Newe Sonets :: :: University of Virginia Library

Some prudent heads: with pollicie, do ponder how to please,
the freendly man by whose desart, they haue founde healpe or ease,
And other some: there be agayne, which valiently doo seeke,
to do some deed by venture great, that lookers on might like,
wherby Dame Fame shuld neuer cease, triumphant Trumps to soūd,
the pollicie and valientnesse, which hath in them been founde.
But I of francke, and meare good will, and not to gayne the praise,
as one that wanth a cunning skill, to imetate their wayes.
Do present thes my triflyng toyes, and far vnconning writes:
remembryng how the wise man saies, the change of thinges, delites.
Which not alone apereth trew, by meates whereon wee feede,
but change in all thinges doth renew, the apetite in deede:
When as the Uitale spirits be filde, with vewe of learned Booke,
the werld eyes do willyng craue, on lighter thinges to looke,
And Musicke sounde, doth much delight, the eares and minde of man,
whose pleasant tunes, so mightie be, that banish cares they can:
The cause for which, it hath this gifte, is the varietie,
in it contaynde, by learned shifte, of skilfull Hermonie.
Doth not the sounde: of homely Pipe, that Shepperds rudely bloe,
refresh the hartes: of rusticke route, their simple skill to shoe.
Which is sufficient proofe inoughe that change contentes the minde,
wherefore I will: pricke on my Plough, some further change to finde
By tillinge oft my fruitelesse feilde, whose bare and barin soyle,
god knowes hath scarce the power to yeld, one Corne for all my toile,
But yet where wanth the finer flower, the coursest sorte doth ease:
in like case thinges of litle power, the minde sometime may please,
Accept therefore my Lassels trewe, these toyes in freindly part,
from him that meanes: to thee nought els, but show of faithfull hart:
Use them for change: as Musicke rude, for such is sure their grace,
Or els as coursest Flower is vsde, when fine is out of place.

Thine till not his ovvne Thomas Howell.

Iohn Keper Student to the Vpright Reader of these pretie Pamphilets.

As Feilde is none so ill, where fruitlesse weedes do groe,
but yt some herbe of vertue good, his pearyng flowres may shoe
So though in Howels soyle, ilwillers seeme to see,
at first nought els but thriftlesse thornes, and Thistles wilde to bee:
Yet who shall vew his Feildes, and rightly them peruse,
shall see that frutes and frutfull Herbes, do spryng of his sweet muse:
For playnly he depayntes, the fits of youthfull loue:
whose modest Pen from honest act, no mindefull man will moue.
Here learne affects to rule, and youth in care to spende,
beware thou mayst by others harmes, how youthly toyes do ende:
Here reape, with other frutes, precepts of mortall minde.
Are these no Herbs of goodly grace, in fertile Feilde to finde?
Also his fined phrase, shall get deserued prayse,
whose cunnyng verse of youthly yeres, graue actes of age displayes.
Wysh him more workes to Pen, by this his tried skill:
and hope to see by tract of time, more frutes of painfull quill.
To Howels happie hande, restore thou thankes for this,
and wish him after death to liue, in wittie workes of his.

Finis.

IOANNES KEPER OXON. AD tho Howell.

William Howell. to his Brothers Booke.

Go Booke wheras thou maist the best to please:
Passe not for curious heads or folish braines,
Of learned see thou craue thy greif to ease,
With rigour not to iudge wher loue remaines,
Go yet I say the best to please, be trew,
Care not for them that mend Appelles shew.

FINIS.

He declareth his greate mishappes, and lamentable sorovves of harte.

When eache wight wonted is, to take by nature rest,
I lie alas through greeping griefe, and thought so sore oprest,
That from my goyng to bead, vntill the time I rise,
Sleape once hath skarse the powre to close my weeping wakefull eyes,
In whiche longe lothsome nightes, my Pen full oft I blame,
For that the wofull state of me t'indite he doth not frame:
Whose youthfull yeares and daies, by nature were not ripe,
When cruell fate them cleane cut of, at one most soden wipe:
Though life do yet remaine to length my time in teares,
Whiche fliyng fame seemes not to cease, to blow in each wightes eares,
Forsinge me oft God knowes, a heauie harte to beare,
When outwardly I seeme to shew, a glad and mery chere,
And eke a carefull minde, more troublously it ost,
Then is the shipman on the Sea, in daunger nie the lost:
Whose care no greater is, then life and goods to saue,
When I of God continually, with humble voyce do craue,
That he by death will quite, my grief away expell,
And geue to me a place amonge, the saued soules to dwell:
Which now longe times haue been, so tossed with vnrest,
That scarse I may the woes sustaine, that lie in wofull brest,
To thinke on my mishaps, whiche do me still betide,
When happie hap to finde redresse, full fast away doth glide,
What greater greife may growe in any honest minde,
Then is to wante such wonted wealth, as it some time did finde;
Such prouidence for man, doth Fortune oft procure,
When smilingly she seemes to trayne, with bayte of golden leure,
By meane wherof she will, a ranckred poyson lay,
Full closely coucht in pleasant bayte, with that poore soule to tray,
As I but lately tried, who doth her bayts so taste,
That secretly I sup the smarts, whiche cause me pine and waste:
Would God when I began, to enter first to life,
That present death had pearst my hart, and rid me cleane this strife,

So should my Parents not, haue been at such great cost,
To bringe me vp on whom by fate, their great good gifts are lost:
Ne yet haue left to me, no whit such wealth at all,
Whereby from wealth to miserie, might chaunce a soden fall,
But should the same els where, haue well bestowed I say,
Which they in leauing vnto me, did naught but cast away,
Whose heauie helplesse haps, increasing euery hower,
Doth force me weepe, when others sleape, where fortune doth not lowe
Thus passe I forth the nighte, when wishe doth wante his will,
Whom fortune seekes by great despight, most cruellie to spill,
And when the dawninge day, I do perceaue and see,
And eke how Titan lifteth vp, himselfe in first degree,
Whose glorious glyttering beames, doth mooue eache thing to ioy,
Saue only I whose haplesse hap, hath wrought all mine anoy:
Then from my coutche I creepe, all clad with woe and care,
And for to walke in Desart place, my selfe I do prepare,
Where none but wofull wights, do wandring wayle their greefe,
Where violence doth vengance take, where neuer coms releefe:
Where pleasure plaies no parte, nor wanton life is lead,
Where daintinesse no daunger makes, ne finesse once is fead:
Where deepe dispayre doth dwell, in owgle lothsome lake:
Where feurious feendes do fersly fight, an sorowes neuer slake:
Euen there in dolefull Den, I do driue forth the day,
Where as my pitious plainte and wo, no time hath once to stay,
And then a new I wish, that I had neuer been,
To voyde the painefull piteous plight, that now I wretch am in,
Within whose troubled head, such thronge of thoughts doth rise,
That now on this and then on that, I cease not oft to vise,
Amonge whiche thoughts I note, this one that doth ensew,
Which as the younge Byrde brought from neast, & put in cage or mew,
Doth ioye in that her life, as much as though she might
From wood to wood, or feilde to feilde, at pleasure take hir flight,
whiche plainly doth declare, a man from byrth brought vp,
In meane estate that neuer knew, the taste of wanton cup,
Doth holde himselfe so well contente, with his degree,

That he in life doth seldome seeke, to craue more greater fee.
But I as byrde vnlike, that flew hir timely flight,
Throughout the groues and fertill fielde, in ioyes and great delight,
Which shall no sooner feele hir selfe, to be restrainde,
From her such wonted libertie, as some time she retainde:
But forth withall she doth, such inwarde thought conceaue,
That yelding vp hir pleasures past, hir life therewith doth leaue,
when as the byrde in Cage, with chirpyng cheare doth singe,
That neuer knew the place wherein, she had more better b'inge:
So I do playnly see, eche wight that wealth hath taste,
And afterwardes doth wante the same, with sorow is imbraste,
Wherefore sith life apointed was, in me this longe to last,
In simplest sorte woulde God I had the same to this time past,
Then should I sure haue liude contente with this my pay,
Which now because of carefull change in wo do wast away.

Finis.

Keper to his frende Hovvell.

When surging Seas with raginge blastes be blowen,
In whiche is man with ship of troublous saile,
He must beware least Hulcke be ouerthrowen:
When deathly seas compels weake hart to quaile:
So though thou be returnd from Port of blisse,
With hoysing waues and windes so hardly tost:
Thou maist thy selfe full well assure of this,
Thou art not he that first hath had the lost.
It is a healpe sometimes in miserie,
To haue a sort as felows eke of thrall,
Ah many man hath felt the chaunce of thee:
When witlesse youth doth range so prodigall.
Then hoyse thy sayle and be not ouerblowen,
The feare of harmes may not thy stomacke slake.
And rise from couche when chearefull light is showen,
And draw thee backe from paines of Plutoes lake.

Haue stronger hart then simple Birdes on tree,
Let manly corps, a manly minde embrace,
No woes can helpe: then frende be rulde by mee,
Let pacience in quiet breast haue place:
For all disease for cares and woes each one,
A quiet minde, is only salue alone.

Finis.

The restlesse paynes of the Louer forsaken.

In springe time when fresh flowers, in Feilde do florish fayre,
When Trees do bud and blosoms beare, when temperate is th'ayre
When Byrdes with chirping cheare, when Beastes that be but brute,
As course of kinde doth force them forth, through loue begins great sute.

Then I whose fansie fed, my sprites to sporte and play,
To Forrist fayre of pleasant ayre, began to take the way:
As I did passe throughout a valey fayre and greene,
Where Birds did singe and Beastes to runne oft pleasant I had seen.

All husht I founde it tho, such silence was there kept,
As midnight then if it had been, and all thinges sounde had slept;
Where at amasde I stoode, and listning longe might heare
At last a hollow sounding voice, with lowde lamenting cheare.

In shrubs harde shrowded by, a wofull wight there lay,
Whose carefull corps through pining paine, was welnie worne away:
Where powring out his plainte, he curst his cruell fate,
That led him forth to hope for hier, where he in fine founde hate.

He sight and beat his breast, and bid all men take heede,
By him to trust no filed wordes, where as they shew no deede:
For filed wordes me fed, to folow fancie so,
That like the hooked Fish betraide, I languish now in wo:

I looke and longe for death, she leapes a lofte in ioye,
Whose subtel sleights (alas quoth he) hath wrought all mine anoye:
That fie on hir fayre face, fie on her fained chere,
For hir sake eke alone I bid, fie on all women there.

Whereby he lookte aside, and finding where I stoode,
Like one that sought to liue alone, from me he fled as woode:
For whom such griping greefe, my heauy hart did knawe,
That I my selfe there depe defide, like linke of Louers lawe.

Finis.

The britlenesse of thinges mortall, and the trustinesse of Vertue.

To you faire Dames whose fauoure now doth florish,
To you whose daintie daies in ioyes are spent:
To you whose corpes Dame nature yet doth poolish,
To you whom Cupide chiefly doth frequent,
To you I write with harte and good intent:
That you may note by this which I do say,
How natures giftes soone weare and waste a way.

Your loftie lookes the time will plucke full lowe,
Your statelie steps Age eke will alter quight,
Not one thinge now that doth geue pleasant showe,
But time of cuts and forseth to take the flight,
Saue Uertue sole in whiche who doth delight,
When wealth, when pompe, when beautie shall them leaue,
Uertue alone to such will sticke and cleaue.

Where is faire Helines bewtie now be come,
Or Cressed eke whom Troylus long time serued,
Where be the decked daintie Dames of Rome,
That in Aurelius time so florished:

As these and many mo are vanished,
So shall your youth, your fauour, and your grace,
When nothing els but vertue may take place.

To vertue therfore do your selues applie,
Call Cressids lyfe vnto your youthly minde,
Who past her time in Troye most pleasauntly
Till falsinge faith to vice she had inclinde,
For whiche to hir suche present plagues were sinde,
That she in Lazers lodge hir life did ende,
Whiche wonted was most choysly to be tende.

Hir comly corpes that Troylus did delight
All puft with plages full lothsomly there lay:
Hir Azurde vaines, hir Cristall skinne so whight,
With Purple spots, was falne in great decay:
Hir wrinkeled face once fayre doth fade away,
Thus she abode plagde in midst of this hir youth,
Was forst to beg for breaking of hir truth.

Lo here the ende of wanton wicked life,
Lo here the fruit that Sinne both sowes and reapes:
Lo here of vice the right rewarde and knife,
That cutth of cleane and tombleth downe in heapes,
All such as treadeth Cresids cursed steps,
Take heede therefore how you your youthes do spende,
For vice bringee plagues, and vertue happie ende.

Finis.

The description of his lothsom life, to his friende.

Like as the wofull wight, in Irons colde doth lie,
And hopes at Sise to be releast, is then condemde to die:
Euen so alas my lot, as contrarie doth fall,
As his who lookt for suger sweet, and founde most bitter gaule,

My reastlesse labour now I iustly may compare,
To Sisiphus that neuer sleapes, or els to Tistius care,
For after sturdie stormes, when calme I thinke to finde,
More rougher rage a new doth rise, to gripe my greeued minde,
And when my carefull case, by meanes I seeke to cure,
Most deepist dinte of inwarde wo alas I doo endure.
The cause of this my grief yet will I closly keepe,
And secretly my sorowes suppe when others sounde do sleape.

Finis.

The Louer almost in desperation, moneth his estate.

My carefull case, and heauie pining plight,
Constraineth me, against my will to wright,
The plungid state wherin I liue and dwell,
Doth force me forth my trimbling tale to tell,

My heaped woes, all solace settes aside,
Whose secrete smarte, alas I fayne woulde hide,
But as the subiect Oxe to yoke must yelde,
So vanquisht wightes are forst forsake the fielde.

My lucklesse lot, denies me all releefe,
I seeke for help, but finde increase of greefe,
I languish still in longe and deepe dispayre,
Yet feare to shew the cause of this my care.

I couit nought that reason might denie,
I seeke not for to clime the cloudie skie,
But what I seeke, if I the same might finde,
Then should be easde mine vncontented minde.

Finis.

The infortunate ende of Cresus Kynge of Lydia, a vvorthy note for Couetousnesse sake.

When darkenesse dim the earth did hide, and husht was wood & fielde,
when Beasts & Birdes of painted pride, to take their rest did yelde,
When Seas and waues of waters wilde, their roring seemde to flake,
And eche thing els in silence sat, on sleape their ease to take,
Then I whose wakefull troubled head, no quiet rest coulde finde,
Lay mewsing how I best might ease, mine vncontented minde:
At last I starte from out my bead, and hauing present light,
Did finde a Booke whereon I read, to driue away the night,
In whiche the life of Cirus Kynge of Persia I founde,
Writen by one hight Xenophon, from whence I take my grounde,
The wonderous workes and worthy deedes, of Cirus then I read,
His regale rule his liberall harte, and how in warres he spead:
How he through his beneuolence, not only eache hart won,
But kept himselfe thereby more sure, then towne or garison:
Who when at any time he stoode, of Golde or men in neede,
with wealth and will his people hast, to strength him still with speede:
And breif to be suche noble deedes, by Cirus doone I finde,
As iustly sure deserued hath, to winne immortall minde,
Which I now passe ouer to them, that better can indite,
As one who most vnable is, his life at large to write:
But only this I note therin, as thinge of wonders prise,
A mirrour meete for Maiestrats, to set before their eies.
When Cressus he that cormrant Kinge, which ouer Lyde did raigne,
Seyng the largenesse Cirus vsde, wilde him his hande restraine:
He saide to heape his frendes in wealth, was vnto him great pleasure,
If he then chaunst to stande in neede, he tooke them for his treasure:
O noble Kynge, woulde God thy life were grauen in Tables of Golde,
That Cresus kinde whiche now doth liue, thy bountie might beholde,
So should they se what Fame thou wanne, in lands and countries coste,
where Cresus Kynge was cleane consumde, with that he honord moste:
Who ended thus his greedie guttes, were filde and set on flote,
with glittering Golde that melted was, and powred downe his throte.

Finis.

The contempt of Riches.

The state of worldly things, is straunge and most vnstable,
Both mirth and wo to man it brings, through Fortune variable,
Wherfore I holde him best, that hath sufficiente,
That likes the lot which God hath geuen, & therwith stands contente:
For they that seeke most highest, them selues for to aduance,
Are often seen to be the niest to daungerous mischance:
Example by the tree which growes vpon the Hill,
That subiect is vnto eache blast, when trees below are still,
The higher state always the greater care doth bringe,
The greater care the lesser ease, which prooues the meane surest thing,
And Hystories deuine vs bidth from cares and woes,
And wils vs all to view the byrdes, and Lyllies fresh that groes.
The Byrds ne sowe nor reape, and yet do wante nothing,
The Lillie eake it doth compare with Salomon the King,
Afirming plaine that he in all his princely power,
Was neuer decked like vnto the simple Lilly flower:
A voyde such care therefore, as quailes the corage ofte,
And put thy confidence in him, that sits in Throne a lofte:
Contente thy selfe alway, with that he shall assine,
Against those whom he doth exalte, se thou do not repine,
If riches do increase, be thankefull for the same,
If wante of that do chaunce to prease, do not thy Fortune blame,
Better it is of bothe, to be contente with ought,
With greate and heaped howrdes of golde, then haue vnquiet thought:
Did not Diogenes, prefar the shining Sonne,
Before the mightie kingdomes great, that Alexander wonne:
When this greate conquerour woulde, haue geuen him giftes of golde,
He saide like gifte thou canst not geue, as thou from me dost holde.
Tho sundrie others mo, whose workes were wonderous wise,
I might here name to like effecte, yet let this sayd suffice,
For nothing here so sure, that certaine may remayne,
Acompte therfore all worldly powre, as transitorie vayne.

Finis.

The vnquiet estate of the Louer, vvherein is vvished redresse.

Like as the Captaine stoute, constrainde is in th'ende,
Oprest with powre to yeelde himself, and what he did defende:
So I with Cupid caught, am forst at last to yeelde,
To you whose vertuous wayes, hath wonne of me both Forte & fielde,

I may no longer cloke the scortchinge flames of fire,
That still in seacret breast doth burne, through wante of my desire:
But forth it findes away, that hid hath line full longe,
And loue doth boldly bid me seeke, to haue redresse of wronge.

Sith then in you it lies, on me to worke your will,
By mercie for to length my life, by contrary to kill:
Let pittie mooue your minde, in humble wise I sue,
And seeke to saue the Captiue harte that wisheth well to you.

For here I do confesse the only state and stay,
Of my led life and eke my death, to rest in you alway:
Whose graunte of grace hath powre, to glade my griped brest,
Whose stay therof hath like effect, to further mine vnrest.

Graunte yea therfore my deare, let nay be out of minde,
As I haue vowde to worke your will, till death shall do his kinde:
And thus I cease to write, the twenteth parte of greife,
That my poore payned harte endures, as yet without releife.

Finis.

Liberalitee.

Where wise do suffer wante,
And driuen in hard distresse:
Cut not thy cantle skante,
That maiste their cause redresse.

Finis.

Prouidence.

Twyse happie is the wight,
Whom others harmes doth cause
To shonne the snare, of n̄oysome care,
That growes by breache of lawes.

Finis.

Good aduise, to his faithfull friende.

Of Louers restles liues, I list not wright,
Let learned heads describe their playnfull plight:
But plaine in tearmes I wishe thee euen as well,
As those that can their tales more trimly tell.

Whose friendly meaning if thou wilt receaue,
Fyrst flie from Uice and vnto Uertue cleaue:
Nexte seeke by honest meanes, such wealth to winne,
As may thee helpe what neede thou shalt be in.

Counte not thy Chickens that vnhatched be,
Waye wordes as winde, till thou finde certaintee:
For filid wordes that deeds do neuer yeelde,
May well be likened to the baren fielde.

Be ware of had I wiste whilst youth doth last,
Whose stealinge steps do passe away in hast:
Prouide in time, thine aged yeres to chearishe,
And let fayre wordes go feede, the fonde and foolishe.

Acompte eache thinge, as proofe the same shall trie,
Trust not to farre before thou finde cause why:
For vnder Flowers so fayre: oft poyson lurkes,
Whose showe of flagrant smell much mischeefes workes.

Take heede least Argus with his craftie Net,
And wily subtle sleights do thee be set:
Thus wishinge aye thy wealth, I make an ende,
Least tedious talke should nought but thee offende.

Finis.

Youth still bevvayleth,
VVhen naught it auaileth.

My retchlesse rage of wanton youthe,
With griefe I do lament:
When vnto minde I call the truthe,
How I my time haue spent.

Finis.

An humble sute to his friende, requesting Loue for Loue.

I saw of late a wofull wight,
That Willo wandes did winde to weare:
Whose face declarde the painfull plight,
Which he through loue then present beare.
He lookte a loft as though he woulde
Haue fled vnto the starrie skies:
But still he stoode, as though he coulde,
Not once heaue vs his heauie thies:
His feathered handes he flashed foorthe,
And thyther fayne he woulde haue flead:
But wofull man he was full wroothe,
To see his limmes all lade with lead.

You are the bright and starrie skie,
I am the man in painfull plight:
My limmes are lade I cannot flie,
My corps may not sustaine my weight

I read the woes of Sigismonde,
The childe of Tanckred Salerne kinge:
Her loue to Guystarde did so bounde,
She fanced els none other thinge.
For riches naught nor for his wealth,
Whereof he had but slender store,
His vertue was hir only health,
She likte that well she sought no more.
They had their hoped hap and ioye,
If Tanckred coulde content him so,
But he by workyng their anoy,
Unto himselfe brought deepest woe.

You Sigismonde are fayre and bright,
Woulde I had Guystardes vertuous life,
And Tanckred chaste cleane out of sight,
Then woulde I wish for such a wife.

I reade how Luna loued one,
Of birth but meane of right good fame,
By name iclipt Endimione,
Whose loue was quite deuoyde of blame:
In Laemi Hill it thus befell,
She saw him sit all sad alone,
Tis I (quoth she) I know full well,
For whom he mournes and makes his mone:
She was not shamde of Laemi Hill,
Nor yet of Louers simple state,
But straight consents, vnto his will,
And him did choose for louing make.

O Luna looke vpon thy Loue,
Endimion makes his mone to thee,
Be not ashamde let pittie moue,
And loue me like as I loue thee.

Finis.

The Commendation of the meane in all thinges.

As meane in Musicke soundeth best,
So meane estate liues most in rest:
The higher climde the fall more deepe,
The deeper fall the double paine,
And pensife paine doth carefull keepe,
In man eache liuely lim and vaine,
Whiche prooues what change or chaunce do fall,
Contented meane exceedeth all.

Finis.

I. K. To his friende H.

The high estate is dangerous,
The poore degree is burdenous,
The richer sorte are couetous,
The needie soule is dolorous.
The youthfull imps are prodigall:
The aged thyrst for goods so thrall,
The bolder men foolehard ye call,
The fearefull wights are dastards all,
Then ill eschew, embrace thinges cleane,
Howell, welfare thy golden meane.

Finis.

He lamenteth the vngratefull person for inconstancie.

Alas I vnhappie and most wofull wight,
Whom Fortune so deeply hath now in despight,
That tonge cannot tell ne Pen haue powre to wright,
My pittifull playnt and heauie pining plight.

How shall I to ease me, vnborden my brest,
Of these double dolours that breedes mine vnrest,

When speeche wanteth powre, when Pen is vnprest,
And witte wanteth conning thervnto adrest.

This great restlesse rage in my minde doth renew,
And where I fayne helpe woulde finde harme doth ensew:
But yet was I neuer founde false or vntrew,
Which causeth me much more my dolors to rew.

She that I did honour, aboue all the rest,
To whom I reserued, the harte in my brest,
Hath me quite forsaken and broke hir behest,
And another taken, to loue and like best.

And seemeth now sleightly to beare me in hande,
That I was cause only of breatche of hir bande,
But truth if me tried full searched and scande,
Then trespas in me should she non vnderstande.

Wherfore to the Spider I may her compare,
That cruelly killeth whats caught in hir snare,
For she by like tyranie nothing doth spare,
Most spitefully to spoyle thus my carcas with care.

Finis.

The shevving of his good Hart.

The Gloue for gadge is rightly geuen, where thinges concluded bee,
Wherefore I do accompte therof, more then of golde or fee,
Of whiche if I were storde, like Cresus in his time,
I vow to thee if thou so woulde, it should be wholy thine,
Where to if I with Salomon, in wisdome might compare,
And bewtie had like Absolon, whose matche is very rare,
Like eloquence to Cicero, in power Cæsars peare,
Yet would I be as now I stande, your faithfull seruant deare:
And thus I rest in Hauen hope, whose bosome doth imbrace
Your gloue as you till trackte of time, may purchase further grace.

Finis.

The declaration of the vnstablenesse of fickle Fortune.

Where Fortune fauoureth not, what labour may preuaile,
Whom frowning fate will needes thrust downe, what shall he win to waile?
With patience to yeelde, for such I deeme most best,
And cast their cares and griefes on him, that rewleth fates behest,
Wee see by perfit proofe, that none so Princely goes,
But that by will of God the hiest, out of this worlde he floes,
Sith then suche fickle force, in mortall might wee finde,
Let nothing that shall hap thee heare, to much torment thy minde:
For all to liue a like, of this assured bee,
Was neuer yet nor shalbe seene, but eache in his degree:
As like the Potters pottes, be made to sundrie vse,
So some men serue and some are serude, here needes no fine exscuse,
The labouring man to toyle, that spares ne night nor day,
Gets skarce to feede his famely, when some howrde heapes that play,
Yet doth he not dispayre, nor yet from labours flie,
But liues contente when worldlinges make, of wealth their miserie,
Who gripte with greater greif, if Fortune list to lowre,
Then suche as earst did feede at fill, vpon hir fruitfulst flowre:
Whiche change full oft hath chaunst, through hir vnconstantnesse,
And whom she lately laught vpon, throwne downe remedilesse.
Was Alexander greate, that many daungers past,
For all his mightie conquestes wonne, not poysned dead at last.
A Kynges sonne eke I finde, for Fathers tirannie,
Constrainde to worke in Smithes Fordge, by harde necessitie,
Suche is the fading force of Fortunes fickle flower,
Whose fruitfulst fruite both ripes & rots in lesse space then one hower.
Such is hir tickle trust, suche are hir slipper steppes,
That what she seemes to sowe in ioye, with sorow oft she reapes.
Attribute all to him that ruleth fate therefore:
To him I meane whiche lefte the riche, and fed the pinyng poore,
For thus do I intende, whilse vitall breath shall last,
Though earst I practisde many meanes, which proofe hath tride in wast.

Finis.

Themistocles ansvver, concerninge his Daughter to be maried.

Themistocles by whose great skill, th'Athenians longe were led,
His only Daughter did bestow, on meane yonge man to wed,
Whiche when his freindes did wonder sore, these wordes he did expresse
My daughter deare hath wonne (quoth he) more wealth then ye do gesse:
Whom I accompt muche better plaste, when truth I truely scan,
Upon a man that money wants, then money wanting man.

Finis.

The Lamentation of the vvofull man, hauinge for entire Loue no goodvvyll.

The time that I began, to enter first to life,
Woulde God the sisters three had cut the threade with fatale knife
Wolde God that death had been, with arowes readie bente,
To pearce the wofull harte of mine, whiche now with care is spente.

Then should I not at all, haue folowed fancies lewre,
Whose outwarde showe of suger sweet, is mixt with poyson sowre:
As now I am constrainde, by destnie sure I thinke,
That still doth finde but bitter tast, yet cannot choose but drinke.

Thus I God knowes full oft a heauie harte do beare,
When outwardly I seeme to shew a mery carelesse cheare,
Desembling eke my case, in hope of happier day,
But aye from time to time I finde nought els but my decay.

I pine in secret flames, like waxe consumde with fyre,
I wishe, but alwaies wante my will, lo this mine only hier:
What Paps did geue hir foode, that nought regardes my wo?
What Tiger fearce alas coulde hate, the harte that loued hir so.

Great crueltie it is, to slay the yeelding wight,
That mercy stil doth sue to haue, and vseth none other fight:
But sith my haplesse hap alas must needes be so,
With speede come death to ende my life, and ridde me of this wo.

Finis.

The Louer declares his constant harte neuer to forge the thinge that vvas decreed.

Shall any wight preuayle, to bringe to passe by powre,
Away to mooue, or rule our loue, that faith hath fixt tindewre.
Shall either force of friendes, or frowarde frownyng foes,
Cause vs forgoe our hoped ioyes, bought with so many woes,
No, no, for my parte here, a vowe to thee I make,
That first eache torment shall me teare, care I my faith forsake.

Finis.

An admonition, concerning the tracte of time.

As time all thinges findes out,
So time eache thinge must bide.
In time therefore I wishe,
That time may well prouide.

Finis.

A friendly admonition to his friende, that craued good Counsaile.

Condemne no cause till it be throughly knowne,
Eche brutish broyle that forth abrode is blowne:
Beleeue not lightly, least by some suche acte,
Thou chaunce repent of deede in former facte.

Accuse no wight of crime till trouth thou trie,
Ne credit then thine eare before thine eye:
Suche false reporte abrode may often go,
As perfit proofe shall finde out nothing so.

In iudgement rashe se that thou neuer bee,
Deale not in thinges that passe capasitie:
Thy porcion spende that some thou haue to spare
If thou wilt liue deuoyde of woes and care.

Finis.

A pithy Precept.

When youth hath ronne his race,
Olde age doth steppe in place:
In youth therfore beware,
Least age be clad with care.

Finis.

Another.

Who wanteth force against his foes to fight,
Shall seldom be deuoyde of painfull plight.

Finis.

The expressing of his vnluckie happes diuersly chaunced.

Lyke as the shippe of force doth driue,
Which way the winde shall him constraine:
So out of natiue soyle I liue,
As destnie doth me leade and traine,
Now here, now there, now vp, now downe,
As Fortune listes, to smile or frowne.

And as the horse the rider rides,
Of force must take such way as he:

With pricking spours doth perse his sides,
Shall thinke most fitst for him to be,
So I of force must yelde to bide,
Suche hope as fate will me prouide.

As I by proofe doo playnly see,
Whiche longe haue sought in hope to finde,
Some place to ease my miserie:
With toyle I toste and troubled minde,
By seas by lande, in many a coaste,
In daunger ofte, like to be loaste.

I wish and wante what should I say?
I seeke and finde nothing at all,
I toyle, and still in great decay,
I fayne woulde rise, yet still do fall,
With sondrie cares I am oprest,
But Pen be still, and take thy rest.

Finis.

His complaint to the God Cupide, because he vvith his Darts perseth him alone.

O cupid Uenus darlynge deare,
Whose powre no mortall might may bide,
If once in hande thy bow thou beare,
And flaminge forckers by thy side,
Why dost thou this lie still and sleape?
When I to thee doo wayle and weepe.

Wheare is become thy wonted powre?
Art thou vanquisht and put to flight?
Or els art thou disposde to lowre,
On me alone most wofull wight:
Say no, say no, Oh I thee pray,
And turne the harte breedes mine anoy.

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[In whiche time Earbes and trees, that Winters winde did weare]

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In whiche time Earbes and trees, that Winters winde did weare,
Enforce them selues to bud and growe some pleasant fruicte to beare.
The litle Byrde that reason wants, doth then with chirping cheare,
From twig to twig, and bushe to bushe, greet oft his lotted feare:
The flotinge Fish in sturdie streames, that trauels day and night,
Doth eke vnto their fancied feares repeare with all their might,
The weake and wreatched wormes forgetteth not this day,
Whom wee may finde aboute this time faste coplide by the way:
As nature hath decreede all these by course of kinde,
In thinges that reasons rule doth want, right so hath man asingde,
For witnesse of the same in this apointed time,
That euery man and woman eke shall haue a Ualentine,
In signe of that hir force whiche no wight can subdew,
Lo this the only cause I say, that all thinges doth renew:
Lo this the cause also, why Fortunes lots be had,
Whose hoped hap and haplesse hope, doth make both wo and glad.
But I aboue the reast, may Fortune highly prayse,
Who hath geuen me the fearest Dame, that liues in these our daies:
Suche one I say whom Nature hath, with Uertue so I deckte,
That none there is or shall haue powre, hir name once to deteckte:
Euen suche a one whom I as Fortune hath asignde,
Will alwaies be at hir commaunds, till death shall do his kinde.

Finis.

To a proude Dame.

The fem so fonde of vnaduised brayne,
That mountes in seate by pride of blinded harte,
No prayse may get, but shewes a wisdom vaine,
To passe degree in seate by no desart:
Be thou content to sit on squared stoole,
Least seeming wise thou prooue the fonder foole,
It might been sayd by prudent voyce of grace,
Presuming Dame retire from stately place.

Finis.

The lamentable ende of Iulia, Pompeyes vvife.

Sore plungde in piteous paines and wofull smarte,
Bespred with trickling teares, on death like face,
Downe trils the droppes on cheekes, and sighes from harte:
To heare and see hir husbandes greeuous case,
Thus goes the spouse O wofull Iulia,
Besprent with bloud, when Pompeis cote she saw.

Downe dead she faules, in lamentable sounde,
Of sence bereft, so great was Iulis straine:
The childe conceiued within, with deadly wounde,
Untimely fruite came forth with proching paine,
When all was doone, for loue hir life she lost,
For Pompeyes sake she yeelded vp hir gost.

So dead she lay bewaylde with many teares,
A Matron wise, a famous ornament,
O Cesar had liued full cherefull yeares,
If thou with Pompey couldst haue ben content,
But Ciuell warres, hath wrought this fatall lawe,
To Pompeye death and death to Iulia.

Ye Matrones graue, and worthy spoused mates,
Ye mayden Nymphes, whiche liue in larger partes,
O reade and see vewe not and iudge of states:
And folow eke such faithfulnesse of harts,
Such liuely loue embrace, saith vertue graue,
As Iulie true for mate hir life she gaue.

Finis.

To his frovvarde friende.

This is not solom Sophocles,
In learned trade which treads,
This is not hardie Hercules,
That conquerd Hydras heads.
Feare not his bousteous vantinge worde,
Though he woulde seeme to braule,
He will aduise his angrie sworde,
On whom his strokes doo fall:
Wordes be but winde, to purge his heate,
His stomacke to abate,
Wherein he shewes his manly feate,
When most he seemes to prate,
Time may aswage these choloricke fomes,
Where Hercles is so bolde,
Thinke not good Hercles all are momes,
When all thy Cardes be tolde.
Wee know the Wood by sight of trees,
Wee know the fier is hot,
Wee know your power and wise decrees,
Though fooles you call our lot,
Farewell good hardie Hercules,
As hardie as thou arte,
Thou maiest be vext with litle Bees,
Though greater be thy harte.

Finis.

A friendly salutation to his beloued.

These lines vew dearest friende,
Wherein I close my harte:
Beholde therein my great good will,
Prouokte by iust desarte.

This simple slender shew
Accept, your harte to mooue,
For this my harte and golden will,
Restore your golden loue.
For if greate riches coulde
Encopled mates the more,
I haue both seen, and liue as now,
Wherin I might haue store,
But naught I care the welth,
Nor yet the gorgeous gaine.
My handes and hart I only geue
Thee only to obtaine:
You only woulde I craue,
Before all other wight.
Before the fayrest proferde Nimphes,
You most do me delight.
Whose choyse is now at will,
To take or els refuse:
And if it lay so much in me,
You only woulde I chuse:
Accept my proferde loue,
As trust by truth may binde,
If it thee please I am thine owne,
O my approued friende,
In worthy state to stay,
I will forsake thee neuer.
My harte my ioy my only care,
I will thee loue for euer:
Accepte and vewe these lines,
And thinke my hart you see,
Beholding eke this menssenger,
Somtimes consider mee.
Suppose I present were,
To talke in friendly parte,
But though my body absent be,
Yet bounde you haue my harte.

Finis

Complaint of ingratitude.

My Pen in piteous part,
Cannot in halfe descrie,
The inwarde woes in moning hart,
That gripes me secretlie.
If outwarde face coulde mone,
The woes of inwarde shape,
The senslesse trees, and Flintie stone,
Woulde rue my haplesse hap.
O hart with care opprest,
So plungde in penurie,
The sobbing sighes of great vnrest,
Will cause me wretch to die.
Into vntimely graue,
Mishap shall me conuaie,
The darte of death I neede not craue,
I see no prompter way.
Thus I haue plight the paine,
Of toyling hand and minde
To helpe the grace that can rewarde,
Yet shew it selfe vnkinde.

Finis.

I. K.

After his good fortune, falne into mishap.

Ah wretches set in wretched vale,
Where nought is sure but death so pale:
All worldly goods and ioyes so gay,
As withred flowres they vade away.
When Fortune thee doth hiest extoule,
Yet somwhat still doth vexe thy soule,
Then vertue craue vayne ioyes despice,
For wisdom still shall beare the price.

Finis.

I. K.

A Dialogue touching the matrimoniall degree.

Sithe wee are now in pleasaunt place,
Where eache may speake his minde at will,
And quietly debate the case,
Accordingly by simple skill,
I meane to reason this with thee,
Who will be bounde and may go free.

What bandes you meane first let me know,
And then I will some answer make,
In diuers sence your wordes do grow,
And diuersly they may be take,
Though commonly they be aplide,
To those that are in wedlocke tide.

My meaning is as ye do gesse,
Now let me heare what you can say,
If I shall right my minde expresse,
And speake the truth without delay,
I thinke him voyde of witte to bee,
That wil be bounde and may go free.

In wedlocke state, is no such bande,
No freedom lost by taking wife,
If that the truth be rightly scande,
She causeth longe and happie life,
A verteous wife enlarge thy daies,
Of husbands age deuine bookes saies,

Who hastes to wyue in hope of that,
Maye grope for Eles and catch a Snake,
And proue as wise as Pusse our Catte,
That sekinge fishe fell in the lake.

Let them that list therfore for me,
I will not binde and maie goe free.

Well then I see who will contend,
If thou so wilfully be bente,
I doe fall out to little ende,
Take hede therfore leste thou repente,
The life thou now calst libertie,
Here after through extremitie.

The Batcheler most ioyefully,
In pleasant plight doth passe his daies,
Good feloship and companie,
He doth maynteine and keepe alwaies,
With Damsels braue he may well go,
The maride man can not do so.

Though daintie Dames thee now delight,
And bewties beames thine eies do blinde,
When time shall come of perfit sight,
The weddid life thou suerst shalt finde,
For God himselfe to auoyde sinne,
The weddid state did first beginne.

Finis.

Tyme geueth triall.

Though yet to thee it skante appeare,
The ende shall showe what truth I beare.

Finis.

The Bridle of youth.

The wilde and wanton Coulte, that romes in pasture still,
And takes his foode with careles lippes, without restraint of will,
Is all vnmeete to serue vpon, till first by perfit guide,
With Bit and Bridle stronge he be, from wanton will fast tide:

Wherefore eche worthy wight, a rider fit doth finde,
To checke and breake such carlesse Coultes, as shall to them be sinde,
So likewyse beardlesse boyes, that reasons rule doth shonne,
In steede of Rider they by Rod, from vice to grace are wonne,
And both vnseemly were, for princely peares to vse,
A lacke therefore in such I deeme, as woulde them thus abuse.

Finis.

A farevvell to his vvorshipfull friende. T. D.

Do bloysterous blastes that blow, compell to hoyse thy sayle,
To driue the ship to calmer Port, vnto thy more aduaile.
O cease ye froward fluds, returne O ship to stay,
For thou in Barke so well befraught, hast al our ioyes away,
But since the witlesse windes, haue causde good ship to flee,
The selfe same blast shall shortly force, a sorte to sayle with thee,
And since thou wilt away, what haplesse hap befell,
That doth proceede of inwarde woe, I can but say farewell,
Farewell O Iustice iust, that didst vprightly stande
And eke to rayse the fallinge poore, that hadst prepared hande,
Farewel thou friendly hart, that wouldst do dwell alwayes,
With towarde minde & plighted paines, that sought thy founders praise
Farewell of minde so milde, vpspronge of right degree,
Soms inwarde thoughts vrge outward woes, that finde ye want of thee,
Farewell thou worthy wight, in guile that canst not faine,
That will do well as thou hast don, not one there coms againe,
Farewell if needes it must, so doth our losse befall,
Of honest wights though hence ye go, yet haue the hartes of all,
Farewell a friend to eche, farewell a foe to none,
Lo here in griefe my last farewell, farewell O friende alone.

Et puis, & clemens, & carus es omnibus vnus?
Nature prudens, conditione probus:
Viue Diu, venerande faue, reuerende valeto,
Hei mihi quod possum dicere, triste vale.

Finis.

I. Keeper to his frend. H.

Howell haunte hope hartely,
Hir happy hap haue humbly.
Hast hardie hart holde honestie,
Hir hartie hart I hight to thee.

Finis.

The life of man likened to a Stage playe, where on wee ought warelie to Walke.

Sith earth is stage wheron we play our parts,
And deeds are deemd accordyng to desarts,
Be warie how you walke vpon the same,
In playing your parte win prayse and banishe blame,

Remember how your tale once tolde straight way,
An other steps on stage his parte to play:
Lo whom of force you must geue vp your place,
As he that hath all redie runne his race.

Your porte, your powre, your wealth and wearing wede,
You then must yeelde to such as shall succede:
As thinges but lent to play your part withall,
Whose heyre shalbe euen as desarte doth fall.

Not he that plaieth the stateliest parte most prayse,
Nor he that weareth ritchest robes alwayes,
But he I say that beares him selfe most best,
Whether his parte be with the great or least.

Take heede therfore and play your part so well,
That afterwardes you may in saftie dwell:
Grope not to greedely for worldly gayne,
The ende wherof is transitory and vayne.

But be suffisde with that sufficient is,
And seeke the thinges that bryng eternall blisse,
So shall you heare not only win great prayse,
But after eke enioy most happie dayes.

Finis.

Regard thy end.

Unpleasant is the plight, of that most wofull wight,
That seeith with perfit sight, his life from him take flight,
And wanteth power and might, to slea and flee such spight.

Finis.

The lamentable historie of Sephalus with the vnfortunat end of Procris.

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To the tune of Appelles.

Who lust to vewe the heauy happes,
Of faythfull louers longe a go,
And eke suruaye their after clappes,
Muste needes me thinkes lament for woe,
If that my hart were framd of flynte
From teares yet hardly might it stinte.

I reade some time of Sephalus,
A lusty youth of noble blood,
Of face and fauor amorus
In Natures fauour far he stoode,
It neare woulde make a man agaste,
To marke hys lymbs and members plast.

So streight, so square, so trym was he,
So fayre of forme so wyse and sage,
He semde a sample sure to be,
And Lantarne to the yonger age,
And to conclude, he passed those,
That thought they made a goodly glose.

This brute (as youth will haue a spurte,
When lusty blood be gyns to broyle,)
Dyd flee from fredom to the courte,
Where Uenus only kepes the coyle,
Thus reason banisht quite a waye,
He warneth will to beare the swaye.

Then fancy forced by and by,
The wandringe eyes as skowtes to bee,
In secret sorte for to espie,
Or publykely to marke and see,
If any Lady weare in sight,
That might deserue this worthie knyght.

But sone alas they haue espyde,
The marke wheareat they shot so longe,
Faire Procris bewtie is descryde,
She blazde so bright her mates amonge,
Lo Sephalus doth nowe be gynne,
His Ladyes fauor fyrst to wynne.

Fewe daies were past lesse yeares were spēt
Tyll flattringe Fortune strake the stroke,
To loue eche other both were bent,
Loue did them both so sore prouoke,
What will you more if Fortune saye,
Yt shalbe thus saye you not naye.

Now nothinge greeued Sephalus,
But for to be a brydged fro,
His Ladies sight most gloryus
What greater greef might any grow
Fayre Procris Parents were so hard,
That she as Byrde in Cage was barde.

But Sephalus by fyne deuyse,
Of wytty hed and wary wyt,
Did put in practyse to intyse,
His Ladie thence what hap shoulde hit,
By letter then he did conclude,
That she her kepers should delude.

And to a Forest bye a pace,
Which he in letter namd also,
Where he did meane to byde her grace,
If that it woulde her pleace to goe,
The letters red shee sought his will.
In euery poynte for to fulfyll.

And to the apoynted place shee hide,
Expectinge still her Sephalus,
She gaue the slippe vnto her gyde,
Oh tracte of tyme most tedyus,
Oh Procris sure thine is the wronge,
That Sephalus a bydes so longe.

But neuer is the same to longe,
The Prouerbe sayth that comes at last
She spyde him in the ende amonge,
A sort of trees not makyng hast,
His Boowe was bent his arowe fast,
In Nut to shoote alredy plast.

She would not call for feare of foes,
Nor yet to hym she woulde repayre,
Lest that she shoulde the Deere vnroes,
That Sephalus had spyde at layre,
She geues him leaue to range his fill,
Full loth she is his sporte to spill.

The tyme did passe no game was founde,
And Sephalus was welnere tyrde,
Fayre Procris absence did hym wounde
For she was all that he desyrde,
Hee stoode not still he trugde about,
To se if he might fynde her out.

Lo fortune brought him nere the place,
Where Procris still alas did stande,
She blusshed yet to shewe her face,
She made no sygne but with her hand,
She tooke the bowes and them did shake,
A fearde to great a noyse to make.

But Sephalus when he espyde,
The leaues to wagge and bowes to shake,
He thought some beast did there him hyde,
And at hys commynge did awake,
Wherfore to see he thought it best,
If he might fynde him takinge rest.

And as he peeped here and theare,
He spyde a thinge of coler darke,
And iudginge it an ouglie Beare,
Dyschardgde hys bowe and hit the marke,
Through sturdy stroke and deadly wound,
He nayled Procris to the grownde.

Alas vnwares did Sephalus,
His Ladie kill and murder thus,
Oh greeff of greefs most dolorous,
Oh hap of Happs most pyteous
Deare Ladies steppe your foote to myne
To mourne with me your hartes inclyne.

When Sephalus his Procris founde,
Imbrude with blood on euery side
The arowe stickinge in the wounde,
That bleedinge sore did gape full wyde,
He curst the gods that skies possest
The systers three and all the rest.

And fayntly spake, no Ladie no,
You shall not vanishe hence a lone,
My ghoste alas your frendly foo,
Shall wayte your precyous soule vpon,
And wyth that worde to ende his lyfe,
He slue him selfe with bloody knyfe.

Lo Lordynges, here by take a vewe,
And Ladies marke what I shall saye,
Eche one to lyfe must say adue,
And to the earthe her owne repaye,
There is no choyse we see it so,
When death doth call we needs must go.

Finis.

A freindly admonishment to bee freinde to choose a wife.

Here liue in loue: for thy behoue, let reason rule thy choyce:
so shalt thou weare: Ulisses eare, to shun the Syrens voyce,
Beware and care: before thou stare, on womens painted eyes,
like Crocodiles: with poysoned smiles, they will thee cleane disguise,
If thou to catche: intendst a match, to liue in mariage sporte:
first marke and heare: what fame she beare, amonge the wiser sorte,
For market men: can tell thee then, how doth the market go,
if well thou heare: then draw thee neare, and be in sute not slo,

In womens mindes: are diuers winds, which stur their Aspin tunge,
to prate and chat, they know not what, by that much strife is sprong,
But take thou heede: and euer dreede, to matche with carters kinde,
for carters seede, is base of breede, whose maners ill wee finde,
They will deuise: both tales and lies, to bring thy house to square:
no honest man (if that she can,) with hir shall credit beare,
Such rusticke kinde: such faults will finde, whē they desarue the blame
and wilbe proude: and scould full loude; not passyng for hir fame,

The seruants good: from meate and foode, she will debar with paine:
and yet complaine, as though thy gaine, by them were spent in vaine,
To blinde thine eyes: she will haue spies, to bringe thee tales and lies,
as though for thrift, good huswiues shift, she doth for thee deuise,
When she in deede, her selfe will feede, and take her priuate gaine,
and make the weare kyng, Midas eare, as though she tooke the paine,
But in hir Wyne, she will diuine, and blab the secret minde:
to such hir mates: as chats and prates, according to hir kinde,

By this I say, a foole in play, by hir thou shalt be made:
and all the towne: will call thee clowne, which ridest on such a Iade,
Agayne a mayde, of honest trade, if thou wilt seeke to haue:
though riches want: yet like the Ant, by trauell will she saue.
An still enough, thy man at plough, and all thy seruants els,
shall of hir meate, both drinke and eate, no toyes nor lies she tels,
In quiet rest, she maketh nest, to lodge thy weary bones:
and will thee keepe, in quiet sleepe, from all deepe sighes and grones,

Amonge hir maydes, with honest trades, she puts hir hande in vse:
and alwaies dreades: hir husbands deedes, with scoldyng to abuse,
Besides all this: thou shald not misse, but haue an honest fame:
for such a wife: is chaste of life, and like Ulisses dame,
He is a cokes: and worthy strokes, whose wife the Breeches beare:
a Cuckolds hoode, to do him good, deserueth he to weare,
Take heede therfore: and keepe in store, this short admonishment:
Least had I wist: alas I mist, then doest to late repent.

Finis.

The Louer deceaued, writes to his Ladie.

[_]

To the tune of in Creet when dedalus.

Who wold haue thought that face of thine, had ben so ful of doblenes
Or eles within those Cristall eyne, had rest so much vnstablenes,
Thi face so fair thi look so straūg, who wold haue thought so ful of chaūg
But truth it is as most men saye, in Cutlers blade is had much craft,
Who chepneth thine & make no saye, maie buy on broken in the haft,
And then repent and saye as I, lo what it is, to truste the eye.
In sleper hold who can put trust, or iudge a glas of sure mettall,
Thou art to blame to seme so iuste, and prooue so false in the triall,
But sith thou arte so false in deede, best plucke the vp & spyll the seede,
So yonge in yeares, so old in crafte, some petie it is that thou so arte,
More petie it is that nature grafte, so good a face with a false harte,
But since thou art in such a case, to sell thy selfe and hide thy face.
The Ducke vntaught of verie kind, doth swime & diue after ye Dame,
And thou likewise of sliper mynde, dost show of whom thy nature came,
Thou foūdest in thy mothers papes, to bait wt craft thy pleasant trapes,
So as the new & false doth please, the changing mind within her graft,
So doth the old and true dissease, her subtill wittes and preiuie crafts
And say true man trust not to much, yt falfe reward ye cometh of such.

Finis.

Farewell for euer and this my last.

In vttringe his plaint, he declareth the vncertainty of fained frendship.

[_]

To the tune of winters iust returne.

If teares maie trie my troth, that trickle downe my cheekes,
or if my good will may be knowen, by profe of daies or weekes.
Then doe I wronge receaue, where frendship craue I moste,
and where in deed in euery storme, my vessell hath ben toste,
And through the tempestes all, my Shippe hath safly sayld,
and yet no Seas could shake my Barke, my hope hath so preuaild,
Oh helpe ye Courtiers now, and Soldiers euery ech one,
to wayle my present heuy fate, my Fortune fled and gone,
And curse this wicked world, wherin most frindes do fainte,
and namely such as tracte of time, hath taught their toungs to painte
Which promyse more by wordes, then will or workes performes,
such haue the curnels eaten all, and I coumpte them the wormes,
That gnawes the hartes of men, in peeces euery daye,
and such alas haue led my Shippe, a wery wilksome waie,
From whence if I retorne, I shall but wander still,
and fynd noe path to tread vpon, that can content my will,
Heare haue I hoyst my sayle, as hye as wind can blowe,
here had I frendes whose nod or becke, a world might ouer throwe,
And still my staienge staffe, did stand by one alone,
whase gentle hart is now become, as hard as Marble stone,
To me the case is such, that mishap thus is myne,
when I am worne vnto the bones, he letts me starue and pyne,
He lettes me sinke or swyme, and shifte by slight of brayne,
as though my head so gamesome were, to set on euery maine,
Since frendshipe feble growes, and men can causles chaunge,
and will this daie familliar be, and tourne to morrow straunge,
I will goe seke my happes, through fludes and salt Sea fome,
and rather perishe on the Rockes, then thus to starue at home,
Amongst my cheefest frendes, a mid my natuie soyle,
wher neuer yet in anye poynt, I suffered blot or foyle,
Where all the world might saie, I sucte vp many a wrounge,
where well a way some other thinke, I poore man liue to longe,
Where let my trueth be tried, I craue but small reward,
and where when fortune doth me right, the prince maie me regarde.

Finis.

The Vnsertaintie of seruice by Iohn Keeper to his friend Howell.

Of late whē Primrose gan to peare, on Medows bancke so green,
When Daises whit & Rose full red, most chearful al were seene,
A lustie wight of sturdye blood, in chiefest times of might,
I sawe to ride with corage hie, on Palfray trimly dight,
A Courtier right in brauest weede, of purest silks so gay,
with curious Chayne of goodly golde, so clad in courtlike ray,
Of liuely yeres, as fresh as Flower, a fine yonge man he was:
of manly minde not caring ought, how daies or yeres dyd passe.
Not ought did want that might prefer, the greatest ioylitie:
for hart and hands, both legges & limmes, were then in soueraigntie,
As thus he rode incoradge bolde, as well him semde full braue:
he met in Feild an aged man, well ny his ghastly graue.
Of coulor pale with writhed browes, and wrinckled face to note,
who leande vnto his feble staffe, with slender leggs god wot,
Most homlie was his ragged ray, as man that carde for none,
of lims so leane in hungrye corpes, a simple soule alone,
This lustie youth when once he sawe, where such poore man abode,
he plies his spurs to horses sides, and fast he thither rode,
And askde from whence & what he was, and what was Fortunes rage,
why toyle of youth could not prouide, for this gray hored age.
This aged man when he behelde, that lustie lad so nie,
he lifted vp his croked corps and gasde with white of eye,
And pointed vp his shaking hands, that nought were els but bones,
with feble voice and sobbing sighes, thus poures he out his mones,
Welcom good sonne, I wish thee well, in these thy timely yeres:
and God encrease by hys decre, thy life in happie cheares.
But I haue seen and tride to true, that those that run thy race:
though youth be braue, yet age shall wayle, in most vnhappy case.
For I in times haue serude in Courte, as braue as brauest of all:
but witlesse youth, could not for see, ill haps, that might befall,
I wayle my case, and rue the men that run the selfe same way:
whose endes will chaunce a like to mine, lest for wit, will, do stay,
Wherfore yonge man, take heede betime, least folly worke thy paine.
youth stands not still, for times do fleete, as fluds do flow amaine:

And since thou art a seruitour, this learne of aged man,
a miserable life thou ledst, if toyles with fruites thou scan.
Of seruing men therfore will I, declare the state to thee.
that thou forewarnde by me mayst learne, to flee that misere.
When first thou comst to seruice trade, it semth full sweet a far
but warie be, most sweet to men, all vnexpert, is war.
And eke this talke that I declare, by preofe I know it true:
would God I had not seene it tride, my haplesse hap to rue.
Beware by me, in present youth, who was in ioylitee:
he happy is whom others harms, do warie cause to bee.
Thy mayster first will thee accept, and loue thee passyng well:
when lustie Age and limmes of youth, and riches doo excell:
As longe as thou canst beare thy charge, thy proper costs to spende,
which thou to honour well thy Lorde, dost liberally extende,
As longe as thou with money storde, or qualities art freight,
most fayre thy maister speekes to thee, most ioyfull is his plight:
Most chearefull peares his pleasant face, all times continually:
and still he saith, he full is bent to help, and chearish thee.
Fayr words they say, make fooles to faine, trust not swet promise kind
before the deedes agree to wordes, which thou by proofe shalt finde.
For though thou be, in fauour greatst, yet coms a sudden blast,
that Maisters loue, may turne to hate, as one dispisde at last.
Still shalt thou plie, both carks and cares, for maysters worthy state:
to ride, to run, in heate and colde, at times both er and late,
In perels plunge and dangers greate, thou fealst continuallie:
thy life thou dost aduenture oft, for Maisters cause to dye,
When others sleape in quiet bedde, thou ridst in nightes that be,
in shewres and stormes to do the thyng, that Lorde commits to thee.
In perels oft of enmies swordes, in groues and bushie place,
this doutfull waies for Masters cause, thou runst in painfull race.
At home thou must in presence be, to shewe thy diligence,
for maister all the trauaile is, but all thine owne expense.
In order thinges thou must addresse, both here and theare to goe:
to crie and call, to talke and toyle, this is thy endles woe,
Now master calls, now mistris speakes, now vp and downe goe now,
now tarie here, now goe thou theare, at all commaundes be thou.

Yet when thy maister likes thee well, thy mistris may shee hate:
and thus betwene Caribdis rockes, thou sailst in doubtfull state.
Yf both thee loue, tis but for times, they stande vnconstantcie,
for maister geues, his eare perhaps, to fauninge flatterie.
And then a preuie fooe maye worke, a treuthles tale to tell:
that fauour sleeth, and maister hateth, whom late he loued full well.
O cruell tonge, O masters fonde, that so will bende their eares,
to cause a faithfull seruantes hart, to mone in heauie cheares.
But thousande wayes besides may growe, displeasurs great in place,
that shall thee bring from ioyfull hart, into a dolefull case.
This is the surest certaintie, of seruice that maie fall,
this is the wofull haps of men, in place illiberall.
At beck thou art, to come and goe, a bondage tis yee see.
who wilbe linckt in seruitude, if well he may go free?
The crouked clowne, with all his toyle, fealth not one halfe thy paine,
to whom the tylled soyle restores, for laboures gratefull gayne.
But thou for fruites so well deserued, by longe applied care,
perchaunce may get but only hate, not one good worde to spare.
O Barraine lande, O frutelesse feilde, to bringe a sort to woes:
for when they hopde to haue rewarde, nought els but hatred groes.
What man can iudge of such a soyle, that hath both eyes to see,
but that he will accompt the ende, a mortall misere:
If once thou hapst away to be, when maister cals thee well,
what checks thou hast at thy retorne, I neede not here to tell.
Yea oft we see for absence small, though cause full great appeare,
thy maister taunth, and maistris frownes, as Heg of Hell she weare.
And once if thou from fauour fall, then laboureth flatteryng spies:
to hoyse thee out of fauour cleane, by lewde and knauish lies.
And commonly this thing doth hap, when youth and goods are spent,
for then to driue thee of in deede, his minde is fully bent:
And soone will he geue credit then, to those that thee depraue:
alas for all our carkes and cares, this is rewarde wee haue,
When faithfull man hath thus long serued, in truth of tried hart:
in thend shall vice ingratytude, retracte his iust desarte,
O youth beware, O men bewyse, what foole so blinde is hee.
that will spende out his youthfull yeres, such seruingman to be?

A seruyngman, what mome will loue, their names are odious,
their life abhorde as wicked waies, and trade most impious,
This will the hellish sclaunderous lipps, of honest man report,
and though the seruingeman be good, yet rayles the enuious sort:
When thus is spent thy golden youth, and many goodly yeres:
and left the waies of surer life, where greater fruites appeares;
When spent be goods both stock and store, and all in seruice care:
and liued longe at charge of freinds, whose bagges for thee go bare.
Then comth on thee displeasures great, at one vnhappy howre.
that maister hates whom well he loued, & turnes thee out his dowre.
Then age with charge and toyling paines, so many yeres of trust,
are now at once on sudden lost, and all is layde in dust:
Thus thou for toyle and great expense, hast small rewarde to take:
now age draweth on and all is spent, and all men thee forsake,
And thou art left in beggers state, that were in youth so fine,
what miserie is like to this, what woes then like to thine:
In hope some liue to be preferde, for worke to haue his gaine,
but hope may misse, though wide he gap, he gapeth perchaūce in vaine
Where one wee see to be preferde, three liue for lacke as staruid.
and other eke shall haue the fruites, that they haue well deseruide.
And this is cause that I olde man, am poore whom none regarde,
for I haue felt for seruice longe, the maisters short rewarde,
What greater plagues or woes can be, then lost deserued meede,
and Lorde to turne his seruant of, in time of greatest neede:
Of seruice longe this is the ende, as still by proofe ye see,
for faithfull harts of seruants true, these are rewardes that bee.
For longe expense and charge of freinds, this is rewarde againe,
for lost of time in golden youth, this is the tried gaine.
For toyling paines and labours longe, this fruitelesse endes that bee:
alas this is the death of some, when Lordes ingrate they see,
But cheefe when age, doth once appeare, that labour none they haue,
the mistres cries what makst thou heare, be packing doting knaue:
So are they like vnto the Dog in Hunt that runs his race,
who hath in youth been well esteemde, and liuide in careles case,
But when in age he weried is, that hunting all is past.
go hange, they crie the cursed cur, this is roward at last.

This is the ende, this is rewarde, for paines and lost of age:
O learne yonge man that seruice then, in none inheritage.
A signe of this of youth ill spent, an aged man am I,
alas no refuge is for me, O death nowe let me die.
O wretched state, O cruell course, O port of penurie,
O pitte of pagnes, O pestilent race, O sincke of miserie,
O witles waies O frutles factts, O badge of beggers state,
O plumpe of paines O endles woes, O man infortunate.
Retire my sonne this race to run, that life vnsertaine is,
who liues in state of Seruitours, liues still in doubtfulnes.
What is the cause, ingratitude, withdrawes the helpyng hande,
since seruing weights by dayly toyle, are praise of noble band,
What is the state of noble troope, if saruants haue no powres,
alone is knowen a princely porte, by traine of seruitoures?
By seruice dew is well distinct, of state the right degrees:
as seruants serue in hoping harts, and crouch with humble knees.
Where are the men more courteous, then men of seruice free:
what men are more of comely corps, then Courtly seruants be?
Who knowes the course and trade of men, but seruants daily care?
who are more feate or trim traind vp, then manerd seruants are?
Who stronge or tall of personage, but men of seruants route?
who beares the cares & bront of wars, but seruants arms so stoute:
What then of more necessitie, then seruitours full trewe:
why then shall they haue ill rewards, in thend their states to rewe?
Lo here good sonne I haue declarde, some part of thy degre:
beware betimes, hereafter say, that I haue tolde it thee:
Then came this courtly Courtier, wherin his prayse redownes,
and gaue vnto this aged man, for helpe full twentie Crownes,
And saide till death in mindefull brest, this counsall will I graue,
and eke in time I hope by wit, thereof the fruites to haue,
I thanckes restord withe hartye loue, which tongue dooth faint to tell:
god thee preserue in happie dayes, O Father deare farewell:
Fare well (quoth he) with thousande thankes, & God thy iorney speede
which thus hast helpe my aged yeres, in times of greatest neede,
Thus sayd: that aged man full glad, with lingring steps on went.
and laith his corps in plesant shade, of Oken tree so bent:

For tonge with talke now werie was, and hart for gift was glad:
wherefore he went to recreat, his limmes that weaknesse had,
And laying downe his bodie weake, he layde his Staffe him bye,
and leande his head on Elbow bare, and closde his sleeping eye.

Finis.

Howell to his freinde keper.

The seruynge state which you reiect,
By open cause that you detect,
Deserues so great a prayse in deede,
As great contempts cannot exceede.

Who serues not God is voyde of blisse,
In noble seruice freedom is,
And he that hath cleare eyes to see,
Perceaues that all men seruants bee.

For Princes greatst serue God aboue,
And men them serue in God by loue,
As God geueth gifts who him regards,
So Lord his seruant true rewards.

What greate rewards of Maisters be,
By seruice got wee dayly see?
Some Knights be dubde for their awarde,
To greater state, thence forth prefarde.

And eke wee see in meaner sort,
The Lords that keepe the stately port,
Theire seruants keepe in ioylitie,
And them prefar to dignitie.

If seruants then receaue their meede,
And eche man seruant is in deede,
In this disprayse of them so prest,
Include your selfe emongst the rest.

They are preferd, why say ye noe,
Their Maisters gifts do dayly growe,
Exalt therfore good Courteours,
And eke the courte ef Seruitours.

Finis.

keeper his answer to. H.

Freind Howell hope thou quietly,
To serue thy Lord most faithfully,
No man to much can prayse such men,
No Maister good depraues my pen.

I speake of Maister Couetous,
Unkinde, vniust, vncourteous,
Unsweet, vnmeet, to serue at all,
Not good, not iust, not liberall.

Therfore ye take my worde amisse,
All saruants are most true it is:
Yet I do gesse by inwarde moode,
All seruants serue not Maisters good.

Finis.