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The Authors encouragement not to be discomforted for the follie of euery finde-fault.

If men may credit auncient writs,
or nouels great of fame,
Or wander safelie through the straites,
where Wisedome winnes her name:
Or if deedes done in former daies,
may haue some fresh attyre:
To make the Reader arme himselfe,
a new with fresh desire:
Or if that Poets pennes, may winne
such profit for their paine,
As elder daies did gladlie yeeld,
as guerdon for their gaine,
Or if that praises spoke in right,
and glorie of a King:
Vnto the Author breed no spight,
but true æternizing:
Then haue I hit the white
where-at ten thousand shoote:
If acceptance be the leaues,
and gratitude the roote.

For why such Dastards as doe doubt,
the noyse of ratling Drum:
By my consent shall neuer be,
prefer'd to Captaines roome.
For he that doubts annoy,
before his sute begin:
May lump in bogue with countrie Kate,
when ventrous Ladies win.
So he that spares the poole to lade,
can hardly come by fish:
Nor he that still conceales his griefe,
can euer win his wish.
Nor yet the Meacocks minde,
that's drownde in selfe conceit,
Can euer scale Pernassus Tops,
although the pathe be straight.
So he that feares the frumpe,
of euery lesting swaine:
Conceales the pride of natures gifts,
and spends his time in vaine.
Each writer must be arm'd,
to beare and brooke a scoffe:
And as it is by follie giuen,
with wisdome shake it off.
Dispaire not for a scorne,
leane still on patience staffe:
For Pallas clearkes are sifted out,
as Corneis from the Chaffe.

Striue thou with all thy strength,
the golden meane to keepe:
Please thou the good, and let the rest
in scorners saddle sleepe.
Let all the rash rewardes,
not make thee ill apaide,
Thy worke shall keepe thy fame aliue,
when they full lowe are laide.
And children yet vnborne,
shall descant on thy deeds,
With treble blessings to the ground,
that bare such happie seeds.
Grudge not to loose an inch,
so thou maist gaine an ell:
Feare not at all the fooles reproofe,
if wise-men like thee well.
Thou must be bought and solde,
by difference of delights:
Some laude the life of bloudy Mars,
some reuerence carpet Knights.
Some honor loue, some loath her lawe,
some musicke doe esteeme:
Some hunt, some hauke, with seuerall sports
such as they decrest deeme.
Giue euery man his scope,
to loue what he likes best:
Weake is the worke that willing mindes
make not a welcome guest.

Leaue off thy hope to please,
both Court and countrie too;
Or else thou tak'st in hand a worke,
that Christ could neuer doe.
Driue from thy studie slouth,
with paine be busie still:
So shall thy wants be all excus'd,
and guarded with good wil.
FINIS.

An Epitaph vpon the death of our late Soueraigne Ladie, of famous memory Queene Elizableth.

All dames that euer tryumpht in ioy,
With sorrowfull hearts come waile ye.
Your pleasant Songs may turne to sobbes,
No sighings can preuaile yee:
A Diamond flower of late ye lost,
Whose loyall heart was kept with cost,
For euer let fame her name goe boast.
Shee makes me sigh when I should sleepe,
With blubberd teares lamenting,
No earthly ioy can profer'd be,
To my poore hearts contenting:
But still, and still in sorrow I say,
A precious pearle is turn'd to clay,
Whose vertues floorisht as flower in may.
This wretched life compar'd may be,
Vnto the flowers springing,
Or to the bird on loftie bush,
That surged notes is singing:
Yet in the minute of an houre.
The fowler doth her breath deuour,
And life retaines no longer power.
The fragrants flower that euer did grow,
The beauty will be fleeting,
The brauest branch that euer did blow,
With Sythe sometime is meeting:
The stoutest h'art that ere was borne,
Hath been disgrac't and left forlorne,
Death holdes all golden giftes in scorne.
What though her mortall shape be gone?
Her memorie restes behinde her:
Deseruing praise of worthy dames,
That many a day will minde her.
Then though her corpes be shrin'd in clay,
And death hath reft her hence away,
Her noble fame shall liue for aye.
Virtutie excepta, concedunt omnia fato.
FINIS.

God saue

[_]

This poem is an acrostic.

In memorable brasse let there be writ
An euerlasting storie of a King:
Maruell of men! wonder of chiefest wit!
Eternall glorie doth to England bring.
So let his stile be fram'd, and he be said,
Englands true King, successor of a Maide.
Know forraigne powers: Englands true loyaltie,
Is bent in seruice to her Soueraigne King:
Nor shal the fierce allar'ms, nor frowne of enemy
Giue alteration, or daunted courage bring.
O no, she shall, first in a scarlet flood,
Fight to the lips, with losse of dearest blood.
Euen as the day which first proclaim'd his name,
Neuer as yet did seeme to make an end:
Glorious with bon-fires pyl'd on stateliest frame,
Lookt like the morning, the Sun, the night: which did pretend
A quiet raigne, & happy to our King;
Neare ceasing Ioyes and his æternizing.
Do therefore England, marching in stately traines,
Englands true Leige-lord, welcome bid (King Iames.)
God saue King James.

Englands vvelcome to Iames by the grace of God, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, defender of the faith, &c.

Canto. I.

Even as a widdow hauing lost her spouse,
Doth close her mourning thoughts in sable hew.
So was't with me when I lost my repose,
My sole defendresse hauing bid adew;
My adamantine rocke, which was so true.
For like a widdow mourning for her mate,
I hung my head, my trembling sence did shake.
I was affraide, yet knew not what to feare,
A chilling tremor did possesse my bones;
I listned still, yet still I naught could heare,
Which did augment my mourning and my mones,
And made me sigh with many sorrowing grones.
Musing vpon my state, I heard one sing,
Cheare vp thy heart, for thou shalt haue a King.

This vnexpected voice pierc'd through my eares,
And made a passage to my sorrowing hart:
Where it was mourning, circumcinct with feares,
Lamenting wofullie his maisters smart,
As one being smitten with a poysoned Dart.
The voice amaz'd it, it gaz'd on the voice,
The voice spake thus, and bid my heart reioyce.
What though thy Prince, haue had a prosperous raigne,
Thou must not thinke for euer t'enioy one Prince:
What though in peace, she did thee long maintaine,
(Peace-giuing God can giue an other Prince,
And he shall be a Noble vertuous Prince,
Which shall in wealth, in loue, in truth, and peace,
Encrease thy ioyes, encreasing still, increase.
Long maist thou Ioy, and he a Prince may be,
Whose Scepter swayes the glory of thy land:
Whose Sun-like beames, Europe shall shining see,
Vpholding England, good with happie hand,
Glorious adornment, of thy peacefull land:
His states most state-like each in his degree,
Shall grac'd be by his gracious Maiestie.
And he himselfe, grac'd by the Gods aboue,
With learning by (Ioues of spring richly dight:)
His minde hath beautified, with wisdomes loue,
Pallas endu'd him: Joue whome all men dread,
(As all men ought that mighty King to dread.)
All other graces which could wished be,
Hath dew'd in plenty on his maiesty.

Cease to lament encounter griefe with ioy,
And thou shalt quickely haue the vpper hand:
Ioy in thy King and thinke it is a ioy,
To haue a vertuous Prince gouerne thy land:
Which shall against all forraine foes withstand:
This hauing said quite vanisht was the voyce,
I rouz'd me vp my heart begun t'reioyce.
Yet still I stai'd, and feard it was a dreame,
Me thought it was too pleasing to be true:
I look't about, (as gazing on a streame,
Ones eyes are dazled with the sliding view,
Seeing the water heere, was there but new)
So were my eyes, I naught distinct could see:
My eyes were in my minde, minde in my eye.
Long had I not thus look't with mixed dint,
When loe, I saw fast fixed on a poast
A long broade scroule, in Proclamation print,
And Nobles names vpon it were imbost,
Which did adorne the paper, it the poast,
I started vp thinking to reade the names:
When vnderneath I saw, God saue King James.
I trembling stood, as one was still in feare,
I gaz'd about as one was still amaz'd:
Vntill a wel-tun'd concord I might heare,
With one consent and still one name they prais'd,
And still made me in feare, which was amaz'd.
I drew me neere to heare what they did sing,
I heard them sing King Iames, God saue our King.

Then as the widdow I reioyc't a fresh,
And quite forgot the sorrow I was in:
When she is tempt with frailty of the flesh,
To take new husband, new Ioyes to begin,
And hauing taine him being trick and trim,
As she is gladsome on her wedding day,
So I reioyc't hearing them thus to say.
No sooner had I with mind-casting counts,
Ponder'd his title, and his true descent,
His Noble vertues, each other to surmount:
In high'st degree, in striuing conflict bent,
His gratious wisdome and his gouernment.
But as the Sun enseweth still the raine,
My heart did leape and so reioyc't againe.
No sooner had my of-spring heard t'was true,
It had pleas'd God giue them a gratious King,
When each in pompe, and each in publike view,
His royall name which did this comfort bring:
With one assent concordingly did sing,
My greater powers in state, which state proclaimes,
With caps vp throwne, God saue our King, King James.
Thus loue and duety tooke each others parts,
They shew'd their duetie in obedience,
Loue shew'd it elfe within their ioyful hearts,
(As when in loue, with a selfe feeling sence,
The Louer giues his loue preheminence.)
So did my people ioyfullie reioyce:
Lauding their King with one concording voice.

The little birds proude of this vnitie,
Begun to tune their chirping siluer'd notes,
The lofty trees glad of their harmonie,
Did entertaine them in their new greene coats,
Sending foorth musicke from melodious throats,
The tree's adorn'd the birds, the birds the trees,
Who flockt into them (as a swarme of Bees.)
Which lately hauing left their wonted hiue,
Partly for noueltie, and parte for loue:
For loue, to let the little yonglings thriue:
(Which doth in Bees a kindely nature prooue)
Themselues into some other place remooue.
Where on some bushe, or clagging on some tree,
They doe remaine, till they new hyued bee.
As flew the Bees in swarmes, so did the birds,
For they came flocking to thee (all haile sing trees)
As flee the Bees, their hiue, so did the birds,
They left the easings, when past were colde degrees
Of snowy winter, and congealed freeze.
And singing set in trees, welcome thou spring:
The springing happines of (Iames our King.)
Like trees, and Birds, so did Dame Tellus too,
For she put on her naturall ornaments,
As when her louer comes her for to wooe:
She decks her selfe in richest complements:
And doth perfume her breath with sweetest sents,
So did she now, for this was in the spring,
And in her pride she went to meete our King.

I gladsome was to see her loyall roabe,
Her spangled garments, and her light-some cheare;
(As in a frostie night, within the globe
A glorious sight of bright-some starres appeare,
Who with their twinckling stemme now there, now here:)
So was her kirtle all imbrodring set,
Heere, with a primrose: there, a violet.
Her other ornaments be suited this,
For she was Prince-like in her chiefest prime;
Her sweet perfumes she still did seeme to kisse,
As being glad they in so fit a time
Came to adorne her; that in pompe and prime,
With her delights, she might new pleasures bring,
And be a ioyance to (King Iames our King.)
The modest Muses tended on her grace,
The Graces round about her seem'd to sing;
The fri,king Fayries daunc'd their rounds apace,
The melodie was such the place did ring:
Their Song they sung was still (God saue the King.)
Amongst the rest, I gladdest of the rest,
Tun'd vp my Lute, and sung amongst the best.

A Sonnet.

Let Phœbus in his brightest rayes.
Tune vp Apollos voice,
Let mortals in these happie daies
With gladsome hearts reioyce:
With one consent let vs all say,
Of late there hap't a happie day:
Therefore reioyce, reioyce therefore, reioyce & sing,
For it hath pleas'd God to giue vs a King.
Let all the true and noble hearts,
Wherewith England abounds:
Unto their King, of rarest parts,
Be loyall subiects found.
Sing they melodious harmony,
Sing welcome, welcome hartily,
Therefore reioyce, reioyce therefore, reioyce and sing,
For it hath pleas'd God to giue vs a King.

The second Canto.

As I was singing thus with cheerefull voice,
The Anticke voice appeares, which earst appear'd,
England, quoth she, seeing thou hast chiefest choyce
Of true Nobilitie and gallant Peeres,
Why dost forget to recompence their cares;
Who with their wisedome and their pollicie,
Kept thee in peace, being in miserie.
If that their wisedomes had not well fore-seene,
Thy dangers eminent being in distresse,
When thou hadst lost thy latest Soueraigne Queene;
Plunging in woe, wayling in wretchednesse,
Lamenting still thy late lost Gouernesse:
Thou mightst haue falne to some seditious hand,
Which would haue rac'd thy name and spoil'd thy land.
Perhaps thou may'st thus foolishly reply,
(They knew my King had right and tytle good:)
Therefore I might liue in securitie,
Seeing that there was no feare of shedding blood;
The way to his succession plainly stood.
If thou sayst thus, thou proou'st thy selfe vnwise,
For he that hath least right will soonest rise.
For he whose tytle is direct and plaine,
And needes no varnishing to set it out;
And hath a spotlesse minde, free from disdaine,
And liues secure, not hauing cause to doubt,

And feares no feare-full foes, nor rascall route;
He soonest is deceiu'd, and soonest harm'd:
For being set on, he is found vnarm'd.
When as the proude, set in ambitious throane,
Which by vnsurping haue obtain'd a crowne:
Are still in feare, neuer are left alone,
But are persu'd with dangers vp and downe,
Byting their lips for anger, then they frowne;
Bending their browes, thinking't a hellish thing,
They cannot liue as safe, as lawfull King.
But these I say like to a watchfull snake,
Neuer dare sleepe but with one open eye:
For euery doubt, doth make their sences quake,
And feare doth force them oft t'vse crueltie,
And still perseuer in their tyranie.
For euery bud which may but danger bring,
They nip it off when 't is in tender spring.
Thus feare at al times, armed is with force,
When sweet security, is still vnarm'd,
And tyrants seldome euer brooke remorse,
When they may gaine by others that are harm'd,
They care not who be colde, so they be warm'd.
And therefore England thou hast cause to grace,
Those Noble Peeres, which did this feare deface.
She hauing said, I look't, and turn'd me round,
When presently the voyce that spoke was gone:
I cal'd a Iury, and I guilty found
My selfe: which carelesly had left vndone,
Those worthy praises, which I ought t'haue done.

Vnto those worthyes, which proclaim'd my King:
Then tooke my Lute, and thus againe did sing.

A Sonnet.

All those which late were wrapt in woe,
With ioyfull hearts let them come sing:
Their passed griefe, and care let goe,
Let them reioyce they haue a King.
Let them say with one ioyfull heart,
Uertue, and wisedome shines in Court.
Let them giue praises to our Peeres,
Which thus haue sow'd their wisedomes skill:
Which haue abandon'd gastly feares,
And fram'd each thing euen to our will.
Let them I say with ioy and mirth,
Be gladsome of bright wisedomes birth.
Let them giue praise to pollicie,
Which did fore-cast what should betide:
And let them in their iollicie,
And in the prime of all their pride,
Giue chiefest praise to chiefest wit,
Let them annex iudgement to it.
Let them giue praise vnto the olde,
Whose grand experience makes them graue:
Whose noble vertues shine like golde,
Or sparkling Diamond glistring braue.
Let this be sung sans flatterie,
For't longs to our Nobilitie.

Long had I not thus prais'd my happie state,
When I was interrupted once againe;
I then grew angrie, cursing cruell fate,
Which would not let me make my pleasures plaine,
I lookt about with furious disdaine.
When I behelde (the voice) in angry wise,
Which crying said England thou art not wise.
Thou art as brutish now as beastly swine,
Which vnder the broad Beech eates vp her mast:
Yet to the top their eyes doe neu'r incline,
Looking from whence it falles; they eate so fast;
This similye before my eyes she cast.
England (saith she) giue but attentiue eare,
And in an other tune thou shalt me heare.

The third Canto in a differing verse.

Then grasping hard my conscience by the hand,
England (quoth she) tho'art now in happie case:
Thou hast a vertuous King t'gouerne thy land,
And grauest wisedome flowes in euerie place.
Thou dost reioyce and to them praises sing,
Yet dost forget the giuer of thy King.

Gods Sonne, his fathers glorious shine, who raignes
In statelie throne, earthes prop, heauens mightie stay;
Whome furies feare, and deuils in dragging chaines,
Whome men, and beastes, and Angels bright obay.
Twise borne, who as a Gyant tooke his race,
From heauen; was borne for thee, in stable base.
He laide in cribbe new borne thy state lamented
He wept for thee, yfram'd of lumpish clay;
His head, which earth and haughtie heauen inuented,
In stable vile on stonie pillow lay.
Thy King, heauens Queene, in homelie cloutes did holde,
Not wrapt in roabes be-wrought with wouen golde.
According to the law the Octane day,
His tender flesh with knife of stone was shred:
The auncient ryte, he would not disobay;
For thee with paine his purple bloud was shed.
He death of death, and conquerour of sinne,
Thy sauing health at first did thus beginne.
Through tyrants rage he could not rest in manger,
Ambition powred out a bloudie shower;
He fled through desarts wilde, a wandring stranger,
Exylde to, Ægipt in his tender flower.
From cribbe to caue he toyl'd to Nilus strand.
And thence with paine reiourn'd to Iewish land.
What did he heere? his parents he obayes;
He wept for thee, he watched night and day:
With eyes and hands to heauen vp-throwne he prayes
He sought no pompe, no rest, no earthlie sway.
His light, his life, his deedes did others teach,
Vntill such time as he must goe to preach.

Where is his home? where is a place of rest
Repos'd for him wherein to lay his head?
The little bird can frame a quiet nest,
The wylie Fox can haunt a resting stead.
From cribbe to crosse, whiles breath in him remaines,
He found no rest, but trouble, toyle and paines.
This King, thy priest, and Prince of happie peace,
Through Iewries land did trauell too and fro:
To cure both sicke and sore, he did not cease,
No raging storme could hinder him to go.
Where he might worke his fathers worthy will,
And with lifes foode might soule and body fill.
An Angels trumpe from heauen proclaim'd his name
Iesus, who came lost Adams impes to saue;
Whose wondrous actes deserues eternall fame,
He Lazarus reuiued from the graue.
Whose stincking coarse, and rotten carkas colde,
Foure daies and nights was couered in the molde.
What shall I speake of other dead, reuiued?
Or make rehearsall of such obiects sere?
Of blind and lame, of sence and sight depriued,
He made the dumbe to speake, and deafe to heare.
He, fowle infected soules from sinne did cure,
And vgly vlcer'd Leapers clensed pure.
When waltring waues, and windes would ouerthrow,
The shaking ships amid the Seas ytost:
He caus'd the sturdie stormes to stoope below,
And saued ships and men like to be lost.
He made the lame, in leaping beare his bed,
And with fiue loaues, two fish, fiue thousand fed.

He, water wan conuerted into wine,
He daunted deuills, and furies put to flight,
He for thy sake did let them strangle swine,
He taught all sorts of men to follow light.
His workes within no leaues can be enroul'd,
The ample world his wonders cannot hould.
Doe what he could, his actions did displease,
His worthy words incurred spotlesse blame:
No Angell tongue their malice could appease,
They forged crymes, and fained lyes did frame.
They mercilesse will kill their louing King,
Who came to shrow'd them vnder mercies wing.
Lost childe, hells slaue, Deuils guest, did him betray,
For thee, that Lambe was traterously solde:
The Ethnish doggs, and Iewes haule him away,
They whip him bound vnto a piller colde.
The mightie maule of death, diuell, hell and sinne,
By coined lyes, is falselie compast in.
His fathers wisedome, diuine truth is taken,
God and man, heauens lamp and glorious light,
Is of his owne deciples deare forsaken,
Is bound and led away as theefe by night,
He whipped is and beat, till from the crowne,
Tot'h ground red streames of blood distlled downe.
Stout Gedons Trumpets kept the dreadfull sound,
His brickle Lanthornes broken, shined bright:
But Christ his trumpe lay smothered in the ground,
The lamps of light and truth did lacke their light.
When Iewes their Maister bound away had led,
Th' Apostles into hollowe caues are fled.

Now Peters lofty vants and braggs are knowne,
That mightie mount is rent and shaken sunder:
A maidens voice the fact hath ouerthrowne,
A Cocks third cry proclaimes the rocke brought vnder.
That siluer bell hath lost it sounding tung,
Which, all abroad with praise the Gospell rung.
The Lambe of God to Pilats hall is brought,
His dome and iudgement, most vniust to haue:
Where fraud and false surmising witnes sought,
His worthy words by wresting to depraue.
They spit through spighte vpon his gracious face,
And they with blowes and buffets him disgrace.
When Diuels, hell snakes, foule fends and furyes fell,
Had fil'd blasphemous Iewes with poyson rancke,
Then they with spight, contempt and malice swell,
Within their hearts mischeuous vennome sancke.
They sound these bloody words in Pilats hall,
We craue, naile him on crosse before vs all.
They scoffe at him and laugh him vnto scorne,
And him as King in purple roabe array,
They spit, they spight and crowne his head with thorne,
In iesting wise on knees all hayle they say.
They force him also beare a heauie crosse,
Tot'h place where he redeemed Adams losse.
They hoyse him vp vpon a filthie mount,
On crosse both hand and foote they fixed sure:
Betwixt two theeues whose worse they him account,
Where he most bitter torments did endure,
If all the Martirs paines were put in one,
They all to this should be esteemed none.

He thirsting on the crosse mans soule to saue,
Did fainting seeme, to them for drinke to call:
They dreaming that indeed he drinke would haue,
In place thereof did proffer bitter gall.
Thus seru'd they him, who suffered for thy sake,
The Lord of all who heauen and earth did make.
When this was done he yeelded vp the Ghost,
His soule he to his father did commend:
He offred vp himselfe a sacred hoast,
And so his glorious passion made an end.
All this he did for thee, yet thou vnkinde,
Hast almost rac'd him quite out of thy minde.
When as the voice ended her long discourse,
She gaue me leaue a little for to pause:
Then hauing stood a while, quite out of course
Was euery thing and I the chiefest cause.
Nature quite out of course, to checke my course,
Neglect her worke, to worke in me remorse.
Then like a childe which hauing done amisse,
Doth trembling stand in feare of Maisters rod:
So did I then: and gladly seem'd to kisse
The very path where I might praise my God.
And as the childe doth wish the deed vndone,
So did I wish I had with him begun.
The voice which then did lately seeme to chide,
Did change her chaunt, and did new comforts bring:
Saying oh England thou hast time and tide,
As yet remaining for to praise heauens King
Take time by'th bush that growes vpon his brow
For that being past, thou canst not take him now.

And if thou slip'st him now, farewell my hope,
Thou shalt not haue occasion like to this;
Not (God knowes when) wherein will be such scope,
And cause of comfort, where nothing is amisse.
Hauing wisedomes wealth vertues florishing,
Which makes thee happy through thy graue wise King.
Therefore to God, which thus hath been thy stay.
All honour giue, praise him eternally:
With hands and heart vp-throwne see thou dost pray,
Giue tryple laude vnto his Maiestie.
Giue praise to God the giuer of thy King,
In glorying him, thou prayseth still thy King.
Then cease to praise, and pray an other space,
That God may graunt him long and happy daies:
And prosper all his vertues with his grace,
That all the world may testifie his praise.
And that hee'l send such wisedome from aboue,
That thou mayst him in dutie serue, hee thee in loue.
This hauing said, England (said she) adue,
Thinke on my words, be sure when I am gone:
Giue God the praise, and thou shalt neuer rue;
For all ensuing dangers comming on,
He of his mercie will keepe from thy King,
If thou to him dost onely glorie sing.
With that I heard cælestiall harmonie,
The voice departed straight into the ayre;
To heauen I thinke, for it was heauenlie,
Sweet of all sweets, and fayrest of all fayre.
Then I remembring what the voice had bod,
Sung these thankes-giuings to my liuing God.

A Song of thankes-giuing.

Gods name be glorifyed,
who with his heauenly might:
Hath bell, in chiefe and top of pride,
put to a shamefull flight.
Who sent his onely Sonne,
mans sinfull soule to saue:
Which heere on earth a race did run,
(to sinne) a seruing slaue.
All glory be to God,
which in my widdow-hood:
Sent me a husband and a King,
to cheere my sorrowing moode.
I humbly therefore pray,
with praises to thy name:
That be directly so may liue,
his deedes may merit fame.
Powre downe thy heauenly deawe,
guard him with giftes of grace:
And triple all his former yeares,
to guide his Princely Mace.
Place truth amongst his traine,
confound all traytrous mindes:
Amongst the commons plant true zeale,
to doe as dutie bindes.
And lastly on my knees,
I pray my heauenly God:
From worthy Iames and from his Realme,
to stay his wrathfull rod.
God saue King Iames.
FINIS.
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