 | "Songes and Sonettes written by the ryght honorable
Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other" |  |
Tottel — Songes and Sonettes — 1557 Vncertain auctors. by uncertain authors
If euer wofull man
The complaint of a louer with sute to his loue for pitye.
If euer wofull man might moue your hartes to ruthe,Good ladies here his woful plaint, whose deth shal try his truth
And rightfull iudges be on this his true report:
If he deserue a louers name among the faithfull sort.
Fiue hundred times the sonne hath lodged him in the West:
Since in my hart I harbred first of all the goodlyest gest.
Whose worthinesse to shew my wittes are all to faint.
And I lack cunnyng of the scoles, in colours her to paynt.
But this I briefly say in wordes of egall weight.
So void of vice was neuer none, nor with such vertues freyght.
And for her beauties prayse, no wight, that with her warres.
For, where she comes, she shewes her self as sonne amo[n]g [the] starres.
But Lord, thou wast to blame, to frame such parfitenesse:
And puttes no pitie in her hart, my sorowes to redresse.
For yf ye knew the paynes, and panges, that I haue past:
A wonder would it be to you, how that my life hath last.
When all the Goddes agreed, that Cupide with his bow
Should shote his arrowes fro[m] her eies, on me his might to show
I knew it was in vain my force to trust vpon:
And well I wist, it was no shame, to yelde to such a one.
Then did I me submit with humble hart, and minde,
To be her man for euermore: as by the Goddes assinde.
And since that day, no wo, wherwith loue might torment,
Could moue me fro[m] this faithfull band: or make me once repent.
Yet haue I felt full oft the hottest of his fire:
The bitter teares, the scalding sighes, the burning hote desyre.
And with a sodain sight the trembling of the hart:
And how the blood doth come, and go, to succour euery part.
When that a pleasant loke hath lift me in the ayer:
A frowne hath made me fall as fast into a depe despayer.
And when that I, er this, my tale could well by hart:
And that my tong had learned it, so that no worde might start:
The sight of her hath set my wittes in such a stay:
That to be lord of all the world, one word I could not say.
And many a sodayn cramp my hart hath pinched so:
Q1v
That for the time, my senses all felt neither weale, nor wo.
Yet saw I neuer thing, that might my minde content:
But wisht it hers, and at her will, if she could so consent.
Nor neuer heard of wo: that did her will displease:
But wisht the same vnto my self, so it might do her ease.
Nor neuer thought that fayre, nor neuer liked face:
Vnlesse it did resemble her, or some part of her grace.
No distance yet of place could vs so farre deuide:
But that my hert, and my good will did still with her abide.
Nor yet it neuer lay in any fortunes powre,
To put that swete out of my thought, one minute of an howre.
No rage of drenching sea, nor woodenesse of the winde,
Nor canno[n]s w[ith] their thundryng cracks could put her fro[m] my minde
For when bothe sea and land asunder had vs set:
My hole delite was onely then, my self alone to get.
And thitherward to loke, as nere as I could gesse:
Where as I thought, that shee was then, [that] might my wo redresse.
Full oft it did me good, that waies to take my winde:
So pleasant ayre in no place els, me thought I could not finde.
I saying to my self, my life is yonder waye:
And by the winde I haue here sent, a thousand sighes a daye.
And sayd vnto the sunne, great gifts are geuen thee:
For thou mayst see mine earthly blisse, where euer that she bee.
Thou seest in euery place, wold God I had thy might:
And I the ruler of my self, then should she know no night.
And thus from wish to wishe my wits haue been at strife:
And wantyng all that I haue wisht, thus haue I led my life.
But long it can not last, that in such wo remaines.
No force for that: for death is swete to him, that feles such paines.
Yet most of all me greues: when I am in my graue,
That she shall purchase by my death a cruell name to haue.
Wherfore all you that heare this plaint, or shall it see:
Wish, that it may so perce her hert, that she may pitie mee.
For and it were her will: for bothe it were the best,
To saue my life, to kepe her name, and set my hert at rest.
Who iustly may reioyce
Of the death of master Deuerox the lord Ferres sonne.
Q2r
As life, or lands: as frends, or frutes: which only liue to dye.
Or who dothe not well know all worldly works are vaine?
And geueth nought but to the lendes, to take the same againe.
For though it lift some vp: as wee long vpward all:
Such is the sort of slipper welth: all things do rise to fall.
Thuncertentie is such: experience teacheth so:
That what things men do couet most, them sonest they forgo.
Lo Deuorox where he lieth: whose life men heeld so deare
That now his death is sorowed so, that pitie it is to heare.
His birth of auncient blood: his parents of great fame:
And yet in vertue farre before the formost of the same.
His king, and countrye bothe he serued to so great gaine:
That with the Brutes record doth rest, and euer shall remaine.
No man in warre so mete, an enterprise to take:
No man in peace that pleasurd more of enmies frends to make.
A Cato for his counsell: his head was surely such.
Ne Theseus frenship was so great, but Deuorox was as much.
A graffe of so small grothe so much good frute to bring:
Is seldome heard, or neuer sene: it is so rare a thing.
A man sent vs from God, his life did well declare:
And now sent for by god again, to teach vs what we are.
Death, and the graue, that shall accompany all that liue,
Hath brought hi[m] heue[n], though so[m]ewhat sone, which life could neuer geue
God graunt well all, that shall professe as he profest:
To liue so well, to dye no worse: and send his soule good rest.
If right be rackt
They of the meane estate are happiest.
If right be rackt, and ouerronne:And power take part with open wrong:
If fear by force do yelde to soone,
The lack is like to last to long.
If God for goodes shalbe vnplaced:
If right for riches lose his shape:
If world for wisdome be embraced:
The gesse is great, much hurt may happe.
Among good things, I proue and finde,
The quiet life dothe most abound:
Q2v
And sure to the contented minde
There is no riches may be found.
For riches hates to be content:
Rule is enmy to quietnesse.
Power is most part impacient:
And seldom likes to liue in pease.
I hard a herdman once compare:
That quiet nightes he had mo slept:
And had mo mery daies to spare:
Then he, which ought the beastes, he kept.
I would not haue it thought hereby
The dolphin swimme I meane to teach:
Nor yet to learne the Fawcon flie:
I rowe not so farre past my reache.
But as my part aboue the rest,
Is well to wish and well to will:
So till my breath shall fail my brest,
I will not ceasse to wish you styll.
The lyfe is long
Comparison of lyfe and death.
The lyfe is long, that lothsumly doth last:The dolefull dayes draw slowly to theyr date:
The present panges, and paynfull plages forepast
Yelde griefe aye grene to stablish this estate.
So that I fele, in this great storme, and strife,
The death is swete that endeth such a life.
Yet by the stroke of this strange ouerthrow,
At which conflict in thraldom I was thrust:
The Lord be praysed: I am well taught to know,
From whence man came, and eke whereto he must:
And by the way vpon how feble force
His term doth stand, till death doth end his course.
The pleasant yeres that seme, so swifte that runne:
The mery dayes to end, so fast that flete:
The ioyfull nightes, of which day daweth so soone:
The happy howers, which mo do misse, then mete,
Doe all consume: as snow against the sunne:
And death wakes end of all, that life begunne.
Q3r
Since death shall dure, tyll all the world be wast.
What meaneth man to drede death then so sore?
As man might make, that life should alway last.
Without regard, the lord hath led before
The daunce of death, which all must runne on row:
Though how, or when, the lord alone doth know.
If man would minde, what burdens life doth bring:
What greuous crimes to god he doth commit:
What plages, what panges, what perilles therby spring:
With no sure hower in all his dayes to sit:
He would sure think, as with great cause I do:
The day of death were better of the two.
Death is a port, wherby we passe to ioy,
Life is a lake, that drowneth all in pain.
Death is so dere, it ceaseth all annoy.
Life is so leude, that all it yeldes is vayn.
And as by life to bondage man is braught:
Euen so likewise by death was fredome wraught.
Wherfore with Paul let all men wish, and pray
To be dissolude of this foule fleshy masse:
Or at the least be armed against the day:
That they be found good souldiers, prest to passe
From life to death: from death to life agayn
To such a life, as euer shall remain.
In Grece somtime
The tale of Pigmalion with conclusion vpon the beautye of his loue.
In Grece somtime there dwelt a man of worthy fame:To graue in stone his connyng was: Pygmalio[n] was his name.
To make his fame endure, when death had him bereft:
He thought it good, of his owne hand some filed work were left.
In secrete studie then such work he gan deuise,
As might his conning best commend, and please the lokers eyes.
A courser faire he thought to graue, barbd for the field:
And on his back a semely knight, well armd with speare & shield:
Orels some foule, or fish to graue he did deuise:
And still, within his wandering thoughtes, new fansies did aryse.
Q3v
Thus varyed he in mynde, what enterprise to take:
Till fansy moued his learned hand a woman fayre to make.
Whereon he stayde, and thought such parfite fourm to frame:
Whereby he might amaze all Greece, and winne immortall name.
Of Yuorie white he made so faire a woman than:
That nature scornd her perfitnesse so taught by craft of man.
Welshaped were her lyms, full cumly was her face:
Eche litle vayn most liuely coucht, eche part had semely grace.
Twixt nature, & Pygmalion, there might appeare great stryfe.
So semely was this ymage wrought, it lackt nothyng but life.
His curious eye beheld his own deuised work:
And, gasyng oft thereon, he found much venome there to lurke.
For all the featurde shape so dyd his fansie moue:
That, with his idoll, whom he made, Pygmalion fell in loue.
To whom he honour gaue, and deckt with garlandes swete,
And did adourn with iewels riche, as is for louers mete.
Somtimes on it he fawnd: some time in rage would crye:
It was a wonder to beholde, how fansy bleard his eye.
Since that this ymage dum enflamde so wyse a man:
My dere, alas since I you loue, what wonder is it than?
In whom hath nature set the glory of her name:
And brake her mould, in great dispayre, your like she could not frame.
Lyke as the lark
The louer sheweth his wofull state, and prayeth pitye.
Lyke as the lark within the marlians footeWith piteous tunes doth chirp her yelden lay:
So syng I now, seyng none other boote,
My renderyng song, and to your wyll obey.
Your vertue mountes aboue my force so hye.
And with your beautie seased I am so sure:
That there auails resistance none in me,
But paciently your pleasure to endure
For on your wyll my fansy shall attend:
My lyfe, my death, I put both in your choyce:
And rather had this lyfe by you to end,
Than lyue, by other alwayes to reioyce.
And if your crueltie doe thirst my blood:
Then let it forth, if it may doe you good.
Q4r
The lenger lyfe
Vpon consideracion of the stat
this lyfe he wisheth death. The lenger lyfe, the more offence:The more offence, the greater payn:
The greater payn, the lesse defence:
The lesse defence, the lesser gayn.
The losse of gayn long yll doth trye:
Wherefore come death, and let me dye.
The shorter life, lesse count I fynde:
The lesse account, th e sooner made:
The count soon made, the mercer minde:
The mery minde doth thought euade.
Short lyfe in truth this thing doth trye:
Wherefore come death, and let me dye:
Come gentle death, the ebbe of care,
The ebbe of care, the flood of lyfe,
The flood of lyfe, the ioyfull fare,
The ioyfull fare, the end of strife.
The end of strife, that thing wishe I:
Wherefore come death, and let me dye.
To this my song
The louer that once disdained loue is now become subiect beyng caught in his snare.
To this my song geue eare, who list:And mine intent iudge, as you wyll:
The tyme is cume, that I haue mist,
The thyng, wheron I hoped styll,
And from the top of all my trust,
Myshap hath throwen me in the dust.
The time hath been, and that of late:
My hart and I might leape at large.
And was not shut within the gate
Of loues desyre: nor toke no charge
Of any thyng, that dyd pertain
Q4v
As touching loue in any payn.
My thought was free, my hart was light:
I marked not, who lost, who saught.
I playde by day, I slept by night.
I forced not, who wept, who laught.
My thought from all such thinges was free:
And I my self at libertee.
I toke no hede to tanntes, nor toyes:
As leefe to see them frowne as smile:
Where fortune laught I scorned their ioyes:
I found their fraudes and euery wile.
And to my self oft times I smiled:
To see, how loue had them begiled.
Thus in the net of my conceit
I masked styll among the sort
Of such as fed vpon the bayt,
That Cupide laide for his disport.
Aud euer as I saw them caught:
I them beheld, and therat laught.
Till at the length when Cupide spied
My scornefull will and spitefull vse
And how I past not who was tied.
So that my self might still liue lose:
He set himself to lye in wait:
And in my way he threw a bait.
Such one, as nature neuer made,
I dare well say saue she alone.
Such one she was as would inuade
A hart, more hard then marble stone.
Such one she is, I know, it right,
Her nature made to shew her might.
Then as a man euen in a maze,
When vse of reason is away:
So I began to stare, and gaze.
And sodeinly, without delay,
Or euer I had the wit to loke:
I swalowed vp both bayt, and hoke.
Which daily greues me more and more
By sondry sortes of carefull wo:
And none aliue may salue the sore,
But onely she, that hurt me so.
In whom my life doth now consist,
R1r
To saue or slay me as she list.
But seing now that I am caught,
And bounde so fast, I cannot flee:
Be ye by mine ensample taught,
That in your fansies fele you free.
Despise not them, that louers are:
Lest you be caught within his snare.
The plage is great
Of Fortune, and Fame.
The plage is great, where fortune frownes:One mischief bringes a thousand woes
Where trumpets geue their warlike sownes:
The weake sustain sharp ouerthrowes.
No better life they taste, and fele:
That subiect are to fortunes whele.
Her happy chance may last no time:
Her pleasure threatneth paines to come.
She is the fall of those, that clime:
And yet her whele auanceth some.
No force, where that she hates, or loues:
Her ficle minde so oft remoues.
She geues no gift, but craues as fast.
She soone repentes a thankful dede.
She turneth after euery blast.
She helpes them oft, that haue no nede.
Where power dwelles, and riches rest:
False fortune is a common gest,
Yet some affirm, and proue by skyll:
Fortune is not as fleyng Fame,
She neither can do good, nor yll.
She hath no fourme, yet beares a name.
Then we but striue agaynst the streames,
To frame such toyes on fansies dreames.
If she haue shape, or name alone:
If she do rule, or beare no sway:
If she haue bodie, lief, or none:
Be she a sprite I cannot say.
But well I wot, some cause there is:
That causeth wo, and sendeth blisse.
The cause of thinges I will not blame:
R1v
Lest I offend the prince of peas.
But I may chide, and braule with Fame:
To make her crye, and neuer cease.
To blow the trump within her eares:
That may apease my wofull teares.
O euyll tonges
Against wicked tonges.
O Euyll tonges, which clap at euery winde:Ye slea the quick, and eke the dead defame:
Those that liue well, som faute in them ye fynde.
Ye take no thought, in slaundring theyr good name.
Ye put iust men oft times to open shame.
Ye ryng so loude, ye sound vnto the skyes:
And yet in proofe ye sowe nothyng, but lyes.
Ye make great warre, where peace hath been of long,
Ye bring rich realmes to ruine, and decay.
Ye pluck down right: ye doe enhaunce the wrong.
Ye turne swete myrth to wo, and welaway
Of mischiefes all ye are the grounde, I say.
Happy is he, that liues on such a sort:
That nedes not feare such tonges of false report.
To walke on doubtfull ground
Not to trust to much but beware by others calamaties.
To walke on doubtfull ground, where danger is vnseenDoth double men that carelesse be in depe dispaire I wene,
For as the blynde dothe feare, what footing he shall fynde:
So doth the wise before he speak, mistrust the strangers mynde.
For he that blontly runnes, may light among the breers,
And so be put vnto his plunge where danger least apperes:
The bird that selly foole, doth warn vs to beware,
Who lighteth not on euery bushe, he dreadeth so the snare.
The mouse that shonnes the trap, doth shew what harme doth ly:
Within the swete betraying bait, that oft disceiues the eye.
The fish auoides the hoke, though hunger byds him bite,
And houereth still about the worme, whereon is his delyte.
Yf birdes and beastes can see, where their vndoyng lies:
R2r
How should a mischief scape our heades, [that] haue both wit and eyes.
What madnesse may be more, then plow the barreyn field:
Or any frutefull wordes to sow, to eares that are vnwyld.
They here and than mislyke, they like and than they lothe,
Thei hate, thei loue, thei skorn, thei praise, yea sure thei ca[n] do both
We see what falles they haue, that clyme on trees vnknowne:
As they that truste to rotten bowes, must nedes be ouerthrowne.
A smart in silence kept, doth ease the hart much more,
Than for to plain where is no salue, for to recure the sore.
Wherfore my grief I hide, within a holow hart:
Vntill the smoke thereof be spied, by flaming of the smart.
The restlesse rage
Hell tormenteth not the damned ghostes so sore as vnkindnesse the louer.
The restlesse rage of depe deuouryng hell,The blasing brandes, that neuer do consume,
The roryng route, in Plutoes den that dwell:
The fiery breath, that from those ymps doth fume:
The dropsy dryeth, that Tantale in the flood
Endureth aye, all hopelesse of relief:
He hongersteruen, where frute is ready food:
So wretchedly his soule doth suffer grief:
The liuer gnawne of gylefull Promethus,
Which Vultures fell with strayned talant tyre:
The labour lost of wearyed Sisiphus:
These hellish houndes, with paines of quenchlesse fyre,
Can not so sore the silly soules torment,
As her vntruth my hart hath alltorent.
By fortune as I lay in bed
Of the mutabilitie of the world.
By fortune as I lay in bed, my fortune was to fyndeSuch fa[n]sies, as my carefull thought had brought into my minde
And when eche one was gone to rest, full soft in bed to lye:
I would haue slept: but then the watch did folow still myne eye.
And sodeinly I saw a sea of wofull sorowes prest:
R2v
Whose wicked wayes of sharp repulse bred mine vnquiet rest.
I saw this world: and how it went, eche state in his degree:
And that from wealth ygraunted is, both lyfe, and libertee.
I saw, how enuy it did rayne, and beare the greatest price:
Yet greater poyson is not found within the Cockatrice.
I saw also, how that disdayn oft times to forge my wo,
Gaue me the cup of bitter swete, to pledge my mortall fo.
I saw also, how that desire to rest no place could finde
But styll constrainde in endlesse pain to folow natures kynde.
I saw also most strauuge of all how nature did forsake
The blood, that in her womb was wrought: as doth [the] lothed snake
I saw, how fansy would retayn no lenger then her lust:
And as the winde how she doth change: and is not for to trust.
I saw, how stedfastnesse did fly with winges of often change:
A fleyng birde, but seldom seen, her nature is so strange.
I saw, how pleasant times did passe, as flowers doe in the mede:
To day that ryseth red as rose: to morow falleth ded.
I saw, my tyme how it did runne, as sand out of the glasse.
Euen as eche hower appointed is from tyme, and tyde to passe.
I saw the yeares, that I had spent, and losse of all my gayn:
And how the sport of youthfull playes my foly dyd retayn.
I saw, how that the litle ant in somer still dothe runne
To seke her foode, wherby to liue in winter for to come.
I saw eke vertue, how she sat the threde of life to spinne.
Which sheweth the end of euery work, before it doth beginne.
And when all these I thus beheld with many mo pardy:
In me, me thought, eche one had wrought a parfite proparty.
And then I said vnto my self: a lesson this shalbe
For other: that shall after come, for to beware by me.
Thus, all the night I did deuise, which way I might constrayn.
To fourme a plot, that wit might work these branches in my brain.
Phylida was a fayer mayde
Harpelus complaynt of Phillidaes loue bestowed on Corin, who loued her not and denied him, that loued her.
Phylida was a fayer mayde,And fresh as any flowre:
R3r
Whom Harpalus the herdman prayed
To be his paramour.
Harpalus and eke Corin
Were herdmen both yfere:
And Phillida could twist and spin
And therto sing full clere.
But Phillida was all to coy
For Harpelus to winne.
For Corin was her onely ioye,
Who forst her not a pynne.
How often would she flowers twine
How often garlandes make:
Of Couslippes and of Colombine,
And all for Corins sake.
But Corin he had haukes to lure
And forced more the field:
Of louers lawe he toke no cure
For once he was begilde.
Harpalus preualed nought
His labour all was lost:
For he was fardest from her thought
And yet he loued her most.
Therfore waxt he both pale and leane
And drye as clot of clay:
His fleshe it was consumed cleane
His colour gone away.
His beard it had not long be shaue,
His heare hong all vnkempt:
A man most fitte euen for the graue
Whom spitefull loue had spent.
His eyes were red and all forewatched
His face besprent with teares:
It semde vnhap had him long hatched.
In middes of his dispayres.
His clothes were blacke and also bare
As one forlorne was he:
Vpon his heade alwaies he ware,
A wreath of wilow tree.
His beastes he kept vpon the hyll,
And he sate in the dale:
And thus with sighes and sorowes shryll,
He gan to tell his tale.
R3v
O Harpelus thus would he say,
Vnhappiest vnder sunne:
The cause of thine vnhappy day
By loue was first begone.
For thou wentest first by sute to seeke
A Tygre to make tame:
That sets not by thy loue a leke
But makes thy grefe her game.
As easye it were, for to conuert
The frost into the flame:
As for to turne a froward hert
Whom thou so fain wouldst frame.
Corin he liueth carelesse
He leapes among the leaues:
He eates the frutes of thy redresse
Thou reapes he takes the sheaues.
My beastes a while your fode refrayne
And herken your herdmans sounde:
Whom spitefull loue alas hath slaine
Throughgirt with many a wounde.
Oh happy be ye beastes wilde
That here your pasture takes:
I se that ye be not begylde
Of these your faythfull face.
The Hart he fedeth by the Hynde
The Bucke hard by the Doo,
The Turtle Doue is not vnkinde
To him that loues her so.
The Ewe she hath by her the Ramme
The yong Cow hath the Bulle:
The calf with many a lusty lamme
Do feede their honger full.
But wellaway that nature wrought
Thee Phillida so faire:
For I may say that I haue bought
Thy beauty all to deare.
What reason is it that cruelty
With beauty should haue part,
Or els that such great tyranny
Should dwell in womans hart.
I see therfore to shape my death
She cruelly is prest:
R4r
To thend that I may want my breathe
My dayes been at the best.
O Cupide graunt this my request
And do not stoppe thine eares:
That she may fele within her brest
The paynes of my dispayres.
Of Corin that is carelesse
That she may craue her fee:
As I haue done in great distresse
That loued her faythfully.
But sins that I shall die her slaue
Her slaue and eke her thrall:
Write you my frendes, vpon my graue
This chance that is befall.
Here lieth vnhappy Harpelus
Whom cruell loue hath slayne:
By Phillida vniustly thus
Murdred with false disdaine.
Lo here the end of man
Vpon sir Iames wilfordes death.
Lo here the end of man the cruell sisters threeThe web of Wilfords life vnethe had half ysponne,
When rash vpon misdede they all accorded bee
To breke vertues course er half the race were ronne
And trip him on his way that els had won the game
And holden highest place within the house of fame.
But yet though he be gone, though sence with him be past
Which trode the euen steppes that leaden to renowne
We that remaine aliue ne suffer shall to waste
The fame of his deserts, so shall he lose but sowne.
The thing shall aye remaine, aye kept as freshe in store
As if his eares shold ring of that he wrought before.
Waile not therfore his want sith he so left the stage
Of care and wretched life, with ioye and clap of hands
Who plaieth lenger partesmay well haue greater age
But few so well may passe the gulfe of fortunes sandes
So triedly did he treade ay prest at vertues beck
That fortune found no place to geue him once a check.
R4v
The fates haue rid him hence, who shall not after go,
Though earthed be his corps, yet florish shall his fame,
A gladsome thing it is that er he step vs fro,
Such mirrours he vs left our life therby to frame,
Wherfore his praise shall last aye freshe in Brittons sight,
Till sunne shall cease to shine, and lende the earth his light.
Who list to liue vpright
Of the wretchednes in this world.
Who list to liue vpright, and holde him self content,Shall se such wonders in this world, as neuer erst was sent.
Such gropyng for the swete, such tastyng of the sower
Such wandryng here for wordly welth that lost is in one houre.
And as the good or badde gette vp in hye degre,
So wades the world in right or wrong it may none other be.
And loke what lawes they make, ech man must them obay,
And yoke himself with pacient hart to driue and draw [the] way.
For such as long ago, great rulers were assinde
Both liues & lawes are now forgot & worne clene out of minde
So that by this I se, no state on earth may last
But as their times appointed be, to rise and fall as fast.
The goodes that gotten be, by good and iust desart,
Yet vse them so that neady handes may helpe to spend the part
For loke what heape thou hordst, of rusty golde in store,
Thine enemies shall waste the same, that neuer swat therfore.
Vnto the liuyng Lord
The repentant sinner in durance and aduersitie.
Vnto the liuyng Lord for pardon do I pray,From who[m] I graunt euen fro[m] the shell, I haue run styl astray.
And other liues there none (my death shall well declare)
On whom I ought to grate for grace, as faulty folkes do fare.
But thee O Lorde alone, I haue offended so,
That this small scourge is much to scant for mine offence I know
I ranne without returne, the way the world liekt best
And what I ought most to regard, that I respected lest
The throng wherin I thrust, hath throwen me in such case
S1r
That Lorde my soule is sore beset without thy greater grace
My giltes are growen so great, my power doth so appayre
That with great force they argue oft, and mercy much dispayre.
But then with fayth I flee to thy prepared store
Where there lieth help for euery hurt, and salue for euery sore.
My loste time to lament, my vaine waies to bewaile,
No day no night no place no houre no moment I shal faile
My soule shall neuer cease with an assured faith
To knock, to craue, to call to cry to thee for helpe which sayth
Knocke and it shalbe heard, but aske and geuen it is
And all that like to kepe this course, of mercy shall not misse
For when I call to minde how the one wandryng shepe,
Did bring more ioye with his returne, then all the flocke did kepe.
It yeldes full hope and trust my strayed and wandryng ghost
Shalbe receiued and held more dere then those were neuer lost.
O Lord my hope beholde, and for my helpe make haste
To pardon the forpassed race that carelesse I haue past.
And but the day draw neare that death must pay the det,
For lone of life which thou hast lent and time of payment set.
From this sharpe shower me shilde which threatened is at hand,
Wherby thou shalt great power declare & I the storme withstand.
Not my will lord but thyne, fulfilde be in ech case,
To whose gret wil & mighty power al powers shal once geue place
My fayth my hope my trust, my God and eke my guide
Stretch forth thy hand to saue the soule, what so the body bide.
Refuse not to receiue that thou so dere hast bought,
For but by thee alone I know all safety in vaine is sought.
I know and knowledge eke albeit very late,
That thou it is I ought to loue and dreade in ech estate.
And with repentant hart do laude thee Lord on hye,
That hast so gently set me straight, that erst walkt so awry.
Now graunt me grace my God to stand thine strong in sprite,
And let [the] world the[n] work such wayes, as to the world semes mete.
Sythe singyng gladdeth
The louer here telleth of his diuers ioyes and aduersities in loue and lastly of his ladies death.
Sythe singyng gladdeth oft the hartesOf them that fele the panges of loue:
S1v
And for the while doth ease their smartes:
My self I shall the same way proue.
And though that loue hath smit the stroke,
Wherby is lost my libertie:
Which by no meanes I may reuoke:
Yet shall I sing, how pleasantly.
Ny twenty yeres of youth I past:
Which all in libertie I spent:
And so from fyrst vnto the last,
Er aught I knew, what louing ment.
And after shall I syng the wo,
The payne, the greefe, the deadly smart:
When loue this lyfe did ouerthrowe,
That hydden lyes within my hart.
And then, the ioyes, that I did feele.
When fortune lifted after this,
And set me hye vpon her whele:
And changed my wo to pleasant blisse,
And so the sodeyn fall agayne
From all the ioyes, that I was in.
All you, that list to heare of payne,
Geue eare, for now I doe beginne.
Lo, fyrst of all, when loue began
With hote desyres my heart to burne:
Me thought, his might auailde not than
From libertie my heart to turne.
For I was free: and dyd not knowe,
How much his might mannes hert may greue.
I had profest to be his fo:
His law I thought not to beleue.
I went vntyed in lusty leas,
I had my wish alwayes at will:
Ther was no wo, might me displease:
Of pleasant ioyes I had my fill.
No paynfull thought dyd passe my hart:
I spilt no teare to wet my brest:
I knew no sorow, sigh, nor smart.
My greatest grefe was quyet rest.
I brake no slepe, I tossed not:
Nor dyd delyte to syt alone.
I felt no change of colde, and hote:
Nor nought a nightes could make me mone.
S2r
For all was ioy that I did fele:
And of voide wandering I was free.
I had no clogge tied at my hele:
This was my life at libertie.
That yet me thinkes it is a blisse,
To thinke vpon that pleasure past.
But forthwithall I finde the misse,
For that it might no lenger last.
Those dayes I spent at my desire,
Without wo or aduersitie:
Till that my hart was set a fire,
With loue, with wrath, and ielousie.
For on a day (alas the while)
Lo, hear my harme how it began:
The blinded Lord, the God of guile
Had list to end my fredome than.
And through mine eye into my hart,
All sodenly I felt it glide.
He shot his sharped fiery dart,
So hard, that yet vnder my side
The head (alas) dothe still remaine,
And yet since could I neuer know,
The way to wring it out againe:
Yet was it nye three yere ago.
This soden stroke made me agast:
And it began to vexe me sore.
But yet I thought, it would haue past,
As other such had done before.
But it did not that (wo is me)
So depe imprinted in my thought,
The stroke abode: that yet I see,
Me thynkes my harme how it was wrought.
Kinde taught me streight that this was loue
And I perceiued it perfectlye.
Yet thought I thus: Nought shall me moue:
I will not thrall my libertie.
And diuers waies I did assay,
By flight, by force, by frend, by fo,
This fyrye thought to put away.
I was so lothe for to forgo
My libertie: that me was leuer,
Then bondage was, where I heard saie:
S2v
Who once was bounde, was sure neuer
Without great paine to scape away.
But what for that, there is no choyce,
For my mishap was shapen so:
That those my dayes that did reioyce,
Should turne my blisse to bitter wo.
For with that stroke my blisse toke ende.
In stede wherof forthwith I caught,
Hotte burnyng sighes, that sins haue brend,
My wretched hart almost to naught.
And sins that day, O Lord my life
The misery that it hath felt.
That nought hath had, but wo and strife,
And hotte desires my hart to melt.
O Lord how sodain was the change
From such a pleasant liberty?
The very thraldome semed strange:
But yet there was no remedy.
But I must yeld, and geue vp all,
And make my guide my chiest fo.
And in this wise became I thrall.
Lo loue and happe would haue it so.
I suffred wrong and helde my peace,
I gaue my teares good leaue to ronne:
And neuer would seke for redresse,
But hopt to liue as I begonne.
For what it was that might me ease,
He liued not that might it know.
Thus dranke I all mine owne disease:
And all alone bewailde my wo.
There was no sight that might mee please,
I fled from them that did reioyce.
And oft alone my hart to ease,
I would bewayle with wofull voyce
My life, my state, my miserie,
And curse my selfe and all my dayes.
Thus wrought I with my fantasie,
And sought my helpe none other waies.
Saue sometime to my selfe alone,
When farre of was my helpe God wot:
Lowde would I cry: My life is gone,
My dere, if that ye helpe me not.
S3r
Then wisht I streight, that death might end
These bitter panges, and all this grief.
For nought, methought, might it amend.
Thus in dispaire to haue relief,
I lingred forth: tyll I was brought
With pining in so piteous case:
That all, that saw me, sayd, methought:
Lo, death is painted in his face.
I went no where: but by the way
I saw some sight before mine eyes:
That made me sigh, and oft times say:
My life, alas I thee despyse.
This lasted well a yere, and more:
Which no wight knew, but onely I:
So that my life was nere forlore:
And I dispaired vtterly.
Tyll on a day, as fortune would:
(For that, that shalbe, nedes must fall)
I sat me down, as though I should
Haue ended then my lyfe, and all.
And as I sat to wryte my plaint,
Meaning to shew my great vnrest:
With quaking hand, and hart full faint,
Amid my plaintes, among the rest,
I wrote with ynk, and bitter teares:
I am not myne, I am not mine:
Behold my lyfe, away that weares:
And if I dye the losse is thyne.
Herewith a litle hope I caught:
That for a whyle my life did stay.
But in effect, all was for naught.
Thus liued I styll: tyll on a day,
As I sat staring on those eyes:
I meane, those eyes, that first me bound:
My inward thought tho cryed: Aryse:
Lo, mercy where it may be found.
And therewithall I drew me nere:
With feble hart, and at a braide,
(But it was softly in her eare)
Mercy, Madame, was all, I sayd.
But wo was me, when it was tolde.
For therewithall fainted my breath.
S3v
And I sate still for to beholde,
And heare the iudgement of my death.
But loue nor Hap would not consent,
To end me then, but welaway:
There gaue me blisse: that I repent
To thinke I liue to see this day.
For after this I playned still
So long, and in so piteous wise:
That I my wish had at my will
Graunted, as I would it deuise.
But Lord who euer heard, or knew
Of halfe the iove that I felt than?
Or who can thinke it may be true,
That so much blisse had euer man?
Lo, fortune thus set me aloft:
And more my sorowes to releue,
Of pleasant ioyes I tasted oft:
As much as loue or happe might geue.
The sorowes olde, I felt before
About my hart, were driuen thence:
And for eche greefe, I felt afore,
I had a blisse in recompence.
Then thought I all the time well spent:
That I in plaint had spent so long.
So was I with my life content:
That to my self I sayd among.
Sins thou art ridde of all thine yll:
To showe thy ioyes set forth thy voyce.
And sins thou hast thy wish at will:
My happy hart, reioyce, reioyce.
Thus felt I ioyes a great deale mo,
Then by my song may well be tolde:
And thinkyng on my passed wo,
My blisse did double many folde.
And thus I thought with mannes blood,
Such blisse might not be bought to deare.
In such estate my ioyes then stode:
That of a change I had no feare.
But why sing I so long of blisse?
It lasteth not, that will away,
Let me therfore bewaile the misse:
And sing the cause of my decay.
S4r
Yet all this while there liued none,
That led his life more pleasantly:
Nor vnder hap there was uot one,
Me thought, so well at ease, as I.
But O blinde ioye, who may thee trust?
For no estate thou canst assure?
Thy faithfull vowes proue all vniust:
Thy faire behestes be full vnsure.
Good proufe by me: that but of late
Not fully twenty dayes ago:
Which thought my life was in such state:
That nought might worke my hart this wo.
Yet hath the enemy of my ease,
Mishappe I meane, that wretched wight:
Now when my life did moste me please:
Deuised me such cruel spight.
That from the hiest place of all,
As to the pleasyng of my thought,
Downe to the deepest am I fall,
And to my helpe auaileth nought,
Lo, thus are all my ioyes gone:
And I am brought from happinesse,
Continually to waile, and mone.
Lo, such is fortunes stablenesse.
In welth I thought such suretie,
That pleasure should haue ended neuer.
But now (alas) aduersitie,
Doth make my singyng cease for euer.
O brittle ioye, O slidyng blisse,
O fraile pleasure, O welth vnstable:
Who feles thee most, he shall not misse
At length to be made miserable.
For all must end as doth my blisse:
There is none other certentie.
And at the end the worst is his,
That most hath knowen prosperitie.
For he that neuer blisse assaied,
May well away with wretchednesse:
But he shall finde that hath it sayd,
A paine to part from pleasantnesse:
As I doe now, for er I knew
What pleasure was: I felt no griefe,
S4v
Like vnto this, and it is true,
That blisse hath brought me all this mischiefe.
But yet I haue not songen, how
This mischiefe came: but I intend
With wofull voice to sing it now:
And therwithall I make an end.
But Lord, now that it is begoon,
I feele, my sprites are vexed sore.
Oh, geue me breath till this be done:
And after let me liue no more,
Alas, the enmy of my life,
The ender of all pleasantnesse:
Alas, he bringeth all this strife,
And causeth all this wretchednesse.
For in the middes of all the welth,
That brought my hart to happinesse:
This wicked death he came by stelthe,
And robde me of my ioyfulnesse.
He came, when that I little thought
Of ought, that might me vexe so sore:
And sodenly he brought to nought
My pleasantnesse for euermore,
He slew my ioye (alas, the wretch)
He slew my ioye, or I was ware:
And now (alas) no might may stretch
To set an end to my great care.
For by this cursed deadly stroke,
My blisse is lost, and I forlore:
And no help may the losse reuoke:
For lost it is for euermore.
And closed vp are those faire eyes,
That gaue me first the signe of grace:
My faire swete foes, myne enemies,
And earth dothe hide her pleasant face.
The loke which did my life vpholde:
And all my sorowes did confounde:
With which more blisse then may be tolde:
Alas, now lieth it vnder ground.
But cease, for I will syng no more:
Since that my harme hath no redresse:
But as a wretche for euermore,
My life will waste with wretchednesse.
T1r
And ending thys my wofull song,
Now that it ended is and past:
I wold my life were but as long:
And that this word might be my last.
For lothsome is that life (men saye)
That liketh not the liuers minde:
Lo, thus I seke myne owne decaye,
And will, till that I may it finde
Fvll faire and white she is
Of his loue named white.
Fvll faire and white she is, and White by name:Whose white doth striue, the lillies white to staine:
Who may contemne the blast of blacke defame:
Who in darke night, can bring day bright againe.
The ruddy rose inpreaseth, with cleare heew,
In lips, and chekes, right orient to behold:
That the nere gaser may that bewty reew,
And fele disparst in limmes the chilling cold:
For White, all white his bloodlesse face wil be:
The asshy pale so alter will his cheare.
But I that do possesse in full degree
The harty loue of this my hart so deare:
So oft to me as she presents her face,
For ioye do fele my hart spring from his place.
What thing is that
Of the louers vnquiet state.
What thing is that which I bothe haue and lacke,With good will graunted yet it is denyed
How may I be receiued and put abacke
Alway doing and yet vnoccupied,
Most slow in that which I haue most applied,
Still thus to seke, and lese all that I winne,
And that was ready is newest to begyn.
In riches finde I wilfull pouertie,
In great pleasure liue I in heauinesse,
In much freedome I lacke my libertie,
T1v
Thus am I bothe in ioye and in distresse.
And in few wordes, if that I shall be plaine,
In Paradise I suffer all this paine.
It is no fire
where good will is some profe will appere.
It is no fire that geues no heate,Though it appeare neuer so hotte:
And they that runne and can not sweate,
Are very leane and dry God wot.
A perfect leche applieth his wittes,
To gather herbes of all degrees:
And feuers with their feruent fittes,
Be cured with their contraries.
New wine will search to finde a vent,
Although the caske be neuer so strong:
And wit will walke when will is bent,
Although the way be neuer so long.
The rabbets runne vnder the rockes,
The snailes do clime the highest towers:
Gunpowder cleaues the sturdy blockes,
A feruent will all thing deuowers.
When witt e with will and diligent
Apply them selues, and match as mates,
There can no want of resident,
From force defende the castell gates.
Forgetfulnesse makes little haste,
And slouth delites to lye full soft:
That telleth the deaf, his tale dothe waste,
And is full drye that craues full oft.
Alas that euer death
Verses written on the picture of sir Iames wilford.
Alas that euer death such vertues should forlet,As compast was within his corps, whose picture is here set.
Or that it euer laye in any fortunes might,
Through depe disdaine his life to traine [that] was so worthy a wight
T2r
For sith he first began in armour to be clad,
A worthier champion then he was yet Englande neuer had.
And though recure be past, his life to haue againe,
Yet would I wish his worthinesse in writyng to remaine.
That men to minde might call how farre he did excell,
At all assayes to wynne the praise, which were to long to tell.
And eke the restlesse race that he full oft hath runne,
In painfull plight fro[m] place to place, where seruice was to doon
Then should men well perceiue, my tale to be of trouth,
And he to be the worthiest wight that euer nature wrought.
Shall I thus euer long
The ladye praieth the returne of of her louer abidyng on the seas.
Shall I thus euer long, and be no whit the neare,And shal I styll complayn to thee, the which me will not here?
Alas say nay, say nay, and be no more so dome,
But open thou thy manly mouth, and say that thou wilt come.
Wherby my hart may thinke, although I see not thee,
That thou wilt come thy word so sware, if thou a liues man be.
The roaryng hugy waues, they threaten my pore ghost,
And tosse thee vp and downe the seas, in daunger to be lost.
Shall they not make me feare that they haue swalowed thee,
But as thou art most sure aliue so wilt thou come to me.
Wherby I shall go see thy shippe ride on the strande
And thinke and say lo where he comes, and sure here will he land.
And then I shall lift vp to thee my little hande,
And thou shalt thinke thine hert in ease, in helth to se me stand.
And if thou come in dede (as Christ the send to do,)
Those armes which misse thee now shall then imbrace thee to.
Ech vaine to euery ioynt, the liuely bloud shall spred,
Which now for want of thy glad sight, doth show full pale & dead.
But if thou slip thy trouth and do not come at all,
As minutes in the clocke do strike so call for death I shall.
To please bothe thy false hart, and rid my self from wo,
That rather had to dye in trouth then liue forsaken so.
The doutfull man
The meane estate is best.
T2v
And constant hope is oft diseased,
Dispaire can not but brede a change,
Nor fletyng hartes can not be pleasde.
Of all these badde, the best I thinke,
Is well to hope, though fortune shrinke.
Desired thinges are not ay prest,
Nor thinges denide left all vnsought,
Nor new things to be loued best,
Nor all offers to be set at nought,
Where faithfull hart hath bene refusde,
The chosers wit was there abusde.
The woful shyppe of carefull sprite,
Fletyng on seas of wellyng teares,
With sayles of wishes broken quite,
Hangyng on waues of dolefull feares,
By surge of sighes at wrecke nere hand,
May fast no anker holde on land.
What helps the dyall to the blinde,
Or els the clock without it sound,
Or who by dreames dothe hope to finde,
The hidden gold within the ground:
Shalbe as free from cares and feares,
As he that holds a wolfe by the eares.
And how much mad is he that thinkes
To clime to heauen by the beames,
What ioye alas, hath he that winkes,
At Titan or his golden stremes,
His ioyes not subiect to reasons lawes,
That ioyeth more then he hath cause.
For as the Phenix that climeth hye,
The sonne lightly in ashes burneth,
Againe, the Faulcon so quicke of eye,
Sone on the ground the net masheth.
Experience therfore the meane assurance,
Prefers before the doutfull pleasance.
Sith that the way
The louer thinkes no payne to great, wherby he may obtaine his lady.
T3r
And after paynes pleasure prest,
Whie should I than dispaire so.
Ay bewailling mine vnrest,
Or let to lede my liefe in paine,
So worthy a lady to obtayne,
The fisher man doth count no care,
To cast hys nets to wracke or wast,
And in reward of eche mans share,
A gogen gift is much imbrast,
Sould I than grudge it grief or gall,
That loke at length to whelm a whall.
The pore ma[n] ploweth his grou[n]d for graine,
And soweth his seede increase to craue,
And for thexpence of all hys paine.
Oft holdes it hap his seede to saue,
These pacient paines my part do show,
To long for loue er that I know.
And take no skorne to scape from skill,
To spende my spirites to spare my speche,
To win for welth the want of will.
And thus for rest to rage I reche,
Running my race as rect vpright:
Till teares of truth appease my plight.
And plant my plaint within her brest,
Who doubtles may restore againe,
My harmes to helth my ruthe to rest.
That laced is within her chayne,
For earst ne are the grieues so gret:
As is the ioy when loue is met.
For who couets so high to clim,
As doth the birde that pitfoll toke,
Or who delightes so swift to swim.
As doth the fishe that scapes the hoke,
If these had neuer entred woe:
How mought they haue reioysed so.
But yet alas ye louers all,
That here me ioy thus lesse reioyce,
Iudge not amys whatso befall.
In me there lieth no power of choyse,
It is but hope that doth me moue:
Who standerd bearer is to loue.
T3v
On whose ensigne when I beholde,
I se the shadowe of her shape,
Within my faith so fast I folde:
Through dread I die, through hope I scape,
Thus ease and wo full oft I finde,
What will you more she knoweth my minde.
A student at his boke
Of a new maried Student.
A Student at his boke so plast,That welth he might haue wonne:
From boke to wife did flete in haste,
From wealth to wo to runne.
Now, who hath plaied a feater cast,
Since iuglyng first begoon ?
In knittyng of him selfe so fast,
Him selfe he hath vndoon.
Who craftly castes to stere
The meane estate is to be
accompted the best. Who craftly castes to stere his boateand safely skoures the flattering flood:
He cutteth not the greatest waues
for why that way were nothing good.
Ne fleteth on the crocked shore
lest harme him happe awayting lest.
But wines away betwene the[m] both,
as who would say the meane is best.
Who waiteth on the golde[n] meane,
he put in point of sickernes:
Hides not his head in sluttishe coates,
ne shroudes himself in filthines.
Ne sittes aloft in hye estate,
where hatefull hartes enuie his chance:
But wisely walkes betwixt them twaine,
ne proudly doth himself auance
The highest tree in all the woode
is rifest rent with blustring windes:
T4r
The higher hall the greater fall
such chance haue proude and lofty mindes.
When Iupiter from hie doth threat
with mortall mace and dint of thunder
the highest hilles ben batrid eft
when they stand still that stoden vnder
The man whose head with wit is fraught
in welth will feare a worser tide
When fortune failes dispaireth nought
but constantly doth stil abide
For he that sendith grisely stormes
with whisking windes and bitter blastes
And fowlth with haile the winters face
and frotes the soile with hory frostes
Euen he adawth the force of colde
the spring in sendes with somer hote
The same full oft to stormy hartes
is cause of bale: of ioye the roote.
Not always il though so be now
when cloudes ben driuen then rides the racke
Phebus the fresh ne shoteth still
sometime he harpes his muse to wake
Stand stif therfore pluck vp thy hart
lose not thy port though fortune faile
Againe whan wind doth serue at will
take hede to hye to hoyse thy saile.
I lent my loue to losse
The louer refused lamen-
teth his estate. I Lent my loue to losse and gaged my life in vaine,If hate for loue and death for life of louers be the gaine.
And curse I may by course the place eke time and howre
That nature first in me did forme to be a liues creature
Sith that I must absent my selfe so secretly
In place desert where neuer man my secretes shall discrye
In dolling of my dayes among the beastes so brute
Who with their tonges may not bewray the secretes of my sute
Nor I in like to them may once to moue my minde
But gase on them aud they on me as bestes are wont of kinde
Thus ranging as refusde to reche some place of rest,
T4v
All ruff of heare, my nayles vnnocht, as to such semeth best.
That wander by theyr wittes, deformed so to be,
That men may say, such one may curse the tyme he first gan se,
The beauty of her face, her shape in such degree,
As god himself may not discerne, one place mended to be.
Nor place it in lyke place, my fansy for to please,
Who would become a heardmans hyre one howre to haue of ease.
Wherby I might restore, to me some stedfastnes,
That haue mo thoughts hept in my head then life may lo[n]g disges.
As oft to throw me downe vpon the earth so cold,
Wheras with teares most rufully, my sorowes do vnfold.
And in beholding them, I chiefly call to mynd,
What woman could find in her heart, such bondage for to bynd.
Then rashly furth I yede, to cast me from that care,
Lyke as the byrd for foode doth flye, and lighteth in the snare.
From whence I may not meue, vntil my race be roon,
So trayned is my truth through her, [that] thinkes my life well woon.
Thus tosse I too and fro, in hope to haue reliefe,
But in the fine I fynd not so, it doubleth but my grief.
Wherfore I will my want, a warning for to be,
Vnto all men, wishing that they, a myrrour make of me.
Whe[n] dredful swelling seas
The felicitie of a mind imbracing vertue, that beholdeth the wretched desyres of the worlde.
Whe[n] dredful swelling seas, through boisterous windy blastesSo tosse the shippes, that al for nought, serues ancor sayle & mastes.
Who takes not pleasure then, safely on shore to rest,
And see with dreade & depe despayre, how shipmen are distrest.
Not that we pleasure take, when others felen smart,
Our gladnes groweth to see their harmes, & yet to fele no parte.
Delyght we take also, well ranged in aray,
When armies meete to see the fight, yet free be from the fray.
But yet among the rest, no ioy may match with this,
Taspayre vnto the temple hye, where wisdom troned is.
Defended with the saws of hory heades expert,
Which clere it kepe fro[m] errours myst, that myght the truth peruert.
From whence thou mayst loke down, and see as vnder foote,
Mans wa[n]dring wil & doutful life, fro[m] whe[n]ce they take their roote.
V1r
How some by wit contend by prowes some to rise
Riches and rule to gaine and hold is all that men deuise.
O miserable mindes O hertes in folly drent
Why se you not what blindnesse in thys wretched life is spent.
Body deuoyde of grefe mynde free from care and dreede
Is all and some that nature craues wherwith our life to feede.
So that for natures turne few thinges may well suffice
Dolour and grief clene to expell and some delight surprice:
Yea and it falleth oft that nature more contente
Is with the lesse, then when the more to cause delight is spent.
The winter with his griesly
All worldly pleasures fade.
The winter with his griesly stormes no lenger dare abyde,The plesant grasse, with lusty grene, the earth hath newly dyde.
The trees haue leues, [the] bowes don spred, new cha[n]ged is [the] yere.
The water brokes are cleane sonke down, the plesa[n]t ba[n]kes apere.
The spring is come, the goodly nimphes now dau[n]ce in euery place
Thus hath the yere most plesantly of late ychangde his face.
Hope for no immortalitie, for welth will weare away,
As we may learne by euery yere, yea howres of euery day.
For Zepharus doth mollifye the colde and blustering windes:
The somers drought doth take away [the] spryng out of our minds.
And yet the somer cannot last, but once must step asyde,
The[n] Autumn thinkes to kepe hys place, but Autumn ca[n]not bide.
For when he hath brought furth his fruits & stuft [the] barns w[ith] corn,
The winter eates & empties all, and thus is Autumn worne.
Then hory frostes possesse the place, the[n] te[m]pestes work much harm,
The[n] rage of stormes done make al colde whiche somer had made so warm
Wherfore let no man put his trust in that, that will decay,
For slipper welth will not cu[n]tinue, plesure will weare away.
For when that we haue lost our lyfe, & lye vnder a stone,
What are we then, we are but earth, then is our pleasure gon.
No man can tell what god almight of euery wight doth cast,
No man can say to day I liue, till morne my lyfe shall last.
For when thou shalt before thy iudge stand to receiue thy dome,
What sentence Minos dothe pronounce that must of thee become.
Then shall not noble stock and blud redeme the fro[m] his handes,
Nor surged talke with eloquence shal lowse thee fro[m] his bandes.
Nor yet thy lyfe vprightly lead, can help thee out of hell,
For who descendeth downe so depe, must there abyde & dwell.
V1v
Diana could not thence deliuer chaste Hypolitus,
Nor Thes eus could not call to life his frende Periothous.
In sekyng rest
A complaint of the losse of libertie by loue.
In sekyng rest vnrest I finde,I finde that welth is cause of wo:
Wo worth the time that I inclinde,
To fixe in minde her beauty so.
That day be darkened as the night,
Let furious rage it cleane deuour:
Ne sunne nor moone therin geue light,
But it consume with storme and shower.
Let no small birdes straine forth their voyce,
With pleasant tunes ne yet no beast:
Finde cause wherat he may reioyce,
That day when chaunced mine vnrest.
Wherin alas from me was raught,
Mine owne free choyse and quiet minde:
My life my death in balance braught
And reason rasde through barke and rinde.
And I as yet in flower of age,
Bothe witte and will did still aduaunce:
Ay to resist that burnyng rage:
But when I darte then did I glaunce.
Nothing to me did seme so hye,
In minde I could it straight attaine:
Fansy persuaded me therby,
Loue to esteme a thing most vaine.
But as the birde vpon the brier,
Dothe pricke and proyne her without care:
Not knowyng alas pore fole how nere
She is vnto the fowlers snare,
So I amid disceitfull trust,
Did not mistrust such wofull happe:
Till cruell loue er that I wist
Had caught me in his carefull trappe.
Then did I fele and partly know,
How little force in me did raigne:
V2r
So sone to yelde to ouerthrow,
So fraile to flit from ioye to paine.
For when in welth will did me leade
Of libertie to hoyse my saile:
To hale at shete and cast my leade,
I thought free choise wold still preuaile
In whose calme streames I sayld so farre
No ragyng storme had in respect:
Vntyll I raysde a goodly starre,
Wherto my course I did direct.
In whose prospect in doolfull wise,
My tackle failde my compasse brake:
Through hote desires such stormes did rise,
That sterne and toppe went all to wrake.
Oh cruell happe oh fatall chaunce,
O Fortune why were thou vnkinde:
Without regard thus in a traunce,
To reue fro me my ioyfull minde.
Where I was free now must I serue,
Where I was lose now am I bounde:
In death my life I do preserue,
As one through girt with many a wound.
Geue place you Ladies
A praise of his Ladye.
Geue place you Ladies and be gon,Boast not your selues at all:
For here at hande approcheth one
Whose face will staine you all.
The vertue of her liuely lokes,
Excels the precious stone:
I wishe to haue none other bokes
To read or loke vpon.
In eche of her two cristall eyes,
Smileth a naked boye:
It would you all in hart suffise
To see that lampe of ioye.
I thinke nature hath lost the moulde,
Where she her shape did take:
V2v
Or els I doubt if nature could,
So faire a creature make.
She may be well comparde
Vnto the Phenix kinde:
Whose like was neuer sene nor heard,
That any man can finde.
In life she is Diana chast,
In trouth Penelopey:
In word and eke in dede stedfast,
What will you more we sey.
If all the world were sought so farre,
Who could finde such a wight:
Her beauty twinkleth like a starre,
Within the frosty night.
Her rosiall colour comes and goes,
With such a comely grace:
More redier to then doth the rose,
Within her liuely face.
At Bacchus feast none shall her mete,
Ne at no wanton play:
Nor gasyng in an open strete,
Nor gaddyng as a stray.
The modest mirth that she dothe vse,
Is mixt with shamefastnesse:
All vice she dothe wholy refuse,
And hateth ydlenesse.
O lord it is a world to see,
How vertue can repaire:
And decke in her such honestie,
Whom nature made so fayre.
Truely she dothe as farre excede,
Our women now adayes:
As dothe the Ielifloure a wede,
And more a thousande wayes.
How might I do to get a graffe:
Of this vnspotted tree.
For all the rest are plaine but chaffe,
Which seme good corne to be.
This gift alone I shall her geue
When death doth what he can:
Her honest fame shall euer liue,
Within the mouth of man.
V3r
Experience now doth shew
The pore estate to be holden for best.
Experience now doth shew what God vs taught before,Desired pompe is vaine, and seldome dothe it last:
Who climbes to raigne with kinges, may rue his fate full sore.
Alas the wofull ende that comes with care full fast,
Reiect him dothe renowne his pompe full lowe is caste.
Deceiued is the birde by swetenesse of the call
Expell that pleasant taste, wherein is bitter gall.
Such as with oten cakes in pore estate abides,
Of care haue they no cure, the crab with mirth they rost,
More ease fele they then those, that from their height downe slides
Excesse doth brede their wo, they saile in scillas cost,
Remainyng in the stormes till shyp and all be lost.
Serue God therfore thou pore, for lo, thou liues in rest,
Eschue the golden hall, thy thatched house is best.
Thestilis a sely man
The complaint of Thestilis amid the desert wodde.
Thestilis a sely man, when loue did him forsake,In mourning wise, amid [the] woods thus gan his plaint to make.
Ah wofull man (quod he) fallen is thy lot to mone
And pyne away w[ith] carefull thoughts, vnto thy loue vnknowen.
Thy lady thee forsakes whom thou didst honor so
That ay to her thou wer a frend, and to thy self a foe.
Ye louers that haue lost your heartes desyred choyse,
Lament with me my cruell happe, & helpe my trembling voyce.
Was neuer man that stode so great in fortunes grace:
Nor with his swete alas to deare possest so high a place.
As I whose simple hart aye thought him selfe full sure,
But now I se hye springyng tides they may not aye endure.
She knowes my giltelesse hart, and yet she lets it pine,
Of her vntrue professed loue so feble is the twine.
What wonder is it than, if I berent my heeres,
And crauyng death continually do bathe my selfe in teares,
When Cresus king of Lide was cast in cruell bandes,
And yelded goodes and life also into his enemies handes.
V3v
What tong could tell hys wo yet was hys griefe much lesse:
Then mine for I haue lost my loue which might my woe redresse.
Ye woodes that shroud my limes giue now your holow sound,
That ye may helpe me to bewaile the cares that me confound.
Ye riuers rest a while and stay the stremes that runne,
Rew Thestilis most woful man that liueth vnder sunne.
Transport my sighes ye windes vnto my pleasant foe,
My trickling teares shall witnesse bear of this my cruell woe.
O happy man wer I if all the goddes agreed:
That now the susters three should cut in twaine my fatall threde.
Till life with loue shall ende I here resigne all ioy:
Thy pleasant swete I now lament whose lack bredes myne anoy
Farewell my deare therfore farewell to me well knowne
If that I die it shalbe sayd that thou hast slaine thine owne.
Nature that taught
The louer praieth pity showing that nature hath taught his dog as it were to sue for the same by kissing his ladies handes.
Nature that taught my silly dog god wat:Euen for my sake to like where I do loue,
Inforced him wheras my lady sat
With humble sute before her falling flat.
As in his sorte he might her play and moue
To rue vpon his lord and not forgete
The stedfast faith he beareth her and loue,
Kissing her hand whom she could not remoue.
Away that would for frowning nor for threte
As though he would haue sayd in my behoue.
Pity my lord your slaue that doth remaine
Lest by his death you giltles slay vs twaine.
Since thou my ring
Of his ring sent to his lady.
Since thou my ring mayst goe where I ne may.Since thou mayst speake where I must hold my peace.
Say vnto her that is my liues stay.
Grauen the within which I do here expresse:
That sooner shall the sonne not shine by day,
And with the raine the floodes shall waxen lesse.
V4r
Sooner the tree the hunter shall bewray,
Then I for change or choyce of other loue,
Do euer seke my fansy to remoue.
For that a restles head
The changeable state of louers.
For that a restles head must somewhat haue in vreWherwith it may acquaynted be, as falcon is with lure.
Fansy doth me awake out of my drowsy slepe,
In seeing how the little mouse, at night begyns to crepe.
So the desyrous man, that longes to catch hys pray,
In spying how to watch hys tyme, lyeth lurkyng styll by day.
In hopyng for to haue, and fearyng for to fynde
The salue that should recure his sore, & soroweth but the mynde,
Such is the guyse of loue, and the vncertain state,
That some should haue theyr hoped happe, and other hard estate.
That some should seme to ioy in that they neuer had,
And some agayn shall frown as fast, where causeles they be sad.
Such trades do louers vse when they be most at large,
That gyde the stere when they themselues lye fettred in [the] barge.
The grenes of my youth cannot therof expresse
The proces, for by profe vnknowen, all this is but by gesse.
Wherfore I hold it best, in tYme to hold my peace,
But wanton will it cannot hold, or make my pen to cease.
A pen of no auayle, a fruitles labour eke,
My troubled head with fansies fraught, doth payn it self to seke.
And if perhappes my wordes of none auayle do pricke,
Such as do fele the hidden harmes, I would not they shold kicke.
As causeles me to blame which thinketh them no harme,
Although I seme by others fyre, sometime my self to warme.
Which clerely I denye, as gyltles of that cryme,
And though wrong demde I be therin, truth it will trye in tyme.
When Audley had runne out
A praise of Audley.
When Audley had runne out his race and ended wer his days,His fame stept forth & bad me write of hi[m] some worthy praise.
What life he lad, what actes he did: his vertues & good name,
Wherto I calde for true report, as witnes of the same.
V4v
Wel born he was wel bent by kinde, whose mind did neuer swarue
A skilfull head, a valiant hert, a ready hand to serue.
Brought vp & trained in feats of war long time beyond the seas
Cald home again to serue his prince who[m] styll he sought to please.
What tornay was there he refusde, what seruice did he shone,
Where he was not nor his aduice, what great exploit was done,
In towne a lambe in felde full fierce a lyon at the nede,
In sober wit a Salomon, yet one of Hectors sede.
Then shame it were that any tong shold now defame his dedes
That in his life a mirror was to all that him succedes.
No pore estate nor hie renowne his nature could peruart,
No hard mischaunce that him befel could moue his constant hart.
Thus long he liued loued of all as one mislikt of none,
And where he went who cald him not the gentle Peragon.
But course of kinde doth cause eche frute to fall whe[n] it is ripe,
And spitefull death will suffer none to scape his greuous gripe.
Yet though the ground receiued haue his corps into her wombe,
This epitaphe ygraue in brasse, shall stand vpon his tombe.
Lo here he lies that hateth vice, and vertues life imbrast,
His name in earth his sprite aboue deserues to be well plast.
Eche thing I se
Time trieth truth.
Eche thing I se hath time which time must trye my truth,Which truth deserues a special trust, on trust gret fre[n]dship gro-weth
And frendship may not faile where faithfulnesse is founde,
And faithfulnesse is ful of frute, & fruteful thinges be sounde.
And sound is good at proufe, and proufe is prince of praise,
And precious praise is such a pearle as seldome ner decayes.
All these thinges time tries forth, which time I must abide,
How shold I boldly credite craue till time my truth haue tryed.
For as I found a time to fall in fansies frame,
So I do wishe a lucky time for to declare the same.
If hap may answere hope and hope may haue his hire,
Then shall my hart possesse in peace the time that I desire.
My youthfull yeres are past
The louer refused of his loue imbraceth death.
X1r
My ioyfull dayes are gone:
My life it may not last,
My graue and I am one.
My mirth and ioyes are fled,
And I a man in wo:
Desirous to be dedde,
My mischiefe to forgo.
I burne and am a colde,
I frise amids the fire:
I see she dothe withholde
That is my most desire.
I see my helpe at hand,
I see my lyfe also:
I see where she dothe stande
That is my deadly foe.
I see how she dothe see,
And yet she will be blinde:
I se in helpyng me
She sekes and will not finde.
I see how she doth wry,
When I begyn to mone:
I see when I come nie,
Hhw faine she wold be gone.
I see what will ye more
She will me gladly kyll:
And you shall see therfore
That she shall haue her will.
I can not liue with stones
It is to hard a fode:
I will be dead at once
To do my Lady good.
Behold my picture here
The Picture of a louer.
Behold my picture here well portrayed for the nones,With hart consumed and fallyng flesshe, lo here the very bones.
Whose cruell chaunce alas and desteny is such,
Onely because I put my trust in some folke all to much.
X1v
For since the time that I did enter in this pine,
I neuer saw the risyng sunne but with my wepyng eyen.
Nor yet I neuer heard so swete a voice or sounde,
But that to me it did encrease the dolour of my wounde.
Nor in so soft a bedde, alas I neuer laye,
But that it semed hard to me or euer it was daye.
Yet in this body bare that nought but life retaines,
The strength wherof clene past away the care yet still remaines.
Like as the cole in flame dothe spende it selfe you se,
To vaine and wretched cinder dust till it consumed be.
So dothe this hope of mine inforce my feruent sute,
To make me for to gape in vaine, whilst other eate the frute.
And shall do till the death do geue me such a grace,
To rid this sillye wofull spirite out of this dolefull case.
And then wold God were writte in stone or els in leade,
This Epitaphe vpon my graue, to shew why I am deade.
Here lieth the louer loe, who for the loue he aught,
Aliue vnto his ladye dere, his death therby he caught.
And in a shielde of blacke, loe here his armes appeares,
With weping eies as you may see, well poudred all with teares.
Loe here you may beholde, aloft vpon his brest,
A womans hand strainyng the hart of him that loued her best.
Wherfore all you that se this corps for loue that starues,
Example make vnto you all, that thankelesse louers sarues.
Bewaile with me all ye
Of the death of Phillips.
Bewaile with me all ye that haue profest,Of musicke tharte by touche of coarde or winde:
Laye downe your lutes and let your gitterns rest,
Phillips is dead whose like you can not finde.
Of musicke much exceadyng all the rest,
Muses therfore of force now must you wrest.
Your pleasant notes into an other sounde,
The string is broke, the lute is dispossest,
The hand is colde, the bodye in the grounde.
The lowring lute lamenteth now therfore,
Phillips her frende that can her touche no more.
X2r
I see there is no sort
That all thing sometime finde ease of their paine, saue onely the louer.
I See there is no sort,Of thinges that liue in griefe:
Which at sometime may not resort,
Wheras they haue reliefe.
The striken dere by kinde,
Of death that standes in awe:
For his recure an herbe can finde,
The arrow to withdrawe.
The chased dere hath soile,
To coole him in his het:
The asse after his wery toyle,
In stable is vp set.
The conye hath his caue,
The little birde his nest:
From heate and colde them selues to saue,
At all times as they lyst.
The owle with feble sight,
Lieth lurkyng in the leaues:
The sparrow in the frosty nyght,
May shroude her in the eaues.
But wo to me alas,
In sunne nor yet in shade.
I can not finde a restyng place,
My burden to vnlade.
But day by day still beares,
The burden on my backe:
With wepyng eyen and watry teares,
To holde my hope abacke.
All thinges I see haue place,
Wherin they bowe or bende:
Saue this alas my wofull case,
Which no where findeth ende.
When Cupide scaled first
Thassault of Cupide vpon the fort where the louers hart lay wounded and how he was taken.
X2v
Wherin my hart lay wounded sore:
The battry was of such a sort
That I must yelde or dye therfore.
There saw I loue vpon the wall,
How he his banner did display:
Alarme alarme he gan to call,
And bad his souldiours kepe aray.
The armes the which that Cupide bare
Were pearced harts with teares besprent:
In siluer and sable to declare
The stedfast loue he alwayes ment.
There might you se his band all drest,
In colours like to white and blacke:
With powder and with pellets prest,
To bring the fort to spoile and sacke.
Good will the master of the shot,
Stode in the rampyre braue and proud:
For spence of powder he spared not,
Assault assault to crye aloude.
There might you heare the cannons rore
Eche pece discharged a louers loke:
Which had the power to rent, and tore
In any place whereas they toke.
And euen with the trumpets sowne,
The scalyng ladders were vp set:
And beauty walked vp and downe
With bow in hand and arrowes whet.
Then first desire began to scale,
And shrowded him vnder his targe:
As on the worthiest of them all,
And aptest for to geue the charge.
Then pusshed souldiers with their pikes
And holbarders with handy strokes:
The hargabushe in fleshe it lightes,
And dims the ayre with misty smokes.
And as it is the souldiers vse,
When shot and powder gins to want:
I hanged vp my flagge of truce,
And pleaded for my liues graunt.
When fansy thus had made her breach
And beauty entred with her bande:
X3r
With bag and baggage selye wretch,
I yelded into beauties hand.
Then beawty bad to blow retrete,
And euery soldiour to retire.
And mercy wilde with spede to fet:
Me captiue bound as prisoner.
Madame (quoth I) sith that thys day,
Hath serued you at all assaies:
I yeld to you without delay,
Here of the fortresse all the kaies.
And sith that I haue ben the marke,
At whom you shot at with youe eye:
Nedes must you with your handy warke,
Or salue my sore or let me dye.
I lothe that I did loue
The aged louer renounceth loue.
I Lothe that I did loue,In youth that I thought swete:
As time requires for my behoue
Me thinkes they are not mete,
My lustes they do me leaue,
My fansies all be fledde:
And tract of time begins to weaue,
Gray heares vpon my hedde.
For age with stelyng steppes,
Hath clawed me with his cowche:
And lusty life away she leapes,
As there had bene none such.
My muse dothe not delight
Me as she did before:
My hand and pen are not in plight,
As they haue bene of yore.
For reason me denies,
This youthly idle rime:
And day by day to me she cryes,
Leaue of these toyes in time.
The wrincles in my brow,
The furrowes in my face:
X3v
Say limpyng age will hedge him now,
Where youth must geue him place.
The harbinger of death,
To me I see him ride:
The cough, the colde, the gaspyng breath,
Dothe bid me to prouide.
A pikeax and a spade,
And eke a shrowdyng shete,
A house of claye for to be made,
For such a gest most mete.
Me thinkes I heare the clarke,
That knols the careful knell:
And bids me leaue my wofull warke,
Er nature me compell.
My kepers knit the knot,
That youth did laugh to scorne:
Of me that clene shalbe forgot,
As I had not ben borne.
Thus must I youth geue vp,
Whose badge I long did weare:
To them I yelde the wanton cup
That better may it beare.
Loe here the bared scull,
By whose balde signe I know:
That stoupyng age away shall pull,
Which youthfull yeres did sowe.
For beauty with her bande
These croked cares hath wrought:
And shipped me into the lande,
From whence I first was brought.
And ye that bide behinde,
Haue ye none other trust:
As ye of claye were cast by kinde,
So shall ye waste to dust.
To liue to dye
Of the ladie wentworthes death.
To liue to dye, and dye to liue againe,With good renowne of fame well led before
X4r
Here lieth she that learned had the lore,
Whom if the perfect vertues wolden daine.
To be set forth with foile of worldly grace,
Was noble borne and matcht in noble race,
Lord Wentworthes wife, nor wa[n]ted to attain
In natures giftes her praise among the rest,
But that that gaue her praise aboue the best
Not fame her wedlocks chastnes durst distain
Wherein with child deliueryng of her wombe,
Thuntimely birth hath brought them both in tombe
So left she life by death to liue again.
The smoky sighes
The louer accusing hys loue for her vnfaithfulnesse, pnrposeth
to liue in libertie. The smoky sighes the bitter teares,That I in vaine haue wasted:
The broken slepes, the wo and feares,
That long in me haue lasted:
The loue and all I owe to thee,
Here I renounce and make me free.
Which fredome I haue by thy guilt,
And not by my deseruing,
Since so vnconstantly thou wilt,
Not loue, but still be swaruyng.
To leue me oft which was thine owne,
Without cause why as shalbe knowen.
The frutes were faire the which did grow,
Within thy garden planted,
The leaues were grene of euery bough,
And moysture nothing wanted,
Yet or the blossoms gan to fall,
The caterpiller wasted all.
Thy body was the garden place,
And sugred wordes it beareth,
The blossomes all thy faith it was,
Which as the canker wereth.
The cater piller is the same,
That hath wonne thee and lost thy name.
X4v
I meane thy louer loued now,
By thy pretended folye,
Which will proue lyke, thou shalt fynd how,
Vnto a tree of holly:
That barke and bery beares alwayes,
The one, byrdes feedes, the other slayes.
And right well mightest thou haue thy wish
Of thy loue new acquaynted:
For thou art lyke vnto the dishe
That Adrianus paynted:
Wherin wer grapes portrayd so fayre
That fowles for foode did there repayre.
But I am lyke the beaten fowle
That from the net escaped,
And thou art lyke the rauening owle
That all the night hath waked.
For none intent but to betray
The sleping fowle before the day.
Thus hath thy loue been vnto me
As pleasant and commodious,
As was the fyre made on the sea
By Naulus hate so odious.
Therwith to trayn the grekish host
From Troyes return where they wer lost.
As Cypres tree that rent
The louer for want of his desyre, sheweth his death at hand.
As Cypres tree that rent is by the roote.As branch or slyppe bereft from whe[n]ce it growes
As well sowen seede for drought that can not sproute
As gaping ground that raineles can not close
As moules that want the earth to do them bote
As fishe on lande to whom no water flowes,
As Chameleon that lackes the ayer so sote.
As flowers do fade when Phebus rarest showes.
As salamandra repulsed from the fyre:
So wanting my wishe I dye for my desyre
Y1r
The shinyng season
A happy end excedeth all plea.
sures and riches of the worlde, The shinyng season here to some,The glory in the worldes sight,
Renowmed fame through fortune wonne
The glitteryng golde the eyes delight.
The sensuall life that semes so swete,
The hart with ioyfull dayes replete,
The thing wherto eche wight is thrall,
The happy ende exceadeth all.
O temerous tauntres
Against an vnstedfast woman.
O Temerous tauntres that delights in toyesTumbling cockboat tottryng to and fro,
Ianglyng iestres depraueres of swete ioyes,
Ground of the graffe whence al my grief dothe grow
Sullen serpent enuironned w[ith] dispite,
That yll for good at all times doest requite.
O petrarke hed and prince
A praise of Petrarke and of Laura his ladie.
O Petrarke hed and prince of poets all,Whose liuely gift of flowyng eloquence,
Wel may we seke, but finde not how or whence
So rare a gift with thee did rise and fall,
Peace to thy bones, and glory immortall
Be to thy name, and to her excellence.
Whose beauty lighted in thy time and sence
So to be set forth as none other shall.
Why hath not our pens rimes so p[er]fit wrought
Ne why our time forth bringeth beauty such
To trye our wittes as golde is by the touche,
Y1v
If to the stile the matter aided ought.
But therwas neuer Laura more then one,
And her had petrarke for his paragone,
With petrarke to compare
That petrark cannot be passed but notwithstanding that Lawra is far surpassed.
With petrarke to compare there may no wight,Nor yet attain vnto so high a stile,
But yet I wote full well where is a file.,
To frame a learned man to praise aright:
Of stature meane of semely forme and shap,
Eche line of iust proporsion to her height:
Her colour freshe and mingled with such sleight:
As though the rose sate in the lilies lap.
In wit and tong to shew what may be sed,
To euery dede she ioynes a parfit grace,
If Lawra liude she would her clene deface.
For I dare say and lay my life to wed
That Momus could not if he downe discended,
Once iustly say lo this may be amended.
Cruell and vnkind
Against a cruell woman.
Cruell and vnkind whom mercy cannot moue,Herbour of vnhappe where rigours rage doth raigne,
The ground of my griefe where pitie cannot proue:
To tickle to trust of all vntruth the traine,
thou rigorous rocke that ruth cannot remoue.
Daungerous delph depe dungeon of disdaine:
The sacke of selfe will the chest of craft and change,
What causeth the thus so causels for to change.
Ah piteles plante whome plaint cannot prouoke,
Darke den of disceite that right doth still refuse,
Causles vnkinde that carieth vnder cloke
Cruelty and craft me onely to abuse,
Statelye and stubberne withstanding cupides stroke,
Thou merueilouse mase that makest men to muse,
Y2r
Solleyn by selfe will, most stony stiffe and straunge,
What causeth thee thus causelesse for to chaunge.
Slipper and secrete where surety can not sowe
Net of newelty, neast of newfanglenesse,
Spring of very spite, from whence whole fluddes do flow,
Thou caue and cage of care and craftin esse
Waueryng willow that euery blast dothe blowe
Graffe withouten grothe and cause of carefulnesse.
The heape of mishap of all my griefe the graunge,
What causeth thee thus causelesse for to chaunge.
Hast thou forgote that I was thine infeft,
By force of loue haddest thou not hart at all,
Sawest thou not other that for thy loue were left
Knowest thou vnkinde, that nothing mught befall
From out my hart that could haue the bereft.
What meanest thou then at ryot thus to raunge,
And leauest thine owne that neuer thought to chau[n]ge.
If it were so that God
The louer sheweth what he would haue if it were graunted him to haue what he would wishe.
If it were so that God would graunt me my request,And that I might of earthly thinges haue [that] I liked best.
I would not wishe to clime to princely hye astate,
which slipper is and slides so oft, and hath so fickle fate.
Nor yet to conquere realmes with cruell sworde in hande,
And so to shede the giltlesse bloude of such as would withstand.
Nor I would not desire in worldly rule to raigne,
Whose frute is all vnquietnesse, and breakyng of the braine.
Nor richesse in excesse of vertue so abhorde,
I would not craue which bredeth care and causeth all discorde.
But my request should be more worth a thousand folde:
That I might haue and her enioye that hath my hart in holde.
Oh God what lusty life should we liue then for euer,
In pleasant ioy and perfect blisse, to length our liues together.
With wordes of frendlye chere, and lokes of liuely loue,
To vtter all our hotte desires, which neuer should remoue.
Y2v
But grose and gredie wittes which grope but on the ground.
To gather muck of worldly goodes which oft do them confounde.
Can not attaine to knowe the misteries deuine
Of perfite loue wherto hie wittes of knowledge do incline
A nigard of his gold suche ioye can neuer haue
which gettes w[ith] toile and kepes with care and is his money slaue.
As they enioy alwayes that taste loue in his kinde,
For they do holde continually a heauen in their minde.
No worldly goodes could bring my hart so great an ease,
As for to finde or do the thing that might my ladye please.
For by her onely loue my hart should haue all ioye,
And with the same put care away, and all that coulde annoy.
As if that any thyng shold chance to make me sadde,
The touching of her corall lippes would straighteways make me gladde,
And when that in my heart I fele that dyd me greue
With one imbracing of her armes she might me sone releue:
And as the Angels all which sit in heauen hye
With presence and the sight of god haue theyr felicitie.
So lykewyse I in earth, should haue all earthly blis,
With presence of that paragon, my god in earth that is.
To loue, alas
The lady forsaken of her louer, prayeth his returne, or the end of her own life.
To loue, alas, who would not feareThat seeth my wofull state,
For he to whom my heart I beare
Doth me extremely hate,
And why therfore I cannot tell,
He will no lenger with me dwell.
Did you not sewe and long me serue
Ere I you graunted grace?
And will you this now from me swarue
That neuer did trespace?
Alas poore woman then alas,
A wery lyfe here must I passe.
And is there now no remedy
But that you will forgeat her,
Ther was a tyme when that perdy
Y3r
You would haue heard her better.
But now that time is gone and past,
And all your loue is but a blast.
And can you thus breake your behest
In dede and can you so?
Did you not sweare you loude me best,
And can you now say no?
Remember me poore wight in payne,
And for my sake turne once agayne.
Alas poore Dido now I fele
Thy present paynful state,
When salse Eneas did hym stele
From thee at Carthage gate.
And left thee sleapyng in thy bedde,
Regardyng not what he had sayd.
Was neuer woman thus betrayed,
Nor man so false forsworne,
His faith and trouth so strongly tayed,
Vntruth hath alltotorne:
And I haue leaue for my good will,
To waile and wepe alone my fill.
But since it will not better be,
My teares shall neuer blyn:
To moist the earth in such degree,
That I may drowne therin:
That by my death all men may saye,
Lo women are as true as they.
By me all women may beware,
That see my wofull smart,
To seke true loue let them not spare,
Before they set their hart.
Or els they may become as I,
Which for my truth am like to dye.
In fredome was my fantasie
The louer yelden into his ladies handes, praieth mercie.
In fredome was my fantasieAbhorryng bondage of the minde,
Y3v
But now I yelde my libertie,
And willingly my selfe I binde.
Truely to serue with all my hart,
Whiles life doth last not to reuart.
Her beauty bounde me first of all
And forst my will for to consent:
And I agree to be her thrall,
For as she list I am content.
My will is hers in that I may,
And where she biddes I will obey.
It lieth in her my wo or welth,
She may do that she liketh best,
If that she list I haue my helth,
If she list not in wo I rest.
Sins I am fast within her bandes,
My wo and welth lieth in her handes.
She can no lesse then pitie me,
Sith that my faith to her is knowne,
It were to much extremitie,
With cruelty to vse her owne.
Alas a sinnefull enterprice,
To slay that yeldes at her deuice.
But I thinke not her hart so harde,
Nor that she hath such cruell lust:
I doubt nothing of her reward,
For my desert but well I trust,
As she hath beauty to allure,
So hath she a hart that will recure.
Among dame natures workes
That nature which worketh al thinges for our behofe, hath made women also for our comfort and delite.
Among dame natures workes such perfite lawe is wrought,That things be ruled by course of kinde in order as they ought
And serueth in their state, in such iust frame and sorte,
That slender wits may iudge the same, & make therof report.
Beholde what secrete force the winde dothe easely showe,
Which guides the shippes amid the seas if he his bellowes blow
Y4r
The waters wax en wilde where blustering blastes do rise,
Yet seldome do they passe their bond es for nature that deuise.
The fire which boiles the leade and trieth out the golde:
Hath in his power both help and hurt if he his force vnfolde.
The frost which kilth the fruite doth knit the brused bones:
And is a medecin of kind prepared for the nones.
The earth in whose entrails the foode of man doth liue,
At euery spring and fall of leafe what plesure doth she giue.
The aier which life desires and is to helth so swete
Of nature yeldes such liuely smelles that co[m]fortes euery sprete.
The sonne through natures might doth draw away the dew,
And spredes [the] flowers where he is wo[n]t his princely face to shew
The Mone which may be cald the lanterne of the night,
Is halfe a guide to traueling men such vertue hath her light.
The sters not vertuelesse are bewtie to the eies,
A lodes man to the mariner a signe of calmed skies.
The flowers and fruitefull trees to man doe tribute pay,
And when they haue their duety done by course they fade away.
Eche beast both fishe and foule, doth offer lief and all,
To norishe man and do him ease yea serue him at his call.
The serpentes venemous, whose vglye shapes we hate,
Are soueraigne salues for sondry sores, & nedefull in their state.
Sith nature shewes her power, in eche thing thus at large,
Why should not man submit hymself to be in natures charge
Who thinkes to flee her force, at length becomes her thrall,
The wysest cannot slip her snare, for nature gouernes all.
Lo, nature gaue vs shape, lo nature fedes our lyues:
The[n] they are worse the[n] mad I think, against her force [that] striues.
Though some do vse to say, which can do nought but fayne,
Women were made for this intent, to put vs men to payne.
Yet sure I think they are a pleasure to the mynde,
A ioy which man can neuer want, as nature hath assynde.
To my mishap alas I fynde
when aduersitie is once fallen, it is to late to beware.
To my mishap alas I fyndeThat happy hap is daungerous:
And fortune worketh but her kynd
To make the ioyfull dolorous.
Y4v
But all to late it comes to minde,
To waile the want that makes me blinde,
Amid my mirth and pleasantnesse,
Such chaunce is chaunced sodainly,
That in dispaire without redresse,
I finde my chiefest remedy.
No new kinde of vnhappinesse,
Should thus haue left me comfortlesse.
Who wold haue thought that my request,
Should bring me forth such bitter frute:
But now is hapt that I feard lest,
And all this harme comes by my sute,
For when I thought me happiest,
Euen then hapt all my chiefe vnrest.
In better case was neuer none
And yet vnwares thus am I trapt,
My chiefe desire doth cause me mone,
And to my harme my welth is hapt,
There is no man but I alone,
That hath such cause to sigh and mone.
Thus am I taught for to beware
And trust no more such pleasant chance,
My happy happe bred me this care,
And brought my mirth to great mischance.
There is no man whom happe will spare,
But when she list his welth is bare.
Al you that frendship
Of a louer that made his onelye God of his loue.
Al yon that frendship do professe,And of a frende present the place:
Geue eare to me that did possesse,
As frendly frutes as ye imbrace.
And to declare the circumstaunce,
There were them selues that did auaunce:
To teache me truely how to take,
A faithfull frende for vertues sake.
Z1r
But I as one of little skill,
To know what good might grow therby,
Vnto my welth I had no will,
Nor to my nede I had none eye,
But as the childe dothe learne to go,
So I in time did learne to know.
Of all good frutes the worlde brought forth,
A faythfull frende is thing most worth.
Then with all care I sought to finde,
One worthy to receiue such trust:
One onely that was riche in minde,
One secrete, sober, wise, and iust.
Whom riches coulde not raise at all,
Nor pouertie procure to fall:
And to be short in few wordes plaine,
One such a frend I did attaine.
And when I did enioy this welth,
Who liued Lord in such a case,
For to my frendes it was great helth,
And to my foes a fowle deface,
Aad to my selfe a thing so riche
As seke the worlde and finde none sich
Thus by this frende I set such store,
As by my selfe I set no more.
This frende so much was my delight
When care had clene orecome my hart,
One thought of her rid care as quite,
As neuer care had caused my smarte
Thus ioyed I in my frende so dere
Was neuer frende sate man so nere,
I carde for her so much alone,
That other God I carde for none.
But as it dothe to them befall,
That to them selues respect haue none:
So my swete graffe is growen to gall,
Where I sowed mirthe I reaped mone
This ydoll that I honorde so,
Is now transformed to my fo.
That me most pleased me most paynes,
And in dispaire my hart remaines.
And for iust scourge of such desart,
Thre plages I may my selfe assure,
Z1v
First of my frende to lose my parte,
And next my life may not endure,
And last of all the more to blame,
My soule shall suffer for the same,
Wherfore ye frendes I warne you all,
Sit faste for feare of such a fall,
Death and the kyng
Vpon the death of sir Antony Denny.
Death and the kyng did as it were contende,Which of them two bare Denny greatest loue.
The king to shew his loue gan farre extende,
Did him aduaunce his betters farre aboue.
Nere place, much welthe, great honour eke him gaue,
To make it knowen what power great princes haue.
But when death came with his triumphant gift,
From worldly cark he quite his weried ghost,
Free from the corps, and straight to heauen it lift,
Now deme that can who did for Denny most.
The king gaue welth but fadyng and vnsure,
Death brought him blisse that euer shall endure.
Lyke as the brake
A comparison of the louers paines.
Lyke as the brake within the riders hande,Dothe strayne the horse nye woode with griefe of payne,
Not vsed before to come in such a bande,
Striueth for griefe, although godwot in vayne.
To be as erst he was at libertie,
But force of force dothe straine the contrary.
Euen so since band dothe cause my deadly griefe,
That made me so my wofull chaunce lament,
Like thing hath brought me into paine and mischiefe,
Saue willingly to it I did assent.
To binde the thing in fredome which was free,
That now full sore alas repenteth me.
Z2r
Svche grene to me
Of a Rosemary braunche sente.
Svche grene to me as you haue sent,Such grene to you I sende agayn:
A flowring hart that wyll not feint,
For drede of hope or losse of gaine:
A stedfast thought all wholy bent,
So that he maye your grace obtain:
As you by proofe haue alwaies sene,
To liue your owne and alwayes grene.
As I haue bene
To his loue of his constant hart.
As I haue bene so will I euer be,Vnto my death and lenger yf I might.
Haue I of loue the frendly lokyng eye,
Haue I of fortune the fauour or the spite,
I am of rock by proofe as you may see:
Not made of waxe nor of no metall light,
As leefe to dye, by chaunge as to deceaue,
Or breake the promise made. And so I leaue.
The golden apple
Of the token which his loue sent him.
The golden apple that the Troyan boy,Gaue to Venus the fayrest of the thre,
Which was the cause of all the wrack of Troy,
Was not receiued with a greater ioye,
Then was the same (my loue) thou sent to me,
It healed my sore it made my sorowes free,
It gaue me hope it banisht mine annoy:
Thy happy hand full oft of me was blist,
That can geue such a salue when that thou list.
Z2v
Tho Cowerd oft
Manhode auaileth not without good Fortune.
Tho Cowerd oft whom deinty viandes fed,That bosted much his ladies eares to please,
By helpe of them whom vnder him he led
Hath reapt the palme that valiance could not cease.
The vnexpert that shoores vnknowen neare sought,
Whom Neptune yet apaled not with feare:
In wandryng shippe on trustlesse seas hath tought,
The skill to fele that time to long doth leare.
The sportyng knight that scorneth Cupides kinde,
With faned chere the payned cause to brede:
In game vnhides the leden sparkes of minde,
And gaines the gole, where glowyng flames should spede,
Thus I see proufe that trouth and manly hart,
May not auayle, if fortune chaunce to start.
Though in the waxe
That constancy of all vertues is most worthy.
Though in the waxe a perfect picture made,Dothe shew as fayre as in the marble stone,
Yet do we see it is estemed of none,
Because that fire or force the forme dothe fade.
Wheras the marble holden is full dere,
Since that endures the date of lenger dayes.
Of Diamondes it is the greatest prayse,
So long to last and alwayes one tappere.
Then if we do esteme that thing for best,
Which in perfection lengest time dothe last:
And that most vayne that turnes with euery blast
What iewell then with tonge can be exprest.
Like to that hart where loue hath framed such fethe,
That can not fade but by the force of dethe.
Thestilis thou sely man
A comfort to the complaynt of Thestilis.
Z3r
If nedes thy loue will thee forsake, thy mourning is in vaine.
For none can force the streames against their course to ronne,
Nor yet vnwillyng loue with teares or wailyng can be wonne.
Cease thou therfore thy plaintes, let hope thy sorowes ease,
The shipmen though their sailes be rent yet hope to scape the seas
Though straunge she seme a while, yet thinke she will not chau[n]ge
Good causes driue a ladies loue, sometime to seme full straunge.
No louer that hath wit, but can forsee such happe,
That no wight can at wish or will slepe in his ladies lappe.
Achilles for a time fayre Brises did forgo,
Yet did they mete with ioye againe, then thinke thou maist do so.
Though he and louers al in loue sharpe stormes do finde,
Dispaire not thou pore Thestilis though thy loue seme vnkinde.
Ah thinke her graffed loue can not so sone decay,
Hie springes may cease from swellyng styll, but neuer dry away
Oft stormes of louers yre, do more their loue encrease:
As shinyng sunne refreshe the frutes whe[n] rainyng gins to cease.
When springes are waxen lowe, then must they flow againe,
So shall thy hart aduaunced be, to pleasure out of paine.
When lacke of thy delight most bitter griefe apperes,
Thinke on Etrascus worthy loue that lasted thirty yeres,
Which could not long atcheue his hartes desired choyse,
Yet at the ende he founde rewarde that made him to reioyce.
Since he so long in hope with pacience did remaine,
Can not thy feruent loue forbeare thy loue a moneth or twaine.
Admit she minde to chaunge and nedes will thee forgo,
Is there no mo may thee delight but she that paynes thee so?
Thestilis draw to the towne and loue as thou hast done,
In time thou knowest by faythfull loue as good as she is wonne.
And leaue the desert woodes and waylyng thus alone
And seke to salue thy sore els where, if all her loue be gonne.
Lyke as the rage of raine
The vncertaine state of a louer.
Lyke as the rage of raine,Filles riuers with excesse,
And as the drought againe,
Dothe draw them lesse and lesse.
Z3v
So I bothe fall and clyme,
With no and yea sometime.
As they swell hye and hye,
So dothe encrease my state,
As they fall drye and drye
So doth my wealth abate,
As yea is mixt with no,
So mirthe is mixt with wo.
As nothing can endure,
That liues and lackes reliefe,
So nothing can stande sure,
Where chaunge dothe raigne as chiefe.
Wherfore I must intende,
To bowe when others bende.
And when they laugh to smile,
And when they wepe to waile,
And when they craft, begile,
And when they fight, assayle,
And thinke there is no chaunge,
Can make them seme to straunge.
Oh most vnhappy slaue,
What man may leade this course,
To lacke he would faynest haue,
Or els to do much worse.
These be rewardes for such,
As liue and loue to much.
At libertie I sit and see
The louer in libertie smileth at them in thraldome, that sometime scorned his bondage.
At libertie I sit and see,Them that haue erst laught me to scorne:
Whipt with the whip that scourged me,
And now they banne that they were borne.
I see them sit full soberlye,
And thinke their earnest lokes to hide:
Now in them selues they can not spye,
That they or this in me haue spied.
Z4r
I see them sittyng all alone,
Markyng the steppes ech worde and loke:
And now they treade where I haue gone
The painfull pathe that I forsoke.
Now I see well I saw no whit,
When they saw well that now are blinde
But happy hap hath made me quit,
And iust iudgement hath them assinde.
I see them wander all alone,
And trede full fast in dredfull dout:
The selfe same pathe that I haue gone,
Blessed be hap that brought me out.
At libertie all this I see,
And say no worde but erst among:
Smiling at them that laught at me,
Lo such is hap marke well my song.
I read how Troylus
A comparison of his loue wyth the faithfull and painful loue of Troylus to Creside.
I Read how Troylus serued in Troy,A lady long and many a day,
And how he bode so great anoy,
For her as all the stories saye.
That halfe the paine had neuer man,
Which had this wofull Troyan than.
His youth, his sport, his pleasant chere,
His courtly state and company,
In him so straungly altred were,
With such a face of contrary.
That euery ioye became a wo,
This poyson new had turned him so.
And what men thought might most him ease
And most that for his comfort stode,
The same did most his minde displease,
And set him most in furious mode,
For all his pleasure euer lay,
To thinke on her that was away,
Z4v
His chamber was his common walke,
Wherin he kept him seretely,
He made his bedde the place of talke,
To heare his great extremitie.
In nothing els had he delight,
But euen to be a martyr right.
And now to call her by her name
And straight therwith to sigh and throbbe:
And when his fansyes might not frame,
Then into teares and so to sobbe,
All in extreames and thus he lyes
Making two fountayns of his eyes.
As agues haue sharpe shiftes of fittes
Of colde and heat successiuely:
So had his head like chaunge of wittes:
His pacience wrought so diuersly.
Now vp, now downe, now here, now there,
Like one that was he wist not where.
And thus though he were Pryams sonne
And commen of the kinges hie bloude,
This care he had er he her wonne.
Till shee that was his maistresse good,
And lothe to see her seruaunt so,
Became Phisicion to his wo.
And toke him to her handes and grace,
And said she would her minde apply,
To helpe him in his wofull case,
If she might be his remedy.
And thus they say to ease his smart,
She made him owner of her hart.
And truth it is except they lye,
From that day forth her study went,
To shew to loue him faithfully,
And his whole minde full to content.
So happy a man at last was he,
And eke so worthy a woman she.
Lo lady then iudge you by this,
Mine ease and how my case dothe fall,
For sure betwene my life and his,
No difference there is at all.
His care was great so was his paine,
And mine is not the lest of twaine.
Aa1r
For what he felt in seruice true
For her whom that he loued so,
The same I fele as large for you,
To whom I do my seruice owe,
There was that time in him no payne,
But now the same in me dothe raine.
Which if you can compare and waye,
And how I stande in euery plight,
Then this for you I dare well saye,
Your hart must nedes remorce of right
To graunt me grace and so to do,
As Creside then did Troylus to.
For well I wot you are as good
And euen as faire as euer was shee,
And commen of as worthy bloode,
And haue in you as large pitie.
To tender me your owne true man,
As she did him her seruaunt than.
Which gift I pray God for my sake,
Full sone and shortly you me sende,
So shall you make my sorowes slake,
So shall you bring my wo to ende.
And set me in as happy case,
As Troylus with his lady was.
Flee fro[m] the prese
To leade a vertuous and honest life,
Flee fro[m] the prese & dwell with sothfastnesSuffise to thee thy good though it be small,
For horde hath hate and climyng ticklenesse
Praise hath enuy, and weall is blinde in all
Fauour no more, then thee behoue shall.
Rede well thy self that others well canst rede,
And trouth shall the deliuer it is no drede.
Paine thee not eche croked to redresse
In hope of her that turneth as a ball,
Great rest standeth in litle busynesse,
Beware also to spurne against a nall,
Striue not as doth a crcoke against a wall,
Aa1v
Deme first thy selfe, that demest others dede
And trouth shall the deliuer, it is no drede.
That the is sent, receiue in boxomnesse,
The wrestling of this world axith a fall:
Here is no home, here is but wildernesse.
Forth pilgrame forth beast out of thy stall,
Looke vp on high, giue thankes to god of all:
Weane well thy lust, and honest life ay leade,
So trouth shall the deliuer, it is no dreade.
Sins Mars first moued warre
The wounded louer deter mineth to make sute to his lady for his recure.
Sins Mars first moued warre or stirred men to strife,Was neuer seen so fearce a fight, I scarce could scape with life.
Resist so long I did, till death approched so nye,
To saue my selfe I thought it best, with spede away to fly.
In daunger still I fled, by flight I thought to scape
From my dere foe, it vailed not, alas it was to late.
For venus from her campe brought Cupide with hys bronde,
Who sayd now yelde, or els desire shall chace the in euery londe.
Yet would I not straite yelde, till fansy fiersly stroke,
Who from my will did cut the raines and charged me w[ith] this yoke
Then all the dayes and nightes mine eare might heare the sound,
What carefull sighes my heart would steale to fele it self so bound
For though within my brest, thy care I worke he sayd,
Why for good wyll didest thou behold her persing iye displayde.
Alas the fishe is caught, through baite, that hides the hoke,
Euen so her eye me trained hath, and tangled with her loke.
But or that it be long, my hart thou shalt be faine,
To stay my life pray her furththrowe swete lokes wha[n] I co[m]plaine
When that she shall deny, to doe me that good turne,
Then shall she see to asshes gray, by flames my body burne.
Desearte of blame to her, no wight may yet impute,
For feare of nay I neuer sought, the way to frame my sute.
Yet hap that what hap shall, delay I may to long,
Assay I shall for I here say, the still man oft hath wrong.
Aa2r
The dolefull bell
The louer shewing of the continuall paines that abide within his brest determineth to die because he can not haue redresse.
The dolefull bell that still dothe ring,The wofull knell of all my ioyes:
The wretched hart dothe perce and wringe,
And fils mine eare with deadly noyes.
The hongry vyper in my brest,
That on my hart dothe lye and gnawe:
Dothe dayly brede my new vnrest,
And deper sighes dothe cause me drawe.
And though I force bothe hande and eye,
On pleasant matter to attende:
My sorowes to deceaue therby,
And wretched life for to amende.
Yet goeth the mill within my hart,
Which gryndeth nought but paine and wo:
And turneth all my ioye to smart,
The euill corne it yeldeth so.
Though Venus smile with yeldyng eyes,
And swete musike both play and singe:
Yet doth my sprites fele none of these,
The clacke dothe at mine eare so ringe.
As smallest sparckes vncared for,
To greatest flames dothe sonest growe,
Euen so did this myne inwarde sore,
Begin in game and ende in wo.
And now by vse so swift it goeth,
That nothing can mine eares so fil:
But that the clacke it ouergoeth,
And plucketh me backe into the myll.
But since the mill will nedes about,
The pinne wheron the whele dothe go:
I wyll assaye to strike it out,
And so the myll to ouerthrow.
Aa2v
For loue Appollo
The power of loue ouer gods them selues.
For loue Appollo (his Godhead set aside)Was seruant to the kyng of Thessaley,
Whose daughter was so pleasant in his eye,
That bothe his harpe and sawtrey he defide.
And bagpipe solace of the rurall bride,
Did puffe and blowe and on the holtes hy,
His cattell kept with that rude melody,
And oft eke him that doth the heauens gyde.
Hath loue transformed to shapes for him to base
Transmuted thus sometime a swan is he,
Leda taccoye, and eft Europe to please,
A milde white bull, vnwrinckled front and face,
Suffreth her play tyll on his backe lepeth she,
Whom in great care he ferieth through the seas.
Svch waiward waies
Of the sutteltye of craftye louers.
Svch waiward waies haue some when folly stirres their brainesTo fain & plaine full oft of loue when lest they fele his paynes.
And for to shew a griefe such craft haue they in store,
That they can halt and lay a salue wheras they fele no sore.
As hounde vnto the fote, or dogge vnto the bow,
So are they made to vent her out whom bent to loue they know
That if I should discribe on hundred of their driftes
Two hu[n]dred witts beside mine owne I should put to their shiftes
No woodman better knowes how for to lodge his dere,
Nor shypman on the sea that more hath skill to guide the stere
Nor beaten dogge to herd can warer chose his game,
Nor scholeman to his fansy can a scholer better frame.
Then one of these which haue olde Ouids art in vre,
Can seke the wayes vnto their minde a woman to allure.
As rounde about a hiue the bees do swarme alway,
So rounde about [the] house they prease wherin they seke their pray.
And whom they so besege, it is a wonderous thing,
What crafty engins to assault these wily warriers bring.
The eye as scout and watch to stirre both to and fro,
Aa3r
Doth serue to stale her here & there where she doth come and go,
The tonge doth plede for right as herauld of the hart:
And both the handes as oratours do serue to point theyr part.
So shewes the countinaunce then with these fowre to agree,
As though in witnes with the rest it wold hers sworne be.
But if she then mistrust it would turne black to whyte,
For that the woorrier lokes most smoth whe[n] he wold fainest bite.
Then wit as counsellor a help for this to fynde:
Straight makes [the] hand as secretayr forthwith to write his minde
And so the letters straight embassadours are made,
To treate in hast for to procure her to a better trade.
Wherin if she do think all this is but a shewe,
Or but a subtile masking cloke to hyde a craft ye shrewe.
Then come they to the larme, then shew they in the fielde,
Then muster they in colours strange that wayes to make her yeld
Then shoote they batrye of, then compasse they her in,
At tilte and turney oft they striue this selly soule to win.
Then sound they on their Lutes then strain they forth their so[n]ge,
Then romble they with instrumentes to laye her quite a long.
Then borde they her with giftes then doe they woe and watche,
Then night and day they labour hard this simple holde to catche.
As pathes within a woode, or turnes within a mase:
So then they shewe of wyles & craftes they can a thousand wayes
Girt in my giltlesse gowne
Of the dissembling louer.
Girt in my giltlesse gowne as I sit here and sow,I see that thynges are not in dede as to the outward show.
And who so list to loke and note thinges somewhat nere:
Shall fynd wher playnesse semes to hau[n]t nothing but craft appere
For with indifferent eyes my self can well discerne,
How some to guide a ship in stormes seke for to take the sterne.
Whose practise yf were proued in calme to stere a barge,
Assuredly beleue it well it were to great a charge.
And some I see agayne sit styll and saye but small,
That could do ten tymes more than they that saye they can do all.
Whose goodly giftes are such the more they vnderstande,
The more they seke to learne and knowe & take lesse charge in ha[n]d
And to declare more plain the tyme fletes not so fast:
But I can beare full well in minde the songe now sou[n]ge and past.
The authour wherof came wrapt in a craftye cloke:
Aa3v
With will to force a flamyng fire where he could raise no smoke.
If power and will had ioynde as it appeareth plaine,
The truth nor right had tane no place their vertues had ben vain.
So that you may perceiue, and I may safely se,
The innocent that giltlesse is, condemned should haue be.
As Lawrell leaues
The promise of a constant louer.
As Lawrell leaues that cease not to be grene,From parching sunne, nor yet from winters thrette:
As hardened oke that fearth no sworde so kene,
As flint for toole in twaine that will not frette.
As fast as rocke or piller surely set
So fast am I to you and aye haue bene.
Assuredly whom I can not forget,
For ioy, for paine, for torment nor for tene.
For losse, for gayne, for frownyng, nor for thret.
But euer one, yea bothe in calme or blast,
Your faithfull frende, and will be to my last.
False may he be
Against him that had slaundered a gentlewoman with him selfe
False may he be, and by the powers aboue,Neuer haue he good spede or lucke in loue.
That so can lye or spot the worthy fame,
Of her for whom thou .R. art to blame.
For chaste Diane that hunteth still the chase,
And all her maides that sue her in the race.
With faire bowes bent and arrowes by their side,
Can saye that thou in this hast falsely lied.
For neuer honge the bow vpon the wall,
Of Dianes temple no nor neuer shall.
Of broken chaste the sacred vowe to spot,
Of her whom thou doste charge so large I wot.
But if ought be wherof her blame may rise,
It is in that she did not well aduise
To marke the right as now she dothe thee know,
False of thy dedes false of thy talke also.
Lurker of kinde like serpent layd to bite,
Aa4r
As poyson hid vnder the suger white.
What daunger suche? So was the house defilde,
Of Collatiue: so was the wife begilde.
So smarted she, and by a trayterous force,
The Cartage quene so she fordid her corse.
So strangled was the R. so depe can auoyde,
Fye traytour fye, to thy shame be it sayd,
Thou dunghyll crowe that crokest agaynst the rayne,
Home to thy hole, brag not with Phebe agayne.
Carrion for the and lothsome be thy voyce,
Thy song is fowle I wery of thy noyce.
Thy blacke fethers, which are thy wearyng wede.
Wet them with teares and sorowe for thy dede.
And in darke caues, where yrkesome wormes do crepe,
Lurke thou all daye, and flye when thou shouldest slepe.
And neuer light where liuyng thing hath life,
But eat and drinke where stinche and filthe is rife.
For she that is a fowle of fethers bryght,
Admit she toke some pleasure in thy sight.
As fowle of state sometimes delight to take,
Fowle of meane sort their flight with them to make.
For play of winge or solace of their kinde:
But not in sort as thou dost breke thy mynde.
Not for to treade with such foule fowle as thou,
No no I swere and I dare it here auowe.
Thou neuer settest thy fote within her nest,
Boast not so broade then to thine owne vnrest.
But blushe for shame for in thy face it standes,
And thou canst not vnspot it with thy handes.
For all the heauens against thee recorde beare,
And all in earth against thee eke will sweare.
That thou in this art euen none other man,
But as the iudges were to Susan than.
Forgers of that where to their lust them prickt,
Bashe, blaser then the truth hath thee conuict.
And she a woman of her worthy fame,
Vnspotted standes, and thou hast caught the shame.
And there I pray to God that it may rest,
False as thou art, as false as is the best,
That so canst wrong the noble kinde of man,
In whom all trouth furst floorist and began.
And so hath stande till now the wretched part,
Aa4v
Hath spotted vs of whose kinde one thou art.
That all the shame that euer rose or may,
Of shamefall dede on thee may light I saye.
And on thy kinde, and thus I wishe thee rather,
That all thy sede may like be to their father.
Vntrue as thou, and forgers as thou art,
So as all we be blamelesse of thy part.
And of thy dede. And thus I do thee leaue,
Still to be false, and falsely to deceaue.
I heard when Fame
A praise of maistresse Ryce.
I Heard when Fame with thundryng voice did sommon to appereThe chiefe of natures children all that kinde had placed here.
To view what brute by vertue got their liues could iustly craue,
And bade the[m] shew what praise by truth they worthy were to haue
Wherwith I saw how Venus came and put her selfe in place,
And gaue her ladies leue at large to stand and pleade their case.
Eche one was calde by name arowe, in that assemble there,
That hence are gone or here remaines in court or otherwhere.
A solemne silence was proclaimde, the iudges sate and heard,
What truth could tell or craft could faine, & who should be preferd.
Then beauty stept before the barre, whose brest and neck was bare
With heare trust vp and on her head a caule of gold she ware.
Thus Cupides thralles began to flock whose hongry eyes did say
That she had stayned all the dames that present were that day.
For er she spake w[ith] whispring words, the prease was filde through-out
And fansy forced common voyce therat to geue a shoute.
Which cried to fame take forth thy trump, & sound her praise on hie
That glads the hart of euery wight that her beholdes with eye.
What stirre and rule (quod order than) do these rude people make,
We holde her best that shall deserue a praise for vertues sake.
This sentence was no soner said but beauty therewith blusht,
The audience ceased with the same, and euery thing was whusht.
Then finenesse thought by trainyng talke to win that beauty lost,
And whet her tonges with ioly wordes, and spared for no cost.
Yet wantonnesse could not abide, but brake her tale in haste,
And peuishe pride for pecockes plumes wold nedes be hiest plast.
And therwithall came curiousnesse and carped out of frame.
Bb1r
The audience laught to here the strife as they beheld the same.
Yet reason sone appesde the brute, her reuerence made and don,
She purchased fauour for to speake and thus her tale begoon,
Sins bountye shall the garland were and crowned be by fame,
O happy iudges call for her for she deserues the same.
Where te[m]perance gouernes bewtyes flowers & glory is not sought
And shamefast mekenes mastreth pride & vertue dwels in thought
Byd her come forth and shew her face or els assent eche one,
That true report shall graue her name in gold or marble stone.
For all the world to rede at will what worthines doth rest,
In perfect pure vnspotted life which she hath here possest.
Then skill rose vp and sought the preace to find if [that] he might
A person of such honest name that men should praise of right.
This one I saw full sadly sit and shrinke her self a side,
Whose sober lokes did shew what gifts her wiefly grace did hide
Lo here (quod skill, good people all) is Lucrece left aliue,
And she shall most excepted be that lest for praise did striue.
No lenger fame could hold her peace, but blew a blast so hye,
That made an eckow in the ayer and sowning through the sky.
The voice was loude & thus it sayd come Rise with happy daies,
Thy honest life hath wonne the fame & crowned thee with praies.
And when I heard my maistres name I thrust amids the throng.
And clapt my handes and wisht of god [that] she might prosper long.
I ne can close
Of one vniustly defamed.
I Ne can close in short and cunning verse,Thy worthy praise of bountie by desart:
The hatefull spite and slaunder to reherse.
Of them that see but know not what thou art,
For kind by craft hath wrought thee so to eye,
That no wight may thy wit and vertue spye.
But he haue other fele then outward sight,
The lack wherof doth hate and spite to trie
Thus kind thy craft is let of vertues light:
See how the outward shew the wittes may dull:
Not of the wise but as the most entend,
Minerua yet might neuer perce their scull,
That Circes cup and Cupides brand hath blend.
Bb1v
Whose fonde affects now sturred haue their braine,
So dothe thy hap thy hue with colour staine.
Beauty thy foe thy shape doubleth thy sore,
To hide thy wit and shewe thy vertue vayne,
Fell were thy fate, if wisdome were not more.
I meane by thee euen G. by name,
Whom stormy windes of enuy and disdaine,
Do tosse with boisteous blastes of wicked fame.
Where stedfastnesse as chiefe in thee dothe raigne,
Pacience thy setled minde dothe guide and stere,
Silence and shame with many resteth there.
Till time thy mother list them forth to call,
Happy is he that may enioye them all.
Yet once againe my muse
Of the death of the late county of Penbroke.
Yet once againe my muse I pardon pray,Thine intermitted song if I repete:
Not in such wise as when loue was my pay,
My ioly wo with ioyfull verse to treat.
But now (vnthanke to our desert be geuen,
Which merite not a heauens gift to kepe)
Thou must with me bewaile that fate hath reuen,
From earth a iewell laied in earth to slepe.
A iewell, yea a gemme of womanhed,
Whose perfect vertues linked as in chaine:
So did adorne that humble wiuelyhed,
As is not rife to finde the like againe.
For wit and learnyng framed to obey,
Her husbandes will that willed her to vse
The loue he bare her chiefely as a staye,
For all her frendes that would her furtherance chuse.
Well sayd therfore a heauens gift she was,
Because the best are sonest hence bereft:
And though her selfe to heauen hence did passe,
Her spoyle to earth from whence it came she left.
And to vs teares her absence to lament,
And eke his chance that was her make by lawe:
Whose losse to lose so great an ornament,
Let them esteme which true loues knot can draw.
Bb2r
Why fearest thou
That eche thing is hurt of it selfe.
Why fearest thou thy outward foe,When thou thy selfe thy harme doste fede,
Of griefe, or hurt, of paine, of wo,
Within eche thing is sowen the sede.
So fine was neuer yet the cloth,
No smith so harde his yron did beate:
But thone consumed was with mothe,
Thother with canker all to fret.
The knotty oke and weinscot old,
Within dothe eat the silly worme:
Euen so a minde in enuy rold,
Alwayes within it self doth burne.
Thus euery thing that nature wrought,
Within it self his hurt doth beare:
No outward harme nede to be sought,
Where enmies be within so neare.
The flickeryng fame
Of the choise of a wife.
The flickeryng fame that flieth from eare to eare.And aye her strength encceaseth with her flight
Geues first the cause why men to heare delight,
Of those whom she dothe note for beauty bright.
And with this fame that flieth on so fast,
Fansy dothe hye when reason makes no haste
And yet not so content they wishe to see
And thereby knowe if fame haue sayd aright.
More trustyng to the triall of their eye,
Then to the brute that goes of any wight.
Wise in that poynt that lightly will not leeue,
Vnwise to seke that may them after greue.
Who knoweth not how sight may loue allure,
And kindle in the hart a hotte desire:
The eye to worke that fame could not procure,
Of greater cause there commeth hotter fire.
For ere he wete him self he feleth warme,
The fame and eye the causers of his harme.
Bb2v
Let fame not make her knowen whom I shall know,
Nor yet mine eye therin to be my guide:
Suffiseth me that vertue in her grow,
Whose simple life her fathers walles do hide.
Content with this I leaue the rest to go,
And in such choise shall stande my welth and wo.
Who loues to liue in peace
Descripcion of an vngodlye worlde.
WHo loues to liue in peace, and marketh euery change,Shal hear such news fro[m] time to time, as semeth woderous stra[n]ge.
Such fraude in frendly lokes, such frendshippe all for gayne:
Such cloked wrath in hatefull harts, which worldly men retayne.
Such fayned flatteryng fayth, amongs both hye and low:
Such great deceite, such subtell wittes, the pore to ouerthrowe.
Such spite in sugred tonges, such malice full of pride:
Such open wrong such great vntruth, which can not go vnspied.
Such restlesse sute for roumes, which bringeth men to care:
Such slidyng downe from slippry seates, yet can we not beware.
Such barkyng at the good, such bolstrynge of the yll:
Such threatnyng of the wrathe of God, such vyce embraced styll.
Such striuynge for the best, such climyng to estate:
Such great dissemblyng euery where, such loue all mixt wyth hate
Such traynes to trap the iust, such prollyng faultes to pyke:
Such cruell wordes for speakyng truth, who euer hearde the like.
Such strife for stirryng strawes, such discord dayly wrought,
Such forged tales dul wits to blind, such matters made of nought
Such trifles tolde for trouth, such credityng of lyes,
Such silence kept when foles do speake, such laughyng at the wise
Such plenty made so scarce, such criyng for redresse,
Such feared signes of our decay, which tong dares not expresse.
Such chaunges lightly markt, such troubles still apperes,
Which neuer were before this time, no not this thousand yeres.
Such bribyng for the purse, which euer gapes for more,
Such hordyng vp of worldly welth, such kepyng muck in store.
Such folly founde in age, such will in tender youth,
Such sundry sortes among great clarkes, & few [that] speake the truth
Such falshed vnder craft, and such vnstedfast wayes,
Was neuer sene within mens hartes, as is found now adayes.
Bb3r
The cause and ground of this is our vnquiet minde,
Which thinkes to take those goods away which we must leue be-hinde.
Why do men seke to get which they cannot possesse,
Or breke their slepes w[ith] carefull thoughtes & all for wretchednes.
Though one amonges a skore, hath welth and ease a while,
A thousand want which toyleth sore and trauaile many a mile.
And some although they slepe, yet welth falles in their lap,
Thus some be riche and some be pore as fortune geues the hap,
Wherfore I holde him wise which thinkes himself at ease,
And is content in simple state both god and man to please.
For those that liue like gods and honored are to day,
Within short time their glory falles as flowers do fade away.
Vncertein is their lifes on whom this world will frowne,
For though they sit aboue [the] starres a storm may strike the[m] downe
In welth who feares no fall may slide from ioy full sone,
There is no thing so sure on earth but changeth as the Mone.
What pleasure hath the riche or ease more then the pore,
Although he haue a plesant house his trouble is the more.
They bowe and speake him fayre, which seke to suck his blood,
And some do wishe his soule in hell and all to haue his good.
The coueting of the goodes doth nought but dull the spirite,
And some men chaunce to tast the sower that gropeth for the swete
The riche is still enuied by those which eate his bred,
With fawning spech and flattering tales his eares are dayly fed.
In fine I see and proue the riche haue many foes,
He slepeth best and careth lest that litle hath to lose.
As time requireth now who would avoide much strife,
Were better liue in pore estate then leade a princes life.
To passe those troblesome times I see but little choise,
But help to waile with those that wepe & laugh when they reioise
For as we se to day our brother brought in care,
To morow may we haue such chance to fall with him in snare,
Of this we may be sure, who thinkes to sit most fast,
Shal sonest fal like wethered leaues that cannot bide a blast.
Though that the flood be great, the ebbe as lowe doth ronne,
When euery man hath playd his part our pagent shalbe donne.
Who trustes this wretched world I hold him worse then mad,
Here is not one that fereth god the best is all to badde.
For those that seme as saintes are deuilles in their dedes:
Though [that] the earth bringes forth some flowers it beareth many wedes.
I se no present help from mischief to preuaile,
But flee the seas of worldly cares or beare a quiet sayle.
Bb3v
For who that medleth least shall saue him sesfe from smart,
Who styrres an oare in euery boat shal play a folish part.
Walkyng the pathe
The dispairyng louer lamenteth.
Walkyng the pathe of pensiue thought,I askt my hart how came this wo.
Thine eye (quod he) this care me brought.
Thy minde, thy witte, thy will also
Enforceth me to loue her euer,
This is the cause ioye shall I neuer.
And as I walkt as one dismayde,
Thinkyng that wrong this wo me lent:
Right, sent me worde by wrath, which sayd,
This iust iudgement to thee is sent:
Neuer to dye, but diyng euer,
Till breath thee faile, ioy shalt thou neuer.
Sithe right doth iudge this wo tendure,
Of health, of wealth, of remedy:
As I haue done so be she sure,
Of fayth and trouth vntill I dye.
And as this payne cloke shall I euer,
So inwardly ioye shall I neuer.
Gripyng of gripes greue not so sore,
Nor serpentes styng causeth such smarte,
Nothing on earth may payne me more,
Then sight that perst my wofull hart.
Drowned with cares styll to perseuer,
Come death betimes, ioye shall I neuer.
O libertie why doest thou swarue,
And steale away thus all at ones:
And I in pryson like to sterue,
For lacke of fode do gnaw on bones.
My hope and trust in thee was euer,
Now thou art gone ioye shall I neuer.
But styll as one all desperate,
To leade my life in miserie:
Sith feare from hope hath lockt the gate,
Where pity should graunt remedye.
Bb4r
Dispaire this lotte assignes me euer,
To liue in payne. Ioee shall I neuer.
From worldly wo
An epitaph of maister Henry williams.
From worldly wo the mede of misbeliefe,From cause of care that leadeth to lament,
From vaine delight the grounde of greater griefe,
From feare from frendes, from matter to repent,
From painfull panges last sorow that is sent.
From drede of death sithe death dothe set vs free,
With it the better pleased should we be.
This lothsome life where likyng we do finde,
Thencreaser of our crimes: dothe vs beriue,
Our blisse that alway ought to be in minde.
This wyly worlde whiles here we breath aliue,
And fleshe our fayned fo, do stifely striue
To flatter vs assuryng here the ioye,
Where we alas do finde but great annoy.
Vntolde heapes though we haue of worldly welth,
Though we possesse the sea and frutefull grounde,
Strength, beauty, knowledge, and vnharmed helth,
Though at our wishe all pleasure do abound.
It were but vaine, no frendship can be founde,
When death assaulteth with his dredfull dart.
No raunsome can stay the home hastyng hart.
And sithe thou hast cut the liues line in twaine,
Of Henry, sonne to sir Iohn Williams knight,
Whose manly hart and prowes none coulde stayne.
Whose godly life to vertue was our light,
Whose worthy fame shall florishe long by right.
Though in this life so cruell mightest thou be,
His spirite in heauen shall triumph ouer thee.
To false report
Against a gentlewoman by whom he was refused.
To false report and flying fame,While erst my minde gaue credite light,
Bb4v
Beleuyng that her bolstred name
Had stuffe to shew that praise did hight.
I finde well now I did mistake,
Vpon report my gounde to make.
I hearde it sayd such one was she,
As rare to finde as parragon,
Of lowly cheare of heart so free,
As her for bounty could passe none.
Such one sofaire though forme and face,
Were meane to passe in seconde place.
I sought it neare thinkyng to finde,
Report and dede both to agree:
But chaunge had tride her suttell minde,
Of force I was enforced to see,
That she in dede was nothing so,
Which made my will my hart forgo.
For she is such as geason none,
And what she most may bost to be:
I finde her matches mo then one,
What nede she so to deale with me?
Ha flering face with scornefull harte,
So yll rewarde for good desert?
I will repent that I haue done,
To ende so well the losse is small,
I lost her loue, that lesse hath wonne,
To vaunt she had me as her thrall.
What though a gyllot sent that note,
By cocke and pye I meant it not.
Lo here lieth G.
An epitaphe written by w. G. to be set vpon his owne graue.
Lo here lieth G. vnder the grounde,Emong the greedy wormes:
Which in his life time neuer founde,
But strife and sturdy stormes.
And namely through a wicked wife,
As to the worlde apperes:
Cc1r
She was the shortnyng of his life
By many daies and yeres.
He might haue liued long god wot,
His yeres they were but yong:
Of wicked wiues this is the lot,
To kill with spitefull tong.
Whose memory shall still remaine,
In writyng here with me:
That men may know whom she hath slaine.
And say this same is she.
If that thy wicked wife
An aunswere.
If that thy wicked wife had spon the thred,And were the weauer of thy wo:
Then art thou double happy to be dead,
As happily dispatched so.
If rage did causelesse cause thee to complaine,
And mad moode mouer of thy mone:
If frensy forced on thy testy braine:
Then blist is she to liue alone.
So, whether were the ground of others griefe,
Because so doutfull was the dome:
Now death hath brought your payne a right reliefe,
And blessed be ye bothe become:
She that she liues no lenger bounde to beare
The rule of such a frowarde hed:
Thou that thou liuest no lenger faine to feare
The restlesse ramp that thou hadst wedde.
Be thou as glad therfore that thou art gone,
As she is glad she dothe abide.
For so ye be a sonder, all is one:
A badder match cad not betide.
A man may liue
Against women either good or badde.
A Man may liue thrise Nestors life,Thrise wander out Vlisses race:
Cc1v
Yet neuer finde Vlisses wife.
Such chaunge hath chanced in this case.
Lesse age will serue than Paris had,
Small peyn (if none be small inough)
To finde good store of Helenes trade.
Such sap the rote dothe yelde the bough.
For one good wife Vlisses slew
A worthy knot of gentle blood:
For one yll wife Grece ouerthrew
The towne of Troy. Sith bad and good
Bring mischiefe: Lord, let be thy will,
To kepe me free from either yll.
The vertue of Vlisses wife
An answere.
The vertue of Vlisses wifeDothe liue, though she hath ceast her race,
And farre surmountes old Nestors life:
But now in moe than then it was.
Such change is chanced in this case.
Ladyes now liue in other trade:
Farre other Helenes now we see,
Than she whom Troyan Paris had.
As vertue fedes the roote, so be
The sap and frute of bough and tree.
Vlisses rage, not his good wife,
Spilt gentle blood. Not Helenes face,
But Paris eye did rayse the strife,
That did the Troyan buildyngs race.
Thus sithe ne good, ne bad do yll:
Them all, O Lord, maintain my will,
To serue with all my force and skyll.
Procryn that some tyme
The louer praieth his seruice to be accepted and his defaultes pardoned.
Cc2r
With hart as true as any louer might,
Yet her betyd in louyng this vnright.
That as in hart with loue surprised thus,
She on a daye to see this Cephalus,
Where he was wont to shrowde him in the shade,
When of his huntyng he an ende had made.
Within the woddes with dredfull fote she stalketh,
So busily loue in her hedde it walketh.
That she to sene him may her not restrayne.
This Cephalus that heard one shake the leaues,
Vprist all egre thrustyng after pray,
With darte in hande him list no further dayne,
To see his loue but slew her in the greues,
That ment to him but perfect loue alway.
So curious bene alas the rites all,
Of mighty loue that vnnethes may I thinke,
In his high seruice how to loke or winke,
Thus I complaine that wrechedest am of all.
To you my loue and souerayne lady dere,
That may myne hart with death or life stere
As ye best list. That ye vouchsafe in all
Mine humble seruice. And if that me misfall,
By negligence, or els for lacke of witte,
That of your mercy you do pardon it,
And thinke that loue made Procrin shake the leaues,
When with vnright she slayne was in the greues.
Lyke the Phenix
Description and praise of his loue.
Lyke the Phenix a birde most rare in sightWith golde and purple that nature hath drest:
Such she me semes in whom I most delight,
If I might speake for enuy at the least.
Nature I thinke first wrought her in despite,
Of rose and lillye that sommer bringeth first,
Cc2v
In beauty sure excedyng all the rest,
Vnder the bent of her browes iustly pight:
As polisht Diamondes, or Saphires at the least:
Her glistryng lightes the darkenesse of the night.
Whose little mouth and chinne like all the rest.
Her ruddy lippes excede the corall quite.
Her yuery teeth where none excedes the rest.
Faultlesse she is from fote vnto the waste.
Her body small and straight as mast vpright.
Her armes long in iust proporcion cast,
Her handes depaint with veines all blew and white.
What shall I say for that is not in sight?
The hidden partes I iudge them by the rest.
And if I were the forman of the quest,
To geue a verdite of her beauty bright,
Forgeue me Phebus, thou shouldst be dispossest,
Which doest vsurpe my ladies place of right.
Here will I cease lest enuy cause dispite.
But nature when she wrought so fayre a wight,
In this her worke she surely did entende,
To frame a thing that God could not amende.
To trust the fayned face
An answere to a song before imprinted beginnyng. To walke on doutfull grounde.
To trust the fayned face, to rue on forced teares,To credit finely forged tales, wherin there oft appeares
And breathes as from the brest a smoke of kindled smart,
Where onely lurkes a depe deceit within the hollow hart,
Betrayes the simple soule, whom plaine deceitlesse minde
Taught not to feare that in it self it self did neuer finde.
Not euery tricklyng teare doth argue inward paine:
Not euery sigh dothe surely shewe the sigher not to fayne:
Not euery smoke dothe proue a presence of the fire:
Not euery glistring geues the golde, that gredy folke desire:
Not euery wailyng word is drawen out of the depe:
Cc3r
Not griefe for want of graunted grace enforceth all to wepe.
Oft malice makes the minde to shed the boyled brine:
And enuies humor oft vnlades by conduites of the eyen.
Oft craft can cause the man to make a semyng show
Of hart with dolour all distreined, where griefe did neuer grow.
As cursed Crocodile most cruelly can toll.
With truthlesse teares, vnto his death, the silly pitiyng soule.
Blame neuer those therfore, that wisely can beware
The guillful man, that suttly sayth him selfe to dread the snare.
Blame not the stopped eares against the Syrenes song:
Blame not the mind not moued w[ith] mone of falsheds flowing tong.
If guile do guide your wit by silence so to speake,
By craft to craue and faine by fraude the cause [that] you wold breake:
Great harme your suttle soule shall suffer for the same:
And mighty loue will wreke the wrong so cloked with his name.
But we, whom you haue warnde, this lessor learne by you:
To know the tree before we clime, to trust no rotten bowe,
To view the limed bushe, to loke afore we light,
To shunne the perilous bayted hoke, and vse a further sight.
As do the mouse, the birde, the fishe, by sample fitly show,
That wyly wittes and ginnes of men do worke the simples wo:
So, simple sithe we are, and you so suttle be,
God help the mouse, the birde, [the] fishe, & vs your sleights to fle.
Cc3v
| "Songes and Sonettes written by the ryght honorable
Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other" | |