University of Virginia Library

Methinkes I see you smile,
before you gin to reede,
At this same title of my Tale:
but, for you shall not neede,
To maruaile at the same.
First, read it to the ende,
And marke ye still, through all the tale,
wherto eche point dooth tend:
And you shall see I hope,
that this same title serues
Fit for this tale: els, sure my minde
from reason greatly swarues:
Who is expert in any Arte,
dooth beare a Maisters name:
Then he who cheefe is in an Art,
dooth well deserue the same.
Of Arte of lucklesse Loue,
first Fancie is the ground,
Although that Cupid, with his Dart,
doo giue the deadly wounde.
First, Fancie liking breedes,
and liking breedeth Loue,
And Loue thē breeds such passing pangs,
as many Louers prooue:
And when the troubled minde,
with torments is opprest,
Fancie dooth finde some secret meane,
to breede the hart some rest:
And Fancie, shee sometime,
to breede the Louers ioy,
A thousand sundrie wayes (at least)
dooth still her paines imploy:
She thinkes on this and that,
shee teacheth how to looue,
And tels the Louer what to doo,
as best for his behooue.
But least I go to farre,
and run too much at large
Out of the waye, and take no care
what thing I haue in charge:
I will begin to show,
what kinde of Schoole this is,
What orders too shee keepes therein.
First, lo the Schoole is this.
The roome bothe large and long,
and very darke of sight,
The most sight that her Schollers haue,
is chieflie by fier light:
Which fier dooth burne so bright,
as giues them light to see
To read such books, as there are taught:
but what this fier may bee,
Nowe thereby lyes a case.
Well marke what I doo wright,
And you shall know: for I my selfe,
haue seene it burning bright.
First, Fancie fetcheth coales,
and calles for Deepe desire:
By him shee setteth Vaine delight,
and biddes them blow the fire:
And when the fire once burnes,
for to maintaine the same,
The Colier Care, hee brings in coales
vnto this daintie Dame.
Hee makes his Coales of wood,
that growes on Haire braine hill:
The Groue is cald, the Thriftles thicke
of wilde and wanton will:
The wood is of small groth,
but stickes of Stubborne youth,
Which serues as fittest for that fier,
God wot, the greater ruthe:
Lo thus, this fier dooth burne,
and still dooth giue the light
To Fancies Schollers in her Schoole:
they haue none other sight:
Now, Sir, in this hot Schoole,
first Fancie highest sittes,
And out of all her Schollers still,
she takes the wildest wittes.
And those she takes in hands,
to teach the Art of loue:
Which being taught in that vain Art,
do soone fine schollers proue.
She teacheth them to mourne,
to flatter and to faine:
To speake, to write, and to indight,
to labor and take paine:
To go, to run, and ride,
to muse and to deuise:
To iuggle with a deerest freend,
to bleare the parents eyes:
To spend both landes and goods,
to venter Lim and life,
To make foes frends, and twixt deere frends,
to set debate & strife:
To doo, and vndoo too,
so that they may obtaine,
Their mistresse looue: and neuer care,
for taking any paine.
To iet in braue attire,
to please their Mistris eye:
Although perhaps they vtterly
vndoe themselues thereby.
To learne to singe and daunce,
to play on Instruments,
To speake choice of straunge languages,
to trie experiments
Straunge, seldome had in vse:
in fine, to tell you plaine,
To doo almoste they care not what,
their Ladies loue to gaine:
And thus in tract of time,
by such instructions,
Shee makes them tread, the perfect pathe
to their destructions:
Some other Schollers now,
are taught within her Schoole
By Vsshers that teach vnder her:
of which one is a foole
By nature and by name,
for Follie men him call;
And he will teach his Scholler soone,
to prooue a Naturall.
The second, Frenzie is,
in teaching too as bad:
For he will teach his Schollers most,
the way to make them mad:
The Vssher Follie first,
he teacheth to be bould,
Without aduice to giue no eare,
to counsaile that is tould:
To take delight in gauds,
and foolish trifling toyes,
In things of value, little worth,
to set his chiefest ioyes.
To prate without regarde,
of reason in his talke,
To think black white, and wrong for right,
& know not cheese frō chalke:
To loue the things in deede,
which moste he ought to hate:
For trifling toyes, with deerest freends,
to fall at dire debate:
To looue to play at Dice,
to sware his blood and hart,
To face it with a Ruffins looke,
and set his Hat a thwart.
To haunt the Tauernes late,
by night to trace the streetes,
And swap ech slut vpon the lippes,
that in the darke he meetes:
To laughe at a horse nest,
and whine too like a boy,
If any thing do crosse his minde,
though it be but a toy:
To slauer like a slaue,
to lie too like a Dog,
To wallow almost like a Beare,
and snortle like a Hog.
To feede too like a Horse,
to drinke too like an Oxe,
To shew himselfe in each respect,
a very very Coxe.
But such a Scholler now,
is chosen of grose wit,
Because that Beetle heads doo serue
for such instructions fit.
The other Usher now,
that Frenzie hath to name,
His kinde of teaching, hee againe,
another waye dooth frame:
Hee teacheth how to rage,
to sweare and ban and curse,
To fret, to fume, to chide, to chafe,
to doo all this and worse.
To teare his flesh for griefe,
to fill the aire with cryes,
To harbor hatred in his hart,
and mischiefe to deuise:
To hate all good aduice,
to follow witlesse will,
And, in the end, for want of grace,
to seeke himselfe to kill.
And sutch his Schollers are,
ripe wits, but wanting grace,
And sutch vngratious graffes, doo learne,
sutch gracelesse geare apace:
These Schollers all are young,
except that now and than,
To be a scholler with the rest,
there step in som ould man.
Who when that he a while,
hath bin in Fancie's Schoole,
Dooth learne in his olde crooked age,
to play the doting foole.
And such there are sometime,
(more pittie) for to see,
That in their crooked doting age,
would faine fine louers bee.
Which beeing in that Schoole,
doo prooue, for all their paine,
By Frenzie mad, by Folly fooles,
or els by Fancie vaine.
My selfe can tell too well,
for I haue seen the Schoole,
And learned so long there, till I prou'd
more halfe a very foole.
First, Fancie dandled me,
and held me on her lap:
And now and then, shee would me feede,
with worldly pleasures pap.
Shee tould mee, I was young,
and I my youth must spend
In youthfull sporte. I did not know,
how soone my life would end:
Be merry while I mought,
Set carke and care aside:
How mad were he, that mought in blisse,
and would in bale abide?
Such sugred speach of hers,
had soone intrapt mee so,
That I did thinke, that did me good,
that wrought (in deed) my wo:
Remayning thus a while,
at last I had an eye
To see how Folly taught his Youthes,
and some rules, by and by,
My selfe began to learne:
First this, for to be bould,
And to refuse to lend my eare,
where good aduise was tould.
In foolish trifling toyes
to take a great delight:
To take in hand to prate of that,
wherein I had no sight.
These rules I soone had learnd,
but when I came to that,
Where Ruffins card & dice, and sweare,
and ware aside their hat,
I read no farther then,
but up againe I went,
Unto my Mistrisse Fancie fine:
and straight downe shee me sent,
Unto the nether ende
of all her Schoole below,
Where Frenzie sat: and sweating hard,
he gan to puffe and blow.
He little likte my minde,
yet would I ye or no,
I learnd some of his raging rules,
ere I away did go:
I learnd to fret and fume,
though not to ban and curse,
And oft for griefe, to sigh and sob,
and many times doo worse:
But yet, I thanke my God,
I neuer had the will,
In greatest franticke fit I felt,
to seeke my selfe to kill.
But to make short my tale,
his lessons likte me not,
But up againe in haste I went,
to Fancie fond, God wot.
And lying in her lap,
I fell a sleepe anon:
Where sleeping so, I dreamed sore
that I was wo begon:

Me thought that wisdome came,
and warned mee in hast,
To lothe sutch lessons as I learnd,
ere that my youth were past.
For short should be my sweet,
and time would passe away:
The man is in his graue too day
that liued yesterday:
Thy life (quod hee) poore soule,
is like vnto a flower,
That groweth but in daunger still
of cropping euery hower:
And if it be not cropt,
yet soone it will decay,
And like the flower, in little time,
it wither will away.
Thy pleasures wilbe paine,
thy game will turne to greefe,
And thou wilt seeke in vaine to late,
when yu wouldst finde releef:
Arise thou sluggish slaue,
out of that lothsome lap,
And be no longer like a Babe,
so fed with pleasures pap.
Lose no more labor so,
in sutch a witles Schoole,
Where as the best that thou canst gaine,
is but to prooue a foole.
Study some better Art,
for lo thy wits will serue
To learne to doo, that may in time,
a good reward deserue:
Better then best degree,
that thou art like to take
In Fancies schoole: I tell thee plaine,
therefore I say, awake,
Awake, in haste, awake,
and hie thee hence, I say:
Take warning in good time, poore soule,
for time will sone away:
But since that with such Youthes,
words seldome will preuaile,
With this same rod, thou foolish boy,
I meane to breech thy taile.
With which (me thought) he gaue
a ierke, that made me smart:
Which soden smart, although but small,
yet made me give a start:
And in my starting so,
I waked sodenly;
And so awakte, I cald to minde
my vision by and by.
Thus thinking on my dreame,
I heauy grew in minde,
Which by and by, when Fancie fond,
gan by my countenāce finde:
How now, my youth (quoth she)
what ailes thee seeme so sad?
What cāst thou think to cheare thy minde,
but that it shalbe had?
No, no, (quoth I) I not
beleeue these woords of thine.
Thou sausy slaue (quoth she) darest yu
mistrust these words of mine?
And, therewith in a rage,
Shee threwe me from her lap,
And with the fall, be shrew her hart,
I caught a cruell clap:
Wherwith, sumthing displeasd,
Why fine Mistris (quoth I)
What can you bide no iest? alas,—
And therwith, angerly,
Without or taking leaue,
or any duty done,
From Fancie in a rage I flong,
and out of dores I ronne:
And beyng out of doore,
these wordes me thought I said,
Fie on thee FANCIE, flatteryng flyrt,
I hold me wel apaide:
That I am got away,
out of thy skyllesse Scoole:
For now I see, thou wentst about
to make mee a right foole:
But now, that I am out,
by grace of God, I sweare,
While I doo liue, if I can choose,
neuer more to come there.
But Fancie, hearing this,
to make mee styll to stay,
To fetche mee in with pleasant sportes
inuented many a way:
But when I dyd perceiue
how neere mee still she came,
Then from her quite I floong in haste,
and so I left this Dame.
Loe, thus I tell you how,
I came from Fancies Scoole:
Where, learnyng but a little while,
I proou'd more halfe a foole:
Wherfore, since my good hap,
hath ben to come from thence,
Although with labour lost, in deede,
and some, too mutch expence:
I now haue thought it good,
to warne eche one my frende,
To keepe themselues from Fancies Schoole,
& so I make an ende.