and pleasant grasse
the Serpent lies in wayte.
Vlysses wife I learne at last
thy sorrow and distresse,
In absence of thy lingring Loue,
that should thy woes redresse.
Great was your griefe (ye Greekish Girlles)
whilste stately Troie stood,
And kept your husbands from your laps
in perill of their blood.
All ye therefore that haue assayde
what torments lack procures
Of that you loue, lament my lack
which ouerlong endures.
Ye Winds transport my soking sighes
to my new chosen Friende,
So may my sorrow swage perhaps
and dreerie state haue ende.
Ye Sighes make true report of teares,
that so beraine my brest,
As Helens husbands neuer were
for treason of his Guest.
If thou (my Letter) maist attaine
the place of hir abode,
Doe thou, as Herauld of the hart,
my sorrowes quite vnlode.
In thee as in a Myrrour cleere
or Christall may she vewe
My pangues, my paynes, my sighes and teares
which Tigers could but rewe.
There shall shee see my secret parts
encombred all with mone,
My fainting lims, my vapord eien
with hart as colde as stone.
I know shee can but rue my case
when thou presents my sute,
Wherefore play thou thy part so well
that I may reape the frute.
And if (when shee hath read thee through)
shee place thee in hir lap,
Then chaunge thy cheere thy Maister hath
his long desired hap.

The ventrous Louer after long absence craues his Ladie to meete with him in place to enterparle of hir auentures.

If so Leander durst
from Abydon to Sest
To swim to Herô whome he chose
his Friend aboue the rest,
And gage his comely corse
vnto the sowsing Tyde
To lay his water beaten lims
fast by hir tender side:
Then I (my Deare) whose gleames
and ardor doth surpasse
The scorching flame and blasing heate
that in Leander was,
May well presume to take
the greatest toyle in hande,
To reach the place where thou dost lodge
the chiefe of Venus bande.
For not Leanders loue
my friendship doth excell,
Nor Herô may compare with hir
that beares Dame Beauties Bell.
There resteth nought for thee
but to assigne the place,
The mirrie day, the ioyfull houre
when I may see thy face:
Appoint the certaine Tide
and fixed stem of stay,
And thou shalt see thy faithfull Friend
will quickly come his way
Not dreeding any doubt:
but ventrously will go
Through thick and thin to gaine a glimse
of thee his sugred fo.
Where when by hap we meete,
our long endured woes
Shall stint by force of friendly thoughts
which we shall then discloes.
Then eyther may vnfolde
the secrets of the hart,
And show how long dislodge hath bred
our cruell cutting smart.
Then may we freely chat
of all forepassed toyes,
And put those pensiue pangues to flight
with new recourse of ioyes.
Then pleasure shall possesse
the lodge were Dolour lay,
And mirrie blincks put cloudes of care
and lowring lookes away.
Then kissing may be plide
and clipping put in vre,
And lingred sores by Cupids salues
aspire to quick recure.
Oh dreede thou not at all,
set womans feare a part
And take the courage of a man,
that hast a manly hart
In hostage aie with thee
to vse at thy deuise.
In all affaires and needefull houres
as matter shall arise.
Reuoke to louing minde
how ventrous Thisbe met
In fearefull night with Pyramus
where Nynus Tombe was set.
So hazard thou to come
vnto the pointed place,
To thwart thy Friend, and meete with him
that longs to see thy face.
Who better will attend
thy friendly comming there,
Than Pyramus of Thysbe did
his disappointed Feere.
For (oh) their meeting was
the reauer of their breath,
The crop of endlesse care, and cause
of either Louers death.
But we so warely will
our fixed time attende,
As no mishap shall grow thereby.
And thus I make an ende
With wishing well to thee,
and hope to meete in place
To enterparle with thee (my Friend)
and tell my dolefull case.

To Maister Googe his Sonet out of sight out of thought.

The Louer whose Mistresse feared a Mouse, declareth that he would become a Cat, if he might haue his desire.

The Louer driuen to absent him from his Ladie, bawayles his estate.

That Louers ought rather at first acquaintance to shew their meanings by Pen then by Mouth.

An Epitaph of Maister Win drowned in the Sea.

[An Epitaph of Maister Win drowned in the Sea] Againe.

Praise of his Loue.

Appelles lay the Pensill downe
and shun thy woonted skill,
Let brute no more with flattring Trumpe
the Greekish eares fulfill:
Clayme not to thee such Painters praise
as thou hast done of yore,
Least thou in fine be foiled flat
and gained glorie lore.
So seeke not to disgrace the Greekes
thy louing Natiue land,
But rather from depainting formes
withdraw thy skillest hand.
For so thou stiffely stand and vaunt
that thou wilt frame hir like
Whome I extoll aboue the Starres,
thou art a stately Greeke.
As soone with might thou mayste remoue
the Rock from whence it growes,
As frame hir featurde forme in whome
such flouds of graces flowes.
If I might speake vnhurt of hate,
I would auaunt that kinde
In spite of Rose and Lillie both
had hir in earth assignde
To dwell among the daintie Dames
that shee hath placed heere:
Cause, by hir passing feature might
Dame Natures skill appeere.
Hir Haire surmounts Apollos pride
in it such beautie raines
Hir glistring eies the Cristall farre
and finest Saphire staines
A little Mouth with decent Chin,
a Corall Lip of hue,
With Teeth as white as Whale his bone
eche one in order due.
A body blamelesse to be found,
Armes rated to the same:
Such Hands with Azure deckt, as all
that warre with hir doe shame.
As for the partes in couert kept
and what is not in sight,
I doe esteeme them by the reast
not forcing on dispight.
If I were foreman of the Quest
my verdit to expresse,
Forgiue mee (Phœbus,) of thy place
shee should thee dispossesse.
P: should be raised to the cloudes
and Phœbus brought alow,
For that there should liue none in earth
but might hir vertue know.
Thus to conclude and make an ende,
to vouch I dare beholde:
As soone as Nature hir had made
all Natures ware was solde.

The complaint of a Friend of his hauing lost his Doue.

What shold I shed my teares to show mine inward pain
Since yt the Iewell I haue lost may not be had again.
Yet bootelesse though it bee to vtter couert smart
It is a meane to cure the griefe, and make a ioyfull hart.
Wherefore I say to you that haue enioyde your Loue,
Lament with me in wofull wise for loosing of my Doue.
You Turtle Cocks that are your louing Hennes bereft,
And do bewaile your cruell chaunce that you aliue are left:
Come hither, come I say, come hie in haste to mee,
Let eyther make his dolefull plaint amid this drearie tree.
A fitter place than this may no where else be found
For friendly Eccho here wil cause ech cry to yeeld a sound.
In youth it was my luck on such a Doue to light,
As by good nature wan my loue, she was my whole delite
A fresher fowle than mine for shape and beauties hue,
Was neuer any man on earth that had the hap to vewe.
Dame Nature hir had framde so perfite in hir kinde
As not the spiteful man himself one fault in hir could finde.
Hir eie so passing pure, hir beake so braue and fit,
The stature of hir lims so small, hir head so full of Wit,
Hir neck of so good syse, hir plume of colour white,
Hir legs & feete so finely made, though seldom sene in sight:
Eche part so fitly pight as none mought chaūge his place,
Nor any Bird could lightly haue so good & braue a grace.
But most of all that I did fansie, was hir voyce,
For swete it was vnto mine eare, & made the hart reioyce.
No sooner could I come in place where she was set,
But vp she rose, and ioyfull would hir Make & louer met.
About my tender neck she would haue clasped tho,
And laid hir beake betwixt my lips, sweete kisses to besto.
And ought besides that mought haue pleasurde me at all,
Was neuer man that had a birde so fit to play withall.
When I for ioy did sing, she would haue song with mee,
Whē I was wo, my grief was hirs, she wold not plesāt be
But (oh) amid my ioyes came cruell canckred Death,
And spiting at my pleasures reft my louing bird hir breath
Who finding me alack, and absent on a day,
Caught bow in hand, & strak hir down, a breding as she lay
Since I haue cause to waile the death of such a Doue,
(Good Turtles) help me to lament ye losse of my true loue.
The Tree whereon she sat shall be the place where I
Will sing my last, & end my life: for (Turtles) I must die.
You know it is our kinde, we can not liue alone,
More pleasant is ye death to vs then life when loue is gone
To tell a farther tale my fainting breath denies,
And selfe same death yt slue my Doue, begins to close mine eies.

That Louers ought to shunne no paines to attaine their Loue.

If Marchaunts in their warped Keales
commit themselues to Waue,
And dreadfull daunger of the Goulfe
in tempest that doth raue,
To set from farre and Forraine lands
such ware as is to sell,
And is not in their Natiue soile
where they themselues doe dwell:
If Souldiars serue in perills place
and dread of Cannon shot,
Ech day in daunger of their liues
and Countrie losse God wot,
Whose Musick is the dreadfull Drum
and dolefull Trumpets sounde,
Who haue in stead of better bed
the colde and stonie grounde,
And all tattaine the spoile with speede
of such as doe withstande,
Which slender is sometime we see
when so it comes to hande:
If they for Lucre light sustaine
such perill as ensues,
Then those that serue the Lorde of Loue
no trauaile ought refuse:
But lauish of their liuely breath
all tempest to abide,
To maintaine Loue and all his lawes
what Fortune so betide.
And not to shrink at erie shoure
or stormie flaw that lights,
Ne yet to yeelde themselues as thrall
to such as with them fights.
Such are not fit for Cupids Campe,
they ought no wages win
Which faint before the clang of Trump
or Battels broile begin.
They must not make account of hurt,
for Cupid hath in store
Continually within his Campe
a salue for erie sore.
Their Ensigne bearer is so stoute
ecleaped Hope by name,
As if they follow his aduise
ech thing shall be in frame.
But if for want of courage stoute
the Banner be bereft,
If Hope by hap be stricken downe,
and no good hope yleft:
Tis time with Trump to blow retreate,
the Field must needes be woon:
So Cupid once be Captiue tane
his Souldiars are vndoon.
Wherefore, what so they are that Loue
as waged men doe serue:
Must shun no daunger drift at all
ne from no perill swerue.
Keepe watch and warde the wakefull night
and neuer yeelde to rest.
For feare least thou a waiting nought
on sodaine be opprest.
Though hunger gripe thy emptie Maw
endure it for a while,
Till time doe serue with good repast
such famine to beguile.
Be not with chilly colde dismaide,
let Snow nor Ise procure
Thy lustfull lims from painefull plight
thy Ladie to allure.
That is the spoile that Cupid giues
that is the onely wight
Where at his Thralls are woont to roue
with Arrowes from their sight.
My selfe as one among the moe,
shall neuer spare to spend
My life, my lims, yea hart and all
Loues quarrell to defend.
And so in recompence of paines
and toile of perills past,
He yeelde mee but my Ladies loue:
I will not be agast,
Of Fortune, nor hir frowning face,
I nought shall force hir cheere,
But tend on erie turne on hir
that is my louing Feere.

A request of Friendship to Vulcans Wyfe made my Mars.

Though froward Fortune would yt you who are
So braue a Dame, wt Vulcan shoulden linck:
Yet may you loue the lustie God of warre,
And bleare his eies that no such fraud will thinck.
Tis Cupids charge, and all the Gods agree,
That you be Feere to him, and Friend to mee.

The Louer that had loued Long without requitald of good will.

To a Friend that wild him to beware of Enuie.

This sound aduise and counsell sent from you
With friendly hart yt you (my friend) doe giue,
With willing minde I purpose to ensue,
And to beware of Enuie whilst I liue.
For spitefull it doth nought but malice brue
Aie seeking Loue from faithfull harts to riue,
And plant in place where perfit Friendship grue
A mortall hate, good Nature to depriue:
And those that nip mee by the back behinde,
I trust you shall vntrue reporters finde.

Of Misreporters.

I hope (mine Owne) this fixed Loue of thine
Is so well staid and rooted deepe in brest
That not, vnlesse thou see it with thine eine
That I from thee my loue and Friendship wrest,
Thou wilt vntie the knot of thy behest.
I trust your selfe of Enuie will beware
That wild your friend take heede of Enuies snare.

That no man should write but such as doe excell.

Should no man write (say you,)
but such as doe excell?
This fonde deuise of yours deserues
a Bable and a Bell.
Then one alone should doe
or verie few in deede:
For that in erie Art there can
but one alone exceede.
Should others ydle bee
and waste their age in vaine,
That mought perhaps in after time
the prick and price attaine?
By practise skill is got
by practise Wit is woon.
At games you see how many doe
to win the wager roon,
Yet one among the moe
doth beare away the Bell:
Is that a cause to say the rest
in running did not well?
If none in Phisick should
but onely Galene deale,
No doubt a thousand perishe would
whome Phisick now doth heale.
Eche one his Talent hath,
to vse at his deuise:
Which makes that many men as well
as one are counted wise.
For if that Wit alone
in one should rest and raine
Then God the skulles of other men
did make but all in vaine.
Let eche one trie his force,
and doe the best he can
For therevnto appointed were
the hand and hed of man.
The Poet Horace speakes
against thy Reason plaine,
Who sayes tis, somewhat to attempt
although thou not attaine
The scope in erie thyng:
to touch the highst degree
Is passing hard, too doe the best
sufficing is for thee.

To his Friend, declaring what vertue it is to stick to former plighted friendship.

The sage and Siluer haired Wights doe thinke
A vertue rare not to be proude of mind
When Fortune smiles: nor cowardly to shrink
Though chaūged Chaūce do shew hir self vnkind.
But chiefest praise is to imbrace the man
In welth and wo with whome your loue began.

Of two desperate Men.

Of the torments of Hell and the paines of Loue.

Though they that wanted grace
and whilome liued heere,
Sustaine such pangues and paines in Hell
as doth by Bookes appeere,
Though restlesse be the rage
of that infernall route,
That voide of feare and Pitties plaint
doe fling the fire aboute,
And tosse the blasing Brands
that neuer shall consume,
And breath on sielie Soules that sit
and suffer furious fume:
Though Tantall, Pelops Sonne,
abide the Dropsie dry,
And sterue with hunger where he hath
both Foode and Water by:
Though Tytius doe indure
his Liuer to be rent
Of Vultures tyring on the same
vnto his spoile ybent:
And Sysiphe though with paine
and neuer stinting drift
Doe role the stone from Mountaines top
and it to Mountaine lift:
Though Belydes doe broile
and suffer endlesse paine,
In drawing water from the deepe
that falleth downe againe:
Though Agamemnons Sonne
such retchlesse rage indure,
By meane of furies that with flame
his griefull smart procure:
Though Mynos hath assignde
Prometheus to the rack,
With hand and foote ystretch awide
till all his lims doe crack;
To leade a lothsome life
and die a liuing death,
Amid his paines to waste his winde
and yet to want no breath:
Though other stand in Stix
with Sulpher that doth flame,
And other plunge in Phlegiton
so gastly for the name:
Though Cerberus, the Kaie
of Plutos Denne that beares,
With hungrie throte and greedie gripe
the newcome Straunger teares:
Though these condemned Ghostes
such dreadfull paine indures,
Yet may they not compare at all
with pangues that Loue procures.
His tiring farre exceedes
the gnawing of the Gripes,
And with his Whip such lashes giues
that passe Megeras stripes.
He lets the Liuer lie,
tormenting aie the Hart:
He strikes and wounds his bounden thrall
with dubble hedded Dart.
His fire exceedes the flame
of deepe Auernus Lakes:
And where he once pretendes a plague
a spitefull spoile he makes.
His foes doe wake by day
they dread to sleepe the night:
They ban the Sunne, they curse the Moone,
and all that else giues light.
They passe their lothsome liues
with not contented minde:
Their dolefull daies drawe slow to date
as Cupid hath assignde.
To Tantall like, but yet
their case is worse than his:
They haue that they imbrace, but straight
are quite bereft of blis.
They waste their winde in sighes
they bleare their eies with brine:
They breake their bulcks with bowncing griefe,
their harts with lingring pine.
Though Orpheus were aliue
with Musick that appeasde
The vglie God of Lymbo Lake,
and soules so sore diseasde,
By Arte he mought not ease
the Louers feruent fits,
Ne purchace him his harts desire
so troubled are his wits.
No place of quiet rest,
no roome deuoide of ruth:
No swaging of his endlesse paine
whose death doth trie his truth.
His Chamber serues for nought
but witnesse of his plaint,
His Bed and Bolster to bewaile
their Lorde with Loue attaint.
The man for murther caught
and clodgde with yron colde
To sweare that he more happie is
than Louers may be bolde.
For he in little space
his dreadfull day shall see,
But Cupids thralls in daylie griefes
tormented daylie bee.
A thousand deaths they bide
whilst they in life remaine,
And onely plaints and stormie thoughts
they are the Louers gaine.

An Epitaph of the death of Maister Tufton of Kent.

[An Epitaph of the death of Maister Tufton of Kent] Againe.

In praise of Ladie P.

P. Seemes of Venus stock to bee
for beauties comely grace,
A Grysell for hir grauitie,
a Helen for hir face:
A second Pallas for hir Wit,
a Goddesse rare in sight:
A Dian for hir daintinesse,
shee is so chaste a Wight.
Doe vew hir Corse with curious eie,
eche lim from top to toe,
And you shall say I tell but truth
that doe extoll hir so.
The Head as chiefe that stands aloft
and ouer looketh all,
With wisedome is so fully fraught
as Pallas there did stall.
Two Eares th[illeg.]ust no trifling tales
nor credit bl[illeg.]rute:
Yet such againe as readie are
to heare the humbles sute.
Hir Eies are such as will not gaze
on things not worthy sight,
And where she ought to cast a looke
she will not winke in spight.
The golden graines that greedie guestes
from forraine Countries bring,
No shining Phœbus glittring beames
that on his Godhead spring:
No auncient Amber had in price
of Roman Matrons olde,
May be comparde with splendant hatres
that passe the Venys Golde.
Hir Nose adorns hir countnance so
in middle iustly plaste,
As it at no time will permit
hir beautie be defaste.
Hir Mouth so small hir Teeth so white
as any Whale his bone,
Hir lips without so liuely red
that passe the Corall stone.
What neede I to describe hir Cheekes?
hir Chin? or else hir Pap?
For they are all as though the [illeg.]ose
lodge in the Lillies lap,
What should I stand vpon the rest
or other parts depaint:
As little Hand with Fingers long?
my wits are all to faint.
Yet this I say in hir behalfe
if Helen were hir leeke,
Sir Paris neede not to disdaine
hir through the Seas to seeke:
Nor Menelaus was vnwise
or Troupe of Troians mad,
When he with them, and they with him,
for hir such combat had.
Leanders labour was not lost
that swam the surging Seas,
If Hero were of such a hue
whome so he sought to please.
And if Admetus Darling deere
were of so fresh a face,
Though Phœbus kept Admetus flock
it may not him disgrace.
Nor mightie Mauors waye the floutes
and laughing of the rest,
If such a one were shee with whome
he lay in Vulcans Nest.
If Bryseis beautie were so braue,
Achylles needes no blame
Who left the Campe and fled the field
for loosing such a Dame.
If shee in Ida had bene seene
with Pallas and the rest,
I doubt where Paris would haue chose
Dame Venus for the best,
Or if Pygmalion had but tane
a glimse of such a face,
He would not then his Idoll dumme
so feruently imbrace.
But what shall neede so many wordes
in things that are so plaine?
I say but that I doubt where Kinde
can make the like againe.

The Louer in vtter dispaire of his Ladies returne, in eche respect compares his estate with Troylus.

My case with Troylus may compare,
For as he felt both sorrow and care:
Euen so doe I most Miser Wight,
That am a Troylus outright.
As ere he could atchieue his wish,
He fed of many a dolefull dish,
And day and night vnto the Skies
The sielie Troian kest his eies,
Requesting ruth at Cresids hande
In whome his life and death did stande:
So night and day I spent in wo,
Ere she hir pittie would bestow
To quight me from the painefull plight
That made me be a Martir right.
As when at last he fauour founde,
And was recured of his wounde,
His grutching griefes to comfort grue,
And torments from the Troian flue:
So when my Ladie did remooue
Hir rigour, and began to looue
Hir Uassell in such friendly sort,
As might appeere by outward port:
Then who began to ioy but I
That stoode my Mistresse hart so nie?
Then (as the Troian did) I soong,
And out my Ladies vertues roong
So lowde, as all the world could tell
What was the meaning of the Bell.
And as that pleasaunt taste of ioy
That he endured had in Troy,
From sweete to sower did conuart,
When Cresida did thence depart:
So my forepassed pleasures arre
By spitefull Fortune put a farre
By hir departure from this place,
Where I was woont to view hir face.
So Angelike that shone in sight
Surpassing Phœbes golden light.
As when that Diomed the Greeke
Had giuen the Troian Foe the gleeke,
And reft him Cresids comely hue
Which often made his hart to rue,
The wofull Troylus did lament,
And dolefull dayes in mourning spent:
So I bereft my loouing Make,
To sighes and sobbings mee betake,
Repining that my fortune is
Of my desired Friend to misse,
And that a guilefull Greeke should bee
Esteemde of hir in such degree.
But though my fortune frame awrie,
And I dispoylde hir companie
Must waste the day and night in wo,
For that the Gods appointed so:
I naythelesse will wish hir well
And better than to Cresid fell.
I pray she may haue better hap
Than beg hir bread with Dish and Clap,
As shee the sielie Miser did
When Troylus by the Spittle rid.
God shield hir from the Lazars lore
And lothsome Leapers stincking sore,
And for the loue I earst hir bare
I wish hir as my selfe to fare:
My selfe that am a Troian true
As shee full well by triall knue.
And as King Priams worthie Sonne
All other Ladies seemde to shonne
For loue of Cresid: so doe I
All Venus Dearlings quight defie,
In minde to loue them all aleeke,
That leaue a Troian for a Greeke.

The Louer declareth what he would haue if he might obtaine his wish.

If Gods would daine to lende
a listning eare to mee
And yeelde me my demaunde at full,
what think you it to bee?
Not to excell in seate
or wield the Regall Mace,
Or Scepter in such stately sort
as might commende the place.
For as their Hawle is hie,
so is their ruine rough,
As those that earst hath felt the fall
declare it well ynough.
Ne would I wish by warre
and bloudie blade in fist,
To gore the grounde with giltlesse bloud
of such as would resist.
For Tirants though a while
doe leade their liues in ioy,
Yet Tirants trie in trackt of time
how bloudshed doth annoy.
I would none office craue,
ne Consulship request:
For that such rule is full of rage,
and fraught with all vnrest.
Ne would I wish for welth
in great excesse to flow,
Which keepes the Keyes of discords Denne
as all the world doth know.
But my desire should farre
such base requests excell,
That I might hir enioy at will
whome I doe loue so well.
O mightie God of Gods
I were assured than
In happie hap him to surpasse
that were the happiest man.
Then might I martch in mirth
with well contented minde,
And ioy to thinke that I in loue
such blissefull hap did finde.
What friendly wordes would we
togither then recite?
More than my tongue is able tell
or this poore Pen to write.
Then should my hart reioyce
and thereby comfort take,
As they haue felt that earst haue had
the vse of such a Make.
If Fortune then would frowne,
or sought me to disgrace:
The touching of hir cherrie lip
such sorrowes would displace.
Or if such griefe did growe
as might procure my smart,
Hir long and limber armes to mee
might soone reduce my hart.
For as by foming flouds
the fleating Fishes liues:
To Salamanders as the [illeg.]me
their onely comfort giues:
So doth thy beautie (P)
my sorrowes quite expell:
And makes me fare where I should faint
vnlesse thou loo[illeg.]ste mee well,
And as by Waters want,
Fish falleth to decay,
And Salamander can not liue
when flame is tane away:
So absence from hir sight
whole Seas of sorrowes makes,
Which presence of that Paragon
by secret vertue slakes.
Would Death would spare to spoyle
and crooked age to rase
(As they are woont by course of kinde)
Pees beautie in this case.
Yet though their rigor rage,
and powre by proofe be plaine:
If P. should die to morrow next,
yet P. should liue againe.
For Phænix by his kinde
to Phænix will returne,
When he by force of Phæbus flame
in scalding Skies doe burne.
Then P. must needes reuiue
that is a Phænix plaine:
And P. by lack of liuely breath
shall be a P. againe.

Of a Gentlewoman that wilde hir Louer to weare greene Bayes in token of hir stedfast loue towards him.

An Epitaph of Maister Edwards sometime Maister of the Children of the Chappell, and Gentleman of Lyncolns Inne of Court.

Ye Learned Muses nine
and sacred Sisters all,
Now lay your cheerefull Cithrons downe
and to lamenting fall.
Rent off those Garlands greene,
doe Lawrell Leaues away,
Remooue the Myrtell from your browes
and stint on strings to play.
For he that led the daunce
the chiefest of your traine,
(I meane the man that Edwards height)
by cruell death is slaine.
Yee Courtyers chaunge your cheere,
lament in wailefull wise,
For now your Orpheus hath resignde,
in clay his Carcas lyes.
O ruth, he is bereft
that whilst he liued heere
For Poets Pen and passing Wit
could haue no English Peere.
His vaine in Uerse was such,
so stately eke his stile
His feate in forging sugred Songs
with cleane and curious file,
As all the learned Greekes
and Romaines would repine
If they did liue againe, to vewe
his Uerse with scornefull eine.
From Plautus he the Palme
and learned Terence wan,
His writings well declarde the Wit
that lurcked in the man.
O Death thou stoodste in dread
that Edwards by his Art
And Wisedome would haue scapte thy shaft
and fled thy furious Dart.
This feare enforste thy fist
thy cursed Bow to bende,
And let the fatall Arrow flie
that Edwards life did ende.
But spite of all thy spite
when all thy hate is tride,
(Thou cursed Death) his earned praise
in Mouth of Man shall bide.
Wherefore (O Fame) I say
to trumpe thy lips applie,
And blow a blast that Edwards brute
may pierce the golden Skie.
For here bylow in earth
his name is so well knowne:
As eche that knew his life, laments
that hee so soone is gone.

An Epitaph on the death of Maister Arthur Brooke drownde in passing to New Hauen.

Of the renowmed Lady, Lady Anne Countesse Warwick.

The Authours Epiloge to his Booke