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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P. Plasmos triumphe.
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 | The Rocke of Regard |  |
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P. Plasmos triumphe.
Paris vsurped roome resigne, in Lady Pleasures Court.
Thy mungrell choice in such a flurte, deserues a foule report,
Whose kytish trickes, in gadding moode with euery checke to stray,
God knowes I want both Art and witt, in coulers fresh to wray.
Thy mungrell choice in such a flurte, deserues a foule report,
Whose kytish trickes, in gadding moode with euery checke to stray,
God knowes I want both Art and witt, in coulers fresh to wray.
Sufficeth yet, thy mart to mare, shee bitt at euery baite,
Wher one good turne, in toile thou reapst, thy passage was not straight,
Why wronge I thus, poore Hellen now, shee was to good for thee,
Whom fate did cast from Priams court, a sheepeherd poore to bee.
Wher one good turne, in toile thou reapst, thy passage was not straight,
Why wronge I thus, poore Hellen now, shee was to good for thee,
Whom fate did cast from Priams court, a sheepeherd poore to bee.
Whereas in Ida mount, thou wraydst thy willful will ywisse,
Which wealth and wisedome didst refuse, to bathe in wanton blisse,
Yet sure thy blisse was brude with bale, thy selfe will iudge the fame,
What blush not man to blase a truth, in faith it is no shame.
Which wealth and wisedome didst refuse, to bathe in wanton blisse,
Yet sure thy blisse was brude with bale, thy selfe will iudge the fame,
What blush not man to blase a truth, in faith it is no shame.
Thy ielous thought supprest thy ioy, thy foes increast thy feare,
Thy loue in Armes, lou'de larumes wilde, imbracements to forbeare,
Thy kinsemen slaine, thou reft of loue, and life in litle time,
What peeuish pride then moues thy thought, dame pleasures mount to clime?
Thy loue in Armes, lou'de larumes wilde, imbracements to forbeare,
Thy kinsemen slaine, thou reft of loue, and life in litle time,
What peeuish pride then moues thy thought, dame pleasures mount to clime?
Auaunt, auaunt, giue place to him, whom fortune still doth guide,
Whose choice doth passe without her plague, faire Hellen in her pride,
Within whose hart doth pittie rule, in whom dame bountie dwells,
To whom faire Venus yeeldes her ball, her beautie so excels.
Whose choice doth passe without her plague, faire Hellen in her pride,
Within whose hart doth pittie rule, in whom dame bountie dwells,
To whom faire Venus yeeldes her ball, her beautie so excels.
Her constant loue, longe wisht I wonne, she mou'de no goddis yre,
She shed no bloud, shee slue no friend, shee set no towne on fire,
Her modest life exiles mistrust, and ielousie doth chace,
In faith I feare no lowde Al'armes, when I my loue embrace.
She shed no bloud, shee slue no friend, shee set no towne on fire,
Her modest life exiles mistrust, and ielousie doth chace,
In faith I feare no lowde Al'armes, when I my loue embrace.
And yet I dare with Paris ioyne, if Paris scorne her praise,
I enter now the listes of loue, my Ladyes fame to raise,
And proudely there my gauntlet throwes, a quarell streight to snatch,
With him yt dare maintaine she liues, which may faire Lymo, match.
I enter now the listes of loue, my Ladyes fame to raise,
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With him yt dare maintaine she liues, which may faire Lymo, match.
Let lingring louers rest of rest, whom scorne hath left in lash.
Let carelesse suters try their force, to praise their painted trash.
Let happie wightes, which bath in blisse, my sharpe incounter proue,
Whom Venus with aspect of grace, hath linckt to yeelding loue.
Let carelesse suters try their force, to praise their painted trash.
Let happie wightes, which bath in blisse, my sharpe incounter proue,
Whom Venus with aspect of grace, hath linckt to yeelding loue.
And let them eake through passing ioy, which stands in pleasures grace,
Bestow their force if that they dare, my fortunes to deface.
Who bathes in waues of wished blisse, wt braue delight who maskes:
Who findes amends for euery misse, who hath but what hee askes.
Bestow their force if that they dare, my fortunes to deface.
Who bathes in waues of wished blisse, wt braue delight who maskes:
Who findes amends for euery misse, who hath but what hee askes.
| The Rocke of Regard | |