for pleasure and delite and dedicated where I desire my duetifull good will maie be embraced The matters I treate of are written of sutche sondrie humours and subiectes that thei are more to be redd for the varietie of woordes then for the goodnesse of the verses and the cause why and wherefore I dedicate sutche a matter to your Lordship is for that I would be sorie that my daies and yeres should bee spent with the losse of tyme and that my labour and studie well ment should be forgotten and caste in a corner for waÌ„t of the printing The strange motions and maner of the writyng showes nothyng but the nature of mans fansies that neuer continueth in one kinds of consait The occasions of so many seuerall discourses rose but on the innumerable deuises of the hed that euer in one pointe or other by imagination is occupied And the whole somme and substance of that whiche is written is but to publish to the worlde that ill is better to be meanely exercised in honest pastymes then basely bent and giuen to barraine slothe and Idelnesse Thus trustyng your good Lordship will take in good part a part of the portion that from the heauens is giuen me I presente vnto your handes this newe yere some of mine old labors studies Printed al bound in one newe volume for sutche as pleases to buye them And so as beste becommeth me and duetie commaundes I remaine a well willer to your honour duryng my life moste willyngly at commaundemente Thomas Churchyard Churchyardes Chance My Ladie of Lennoyes graces Epitaphe YOU noble dames of greatest birth whose fame to clouds would flye On this cold cors with warme good will bowe doune your iudgyng eye To see how fleshe and blood must fall to dust when race is ronne And worldly brute and honours blaste shall ende where it begonne If stately name or high renowne might make her bodie liue Or Princes blood to life and breath might here a patente giue This Ladie had not tasted death nor felte in sondrie thyngs Suche crossyng chance and froward fate as to her graue she brings Was neuer wight with troubles toste so sore and past them soe For in her breast from tender yeres a gulffe of greef did floe Scan that whiche best can skill of woe her sorrowes were so greate That when I waie a dram thereof my face and browes doe sweate But though she founde her fortune harde a staied mynde she bore A worthie hedde where sober witte by heapes laie hid in store Her gesture shewd from whence she came her words moste graue wyes And honours beame like burnyng Lampe did blase amid her eyes A presence that could freends coÌ„maunde and hold her foes full mute A noble harte where bounties budds did blome and beare good frute What needs more words to proue a trothe so rare her vertues were That who presumes to hit them right maie misse the marke I fere As you that mourne are cladde with blacke in white her soule doeth shine Transformd froÌ„ fleshe to angels kinde or sacred shape deuine Where fortunes threate caÌ„ doe no harme nor worldly foile she fears And eche good ghost in glorie greate doeth make an ende of tears Her life my gaine her death my losse her fauour helpt my state Her laste farewell leaues freends behinde to waile the losse too late FINIS ¶ An Epitaphe of sir Nicholas Bacon Knight late Lorde Keeper THE lodestarre that good Pilotts likt crept vnder cloude of late A suddaine storme hath knapt in twoo a staffe of publicke sâ—ate Out of our goodlie golden Ryng is falne a precious stone The lande that sutche a Iewell lacks hath cause to morne and mone The babes that seeth their parents dye of duetie sheds some teares But when a Pillar falleth doune that countries burthen beares The common wealth doeth bide a shocke and ioynts in sonder shake If not in steade of auncient propp a newe defence we make A father to all forward witts who fostred lawe and right A Sunne that shone through highest clouds yet gaue belowe greate light Who will not waile that knowes the want well Englande sutche a glas Shall seldome shine in thee againe as worthie Bacon was A flood of sence and sugred sappe came flowyng from his braine Ne Tulles toung nor Petracks penne nor stoute wise Catoes vaine Maie not surmount the philed phrase and reche of Bacons hedd His voice was smothe as Organe pipe and looke what Bacon sedd Was held for Lawe iudgement greate the sentence was so swete The words were of so deepe a fetche and sprong from suche a sprete He spent no speeche nor words in waste and where his promes past Performance hasted out of hande and followd on as faste To God to Prince and Iustice rules a greate regard he tooke Not on the man but on the cause and matter would he looke Disposde and bente to doe muche good but namely vnto those To whom dame vertues learned lore did gifts of grace disclose His countries care cutts of his daies and brings theÌ„ dim dark night That wisely cannot waye the weight and worth of sutche a wight He liues in laude and lanterne like he lastes with blasyng fame We die world weares out our praise where shines his noble name Moste noble are those burnyng lampes moste clerest light thei shoe That leaues a torche which giues vs light wheÌ„ heÌ„ce froÌ„ vs thei goe FINIS ¶ Sir Hugh Pauletts Epitaphe NO verse a vailes ne teares maie serue to waile the want at full My witts are weake my words but bare my penne but base and dull To frame in forme and stately stile the lines I ought to write I finde my muse orecome with cares my reason banishe quite My hedde so fraught with cold conceits of newes I knowe full well That I had rather crie and rore and shrillie houle and yell Then treate of dreadfull deaths despite who daiely doeth deuoure The noblest fruits of Natures mould and pluckes the purest flowre Death neither looks on mens renowne nor who maie best be spard But like a Theef stealls life awaie and striks without regard Not takyng those that vertue wants and fills the worlde with vice But snapps vp suche that people praise worlde holds moste in price As loe of late to well was seen when Paulet left his life Forsooke his freends desired the graue and went from worthy wife To liue and lodge in loftie Skies where blessed angells are And good mens souls doe suretie finde and rest from worldly care No maruell though our troubled sprits doe make a swete exchange And leaues this sowre and bitter soile and will some couÌ„trie straÌ„ge To goe where Gods in glorie sitts and where our home must bee Yet in my mynde suche partyng is a wonder greate to see When men by toile and labour long haue purchast suche a praise Attainde to wealth and honour bothe through seruice sondrie waies And on the suddaine leaue these pomps and
more O pensiue troubled breste Who sowes in care is sure to reape in reste FINIS A letter in Maie sent to Maister Henry Knowles house at Gobbyns YOur healthfull house that holdes me here with heapes of sweete delite Where Courtlike fare not countrey chere I finde and thereof write Makes me forgett the dompishe daies that hatefull soiles did yelde And feedes my fancie many waies with pleasures of the feeld For here the birdes doe chure and charme as bells of Osney ronge Or els the pretie boyes of Poules amidde the clapper songe Methinke the trees doe tremble still and that the yearth should shake When Nightyngalls in Mornyng graie their merie Musick make For through their throats thei thrust their notes as Organ pipes did sound Te deum and faburthen sweete the Quere had chanted round Here is no noies of churlishe Choughs nor piuishe chattryng Pye Nor screkyng Oule the poste of Death that mak's a fearfull crye Nor pratyng Paret dare not preace in compasse of this place Nor no proude Pecocke commeth here for all his stately grace This soile doeth breede no scornfull bird in whom disdain doth dwell This is a heauen of it self that stands so farre from hell No deuelishe minde maie nestell here for feare thei scoule and lowre This is a pleasant plot of ground where Gods haue bilt their bowre Who made a lawe on paine of death that none aproche the seate Except his swéete conceited spéeche prouoketh laughter greate Those hoggishe hedds and lompishe lobbs that muse on mischeef still Are banisht from this fruitfull vaill to digge at Mauuorne hill And yet the dullest dolt that is maie happe to mende his spréete If when his grossest humour comes he tast the nector swéete That I haue founde for loe here dwelles a noble nurse in deede Who for the weaknesse of mens braines she hath so fine a seede It heales the hedache and the cough and comforts so the wittes That man vpon the present helpe forgetts his former fitts This merrie medson workes in me a masse of matter good It makes me walke yea eate and slepe and gather so mutche blood That now greate gobbins gins to growe vpon my Lenten chéekes And leggs are filde with fatt and fleshe that was as leane as Léekes Whiche you shall see and well perciue if long you walke in Poules And so I saie in takyng leaue Adue good maister Knowles FINIS Of the want of will THe daies delaie doeth breede my nights vnreste My wished ioyes makes harte to taste of woe The want of will torments my troubled breste Looke what I seeke of force I must forgoe Helde vp by hope throwne doune by hatefull happe I scape a storme yet slaine through thonder clappe Tweene twoo extremes my life in ballance lyes I feede farre of yet nere the foode I craue My footyng failes and yet my minde doeth ryes I lacke no hope and yet no happ I haue Thus striuyng still agaist the streame of strife I feede the harte and weare awaie the life Who weau's his webbe like Spider on the spraie Maie waite for Flies or spende his tyme in waste Who dwelles in doubt and rests vpon decaie Staies for good lucke where Fortune makes no haste He gropes for smoke and lookes to catche the winde That serues in hope and hatefull happ doeth finde Finis Of twoo vertuous sisters WHen youth was in his prime and Pecockes plumes were gaie And loe amid my laughyng eyen twoo pretie babes did plaie I spake of merrie sports that fedde my fancie than But trackt of tyme hath taught me now to bee a grauer man And iudge by iuste regard of worldly things the weight And learne the witte and sence to see the deepenesse and the height Of eche thing vnder Sonne so that in aged daies I neither leane to leude delites nor stoupe to wanton waies If sweete desires are dedde and luste hath taken leaue And follies freaks are throughly fledde that did vaine youth disceiue My speeche maie credite claime of all that heares the same And I maie freely giue them laude by verse that merits Fame Then preace in place twoo Nimphs that I at Ipswitche sawe Posses suche praies as vertue yeelds by sentence of her lawe And for your maners milde a beautie to good life I wishe that eche of you in deede maie proue a worthie wife And liue to parents ioye and reape renowne therefore And if vnto your owne content my harte could wishe you more You should not haue bare lines at this my laste a due But thondryng blast of endlesse Fame with praies should honor you FINIS ¶ Translated out of Latine TRue wedlocke is true bondage treble fold A double greef of feeble fleshe and spreete So man is drawne as Oxe in market sold That he maie be for endlesse labour meete Who takes a wife is ledde in yoke to drawe And feelyng paine to paine he yeelds from birth Takyng is caught and bryngs hym self in awe And seruyng still is made a drudge on yearth The text showes here who beste by marrage winns In wearie Lome a webbe of woe he spinns Finis ¶ A discription of the goodnesse that growes in Cicilia WHiles rangyng youth did ronne about as rage of humour roes A reatchlesse race I rowsled on as water ebbes and floes And though through toile my tyme consumde yet triall taught me well Here is a place for all our pompe where pilgrims ought to dwell But wildnesse edgde me forward faste to se these worldly ioyes And greedie minde of glory vaine that poffes men vp with toyes Badde wanton will ronne all on hedde and neuer looke behinde Till age on youth had clapt his clokes by cruell course of kinde Thus haled through the hauen mouth where heapes of hazards are Full vnder saile through swellyng seas my ship and I did fare And passyng so to sondrie soiles I sought some suertie still But that was past my compasse cleane and farre beyond my skill For sutche as seekes in Sillas seas a saffetie for his Barke Maie driue a midde Charibdes cliu's and misse the full sea marke Well as my shipp found winde at will so did I make my saile And landyng tooke in sondrie soiles when sea roume seemd to faile So France and Flaunders sawe I through and other lands a score Where vessells in the rode might ride and none might goe on shore But barely was I vittailde still and seldome voide of want And neuer founde good gale of winde as weather were so skant It had no will to serue my tourne in all my iourneis greate Untill I cast a better course and founde a noble seate That men doe call Cicillya where loe sweete Cipres groes And many other precious things more sweete then Muskie roes No soner sought I succour there but straight waies had I aide As though that Deastnie did decree my Barke should there be staied O fruitfull soile full fraught with grace the dewe of heauen fall Bothe daie and night like siluer showres vpon
and talke together still When distance of the tyme and place denies them of their will When furthest of thei seeme thei ioyne in ioye and blis And eurie smart that absence breeds a present pleasure is The fraude and finesse now and tickle trothe in man Maks faithe and freendship thrise as sweete as when it first began In these dessemblyng daies who findes a freende I trowe Hath founde a seconde Phenix sure and needes no further goe Shrine vp that sainct in golde locke vp that Iewell riche Ye cannot in no measures meane of freendship make too mitche FINIS A warnyng from Courte LOoke not for deedes when wordes driu's of the tyme Thei reape but weedes that sowes on barraine grounde Trust not to age when youth is paste his prime Showe not plaine face where finenesse doeth abounde Hope not for grace where Flattrie faunes like whelpe But haunt the place where hope hath readie helpe Spende little wealthe where witte and tyme is loste Creepe from colde Court where freendshipps fire goes out Matche not with Pride nor leane to painted poste Seeke rather Death then liue in daiely doubt Where Enuie liu's and Loue is tournde to luste Good minds doe dye and worlde is not to truste The Sirens song deceiu's the simple eare The hissyng Snake giu's warnyng eare he styng Greate pitts are hid in water smothe and feare The hollowe bell doeth make the sweetest ryng Thus daunger dwells where least the doubt appeers And pleasant feelds doe yeeld moste scratchyng Breers The plainest folke are in the roughest soile The subtlest hedds to golden hâ—ules repaire Who shuns gaie showes shall scape from Fortunes foile Foule weather hangs in Cloudie smilyng aire I can no more but bidde the wise beware Of gallant Court that weares vaine glorie bare FINIS Of a Courtiers life and how the worst sorte findes beste Furtune THis parshall worlde prefarres the fained face And beates hym backe that beares the blotlesse browe As one might saie thei stande in Fortunes grace That worst deseru's and best can flatter now He reaps no Corne that helps to holde the Plowe His gaine is small that labours till he grones He bears the loade that hath the weakest bones The wiely hedde hath witte to watche his howres Like Foxe and Wolfe that seru's them selu's you see The idell hands that neuer planted flowres Takes Honie sweete from sillie labryng Bee Though Fauken faire for Ducke or Partrige flee He feedes on Beefe or other baser meate Thus are thei seru'd that oft doe toile and sweate Some rouns full swift yet still the wager loes Men haue sutche sleight to tripp their fellowes doune We knowe not how the wheele of Fortune goes Nor wherein rests our wealth or right renowne The tromp of Fame giu's sutche vncertaine sowne That badd are good and good haue but badd lucke In happie thyngs or gaine of worldly mucke Next walkyng Iaads and whipyng horses heeles Is Soldiours craft and waityng Courtiers trade The one in feeld bothe cold and honger feeles The other here at home a drudge is made Well all is one to sitt in Sonne or shade If happ giue all no matter who doeth sowe He reaps moste Corne whose Sieth shall furthest goe FINIS Of woordes spoken by a greate personage I Liue that dieth eurie howre my glasse is nere hande roime I fall awaie as doeth a flowre that withers in the Sonne O death dispatche my dolefull daies defar no tyme here in Good Lachis make thou no delaies my fatal threde to spin Thou Clarke I saie that for thy fee doeth ryng the carefull knell Now let me haue some helpe of thee to tolle my passyng bell If by the waie I maie prouoke to shorten now my life This hande of myne shall strike the stroke y t sone shall stint my strife I muse why God did me create and breathd life in my breste And brought me vp to this estate that nere enioyed no reste Why was I fed with milke so oft and pampred vp so long Why was I rockt and laied so softe and lullde with many a song Why was not I vntymely borne when Nature had me wrought That liueth thus as man forlorne and still consumes with thought The Midwife might haue cas'd all this if strangled had I bin Then had my soule been saffe in blis that now lyes dround in sin But looke what God assignde is doen what should I reason more O Lorde my God what hast thou won in plagyng me so sore What honour canst thou haue by me what glorie canst thou haue What seruice can I doe to thee that wisheth thus my graue And in this plite to dye thou knowest so farre from quiet frame Before I should yeeld vp the ghost I might blaspheme thy name The worlde disdains to see my wealth the heauens on me froune The yearth and aire denies me health and Fortune keeps me doune The daie I driue awaie with care the might I waile and weepe The sighes sobs that comes vnware doeth wake me in my slepe The foode that should my life sustaine I finde therein small taste My blood dries vp in eurie vaine loe how I weare and waste Thus eurie thing doeth change his kinde to worke my woe you see And nothyng seru's me to my minde I fall in sutche degree Would God my graue were ready found my shroudyng shete al And dreadfull Death were surely bounde to come when I doe call Finis ¶ A description of Desire LEd by Desire a thrall where fréedome lyes Helde backe by witte when fancie forward hales My greedie will begiles my gasyng eyes Calde home from craft yet caught in cunnyng stales Drawne from my self and made to others call If daunger come Desire is cause of all Prepard for flight my wings are faste in Lyme I swimme in hope and sincke with deepe consaite Deceiu'd by happ yet learnd by losse of tyme To knowe the hooke and yet must misse the baite But bound and ledde a long by swéete Desire I scorche or burne before I féele the fire Desire lackes sight yet leades the sences blinde And wilfull Will waites hard at Daungers héeles Good spéede full leane comes laggyng farre behinde Close harte saies nought that all the sorrowe féeles So thus the man to Death like captiue goes Ledde by Desire that knowes not freends from foes Our life declares Desire can take no reste In soundest sléepes it keepes the minde awake It is a sprite that closely créepes in breste A priuie thought that Warres and Peace doeth make And whom it leads it either throwes hym doune Or liftes hym vp by happ to greate renowne The Soldiour builds his hope on greate Desire The Marchant getts his gaine and wealth thereby The trauelyng wight it paies with noble 〈◊〉 It heales the harte that in Dispaire doeth lye And though some sparks of vice flee from that flame A good Desire maintaines a vertuous name Then blushe I not to yeelde where force doeth faile Desire doeth daunt the strong
starrs or Planetts in the Skise Or fearfull slepes be warnyngs to the wise Of suddaine happs that shall betide and fall Then sure my dreame no fancie is at all At midnight laste when Cocks beganne to crowe Within my bedde I started as I slept Not well awake in slomber as I trowe I sawe a wight whose face was all be wept Whiche softly spake but boldly to me stept Who saied thou man these tears I spill for thee That lou'st thy foes and forcest not on me But since thy tong can knitt and then vntwinde And trapp thy frends whose trust is in thy trothe And sekest chaunge with sutche a greedy minde And so forgetts thy vowe and solempne othe Thou madest to me when we consented bothe To ioyne in one since thou from that doest flee The Gods graunt I shall reuenged bee But sure thy plague I pitie very sore Thy conscience shall condempne thee eury where And like as Caine his life did here abore And where he went he liued still in feare Yea so shalbe the scourge that that thou shalt beare And then at length when none shall ridde thy paine Shalt kill thy self loe so thou shalt be slaine These wordes so saied she flang out of the dore With browes ibent and angrie visage redde Wherewith I rose and lept vpon the flore And smote my breast and hanged doune the hedde And yet with paine I crept into the bedde And gaue a sigh and waked euen so And then my dreame I rouled to and fro And as I waied how clere yet stood my care And saw how dreames prou's oft too true God knowse I saied no worde but still I laye a space Till one came in and fell to brushe my close Then so from bedde a heauie man I rose Misdoubtyng still though yet full clere I was Least some ill chaunce might bryng my dreame to pas FINIS Of a harde worlde HArdnesse is hedstrong and will not be hampred Larges straite laced and Pride to mutche pampred Spende all with sparyng is so well acquainted That librall free harts in shrine maie be saincted Holdfast will giue nought wealth semeth needy Well hedde is stopped full mouthes are greedy Leane flies are feedyng that long hath been pined None maie be lookt too till honger hath dined Standbacke saieth stoutnesse let freends be first placed Flattrars are faured and trothe still defaced Meane well the harmlesse is euer kept fastyng Doe wrong dreeds nothyng the death euerlastyng Feare nought speeds better then doubt of offendyng Marre all that michar thinks nere of a mendyng Conscience can catche all yet talke muche of Iesu Neede helpe who listeth ye finde fewe that ease you Hye office forgetteth loe frends that nere failed Tyme paste nothyng thought on when some wept and wailed Seeke praies can promes and swiftly repents hym When ye call on hym full close he absents hym Newe sleights vnsaury is now the ryng leader Old trothe small set by that was the true treader Uertue abused the worlde ouer floweth What this will come to at length the Lorde knoweth Mischeef thus Maister men bent to sutche madnesse Maie change ere we ween our mirthe to great sadnesse FINIS Made against Idell and vain Rimes A Penne emploied to vertues things a croune of glory gains But idell verse small profite brings the ynke but paper stains And fills the worlde with follie greate that spryngs on fancies fitts Whiche blotts good name and dulls the minde and doeth abuse the witts The wanton ryme for reatchlesse youth a pleasant bable is Or els a Lanterne voide of light that leads poore Lambs a mis What shame is this to here how men hath loste their sence for loue And daiely dye in leude desiers that doeth mutche mischeef moue What fondnesse can be more then that when louers saie lo here The Goddes of my life and death and ground of gladsome chere What blasphemie is it to call a creature by that name Which God hymself of right should beare and best deseru's the same Put vp your pennes you Poets vaine that piuishe rimes doe make For shame leaue of your Venus songs that kéepeth vice awake Flyng all your Fables in the fire and followe vertues lore That plants the perfite feare of God where vire was graft before His feare kepes kyngs kyngdomes vp and sendeth subiects peace For blesse he but the barrain soile there eche thyng doeth increace The feelds doe florishe full of corne the Haruest is full greate The emptie Barnes maie plentie crie and hongrie findeth meate If men did waie what wealth doeth rise by feare of God alone And what faire works true wisedoms frams vpō the corner stone Thei would no other buildyngs make nor ron and gad so faste To toyes and trifles any where whose blosomes maie not laste Wherefore awaie with wanton trashe sutche ware is waxen stale Shut vp your shopps you Printers all that setts vain Rimes to sale And looke vpon the booke of life and there your cunnyng showe For all the rest but shadowes are as worthie heads doe knowe FINIS Of the vanitie of youth WHen I wanton beardlesse boye became first Venus thrall My cheeks were smoth my browes full plain and rounde as tennis ball My face well filde with liuely blood as youth did paint me out With curled heare mutche like the grasse that in the Spryng doeth sprout With Spathauks eyes in forhed set bothe graye and gredie eke And euery member furnisht well there was no thyng to seke With harte as merry as the birde that syngs on eury spraie With body cled in diuers hewes as freshe as flowre in Maie But all these beuties tooke their leaue from me a long tyme sence And in their place is come a geaste I can not tell from whence But lodge he doeth within my bones thei call hym Age I trowe A droupyng snogg that on his backe hath fardells full of woe Who nill I will I must I beare and yet it lames me mutche My shulders maie my fingers curse when thei the packe did toutche With sloupyng doune to take it vp my youth I haue let fall And after youth went my delits and body pleasures all For furred garments now I call that did in Girkin Iette And fire must kepe me from the Frost or els no warmth I gette The blood forsakes the outward parts and palenesse there remains With feuers cold and crampyng stitche are shronken vp my vaines The skinne lyes flat on eury ioynt vnsemely to your sight And I vnfit for Venus sprots by daie or candell light With eye delits I feede my luste and couetyng desire But when I should maintaine the flame I giue but smoke for fier My hollowe lookes maks some to laugh y ◠hears my youthfull tong When that for age and aking limmes my knell might well be rong I call my reatchlesse yeres to count whose recknyng fears my witts For he that maie controll the same within my conscience sitts And saieth my dallyng daies are doen
on the schoole That learnyng leanes vnto a rotten bowe And Science walks but like a ridyng foole Yea tong and penne are bothe to weake a toole To woorke for gaine in greedie worlde God knowes Where Fortunes flood to needlesse riuer goes Some drinkes their fill yet mak's the worlde beleue Well hedde is drie where water freely glides When poore men weepe sutche laugh within their sleue And smothly looke yet wisely watche their tides In brimmest stormes their Barks at Anker rides When fire would burne so snatche the coales awaie If fauour were in triall as it seems The noble Court a lone were Churchardes staie The fountaine hedde where bubblyng springs do plaie Is fittest place for tree but newly cropt If Cocke would ronne and Conduit were not stopt Who stands belowe and looks till Apples fall And hopes to eate that others shaketh doune Is like to catche a shadowe from a wall Or watche a ball that neuer giu's reboune Constrainde to crie to her that wears the croune I waite myne howre or foerst to parte the lande Thus helplesse man seek's helpe at Caesars hande FINIS ¶ The louers of the worlde I See their sleights and secrete science That sues to serue and are out caste I see those Dames that drawes the lines That shutts the netts when fishe are fast I see some stande and craue a looke Like eager haukes that watche their praie For want of baite thei bite the hooke Like louyng wormes thei spende the daie I see some smile that makes men smart Whiche liu's vnlearnde in louers lawes Yet with their witts and wilie arte With fondlyngs foode thei feede the Dawes Light triflyng toies will children please As well as gold or presious stones The faunyng whelpps thinkes them at ease When fleshe is gone to gnawe the bones I see thee still and quiet sorte When sutche as I the sturdie tempest tries And yeelds to shocks as swellyng surges ries More bold then wise to trouble Casars cares With bare deuise and deawe of barraine braine But dangers doubt and dread of further feares Bids homely gest be bolde and plie the maine Through hazardes greate a gobb of gold we gaine The Dice must ronne and sutche as light on lucke Maie liue from lacke and weald this worldly mucke The Marchant thriu's through ventring ship and goods If vessell scape a flawe or Pirats sleight The Soldiours gaine their fame by manly moods And winns the feeld where coward dare not feight The suter maie not sleepe in things of weight But watche and speake and venter boldly throwe Thei come by fruite that clims the highest bowe Blinde Deastnie deals the dole when all is done Toile reaps but teares and trothe hath emptie hande In vaine the wise about the worlde doeth roune For staie of state that doeth in Destnie stande The haplesse then doeth builde his house on sande No penne preuailes no seruice winns reward Till labours long by Fortune be prefard Where Ladders lacke in vaine the clouds he climes No connyng helpes nor courage can doe good At Cannon mouthe then laye doune idell Rimes And win the reste by death and losse of blood Where seas are drie in vaine we fishe the modd Where neither suite nor seruice getteth grace Flie from the foile and giue fonde Fortune place It maie be so amid the moste extreemes Whiche sitts and marks these ianglyng Iayes Yet findeth game and goodly sport To see sutche birds caught in the spraies I see them laugh when louers lowre There doettyng tyme hath taught them witte Who knowes what meanes bothe sweete and sowre Will flie the force of fancies fitte I see some sheepe but yet no fooles Whiche vse to roome emong the rout Yea skilfull scholers of the schooles For thei can chuse the fairest out The Hunter knowes the fattest Deare Amid the heard where game doeth ronne These men likewise as doeth appeare Emong the Starrs findes out the Sonne I see how crafte can cloke his care And paint his plaints in paper plaine As Marchants doe set forthe their ware And lye full loude for little gaine I see how trothe would tell his taile And through he goes emong the swarme I see how beutie makes a stale To take yong frie that thinks no harme Mutche more is seen that scapes myne eyes An Argoes were full rare to finde This is a glasse to showe the wise That wilfull loue is euer blinde It thinks it doeth it self so shroude That none can see his trade nor trace How should he walke with in a cloude When loue is written in his face Finis ¶ Of a noble mynde THe noble minde that scornes to stoupe at base and wretched things As quicke as thought mountes vp the Skies with swifte aspiryng wings Not lookyng doune to dedde delits that drounds the witts in drosse And carries weake and simple brains about with mucke and mosse But bearyng harte and hedde so hie as iudgement well maie goe The hautie sprit climes through the clouds leau's vain world beloe I meane the manly courage greate that stoutly striues for state Disdains the doltishe donghill Kites and flies the Fancons greate And commyng once to mountain topp from whence men se the vale A loft it keepes like gallant Barke that hath a bouncyng gale Then clap on cloutes and sea roume seeke adue the doubtfull shore In shallowe streame or riuers small we harbour ship no more To loftie seas whose wawes do worke with eche small wind y t bloes Set course and Barke that Pilotes sage maie se how fortune goes The minde is base that diggs and delues where Deastnie scorns to dwel In highest soiles are heauēs sought on earth is nought but hel Who holds doune hed hangs the groine a cowards hart he bears He dares not looke on shinyng Sonne that eury shadowe fears His combe is cutte his courage gon that droupes or takes disgrace The medson for a greate mischaunce is merrie chearfull face The swetest nutts and fairest fruites from topps of trees we take On highest rocks or stately bowes gaie birds their neasts thei make And nere the ground tame dawes do breed simple doues you finde The carrain Crowe flies here beloe when hauke doeth soer y e winde Wherefore let noble mindes alone their course doeth passe our skill Their harts are fild with pleasant hops that feeds their fancies still FINIS ¶ Of doubtfull hope HIs hope is harde that seeks for fire from froste And feeds on flames of eager fancie still And sowes in hope and reapes but labour loste And wisheth mutche and wastes with want of will Whose mountyng mynde builds castles in the aire And heauie harte lyes drounde in deepe dispaire O restlesse race that like the howre glasse ronns With grains of gréef and so beginns againe O fearfull Fate that all good Fortune shunns Oh torment straunge that hath no ende of paine O dreerie life that death disires in deede Whose twined state vntwistes like feeble threede FINIS Of the flantyng worlde THis worlde is
all a flant like Ship full vnder saile As swift to gather as the Ante and slowe to giue as Snaile The Ante in Sommer tyme prouides for Winters foode The Snaile as slowly doeth he clime so doeth he little good The one learnes man to saue the other slowly glides To bid men worke as tyme thei haue to walke watch their tides That lesson of the Snaill is slowlie lookte vnto So that this sillie creepyng soule full little good can doe And hourders vp of wealthe are in the selfsame plite Yet doeth the Ante for deepe foresight mans iudgement more delite But flantyng late came vp the gise is somewhat newe The Rainboes collours doeth it beare and yet it hath no hewe The glorie of the same tenne thousande stains will take And scarce the wisest men doe knowe of flantyng what to make He â—lants with others flowres she brau's in boroude weedes But neuer none could reape good fruite of sutche vain rotten séedes This flantyng squares it out and keeps a cruell coile But in the ende this newe founde toye doth bryng them all to spoile On braury it begonne with beggrie shall it ende This bowe is shapte of sutche a wood shall either breake or bende A flant a flant my boyes but flante to farre farewell Make mutche of worlde ye neither come in heauen nor in hell The saincts disdaine your pompe the Deuills feare your pride Then purchace Purgatorie nowe and there let flantyng bide So flounce and flant your fill good worlde should wearie waxe Of strange deuise that sturrs the state to strife through newe founde knacks Finis Of a fantasticall dreame taken out of Petrarke THe thyng I likte in slepe I founde a dreame vntrue What me mislikt was true I sawe with open eyes A slepe I dreamt and thought my chere had changed hue A wake I felt and founde my former greef aryes You wakened senses now why heare you not and see Those things I heard and sawe when dreames apperde to mee What foolishe custome keeps my wretched eyes accurste In slepe to see the beste awake beholde the worste When pleasantly I slepe a peace was promisde me When wofully I wakt my warres renued againe When pleasantly I slept in blisse I thought to bee When wofully I wakte of hell I felt the paine If truthe annoye me then and falshood please me beste With all my harte I wishe no truthe in me maie reste Since wakyng workes me woe and slepe contents my will God graunt I neuer wake but liue by slepyng still Thrise happie are the beastes by slombryng sleepe that liue Sixe months in quiet rest with eyes iclosed faste I doe not saie sutche slepe a shape of death doeth giue Nor wakyng represent the life that aye doeth laste Contrary humours loe posses my mased minde In wakyng death I feele in slepyng life I finde If slepe the figure be of death as moste men saie Come quickly death O death and close myne eyes in claie Finis A fancie as an answere to that dreame SOme feele by dreams more ioye then any other waie And those doe steale suche sport by nights thei care not for the daie The sicke as well as sounde hath sutche consaits in breste By slombryng slepes and sweuons sweete thei dreame thei haue some reste The thirstie thinks by dreame he drinks and cool's his heate But that I call a cow deuise to quenche a feuer greate So loue that liu's with dreams on fancies foode maie feede Yet want as mutche a slepe or wake as thei that starue for neede If pleasure we conceiue through sight the same doeth growe Then wakyng is the cheefest freend and slepe a mortall foe The eye must first be fixt ere senses feelyng finde And so in slepe some watchyng sprite awakes the drousie minde Though body seems to slepe and takes his ease in bedde The vitall vaines are woorkyng still and soule is neuer dedde Thus proue I that we wake when slepe beclipps the ghoste And wakyng witts and stirryng blood doeth comfort nature moste A dreame more life doeth showe then death or lompishe slepe And by the motion of suche dreams our soule and life we kepe So graunt I that our sleepes a wakyng Nature haue For slepe it self is noughe but death as bedde presents the graue Though beast is praisde for slepe yet man hath better moode To wake and seeke through breathyng brest to liue by angels foode Then let leude fancie slepe with beast and if you please It is the quicke and wakyng muse that moste my sence doeth ease Finis ¶ A fantasie on fifteene woordes endyng all in one letter IF freendship faint or Fortune faile and flood forsakes to flowe Yet call for hope to hoise vp saile a gale of winde maie blowe When sorrowe comes and sighes encrease with wicked worldly woe Beleue the beste of badde mischaunce and ease thy burthen soe The child that neuer felt the rodde maie out of order goe The horse that can no bridell bide no pace nor traine will showe Tis better freend reforme thy fauts then take rebuke of foe The wood y t breaks wheÌ„ it should bend will neuer make good bowe That hart is weake which for small greef coÌ„sums melts like snow The rose nor flowre is nere the worse that doeth nere nettell growe A man maie suffer mutche in harte though shooe doe nipp his toe A quiet man maie liue full long that dwells in house with shroe The Faucon flies a stately gate in spite of carraine Crowe Some maks a merry gladsome chere yet feles great care ye knowe Some haue a sadde and heauie minde and walks as light as Doe Thus sutche as beare a pacient brest doe conquere that thei craue And those that striu's against the stream shall seldome pleasure haue Finis ¶ Of the strong and the weake THe weakest goes to wall who wanteth freends must faste Thei saie the strongest will haue all would God that worlde were paste For féeble force I haue with worlde to tugge and toile And lackyng tooles to poule and shaue I yéeld me to the spoile Of those that spares no sleight nor witte to winne their will Who seems to make the crooked streight yet liu's by fleecyng still The weake hath feble knees to clime the clouds ye knowe The strong takes home from the Bees and seru's his fancie soe The strong and mightie flood swéeps all before hym cleane And tourns vp drosse bothe sande and mudde and kéepes no kinde of meane A sillie shallowe streame can doe but little boote It neither breaks doune massie banks nor tears vp trees by roote The weake is vanquisht still the strong will victor bee The strong with weake nor weake w t strong will neuer well agree When sound and sicke doe like and colde and heate are one Or mosse mucke for might maine maie matche w t marble stone Then strong and weake shall ioyne till then saie naie who shall The strong will triumphe on the weake weake