The complete works of John Lyly now for the first time collected and edited from the earliest quartos with life, bibliography, essays, notes and index by R. Warwick Bond |
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 | The complete works of John Lyly |  |
V. Later Autobiographical: 1595–1600?
54.
[Where wardes are weake, and foes encountering strong]
Where wardes are weake, and foes encountering strong:
Wher mightier doe assault, then do defend:
The feebler part puts vp enforced wrong,
And silent sees, that speach could not amend.
Yet higher powers must thinke though they repine,
When Sunne is set: the litle starres will shine.
Wher mightier doe assault, then do defend:
The feebler part puts vp enforced wrong,
And silent sees, that speach could not amend.
Yet higher powers must thinke though they repine,
When Sunne is set: the litle starres will shine.
While Pike doth range, the silly Tench doth flye,
And crouch in priuie creekes, with smaler fish:
Yet Pikes are caught when litle fish goe bye:
These, fleete a flote; while those, doe fill the dish.
There is a tyme euen for the wormes to creepe:
And sucke the dew while all their foes doe sleepe.
And crouch in priuie creekes, with smaler fish:
Yet Pikes are caught when litle fish goe bye:
These, fleete a flote; while those, doe fill the dish.
There is a tyme euen for the wormes to creepe:
And sucke the dew while all their foes doe sleepe.
The Marlyne cannot euer sore on high,
Nor greedie Grey-hound still pursue the chase:
The tender Larke will fynde a tyme to flie,
And fearfull Hare to runne a quiet race.
He that high growth on Ceders did bestow:
Gaue also lowly Mushrumpts leaue to grow.
Nor greedie Grey-hound still pursue the chase:
The tender Larke will fynde a tyme to flie,
And fearfull Hare to runne a quiet race.
He that high growth on Ceders did bestow:
Gaue also lowly Mushrumpts leaue to grow.
Wee trample grasse, and prize the flowers of May:
Yet grasse is greene, when flowers do fade away.
Yet grasse is greene, when flowers do fade away.
492
55.
[Al ye whō loue or fortune hath betraide]
Al ye whō loue or fortune hath betraide,
All ye that dreame of blisse but liue in greif,
Al ye whose hopes are euermore delaid,
Al ye whose sighes or sicknes wants releife:
Lend eares and teares to me most haples man,
That sings my sorrowes like the dying Swanne.
All ye that dreame of blisse but liue in greif,
Al ye whose hopes are euermore delaid,
Al ye whose sighes or sicknes wants releife:
Lend eares and teares to me most haples man,
That sings my sorrowes like the dying Swanne.
Care that consumes the heart with inward paine,
Paine that presents sad care in outward vew,
Both tyrant like enforce me to complaine,
But still in vaine, for none my plaints will rue,
Teares, sighes, and ceaseles cries alone I spend,
My woe wants comfort, and my sorrow end.
Paine that presents sad care in outward vew,
Both tyrant like enforce me to complaine,
But still in vaine, for none my plaints will rue,
Teares, sighes, and ceaseles cries alone I spend,
My woe wants comfort, and my sorrow end.
56.
[Come heauy sleepe, ye Image of true death]
Come heauy sleepe, ye Image of true death:
And close vp these my weary weeping eyes,
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vitall breath,
And tears my hart with sorrows sigh swoln crys:
Com & posses' my tired thoghts, worne soule,
That liuing dies, till thou on me be stoule.
And close vp these my weary weeping eyes,
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vitall breath,
And tears my hart with sorrows sigh swoln crys:
Com & posses' my tired thoghts, worne soule,
That liuing dies, till thou on me be stoule.
Come shadow of my end: and shape of rest,
Alied to death, child to this black fast night,
Come thou and charme these rebels in my brest,
Whose waking fancies doth my mind affright.
O come sweet sleepe, come or I die for euer,
Come ere my last sleepe coms, or [else] come neuer.
Alied to death, child to this black fast night,
Come thou and charme these rebels in my brest,
Whose waking fancies doth my mind affright.
O come sweet sleepe, come or I die for euer,
Come ere my last sleepe coms, or [else] come neuer.
57. Concerninge his suit & attendaūce at ye Courte.
Moste miserable man, whom̄e wretched fatehath brought to Court, to sue for Had-I-wist:
that few haue found, & many one haue mist.
Full little knowest thou, that hast not tride
what Hell it is, in suinge longe to bide.
To loose good dayes, that mighte be better spent,
to waste longe nightes in pensiue discontent,
493
Now fedd wth hope, now Crost wth wailfull sorrow
To haue thy Princes grace yet want hir Peeres,
to haue thy askinge, yet waite many yeres.
To frett thy soule with Crosses & wth cares,
to eat thy hart wth Comfortless dispaires:
To fawne, to crouche, to waite, to bide, to run:
To spend, to giue, to want, to be vndon.
Vnhappy wighte, borne to disastrous end:
That doth his life, in so longe tendance spend.
Pereunt nil pariunt Anni, verte
58.
[The thundringe God whose all-embracinge powre]
The thundringe God whose all-embracinge powre
Circles ye modell of this spatious rounde
When first he fram'd old Adams earthly bowre
ordain'd all thinges th' Emperiall vaile doth bound
Should lend their aide to others mutuallie
but all combinde serue man continuallie.
Circles ye modell of this spatious rounde
When first he fram'd old Adams earthly bowre
ordain'd all thinges th' Emperiall vaile doth bound
Should lend their aide to others mutuallie
but all combinde serue man continuallie.
So heau'n wth heate, the dankish aire wth dew
this solid element of Earth reuiue
with gentle warm'th & robes of verdant hew
on wch ye horned Kyne & sheepe do liue
And as those bodies ministred their good
So they againe do turne to humane foode.
this solid element of Earth reuiue
with gentle warm'th & robes of verdant hew
on wch ye horned Kyne & sheepe do liue
And as those bodies ministred their good
So they againe do turne to humane foode.
Man seru'd of all, seru'd none of all but God
but mighte his pleasures take wthout controule
Saue onely what Jehouah had forbod
the carefull Soueraigne of his simple soule.
This was ye age wise Poets term'd of gold
for liberty in dearest prize they holde.
but mighte his pleasures take wthout controule
Saue onely what Jehouah had forbod
the carefull Soueraigne of his simple soule.
This was ye age wise Poets term'd of gold
for liberty in dearest prize they holde.
But theis succeedinge Seasons arm'd in steele,
Tramples hir downe & in tryumphant sorte
Not fearinge like contempts of fate to feele
Leades hir as Captiue, mate to poorest sorte
Yet Patience promis'd Liberty distrest
should reape for paine, a gayne, for vnrest, rest.
Tramples hir downe & in tryumphant sorte
Not fearinge like contempts of fate to feele
Leades hir as Captiue, mate to poorest sorte
Yet Patience promis'd Liberty distrest
should reape for paine, a gayne, for vnrest, rest.
Wch Prophesy of hirs indeede mighte serue
for a perswation that my seruice don̄e
would at ye length enfranchisemt deserue
wth aunswr to mine expectation.
But when I thinke twas Patience yt spoke
the golden vessell of my hope is broke.
for a perswation that my seruice don̄e
494
wth aunswr to mine expectation.
But when I thinke twas Patience yt spoke
the golden vessell of my hope is broke.
For she's a Sainte & scorninge vniust earth
is fledd to heau'n. All vertues are ingros't
In Gods owne hand, tis yt wch breedes ye dearth
of due rewardes, & makes my labour lost
Or at ye moste repaies my louinge minde
wth large delayes, vaine wordes & som̄e vnkinde.
is fledd to heau'n. All vertues are ingros't
In Gods owne hand, tis yt wch breedes ye dearth
of due rewardes, & makes my labour lost
Or at ye moste repaies my louinge minde
wth large delayes, vaine wordes & som̄e vnkinde.
Since then ye first worlde can not be recald
nor this our rusty Iron age refinde
Since Patience is in starry heau'n instald
Let euery Seruitour beare this in minde
That howsoeu'r he serue, obserue, deserue
if nought but Aire he purchase he may sterue.
nor this our rusty Iron age refinde
Since Patience is in starry heau'n instald
Let euery Seruitour beare this in minde
That howsoeu'r he serue, obserue, deserue
if nought but Aire he purchase he may sterue.
Sarrire quam seruire satius.
59. [THE BEE.]
It was a tyme when silly Bees could speake
and in that time I was a silly Bee
who suckt on time, vntill the hart gan breake
yet never founde that tyme would fauour me
Of all the swarme I onely could not thriue
yet brought I wax & honey to ye hiue
and in that time I was a silly Bee
who suckt on time, vntill the hart gan breake
yet never founde that tyme would fauour me
Of all the swarme I onely could not thriue
yet brought I wax & honey to ye hiue
Then thus I busd when time no sap would giue
Why is this blessed tyme to me so dry
Sith in this tyme, ye lazie Drone doth liue
ye waspe, ye worme, ye Gnat, ye butterfly
Mated wth greif I kneeled on my knees
And thus complain'd vnto ye King o[f] Bees
Why is this blessed tyme to me so dry
Sith in this tyme, ye lazie Drone doth liue
ye waspe, ye worme, ye Gnat, ye butterfly
Mated wth greif I kneeled on my knees
And thus complain'd vnto ye King o[f] Bees
My leige god grant thy time may haue no end
and yet vouchsafe to heare my plaint of tyme
Synce every fruitlesse fly hath found a freind
& I cast downe while Attomies doe clyme
The king replide but thus, peace peevish Bee
Thou art borne to serve the time, ye time not thee
and yet vouchsafe to heare my plaint of tyme
495
& I cast downe while Attomies doe clyme
The king replide but thus, peace peevish Bee
Thou art borne to serve the time, ye time not thee
The time not thee, this word clipt short my wings
And made me worme-like creepe yt once did fly
Awfull regard disputeth not wth kings
Receauethe a Repulse not asking why?
Then from the tyme, I for a tyme wthdrew
To feed on Henbane, Hemlock, Nettles, Rue,
And made me worme-like creepe yt once did fly
Awfull regard disputeth not wth kings
Receauethe a Repulse not asking why?
Then from the tyme, I for a tyme wthdrew
To feed on Henbane, Hemlock, Nettles, Rue,
But from those leaues no dram of sweete I drayne
their head strong furry did my head bewitch
The iuice disperst black bloud in every veine
for hony gall, for wax I gathered pitch
My Combe a Rift, my hiue a leafe must bee
so chang'd; that Bees scarce took me for a Bee
their head strong furry did my head bewitch
The iuice disperst black bloud in every veine
for hony gall, for wax I gathered pitch
My Combe a Rift, my hiue a leafe must bee
so chang'd; that Bees scarce took me for a Bee
I work on weedes when Moone is in ye waine
whilst all ye swarme in sunnshine tast ye rose
onn black Roote ferne I sitt & sucke my baine
whilst on ye Eglentine the rest repose
haueing too much they still repine for more
& cloyd wth fullnes surfeit on yeir store
whilst all ye swarme in sunnshine tast ye rose
onn black Roote ferne I sitt & sucke my baine
whilst on ye Eglentine the rest repose
haueing too much they still repine for more
& cloyd wth fullnes surfeit on yeir store
Swolne fatt wth feasts full merrily they passe
In sweetned Clusters falling from ye tree
where finding me to nibble on ye grasse
some scorne, some muse, & some doe pitty me
And some envy & whisper to the king
Some must be still & some must haue no sting
In sweetned Clusters falling from ye tree
where finding me to nibble on ye grasse
496
And some envy & whisper to the king
Some must be still & some must haue no sting
Are Bees waxt waspes, or spiders to infect
Doe hony bowells make ye sperit gall
Is this ye iuce of flowers to stir suspect
Ist not enought to tread on them that fall
what sting hath patience but a sighing grief
That sting[s] nought but itselfe wthout Relief
Doe hony bowells make ye sperit gall
Is this ye iuce of flowers to stir suspect
Ist not enought to tread on them that fall
what sting hath patience but a sighing grief
That sting[s] nought but itselfe wthout Relief
True patience ye prouender of fooles
sad patience that waiteth at the doore
Patience yt learnes thus to conclude in schools
Patience I am therefore I must be poore
Great king of Bees yt rightest euery wrong
Listen to patience in her dying song
sad patience that waiteth at the doore
Patience yt learnes thus to conclude in schools
Patience I am therefore I must be poore
Great king of Bees yt rightest euery wrong
Listen to patience in her dying song
I cannot feed on fennell like some flyes
nor fly to euery flower to gather gaine
myne appetite waites on my prince his eyes
Contented with contempt, & pleased wth payne
and yet expecting of an happy houre
when he shall say this Bee shall suck a flower
nor fly to euery flower to gather gaine
myne appetite waites on my prince his eyes
Contented with contempt, & pleased wth payne
and yet expecting of an happy houre
when he shall say this Bee shall suck a flower
Of all the greifes yt must my patience grate
there's one that fretteth in ye high'st degree
To see some Catterpillers bred vp of late
cropping the fruit yt should sustaine ye Bee
yet smiled I, for yt the wisest knowes
that mothes doe frett ye Clothe Canker ye Rose
there's one that fretteth in ye high'st degree
To see some Catterpillers bred vp of late
cropping the fruit yt should sustaine ye Bee
yet smiled I, for yt the wisest knowes
that mothes doe frett ye Clothe Canker ye Rose
497
Once did I see by flying in the feild
fowle beasts to browse vpon ye Lilly fayre
Virtue & beauty could noe succour yeild
All's prouender for Asses, but the ayre
the partiall world of this takes litle heed
to giue them flowers yt should on thistles feed
fowle beasts to browse vpon ye Lilly fayre
Virtue & beauty could noe succour yeild
All's prouender for Asses, but the ayre
the partiall world of this takes litle heed
to giue them flowers yt should on thistles feed
This onely I must draine Ægiptian flowers
haueing noe sauor, bitter sap they haue
& seeke out Rotten Tombes & dead mens bowers
and bite on nightshade growing by the graue
If this I cannot haue, as hapless Bee
witching Tobacco I will fly to thee
haueing noe sauor, bitter sap they haue
& seeke out Rotten Tombes & dead mens bowers
and bite on nightshade growing by the graue
If this I cannot haue, as hapless Bee
witching Tobacco I will fly to thee
what thoughe thou dy mens lungs in deepest black
A mourning habitt suites a sable hart
what if thy fumes sound memory doe crack
fforgettfullnes is fittest for my smart
ô vertuous fume let it be graued in oke
yt wordes, hopes, witts & all ye worlds but smoke
A mourning habitt suites a sable hart
what if thy fumes sound memory doe crack
fforgettfullnes is fittest for my smart
ô vertuous fume let it be graued in oke
yt wordes, hopes, witts & all ye worlds but smoke
ffiue yeares twise told wth promises prfume
my hope stuft head was cast into a slumber
Sweete dreames of gold, on dreames I then prsume
& mongst ye Bees thoughe I were in ye number
waking I founde, hiues hopes had made me vaine
Twas not Tobacco stupifyed ye braine
my hope stuft head was cast into a slumber
Sweete dreames of gold, on dreames I then prsume
& mongst ye Bees thoughe I were in ye number
waking I founde, hiues hopes had made me vaine
Twas not Tobacco stupifyed ye braine
Ingenium, studium, nummos, spem, tempus, amicos
Cum male perdiderim: perdere verba leue est.
498
60.
[In Thesaly, ther Asses fine are kept]
In Thesaly, ther Asses fine are kept,fayre, smoth, plump, fat and full:
The mangers they are fild, ye stables clenly swept
And yet their pace is very slow and dull.
So sotes oft tymes haue vnto honour crept,
when wiser men haue hadd a coulder pull,
If Asses haue such luck what shall I say?
Let Scollers burne their bookes & goe to play.
finis.
61.
[As oft we see before a sudden showre]
As oft we see before a sudden showre,The sunne shines hottest & hath greatest powre:
Euen so whom fortune meaneth to deride,
She liftes a loft, from whence he soone may slide.
62.
[Princes be fortunes children, & with them]
Princes be fortunes children, & with themshe deales as mothers vse their babes to still:
Vnto her darlings giues a diadem,
A pretie toy their humor to fulfill.
And when a little they haue had their will,
Looke what she gaue she taketh at her pleasure:
Vsinge the rod, when they are out of measure.
63.
[Ouer theis brookes, trustinge to ease myne eyes]
Ouer theis brookes, trustinge to ease myne eyes,
Mine eyes euen great, in laboure with their teares:
I layde my face, wherin (alas) ther lies,
Clusters of clowdes, wch no Sunne euer cleeres.
In watrie glasse, my watrie eyes I see:
Sorrowes ill easd, wher sorrowes paynted be.
Mine eyes euen great, in laboure with their teares:
I layde my face, wherin (alas) ther lies,
Clusters of clowdes, wch no Sunne euer cleeres.
In watrie glasse, my watrie eyes I see:
Sorrowes ill easd, wher sorrowes paynted be.
My thoughtes imprisned in my secret woes,
With flamie breastes doe issue oft in sownde:
The sownde to this strange ayre no sooner goes,
But that it doth with Ecchôs force rebownde.
And makes me heare, ye playntes I would refrayne:
Thus outward helpes, my inward grifes mayntayne.
With flamie breastes doe issue oft in sownde:
The sownde to this strange ayre no sooner goes,
But that it doth with Ecchôs force rebownde.
And makes me heare, ye playntes I would refrayne:
Thus outward helpes, my inward grifes mayntayne.
Now in this sand, I would discharge my mynde,
And cast from me, part of my burd'nous cares:
But in the sand, my Tales foretold I fynde,
And see therin, how well ye writer fares.
With streame, ayre, sand, myne eyes & ears conspire:
What hope to quench, wher ech thinge blowes ye fire.
And cast from me, part of my burd'nous cares:
499
And see therin, how well ye writer fares.
With streame, ayre, sand, myne eyes & ears conspire:
What hope to quench, wher ech thinge blowes ye fire.
64.
[Why ------]
Why ------
When life is my true happinesse disease?
My soule, my soule, thy saftie makes me flie
The fault is meanes, that might my payne appease. [OMITTED]
But in my hart her seuerall tormentes dwell.
When life is my true happinesse disease?
My soule, my soule, thy saftie makes me flie
The fault is meanes, that might my payne appease. [OMITTED]
But in my hart her seuerall tormentes dwell.
Ah worthlesse witt to traine mee to this woe,
Deceiptfull arts that nourish discontent:
Ill thriue the follie that bewitcht me so,
Vaine though[t]s adieu for now I will repent.
And yet my wantes perswade me to proceed,
Since none takes pittie one a Scholers need.
Deceiptfull arts that nourish discontent:
Ill thriue the follie that bewitcht me so,
Vaine though[t]s adieu for now I will repent.
And yet my wantes perswade me to proceed,
Since none takes pittie one a Scholers need.
forgiue me God althought I curse my birth,
And ban the ayre wherin I breath a wreatch:
Since miserie hath daunted all my mirth,
And I am quite vndon through promis[e breach]
Oh frendes, no frendes that then vn[kind]ly frowne,
When changing fortune casts vs headlong downe.
And ban the ayre wherin I breath a wreatch:
Since miserie hath daunted all my mirth,
And I am quite vndon through promis[e breach]
Oh frendes, no frendes that then vn[kind]ly frowne,
When changing fortune casts vs headlong downe.
Without redresse complains my carelesse Verse,
And Mydas eares relent not at my moane
In some farr land will I my griefe rehearse,
Mongst them that wilbee mooued when I groane,
Ingland adieu the soyle that brought mee forth
Adieu vnkinde where skill is no[t]hing worth.
And Mydas eares relent not at my moane
In some farr land will I my griefe rehearse,
Mongst them that wilbee mooued when I groane,
Ingland adieu the soyle that brought mee forth
Adieu vnkinde where skill is no[t]hing worth.
65.
[Some mē will saye there is a kynde of muse]
Some mē will saye there is a kynde of muse
That healps the mynde of eache man to indyte
And some will saye (that oft these Muses vse)
There are but Nyne that euer vsed to wryte
Now of these nyne if I haue hytt on one
I muse what Muse 'tis I haue hytt vpon.
That healps the mynde of eache man to indyte
And some will saye (that oft these Muses vse)
There are but Nyne that euer vsed to wryte
Now of these nyne if I haue hytt on one
I muse what Muse 'tis I haue hytt vpon.
500
Some poetes wryte there is a heauenly hyll
Wher Pallas keeps: and it Pernassus hyghte
There Muses sit for-sothe, and cut the quyll
That beinge framde doth hidden fancyes wryte
But all these dames diuyne conceyts do synge
And all theyr penns be of a phœnix winge.
Wher Pallas keeps: and it Pernassus hyghte
There Muses sit for-sothe, and cut the quyll
That beinge framde doth hidden fancyes wryte
But all these dames diuyne conceyts do synge
And all theyr penns be of a phœnix winge.
Beleeue me now I neuer sawe the place
Vnless in sleepe I drem'de of suche a thynge
I neauer vewed fayre Pallas in the face
Nor neauer yet could heare the Muses synge
Wherby to frame a fancye in her kynde
Oh no! my muse is of an other mynde.
Vnless in sleepe I drem'de of suche a thynge
I neauer vewed fayre Pallas in the face
Nor neauer yet could heare the Muses synge
Wherby to frame a fancye in her kynde
Oh no! my muse is of an other mynde.
From Hellicon? no no from Hell she came
To wryte of woes and myseryes[:] she hyghte
Not Pallas but Alass hir Ladyes name
Who neuer calles for dittyes of delyghte.
Her pen̄ is Payne; and all her matter moane
And pantynge harts she paynts her mynd vpon.
To wryte of woes and myseryes[:] she hyghte
Not Pallas but Alass hir Ladyes name
Who neuer calles for dittyes of delyghte.
Her pen̄ is Payne; and all her matter moane
And pantynge harts she paynts her mynd vpon.
A harte not Harpe is all her instrumēt
Whose weakned strynges all out of tune she strayns
And than she strikes a dumpe of discontente
Tyll euery strynge be pluckt in two with paynes
Than in a rage she clapps it vpp in Case:
That you maye see her instruments disgrace.
Whose weakned strynges all out of tune she strayns
And than she strikes a dumpe of discontente
Tyll euery strynge be pluckt in two with paynes
Than in a rage she clapps it vpp in Case:
That you maye see her instruments disgrace.
Her musick is in sum̄ but sorrowes songe
Wher discorde yealds a sound of small delyghte
The dittye is: o lyfe that lastes so longe
To see desyre thus crossed wth despyte
No faythe on earth: alas I know no frende!
So with a syghe she makes a solem̄ ende.
Wher discorde yealds a sound of small delyghte
The dittye is: o lyfe that lastes so longe
To see desyre thus crossed wth despyte
No faythe on earth: alas I know no frende!
So with a syghe she makes a solem̄ ende.
Vnpleasant is the harmony godd knowes
When out of tune is allmost euery strynge
The sownde vnsweet, yt all of sorrow growes
And sadd the muse, that so is fourced to synge
Yet some do synge that else for woe would crye
So dothe mye Muse: and so, I sweare, do I.
When out of tune is allmost euery strynge
The sownde vnsweet, yt all of sorrow growes
And sadd the muse, that so is fourced to synge
Yet some do synge that else for woe would crye
So dothe mye Muse: and so, I sweare, do I.
Finis.
501
66.
[Lie downe poore heart and die a while for griefe]
Lie downe poore heart and die a while for griefe,
Thinke not this world will euer do thee good,
Fortune forewarnes ȳ looke to thy reliefe,
And sorrow sucks vpon thy liuing bloud,
Then this is all can helpe thee of this hell,
Lie downe and die, and then thou shalt doe well.
Thinke not this world will euer do thee good,
Fortune forewarnes ȳ looke to thy reliefe,
And sorrow sucks vpon thy liuing bloud,
Then this is all can helpe thee of this hell,
Lie downe and die, and then thou shalt doe well.
Day giues his light but to thy labours toyle,
And night her rest but to thy weary bones,
Thy fairest fortune followes with a foyle:
And laughing endes but with thine after grones.
And this is all can helpe thee of thy hell,
Lie downe and die and then thou shalt doe well.
And night her rest but to thy weary bones,
Thy fairest fortune followes with a foyle:
And laughing endes but with thine after grones.
And this is all can helpe thee of thy hell,
Lie downe and die and then thou shalt doe well.
Patience doth pine and pitty ease no paine,
Time weares the thoughts but nothing helps ye mind,
Dead and aliue aliue and dead againe:
These are the fits that thou art like to finde.
And this is all can helpe thee of thy hell,
Lie downe and die and then thou shalt doe well.
Time weares the thoughts but nothing helps ye mind,
Dead and aliue aliue and dead againe:
These are the fits that thou art like to finde.
And this is all can helpe thee of thy hell,
Lie downe and die and then thou shalt doe well.
67.
[Life is a Poets fable]
Life is a Poets fable,
& al her daies are lies
Stolne from deaths reckoning table,
For I die as I speake,
Death times the notes that I doe breake.
& al her daies are lies
Stolne from deaths reckoning table,
For I die as I speake,
Death times the notes that I doe breake.
Childhood doth die in youth,
And youth in old age dies,
I thought I liu'd in truth:
But I die, now I see,
Each age of death makes one degree.
And youth in old age dies,
I thought I liu'd in truth:
But I die, now I see,
Each age of death makes one degree.
Farewell the doting score
Of worlds arithmeticke,
Life, Ile trust thee no more,
Till I die, for thy sake,
Ile go by deaths new almanacke.
Of worlds arithmeticke,
Life, Ile trust thee no more,
Till I die, for thy sake,
Ile go by deaths new almanacke.
This instant of my song,
A thousand men lie sicke,
A thousand knels are rong:
And I die as I sing,
They are but dead and I dying.
A thousand men lie sicke,
A thousand knels are rong:
502
They are but dead and I dying.
Death is but lifes decay,
Life time, time wastes away,
Then reason bids me say,
That I die, though my breath
Prolongs this space of lingring death.
Life time, time wastes away,
Then reason bids me say,
That I die, though my breath
Prolongs this space of lingring death.
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