A poore Knight his Pallace of priuate pleasures Gallantly garnished, with goodly Galleries of strang inuentio[n]s and prudently polished, with sundry pleasant Posies, & other fine fancies of dainty deuices, and rare delightes. Written by a student in Ca[m]bridge. And published by I. C. Gent |
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Foure of the poore Knights complaints made as hee hath declared,
in great greefe of harte, applyed to sundry theames.
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 | A poore Knight his Pallace of priuate pleasures |  |
Foure of the poore Knights complaints made as hee hath declared, in great greefe of harte, applyed to sundry theames.
The fyrst complaynt.
Longe
haue I wept alone, for sorrow and for care,
My hart hath long been plunged in paine, greefe, and distresse:
Awake yee fatall Dames, and helpe for to declare,
Bewaile with mee which weepe, the fate of my successe,
For Fortunes crooked chance, hath broke my dolefull hart,
And fate it selfe hath sworne, to worke my greefe and smart:
I beare that heauy hap, which all men ought to weepe,
My soule is prisoner still, and care my hart doth keepe.
And yet my greefe finde no auayle,
I sulke in seas without a sayle:
I row about with euery winde,
My helme is an vnquiet minde.
My hart hath long been plunged in paine, greefe, and distresse:
Awake yee fatall Dames, and helpe for to declare,
Bewaile with mee which weepe, the fate of my successe,
For Fortunes crooked chance, hath broke my dolefull hart,
And fate it selfe hath sworne, to worke my greefe and smart:
I beare that heauy hap, which all men ought to weepe,
My soule is prisoner still, and care my hart doth keepe.
And yet my greefe finde no auayle,
I sulke in seas without a sayle:
I row about with euery winde,
My helme is an vnquiet minde.
A wofull fate.
No loue nor louers lawes, hath caught my hart in snare,
No want of worldly wealth, hath bred so great anoy:
No losse of Fortunes gifte, hath clad my hart with care,
No feare of dinting death, hath banisht perfite ioy:
No frowning force of foes, which doth my life inuade,
Nor want of worthy blood, this heauy hart hath made:
Tis none of these I vow, nor none of these shall bee,
Which haue increast my woe, and banisht ioyfull glee.
But that which hath renewde my mone,
It stickes far nearer to the bone.
Worse gripes of greefe, will make mee cry,
With sorrowing sighes till that I dye.
No loue nor louers lawes, hath caught my hart in snare,
No want of worldly wealth, hath bred so great anoy:
No losse of Fortunes gifte, hath clad my hart with care,
No feare of dinting death, hath banisht perfite ioy:
No frowning force of foes, which doth my life inuade,
Nor want of worthy blood, this heauy hart hath made:
Tis none of these I vow, nor none of these shall bee,
Which haue increast my woe, and banisht ioyfull glee.
But that which hath renewde my mone,
It stickes far nearer to the bone.
Worse gripes of greefe, will make mee cry,
With sorrowing sighes till that I dye.
Alas the while
So shall I quickly fade, and perish quite away,
Which now I gladly wish, and oft haue wisht before:
That this my brittle flesh might perish vnto clay,
And that within the ground, my bones might lye in store:
How happy should I bee, how ioyfull man were I,
Oh gentle death come strike, that I may fade and die:
For life is present death, and death would bring mee life,
And ende my wofull dayes, which I consume in strife.
Graunt this good liuing Lorde I pray,
That as I wish, euen so I may:
Ende this my life, and ende my care,
That in this place I may haue share.
Which now I gladly wish, and oft haue wisht before:
That this my brittle flesh might perish vnto clay,
And that within the ground, my bones might lye in store:
How happy should I bee, how ioyfull man were I,
Oh gentle death come strike, that I may fade and die:
For life is present death, and death would bring mee life,
And ende my wofull dayes, which I consume in strife.
Graunt this good liuing Lorde I pray,
That as I wish, euen so I may:
Ende this my life, and ende my care,
That in this place I may haue share.
Graunt this O Lord.
The seconde complaynt, which plainly bewray the matter of the first.
Onus ætna grauius.
If
Ossa Mount, and Pelion hill, were cast vpon my backe to beare,
And I as strong as Atlas hy, which in his badge ye stares did weare
Or if my taske by payne of death, alotted were to cleane the sea,
Or if to passe by Stigian flood, to vew wheras the blessed bee.
I thinke of truth, and as I gesse,
So shall the truth it selfe come try:
Not halfe the paine I should sustaine,
Come gentle death and let mee dye.
And I as strong as Atlas hy, which in his badge ye stares did weare
Or if my taske by payne of death, alotted were to cleane the sea,
Or if to passe by Stigian flood, to vew wheras the blessed bee.
I thinke of truth, and as I gesse,
So shall the truth it selfe come try:
Not halfe the paine I should sustaine,
Come gentle death and let mee dye.
For since I left my staggering state, and did the cradle milde res[illeg.],
And since to sucke my mothers brest, I did my minde therfro declare
Yea since ye time by mothers deth, I spent my dayes in care & greif
And since that time I thanke my God: of other frends I found releif.
As now I doo and longe haue done,
Yet this by proofe I plainly see:
I finde it so, no care and woe,
Like to a troubled minde can bee.
And since to sucke my mothers brest, I did my minde therfro declare
Yea since ye time by mothers deth, I spent my dayes in care & greif
And since that time I thanke my God: of other frends I found releif.
As now I doo and longe haue done,
Yet this by proofe I plainly see:
I finde it so, no care and woe,
Like to a troubled minde can bee.
A troubled minde is cause of payne, a quiet spirit reuiueth ioyes,
A quiet minde increaseth myrth, a troubled minde the same did royes
Then if yt Ioue would kil the cause, yt care no doubt should fade away,
And yet my care cannot depart, while yt the troubled minde doth stay.
And thus I dare in breefe conclude,
No carking care that euer I finde:
Upon the mould, I dare bee bolde,
Is like vnto the troubled minde.
A quiet minde increaseth myrth, a troubled minde the same did royes
Then if yt Ioue would kil the cause, yt care no doubt should fade away,
And yet my care cannot depart, while yt the troubled minde doth stay.
And thus I dare in breefe conclude,
No carking care that euer I finde:
Upon the mould, I dare bee bolde,
Is like vnto the troubled minde.
The thirde complaint.
Sit erracti medicina confessio.
Ah
, ah, my hart, my hart, my hart, my hart,
What pincking panges? what danger doost thou feele?
I see my freends, haue lefte to take my part,
My hart, my hart, can not my greefe conceale:
My pen hath sworne, my matter to reueale,
Perforce my hands, these scribled lines did write,
And wished some meanes my trespasse to requite.
What pincking panges? what danger doost thou feele?
I see my freends, haue lefte to take my part,
My hart, my hart, can not my greefe conceale:
My pen hath sworne, my matter to reueale,
Perforce my hands, these scribled lines did write,
And wished some meanes my trespasse to requite.
What shall I say? what shall I take in hand?
My minde is dull, my braine is battered sore,
My eyes bee dimme, where trickling teares doo stand:
My soule hath sobbed, my hart can sighe no more,
But now beholde, your mercy and implore:
I craue for grace, and pardon for my crime,
Condempe mee not, before my allotted time.
My minde is dull, my braine is battered sore,
My eyes bee dimme, where trickling teares doo stand:
My soule hath sobbed, my hart can sighe no more,
But now beholde, your mercy and implore:
I craue for grace, and pardon for my crime,
Condempe mee not, before my allotted time.
But try agayne, and see what frutes shall flow,
No labor lost, no trauell shall bee spent:
Bee willing then, some mercy for to show,
To him that hath, a minde for to repent:
Kill not the frutes, of such a good intent,
And when the like, you shall in mee detect,
Then shake your hand, and pay mee for neglect.
No labor lost, no trauell shall bee spent:
Bee willing then, some mercy for to show,
To him that hath, a minde for to repent:
Kill not the frutes, of such a good intent,
And when the like, you shall in mee detect,
Then shake your hand, and pay mee for neglect.
And this is all, and more then all I thinke,
Yea this is all I purposed to wright:
Then saue the ship, which voyde of hope must sinke,
And lye a pray, vnto the Ocians might:
The day in sighes, in teares I spend the night,
Then stay my teares, release mee of my paine,
I haue confest, and doo recant againe.
Yea this is all I purposed to wright:
Then saue the ship, which voyde of hope must sinke,
And lye a pray, vnto the Ocians might:
The day in sighes, in teares I spend the night,
Then stay my teares, release mee of my paine,
I haue confest, and doo recant againe.
The fourth complaint of this, and of the thirde I can set no true cause of wrighting, for the poore Knight hath denyed to tell it.
Pyraustæ interitus.
As
doth the Fly, whose life the fier maintaines,
Giue vp the breath, when fier is take her fro:
Or as the worme, within the snow remaines,
Yeeld vp the life, when shee from snow doth go:
Alas the while, so happeneth it to mee,
For heat and colde, haue been my great delight:
What greefe is this, that I must distant bee?
From out the place, wherof I haue my might?
Come denting death, come strike the ende of strife,
Pyraustæ shee, is weary of her life.
Giue vp the breath, when fier is take her fro:
Or as the worme, within the snow remaines,
Yeeld vp the life, when shee from snow doth go:
Alas the while, so happeneth it to mee,
For heat and colde, haue been my great delight:
What greefe is this, that I must distant bee?
From out the place, wherof I haue my might?
Come denting death, come strike the ende of strife,
Pyraustæ shee, is weary of her life.
Farewell to thee, which gaue mee breath and blood,
Farewell to thee, which did maintaine my state:
Farewell to thee, in whom my pleasure stood,
Farewell to thee, which diddest prolonge my fate:
For why? the snow is melted with the sunne,
And flashing fier, is quenched out with raine:
The fates haue sayd, short bee thy daies to runne,
From whence thou camest, thou shalt returne againe:
Come venting death, come strike the ende of strife,
Pyraustæ shee, is weary of her life.
Farewell to thee, which did maintaine my state:
Farewell to thee, in whom my pleasure stood,
Farewell to thee, which diddest prolonge my fate:
For why? the snow is melted with the sunne,
And flashing fier, is quenched out with raine:
The fates haue sayd, short bee thy daies to runne,
From whence thou camest, thou shalt returne againe:
Come venting death, come strike the ende of strife,
Pyraustæ shee, is weary of her life.
So goeth my time, so runs my fickle race,
And all is gone, nothing is left in store:
Imbrued with teares, I must bewayle my case,
I wish for death, what should I looke for more:
For sith the aydes which did prolonge my strength,
Bee fled from feelde, and banished from coast,
With willing hart, I yeeld to him at length:
Which coms to call whom I desired most.
Come denting death, come strike the ende of strife.
Pyrausta shee, is weary of her life.
And all is gone, nothing is left in store:
Imbrued with teares, I must bewayle my case,
I wish for death, what should I looke for more:
For sith the aydes which did prolonge my strength,
Bee fled from feelde, and banished from coast,
With willing hart, I yeeld to him at length:
Which coms to call whom I desired most.
Come denting death, come strike the ende of strife.
Pyrausta shee, is weary of her life.
| A poore Knight his Pallace of priuate pleasures | |