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A TRAGICAL DISCOVRSE OF THE Haplesse mans life.
TO THE HONOVRABLE MY LADIE
Carie. Sir George Caries wife, one of the Ladies of the priuie chamber.
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Come
Courties al, draw neere my morning hers,
Come heare my knell, ere corse to church shal goe,
Or at the least, come read this woefull verse:
And last farwell, the haples penneth so,
And such as doth his life, and manners kno,
Come shed some teares, and see him painted out,
That restles here, did wander world about.
Come heare my knell, ere corse to church shal goe,
Or at the least, come read this woefull verse:
And last farwell, the haples penneth so,
And such as doth his life, and manners kno,
Come shed some teares, and see him painted out,
That restles here, did wander world about.
O pilgrimes poore, presse neere my pagent nowe,
And note ful wel the part that I haue playd,
And wisely waye, my thriftles Fortune throwe,
And print in brest, ech word that heere is said:
Shrinke not my friends, step forth stand not, afrayd
Though monstrous hap, I daily heere possest,
Some sweeter chaunce, may bring your hearts to rest.
And note ful wel the part that I haue playd,
And wisely waye, my thriftles Fortune throwe,
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Shrinke not my friends, step forth stand not, afrayd
Though monstrous hap, I daily heere possest,
Some sweeter chaunce, may bring your hearts to rest.
For though the wretch, in cold and hunger lies,
The happie wight, in pompe and pleasure sits,
The weake falls downe, where mightie folke aries:
The sound feeles not, the feeble ague fits.
So world you wot, doth serue the finest wits,
The wise at will, can walke where shins the Sun
And to the streame and floud ech fish will run.
The happie wight, in pompe and pleasure sits,
The weake falls downe, where mightie folke aries:
The sound feeles not, the feeble ague fits.
So world you wot, doth serue the finest wits,
The wise at will, can walke where shins the Sun
And to the streame and floud ech fish will run.
And hap falles not, to euery man a like,
Some sleepes full sound, yet hath the world at call,
Some leapes the hedge, some lights amid the dike:
Some sucks the sweat, and some the bitter gall,
The vse of things, blynd destnie giues vs all.
So though you see, ten thousand soules in hell,
Yet may you hope, in heauens blisse to dwell.
Some sleepes full sound, yet hath the world at call,
Some leapes the hedge, some lights amid the dike:
Some sucks the sweat, and some the bitter gall,
The vse of things, blynd destnie giues vs all.
So though you see, ten thousand soules in hell,
Yet may you hope, in heauens blisse to dwell.
Let my mishap, a worldly wonder be,
For few can finde, the fruit that I did tast,
Ne leaues nor bowes, I found vpon the tree:
And where I ploud, the Ground lay euer wast.
A man would thinke, the child was borne in hast:
Or out of time, that had such lucke as I,
For loe I looke, for Larkes when falles the skye.
For few can finde, the fruit that I did tast,
Ne leaues nor bowes, I found vpon the tree:
And where I ploud, the Ground lay euer wast.
A man would thinke, the child was borne in hast:
Or out of time, that had such lucke as I,
For loe I looke, for Larkes when falles the skye.
No soyle nor seat, nor season serues my turne,
Ech plot is sowne, with sorowe where I goe,
On mountaine top, they say where torch should burn
I find but smoke, and lothsome smothring woe,
Neere Fountaine head, where springs doe daily floe:
Cold yse I get, that melts with warmth of hand,
So that I starue, where Cocke and Cundits stand.
Ech plot is sowne, with sorowe where I goe,
On mountaine top, they say where torch should burn
I find but smoke, and lothsome smothring woe,
Neere Fountaine head, where springs doe daily floe:
Cold yse I get, that melts with warmth of hand,
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I quench small thirst, where thousands drinke & bib,
An empty cup I carry cleane away,
And though as leane, as rake is euery rib
And hollow cheekes, doth hidden griefe bewray,
The riche eats all, the poore may fast and pray:
No butter cleaus, vpon my bread at neede,
When hungry maw, thinkes throate is cut indeede.
An empty cup I carry cleane away,
And though as leane, as rake is euery rib
And hollow cheekes, doth hidden griefe bewray,
The riche eats all, the poore may fast and pray:
No butter cleaus, vpon my bread at neede,
When hungry maw, thinkes throate is cut indeede.
The shallow brokes, where little fishe are found,
I shun, and seeke, the Seas to swym thereon,
Yet vesssayle sinkes, or barke is layd a ground,
Where leaking ships, in safety still haue gone:
The harbour finde, when hauen haue I none,
Hap calles them in, when I am logde at large,
Thus plainnes creepes, in cold cocke Lorels barge.
I shun, and seeke, the Seas to swym thereon,
Yet vesssayle sinkes, or barke is layd a ground,
Where leaking ships, in safety still haue gone:
The harbour finde, when hauen haue I none,
Hap calles them in, when I am logde at large,
Thus plainnes creepes, in cold cocke Lorels barge.
Full fifety yeeres, both Court and warres I tride,
And still I sought acquaintance with the best,
And serud the state, and did such hap abide,
As might befall, and Fortune sent the rest,
When drum did sound, a souldier was I prest,
To Sea or Land, as Princes quarrell stoode.
And for the same, full oft I lost my bloud.
And still I sought acquaintance with the best,
And serud the state, and did such hap abide,
As might befall, and Fortune sent the rest,
When drum did sound, a souldier was I prest,
To Sea or Land, as Princes quarrell stoode.
And for the same, full oft I lost my bloud.
In Scotland long, I lingered out my yeeres,
When Wilford liud, a worthy wight indeede:
And there at length, I fell so far in briers,
I taken was, as destny had decreede
Well yet with wordes, I did my foes so feede.
That there I liud, in pleasure many aday,
And scapte so free, I did no ransome pay.
When Wilford liud, a worthy wight indeede:
And there at length, I fell so far in briers,
I taken was, as destny had decreede
Well yet with wordes, I did my foes so feede.
That there I liud, in pleasure many aday,
And scapte so free, I did no ransome pay.
Some said I found, in Scotland fauour then,
I graunt my pomp, was more than reason would
Yet on my band, I sent home sundry men
That els had pynd, in prison pincht with cold,
To French, and scots, so faire a tale I told,
That they beleeud, white chalke and cheese was one,
And it was pearle, that proud but pible stone.
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Yet on my band, I sent home sundry men
That els had pynd, in prison pincht with cold,
To French, and scots, so faire a tale I told,
That they beleeud, white chalke and cheese was one,
And it was pearle, that proud but pible stone.
In Lawther fort, I clapt my selfe by sleight,
So fled from foes, and home to friends I past:
The French in hast, beseegd that fortresse streight,
Then was I like to light in fetters fast,
But loe a peace, broke vp the seege at last.
When weary warres, and wicked bloudshed great,
Made both the sides, to seeke a quiet seat.
So fled from foes, and home to friends I past:
The French in hast, beseegd that fortresse streight,
Then was I like to light in fetters fast,
But loe a peace, broke vp the seege at last.
When weary warres, and wicked bloudshed great,
Made both the sides, to seeke a quiet seat.
From thence I came, to England as I might,
And after that, to Irland I did saile,
Where Sellenger, a wise and Noble Knight.
Gaue me such place, as was to mine auaile,
Then [illeg.] walkt as thich as doth the hayle,
About the world, for loe from thence I bore,
(For seruice done), of money right good store.
And after that, to Irland I did saile,
Where Sellenger, a wise and Noble Knight.
Gaue me such place, as was to mine auaile,
Then [illeg.] walkt as thich as doth the hayle,
About the world, for loe from thence I bore,
(For seruice done), of money right good store.
Home came I thoe, and so to France did fare,
When that their King, wan Meatts through fatchis fine,
So on the stocke, I spent al voide of care,
And what I gate. by spoyle I held it mine,
Than downe I past, the pleasaunt floud of Ryen,
And so I serud, in Flanders note the same,
Where loe at first, my hap fell out of frame.
When that their King, wan Meatts through fatchis fine,
So on the stocke, I spent al voide of care,
And what I gate. by spoyle I held it mine,
Than downe I past, the pleasaunt floud of Ryen,
And so I serud, in Flanders note the same,
Where loe at first, my hap fell out of frame.
For I was clapt, in prison without cause,
And streightly held, for comming out of France,
But God did worke, through iustice of the cause,
And helpe of friends, to me a better chaunce,
And still I hopte, the warres would me aduance
So trayld the pike, and world began a newe,
And lookt like hauke, that lately came from mue.
And streightly held, for comming out of France,
But God did worke, through iustice of the cause,
And helpe of friends, to me a better chaunce,
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So trayld the pike, and world began a newe,
And lookt like hauke, that lately came from mue.
Three yeere at least, I saw the Emprours warres,
Then homeward drewe, as was my wonted trade:
Where Sun and Moone, and al the seuen starres,
Stode on my side, and me great welcome made,
But whether fayre, and flowres full soone wil fade:
So peoples loue, is like new besomes oft,
That sweepes all cleane, whiles brome is greene and soft.
Then homeward drewe, as was my wonted trade:
Where Sun and Moone, and al the seuen starres,
Stode on my side, and me great welcome made,
But whether fayre, and flowres full soone wil fade:
So peoples loue, is like new besomes oft,
That sweepes all cleane, whiles brome is greene and soft.
Well once againe, to warres I drew me fast,
And with Lord Gray at Giens I did remaine,
Where he or his, in any seruice past,
I followed on, amyd the warlike traine,
And sometime felt, my part of woe and paine:
As others did, that Canon wel could like
And pleasure tooke, in trayling of the pike.
And with Lord Gray at Giens I did remaine,
Where he or his, in any seruice past,
I followed on, amyd the warlike traine,
And sometime felt, my part of woe and paine:
As others did, that Canon wel could like
And pleasure tooke, in trayling of the pike.
At length the French, did Giens beseege ye wot,
And little helpe or succour found we thoe,
By which foule want, it was my heauy lot:
To Paris streight with good Lord Gray to goe,
As prisoners both, the world to wel doth knoe,
By tract of time, and wonders charge indeede,
He homeward went, and tooke his leaue with speede.
And little helpe or succour found we thoe,
By which foule want, it was my heauy lot:
To Paris streight with good Lord Gray to goe,
As prisoners both, the world to wel doth knoe,
By tract of time, and wonders charge indeede,
He homeward went, and tooke his leaue with speede.
But post alone, I stoode alacke the while,
And country cleane, forgot me this is true,
And I might liue, in sorrow and exile.
And pine away, for any thing I knewe,
As I had bakt, indeede so might I brue:
Not one at home, did seeke my griefe to heale,
Thus was I cleane cut of from common weale.
And country cleane, forgot me this is true,
And I might liue, in sorrow and exile.
And pine away, for any thing I knewe,
As I had bakt, indeede so might I brue:
Not one at home, did seeke my griefe to heale,
Thus was I cleane cut of from common weale.
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Yet loe a shift, to skape away I found,
When to my faith, my taker gaue no trust,
I did deuise, in writing to be bound:
To come againe, the time was set full iust,
But to returne forsoth I had no lust,
Since faith could get no credit at his hand,
I sent him word, to come and sue my band.
When to my faith, my taker gaue no trust,
I did deuise, in writing to be bound:
To come againe, the time was set full iust,
But to returne forsoth I had no lust,
Since faith could get no credit at his hand,
I sent him word, to come and sue my band.
He came himselfe, to court as I did heare,
And told his tale, as finely as he might,
At Ragland then, was I in Monmouth shiere.
Yet when in court, this matter came to light:
My friends did say, that I had done him right,
A Souldier ought vpon his faith to go,
Which I had kept, if he had sent me so.
And told his tale, as finely as he might,
At Ragland then, was I in Monmouth shiere.
Yet when in court, this matter came to light:
My friends did say, that I had done him right,
A Souldier ought vpon his faith to go,
Which I had kept, if he had sent me so.
Well yet my mind, could neuer rest at home,
My shoes were made, of running leather sure,
And borne I was, about the world to rome,
To see the warres, and keepe my hand in vre:
The French ye knowe, did Englishmen procure,
To come to Leeth, at seege whereof I was,
Till French did seeke, in ships away to passe.
My shoes were made, of running leather sure,
And borne I was, about the world to rome,
To see the warres, and keepe my hand in vre:
The French ye knowe, did Englishmen procure,
To come to Leeth, at seege whereof I was,
Till French did seeke, in ships away to passe.
A little breath, I toke then after this,
And shapte my selfe, about the Court to be,
And euery day, as right and reason is,
To serue the Prince, in Court I settled me:
Some friends I found, as friends doe goe you see,
That gaue me words, as sweete as hony still,
Yet let me liue, by head and cunning skill.
And shapte my selfe, about the Court to be,
And euery day, as right and reason is,
To serue the Prince, in Court I settled me:
Some friends I found, as friends doe goe you see,
That gaue me words, as sweete as hony still,
Yet let me liue, by head and cunning skill.
I crucht, I kneeld, and many a cap could vayle,
And watched late, and early rose at morne,
And with the throng, I followed hard at tayle:
As braue as bull, or sheepe but newly shorne,
The gladest man, that euer yet was borne,
To wayt and stare, among the states full hye:
Who feedes the poore, with many a friendly eye.
And watched late, and early rose at morne,
And with the throng, I followed hard at tayle:
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The gladest man, that euer yet was borne,
To wayt and stare, among the states full hye:
Who feedes the poore, with many a friendly eye.
But who can liue, with goodly lookes alone,
Or merry words, that sounds like tabers pype,
Say what they will, they loue to keepe their owne:
And part with nought, that commeth in their gripe,
You shall haue Nuts, they say when ploms are ripe.
Thus all with shalls, or shalles ye shal be fed,
And gape for gold, and want both Gold and lead.
Or merry words, that sounds like tabers pype,
Say what they will, they loue to keepe their owne:
And part with nought, that commeth in their gripe,
You shall haue Nuts, they say when ploms are ripe.
Thus all with shalls, or shalles ye shal be fed,
And gape for gold, and want both Gold and lead.
The proof thereof, made me to seeke far hence,
To Anwerp then, I trudged on the spleene
And all in hast to get some spending pence,
To serue my turne, in seruice of the Queene:
But God he knowes, my gaine was smal I weene.
For though I did my credit still encrease,
I got no wealth, by warres, ne yet by peace.
To Anwerp then, I trudged on the spleene
And all in hast to get some spending pence,
To serue my turne, in seruice of the Queene:
But God he knowes, my gaine was smal I weene.
For though I did my credit still encrease,
I got no wealth, by warres, ne yet by peace.
Yet harke and note, I pray you if you please,
In Anwerp towne, what Fortune me befel:
My chance was such, when I had past the seas,
(And taken land and thereon rested wel)
The people iard, and range a larum bel,
So that in armes, the towne was euery where,
And few or none, of life stood certaine there.
In Anwerp towne, what Fortune me befel:
My chance was such, when I had past the seas,
(And taken land and thereon rested wel)
The people iard, and range a larum bel,
So that in armes, the towne was euery where,
And few or none, of life stood certaine there.
A Noble Prince I saw, amid that broyle,
To whome I went, and sware his part to take,
The commons came, al set on rage and spoyle,
And gaue me charge, to keepe my wits awake:
The Prince for loue, of King and countries sake.
Bad me doe wel, and shed no guyltles bloud,
And saue from spoyle, poore people and their good.
To whome I went, and sware his part to take,
The commons came, al set on rage and spoyle,
And gaue me charge, to keepe my wits awake:
The Prince for loue, of King and countries sake.
Bad me doe wel, and shed no guyltles bloud,
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I gaue my fayth, and hand to doe the same.
And wrought the best, that I could worke therefore:
And brought at length, the commons in such frame,
That some were bent to blow the cole no more,
Yet some to rage, and robbery ran full sore:
Whome I reformde, so that no harme did fall,
To any wight, among the commons all.
And wrought the best, that I could worke therefore:
And brought at length, the commons in such frame,
That some were bent to blow the cole no more,
Yet some to rage, and robbery ran full sore:
Whome I reformde, so that no harme did fall,
To any wight, among the commons all.
The keyes I had, of towne and treasure both,
And Captaine was, of thousands three daies than,
And ruled all, our foes to tell you troth,
And saud indeed, the life of many a man.
And many a peece, of goodly ordinance wan:
Tooke prisoners two, and of the brauest sort,
I clapt in hold, and held the enemies short.
And Captaine was, of thousands three daies than,
And ruled all, our foes to tell you troth,
And saud indeed, the life of many a man.
And many a peece, of goodly ordinance wan:
Tooke prisoners two, and of the brauest sort,
I clapt in hold, and held the enemies short.
Fiue thousand shot, I sent behind their backes,
To dant their pryde, and plucke their courage downe,
And quicke with speede, deuisd such cunning knackes.
As in three howres, we conquerd all the towne.
The enemies durst, no drum nor trumphet sowne,
For feare of blowes, for such a campe they sawe,
In armes at hand, that held them all in awe,
To dant their pryde, and plucke their courage downe,
And quicke with speede, deuisd such cunning knackes.
As in three howres, we conquerd all the towne.
The enemies durst, no drum nor trumphet sowne,
For feare of blowes, for such a campe they sawe,
In armes at hand, that held them all in awe,
The enemies drew, the Martinests from me,
By such false brute, as subtil people rayse:
The Caluenists, that did this trechery see,
Loud quicke dispatch, but hated long delayes.
They sawe the world, was wandring sundry wayes,
So bad me store, to stay the reeling state,
That soone would fall, and breed a strange debate.
By such false brute, as subtil people rayse:
The Caluenists, that did this trechery see,
Loud quicke dispatch, but hated long delayes.
They sawe the world, was wandring sundry wayes,
So bad me store, to stay the reeling state,
That soone would fall, and breed a strange debate.
Ten thousand men, by this deuise we lost,
But ere they could make head against vs there,
We housd them all, and to the Prince in post,
I past to put, the people in such feare,
That we in hast, vnarmd them euery where,
Then did we march, with fifteene thousand more,
Along the streetes, and thankt the Lord therefore.
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We housd them all, and to the Prince in post,
I past to put, the people in such feare,
That we in hast, vnarmd them euery where,
Then did we march, with fifteene thousand more,
Along the streetes, and thankt the Lord therefore.
Ech man in peace, and safe in lodging so,
The gospell free and preachers well at ease,
To England streight, indeede I thought to goe
When this vprore, with peace I did appease.
In surety so, I could not passe the seas,
A drift was drawne, to take me in a trap,
But God prepard, for me a better hap.
The gospell free and preachers well at ease,
To England streight, indeede I thought to goe
When this vprore, with peace I did appease.
In surety so, I could not passe the seas,
A drift was drawne, to take me in a trap,
But God prepard, for me a better hap.
In streete we stoode, and brake ne huose nor dore,
And for three dayes, made no mans finger bleed:
I dare auouch, that neither rich or poore.
Could say they lost the valour of a threede,
Well what of that, you know an honest deed,
Is soone forgot, of such as thankles be,
For in the end, it fared so by me.
And for three dayes, made no mans finger bleed:
I dare auouch, that neither rich or poore.
Could say they lost the valour of a threede,
Well what of that, you know an honest deed,
Is soone forgot, of such as thankles be,
For in the end, it fared so by me.
The towne I kept, from cruell sword and fire,
Did seeke my life, when peace and all was made,
And such they were, that did my bloud desire:
As I had saude, from blowes and bloudy blade,
I crept away, and hide me in the shade,
But as the day, and Sun began to shine,
They followed fast, with force and practize fine.
Did seeke my life, when peace and all was made,
And such they were, that did my bloud desire:
As I had saude, from blowes and bloudy blade,
I crept away, and hide me in the shade,
But as the day, and Sun began to shine,
They followed fast, with force and practize fine.
In priests atyre, but not with shauen crowne.
I scapte their hands, that sought to haue my head,
In forckid cap, and pleycted curtal gowne:
Far from the Church, stode me in right good stead.
In al this while, ne masse for quicke nor dead,
I durst not sing, a posting priest I was,
That did in hast, from post to piller passe.
I scapte their hands, that sought to haue my head,
In forckid cap, and pleycted curtal gowne:
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In al this while, ne masse for quicke nor dead,
I durst not sing, a posting priest I was,
That did in hast, from post to piller passe.
In Briges then, the persons breatch did quake,
For there a clarke, came tinging of a Bell,
(That in the towne, did such a rumbling make)
I could not walke, in vickars garments well:
So there I wisht my selfe in cockle shel,
Or sea man sloppes, that smeld of pitch and far,
Which robes I found, ere I had traueld far.
For there a clarke, came tinging of a Bell,
(That in the towne, did such a rumbling make)
I could not walke, in vickars garments well:
So there I wisht my selfe in cockle shel,
Or sea man sloppes, that smeld of pitch and far,
Which robes I found, ere I had traueld far.
A Marshall came, and searcht our whole fleete than,
In boate I leapt, and so through Sealand went,
And many a day a silly weary man:
I traueld there, and stode with toyle content,
Til God by grace, a better Fortune sent.
And brought me home in safety as you knoe,
Great thankes to him, I giue that serude me so.
In boate I leapt, and so through Sealand went,
And many a day a silly weary man:
I traueld there, and stode with toyle content,
Til God by grace, a better Fortune sent.
And brought me home in safety as you knoe,
Great thankes to him, I giue that serude me so.
In Court where I, at rest and peace remainde,
I thought vpon, the part that Flemings plaide,
And for goodwil, since I was so retainde:
I thought to make, those roysters once afraid,
So hoist vp sayle when I had anker waid,
And into France, I slipt with much adoe,
Where loe a Net, was making for me to.
I thought vpon, the part that Flemings plaide,
And for goodwil, since I was so retainde:
I thought to make, those roysters once afraid,
So hoist vp sayle when I had anker waid,
And into France, I slipt with much adoe,
Where loe a Net, was making for me to.
Yet past I through, to Paris without stop,
When ciuile broyles were likely to begin,
And standing there, within a merchants shop,
I heard one say the Prince was comming in,
To Flaunders fast, with whome I late had bin,
Before you wot, thus hauing merry newes,
I stole away, and so did France refuse.
When ciuile broyles were likely to begin,
And standing there, within a merchants shop,
I heard one say the Prince was comming in,
To Flaunders fast, with whome I late had bin,
Before you wot, thus hauing merry newes,
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But by your leaue, I fell in daunger deepe,
Before I could in freedome goe or ride,
Deuouring Wolues, had like to slaine the sheepe:
And wipte their mouthes, vpon the muttons hide.
Nought goes amisse, where God wil be the guide,
So through the place, where perril most did seeme,
I past at will, when danger was extreme.
Before I could in freedome goe or ride,
Deuouring Wolues, had like to slaine the sheepe:
And wipte their mouthes, vpon the muttons hide.
Nought goes amisse, where God wil be the guide,
So through the place, where perril most did seeme,
I past at will, when danger was extreme.
The Prince I found, from Collen at his house,
And there I saw, of Roitters right good store,
Who welcomde me, with many a mad carouse:
Such is their gise, and hath bin euermore,
To Flaunders thus, we marcht and God before,
And neare the Rhine, our Campe a season lay,
Till money came, and had a generall pay.
And there I saw, of Roitters right good store,
Who welcomde me, with many a mad carouse:
Such is their gise, and hath bin euermore,
To Flaunders thus, we marcht and God before,
And neare the Rhine, our Campe a season lay,
Till money came, and had a generall pay.
In Flaunders long, our Campe remained still,
And sweete with sowre, we tasted sundry wayes
Who goes to warres, must feele both good and ill
Some likes it not, and some that life can prayes
Where nightes are cold, and many hungry dayes
Some will not be, yet such as loues the drom
Takes in good part, the chaunces as they com.
And sweete with sowre, we tasted sundry wayes
Who goes to warres, must feele both good and ill
Some likes it not, and some that life can prayes
Where nightes are cold, and many hungry dayes
Some will not be, yet such as loues the drom
Takes in good part, the chaunces as they com.
Perhaps my share, was not the sweetest there,
I make no bost, nor finde no fault therein:
I sought my selfe, the burthen for to beare,
Among the rest, that had ore charged bin.
If smart I felt, it was a plague for sin,
If ioy I found, I knewe it would not last,
If wealth I had, so wast came on as fast,
I make no bost, nor finde no fault therein:
I sought my selfe, the burthen for to beare,
Among the rest, that had ore charged bin.
If smart I felt, it was a plague for sin,
If ioy I found, I knewe it would not last,
If wealth I had, so wast came on as fast,
When Prince did passe, to France and Flaunders last,
I licence sought, to see my natiue soile,
He told me than, the French by some fine craft:
On me at lenght would make a pray and spoyle,
I tooke my leaue, not fearing any foyle.
But ere the day, the skie had cleane forsooke,
I fell in snare, as fish on baited hoke.
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He told me than, the French by some fine craft:
On me at lenght would make a pray and spoyle,
I tooke my leaue, not fearing any foyle.
But ere the day, the skie had cleane forsooke,
I fell in snare, as fish on baited hoke.
A woefull tale, it is to tell indeed,
Yet heare it out, and how God wrought for me,
The case was such, that I a gide did neede,
So in the field, full neare a willow tree.
I found a carle, that needes my guide must be
His hand I had, his heart did halt the while,
And treason did, through trust the true beguyle.
Yet heare it out, and how God wrought for me,
The case was such, that I a gide did neede,
So in the field, full neare a willow tree.
I found a carle, that needes my guide must be
His hand I had, his heart did halt the while,
And treason did, through trust the true beguyle.
We held the way, vnto S. Quintance right,
As I did thinke, but long two leagues I lost,
To ease my horse, he had me oft a light:
But I thereat, seemd dumme and deaffe as post,
Of stomacke stout, the way oftimes he crost:
And sought to take, my bridle by the raine,
That sleight I found, and so he lost his paine.
As I did thinke, but long two leagues I lost,
To ease my horse, he had me oft a light:
But I thereat, seemd dumme and deaffe as post,
Of stomacke stout, the way oftimes he crost:
And sought to take, my bridle by the raine,
That sleight I found, and so he lost his paine.
Had I turnd backe, the pesants were at hand
Who mounted were, on better horse than I,
A village neere, there was within that land:
Where loe my guide, would haue me for to lye.
Not so my friend, I answerde very hie,
Whereat he knewe, the pad in straw was found,
So tooke the ball, and stroke it at rebound:
Who mounted were, on better horse than I,
A village neere, there was within that land:
Where loe my guide, would haue me for to lye.
Not so my friend, I answerde very hie,
Whereat he knewe, the pad in straw was found,
So tooke the ball, and stroke it at rebound:
Thou canst not scape, (quoth he) then light a downe,
Thou art but dead, thy lyfe here shalt thou lose,
And there withall, the carle began to frowne:
And laid his hand, vpon my leather hose.
Through signes he made, the towne by this arose,
And some by warres, that lately lost their good,
Sought to reuenge the same vpon my blood.
Thou art but dead, thy lyfe here shalt thou lose,
And there withall, the carle began to frowne:
And laid his hand, vpon my leather hose.
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And some by warres, that lately lost their good,
Sought to reuenge the same vpon my blood.
My guide leapt vp, vpon the horse I rode,
And flang away, as fast as he could driue:
Downe was I halde, and on my face they trode,
And for my robes, the tormenters did striue.
My guide did crie, O leaue him not aliue:
An English churle, he is his tongue doth showe,
And gold he hath good store, ful wel I know.
And flang away, as fast as he could driue:
Downe was I halde, and on my face they trode,
And for my robes, the tormenters did striue.
My guide did crie, O leaue him not aliue:
An English churle, he is his tongue doth showe,
And gold he hath good store, ful wel I know.
They stript me streight, from dublet to my shurt,
Yet hose they left, vntoucht as God it would
No power they had, to doe me further hurt:
For as the Knife, to throate they gan to hold.
To saue my life, an vpright tale I told,
They hearing that, laid all their weapons downe,
And askt me if, I knewe saint Quintains towne.
Yet hose they left, vntoucht as God it would
No power they had, to doe me further hurt:
For as the Knife, to throate they gan to hold.
To saue my life, an vpright tale I told,
They hearing that, laid all their weapons downe,
And askt me if, I knewe saint Quintains towne.
I past therby, when to the Spawe I went,
(Quoth I) and there, my pasport well was viewd,
If that be true, said one thou shalt be sent:
From thence in hast, and so they did conclude.
To towne I should, from sauage countrey rude,
So in they hey, they laid me all that night,
Yet sought my life, before the day was light.
(Quoth I) and there, my pasport well was viewd,
If that be true, said one thou shalt be sent:
From thence in hast, and so they did conclude.
To towne I should, from sauage countrey rude,
So in they hey, they laid me all that night,
Yet sought my life, before the day was light.
But as with weedes, some suffrant flower groes,
So in that soile a blessed man was bred,
Which vndertooke, to keepe me from my foes:
And saue my life, by fine deuice of head.
He cald me vp, when they were in their bed,
And bad me goe, with him where he thought best,
Least in that place, full small should be my rest.
So in that soile a blessed man was bred,
Which vndertooke, to keepe me from my foes:
And saue my life, by fine deuice of head.
He cald me vp, when they were in their bed,
And bad me goe, with him where he thought best,
Least in that place, full small should be my rest.
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I followed on, as he did lead the trace,
He brought me safe, where I in surety stood,
Thus God through him, did shewe his might and grace,
Which ioyde me more, than all this worldly good:
The other sort, were butchers al for bloud,
And daily slue, such stragglars as they tooke,
For whome they lay, and watcht in many a noke,
He brought me safe, where I in surety stood,
Thus God through him, did shewe his might and grace,
Which ioyde me more, than all this worldly good:
The other sort, were butchers al for bloud,
And daily slue, such stragglars as they tooke,
For whome they lay, and watcht in many a noke,
That hazard past, I found more mischieues still,
But none so great, nor none so much to feare:
With toyle and payne, with slight of head and skil
From Fraunce I came, (and left all mischief there)
Now heere what fruit, my natiue soyle doth beare,
See what I reape, and marke what I haue sowne:
And let my lucke, through all this Land bee knowne.
But none so great, nor none so much to feare:
With toyle and payne, with slight of head and skil
From Fraunce I came, (and left all mischief there)
Now heere what fruit, my natiue soyle doth beare,
See what I reape, and marke what I haue sowne:
And let my lucke, through all this Land bee knowne.
First let mee tell, how Fortune did mee call,
To Garnesey thoe, to staie my troubled minde:
Where well I was, although my wealth was small,
And long had dwelt, if destny had assignde,
But as the ship, is subiect to the winde,
So we must chaunge, as checking chaunces falls,
Who tosseth men, about like tennis balles.
To Garnesey thoe, to staie my troubled minde:
Where well I was, although my wealth was small,
And long had dwelt, if destny had assignde,
But as the ship, is subiect to the winde,
So we must chaunge, as checking chaunces falls,
Who tosseth men, about like tennis balles.
This chaunce is shee, some saie that leades men out,
And bringes them home, when least they looke therefore,
A dallying dame, that breedes both hope and doubt,
And makes great woundes, yet seldome salues the sore,
Not sure on sea, nor certaine on the shore,
A worldly witch, that deales with wanton charmes,
For one good turne, shee doth ten thousand harmes.
And bringes them home, when least they looke therefore,
A dallying dame, that breedes both hope and doubt,
And makes great woundes, yet seldome salues the sore,
Not sure on sea, nor certaine on the shore,
A worldly witch, that deales with wanton charmes,
For one good turne, shee doth ten thousand harmes.
A figge for chaunce, this Fortune beares no shape,
The people fond, a name to Fortune giue:
Which sencelesse soules, doe after shadowes gape,
Great GOD doth rule, and sure as God doth liue,
Hee grindes the Corne, and sifts the meale through siue,
And leaues the bran, as refues of the flowre,
To worke his will, and shew his mightie power.
The people fond, a name to Fortune giue:
Which sencelesse soules, doe after shadowes gape,
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Hee grindes the Corne, and sifts the meale through siue,
And leaues the bran, as refues of the flowre,
To worke his will, and shew his mightie power.
Promotion comes, ne from the East nor West,
Ne South nor North, it fals from Heauen hie:
For God himselfe, sets vp whom hee thinkes best,
And casts them downe, whose hearts would climbe the skie.
Thus earthly haps, in wordlings doe not lie.
Wee trudge, wee run, we ride and breake our braine,
And backward come, the selfe same steps againe.
Ne South nor North, it fals from Heauen hie:
For God himselfe, sets vp whom hee thinkes best,
And casts them downe, whose hearts would climbe the skie.
Thus earthly haps, in wordlings doe not lie.
Wee trudge, wee run, we ride and breake our braine,
And backward come, the selfe same steps againe.
Till time approch, that God will man prefarre,
With labours long, in vaine we beat the ayre:
Our destnies dwell, in neyther moone nor starre,
Nor comfortes come, from people foule nor fayre,
Small hope in those, that sits in golden chayre.
Their moodes, their mindes, and all wee goe about,
Takes light from him, that puts our candle out.
With labours long, in vaine we beat the ayre:
Our destnies dwell, in neyther moone nor starre,
Nor comfortes come, from people foule nor fayre,
Small hope in those, that sits in golden chayre.
Their moodes, their mindes, and all wee goe about,
Takes light from him, that puts our candle out.
This argues now, all goodnesse freely groes,
From him that first, made man of earthly mold:
And floodes of wealth into their bosome floes,
That clearely can, his blessed will behold.
As sheapeheardes doe, keepe safe their sheepe in fold.
And Gardner knowes, how flowres should watred bee,
So God giues ayde, ere man the want can see.
From him that first, made man of earthly mold:
And floodes of wealth into their bosome floes,
That clearely can, his blessed will behold.
As sheapeheardes doe, keepe safe their sheepe in fold.
And Gardner knowes, how flowres should watred bee,
So God giues ayde, ere man the want can see.
Helpes comes not sure, by hap, or heads deuice,
Though wits of men, are meanes to worke the waxe:
And cunning handes, doe often cast the dice.
All these are toyes, trust vp in tinkars packes,
No flame will rise, till fire bee thrust to flaxe.
No braunch may bud, till he that made the plant,
With dew of grace, indeede supplies the want.
Though wits of men, are meanes to worke the waxe:
And cunning handes, doe often cast the dice.
All these are toyes, trust vp in tinkars packes,
No flame will rise, till fire bee thrust to flaxe.
No braunch may bud, till he that made the plant,
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Can earth yeeld fruit, till Spring time sap doe shoe?
Can ayre be cleere, till fogges and mists be fled?
Can seas and flouds, at euery season floe?
Can men giue life, to shapes and bodies dead?
Such secrets passe, the reach of mans vaine head,
So looke to reape, no corne for all our toile,
Till haruest come, and God hath blest the soyle.
Can ayre be cleere, till fogges and mists be fled?
Can seas and flouds, at euery season floe?
Can men giue life, to shapes and bodies dead?
Such secrets passe, the reach of mans vaine head,
So looke to reape, no corne for all our toile,
Till haruest come, and God hath blest the soyle.
The potter knowes, what vessaile serues his turne,
And therein still, he powreth liquor sweete:
The Cooke wel notes, what wood is best to burne,
And what conceipts, is for the banket meete:
The Captaine markes, what Souldier hath most spreete.
And calles that man, to charge and office great,
When he thinkes good, and seruice is in heat.
And therein still, he powreth liquor sweete:
The Cooke wel notes, what wood is best to burne,
And what conceipts, is for the banket meete:
The Captaine markes, what Souldier hath most spreete.
And calles that man, to charge and office great,
When he thinkes good, and seruice is in heat.
Dare any wight, presume to take the place,
Of worthy charge, till he thereto be cald?
Dare subiect brag, before the Princes face?
Or striue with states, that are in honour stauld?
Dare village boast, with Citie strongly wauld?
Dare children clime, till they good footing finde,
No al things yeelds, to him that leads the mind.
Of worthy charge, till he thereto be cald?
Dare subiect brag, before the Princes face?
Or striue with states, that are in honour stauld?
Dare village boast, with Citie strongly wauld?
Dare children clime, till they good footing finde,
No al things yeelds, to him that leads the mind.
He lifts aloft, he flingeth downe as fast,
He giues men fame, and plucks renowne away,
Hap doth not so, for chaunce is but a blast,
An idle word, wherewith weake people play:
Hap hangs and holds, on hazard euery way,
And hazard leanes, on doubt and daunger deepe,
That glads but few, and maketh Millions weepe.
He giues men fame, and plucks renowne away,
Hap doth not so, for chaunce is but a blast,
An idle word, wherewith weake people play:
Hap hangs and holds, on hazard euery way,
And hazard leanes, on doubt and daunger deepe,
That glads but few, and maketh Millions weepe.
I vse this terme, of hap in all I write,
As well to make, the matter large and long,
As any cause, or dram of great delight
I take therein: But here I doe you wrong.
To lead your cares, with such a sencelesse song,
From hearing that, I promisd haue to ende,
The bare discourse, the haplesse man hath pend.
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As any cause, or dram of great delight
I take therein: But here I doe you wrong.
To lead your cares, with such a sencelesse song,
From hearing that, I promisd haue to ende,
The bare discourse, the haplesse man hath pend.
So comming home, and crept from toyle abroad,
(With charged brest, and heauy heauing hart)
I thought in Court, my burthen to vnloade:
And cast away, the cares of former smart,
But there alas, my chaunce is so orethwart,
I sit and sighe, and fold mine armes withall,
And in old griefes, afresh begin to fal.
(With charged brest, and heauy heauing hart)
I thought in Court, my burthen to vnloade:
And cast away, the cares of former smart,
But there alas, my chaunce is so orethwart,
I sit and sighe, and fold mine armes withall,
And in old griefes, afresh begin to fal.
Yea there where most, my hope and haunt hath bin,
Where yeares and dayes, I spent vpon the stocke:
And diuers doe, good hap and frendship win.
(And duetie makes a World of people flocke)
And thousands Loe, drawes water from the Cocke,
I scearse may moyst, my mouth when thirst is great
And hart is cleane, consumde with scalding heat.
Where yeares and dayes, I spent vpon the stocke:
And diuers doe, good hap and frendship win.
(And duetie makes a World of people flocke)
And thousands Loe, drawes water from the Cocke,
I scearse may moyst, my mouth when thirst is great
And hart is cleane, consumde with scalding heat.
A spring of kind, doth floe aboue the brim,
Yet cannot stoppe a Fountaine if you would:
For through hard rockes, it runneth cleere and trim.
And in some Ground, it casts vp grayne of Gold,
It bursts the Earth, and deepely digges the Ground.
It gusheth out, and goes in sundry vaines,
From mountaines top, and spreadeth al the playnes.
Yet cannot stoppe a Fountaine if you would:
For through hard rockes, it runneth cleere and trim.
And in some Ground, it casts vp grayne of Gold,
It bursts the Earth, and deepely digges the Ground.
It gusheth out, and goes in sundry vaines,
From mountaines top, and spreadeth al the playnes.
The Spring creepes vp, the highest hil that is,
And many Wells, thereon are easly found,
And this I wot, where doe you water mis,
Small fruit doth grow, it is but barraine Ground
The soyle is sweete, where pleasaunt springes abound,
The Cowslop sproutes, where spring and fountaines bee,
And floodes beginne, from fountaine heades you see.
And many Wells, thereon are easly found,
And this I wot, where doe you water mis,
Small fruit doth grow, it is but barraine Ground
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The Cowslop sproutes, where spring and fountaines bee,
And floodes beginne, from fountaine heades you see.
The laboring man, thereat doth cole his heat,
The birdes doe bathe, their breasts full brauely there:
The brutest beastes, therein find pleasures great,
And likes not halfe, so well another where,
What cause in mee, what doubt, what fault, or feare.
That I may not, in this so weake a plight:
Go drinke my fill, where ech thing hath delight.
The birdes doe bathe, their breasts full brauely there:
The brutest beastes, therein find pleasures great,
And likes not halfe, so well another where,
What cause in mee, what doubt, what fault, or feare.
That I may not, in this so weake a plight:
Go drinke my fill, where ech thing hath delight.
The more wee drawe, the water from the well,
The better farre, wee bring the spring in frame,
The seas themselues, of nature rise and swell,
The more the wind, and weather workes the same.
The fire burnes best, when bellowes blowes the flame.
Let thinges stand still, and stirre them not in time:
They shall decay, by meane of drosse and slime.
The better farre, wee bring the spring in frame,
The seas themselues, of nature rise and swell,
The more the wind, and weather workes the same.
The fire burnes best, when bellowes blowes the flame.
Let thinges stand still, and stirre them not in time:
They shall decay, by meane of drosse and slime.
I see some streames, with stickes are choked vp,
And Riuers large, are marde with beds of sande:
I see some bring, from Doels an emptie cup,
Yet craue an almes, and showes a needie hand.
I see bare boyes, before the banket stand,
And no man sayth, loe poore man if thou wut:
Take heere a dish, to fill thy hungrie gut.
And Riuers large, are marde with beds of sande:
I see some bring, from Doels an emptie cup,
Yet craue an almes, and showes a needie hand.
I see bare boyes, before the banket stand,
And no man sayth, loe poore man if thou wut:
Take heere a dish, to fill thy hungrie gut.
Of cormorant kind some crammed Capons are,
The more they eate, the more they may consume,
Some men likewise, the better that they fare,
The worse they bee, and sicker of the rume,
And some so chafe, so frowne, so fret, and fume,
When others feede, they cannot God hee knows:
Spare any time, the dropping of their nose.
The more they eate, the more they may consume,
Some men likewise, the better that they fare,
The worse they bee, and sicker of the rume,
And some so chafe, so frowne, so fret, and fume,
When others feede, they cannot God hee knows:
Spare any time, the dropping of their nose.
The bordes are spread, and feasts are made thereon,
And such sits downe, that hath their bellies full:
Whose greedy mouthes, from dogge would snatch the bone.
Which snudges swell, and looke like greiste wull:
They puffe, they blowe, yea like a bayted bull.
And shoue them backe, that on small crumes would feede,
Whose patient heartes, makes vertue of a neede.
And such sits downe, that hath their bellies full:
Whose greedy mouthes, from dogge would snatch the bone.
Which snudges swell, and looke like greiste wull:
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And shoue them backe, that on small crumes would feede,
Whose patient heartes, makes vertue of a neede.
The Glutton thinkes, his belly is too small,
When in his eye, a dayntie morsell is:
Hee grines and gapes, as though no crum should fall
From him: and lookes as all the world were his.
Thus such as want, are sure the post to kis.
For poulting pride, doth presse so fast in place,
That poore plaine Tom, dare scarse come shew his face.
When in his eye, a dayntie morsell is:
Hee grines and gapes, as though no crum should fall
From him: and lookes as all the world were his.
Thus such as want, are sure the post to kis.
For poulting pride, doth presse so fast in place,
That poore plaine Tom, dare scarse come shew his face.
Ech one doth seeke, for to aspire and rise,
Yet hate wee those, that doth by vertue clime:
The foole hee scornes, the worship of the wise,
Yet dolts presume, beyond the wise sometime,
And all this strife, is but for drosse and slime.
That out of earth, we dig with daungers deepe:
Full hard to winne, and much more wordes to keepe.
Yet hate wee those, that doth by vertue clime:
The foole hee scornes, the worship of the wise,
Yet dolts presume, beyond the wise sometime,
And all this strife, is but for drosse and slime.
That out of earth, we dig with daungers deepe:
Full hard to winne, and much more wordes to keepe.
This makes me muse, when some haue heapes in hord,
They will not helpe, the neerest friend they haue:
And yet with smiles, and many a friendlie word,
They graunt to giue, before a man doe craue,
Such Barbors fine, can finely poule and shaue,
And wash full cleane till all away they wash:
Then good sir Grime, like lob they leaue in lash.
They will not helpe, the neerest friend they haue:
And yet with smiles, and many a friendlie word,
They graunt to giue, before a man doe craue,
Such Barbors fine, can finely poule and shaue,
And wash full cleane till all away they wash:
Then good sir Grime, like lob they leaue in lash.
What should men loose, when they enough haue had,
If that they part, with thinges that might be sparde?
A little peece, out of a golden gad,
For seruice long; might be a great reward,
No no as steele, and flint is stiffe and hard.
So World is waxt, and no good turne is found,
But where indeede, doe double gifts rebound.
If that they part, with thinges that might be sparde?
A little peece, out of a golden gad,
For seruice long; might be a great reward,
No no as steele, and flint is stiffe and hard.
So World is waxt, and no good turne is found,
But where indeede, doe double gifts rebound.
We make a legge, and kisse the hand withall,
(A French deuice, nay sure a Spanish tricke)
And speake in Print, and say loe at your call,
I will remaine, your owne both dead and quicke:
A Courtier so, can giue a lobbe a licke,
And dresse a dolt, in Motley for a while,
And so in sleeue, at silly Woodcocke smile,
(A French deuice, nay sure a Spanish tricke)
And speake in Print, and say loe at your call,
I will remaine, your owne both dead and quicke:
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And dresse a dolt, in Motley for a while,
And so in sleeue, at silly Woodcocke smile,
If meaning went, with painted wordes and shoes,
It might suffice such courteous cheare to tast:
But with the same, disdaine and enuie goes.
And trumpry great, with wind and wordes in wast,
Then arme in arme, comes flattery full in hast,
And leads away, the sences out of frame,
That vpright wits, are thereby striken lame.
It might suffice such courteous cheare to tast:
But with the same, disdaine and enuie goes.
And trumpry great, with wind and wordes in wast,
Then arme in arme, comes flattery full in hast,
And leads away, the sences out of frame,
That vpright wits, are thereby striken lame.
This lowting lowe, and bowing downe the knee,
But gropes mens mindes, to creepe in credits lap,
Like malte horse then, he holdes vp head you see
That late before, could vaile both knee and cap,
The Nurse a while, can feede the child with pap,
And after beate him on the breech full bare,
A swarme God wot, of these fine Natures are.
But gropes mens mindes, to creepe in credits lap,
Like malte horse then, he holdes vp head you see
That late before, could vaile both knee and cap,
The Nurse a while, can feede the child with pap,
And after beate him on the breech full bare,
A swarme God wot, of these fine Natures are.
There be that bites, yet gronts and whines withall,
There be that winnes, yet sweare and say they lose,
There be that stops, and steales away the ball,
There be that plantes, a weede and plucks a rose,
There be pleads want, to whome the fountaine floes
Such hides their haps, to make the world to thinke,
At faire well head, they need not for to drinke,
There be that winnes, yet sweare and say they lose,
There be that stops, and steales away the ball,
There be that plantes, a weede and plucks a rose,
There be pleads want, to whome the fountaine floes
Such hides their haps, to make the world to thinke,
At faire well head, they need not for to drinke,
The whales you see, eates vp the little fish,
The pretie Penk, with Sammon may not swime,
The greatest heades, are fed with finesh dish,
The foulest pits, faire water runneth trime.
He gets the gaine that standeth neere the brime,
He blowes the cole, that hath cold fingers still,
He starues for bread, that hath no corne at mill.
The pretie Penk, with Sammon may not swime,
The greatest heades, are fed with finesh dish,
The foulest pits, faire water runneth trime.
He gets the gaine that standeth neere the brime,
He blowes the cole, that hath cold fingers still,
He starues for bread, that hath no corne at mill.
A world to see the course and state of thinges,
Some would get vp, that knows not where to light:
Some soer the skies, that neuer had no winges,
Some wrastle well, by cunning not by might.
Some seemes to iudge, faire coulours without sight.
And euery one, with some odde shift or grace,
In world at will, runnes out a goodly race.
Some would get vp, that knows not where to light:
Some soer the skies, that neuer had no winges,
Some wrastle well, by cunning not by might.
167
And euery one, with some odde shift or grace,
In world at will, runnes out a goodly race.
But to be plaine, I lag and come behinde,
As I were lame, and had a broken leg:
Or else I cannot, lye within the winde,
And hearken still, what I might easely beg,
I neede not say, in mouth I haue geg.
For I haue spoke, and sped in matters small,
By helpe of him, that hath my verses all.
As I were lame, and had a broken leg:
Or else I cannot, lye within the winde,
And hearken still, what I might easely beg,
I neede not say, in mouth I haue geg.
For I haue spoke, and sped in matters small,
By helpe of him, that hath my verses all.
But farre God wot, I am from that to seeke,
And misse the marke, that many men doe hit:
Wherefore salt teares, doe trickle downe the cheeke,
And heart doth feele, full manie a woefull fitt.
And so aside, in solempne sorrow sit.
As one indeede, that is forsaken cleane,
Where most he doth deserue, and best doth meane.
And misse the marke, that many men doe hit:
Wherefore salt teares, doe trickle downe the cheeke,
And heart doth feele, full manie a woefull fitt.
And so aside, in solempne sorrow sit.
As one indeede, that is forsaken cleane,
Where most he doth deserue, and best doth meane.
No matter now, though each man march and treade
On him that hates, the life he beares about:
Yet such as shall, these heauie Uerses reade,
Shall finde I blame, my fortune out of doubt,
But since on hope, no better hap will sprout.
I yeld to death, and vpward lift the minde,
Where lothsome life, shall present comfort finde.
On him that hates, the life he beares about:
Yet such as shall, these heauie Uerses reade,
Shall finde I blame, my fortune out of doubt,
But since on hope, no better hap will sprout.
I yeld to death, and vpward lift the minde,
Where lothsome life, shall present comfort finde.
Since hope can haue, no honey from the Hiue,
And paines can plucke, no pleasure for his toyle:
It is but vaine, for wearie life to striue,
And stretch out time, with torment and tormoyle,
Get what we can, death triumphes ore the spoyle.
Then note this well, though wee winne neere so mitch,
When death takes all, wee leaue a mizer ritch.
And paines can plucke, no pleasure for his toyle:
It is but vaine, for wearie life to striue,
And stretch out time, with torment and tormoyle,
Get what we can, death triumphes ore the spoyle.
Then note this well, though wee winne neere so mitch,
When death takes all, wee leaue a mizer ritch.
To liue and lacke, is double death indeede,
A present death, exceedes a lingring woe:
Since no good hap, in youth did helpe my neede,
In age why should, I striue with Fortune so,
Did yeares are come, and hastes me hence to goe.
The time drawes on, I hate the life I haue,
When heart shall breake, my griefe shall ende in graue,
A present death, exceedes a lingring woe:
Since no good hap, in youth did helpe my neede,
In age why should, I striue with Fortune so,
Did yeares are come, and hastes me hence to goe.
168
When heart shall breake, my griefe shall ende in graue,
Should I seeke life, that findes no place of rest,
Ne soyle, nor seate, to shroude me from the ayre:
When cramping cold, beclyps my carefull breast,
And dolour driues, my heart in deepe dispayre,
For such foule dayes, darke death is wonderous fayre.
As good to make, the scrawling wormes a feast,
As please the world, where mischiefe makes her neast.
Ne soyle, nor seate, to shroude me from the ayre:
When cramping cold, beclyps my carefull breast,
And dolour driues, my heart in deepe dispayre,
For such foule dayes, darke death is wonderous fayre.
As good to make, the scrawling wormes a feast,
As please the world, where mischiefe makes her neast.
Hie time it is, to haste my carkasse hence,
Youth stole awaie, and felt no kinde of ioy:
And age he left, in trauell euer since,
The wanton dayes, that made mee nice and coy,
Were but a dreame, a shadowe and a toy.
Sith slauerie heere, I find and nothing else,
My home is there, where soule in freedome dwels.
Youth stole awaie, and felt no kinde of ioy:
And age he left, in trauell euer since,
The wanton dayes, that made mee nice and coy,
Were but a dreame, a shadowe and a toy.
Sith slauerie heere, I find and nothing else,
My home is there, where soule in freedome dwels.
In warres and woe, my yeares are wasted cleane,
What should I see, if Lordly life I led:
I looke in glasse, and finde my cheekes so leane,
That euery houre, I doe but wish mee dead,
Now backe bendes downe, and forward falls the head,
And hollow eyes, in wrinkled brow doth shroude,
As though two starres, were creeping vnder cloude.
What should I see, if Lordly life I led:
I looke in glasse, and finde my cheekes so leane,
That euery houre, I doe but wish mee dead,
Now backe bendes downe, and forward falls the head,
And hollow eyes, in wrinkled brow doth shroude,
As though two starres, were creeping vnder cloude.
The lips waxe cold, and lookes both pale and thin,
The teeth fals out, as nuts forsoke the shale:
The bare bald-head, but shewes where haire hath bin,
The liuely ioyntes, waxe verie stiffe and stale,
The ready tongue, now folters in his tale.
The wearish face, and tawney colour showes,
The courage quayles as strength decaies and goes.
The teeth fals out, as nuts forsoke the shale:
The bare bald-head, but shewes where haire hath bin,
The liuely ioyntes, waxe verie stiffe and stale,
The ready tongue, now folters in his tale.
The wearish face, and tawney colour showes,
The courage quayles as strength decaies and goes.
The sweete delights are drownde in dulled mind,
The gladsome sportes, to groning sighes are bent,
The frisking limmes, so farre from frame I finde,
That I forethinke, the time that youth hath spent,
But when I waigh, that all these thinges were lent,
And I must pay, the earth her dutie throw,
I shrinke no whit, to yelde these pleasures now.
The gladsome sportes, to groning sighes are bent,
The frisking limmes, so farre from frame I finde,
That I forethinke, the time that youth hath spent,
But when I waigh, that all these thinges were lent,
And I must pay, the earth her dutie throw,
169
Had I possest, the giftes of Fortune heere,
A house, a wife, and Children therewithall:
And had in store, (to make my friendes good cheere)
Such common thinges, as neighbours haue at call,
In such dispayre, perchaunce I would not fall.
But want of this, and other lackes a score,
Bids mee seeke death, and wish to liue no more.
A house, a wife, and Children therewithall:
And had in store, (to make my friendes good cheere)
Such common thinges, as neighbours haue at call,
In such dispayre, perchaunce I would not fall.
But want of this, and other lackes a score,
Bids mee seeke death, and wish to liue no more.
The thatcher hath, a cottage poore you see,
The sheapheard knowes, where he shall sleepe at night,
The dayly drudge, at night can quiet bee,
Thus Fortune sendes, some rest to euery wight.
So borne I was, to house and land by right.
But in a bagg, to Court I brought the same,
From Shrewsburie towne, a seate of auncient fame.
The sheapheard knowes, where he shall sleepe at night,
The dayly drudge, at night can quiet bee,
Thus Fortune sendes, some rest to euery wight.
So borne I was, to house and land by right.
But in a bagg, to Court I brought the same,
From Shrewsburie towne, a seate of auncient fame.
What thinkes my friendes, that there behind I laft,
What fault findes shee, that gaue me life and sucke:
O courting fine, thou art too cold a craft,
The Carter hath, at home much better lucke,
Well well I say, adue all worldly mucke.
Ne house nor Land, we beare away I knoe,
I naked came, and naked hence must goe.
What fault findes shee, that gaue me life and sucke:
O courting fine, thou art too cold a craft,
The Carter hath, at home much better lucke,
Well well I say, adue all worldly mucke.
Ne house nor Land, we beare away I knoe,
I naked came, and naked hence must goe.
The greatest King, must passe the selfe same way,
Our day of birth, and buriall are alike:
Their ioy, their pompe, their wealth and rich aray,
Shall soone consume, like snow that lies in dike,
No Buckler serues, when soddaine death doth strike.
As soone may come, a poore mans soule to blis,
As may the rich, or greatest Lord that is.
Our day of birth, and buriall are alike:
Their ioy, their pompe, their wealth and rich aray,
Shall soone consume, like snow that lies in dike,
No Buckler serues, when soddaine death doth strike.
As soone may come, a poore mans soule to blis,
As may the rich, or greatest Lord that is.
Well ere my breath, my body doe forsake,
My sprite I do, bequeath to God aboue:
My bookes, my scroules, and songes that I did make,
I leaue with friendes, that freely me did loue,
To [illeg.] foes, whose malice me did moue.
I wishe in hast, amendment of their waies,
And to the Court, and courtiers happy daies.
My sprite I do, bequeath to God aboue:
My bookes, my scroules, and songes that I did make,
I leaue with friendes, that freely me did loue,
To [illeg.] foes, whose malice me did moue.
I wishe in hast, amendment of their waies,
And to the Court, and courtiers happy daies.
170
My fortune straunge, to straungers do I leaue,
That straungly can, retaine such straunge mishap:
To such as still, in world did me deceaue,
I wish they may, beware of such like trap,
To slaunderous tongues, that killde me with a clap.
I wish more rest, than they haue giuen to mee,
And blesse those shreawes, that curst and crabbed bee.
That straungly can, retaine such straunge mishap:
To such as still, in world did me deceaue,
I wish they may, beware of such like trap,
To slaunderous tongues, that killde me with a clap.
I wish more rest, than they haue giuen to mee,
And blesse those shreawes, that curst and crabbed bee.
To such as yet, did neuer pleasure man,
I giue those rimes, that nips the gawled backe:
To such as would, doe good and if they can,
I wish good lucke, long life, and voyde of lacke,
To currish Karles, a whyp and Colliers sacke.
And to the proude, that stands vppon their braues,
A wainscot face, and twentie crabtree staues.
I giue those rimes, that nips the gawled backe:
To such as would, doe good and if they can,
I wish good lucke, long life, and voyde of lacke,
To currish Karles, a whyp and Colliers sacke.
And to the proude, that stands vppon their braues,
A wainscot face, and twentie crabtree staues.
To surlie sirs, that scornes the meaner sort,
A nightcap furd, with Foynes I them bequeath:
To such as scowle, at others good report.
(And sets much store, by their owne paynted sheat)
In signe of lucke, I giue a willow wreath,
To such as are, vnnamde, and merits much,
The stone I leaue, that tries the Gold by tutch,
A nightcap furd, with Foynes I them bequeath:
To such as scowle, at others good report.
(And sets much store, by their owne paynted sheat)
In signe of lucke, I giue a willow wreath,
To such as are, vnnamde, and merits much,
The stone I leaue, that tries the Gold by tutch,
To gentill race, with good conditions ioynd,
I wish more ioy, than man imagin may:
And since for poore, I haue noe mony coynd,
God graunt them all a mery mariage day,
To such as doth delight in honest play.
I wish the Gold, that I haue lost thereby,
And all the wealth, I want before I die.
I wish more ioy, than man imagin may:
And since for poore, I haue noe mony coynd,
God graunt them all a mery mariage day,
To such as doth delight in honest play.
I wish the Gold, that I haue lost thereby,
And all the wealth, I want before I die.
Now friends shake handes, I must be gone my boyes,
Our mirth takes end, our triumph all is done:
Our tykling talke, our sportes and merry toyes,
Do slide away, like shadowe of the Sun,
Another comes, when I my race haue run.
Shall passe the time, with you in better plite,
And finde good cause, of greater thinges to write.
Our mirth takes end, our triumph all is done:
Our tykling talke, our sportes and merry toyes,
Do slide away, like shadowe of the Sun,
Another comes, when I my race haue run.
Shall passe the time, with you in better plite,
And finde good cause, of greater thinges to write.
FINIS.
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