H. His Deuises :: :: University of Virginia Library

H. His Deuises

for his owne exercise, and his Friends pleasure [by Thomas Howell]

Howell, Thomas (fl. 1568-1581)

[epigraph]

[dedication]

[section]

To the Reader.

Delightfull Discourses to sundry purposes.

No assurance but in Vertue.

Prosperitie ought not cause presumption, nor aduersitie force dispayre.

Once warnde, twice armde.

Flattery the Vayle of Frawde.

No greater contrariety, then in the passions of Loue.

In vttering of sorrowe, some solace.

Miserie the ende of Letchery.

The paines of Louers great, but mine grieuous.

Ruine the rewarde of Vice.

The best Natures, soonest abused.

He lykeneth his lotte to Virgils.

All of greene Willow, Willow, Willow, Willow, Sithe all of greene Willow shall be my Garland.

All of greene Lawrell.

No newe fancies, shall alter olde lyking.

A Dreame.

The lamentable ende of Iulia Pompeis Wyfe.

Secrecy, for some sorrowes, a needefull remedy.

The ende of lyfe, the begynning of blysse.

They soonest yeelde remedy, that haue felt lyke extremetie.

A Poesie.

Vnthankfulnesse of minde, a monster in Nature.

Noble minds eyther conquer, or couer.

Vng ie seruirey.

Doe, or be still.

He denies quickly, that giues slowly.

Women are wordes, Men are deedes.

Enuye euer depraueth deserte.

A Winters Morning muse.

Mans lyfe likened to a Stage play.

To his Mistresse.

Rewarde doth not alwayes aunswere deserte.

Who hurte, must heale.

Of Loue.

Of Bayes and Willow.

An Epitaph vpon the death of the Lady Katherine, late Countesse of Pembrooke.

Ultimum vale.

In aduersitie, is best seene Vertues excellency.

Sorrowe disclosed, somewhat eased.

Omnis fortuna superanda ferendo est.

H. His Reply to his friend, A. M.

H. to himselfe.

Written to a most excellent Booke, full of rare inuention.

Where Sorrowe is setled, delyght is banished.

The complainte of a sorrowfull wight, founde languishing in a Forrest.

Of Fancie.

Aunswere.

Euer sought, neuer founde.

A Poesie.

Aunswere.

Euery thing is as it is taken.

To his Lady of her doubtfull aunswere.

Helpe best welcome, when most needefull.

Of the Golden worlde.

In mediocritie, most safetie.

To the same.

That valiant hartes are desyrous to aspyre.

Aunswere.

Another waye.

To his Friend E. R. of the Bee.

Sure counsell, sounde friendship.

They performe not best, that promise most.

Bewtie the bayte of Vanitie.

Of Fortune.

A Sonet.

To her Louer, that made a conquest of her, and fled, leauing her with childe.

Being burdened to fayne his good will, he aunswereth thus.

Chaunge of Country, shall not chaunge fancie.

Where abilitie fayleth, wyll suffyceth.

Mans impietie, faynes false Deitie.

In loue smale iarres, sometime breede best content.

What Nature seuereth, Arte hardly ioyneth.

He wysheth well to the Crabbe and Maple Tree in Milfeelde, for the Ladies sake that met there vnder them.

Being charged with finenesse, he answereth thus.

Such Saintes, such seruice.

I follow what flyeth from me.

No griefe to wante of due regarde.

The variable thoughts of a Louer.

R. T.

Aunswere.

Another waye.

His aunswere to one that wrote, faynte hartes that feare to synne, fayre Ladyes syldome winne.

To I. N.

H. To his mishap.

Falsyfying of Fayth, breedes many complaynts.

To his Song, sent to his Mistresse.

A Poesie.

Aunswere.

The vanitie of rytches.

Discorde makes weake, what concorde left strong.

Of one that came to borrow money.

Aunswere.

Truth feareth no tryall.

He complayneth his mishap, with promise to keepe her honor.

G. To his Ladye.

For smale offence, smale punishment.

Loues myghtinesse growes by Louers weaknesse.

A comparison of his troubles.

I. K. to H. being sicke.

Admonition to his Friend.

Who seekes this Worlds felicitie, Fyndes nothing else but vanitie.

To a Flatterer.

Aunswere.

Reason and Fansie doe often varie.

A Poesie.

Certaine Verses translated out of Petrark, concerning Rome, written by him many yeares since.

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The variable thoughts of a Louer.

I liue in hope and yet despayre,
Reioysing most when griefe doth growe:
I mounte aloft aboue the ayre,
Yet lead my life in Limbo lowe.

I neuer seeke, though much I finde,
Yet finde I nought and still doe seeke:

I see what best contents my minde,
When most in minde I doe misleeke.

One holdes me in captiuitie,
So sure that I ne once may swerue:
Albeit I liue at libertie,
As free from bands that I deserue.