University of Virginia Library

GRANGES GARDEN:

Conteyning as well certaine verses vpon sundry poyntes, in Metre, as also diuerse Pamphlets in prose: Pleasant to the eare, and delightfull to the Reader, if he abuse not the scente of the Floures.

A valiant yong Gentleman beyng trayned vp in Martiall provves, and allured by euill counsell to womens follies, bewayleth his life in this order.

Sometime in Martiall deedes, I set my whole delight:
And eke my stedfast eyes did hate, of wāton dames the sight.
But now I take delight, each blasing starre to vewe,
My tongue likewise with sugred wordes, inquireth of their mewe.
Then thither fast I hie, if hope doth giue me grace,
And many wanton lookes I cast, to vewe hir comely face.
Thus hath shee wonne my harte, my purse is neuer tide,
Good will hath giuen a dasing dente, fro thence I may not bide.
In hope I spende my time, in hope to gayne my will,
I daunce attendance euery day, in hope to haue my fill.
Sometime I haue my wishe, the bensell of hir bowe,
Sometime I haue my hartes desire, of certen this I knowe.
Sometime againe I wante, what is my hartes desire,
Which as dry wood, and kindling coles, doth set my harte on fire.
Then I to late repent my want on foolishe eye,
Which gussheth forth like springs of teares, my cōstāt hart to trie.
Than this, what greater griefe? to spende my winde in vayne,
On those who nought regarde my harte, & lesse regard my payne.
Then wishe I all to late, that Mars had rulde my will,
Then Cupid, he, nor Venus had, not knowen my hart to kill.
My goods are wasted whole, and I consumed am,
Beware therefore by others harmes, a Tygre seemes a lam.
But iudgement here I craue, who greater sorrowes sente,
Of him who tyste me herevnto, or hir to whome I lente?
If he, then all beware, of me who bought my witte,
And shunne the counsell of the naught, a wise mans rule to hitte.
If she, likewise eschewe, th' allurements of the nought,
And learne by me, for sure it is, I haue my wisedome bought.
Though tis a sugred bayte, it is but for the time,
And riper yeares lamenteth much, the losse of former time.
But youth regardeth not, the things that are to come,
Oh would to God I followed had, the sound of trump & dromme.
For aged yeares forbid to runne this youthfull race,
And warnde me oft, who wold not heare, for lighting in this cace.
Yong men thinks old men fooles, but old men knoweth well,
Yong men are fooles, and wants the witte, wherein they do excell.
Let no man therefore shunne, the counsell of the olde,
For he a foole may counted be. whose faultes would not be tolde.
Thus happie I him counte, who can right well beware,
Of others harmes, least he himselfe, should fall in such a snare.

His Poesie.

VVhat wisedome warneth marke you well
That follie harvesth truth dothe tell.

The force of Beauties pryce.

As Cæcias winde, hath force the clowdes to drawe:
As Geate, or Anuibre, likewise doth by strawe:
As Adamant stones, dothe Iron plucke them to:
So amorous lookes, hath force the like to do.
And as Dan Titan, with his radiant guyse,
The withering grasse, doth skorche in smothring wise:
Ueneriall Dames, do likewise parche the harles,
Of rauening youthes, with there Cupidall dartes.
Thus beyng set on fire with masing minde they stande,
Of ardent loue, and waues of woe, to see the vpper hande.

A Gentleman reuealeth his former life.

When youth was in his prime, and florisht most of all,
I set my whole delight to vew, whom gallāt dames mē cal.
So wauring was my witte, so wanton was mine eye,
That all the day I walkt the streetes, to see who passed bye.
And when a crewe I spide, adornd with toppes of pleumes,
Such gasing sights did please me wel, and daintie fed my reumes.
If hir I did suspect a Curtizan to be,
Then would I clap hir on the lippes, though euery man did see.
And say all hayle faire dame, I ioye to see your health,
You will not know your wōted friēds such is your store of welth.
Then she herewith amazde not knowyng me before,
Will thinke I come (as one a fresh) acquaintance new to score.
If she whome thus I kiste, did sayle in vertues barke,
I crie you mercy then I sayde, I did mistake my marke.
No harme, she would replie: thus I a kisse would gayne,
Of those whome nere I sawe before, else was it to my payne.
And when my hand was in, with those whiche were of welth.
The tablet hanging on hir necke, sometime I gotte by stealth.
Sometime I got hir ring, sometimes hir chayne of golde,
Sometime she gaue me mony store, to bye me what I would.
Thus making vp my mouth, I made thereof a skoffe,
I counte I got it all by stealth, hir mate knew not thereof.
If hir by chaunce I met, in presence of hyr mate,
I passed by, I knew hir not, nor looked at hir gate.
Yet if he marked not, my nobbes a nodde should haue,
My Connie she would winke againe, but none should it perceaue.
If that she bitte hir lippe, thereby I knew hir harte,
I must be logging all in haste, hir husband would not starte.
And for a token true, to passe betwixt vs twayne,
Yea, for to keepe our hartes in loue, she broke a ring in twayne.
If ought I stoode in neede, this token did I sende,
At sight whereof she ready was, what might for euer lende.
Yea glad she was to bende, least hir I should forsake,
Who did hir selfe vnto my lure, so curteously betake.
Good cheere I could not wante, when gone he was from home,
Nor nothing else which pleasde mine eye (neglecting sillie mome)
This got my ranging foote, this got my glauncyng eye,
This got I say my trying tongue, whiche tolde hyr many a lye.
But now the pryme is paste, the flower of all my ioye,
Yea, now my youthful dayes are spent, and fortune seemeth coye.
Each thing most freshe of hue, in tyme of Lady Ver,
Now Titan with his parchyng beames, beginnes himselfe to ster.
Now Autumne he is paste, and Hiems cōmes in place,
My goodes are wasted whole & some, whō should I sue for grace?
What should I leane vnto? my pillers now are gone,
And eke the trulles whereto I lente, are changed euery chone.
Now must I turne my coate, and cleaue vnto my God,
Desiring pardon for my crime, that spared hath his rod.
This is the common ende, of those whiche vse the game,
Happie is he that sees the snare, and can eschewe the same.
Compare your former luste, vnto your after witte,
For wisedome sayes for Vertues schoole dame Follie is not fitte.
And tyme will force thee see, how follie did anoy,
For where dame pleasure bēt thy bowe, now fortune seemeth coy.
Thus thou at length wilt turne, if vertue giues thee grace,
If not, assure thy selfe to burne, where pleasures hydes hir face.

His Poesie.

Serò sapiunt Phryges.

The paynting of a Curtizan.

It is a worlde to see, eache feate displaying wise,
Of Venus Nimphes, of Curtizans, whom folly doth disguise.
Yea, how, and by what meanes, they doe allure the youth,
To spend vpon thē all they haue, whose beauty whettes their tooth.
Who listeth to beholde, and marke my painting penne,
Shall see their garish trickes set downe, wherby they allure the mē.
First with their lawnes, and calles of golde beset with spangs,
With died, and frizeled perewigs, with hartes fro thence that hāgs,
With veluet cappes, and plumes, they doe adorne their heddes,
With red & white they painte their face, to tice thē to there beddes.
There partlets set with spangs, come close vnto their chinne,
There gorgets fairely wrought without, inclose blacke necks wtin.
And from their eare there hangs, a pearle and siluer ring,
As for a bell, the sounde whereof, such like to hir doth bring.
About hir necke likewise, there hangeth many a chayne,
Yea, many a costly iem they weare, thats giuē thē of their trayne.
Their gownes in fashion are, there vardingales are greate,
Their gownes likewise which are so side, do sweepe alōg ye streate.
Their pompes most oft are white, their pantables are blacke,
Their wosted hose are purple blew, thus nothing do they lacke.
Their gloues are all befumde, with pure and perfect smell,
Yea, all their clothes which smels of muske, loe here she goes they tel.
Their smockes are all bewrought, about the necke & hande,
And (to be short) I tell you playne, all things in order stande.
They onely walke the streates, to see and to be seene,
Their wāton eyes caste here & there, will tell you what they bene.
But if hyr flanting lookes, hath trayned any one,
Unto the mewe wherein she keepes, along as she hath gone,
They shalbe sure to finde, all kinde of musicke there,
And she hir selfe (at his request) to play she will not spare.
Whiche doth inflame his harte, with flashing sparkes of heate,
To trie with sugred wordes, if so, his harte would cease to beate.
Then she to passe the time, at cardes will seeke to play,
Or else to tables will they goe, to driue the time away.
Then will they vaunt, and graunt, and for affinitie,
At cardes they will vye, and reuye, each their virginitie.
At Irishe game she will, contrary to the game,
At bearing beare more than she should, by proofe I know the same.
If that she taken be, with this, that byr foule play,
Then makes she straight thereof a ieste (I saw it not) to say
But with this ouersight, she doth prouoke the man,
To thinke the worste and trie the best, by all the meanes he can.
Then must she haue such cheare, as may be got for quoyne,
That by the foode of dayntie dishe, hir woes he might purloyne.
To spende and make no spare, he must himselfe incline,
No quoyne, good cheare, aray, nor gemmes, for cost he may define.
For, giue me, and fetch me, this is their dayly song,
But yet with this worde Adfer she driues him straight along.
This worde for to fulfill, he settes on sale his lande,
And nought he seeth hir wante, but buyth it out of hande.
His presence doth deserue, remembraunce for to haue,
But out of sight so out of minde: good will doth presence craue.
And if she grauntes him grace, to mitigate his woes,
His handketcher she will bewet, with water of a rose.
And then such wanton toyes, she wilbe sure to finde,
That he perswades himselfe herewith, to him she is full kinde.
Who would requyre more? it full requites his coste.
And he likewise (as proude thereof) will make thereof his boste.
Yea, yea, she treades so nice, she would not wafers breake,
And maulte horse like she beares hir mayne, ye ayre hir armes doth streake.
Thus as a floting fishe, she glides along the streete,
As laūcing ships she cuts ye seas, hir plumes the sayles doth greete.
But if by candle light, she chaunce hir selfe to showe,
Hir paynted forme so glistreth, as the starres appearde arowe.
Such cousining trickes they haue, each man for to deceaue,
That while they credite giue therto, his wordes their wits bereaue.
Wherfore let not thine eye, reduce thy wanton woe,
Nor giue no credite to their wordes, whiche honie like doe flowe.
Light wonne, light lost againe, be sure them thus to finde,
For lightly comen, so lightly gone, this is a harlots kinde.
Beleue a harlots wordes, and weaue a webbe of woe:
No credite therefore giue thereto, beleue it is not so.
She will not sticke to sweare she hath not knowen a man,
And thou alone hir maydenhed, by filed phrase haste wan.
And that no man aliue, could euer gayne his will,
When many an one, yea, evry day, of hir hath had their fill,
No man hath toucht hir skinne, excepting hande and face,
Thus will they lie with euery breath, it is their wonted grace.
Take heede therefore betime, least thou too late repent.
And curse the time that ere you knewe, thereby what folly mente.
Beleeue, my wordes are true, by proofe thou shalt them finde,
Adewe at laste, I wishe thee well, take heede of womenkinde.

The Authours Poesie.

Ne femina, ne tela, non piglia alla candela.

A Gentleman seing his brother desirous to goe to the seas, vvrote these verses following, vnwitting to any, and layed them in his brothers vvay.

I rue to see the raging of the seas,
When nothing may king Eolus wrath appease.
Boreas blastes asunder rendes our sayles:
Our tacklings breake, our ankers likewise fayles.
The surging seas, they battred haue my shippe,
And eke mine oares auayle me not a chippe.
The ropes are slackte, the maste standes nothing strong:
Thus am I toste, the surging seas along.
The waues beate in, my barke to ouerflowe,
The rugged seas, my ship will ouerthrowe.
Yea, driuen I am, sometimes against a Rocke,
Sometimes againe a Whale his backe I locke.
When Neptune thus, and Eol falles to stryfe,
Then stand I most in daunger of my lyfe.
And when the winde beginneth moste to rage,
Then out I caste (my barke for to asswage)
Each thing of waight, and then if sea at will
I chaunce to haue, I lesse regard mine ill.
If shipwrack once, I suffer in my life,
Farewell my goodes, farewell my gentle wife.
Adewe my friendes, adewe my children all,
For nought prenayles, though on your helpe I call.
First goe I to the bottome of the seas,
And thrice I rise, but nothing for mine ease.
For why? at length, when last of all I fall,
My winde doth fayle, wherewith I burst my gall.
My body then, so full as it may be
With water store, then may each man me see
All borne alofte, amid the fomyng froth,
And dryuen to lande, if Neptune waxeth wrothe.
But yet if so I cunnyng haue to swimme,
When first I fall into the water brimme:
With streakyng armes and eke with playing feete,
My parte I play the water flouddes to grete.
And then perchaunce, some shippe comes sayling bye,
Whiche saues my life, if me they doe espie.
Perchaunce likewise I drowne before they come,
Perchaunce the crampe my feete it maketh numme.
If so it dothe, then sure I am to die,
In this distresse the sea will ayde denie.
Wherefore (I wishe) who well may liue by lande,
And him forbid the sea to take in hande.

The description of the loue of a Gentleman and a Gentlevvoman.

In the tyme of Lady Ver, the sweete and fragrant smell
Of each delight, it doth a rangyng foote compell.
For when the Aprill showers, descende with westerne windes,
Each hearbe, ech floure, and plante, doe florish in their kindes.
Each leafe vpon the tree, the grasse vpon the grounde,
The Hatherne buddes new sprung, on earth what may be founde,
Doth yeelde as pleasant scentes, as nature can deuise:
All things in lusty greene, appeares displaying wise.
And eurye birde that liues, then strayneth forth his voyce:
So that of each delight, each man may take his choyce.
Thus in this merry moneth, he tooke delight to vewe,
Ought that of nature was, most pleasaunt in his hewe.
Yea, many a tyme and oft, in springs and groues alone,
Himselfe he would apply, as yet where none had gone.
There in distilling wise, she tooke delight to see,
The chirpyng birdes full ofte, from bushe to bushe to flee.
Whose warbling notes him thought, inforced to beleue,
That nothing vnder Sunne, such merry liues did liue.
In euery bushe againe, the Primerose did appeere,
The Uiolet at hande, was prest to be his feere:
Which cast such fragrant smelles, amid this pleasant spring,
That eury bushe it did, a newe delight forth bring.
But walking all alone, in this his whole delight,
The Primerose as him thought, and Uiolet did fight.
Wherewith as one amazde, at large he them behelde,
Hoping at length to see, the one or other yelde.
But lighting in a vayne, which fortune had not tryed,
Beholde euen neare at hande, a damsell he espied,
Whose beauty was so braue, and eke so Christall cleere,
That nature could not frame, the like to be hyr peere.
Hir peere I neuer sawe, for beautie in the face,
The like was neuer seene, such was hir comely grace.
And where he tooke delight, before in fragrant scente,
Now hir to gaze vpon, his minde was wholy bente.
And as good fortune would, he stoode behinde a bushe,
Where well he might beholde, and neede not starte the thrushe.
For while she tooke delight, to vewe this pleasant fielde,
He did obtayne his will, at large he hir behelde.
And nought she did suspect, for here he lay vnknowne,
Untill such time as loue, his kindling coles had blowne.
Hir rounde and cherry lippes, and eke hir skarlet hewe,
Hir crymson cheekes was cause, the more he did them vewe.
Hir rosed lookes him thought, his tentiue eares forth tolde,
The more that them he did, the more he should beholde.
So fell it forth at length, he could not haue his fill,
The more he did hir vewe, the more he wisht his will.
When long he vewed had through many a pleasant tune,
Him thought this Aprill month, was turnde to ioly June.
For in hir face him thought, the redde rose and the white,
In liuely forme did seeme, with other for to fighte.
The Columbine likewise, whiche commendable is,
With Dasies did contend, that delectable blisse.
And as a Marygolde amazde, he hyr behilde,
Untill hir dasing dentes, his rufull harte it filde.
Then out alasse he cried, but all it was in vayne,
His harte fro him was gone, and did with hir remayne.
This damsell single was, and eke did wante a mate,
And he to feede hyr reume, did wante a dayntie date.
But yet his harte was good, and loue did make him bolde,
He spared not at length, his meanyng to vnfolde.
For hir he went vnto, and greeted in this wise,
Alhayle deare dame he sayde, the chiefe of vertues pryse.
I see that Lady Ver, with sweete and fragrant scente,
Inflames your harte to see, whereto dame nature lente.
The Nightingale likewise, with hyr recorded song,
Hath giuen you this desire, this groue to walke along.
For now each thing that is, doth florishe in his kinde,
And is of force (me thinkes) to recreate the minde.
And eke no greater health, vpon the earth is founde,
Then early and late to walke, vpon this pleasaunt grounde:
The scente whereof will so, restore your liuely bloud,
That you your selfe will say, therefore tis very good.
A thousande fancies more, for to delight the minde,
Within this pleasaunt groue, by walking you may finde.
A floure by chaunce I spie, whose beautie freshe and gay,
Doth force against my will, what I to you doe say.
It rauisht hath my wittes, wherefore I craue your ayde,
Herewith my garlande make, let me not be denayed.
For you the floure are, wherewith agast I stande,
And choyce there resteth none, for beautie at your hande.
With you my harte shall reste, when as my corpse is slayne,
Take pitie on my woe, take pittie on my payne.
At which she floode agast, not knowing what to say,
She soone with loue was prickte, and coulde not say me nay.
So friendly Venus is, so friendly Cupid was,
That fancie brought hir soone, vnto my wisshed passe.
She answered againe, a floure likewise I see,
Wherein the profe declares, my constant harte to be.
And where I heretofore, was movde by many a voyce,
Yet none my hart coulde gayne, so curious was my choyce.
The sap now creepeth vp, and vapors do increace,
Lust doth inforce the fleshe, to warre and not to peace.
When Ver is in hyr pryme, each one desires a mate:
And now the thing doth please, whiche I before did hate.
For earst I did detest, to see a gallant dame,
But now I take delight, of thee to heare the name.
And sithe that none before, did please my gazing eye,
Untill such time I did, your presence here espie.
So now your loue I craue, my loue for to requite,
Least cause I haue to curse, the canckred Cupides spight.
Betake your selfe I say, vnto a trustie friende,
In me repose such trust, as ye in me shall finde.
For why, in you I liue, and in my selfe I dye:
Whiche as a rampire is, your loue agayne to trye.
My harmes so huge would crie, if it I should not gayne,
And none aliue I thinke, should suffer the like payne.
But hope a Castle is, for me to winter in,
And biddes me not to feare, nor yet my suyte to lin.
With this she walked home, vnto hir mansion place:
And all the way he sued, of hir to purchace grace.
Who fancide him asmuch, as he did fancie hyr,
Though it she kept vnknowne, as best was thought to hyr.
The end it tried all, such loue to him she bare,
He was hir whole delight for him was all hir care.
His sight it did hir good, his absence bredde anoye,
His presence was hir meate, hir drinke, and all hir ioye.
For if he missing were, at most but halfe a day,
Hir eyes like springs of teares would runne in like aray.
Or else lyke Xanthus streames, hir tricklyng teares ran downe,
As salte as brine, and eke hir skalding sighes vnknowne,
Most ready were sometimes, to ende hir lothsome life,
Or els in haste she callde for Atropos hir knife.
Thus nothing was to much for him that was so kynde,
And yet the more he sought, the lesse his lucke to finde.
Suche peeuishe lucke had he, in vayne to spende his winde,
That, looke the more he ranne, the more he came behinde.
Ioue would it so, I thinke, dame fortune beyng coye,
Delay it daunger bred, and absence bredde anoye.
Though eyther was most true, and faithfull eke in harte,
If fortune turne hyr whele, then pleasure is but tarte.
So quaynte by proofe she was, and totling in hir chaunce,
That where Dame pleasure stoode, she rygor did aduaunce.
For why? it hapned so, the trumpe of Muse had blowne,
Unto hir eares, that he far forth was better knowne
To other than to hir, and eke betrothed had
His hande, his harte, and faith vnto an other Dame,
So that she did dispayre, and yet he not in blame.
But farther it was noysde, that he nought else did seeke
Of hir, but for to haue his pleasure for a weeke.
Whiche though it was most false, and blased in despight,
Yet it hir rauisht had of all hir fore delight.
For she beleeued straight, how that these wordes were true,
And in this wise began to rage and eke to rue.
Haue I long fostred vp, a naughtie soaring Hauke.
That now forsakes the lure, when I to hir it shake?
May whistling nought preuayle, needes wilt thou checke at fiste,
Then soare alofte at will, and take thee vp whose liste.
In deede thy slicknesse shewed, thou wast a rolling stone,
Wherefore adewe my ioy, sith needes thou wilt be gone.
Sithe fortune was so quaynte, and nothing could preuayle,
With griefe she curste hir hap, and thus began to rayle.
An other hath my right, and it inioyes perforce,
The Goddes reuenge it wil, for this thy sought deuorce.
Take heede ye Ladies all, on whome ye let your loue,
See that he constant be, for so it dothe behoue.
Too late now am I wise, be warned all by mee,
By others harmes, beware the snare ye do not see.
The beste that now I can, is others to forewarne,
Least they as I haue done, do light in such like harme.
Wherefore I wishe you all, whom Cupid doth assault.
Him to deuide in twayne, least through your owne default,
To late you do repent, the force of Cupids bowe,
And curse the time ye wist, what Venus meant to know.
And learne each one by me, whiche way to frame your loue,
Be constant, iust and true, as is the turtle Doue.
But yet beware on whome, ye let your loue to light,
Least want of rendring like, both put your ioyes to flight.
Know first his nature well, and then repose your trust,
Let nothing be to deare, if so yee finde him iust.
Spende not your loue on those, that will it not requite,
For why? that wante of loue, it can no one delight.
Thus ponder well my wordes, let Pallas be your guyde,
Least that in wanton lust, your feete beginne to slyde,
Adewe my pleasures all, adewe my chiefe delight,
Loue hath me wounded now, and put you all to flight.
Wherefore.
Yee Tigres whelpes vnkinde, and eke yee rauening Wolues,
The Stigian poole and eke, the Acherontes gulues.
Yea, yea, the Manticors, the Lyons in their rage,
Cerborus, Alecto, with the Leopardes sauage.
And (to be shorte) drawe neare, yet furies all of Hell,
Yee Fayries with the reste, elsewhere where so you dwell.
And Clotho now leaue off, thy distaffe aye to hed,
Lachesis sitte still, and spinne no longer thred.
But Atropos make haste, and with thy shredding knyfe,
Asunder cut the threede, which doth prolong my lyfe.
For why? Milecian maydes, your steppes I meane to trace,
And as Lucrecia did, my lyfe for to vnlace.
Wherefore ye dolefull dumpes, and eke ye Ladies all,
Come rue the wretched chaunce, whiche did to me befall.
Come Heraclitus nowe, to weepe and eke to wayle,
And Ladies now to rue, hoyste vp your mourning sayle.
Melpomene likewise, now take thy penne in hande,
In mourning wise to paint, how fortune doth withstande.
Likewise I thee beseeche, Sulpicia of Rome,
Some poste to indite, to set vpon my tome.
That all whiche heares or sees, may rue my wretched cace,
And know the cause wherefore, my life I did vnlace.
This sayde, with bloudy hande, she tooke hir dyrefull knife,
And to hir harte it thrust, to ende hir lothsome life.
Whiche blowne vnto his eares, he rued in raging wise,
But nought he could withstande, hir fonde and foolish guyse.
Why liue I on the earth, that thus am lefte alone?
Why seeke I not to die, and first to make my mone?
Alas my gem of ioy, and eke my Dymande deere,
Ah fountayne of delight, as dead why liest thou heere.
What shall of me become, my ioyes exiled are,
My harte with griefe will burst, hope lodged is so farre.
Hath Paris, Leander, Pyrame or Troylus,
Aye truer bene than I, to thee my prety mus?
Pesistratus in fayth, or Romeus in truth?
What cause then hast thou had, to fall in such a ruth?
These wordes are but in vayne, I do but seeke to drowne
Thy crased corps in teares, of certaine this is knowne.
It shall not aye be sayde, that thou for me shalt die,
For I the like to doe, thy former deede will trie.
Bloud shall be shedde for bloud, and life shall pay for lyfe,
I haue like force I know, like hande, and eke like knyfe.
With lyke, adewe my ghost, adewe my latter breath,
Adewe each pleasure that is founde vpon the earth.
Yet Ladies thus much graunt, our corpse one tome to haue,
One Epitaphe thereon, this onely thing I craue.
This sayde, he kiste hir corpse, ten thousand times and more,
With teares he fillde those woundes, that greeued him full sore.
He callde vpon hir name, ten thousand times and more,
But life it yeelded had to cruel death his lore.
Hir eyes they were clong fast, prest downe with heauie death,
Adewe my deare he saydt, and thus he stopte his breath.

A Song whiche the Gentlewoman made, before she slevve hir selfe.

An answere to a letter written vnto him by a Curtyzan.

A bottome for your silke it seemes
my letters are become,
Whiche with oft winding off and on
are wasted whole and some.
Who nilling other for to finde
but through my paintyng penne,
Thereto to giue occasion
to wryte you will not lenne.
And sith you take such great delight
my bottomes for to spende,
Beholde now grauntyng to your will,
an other here I sende.
Ne sutor vltra crepidam,
I giue this phrase to vewe,
Forbidding Sowters to exceede,
the clowting of a shooe.
Tis seldome seene a Swan to diue,
of Morehennes had bene best
For you to talke, although you seeme
that name for to detest.
Dianas troupe it best may blase
the Swan of Menander,
It best becomes your penne to paynte
the Gose and the gander.
Whose tongue dothe runne before your witte,
and shewes, fooles boltes sone shotte:
You would a good Virgillian be,
if Vir in place were not.
Sometime if Ouid tooke delight
to prayse the hasell Nutte,
If Virgill vaunting of his Gnat,
why doe not I forth put
My selfe to paynt thy iuggling trickes?
secluding dalliaunce,
Who knowes so well thy legerdemaynes
with false conueyance.
You are Meduse that feendlike mare,
no more a Curtizan,
You are no more a soaryng Hauke,
what then, a chaste Diane?
Not so, what then? the rampyng flie,
who vauntes on euery dishe
Whereon he lightes, and sowes his seedes,
a bayte for those that fishe.
For with your preuy winkes, and noddes,
yea with your smyling lookes,
With wanton toyes, and sugred wordes,
whiche are your chiefest hookes:
With Demi grauntes, and weake denayes,
to those that craue good will,
Thou doest prouoke the bashfull youthes,
a Uirgins rule to spill.
For sure such is thy change with choyce,
and eke thy choyce to change,
That it inforceth many an one
his wanton wittes to range.
Thy beautie as a trumpet is
this Larum forth to sounde,
Tantara, tara, Tantara,
whiche when it dothe rebounde
Intentiue eares, of force it is
each man for to delight,
And biddes them stoupe vnto thy lure
to put their cares to flight.
Then Alleluya they crie,
with downe, downe, downe, downe,
Terlyterlowe, terlyterlowe,
pype downe, downe, down, downe,
If so the hunte be vp, then sounde,
tathane, tathane, inough.
I see it is the houndes doe yelpe,
bowgh, bowgh, baugh, baugh, baugh, baugh.
The game is dead, beate off the houndes,
rate, rate, hawe, hawe, dead, dead.
They spoyle the hare, tis nothing worthe,
they mangle all his head.
You know my minde, how beauties pryce
contendeth still with lust,
Affection yet once sette aside,
layes pleasure in the dust.
Farewell and thus adewe.
Sound trumpe Aleluya,
At th' ende of Tatatantara,
To ioy my pleasant Dallyda,
So clothed with the Lillie.

A song of a Louer, wherein he shewes his loue tovvarde his Lady.

A newe Married man being stung vvith vvedlocke, declareth his minde Cantico more, vpon this texte: Content your selfe as well as I, let reason rule your minde, As Cuckoldes come by destinie, so Cuckowes sing by kinde.

When as Aurora in the morne, did buskle vp to ryse,
And Lucifer that brode day Star, did vaunce himself in skies.
I gan Morpheus to resist, and eke his mace to skorne,
Murcea likewise stept aside, and I as one new borne.
In stretchyng forth my slouthfull limmes, amid my naked bedde,
Began to thinke opprest with care, whiche way my life to leade.
For thryce seuen times the Lady Ver, had florisht in hir pryme,
And thryce seuen times Dan Estas he, appeared in my time.
No lesse likewise had Autumne he, by course me shewed his face,
With hoary Hyems at his trayne according to his grace.
Which when I saw how Time did passe, and balde he was behind,
I thought it best my selfe tapply, his former bushe to finde,
And founde, thereon to lay fast holde, bicause he flittes away,
For time and tide it tarieth none, nor keepeth at a stay.
Thus musing much wt masing mind, which way for me wer best,
At length I founde that harde it was, for ought to liue at rest.
For if dame Pleasure streake mine oare, in this my youthfull race,
Swete meat sharp sauce, I know requirs no iudgmēt in this cace.
And what though Venus graunts me grace? nought therby shal I gaine,
Such pleasures lasteth but a time, & yet they do aske paine.
And then if so affection fonde, within my brest should raygne,
A Lion in an Asses skinne my harte it should retayne.
Whereof Valerius doth reporte, that Aristophnes once,
In templis Acharontijs made prayers for the nonce.
That he in Charons ferry boate might passe the Stygian lake,
To Plutos grysly gates of Hell: which for his daughters sake
He did obtayne, through fayned loue, which he to them did beare,
Alecto, and Tisiphone, Megera: these for feare
He flattered much, to whome I know such credite did they giue,
That they him taught with sops to feede (if so he sought to liue)
The Triceps head of Cerberus the porter of his gate,
But see within thou stay not long, least forth thou come to late.
This councell did he keepe ful well, and as they had him tought
He did, and saw what was his will, he founde eke what he sought.
But what he foūd that restes vnknowne, but when he came againe
Unto Thatheniensians, he gan to warne them playne,
For wanton Lions fostryng vp within the Citie walles,
Least while they thinke of Melt to feede, they taste of bitter galles,
Thus likyng breedes extremitie, lulld in affections lappe,
And looke what others pleaseth moste, therein I finde least sappe.
Alas what one can frame himselfe his youthfull race to spende,
All in Mineruas comely courte? doth not Diana bende
Sometime vnto Dame pleasures lawes? how then cā I withstād
The firie force of Cupides bowe? doth not dame Venus stande
At Beauties barre with comly crewes & routes of dayntie dames?
Whose smiling lookes & prāking toyes, doth cast such fiery flames
Before my greedy glauncing eyes, that rolleth here and there,
That I poore soule do rest betrayde, as doth the fearfull hare.
What shall I do poore sillie sotte? make answere in this cace:
Where are thy wittes as now become, that arte so wan of face?
If so they wandring be abrode, then call them home againe,
A counsell generall to holde it asketh them no payne.
Therein determine of my life, how I the same shall leade,
But yet determine of thy selfe that perfite path to treade,
That leades vnto the perfite ioyes, else thou thy selfe beshrowe
Mayst soone perchaunce, & vnawares the paine therof shalt know.
Thus beyng set in counsell graue, this counsell did they giue,
That I my running head to stay, and eke at ease to liue,
A wife should wedde (oh waylfull woe) what could haue chaunced wurse?
The wedded man best liues at ease, when fast bounde in his purse
He hath the tongue of wedded wife, else will she clatter so,
Bothe to his face and at his backe, that gladde he is to goe
His way and leaue hyr all alone, for why a shrewishe tongue,
Is like vnto an Aspen leafe, that nothing vayles to clangue.
But yet for this they councellde me a wedded wife to take,
That I the fishe of cōmon sewer might whole and cleane forsake.
I was content, my wittes did serue, and would me so to doe,
To wiue I wente, as bootelesse bente, a goslyng for to shoe.
For looke whose wife in beautie braue, doth passe the middle sorte,
Each thinkes hir nought, a secrete whore, and giues hir this report.
But further yet of wiues to speake, thus much I haue to say,
Whose wife in welth hir mate exceedes, she then wil beare ye sway,
And treade vpon hir husbandes crowne, as for hir feete to lowe,
Thou mightst haue beggde, this will she say (if so she be a shrowe)
If not for me, thou knowest full well, thus will she beare the rule,
And weare the breeches of hir mate, as wrapt in Friers cule.
I did deserue a better man than euer thou wilt be,
Why seekste thou then thy whole affayres or ought to hide fro me?
Why should not I thy councell be, without restraint of will?
So ought it be, and so it shall, till pleasure hath his fill.
Then she disdayning of hir matche, some one will soone procure,
To pay the boxe, and eke with salue, hir former wounde to cure.
To Cuckoldes hall she will him sende, as warden for to be,
With grifted hornes vpon his head, as euery one may see.
Hir husbandes wealth shall wasted be, vpon hyr bilbowe boyes,
Thus ouerfayre, and all to riche, doe wante no tedious toyes.
Then who so wiues, whome beauty wāts, be she ere poore or ritche,
He will hir lothe, she can not please, she is not for his pitche.
Thus whiche way can a maried man at this day liue at ease,
When neyther faire, the foule, nor riche, his fancy fond may please?
Yet I a merry meane did finde, which is a berry Browne,
Browne and louely (thus they say) she only beares the crowne.
If so it be (as Goddes it graunt) then am I all to wedde,
For Browne and louely haue I cought, taccompany me in bedde.
New married wiues and yong men too, do thinke the day is long,
Wherein they wedded be, and wishe for wante of other song
The night were come, & so did I, that Phebus to the west,
With steedes were drawne on chariot wheles, and there to take his rest.
His course was done, & Vesper she with Luna playde their partes,
Whiche pleasde vs well, for ioyes approcht, most meete for louing harts,
But passing forth this pleasāt night, wt louely tricks I say,
Alas to soone dan Phebus he did shewe, that it was day.
And with his radiant glittering beames began for to display,
It was not meete for louers, yet so timely for to ryse,
But for to chat an houre or two, this is their wonted guyse:
And playing thus with wātō toyes, ye Cuckow bad good morow,
Alas thought I, a token tis, for me to liue in sorrow:
Cuckow sang he, Cuckow sayd I, what destiny is this?
Who so it heares, he well may thinke, it is no sacred blisse.
Alas (quoth she) what cause haue you, as yet thus for to say,
In Cuckow time few haue a charme, to cause his tongue to stay.
Wherfore,
Content your selfe as well as I, let reason rule your minde,
As Cuckolds come by destiny, so Cuckowes sing by kinde.

The Louer forsaken, bewayleth his chaunce.

If euer man had cause to wayle,
then haue I cause to mourne,
Who ioyes to see my vowed foe,
I like and am forlorne.
I serue where no acceptance is
and haue this seuen yeares space,
And thryce seuen in yeares I would hir serue
in hope to purchace grace.
But all alas it is in vayne,
I like but to my coste,
For why the loue I haue bestowed
I count it is but loste.
I take delight to vewe that face
whiche yeeldes my deadly wounde,
I loue to serue in loyall thrall
although no thankes are founde.
O gulfes of care, O dolefull dumpes
that sore oppresse my harte,
Why doe yee runne in ragyng wise,
haue I deserude a parte?
No no, I see tis bootelesse now
for me to call or crye,
For none I see doth rest aliue
whose ayde I meane to trye.
Hir breath alone it doth suffise
to ende my lothsome lyfe,
For why the Coccatryce tis lyke
and I deserue no wyfe.
Sith Fortune quaynte hath graunted so,
needes must I be content,
No way there is for to withstande
the chaunce she hath me sent.
Sithe tis my hap my ioyes to cease
dame Pleasure now adewe,
And dolefull dumpes approch at hande
my wretched case to rewe.

I. G. biddeth his friende A. T. good morrovve.

Ave madama, good morrow if it please.
Bone iour ma mestresse did you lie at ease?
Dieu vou done bone iour, will nothing make you speake?
What rest haue you taken? your minde to me breake.
What nothing but mum? an Almon for parrot,
Speake Parrot I pray thee, may nothing be got?
Your pillow misliketh, else care hath forbid,
Your eyes to be sleepyng, while pleasure is hid.
Else saith Murcea, the sleepe is in thine eyes,
Disdayne else forbiddeth (through vanities cryes)
To bid me good morrowe, if harte will not breake,
Then say but Aueto: I like when you speake.
Comporte vou maddam? in French you doe excell.
Bien fire gramercy, this likes me very well.
Ie suis bien aise pour vou voye in bone sante:
I am glad to see that your breath is not fainte.
And sith that you speake, now for my god morrowe,
Ie vou prie de bon ceur, take this that I owe,
A verse tis or twayne, wherewith I meane to greete,
Your mornings firste flight as loue hath thought it meete.
Perliez bien ou perliez rien, you know my minde:
Nothing will I speake, whiche shall not seeme full kinde.
As hoarie Hyems froste, keepes backe with pining payne,
Eache braue delight, till Ver doth shewe hir face agayne:
Thy goyng so to bedde doth put my ioyes to flight,
Till mornyng doth appeare, wherefore I hate goodnight.
For as the fallyng sap whiche creepes into the earth,
Disgrace the trees vntill returne of Ver hir bearth:
As naked seemes the trees whiche gallant were of hew:
So naked seemes the house when layde thou arte in mew.
Thy bedde is lyke thy graue, the earth presents the sheetes:
The frisking fleas are like, the wormes dead corpse which greetes.
But when the liuely sap creepes vp in blowing thorne,
And each delight doth seeme to laugh the frost to scorne:
As Ver most freshe of hue, sendes forth hir newe delightes,
With iust returne, and greetes vs all with pleasant sightes:
So doth Aurora seeme, his giftes for to bestowe,
Although to Lady Ver he be a gree belowe.
For as the spring delights each thing vpon the earth,
Whiche moueth them to wishe and call vpon hir bearth:
So doth the morne (me thinkes) vnclose and eke vnbinde,
Each thing whiche in the night, are closed in their kynde.
And nothing greenes me more, than when the night drawes on,
For then I know full well we sunder must anone.
And then in vayne I wishe the morne for aye remayne,
That then my pleasure loste I might enioy agayne.
For in the morne (me thinkes) I see the sap creepes vp,
Whiche to my will dothe seeke with ioyes to fill my cup.
As great is my delight to vewe thy comely face,
As is the birdes, to see the Lady Ver in place.
And eury morne by course doth shewe me thee agayne,
Whereas the night before vs parted hath in twayne.
The brydegrome in his course doth take no more delight,
Than I doe dayly take, of thee to haue a sight.
Aue I say therefore, I ioy to see thy face:
Aueto to reply, this poynt I aske of grace:
For whyle my life doth last, with thee my harte shall rest,
And for thy sake I will, all other choyce detest.
For sure it is in time, the brasen walles will starte,
And eke the water flouddes the craggy rockes will parte.
In time the watrishe droppes, we see doth perce the stone,
Wherefore I hope to finde, as yet where loue is none.
This salutation print it within thy brest,
And (as deserte deserues) therein so let it rest.
As tyme it trieth troth, so then repose thy trust,
I craue good will for aye, and not to serue my lust.

His good night to the same A. T.

I brone in griefe my towre of truste
to set Morpheus mace:
For needes it will deuide vs bothe
though for a litle space.
Yet can it not so litle be,
though for an howre or twayne,
But sure me thinkes it is a yeare,
asunder to remayne.
For goyng to thy naked bedde
thou goest to thy graue:
And euery thing resembleth right
the course whiche death doth craue.
Within thy face consistes my ioyes,
within thy harte my lyfe,
When death dothe call vpon thy corpse
then doe I ende my lyfe.
At night my ioyes beginne to ende,
by cause we must departe:
And dolefull dumpes oppresse my minde,
so lothe I am to starte.
And when of force departe we must,
with lingring steppes I goe:
For why thy sweete abode I wishe
whose wante doth breede my woe.
My heauy hart within my corpse
loth to departe doth daunce:
And in my moning mynde me thinkes
whole barkes of care doth launce.
Thy mewe it is a hauen of hope
whereto I cleaue and holde:
Holde Cable ropes, and Ancor faste
for hope dothe make me bolde.
Sith dryuen by drifte we must departe,
Morpheus thus muche graunt,
That all the night I dreame on hyr
whome in the day I haunt.
And that in liuely forme hyr face
before me may appeare,
So that I may perswade my selfe
shee were in presence here.
I would imbracyng in mine armes
I could my selfe perswade,
For sure it were a golden dreame
to walke in suche a shade.
Shall I not lull thee in my lappe
as well by night as day?
Though not, I hope thy harte fro mine
it will not goe astray.
For why I beare thee in my brest
and will while lyfe dothe laste,
My harte to thyne I vowe by othe
it shall be linked faste.
And lette one corpse two faythfull hartes
shrowde vp yea all in one.
We linger time and all in vayne
of force we must be gone.
Good night therefore, God sende you rest,
and eke Hartes ease at will.
God graunt your ioyes they may increase,
also the worlde at will.
In health the Goddes prolong thy lyfe,
of wealth to haue thy fill.
Good fame I say and good reporte,
according to their will.
With heauy cheere I bidde good night,
tyme calleth vs away:
Against my will we must departe,
and that without delay.

His Farewell to the same.