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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 | The Golden Aphroditis |  |
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.
That follie harvesth truth dothe tell.
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 Golden Aphroditis | |