A pleasant Discourse of Court and Wars with a replication to them both, and a commendation of all those that truly serue Prince and countrie. Written by Thomas Churchyard, and called his Cherrishing |
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Churchyards cherrishing. |
 | A pleasant Discourse of Court and Wars |  |
Churchyards cherrishing.
The wars that marshall men do like,
For countries cause was first begun,
To shield and sword, to launce and pike,
The lusty soldiers then would run,
And glad was he in towne or field,
Could force a forren foe to yeeld.
For countries cause was first begun,
To shield and sword, to launce and pike,
The lusty soldiers then would run,
And glad was he in towne or field,
Could force a forren foe to yeeld.
No walls nor rampire could hold out
A lions hart in manly minde,
Men did in courage grow so stout,
They traueld far hot wars to finde,
And when these men abrode did rome,
They brought great skill and knowledge home.
A lions hart in manly minde,
Men did in courage grow so stout,
They traueld far hot wars to finde,
And when these men abrode did rome,
They brought great skill and knowledge home.
Kings gaue them grace, and honor great,
Fame sounded trumpet in their praise,
VVorld placst them in the highest seate,
So that like gods they raignd those daise:
Yea honord, made of, and extold
Aboue the woorth of pearle or gold.
Fame sounded trumpet in their praise,
VVorld placst them in the highest seate,
So that like gods they raignd those daise:
Yea honord, made of, and extold
Aboue the woorth of pearle or gold.
By them great empires did encrease,
Kingdoms were woon, and conquerd all,
They held vp wars, they made the peace,
They had the world at becke and call:
The sword subdues, and makes them slaues,
That stands vpon their greatest braues.
Kingdoms were woon, and conquerd all,
They held vp wars, they made the peace,
They had the world at becke and call:
The sword subdues, and makes them slaues,
That stands vpon their greatest braues.
Long in this course did soldiers liue,
Beloud and feard as victors are,
They felt no want, but had to giue,
The people tooke of them such care.
Kings and their treasure eury way
Kept noble soldiers from decay.
Beloud and feard as victors are,
They felt no want, but had to giue,
The people tooke of them such care.
Kings and their treasure eury way
Kept noble soldiers from decay.
But when that kings from bounty fell,
And made but wars for their owne gaine,
The wars were then, a second hell,
Pleasure therein, was turnd to paine:
Profit was gone, honor lay lame;
And soldiers sought no more for fame.
And made but wars for their owne gaine,
The wars were then, a second hell,
Pleasure therein, was turnd to paine:
Profit was gone, honor lay lame;
And soldiers sought no more for fame.
Yet countries cause mooud men to fight,
As hirelings worke for wages still,
But take esteem, once from a knight,
You lose his hart, and warme good will,
Then after money doth he looke,
And licks his fingers like a cooke.
As hirelings worke for wages still,
But take esteem, once from a knight,
You lose his hart, and warme good will,
Then after money doth he looke,
And licks his fingers like a cooke.
VVhen kings forget to giue good turns
For good desarts: then soldier shrinks,
The lampe of loue, but dimly burns,
And God doth know, what soldier thinks:
All one we liue (both daies and weekes)
By loue as larks do liue by leekes.
For good desarts: then soldier shrinks,
The lampe of loue, but dimly burns,
And God doth know, what soldier thinks:
All one we liue (both daies and weekes)
By loue as larks do liue by leekes.
VVars now is worse, than walking horse,
For like a hackney tied at rack,
Old soldier so (who wanteth force)
Must learne to beare a pedlers pack,
And trudge to some good market towne,
So from a knight become a clowne.
For like a hackney tied at rack,
Old soldier so (who wanteth force)
Must learne to beare a pedlers pack,
And trudge to some good market towne,
So from a knight become a clowne.
As good serue sowter in his shop,
As follow wars, that beggry brings,
Nay play the childe, and driue the top
Or fauor many fonder things,
And thriue there by, seemes better far,
That run a gadding to the war.
As follow wars, that beggry brings,
Nay play the childe, and driue the top
Or fauor many fonder things,
And thriue there by, seemes better far,
That run a gadding to the war.
Wars wins the workman scarce his bread,
A fig for fame, if that be all,
VVars quickly gets a broken head,
And gaines no better fruit at all,
But when good blood is wasted out,
Into the ioints, wars thrusts the gout.
A fig for fame, if that be all,
VVars quickly gets a broken head,
And gaines no better fruit at all,
But when good blood is wasted out,
Into the ioints, wars thrusts the gout.
Lame lims and legs, and mangled bones,
VVars brings a man vnwares God wot,
VVith priuy pangs, sad sighes and grones,
Then come to court where nought is got,
Saue shauls and shels when kernell sweete
The hogs haue, trampling vnder feete.
VVars brings a man vnwares God wot,
VVith priuy pangs, sad sighes and grones,
Then come to court where nought is got,
Saue shauls and shels when kernell sweete
The hogs haue, trampling vnder feete.
If fiue and forty sons I had,
Not one to court nor wars should goe,
Except that some of them were mad,
So prooud both where I would or noe:
But wars of all the arts that is,
Stands most from hap or heauens blisse.
Not one to court nor wars should goe,
Except that some of them were mad,
So prooud both where I would or noe:
But wars of all the arts that is,
Stands most from hap or heauens blisse.
Wars is a woorme in conshence still,
That gnawes the guts and hart in twaine,
Who goes to wars must make his will,
For feare he coms not home againe:
But at his welcom home in deed,
He gets but words, so starues at need.
That gnawes the guts and hart in twaine,
Who goes to wars must make his will,
For feare he coms not home againe:
But at his welcom home in deed,
He gets but words, so starues at need.
Or at court gate must sit and watch,
Like goodman Cockscom keeping croes,
Go supperles to bed like Patch,
Or for his lodging gage his cloes:
A warme reward, a whip, a whood
Would do a silly foole more good.
Like goodman Cockscom keeping croes,
Go supperles to bed like Patch,
Or for his lodging gage his cloes:
A warme reward, a whip, a whood
Would do a silly foole more good.
Sell house and land, to follow drom,
And so bring home an empty bag,
Then like bare Tom of Bedlem com,
VVith broken breech and many a rag:
And see what pity world will take
On thee for thy great seruice sake.
And so bring home an empty bag,
Then like bare Tom of Bedlem com,
VVith broken breech and many a rag:
And see what pity world will take
On thee for thy great seruice sake.
Keepe that thou hast is counsell good,
VVhat wars may win thinke that is lost,
For prince do hazard life and blood,
If enmies breath but on this cost:
Shun other wars as from a snake,
VVhose sting a mortall wound will make.
VVhat wars may win thinke that is lost,
For prince do hazard life and blood,
If enmies breath but on this cost:
Shun other wars as from a snake,
VVhose sting a mortall wound will make.
VVars is but cald the scourge of God,
A plague for man, and each things foe,
A whisking wand, a cruell rod,
That drawes out blood at eury bloe:
A fearfull bug, a cursed feend,
That driues good daies and yeers to eend.
A plague for man, and each things foe,
A whisking wand, a cruell rod,
That drawes out blood at eury bloe:
A fearfull bug, a cursed feend,
That driues good daies and yeers to eend.
If dyuels dance when drum doth sound,
And saints do weepe, where blood is shed,
If wars doth shake the heauy ground,
VVhereon fish, fowle, and beasts are bred:
O wars packe hence, and run away,
From me and all my friends this day.
And saints do weepe, where blood is shed,
If wars doth shake the heauy ground,
VVhereon fish, fowle, and beasts are bred:
O wars packe hence, and run away,
From me and all my friends this day.
For where thou goest all plagues repaire,
All mischeeues march, all sorrowes swim,
All filthy facts, infects the aire,
All sin and vice is at the brim:
All dearth and famin are aflote,
And all or most, haue God forgote.
All mischeeues march, all sorrowes swim,
All filthy facts, infects the aire,
All sin and vice is at the brim:
All dearth and famin are aflote,
And all or most, haue God forgote.
Fie, fly from wars, as from a fire
That all burns vp, or kils in haste,
Spoiles and robs all, leaues all in mire,
Consumeth all, brings all to waste:
Yet when the wars rules all like king,
VVars is himselfe, a beggry thing.
That all burns vp, or kils in haste,
Spoiles and robs all, leaues all in mire,
Consumeth all, brings all to waste:
Yet when the wars rules all like king,
VVars is himselfe, a beggry thing.
But if proud wars, begin to brall,
And quarrels picks, to wrong our right,
Then clap on armes, corslets and all,
To put a wrangling foe to flight:
And make them run like rats away,
That robs our cheese house eury day.
And quarrels picks, to wrong our right,
Then clap on armes, corslets and all,
To put a wrangling foe to flight:
And make them run like rats away,
That robs our cheese house eury day.
Loe knights, how plaine poore poets shifts,
In scambling world to scowre the coast,
VVith rimes, and sends such new yeers gifts,
From sicke mans couch to court in poast:
VVhere this may make a merry hed,
To smile before he goes to bed.
In scambling world to scowre the coast,
VVith rimes, and sends such new yeers gifts,
From sicke mans couch to court in poast:
VVhere this may make a merry hed,
To smile before he goes to bed.
FINIS.
| A pleasant Discourse of Court and Wars | |