The Golden Aphroditis A pleasant discourse, penned by John Grange ... Whereunto be annexed by the same Authour asvvell certayne Metres upon sundry poyntes, as also divers Pamphlets in prose, which he entituleth His Garden: pleasant to the eare, and delightful to the Reader, if he abuse not the scente of the floures |
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A valiant yong Gentleman beyng trayned vp in Martiall provves, and allured by euill counsell to womens follies, bewayleth his life in this order.
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 | The Golden Aphroditis |  |
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,
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 wellThat 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.
Tace commoui.
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.
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,
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 Golden Aphroditis | |