The Rocke of Regard diuided into foure parts. The first, the Castle of delight: Wherein is reported, the wretched end of wanton and dissolute liuing. The second, the Garden of Vnthriftinesse: Wherein are many sweete flowers, (or rather fancies) of honest loue. The thirde, the Arbour of Vertue: Wherein slaunder is highly punished, and vertuous Ladies and Gentlewomen, worthily commended. The fourth, the Ortchard of Repentance: Wherein are discoursed, the miseries that followe dicing, the mischiefes of quareling, the fall of prodigalitie: and the souden ouerthrowe of foure notable cousners, with diuers other morall, natural, & tragical discourses: documents and admonitions being all the inuention, collection and translation of George Whetstons |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
The complaint of one Lyros a notable Cousener,
supposed at the houre of his death.
|
 | The Rocke of Regard |  |
105
The complaint of one Lyros a notable Cousener, supposed at the houre of his death.
Amonge
their falles, by filthie fraude which fell,
Let my mishappe, registred be I pray,
Whose wanton toyes, whose wily trickes to tell,
But cheefe of all, whose wofull plight to wray,
No doubt the lewde, will bring to better stay,
For whose behoofe, loe here I paint my thrall,
My happ, my harme, my life, my death and all.
Let my mishappe, registred be I pray,
Whose wanton toyes, whose wily trickes to tell,
But cheefe of all, whose wofull plight to wray,
No doubt the lewde, will bring to better stay,
For whose behoofe, loe here I paint my thrall,
My happ, my harme, my life, my death and all.
Noe shame it is for mee to showe my euill,
Though gracelesse life, from wisedomes lore did swerue.
A sinne it were to liue and die a deuill,
So soule and all, with Tantals hope should sterue,
My warning here, for others heede may serue:
Fresh harmes they say, will force men to beware,
When had I wist, comes after still the faire.
Though gracelesse life, from wisedomes lore did swerue.
A sinne it were to liue and die a deuill,
So soule and all, with Tantals hope should sterue,
My warning here, for others heede may serue:
Fresh harmes they say, will force men to beware,
When had I wist, comes after still the faire.
Then couseners first, to you my tale I streach,
God graunt my wordes, to heale your woundes auaile,
But you will say, my selfe doth neede a Leach,
To heire my head, to helpe eche perisht naile,
To ridde my scabbes, my Leprosie to scaile,
To cleare my eyes, which are now darke and dim,
My nummed ioyntes, to make both lith and trim.
God graunt my wordes, to heale your woundes auaile,
But you will say, my selfe doth neede a Leach,
To heire my head, to helpe eche perisht naile,
To ridde my scabbes, my Leprosie to scaile,
To cleare my eyes, which are now darke and dim,
My nummed ioyntes, to make both lith and trim.
I neede God wot, if neede could fauour winne,
But out alas, too late doth come the cure,
When God is bent to punish filthie sinne,
Though longe hee stayes in fine hee striketh sure,
Best therefore then, ere you his wrath procure,
You see your helpe (with his precept agree)
Ante languorem, medicinam adhibe.
But out alas, too late doth come the cure,
When God is bent to punish filthie sinne,
Though longe hee stayes in fine hee striketh sure,
Best therefore then, ere you his wrath procure,
You see your helpe (with his precept agree)
Ante languorem, medicinam adhibe.
106
Prouide a salue, before that sicknes come,
Prouide a mends, for sinne and foule amisse,
Before Gods wrath, your due desert doth dome,
For note deare friends, I whilome bathde in blisse,
I swam in ioy, my heart at woe did hisse,
I then had strength, with health, and wealth at will.
My hap was cleare, I sawe no clowdes of ill.
Prouide a mends, for sinne and foule amisse,
Before Gods wrath, your due desert doth dome,
For note deare friends, I whilome bathde in blisse,
I swam in ioy, my heart at woe did hisse,
I then had strength, with health, and wealth at will.
My hap was cleare, I sawe no clowdes of ill.
Then muse you will, to see so rare a chaunge,
As manly force, to faile in prime of youth,
As faire to foule, as health to scabbes and maunge,
As hap to harme, as ioy to greefe and ruth,
But listen well and marke what woordes ensuthe,
And you shall see what forced mee to fall,
What wrought my woe, what turnde by ioy to thrall.
As manly force, to faile in prime of youth,
As faire to foule, as health to scabbes and maunge,
As hap to harme, as ioy to greefe and ruth,
But listen well and marke what woordes ensuthe,
And you shall see what forced mee to fall,
What wrought my woe, what turnde by ioy to thrall.
First weene that wealth did puffe mee vp with pride,
Next forme and force, enforst me to aspire,
Then loue and lust, into my brest did glide,
Last fretting thought so set my heart on fire,
That mariage needes, must coole my hoate desire,
My choice was good, if chaunge had beene exilde,
But follie, faith and fancie, truth begilde.
Next forme and force, enforst me to aspire,
Then loue and lust, into my brest did glide,
Last fretting thought so set my heart on fire,
That mariage needes, must coole my hoate desire,
My choice was good, if chaunge had beene exilde,
But follie, faith and fancie, truth begilde.
My wandring will directed mee this course,
Which brainesicke youth, did duelie treade and trace,
And entred once, I fell from bad to worse,
I made a pray, of euery yeelding face,
Such wanton lust, doth follow want of grace,
Ne was this life, defrayde with small expence,
And I (God wott) had not a mine of pence.
Which brainesicke youth, did duelie treade and trace,
And entred once, I fell from bad to worse,
I made a pray, of euery yeelding face,
Such wanton lust, doth follow want of grace,
Ne was this life, defrayde with small expence,
And I (God wott) had not a mine of pence.
While coyne did last, yet carelesse did I spend,
A poore increase, can spring on such a roote,
When coyne was spent ne did my fancies end,
With youth to striue, for reason t'was no boote,
No lacke could treade my follies vnder foote:
While land did last, my want I did supplie,
With purchases, of Dedi, concessi.
A poore increase, can spring on such a roote,
When coyne was spent ne did my fancies end,
With youth to striue, for reason t'was no boote,
No lacke could treade my follies vnder foote:
107
With purchases, of Dedi, concessi.
My liuing sould, and monie in my purse,
My lauish minde, had neuer thought of lacke,
To gelt or saue, I quite forgot the course,
For euery toy my Testours went to wracke,
Which did my bagges, vnto the bottome sacke,
My coyne consumde, and yearely rents thus gone,
What refuge then? once credite had I none.
My lauish minde, had neuer thought of lacke,
To gelt or saue, I quite forgot the course,
For euery toy my Testours went to wracke,
Which did my bagges, vnto the bottome sacke,
My coyne consumde, and yearely rents thus gone,
What refuge then? once credite had I none.
Yet liue I must, neede doth obey no lawe,
To worke for wealth, yet wist I not the way,
The scourge for sinne, did keepe mee still in awe,
I durst not steale, for feare of Tyborne play,
And other shiftes, I knewe not to assay,
But to be short, to soone, to soone t'was knowne,
My will was good, to take more then mine owne.
To worke for wealth, yet wist I not the way,
The scourge for sinne, did keepe mee still in awe,
I durst not steale, for feare of Tyborne play,
And other shiftes, I knewe not to assay,
But to be short, to soone, to soone t'was knowne,
My will was good, to take more then mine owne.
Then wily mates, whose subtile eyes did see,
In yonkers states, and markt, their youthfull vaine,
Made choice of mee, the Instrument to bee,
In wanton trackes, vnwayed youthes to traine,
Their wiles, my wishe, so sweete was speach of gaine,
My tongue was good, my manhoode had in price,
My life was lewde, I knewe and vsde eche vice.
In yonkers states, and markt, their youthfull vaine,
Made choice of mee, the Instrument to bee,
In wanton trackes, vnwayed youthes to traine,
Their wiles, my wishe, so sweete was speach of gaine,
My tongue was good, my manhoode had in price,
My life was lewde, I knewe and vsde eche vice.
Companion fitt, for rufflers nowe adayes,
Whose wills rule witt, and rage, doth reason yoke,
Of which I searcht, a crue of thriftlesse strayes,
Whom lewdly I to lewdnes did prouoke,
They bitt my baite, but other did them choke,
I bore the name, when others layde the bane,
The shame was mine, and others gleande the gaine.
Whose wills rule witt, and rage, doth reason yoke,
Of which I searcht, a crue of thriftlesse strayes,
Whom lewdly I to lewdnes did prouoke,
They bitt my baite, but other did them choke,
I bore the name, when others layde the bane,
The shame was mine, and others gleande the gaine.
But, Oh, I sigh, to wray what wrought my thrall,
O Plasmos nowe, I swoone through thought of thee,
I must confesse, the goad that did the gall,
Was too too sharpe for friendship thine so free,
I turnde my coate, ere thou couldst fettered bee,
My wanton toyes, could hardly thee intrap,
My falsed trust (aye mee) wrought thy ill hap.
O Plasmos nowe, I swoone through thought of thee,
108
Was too too sharpe for friendship thine so free,
I turnde my coate, ere thou couldst fettered bee,
My wanton toyes, could hardly thee intrap,
My falsed trust (aye mee) wrought thy ill hap.
And must I shewe, wherein I was iniust?
Shame sayes, conceale, my conscience wil not soe,
I was a friend, whose treason quited trust,
A counseller lewde, that wrought my clientes woe,
Where I was lou'd, I hated saue in shoe,
Yea twise accurst, for mucke his life I sought,
Whose bloud and good, for me hee ventred oft.
Shame sayes, conceale, my conscience wil not soe,
I was a friend, whose treason quited trust,
A counseller lewde, that wrought my clientes woe,
Where I was lou'd, I hated saue in shoe,
Yea twise accurst, for mucke his life I sought,
Whose bloud and good, for me hee ventred oft.
I forged deedes, when fayled free consent,
I rased roules, to mend what hast did marre,
I put in vre, what coemates mine inuent,
My woordes, were graue, as firme my friendship ware,
And yet forsooth, to showe what mould I bare,
I prou'de it true, how Cito ad suam.
Redierint, res fictæ naturam.
I rased roules, to mend what hast did marre,
I put in vre, what coemates mine inuent,
My woordes, were graue, as firme my friendship ware,
And yet forsooth, to showe what mould I bare,
I prou'de it true, how Cito ad suam.
Redierint, res fictæ naturam.
For though my weedes, foreshewde a settled minde,
God knowes, my woorkes, my wanton humour wraide,
The wyser sort, my follies soone did finde,
They sawe full well, my fancies were not staide,
Yet Plasmos hee of fraude was not afraide,
And truth to tell, I baynde him with such baite,
As hardly hee, could smell out my deceite.
God knowes, my woorkes, my wanton humour wraide,
The wyser sort, my follies soone did finde,
They sawe full well, my fancies were not staide,
Yet Plasmos hee of fraude was not afraide,
And truth to tell, I baynde him with such baite,
As hardly hee, could smell out my deceite.
Wise officers, my falsehoode yet suspect,
To purchase land, they thought my store to small,
And all to late, to Plasmos they detect,
(As they supposde) I sought to worke his thrall,
Their sorrie newes, did nip him to the gall,
Who like a man of hope, of helpe dismayde,
Reportes the trust, through which I him betraide.
To purchase land, they thought my store to small,
And all to late, to Plasmos they detect,
(As they supposde) I sought to worke his thrall,
Their sorrie newes, did nip him to the gall,
Who like a man of hope, of helpe dismayde,
Reportes the trust, through which I him betraide.
109
Our foule deceite amas'de the hearers much,
They Plasmos wild, from greement kept aloofe,
That open shame our villanies might tuch.
Our falles would be a warning of behoofe,
Our fraude thus found, before it came to proofe,
What course were best? should wee confesse our fault?
Noe, noe: wee ment to bide the first assault.
They Plasmos wild, from greement kept aloofe,
That open shame our villanies might tuch.
Our falles would be a warning of behoofe,
Our fraude thus found, before it came to proofe,
What course were best? should wee confesse our fault?
Noe, noe: wee ment to bide the first assault.
In euery Court our cousenages did ring.
Which bouldly wee, vppon our othes denide,
For wee that dar'd commit so foule a thing,
Uppon our othes, ne cared though wee lyde,
Yet durst wee not abide till trueth were tride,
In couseners clyffes, wee feard sol fa to chaunt,
Howe so wee seemde, on honestie to vaunt.
Which bouldly wee, vppon our othes denide,
For wee that dar'd commit so foule a thing,
Uppon our othes, ne cared though wee lyde,
Yet durst wee not abide till trueth were tride,
In couseners clyffes, wee feard sol fa to chaunt,
Howe so wee seemde, on honestie to vaunt.
Yea (wretched) I, that bore the blame of all,
Peccaui soung, through pricke of conscience griefe,
How others scapt, I sawe my shamefull fall,
I mou'de my mates, to salue our great mischiefe,
In time: or wee, should suffer much repreafe,
But they that vsde, then cousenage in my name,
If worst befell, knewe I should bide the shame.
Peccaui soung, through pricke of conscience griefe,
How others scapt, I sawe my shamefull fall,
I mou'de my mates, to salue our great mischiefe,
In time: or wee, should suffer much repreafe,
But they that vsde, then cousenage in my name,
If worst befell, knewe I should bide the shame.
To make amends, would neuer yeeld consent,
What should I doe? still Plasmos shot at mee,
False Frenos, yet the mischiefe did inuent,
I plowde the lande, the profite reaped hee,
Hee bounde me so, saunce him I could not gree,
And thus through neede (which I to show abhorre)
Against my will, looke what hee would I swore.
What should I doe? still Plasmos shot at mee,
False Frenos, yet the mischiefe did inuent,
I plowde the lande, the profite reaped hee,
Hee bounde me so, saunce him I could not gree,
And thus through neede (which I to show abhorre)
Against my will, looke what hee would I swore.
Our cousenage knowen, our likelyhoode of paine,
My earnest sute, to some good end to growe,
Once mou'd him not, to leaue ill gotten gaine,
Hee neuer blusht, in conscience nor in showe,
But craft on craft, hee layde to heape our woe,
T'ware straunge to heare, the wealthy friends hee found,
Which ioynde with him, to make our fraude seeme sound.
My earnest sute, to some good end to growe,
Once mou'd him not, to leaue ill gotten gaine,
Hee neuer blusht, in conscience nor in showe,
But craft on craft, hee layde to heape our woe,
110
Which ioynde with him, to make our fraude seeme sound.
And boulstred thus, for slaundring vs with truth,
Our actions huge, poore Plasmos ouerlayde,
Wee knewe in neede, friends faild, the more the ruth,
Thus double wrong'd (his huge distresses waide)
To cleare his land, good store of coyne hee paide,
Least share whereof, in faith, to mee did fall,
Yet of this end, I was the glad'st of all.
Our actions huge, poore Plasmos ouerlayde,
Wee knewe in neede, friends faild, the more the ruth,
Thus double wrong'd (his huge distresses waide)
To cleare his land, good store of coyne hee paide,
Least share whereof, in faith, to mee did fall,
Yet of this end, I was the glad'st of all.
From open shame, my selfe I iudged free,
I tooke no heede, to salue my conscience gall,
But God that doth all secrete dealinges see,
Prouided whippes to scourge our sinnes withall,
And I that bare the blame of Plasmos thrall,
As sure I was the instrument of it,
The first man was, that God with vengeaunce smit.
I tooke no heede, to salue my conscience gall,
But God that doth all secrete dealinges see,
Prouided whippes to scourge our sinnes withall,
And I that bare the blame of Plasmos thrall,
As sure I was the instrument of it,
The first man was, that God with vengeaunce smit.
My onely child, which should haue had the land,
With Plasmos bloud, that faine I would haue bought,
Not sicke in sight, first dyed out of hand,
Which heauie hap distempered so my thought,
As straight I was into a quarterne brought,
Whose frosen fittes, brought downe my youthfull pride.
Do what I could, it held mee till I dide.
With Plasmos bloud, that faine I would haue bought,
Not sicke in sight, first dyed out of hand,
Which heauie hap distempered so my thought,
As straight I was into a quarterne brought,
Whose frosen fittes, brought downe my youthfull pride.
Do what I could, it held mee till I dide.
A house I kept, till I to cousening fell,
But loe beguilde, euen with mine owne deceite,
My house I left, and did in corners dwell,
To lay mee vp, still Plasmos lay in waite,
Sometimes I was caught with a Sergeaunts baite,
And through a grate, Presta quesimus sounge,
With care on care, thus daily was I stounge.
But loe beguilde, euen with mine owne deceite,
My house I left, and did in corners dwell,
To lay mee vp, still Plasmos lay in waite,
Sometimes I was caught with a Sergeaunts baite,
And through a grate, Presta quesimus sounge,
With care on care, thus daily was I stounge.
I that sometime, had wily witt good store,
As one bestrackt, forgot what late I spake,
For all my cheates, still was I very poore,
My friends did faile, none would relieue my lacke,
On euery side, I (wretched) went to wracke,
Yea Frenos he that drue the cousening plott,
Deuourde the gaine, and gaue mee neuer a iott.
As one bestrackt, forgot what late I spake,
111
My friends did faile, none would relieue my lacke,
On euery side, I (wretched) went to wracke,
Yea Frenos he that drue the cousening plott,
Deuourde the gaine, and gaue mee neuer a iott.
Two yeares well nie, I liued in this woe,
God wot, not worth the ground whereon I went,
And when I thought, my ioyes againe would flowe,
Unhappie I, (that Plasmos murder ment)
Unto such ire, the hie Iehoua bent,
That (ah) in steede of drinke my thrist to slake,
I poyson dronke, my timelesse ende to make.
God wot, not worth the ground whereon I went,
And when I thought, my ioyes againe would flowe,
Unhappie I, (that Plasmos murder ment)
Unto such ire, the hie Iehoua bent,
That (ah) in steede of drinke my thrist to slake,
I poyson dronke, my timelesse ende to make.
See couseners see, my present lothsome state,
Loe here the ende of all my wanton race,
Behold the man, that was so frolicke late,
A leaper foule, in body, legges and face,
At point of death, cryes out to God for grace,
A warning fayre, a mirror full of mone,
For greedie churles, a bone to gnawe vppon.
Loe here the ende of all my wanton race,
Behold the man, that was so frolicke late,
A leaper foule, in body, legges and face,
At point of death, cryes out to God for grace,
A warning fayre, a mirror full of mone,
For greedie churles, a bone to gnawe vppon.
Amende in time, before Gods wrath you sturre,
Beware by mee, false Frenos and the rest,
Quod diffeertur, be sure, non aufertur,
Unlesse euen from the bottome of your breast,
You both repent, and to amends are preast,
Loe here my tale, and life will haue an ende,
God pardon mee, and graunt you to amende.
Beware by mee, false Frenos and the rest,
Quod diffeertur, be sure, non aufertur,
Unlesse euen from the bottome of your breast,
You both repent, and to amends are preast,
Loe here my tale, and life will haue an ende,
God pardon mee, and graunt you to amende.
| The Rocke of Regard | |