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 |
 |
|
|
|
Against one which wrote a slaunderous libell in dishonour of a Ladie.
|
|
|
|
 | The Rocke of Regard |  |
Against one which wrote a slaunderous libell in dishonour of a Ladie.
Yhacht
thou wert in enuies nest,
Whose murthering tongue, might not suffice
To woorke a Ladies great vnrest,
But that with penne thou didst deuise,
Uile vice to paint, in vertues place,
Her spotlesse life, for to disgrace.
Whose murthering tongue, might not suffice
To woorke a Ladies great vnrest,
But that with penne thou didst deuise,
Uile vice to paint, in vertues place,
Her spotlesse life, for to disgrace.
91
Whose sacred head, with wisedome fraught,
As guided by Dame Pallas skill,
Her deintie minde Minerua taught,
The good to loue, to leaue the ill,
Then may it bee, shee doth deserue,
Report from reasons lore to swerue.
As guided by Dame Pallas skill,
Her deintie minde Minerua taught,
The good to loue, to leaue the ill,
Then may it bee, shee doth deserue,
Report from reasons lore to swerue.
Noe, no, thou wretch, and Uiper vile,
From natures lawe, which dost rebell,
The world doth know, thy giltie gile,
In dungeon darcke, hence forth now dwell,
For all men doth, thy sight repine,
From manly actes, which doest decline.
From natures lawe, which dost rebell,
The world doth know, thy giltie gile,
In dungeon darcke, hence forth now dwell,
For all men doth, thy sight repine,
From manly actes, which doest decline.
The heauens do frowne, with earthly foode,
Thy carren corpes, should nourisht bee,
Thou onely byrde of Uipers broode,
And bitter braunch of rankors tree,
A Harpie for thy filthie factes,
For God and man, abhorres thy actes.
Thy carren corpes, should nourisht bee,
Thou onely byrde of Uipers broode,
And bitter braunch of rankors tree,
A Harpie for thy filthie factes,
For God and man, abhorres thy actes.
Unseene henceforth, thou caitife couche,
Thou murtherer vile of others fame,
How durst thou once presume to touche,
The honour due vnto her name,
And make report that Dian chaste,
Faire Venus knightes in bedde imbraste.
Thou murtherer vile of others fame,
How durst thou once presume to touche,
The honour due vnto her name,
And make report that Dian chaste,
Faire Venus knightes in bedde imbraste.
Allotting to her harmlesse tongue,
All rusticke speach, with Stentors voice,
Disdayning them whom loue hath stonge,
For that with chaunge, shee makes her choice:
Not carefull of her curious charge,
But gladly rowes in euerie barge.
All rusticke speach, with Stentors voice,
Disdayning them whom loue hath stonge,
For that with chaunge, shee makes her choice:
Not carefull of her curious charge,
But gladly rowes in euerie barge.
How may it bee such fertile soyle,
Well tilde and sowne with happie seede,
Can chuse in recompence of toyle,
But yeeld thee fruites of Venus meede,
Why worke I her so great abuse,
For giltlesse fact, to frame excuse.
Well tilde and sowne with happie seede,
29
But yeeld thee fruites of Venus meede,
Why worke I her so great abuse,
For giltlesse fact, to frame excuse.
My paines herein deserues no praise,
For all men knowes, more then I write,
But thou that didst this rumour raise,
If that thou darst so show thy might,
As truth maintaine thy slaundrous wordes,
Committing triall to our swordes.
For all men knowes, more then I write,
But thou that didst this rumour raise,
If that thou darst so show thy might,
As truth maintaine thy slaundrous wordes,
Committing triall to our swordes.
Who readie am her to defend,
Till wounded corpes, with bloud begord,
Of worldly woes do make an end,
By froward force, of slaundrous sword,
Or recant, to make will I,
And for offence, her mercie crie.
Till wounded corpes, with bloud begord,
Of worldly woes do make an end,
By froward force, of slaundrous sword,
Or recant, to make will I,
And for offence, her mercie crie.
| The Rocke of Regard | |