H. His Deuises for his owne exercise, and his Friends pleasure [by Thomas Howell] |
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Ruine the rewarde of Vice.
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 | H. His Deuises |  |
Ruine the rewarde of Vice.
To
you fayre Dames whose bewties braue do floorish,
To you whose daintie dayes in ioyes are spent:
To you whose prayse Dame Nature seekes to poolish,
To you whose fancie Venus doth frequent.
To you I wryte with harte and good intent,
That you may note by viewe of what I say,
How Natures giftes soone vade and slyde away.
To you whose daintie dayes in ioyes are spent:
To you whose prayse Dame Nature seekes to poolish,
To you whose fancie Venus doth frequent.
To you I wryte with harte and good intent,
That you may note by viewe of what I say,
How Natures giftes soone vade and slyde away.
Your loftie lookes, time downe full lowe shall raze,
Your stately steps age eke will alter quite:
Your fraile desyre that kindleth Cupids blase,
Whose heate is prone to follow foule delight,
The whip shalbe, that shall you sharply smite:
When euery vice that sproong of Fancies fittes,
Repentance brings, to those the same committes.
Your stately steps age eke will alter quite:
Your fraile desyre that kindleth Cupids blase,
Whose heate is prone to follow foule delight,
The whip shalbe, that shall you sharply smite:
When euery vice that sproong of Fancies fittes,
Repentance brings, to those the same committes.
Is not the pride of Helens prayse bereft?
And Cresside staynde, that Troian Knight imbrased:
Whose bewties bright but darke defame hath left,
Unto them both through wanton deedes preferred.
As they by dynte of Death their dayes haue ended,
So shall your youth, your pompe, and bewties grace,
When nothing else but vertue may take place.
And Cresside staynde, that Troian Knight imbrased:
Whose bewties bright but darke defame hath left,
Unto them both through wanton deedes preferred.
As they by dynte of Death their dayes haue ended,
So shall your youth, your pompe, and bewties grace,
When nothing else but vertue may take place.
Then shake of Uice ye Nymphes of Cressids Crue,
And Uertue seeke, whose praise shall neuer die:
With fylthie lust your bodies not imbrue,
As did this Ilion Dame most wickedly,
Whose blisse by bale was plagude so greeuously,
That loe her lyfe in Lazars lodge she ended,
Who erst in Courte most curiouslye was tended.
And Uertue seeke, whose praise shall neuer die:
With fylthie lust your bodies not imbrue,
As did this Ilion Dame most wickedly,
Whose blisse by bale was plagude so greeuously,
That loe her lyfe in Lazars lodge she ended,
Who erst in Courte most curiouslye was tended.
Her Corps that did King Priams sonne delight,
Consumde with cares, sent forth sad sighes full colde:
Her azurde vaynes, her face and skinne so white,
With purple spottes, seemde vgly to beholde.
Eche lymme alas corruption gan vnfolde,
In which distresse, and bitter straine of ruth,
She begges her bread, for falsing fayth and truth.
Consumde with cares, sent forth sad sighes full colde:
Her azurde vaynes, her face and skinne so white,
With purple spottes, seemde vgly to beholde.
Eche lymme alas corruption gan vnfolde,
In which distresse, and bitter straine of ruth,
She begges her bread, for falsing fayth and truth.
No sorrow then might salue her lewde offence,
Nor raze the blotte that bred her black defame:
Her dolefull daies alas founde no defence:
Twas now to late to shunne the sheete of shame,
Which had bewrapt her wrackfull blemisht name,
So brode was blowne her crime and cursed case,
That worlds bewrayed her frowning fates disgrase.
Nor raze the blotte that bred her black defame:
Her dolefull daies alas founde no defence:
Twas now to late to shunne the sheete of shame,
Which had bewrapt her wrackfull blemisht name,
So brode was blowne her crime and cursed case,
That worlds bewrayed her frowning fates disgrase.
Loe here the ende of foule defyled lyfe,
Loe here the fruite that sinne both sowes and reapes:
Loe here of Uice the right reward and knyfe,
That cuttes of cleane and tumbleth downe in heapes,
All such as tread Dame Cressids cursed steppes,
Take heede therfore how you your pryme do spende,
For Uice brings plagues, and Uertue happy ende.
Loe here the fruite that sinne both sowes and reapes:
Loe here of Uice the right reward and knyfe,
That cuttes of cleane and tumbleth downe in heapes,
All such as tread Dame Cressids cursed steppes,
Take heede therfore how you your pryme do spende,
For Uice brings plagues, and Uertue happy ende.
| H. His Deuises | |