 | H. His Deuises |  |
To the Reader.
Where none but Nature is the guyde, Minerua hath no parte,Then you her Nurcelings beare with him, yt knows no aide of arte.
I wake my wyts to please my selfe, nought reaking praise or blame,
I force my pen to purge my brayne, though matter small I frame.
In which attempt, if lack of skill, haue led my Muse awry,
Let my well meaning minde the misse, in eche respect supply.
If patterns wrought by Arte, of curious workman here thou seeke,
Thy trauayle then thou shalt but lose, to looke and neuer leeke.
But if good will may thee suffise, peruse, and take thy pleasure,
In Natures schoole my little skill: I learned all by leasure.
Here nothing placed is, that may the vertuous sorte offende,
Though enuious Carpers barke and snarle, at things they scarce can mende.
Whose chiefest grace is wise to seeme, by blotting others deedes,
Whose paynted flowers in proofe full oft, fall out but stincking weedes.
The chaste desyre with honest ryme, mislykes no whitt in minde,
But venomde Spyders poyson take, where Bee doth honey finde.
With greater ease a fault is founde, then well to welde the reste:
It differs much to tell the tale, and words misplaste to wreste.
By patterns here displayed to thee, thou mayst perhaps preuente
The poysoning bayts of bitter sweete, whose blisse brings sharp euente.
Disloyall loue and filthie lust, thou here art taught to flee:
With other Sawes to sundry endes, though hewed rough they bee.
That lyfe is lyke a Bubble blowne, or smoke that soone doth passe,
That all our pleasures are but paynes, our glorie brittle glasse.
That Fortunes fruites are variable, no holde in Princely mace:
That womens myndes are mutable, that death drawes on apace.
That worldly pompe is vanity, that youth vnwares decayes:
That high estate is slipperie, that onely vertue stayes,
Here learne thou mayst: with diuers notes, gaynst fraude and flattery,
That may suffise to warne the wise, to voyde such battery.
And eke thou here mayst viewe and see, howe Bewtie cruell haste:
Doth make, to shun the gallant face, where she but late was plaste.
That she is Natures priueledge, and so is sayd to bee
Because she seldom giues that gyfte, but where she cause doth see.
And yet with silente crafte she can, perswade the hardest harte.
She conqueres where she coms by kinde: for Creatures faire procure,
By naked lookes, such yeelding harts, as they wishe to allure.
Whose vayne delyghts if thou desier, thy thryfte goes to the grounde,
(And yet by honest loue we see, the greatest wealth is founde.)
Apollos troope my faults will passe, and waye my want herein,
Whose freindly fauor if I gaine, I prise not Pan a pin.
The trauell myne, the pleasure thine, if ought thou here doe leeke,
Thy good reporte, for paynes ymployed is sole rewarde I seeke.
Uirtus honorem parit.
| H. His Deuises | |