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 |
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Caphos complaint.
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 | The Rocke of Regard |  |
Caphos complaint.
The
Prouerbe saith, as good wee eate the deuill,
As sup the broth, wherein his body boilde,
As good wee do, as giue consent to euill,
Which sorrie doome, my coloured scuse hath foild,
My conscience throbs, though I no fraude deuis'de,
My onely name, that shadowed foule deceite,
In God his sight with Frenos fall is pris'de,
I feele my sinnes, pluckes downe my soule with weight,
Yea Lyros and false Frenos both I knowe,
But leade the way, that I must shortly goe.
As sup the broth, wherein his body boilde,
As good wee do, as giue consent to euill,
Which sorrie doome, my coloured scuse hath foild,
My conscience throbs, though I no fraude deuis'de,
My onely name, that shadowed foule deceite,
In God his sight with Frenos fall is pris'de,
I feele my sinnes, pluckes downe my soule with weight,
Yea Lyros and false Frenos both I knowe,
But leade the way, that I must shortly goe.
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Farre yet I am vnfit for such a iournie,
My compt falls short, that I to God must giue,
If hee charge mee, with filthie periurie,
It will not serue (to saue mee from repreue,)
To say how that, for feare of after shame,
A manifest vntrueth, I durst not sweare,
But Frenos gott, a post knight of my name,
In steede of mee, that did both sweare and steare,
I must confesse, I gaue thereto consent,
And God no doubt, will punish my intent.
My compt falls short, that I to God must giue,
If hee charge mee, with filthie periurie,
It will not serue (to saue mee from repreue,)
To say how that, for feare of after shame,
A manifest vntrueth, I durst not sweare,
But Frenos gott, a post knight of my name,
In steede of mee, that did both sweare and steare,
I must confesse, I gaue thereto consent,
And God no doubt, will punish my intent.
My subtile sleightes, to shadowe foule abuse,
May well lye hid, and no man knowe the same,
But God doth knowe, the fraude I put in vse,
(For others keede) deserued open shame.
The man that is with sicknes neuer vext,
Hath seeldome care what kinde of meate hee eates,
When such as are, with surfets oft perplext,
Seeme daintie still, to feede on diuers meates,
In worldly churles, obserued is the like,
They feede on fraude, till infamie them strike,
May well lye hid, and no man knowe the same,
But God doth knowe, the fraude I put in vse,
(For others keede) deserued open shame.
The man that is with sicknes neuer vext,
Hath seeldome care what kinde of meate hee eates,
When such as are, with surfets oft perplext,
Seeme daintie still, to feede on diuers meates,
In worldly churles, obserued is the like,
They feede on fraude, till infamie them strike,
Marke well my woordes, you (worldlinges) of all sortes,
But citizens, your natures best I knowe,
There are of you haue meetely good reportes,
For riches sake, and outward honest showe,
But how you get, your monstrous heapes of gold,
Your conscience knowes, and I can some what tell,
Your secret craft, so seeldome is controld,
As what you gett, you thinke you gett it well,
But how so heere, your reckonings seemeth true,
A day will come, when you shall count a newe.
But citizens, your natures best I knowe,
There are of you haue meetely good reportes,
For riches sake, and outward honest showe,
But how you get, your monstrous heapes of gold,
Your conscience knowes, and I can some what tell,
Your secret craft, so seeldome is controld,
As what you gett, you thinke you gett it well,
But how so heere, your reckonings seemeth true,
A day will come, when you shall count a newe.
Bee you reclaymde, by others soudaine fall,
Sighe for your owne, when others shames you see,
Thinke that they are but patternes of your thrall,
If iustice should on you auenged bee,
A thousand wayes, the highest seekes to winne,
Our worldly mindes, from loue of worldlie ioyes,
But if wee still, will wallowe in our sinne,
The plagues are sharpe, with which he vs destroyes,
To stay whose wrath, I hould the next way is,
While wee haue space, to sorrowe our amis.
Sighe for your owne, when others shames you see,
Thinke that they are but patternes of your thrall,
If iustice should on you auenged bee,
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Our worldly mindes, from loue of worldlie ioyes,
But if wee still, will wallowe in our sinne,
The plagues are sharpe, with which he vs destroyes,
To stay whose wrath, I hould the next way is,
While wee haue space, to sorrowe our amis.
Death comes God wot, euen like a myching theefe,
With conscience cleare, some wardes his wily blowe,
And some againe hee gawls with soudaine greefe,
Whose thoughtes of sinne, doth worke their double woe,
Had I but wayde, the halfe, that now I wray,
My coemates endes, had made mee fitt for death,
But that is past, this is my onely stay,
Gods mercie salues, at latter gaspe of breath,
And yet thereof, let no man hope to farre,
Presumptious sinnes, of all, the greatest are.
With conscience cleare, some wardes his wily blowe,
And some againe hee gawls with soudaine greefe,
Whose thoughtes of sinne, doth worke their double woe,
Had I but wayde, the halfe, that now I wray,
My coemates endes, had made mee fitt for death,
But that is past, this is my onely stay,
Gods mercie salues, at latter gaspe of breath,
And yet thereof, let no man hope to farre,
Presumptious sinnes, of all, the greatest are.
| The Rocke of Regard | |