University of Virginia Library

As FANCIE hath a SCOOLE,
so hath she too a FORT,
Of which, the chiefest points, my selfe,
wyll somwhat make report.
The ground wheron it stands,
and the foundation then:
How it is built, how it is kept,
and by what kynde of men:
What kinde of cheere she keepes,
who are her chiefest gesse:
What drink she drinks, who ar her cookes
yt al her meat do dres:
Whom most she loues, who is her foe,
& who againe her frend,
And how the Fort may soone be scald,
& ther to make an ende.

THE FORTE OF FANCIE.

The ground wheron it stands,
is haughtie Harebraine Hyll,
Hard by the Thick I tould you, of
wild and wanton will.
The fond Foundation is,
false Fortunes fickle wheele,
Which neuer stands, but stil eche way,
is ready for to reele:
Now here, now there againe,
with euerie blaste of winde:
Not as she list, but as it most
doth please Dame Fortunes mind.
The House it selfe is calde,
The Lodge of luckelesse Loue;
Within the whiche are diuers roumes,
beneath and eke aboue:
The names wherof anon,
I meane at large to showe:
But first, the outside of this House,
I must declare, I trow:
The commyng to the same,
the walles, the Gates, and then,
The base courts, courts & gardens
then, & then the gards of men:
The Porters to the Doores,
the Officers within:
And therefore, thus in order,
I wyll now my tale begyn.

The commyng to the same,
is by a great hie way,
Faire beaten plaine, with Fooles footsteps,
and troden euerie day:
The Soyle is pleasant sure,
bedeckt with gallant flowers,
But, being gatherd once, wil scarce
bide sweet aboue two houres:
And in this Soyle, there standes,
a Forrest large and wide,
Which is wel stoard wt thicks & woods,
the beasts therin to hide:
Of which great peece of grounde,
for to declare the name,
The Forrest (Sir) of Fooles it is:
loe, now you know the same:
And in this Forrest now,
this beaten way doth lie,
Which leadeth unto Harebraine Hyll,
the right way redyly.
At foote of this same Hyll,
and round about the same,
There is a Ditche, which Deepe
deceipt is calde by name:
Ouer this lies a Bridge,
but trust mee, verie weake:
For when you are in midst therof,
then sodenly twyll breake:
And downe into the diche,
of Deepe deceipt you fall:
Rise againe, as you can your selfe,
you get small helps at all:
The Bridge is calde, the breache
of perfect amytie:
Tis made of Hollow harts,
of such as wanted honestie:
Which, being rotten styll,
wyll neuer beare the waight
Of any man, but sodenly,
downe casts hym in Deceight:
Now sir, although you fall,
no bones shall yet be burst,
Nor what so euer hurt you take,
you feele it not at furst:
But beyng falne, if you
can make a shift to swym,
Though it be but a stroake or two,
yet may you get up trym,
Unto the bankes therof,
and so by shrubs that growe
Upon the bankes, to make a shift,
vp to the gate to goe:
But if you can not swym,
you may catch such a fall,
That you may chaunce, vnto your cost,
to catch a bruse withall:
Not swimming as in Seas,
for feare in deepe to drowne,
But swimming sir, in Worldly wealth,
for feare of fallyng downe.
But if that you can swym,
then soone perhappes you may,
By shrubs and bushes, to the Gates
make shift to finde a way.
Then beeing at the gates,
there shall you standing finde
A peltikg patch for Porter there,
of nature very kinde:
His name is Daliance:
a foolish crafty knaue,
Who needeth not, to let you in,
too much intreatie haue.
Welcome, good Sir (saith he)
now trust me, by my fay,
I thinke that you have trauailed
a wery peece of way:
Wilt please you to go in,
and take a little rest?
Thus by the Porter Daliance,
you go in as a guest.
Now if up to the gate
you cannot finde the way,
Then lustely to scale the walles
you must somewhat assay:
Which walles you soone may scale,
if you will take the paine,
Or els may quickly beat them downe
with beetel of your braine:
Few are to make defence,
and such as are, will stay
Their hands from dooing harm to you,
but rather, make you way.
And shall I show in kinde,
what gallants you shall see?
That for to garde this Forte are set,
and what their weapons bee?
It were a sporte to tell,
to set them out in kinde:
Well, I wyll showe them all, as well
as I can beare in minde:
First, loe, a Garde of Geese
and Ganders, in one rancke,
With doutie Duckes and Drakes hard by,
vpon an other bancke:
A sight of Asses then,
there stoode in Battell ray,
With Iackeanapeses on their backes:
and they stoode in the way
That leades into the Court:
further you can not passe,
Except you let a Iackeanapes,
to ride you lyke an Asse.
But if you wyll do so,
then may you passe vp straight,
Into th'inner Court (forsooth)
where long you shall not waight,
But out vnto the doore,
comes out an officer,
And gently (Sir) into the Hall,
this man wyll you preferre:
But now sir, wyll you know,
what meanes these Armies so,
That standes to gard Dame Fancies Fort?
well marke, & you shal know.
The Gard of Geese are first,
Vngratious Graftes of Youth,
That wallow euery wanton way,
and misse the trackt of trueth.
The Duckes (good Syr) are Doults,
as well both yong as olde,
That in that carelesse Court are set,
to keepe a foolysh holde.
The Asses they are Loutes,
of wisdome none at all:
Yet haue a certaine kinde of wit,
to play the fooles withall.
The Apes, that rides them now,
and rules them euerie way,
& turne their heads which way they list,
a thousand times a day,
Are Foolysh Apish toyes,
fond heads for to delite:
Not voide of reason vtterly,
though voide of wisdome quite.
Their Weapons are their Tongues,
wherewith they make a crye,
Away, I say, away, stand backe,
soft Syr, you come not by:
But if so bee they see,
one ridden like an Asse,
Then will they make but small a doo,
but let him gently passe.
Now Syr, thus like an Asse,
he goes to the Hall doore,
And there becomes a Man againe,
and stands an Asse no more:
Yet though his eares grow short,
he is not altered so,
But he shall beare an Asses head,
where euer so he go.
And be he Man or Asse,
Jacke an apes hee must beare,
As long as hee is in that Forte,
or els he bides not there.
Now Syr, at the Hall dore,
the Porter Pleasure standes:
He looks for, ere he farther go,
some money at his hands.
He lets in none for thankes,
he must haue money, hee:
He goes not in els, I am sure,
for so hee delt with mee.
But if hee him rewarde,
he brings him to the Hall,
And there the Vsher, by and by,
good Syr, hee meetes withall.
Hee entertaines you then,
in such a pleasaunt wise,
As makes you thinke you are arriude,
in place of Paradise.
Not long he bides with you,
but to the Chamberlaine
Hee brings you vp, where curiously
hee dooth you entertaine
With Bezoles manos,
imbrasings downe to knee:
With Cap of curtesie: and a grace,
the brauest that may bee.
This is a gentle youth,
but ere I farther go,
The names of these same Officers,
I plainely meane to show:
The Vsher of the Hall,
is called Vaine delight:
Hee entertaineth none, except
he be some witlesst wight.
The Chamberlaine is
called Curiositie,
And fellow with this Vaine delight,
and of affinitie:
For at request of this,
his fellow, Fond delight,
Hee brings you where of Fancie faire,
you soone may haue a sight:
And if you like him well,
hee workes so in the ende,
That hee will in your sute, foorthwith,
cause Fancie stande your freend.
To Fancie then, good Sir,
he brings you, by and by,
And there may you beholde her, how
she sitteth gallantlie:
Her Chamber large and long,
bedect with thousand toyes:
Braue hanging clothes of rare deuise,
pictures of naked boyes,
And Girles too, now and then,
of sixeteene yeeres of age:
That will within a yeare or two,
grow fit for mariage.
But they must haue a Lawne,
a Scarfe, or some sutch toy,
To shrowde their shamefastnes withall:
but if it be a boy,
Hee standes without a Lawne,
as naked as my naile:
For Fancie hath a sporte sumtime,
to see a naked taile.
Besides, in pictures too,
and toyes of straung deuise,
With stories of olde Robin Hood,
and Walter little wise:
Some showes of warre long since,
and Captaines wounded sore,
And souldiers slaine at one conflict,
a thousand men and more:
Of hunting of wilde Beastes,
as Lions, Bores, and Beares:
To see how one an other oft,
in sunder straungely teares.
Of gallant Citties, Townes:
of Gardens, Flowers, and trees:
Of choise of pleasant herbs, and fruits,
and such like toies as these:
These hange aboute the walles,
the floore now is troade
With pleasant flowers, herbs, & sweets.
which in her gardē grode.
But now, the names of them,
I purpose to descrie:
In steede of Fenell, Syr,
the first is Flatterie,
The other Herbe is Sawsinesse,
in steede of Sauourie:
In steede of Basell, now
there lyeth Brauerie:
And for sweete Southernwood, againe,
is secret Slauerie:
In steede of Isop, now,
there lies Inuention:
And in the steede of Camamill,
there lies Confusion:
The Flowers now are these:
in steede of Iylliflowers,
Fayre Iestes: that last not sweete, alas,
aboue two or three houres.
For Roses, Rages: which
wyll not so soone decay:
For Paunseies, pretie Practises,
that alter many a way:
For Marygoldes, Mischiefe:
for Walflowers, Wantonnesse:
For Pinckes, Presumption:
for Buttons, Businesse:
For Daysies, Doubtfulnesse:
for Violets, Viciousnesse:
For Primroses, Foolysh Pride:
for Cowslips, Carelesnesse:
With these flowers and Herbes,
with many moe (God wot)
Doth Fancie strow her Chamber floore,
whiche I remember not.
Now Syr, in this same roome,
thus brauely bedect,
Syts Fancie in her brauerie:
and Syr, in eache respect,
So serued in her kinde,
with her fine Chamberlayne,
That not for any thyng she hath,
that she needes to take payne.
Fine Curiositie,
her Chamberlaine, doth all
The seruice in her Chamber, Syr:
but the Vsher in the Hall
He doth her seruice too,
although not all so neere
Her person, as her Chamberlayne:
she houldeth him more deere.
The order how she sittes,
is this Syr, in a Chayre,
Fine carued out with Caruers worke,
and couerd, verie faire,
With a strange kind of stuffe:
the colour is all green:
Braue fringde and hang'd, with two fine Pearles,
the like but seldom seen:
Now Syr, her Chayre (in deede)
is but a Youthfull brayne,
Whose head is verie greene, in deed:
the Frindge, to tell you plaine,
Are Haires upon the head:
the Pearles, they are the Eyes:
Fast set vnto the head (good Syr,)
and loe, thus in this wise,
I shewe you Fancies seat:
but if the eyes dyd see,
What great dishonour tis to them,
in Fancies Chaire to bee:
They rather would fall off,
then hang in such a place,
Where they are ruld, when they mought rule,
and so to gayne disgrace.
But be they as they be,
I shewe you as they be:
Beleeue me, when that you come there,
then you your self shall see.
Well Sir, thus Fancie sits,
before whom you must stand,
Tyll she her selfe do bid you come,
and take you by the hande:
And that she soone wyll doo,
for she is curteous;
And where she takes a likyng too,
she is as amorous.
Now, beyng come to you,
these wordes first she wyll say,
She wyll be askyng, how at first,
you thither found the way?
Wherto, your Answere made,
then she wyll take the payne,
To shewe you all her roomes within,
and shee wyll entertayne
You in so braue a sorte,
that you shall thinke, a while,
You are in heauen: with sugred speeche
she wyll you so beguile.
Now, first, she leades you in,
into her Garden gay:
She shews you flowers, but tels you not,
how soone they wil decay:
Shee telles you this braue tree,
a gallant fruict wyll beare,
This is a gallant Princely Plum,
and this as braue a Peare:
This is a Pippyn right,
this is a Philbeard fine,
This is a Damson delicate:
but fewe suche fruictes as mine:
When God, he knowes, the Tree
whose fruictes she bragges on so,
Is but a plant of peeuishnes,
and brynges foorth fruits of woe.
Her Plum is but a Pate,
that puffed is with pryde:
Which eyther quickly rotten growes,
or breakes out on som side:
Her Peare is an olde plant,
that bringeth Outwarde ioye
To sight, at least: but, eaten once,
wyll choake you with annoy.
Her Pippyn is a Crabbe,
that growes in Sainct Iohns wood:
Which makes a shewe of a faire fruict,
but in taste is not good.
This is a secreate foe,
that seemes a faythfull frende,
But wyll be sure, who trust in him,
to faile hym in the ende.
Her Fylberds haue faire shales,
but Kernelles all are gone,
Her Damsons are deceiptfull fruicts,
as hard as any stone:
Harde: how?—not hard in hand,
nor very hard in taste,
But beyng swallowd, very hard
for to digest at last.
These Trees, with many mo
which I not call to mynde,
In Fancies gallant Garden plot
you shalbe sure to finde.
Now in this Gardein, more
alas, I had forgot:
About the midst therof (I gesse)
there standes a prety plot,
Wherin is made a Maze,
all bordered with Wilde breere,
Set all about the bankes with Rue,
that grew there many a yere.
Just in the midst wherof,
a huge high Mount dooth stand,
Which grew by nature in yt place,
not made by Gardeners hand:
The hill on the one side,
is made much lyke a Hart,
And as like to a Hed againe
vpon the other part.
And in this Mount, there dwels
a number of mad men:
Some mad in hart and some in hed,
and euery one his den.
Upon the Hart side, stands
the cave of crueltie,
A currish knaue, which with his teeth,
still gnashing, close doth lie.
By him hath foule Despight
a fylthy Den lykewise,
Which, in that lothsome lodge of his,
Still fretting, dayly lyes.
By him horrible Hate,
hath eke a kinde of Caue,
Like a foule hole: but good inough
for such a filthy slaue:
Upon the hedside now,
lies Melancoly first,
Hee beates his head with studie so,
as if his braines would burst.
By him vile Enuy next,
foule fiend, with fierie eyes,
Bound about hed wt Serpent skinnes,
in lothsome manner lies.
Right ouer him dooth keepe
fierce Frenzie, in his caue:
Hee frets, hee fumes, he stampes and stares,
& neuer lins to raue.
Aboue them all, vpon
the top of this same hill,
Dwels Madnes, Maister of them all,
and with him, witles Will:
His lodge is like a house,
that had bin built of stone,
That had bin ouerthrowne, & nought
left but the walles alone:
It hath a kinde of roofe,
but all vncouered:
So that the raine vpon him falles,
as hee lies in his bed:
And for the manner now
how he lies, credit mee,
It is the straungest sight mee thinkes,
that euer I did see.
His Bedsteed is of Wood,
ingrauen with Vgly faces:
And standes more halfe a sunder, burst
in twenty sundry places:
His Bed with fethers stuft,
but all the Downe flowne out:
And those yt bide, are stubborne quilles,
yt prick him round about.
Upon an olde crackt Forme,
by his Bedside, there lies
Ould instruments of Musicks sound,
all broke in wondrous wise.
A Lute, with but thre strings,
and all the pinnes neere out:
The belly crakt, the back quite burst,
and riuen round about.
His Virginals, with neuer a iack,
and [but] halfe the keyes:
His Organes, with the bellowes burst,
and battred many waies.
His Fife, three holes in one:
his Harpe, with neare a string:
Great pittie, trust me, for to see,
so broken euery thing.
A Pen and Inke he hath,
and Paper too hard by,
But paper quite in peeces torne,
pen burst, and Inkhorne drie.
He feedes of Fancies fruites,
that in her Garden growe,
He drinks of Drugs of foule Despight,
a beastly broth I trow.
He feares no heat nor colde,
for if with heate he glow,
The waues of wo wil coole him streight,
yt there by tides do flow.
For through this Forrest runnes,
the Seas of sorrow sore:
Whose Waues do beate against this Fort,
that bordereth on the shore.
And if with colde he quake,
the heate of raging ire
Will quickly warme him so, that he
shall neede none other fire.
In raging Frantick fittes,
he passeth foorth the day
In straunge perplexities, himselfe
tormenting many a way.
Among many mad toyes,
I saw him play one parte,
With looke full fierce I saw him holde,
a Dagger to his Hart,
Redie to kill himselfe.
and with his heare vpright,
He cryed, he would rather die,
then bide sutche deepe dispight:
At which same crie of his,
me thought that euery one
Within their Caues, all sodeinly
did make a piteous mone:
With which amazed halfe,
not knowing what to say,
By helpe of God, I know not how,
but straight I got away.
And then I was againe
with Fancie, by and by,
Out of the Maze in her Gardeine:
who led me presently,
As she will you likewise,
if you will: backe againe
Into her house: where you will thinke
in heauen for to remaine.
The Entrie first, before
you come vnto the Hall,
Is set out gallantly with toyes,
and that of cost not small.
The Pauements are of stone,
which Hard harts haue to name:
They grow all in a minde of man,
and thence she hath the same:
About the Entrie walles,
doo hang devises straunge:
And, by the brauerie of the same,
much like the Low Exchange.
From Entrie then you come
streight way vnto the Hall;
And that with manie Jewels riche
is hanged round withall.
The roome it selfe is long,
and therewith somewhat wide,
And for the fashion, in my minde,
not much unlike Cheapeside:
There hang great store of gaudes,
of which the Vsher straight,
Dooth offer to Dame Fancies eie.
and therfore there dooth waight,
Chaines, Jewels, Cups, & pots:
Pearles, precious stones, & Rings,
Fine whistels, Corals, Buttons, Beads,
& such like costly things:
Fine Brooches for your Hat,
fine Aglets for your Cap,
Fine Tablets for a gallant Dame,
to hang before her lap.
These things, with many mo,
in this same Cheapeside Hall,
Hath Vaine delight, to please Fancie,
his Mistris minde withall.
Now though she see them all,
her Chamberlain must chuse
What he best thinkes will like her minde,
& what she wil refuse.
That Chamberlaine (you know)
is Curiositie:
He euer chooseth all the ware,
that Fancie fond dooth buye.
Now from the Hall, vnto
the Parlor straight you go,
Which, as the Hall, with Jewels riche,
is brauely hanged so:
The roome is long, not large,
I met it not with feete:
But, as I gesse, in fashion tis,
much like to Lombarde streete:
This roome the Vsher too,
dooth looke too, with the Hall:
Well, there within a little while
you quickly will see all:
Which, beeing seene, you passe
into the other roome,
Which called is her Counting house:
wherin when you be come,
There shall you see her bookes,
that treates of many toyes,
And most of them doo show the cause
of louers greefes or ioyes.
Some volumes Syr, doo treate
of naught but Vanitate,
But very few that speakes a worde
of perfect Sanitate.
Some auncient Authors write
De arte amandi:
Which who so studies throughly,
runs mad or ere he die:
And, in the steede of Tullies workes,
written De officijs,
There standes Tom tatlers treatise, Syr,
De fine Brandicijs:
Among the rest are some,
Belle discorce d'amore,
And some doo write discourses
De graundissimo dolore:
Some bookes doo make discourse
of Pride and Foule disdaine,
Some letters Amatorie are:
some of Despite againe.
Some Pretie Pamphlets are,
some Posies, Satirs some:
Some doo discourse of Falconrie,
and some of Day of Doome;
And they are called Drummes:
and some tell pretie tales
Of Lapwings, Swallowes, Fesant cocks,
& noble Nightingales:
Some Songes and Sonets are,
and some are Louers layes:
Some Poets paint The pangs of loue,
a thousand sundry waies.
Now with such bookes as these,
with other such like toyes,
Dooth Fancie store her Counting house,
for to instruct her boyes,
And girles too, now and than:
at least, if they doo reede:
And in such vaine Discourses, most
her selfe delights indeede.
Now Syr, when you haue seene
her fine Librarie there:
She shewes you then her other roomes,
& leades you euery where.
But sure her Counting house,
of all that ere I see,
Is built as like to Poules Church yarde,
as euer it may bee.
Now next she leades you too
her Wardrope of fine cloth,
Of diuers kindes of colours Syr:
what, laugh you Syr, of trothe?
Beleeue mee, when that you
to Fancies Forte doo go:
And if you come into her Courte,
then you shall finde it so.
The colours of her cloath
are faire and verie gay:
White, red, blewe, greene, Cernation,
Yelow and Popyniay:
Of blackes, but very few:
but other colours store
Of mingled colours, or suche as
I tolde you of before:
Now, she that keepes that roume
is a yonge pleasant Dame,
And Wantonnesse I trow it be,
that Fancie calles her name:
Nowe Wantonnesse againe,
shee keepes a pretie knaue,
That euery day deviseth styll,
newe fashions for to haue.
He hath a knauish head,
fine knackes for to inuent,
Wherof good stoare of cloathe, in haste,
in fashions may be spent:
In gardes, in weltes, and iagges,
in laying cloath upon cloath:
And this same youth a Tailor is,
for men and women bothe.
His name is Fond deuise:
he came of Apish race:
A man, for such a mistris meete,
and fit for such a place:
But for Dame Fancie fine,
no garments Syr, he makes:
But first the view her Chamberlaine
Curiositie takes:
And if he like it well,
then will she stand content:
If not, his labour all is lost,
and cost in vaine is spent.
Now this same Wardrop Syr,
is likest, in my minde,
To Watling streete, of any place,
that euer I could finde.
Now Syr, from thence you come:
when you haue seene all there,
You go into her Gallarie,
a roome that I dare sweare,
The like is seldome seene
for gallant setting out:
If one should trauaile euerie day,
almost the world about,
For choice of Gallant stuffe,
and fine deuises strainge:
No place so like, that ere I see,
as is The high Exchange:
Such purses, gloues, and pointes,
of cost and fashion rare,
Such cutworks, partlets, sutes of lawne,
bongraces, & such ware:
Such gorgets, sleeues, and ruffes,
linings for gownes, and calles,
Coiffes, crippins, cornets, billaments,
muske boxes & sweet balles,
Pincases, picktoothes, bearde brushes,
comes, needels, glasses, belles,
And manie such like toies as these:
that Gaine to Fancie sels.
But yet, of all these toyes,
not one will Fancie buye,
Except they first be looked on
by Curiositie:
But Follie, manie times,
standes at his elbow so,
That makes him choose the worse sometime,
and let the better go:
Well, there not longe you bide,
but downe you come againe
Into the Hall beneath good Syr,
where longe you not remaine:
But to the Kitchin streight,
she forthwith leadeth thee:
Where, how she dresseth all her meate,
the order thou shalt see.
And what kinde cookes she hath,
and how they make their fyre
To roast, to seeth, to broile, to bake,
and what you will desire:
The roome is narow syr,
in which a Harth, all bare,
On which the Cook powers on his coales,
& kindels thē with care:
Then layes he to the Spit,
if any meate be roast:
And if the fyre be once a flame,
then it beginnes to toast.
The meate that most he roastes,
for Fancies daintie toothe,
Are Partridges, larkes, plouers greene,
& such fine foule (for sooth).
The Coles are made of stickes,
of stuborne youth (God wot)
Which kindle quicklie of themselues,
and blowing needeth not:
The kinde of woode is Will,
drie, without Sapience sappe:
The lobcoke Lust, from thriftlesse thick,
both bring thē in his lap:
Which wood with lying still,
is growne so verie drie,
That with a Sparke of Sporte, alasse,
they kindle, by and by.
The Cooke is Carelesse calde:
the fowles he roastes, are these:
For Larks, are looks; for Plouers, thoughts:
for Partridge, Practises:
The Larkes are Lookes:
which when they liue, doe flie:
But beeing stroken dead, they serue
for Fancie, by and by:
The Partridge, Practises:
which, liuing, seeme so good,
That they are put vnto the fyre
to serue for Fancies foode:
For as the Partridge keepes
her selfe close to the grounde,
Because, by colour of her coate,
she may not so be founde:
So Practises, that shift,
to keepe themselues vnseene,
Are Foules most fit for Fancies tooth:
and now, for Plouers greene,
Greene thoughts, that flie about:
now here, now there againe:
But if, by chaunce, by Cupids dart,
they hap for to be slaine.
Then lying but a while,
at this same flaming fire,
They make in deede a meate, that most
fond Fancie doth desire.
Now hauing seene all this,
then shall you see, hard by,
The Pastrie, Mealehouse, and the roome,
wheras the Coales do ly:
The Coalehouse is a Caue
of care and miserie:
The Pastrie, is a Place
of open patcherie:
The Mealehouse, is a Place,
with set mischiefe fraught,
For sure, the meale is made of corne,
yt is much worse then naught.
The Corne is called Rye:
and diuers kindes there bee
Of this same Rye: as you your self,
when you are there shall see.
For there is one kinde Rye,
is called Knauerie:
Another, Flatterie,
with Tretcherie, and Patcherie:
An other Trumperie,
an other Mockerie,
And Baudrie too: and yet the best
is but a kinde of Rye,
Wherof the Meale is made,
that maketh Fancies bread:
And that is baked in the braine,
of a hot foolysh head:
The Graine is sowne by sundrie slaues:
of which one, Beastlinesse,
The other Secrete sawcinesse:
another Trayterousnesse:
An other Peeuishnesse,
and another Wilfulnesse,
With Lowtishnesse, and many moe,
which I can not expresse:
And reaped by suche slaues,
to Fancie, slaues, in deede,
Which bring the Corne into the Barne
of Beggerie, with speede:
They now, that thresh the Corne
are two stronge sturdie knaues,
Who haue great beetles in their hands,
in steed of thrasshing staues:
Of whome to tell the names:
first, Lobcocke, little wit,
And wayward Wyl: a good tūgh knaue:
he stands, his fellowes sit:
They with their Beetels in
their hands, or heades, at least,
Doo make it readie for the Myll:
then he that grindes the griest,
Is Many better sir,
an arrant craftie knaue:
Who, with his toulyng, wyll be sure,
a good round gaine to haue.
Now sir, this Myll doth stand,
vpon an Hyll on hie,
Whose Sayles are driuen by blastes of winde,
& so grind merely:
Now Syr, the Corne thus grounde:
to Fancies Fort, streight way,
The Myller coms, and in the house,
there down his Meale doth lay:
Now Syr, when you haue ben
in all those Offices,
And that at Fancies handes, you finde
suche loue and gentlenesse,
To shewe you all her House:
but soft, I had forgot
To speake of her Bedchamber fine,
which now sir, I wyll not
Let slippe, for any thing:
the Roome it selfe is rounde,
And in the night dooth stand hir Bed,
with Curtens brauely boūd.
The Walles hangde all with Hope,
on thone side verie faire:
Vpon the other side againe,
darke hangings of dispaire.
Strange pictures by hir Bed:
on thone side, fittes of greefe,
On thother side, to euerie pange,
a present sweete releefe.
Upon the one side, sweete accorde,
on thother Dire debate,
Vpon the one side, Naked loue:
on thother, Couerd hate.
On thone side, Prodigies,
with pleasaunt Dames in ioye,
On thother side, Chauing Peascods:
in greefe and great annoye.
These diuers contraries,
with many thousands mo,
When Fancie gazeth on a while,
she is amazed so,
That musing so a while,
she slumbreth at the last,
And beeing in a slumber so,
she sleepeth, but not fast:
Her Bed is all of Downe,
whereon she lies so soft,
As any Ladie in this land:
and at her Bed a loft,
Are written in faire hande,
and easie for to reede:
(Although I seeme a louelie dame,
I lothsome am in deede)
This solempne sentence,
Who euer so dooth see,
And dooth consider the contents,
will neuer like of me.
Her Bed is thus bedeckte:
the Curteynes are of Saye,
Not greene, nor yealow, red nor blew,
nor white, nor popiniaye:
No Silke, nor Cruel Saye:
what then may be the same?
This Say is calde, saye for thy selfe:
lo, nowe you know the name.
Her Couering, Curious cost:
her Blankets, Louers blisse:
Her Sheets are Shifts: to shroud her selfe.
her quilts, are quidities:
Her Pillowes, they are Points:
that Louers leane vpon.
Her Bolster, is a Beggar's Bagge:
when coine and goods are gone.
Her Bed she lyes vpon,
is a yonge Mellowe braine:
Where Fancie softlie lyes and sleepes,
and neuer feeleth paine.
And of such Beds, she hath
such stoare of choise (by roode)
That (if so be) she like not one,
an other is as good.
Of which, some are so softe,
that she dooth like them so,
That with her lying in them long,
they more halfe rotten growe:
And if they be not turned,
or ere they go to farre,
In time, both braine, and head, and al
she wilbe sure to marre.
Thus shall you see her Bed
and Chamber, brauely deckte:
And euery roome within her house,
set out in each respect,
So gallantlie: that as
I saide, I saye againe,
You sure will thinke (at first) a while,
in heauen for to remaine.
Thus, when that Fancie fine,
hath led you rounde about
Her statelie house, in everie roome:
then shall you see a loute,
Come with a napkin fine,
about his body bound,
Into the chamber, there where first
Dame Fancie fine you found:
He comes to laye a cloth,
vpon Dame Fancies boorde:
And then to bringe in all her cates:
and trust me (at a worde)
It is so strange a sighte,
to see her seruéd so,
As I shall neuer see the like,
where euer so I go.
Her Table is a Forme,
that stands without a frame,
And none but she and her compeeres,
can sit vpon the same:
Her Stooles, stande without feete,
I cannot shew you how,
Though I haue seene them (credite me)
I haue forgot them now.
But you shall see them there,
if thither you will go.
Now sir, when you are there,
and see this order soo,
Then unto Dinner straight,
she goeth by and by:
There shall you see her fine Compeeres,
that beare her companie.
First, vpper most she sittes,
in a great maiestie:
Then sits there downe by her, a Dame
called Ladie vanitie.
Then downe sits her Compeeres,
Follie and Frenzie both:
Such companie, as for to keepe,
a wiseman would be lothe.
Her Waitors at her borde,
are Curiositie,
Her Chamberlaine; and next to him
stands Carefulnesse hard by:
The Cooke that drest the meate:
then Nodcoke naturall,
Then Iacke-an-apes and busie Bee,
worst manered of them all:
Thus furnisht is this boorde,
with waitors in such sorte:
The meates whereof she feedeth most,
I neede not make report:
I spake of them before:
but for her kinde of drinke,
No beere, nor ale, nor wine it is:
and what then doo you thinke?
It is a drinke composde,
of drugges of diuers sortes,
Discourtesie, Disdaine, Dispigh:
and mingled with Disportes,
Sappe of faire Semblaunce,
with secret Simulation.
With Ioice of herbes of hollow hartes.
and faithfull protestation:
These Drugges, with many mo,
puts Fancie in her drinke:
Which though they sumwhat please the tast,
yet make the bosom stinke:
And workes so in their heads,
that are not used theretoo,
That maks them more half mad: for greif,
they know not what to do.
Now syr, this is her drinke:
her meate before you know:
Her servaunts I haue showne you too,
that do attend her so.
Now Syr, when you haue fed,
of Fancies fare one day:
I doo beleeue that you will wishe,
your selfe, next day away.
I promise you (of troth)
I did when I was there:
And I would not be there againe,
for twentie pound, I sweare.
And more then wishing too,
at borde aloude I cride:
I would I were away, this fare,
I cannot I abide.
Which when that Fancie sawe,
she tooke me from the boorde,
And thrust me out of dores in haste,
not speaking any worde.
And flonge me downe the steares,
wherewith I caught a fall,
That greeued me sore: but yet (me thought)
I stood cōtent withal.
The vsher of the Hall,
he tooke me by and by,
And out of doores too in like sorte,
he thrust me presently.
Then euery Iacke-an-apes,
that rid upon an Asse,
Was ready for to ride me still,
as I the Courte did passe.
The Geese and Ganders hist,
the Duckes cride quack, at mee:
Thus euerie one would haue a flyrt,
ere I could get out free.
The Porter Daliaunce,
he draue me out in haste,
And thrust me downe so hard the Hill,
my neck was almost brast.
And vp I rose againe,
though bruséd verie sore,
And ment, if once I gat away,
for to come there no more.
Well, limping as I coulde,
I hit the beaten waye,
Of fooles foote steps: through Forrest back,
that led me so astraye.
And back againe I came,
to Learning's narrow lane:
And there I hit The trackt of Truth,
that I should first haue tane,
That leaues the Forrest quite:
which when I had hit on,
I staide awhile, and there my walke
I gan to thinke vpon:
And thinking so, I saw
a Scholler comming by,
That came from learnéd Vertue's Schoole:
and, sighing heauely,
I calde him vnto me,
and tolde him of my wo,
Of my sore fall, from Fancies Forte,
and how I caught it so.
Which when that he had harde,
he tooke me by the hande,
And beeing verie weake (in deede)
scarse able for to stande:
He led me to a house
of Wisdome: an olde man,
His Father (as he saide) he was:
and there I rested than.
This Jentle youth, if I
do not forget the same,
Is Honest Reason: so I thinke,
his Father cald his name.
Where, beyng but a while,
my tale I gan to tell
To hym, of this my gentle walke:
wherat he laughéd well,
And laughing so (quoth he)
go, Youth, here take a booke,
And write now, for remēbrance thine,
yt when thou chance to looke
Upon the same againe,
then thou mayst take heede styll,
Of leauyng Wisdome's narrow Lane,
and follow wanton wyll:
Loe, thus at his commaund,
I wrote it by and by:
And this it was, beleeue me now,
or els (at least) I lye.