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[The Courte of Vertu

contaynynge many holy songes, Sonettes, psalmes and ballettes] [by John Hall]

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A Poesis in forme of a Uisyon,
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A Poesis in forme of a Uisyon,

briefly inueying against the most hate full and prodigious Artes of Necromancie, Wytchcraft, sorcery, Incantations, and diuers other detestable & dyuelyshe practises, dayly vsed vnder colour of Iudiciall Astrologie.


148

From out the Ramme into the Bull
As Titan last gan crall:
By order in hys endles pathe
Ecliptike that men call.
Whyche pathe dothe so the zodiak,
Iust in the myddest deuyde:
That syxe degrees therof are founde,
From it on euery syde.
When day was fled, and night in place
As was natures request:
I went to bed full hopyng there,
To take some quiet rest.
Whyche long before I lacked so
Through trouble of myne hart,
That thus I made my playnt to God
Who only knewe my smart.
Almyghty Ioue, graunt now that I,
Wyth sleape thys nyght begyle:
As dyd Ulysses, when from care,
He eased was a whyle.
When most frendly Alcinous,
Good kyng of Phæacea,
Hym sent in shyp tyll he sayld home
To hys owne Ithaca.
Who sleapyng styll was from the shyp
Layd foorthe vpon the lande:
Which whē he woke, what place it was
Dyd nothyng vnderstande.

[148]

Untyll Minerua hym informde,
And gaue hym perfect viewe:
Howe soone he myght in presence be
Of Penelope true,
Hys wyfe most chast which fortune strange
To hys great griefe of mynde:
By dyuers lucke, long tyme with held,
In Homer as we fynde.
But Philomela busyly,
Recorded so her song:
That all my shyftes could wyn no slept,
That would contynue long.
For as they feyne the thorne so sharpe,
Dyd seme to touche hyr brest,
For hyr shryll notes so perst myne eares,
That long I could not rest.
Yet in short slepes suche dredfull dremes
I gan to thynke and met:
That when I wakt besyde my wyt
It had me almost set.
Me thought I dyd in medowes walke
For my sport and solas:
Where syluer drops of dewe most swete
Dyd cleaue to euery grasse.
Wherby there ran a ryuer fayre,
Wyth streames so Chrystall clere:
That at the bothom myght be sene
The peble stones appere.

149

Aboue the medow was a rock,
And on that rocke a wood:
From whiche ran many pleasant springs
Into that ryuer good.
Crossyng the medes, they trickled downe
As lyfe bloud in the veynes
Dothe from the heart tyll eche member
Comfort therby atteynes.
Aboue thys woddy rocke there was
A Fielde most plesant grene:
Where the beautie of natures workes
Ryght aptly myght be sene.
There was no herbe nor plesant flowre
In suche a Fyeld to know:
But myght be sene most fruitfully
Within thys fielde to grow.
What should I name the Hyacinthe,
Or soote Uerbasculy:
The Clouer swete of dyuers kyndes,
That caulde are trifoly.
The Brunell and the Bugle blewe,
Wyth fayre Hieracium:
The Synkfoyle and the Betony,
And swete Origanum.
The Tutsane and Hipericon,
Asciron, and Paunsye:
The Uyolet and Simphiton.
And the double Daysye.

[149]

The Hartes ease, and the Pacience,
And crimsen Pimpernell,
The Cammocke, and the Camomille,
And Canterbury bell.
Rosecampany; Maudlen, and Cost,
And London touft so red:
Agrimony and Lyons tooth,
That Chyldren call Pysbed.
Odoriferous Serpillum,
And lady Traces fyne:
With Yarow, Torne twyse, Strawberyes,
And Burnet good with wyne.
The Lunary, the Serpents tongue,
And Procerpinaca:
The Adder grasse, the Saxifrage,
And eke Veronica.
It hedged was wyth Honysuckes,
Or periclimenum:
Well myxed wyth small Cotnus trees,
Swete bryer, and Ligustrum.
The whyte thorne, and the blacke thorne bothe,
Wyth boxe, and maple fyne:
In whyche braunched the Briony,
The Iuy, and wylde vyne.
To long I should the tyme detract
And from my purpose stray:
If I should recken all the thyngs
Within the Fielde so gay.

150

Besyde the good prospect for those,
That knowe Astronomy:
I thynke no platforme in the worlde,
Where one myght more aptly.
The rysyng see, and settynges bothe,
That Cosmike haue to name:
Acronyke to, and Helyak,
Of starres of noble fame.
About our Artick pole ye myght
The lyttle Beare fyrst see:
That called are, the guardes of those
That cunnyng saylers be.
The great Beare also in the whych
Charles wayne appeareth stoute:
Whych wyth the small Beare euermore,
Dothe walke the pole about.
Which Beares the Dragon dothe inuolue,
Then Bootes, and the North Crowne:
And after knelynge Hercules,
Is sene with great renowne.
Harpe, falling gryp, goate, swan, and he
That vse to dryue the cart:
The man that dothe the serpent beare,
The Egle and the dart.
Dolphin, forthers, and thother hors
That flyes caulde pegasus:
The tryangle, and Androwede,
As some men doo discusse.

[150]

The zodiake wyth hys .xii. sygnes
Where Planets haue theyr waye:
Wyth all aspects that may bechance
To any, nyght or day.
The Bulls eye, with the rest of sterres,
That caulde are Hyades.
Myght there be sene wyth the brood henne.
That some name Pleiades.
The Manger and the Asses twayne,
The Lyons hart, and tayle:
The virgins spyke, the scorpyons harte
And Water potte all nayle.
Whale, Oryon, and Gold en yarde,
That ladyes Elle some call:
The ryuer, hare, and bothe the dogges,
As well the great as small.
The serpent of the southe, the Cuppe,
The Rauen, and Centaure:
The Centaures speare, & then the wolfe
And also the altare.
The South crowne also may be sene,
Wyth many other there,
As Tricars Constellation,
Or Berenices heare.
The shyppe that Argo poetes do name,
There myght a man beholde:
And many mo then I can name,
An hundred thousande folde.

151

There myght ye see asccusions,
Bothe oblique and ryght:
No secretes of Astronomye,
That were not there in syght.
And to be briefe it was the ioye,
Of Lady Uranie
Wherin to walke she dyd frequent
Wyth all her famylie.
But as I clymed vp the rocke,
As I had oft before:
Of that swete fielde to take the ayre
Whyche doth mans sprites restore.
I mette a man in garments long
Most decent to beholde:
His long beard gray, so was hys head
Which dyd declare hym old.
His countenance in sobernes.
All others dyd excell:
His gate and gesture semd ynough
All vyces to expell.
For from the rule of honestye,
In hym was nothyng sene:
His outward workes dyd explicate,
An inwarde conscience cleane.
He toke me by the hand, and sayd,
Dere frende howe farre away?
To yonder field father (I sayd)
A whyle my selfe to play.

[151]

My frend alas (quod he) beware
Howe ye henceforth come there:
It wyll you els in hell confound,
Therfore I say forbeare.
What is your name my father fayre,
(Sayd I) doo it disclose:
Theologus I am (quod he)
Wyth thee I wyll not glose.
Why then (sayd I) do ye me warne,
From yonder plesant place?
Because (quod he) it late receaude
A chance of great disgrace.
Howe so (sayd I) then harke (quod he)
I doo not vse to lye:
I wyll the showe howe it befell,
And that ryght orderly.
A Heron foule, that hunger gutte,
Of all fowles at hys foode:
Most rauenous, insaciate,
And of most gredy moode.
Hard by the dolefull banks of Styx,
That fowle infernall flood,
To fyll hys gut, or take hys pray,
Styll watchyng late he stoode.
Where at the last, a serpent yong,
Of Plutos hatefull kynde,
Came craulyng out, whych gredy gut
Coulde very quickly fynde.

154

And thynkyng it had ben an eele,
He cobde hym vp at ones:
And wyth that pray away he flewe
And made therof no bones.
Whyche crepyng in hys belly, dyd
To hym suche extreme payne,
Tyll in thys Field at last he lyght,
Thynkyng there to remayne.
And foorth wyth at hys fundament,
Put foorth hys for sayd meate,
Thynkyng as he was wont wyth eeles
The same agayne to eate.
But beyng quycke, the serpent streight,
Dyd crepe among the grasse,
Whyche long necke could no more espy,
Ne yet fynde where she was.
Wherfore to Styx he went agayne,
And lykewyse swalowed mo,
And to this Fielde styll toke hys flyght,
And there dyd let them go.
Tyll he at last so many brought,
Through thys hys frequent vse,
That now thys Field is marred quight,
Through most hatefull abuse.
And suche a numbre of serpents
In it doo dayly breede,
Whych on these herbes & pleasant gras,
Continually doo feede.

[154]

That nowe it is not onely robde
Of euery plesant flowre,
But hatefull stynche may there be felt
At euery tyme and howre.
And Uranie hath it forsake,
With holsome pleasant showres:
And naturall Astronomie,
With all her fauoroures.
And true Phisyke forsakes it to,
For why, clowdes infernall,
Are dayly blowne from Leches floud
To water it wythall.
Which causeth nothing there to grew
But Superstition:
Of learnyng pure, and science good
The vyle obliuion.
Astrologye Iudiciall.
Therfore dothe it possesse:
Whiche is a strumpet counterfet.
And yet neuerthelesse,
Because some learned men to hyr
Do cast their myndes and loue:
That she is true Astronomie,
Ryght many she doth moue.
And vnder colour of that name
They vse Necromancye:
Wyth hatefull incantations,
And vyle Geomancye.

153

Of Magikes artes there are great store,
And Augures arte perdye:
Foredemyng as Aruspices,
And some as Pyrethi.
All wytchecrafte vyle, and Sorcery,
Of false phytonicus,
Although they geue themselues the name
Of graue Philonicus.
These are the fruites of phlegiae,
Or Sathans wycked broode,
That in thys Fyeld the Heron shyt
To ease hym when he stoode.
Alas, (quod I) hath this vncleane
And hatefull byrde done so:
And natures dearlyng thus defast?
To hym Væ, Væ, wo wo.
Then am I of my fantasy,
And my plesant delyght:
And holsome recreation
Robde, and depryued quyght.
Wyth hangyng head, and bashfull face
I turned backe agayne,
For grayberds counseil durst I not
Refuse or once dysdayne.
But with most lowly reuerence,
Wyth thanks and condigne prayse,
I serued hym, when as we went
Eche one hys sundry wayes.

[153]

But sorowfull syghyng I,
Went wyth my sory newes,
Enformyng my famyliar frendes
Wyth whome I dyd peruse
My study small, wherwyth I doo
My wytte styll occupy,
And doo with them communicate
My mynde continually.
Of whyche some dyd sorowfully
Wyth me thys chance lament,
And other some would not beleue,
But to the place they went.
Nor would not here Theologus
That frendly dyd them warne:
But nedes would go presumptuously,
The matter to decearne.
Whiche hath them so infected now,
And that most diuelyshly:
They are content to graunt it styll
To be Astronomye.
And necessary wyll it call,
Though by the diuels worke,
Under cloke of Astronomye,
These foule false faytors lorke.
So I be holpe of griefe (say they)
Or fynde that whiche I loste:
Or know my desteny to come,
Why should I count it coste?

152

God would not suffer (other sayd)
Suche thynges for to be wrought:
If he dyd not allowe the same,
Or knewe it to be naught.
It is a good worke (other sayd)
Men to health to restore:
Although it be by dyuels worke,
What nede I passe therfore?
To helpe a true man to hys goods,
Wherof he was depryude,
By fals theues and vyle barators,
That wrongly it atchieude.
It can not be but a good worke,
Thus beastly men and fond,
Do answer them that would instruct
Or make them vnderstand.
Not regardyng the law of God,
Nor hys commanndement:
That no yll thyng ought to be done,
Upon a good intent.
Also yf Gods permission,
Were a laufull defence,
So were it for all kynd of synne,
And most wycked offence.
As whoredome, homicide and theft,
Wyth vyle Idolatry:
For treason, couetyse, and pryde,
And moste vyle simony.

[152]

May I not say, all these be good,
Sythe God dothe them permyt:
As well as those whom ye defende,
Oh men of beastly wyt?
His sufferance is to let your synne
Unto full rypenes growe:
That in the lake of sulphure he
Most iustly may you throwe.
And so declare hys glory great
Unto hys flocke electe:
That do by grace these wycked artes
Cleane from theyr heartes reiect.
Their counsels all at God they aske,
And doo at hym require,
Theyr sauyng health, and he doth geue
To them theyr whole desyre.
For why one heare shall neuer fall
From of theyr heads no tyme
Wythout hys wyll, whych doth impute,
To them no synne nor cryme.
For why they aske in lyuely fayth
All wherof they haue nede:
Whiche causeth them assuredly.
Of theyr purpose to spede.
Therfore it must of force procede,
Of Infidelitie:
That ye at dyuels seke suche helpe
Through moste vyle sorcery.

155

As dyd kyng Saule that damned man,
When Gods sprite hym forsoke:
When God would hym no answer make
For wytchecraft gan he loke.
Which faithles shift, how much it dyd
Hym in his nede auayle
Dyd well appere: he slewe hym selfe
When foes dyd hym assayle.
And so do ye your selues declare,
Of that same very sect:
Whyle ye at Sathan seke your helpe,
And do Gods powre suspect.
For as to dyuels here ye sought,
As reprobates forelorne:
So shall ye be hys porcion,
Syth God ye haue forsworne.
Unlesse in tyme ye may repent,
Whiche yf it be gods will,
He graunt ye all that ye may hate,
And shonnyshe thys great yll.
For though on prudent Salomon
They father this theyr art:
They are the workes of wickednes,
And of eternall smart
The very cause: for why saint Iohn
As God dyd hym reueale,
Hath found their place to be in hell,
Where tormentes are eche deale.

[155]

Confounded are these coniurers
Wyth conscience vncleane:
And all that vnto sorcery,
Or wycked wytchecraft leane.
For in theyr art they doo no dout,
The lyuyng God forsake:
Cleauyng to condemnation,
And therof hold doo take.
What nede I here recyte scripture,
Syth all men well do knowe:
That god so deadly doth it hate,
That neyther hygh nor lowe.
The same may vse, but that it wyll
To Sathan his soule gyue:
Or if Gods lawe obserued were,
Not one of them should lyue
That charmers are, or coniurers,
Wyth wytches sorcery:
Or suche as chosers are of dayes,
Markyng the byrdes that flye.
For why the faythfull that do feare
God ryghtly and beleue,
Assuredly do know that no
Suche thyng can once them greue,
And as for that Astrologie,
Iudicial that ye name:
Let learned Caluine satisfie,
All wyse men of the same,

156

But Phisike and Astronomy,
Alas is nowe the cloke,
For euery kynde of trechery,
That goodnes dothe reuoke.
For wycked wandryng fugitiues
Or vagabundes most lewde:
Do now a dayes from shyre to shyre,
Wyth shyftes both false and shrewde.
Under colour of Phisikes arte,
And noble Surgery,
Delude the common multitude
Wyth shamefull sorcery.
All secrete markes they wyll disclose,
And thynges long done and paste:
Whych doth with admiration
The people make agast.
In suche wise, that they streight beleue
That nothyng vnder sonne.
Dothe stande to hard or difficill,
Of suche men to be donne.
So that partly wyth Palmestry,
Or Chyromancies gaude:
And foolysh Physiognomye,
And wytchery that fraude.
Unto theyr wycked false purpose,
The people they allure:
More then can any godly art,
That perfect is and pure.

[156]

For Bedlem baudes, & hatefull hoores
This is a common shyft:
Of ruffyen theues and murderers
It also is the dryft.
Under suche cloke their companies
Together oft they drawe:
Free from danger of officers,
And punyshement of lawe.
Alas that thys myght be sene to
With Iustice, powre, and myght,
That Uranie and Medicine,
Agayn myght haue theyr ryght.
That nowe is by extorcion,
So fraudulently kept:
That for most true possessioners
The most part them accept.
For how theyr Field was put them fro
Before I haue you sayd:
Desyryng now all learned men
In this to adde theyr ayde.
That from the fylthy fruites of hell
It may once be purged:
That there the ryght inheritours
Agayne myght be lodged.
That now be fayne to seke els where,
Some holsome place to dwell:
Where of the wyse they are accept
And entertayned well.

157

Among these thoughtes most troublesome,
At laste I dyd awake:
Fyndyng my body sweatyng sore,
And all my synewes shake.
Where I long tyme lay syghyng sore,
Thynkyng of thys strange dreame:
Wyshyng for some interpretour
If any in thys Realme
Were full expert therin as was
Ferdinand Ponzetus:
Or Artemidor, whose syrname
Is sayd Daldianus.
But as eche thyng doth weare by time
So other thoughtes at last,
Abated this perplexitie,
And it began to wast.
And I agayne came to my selfe,
That I dyd shortly heare:
The warblyng notes & song so swete,
Of Philomela cleare.
Which counsayld me that slouthfulnes
I should from me expell:
Wherfore I rose, and wyth all spede,
I lyghted a candell.
So serude my turne my tynder boxe,
Whych stoode in my chamber:
Then toke I foorth my standyshe to,
Wyth pen, ynke, and paper.

[157]

Where I carude foorth yll fauoredly
Thys rough and ragged verse:
Wherin theffect of thys my dreame,
I rudely doo reherse.
Desyryng yet my readers dere,
To beare it paciently:
Syth it is but the buddyng flowre,
Of my poore infancy.
Whych as rypenes of knowledge growes
I shallbe glad tamend:
If any man shall me informe,
And thus I make an ende.
Esay. 19.

When they aske councell at theyr Gods, at their Prophets, at theyr Sothsayers and Witches, thē wyll I bryng theyr counsels to nought.

Hieremie. 10.

Ye shall not lerne after the maner of the heathen, and ye shall not feare the tokens of heauen: for the heathen are afrayd of such. yea all the customes and lawes of the Gentiles are nothyng but vanitie.

Esay. 47.

Go now to thy coniurers and to the multitude of thy wytches, whom thou hast ben acquaynted with all frō thy youthe, yf they may heare thee or strengthen thee: Thou hast hytherto had many counsels of them. So let the heauen gasers & beholders of starres, come on nowe and deliuer thee: yea and let them shew, when these new things shall come vppon thee. Behold they shalbe lyke straw, which if it be kyndled with fyre, no man may rid


158

it for the vehemency of the flame. And yet it gyueth no synders to warme a man by, nor clere fyre to sit by. Euē so shall they be whom from thy youth thou hast frequented. Euery one shall shewe thee hys erronious waye, yet shall none of them defend thee.