my conceipt friend thou didst neuer see A righter Madam then thou hast of mee For now as Elegiacke I bewaile These poore base times then suddainely I le raile And I am Satiricke not that I inforce My selfe to be so but euen as remorse Or hate in the proud fullnesse of their hight Master my fancy iust so doe I write But gentle friend as soone shall I behold That stone of which so many haue vs told Yet neuer any to this day could make The great Elixar or to vndertake The Rose-Crosse knowledge which is much like that A Tarrying-iron for fooles to labour at As euer after I may hope to see A plague vpon this beastly world for mee Wit so respected as it was of yore And if hereafter any it restore It must be those that yet for many a yeere Shall be vnborne that must inhabit here And such in vertue as shall be asham'd Almost to heare their ignorant Grandsires nam'd With whom so many noble spirits then liu'd That were by them of all reward depriu'd My noble friend I would I might haue quit This age of these and that I might haue writ Before aâ— other how much the braue pen Had here bin honoured of the English men Goodnesse and knowledge held by them in prise How hatefull to them ignorance and vice But it falls out the contrary is true And so my Ieffereyes for this time adue Vpon the death of Mistris Elianor Fallowfield ACcursed Death what need vvas there at all Of thee or who to councell did thee call The subiect vvhere upon these lines I spend For thee was most vnfit her timelesse end Too soone thou wrought'st too neere her thou didst stand Thou shouldst haue lent thy leane and mâ—ager hand To those who oft the helpe thereof beseech And can be cured by no other Leech In this wide world hovv many thousands be That hauing past fourescore do call for thee The wretched debtor in the Iayle that lyes Yet cannot this his Creditor suffice Doth woe thee oft with many a sigh and teare Yet thou art coy and him thou wilt not heare The Captiue slaue that tuggeth at the Oares And vnderneath the Bulls tough sinewes rores Begs at thy hand in lieu of all his paines That thou vvould'st but release him of his chaines Yet thou a niggard listenest not thereto W 〈…〉 short gaspe which thou might'st easily do But thou couldst come to her ere there was need And euen at once destroy both flovvre and seede But cruell death if thou so barbarous bee To those so goodly and so young as shee That in their teeming thou wilt shew thy spight Either from marriage thou wilt Maides affright Or in their Wedlocke Widdowes liues to chuse Their husbands bed and vtterly refuse Fearing conception so shalt thou thereby Extirpate mankind by thy cruelty If after direfull Tragedy thou thirst Extinguish Himens Torches at the first Build Funerall pyles and the sad pauement strew With mournful Cypresse and the pale-leau'd Yewe Away with Roses Mirtle and with Bayes Ensignes of mith and iollity as these Neuer at Nuptialls vsed be againe But from the Church the new Bride entertaine With Weeping Nenias euer and among As at departings be sad Requiems song Lucina by th' old Poets that wert sayd Women in Child-birth euermore to ayde Because thine Altars long haue layne neglected Nor as they should thy holy fiers reflected Vpon thy Temples therefore thou doest flye And wilt not helpe them in necessity Thinking vpon thee I doe often muse Whether for thy deare sake I should aâ—cuse Nature or Fortune Fortune then I blame And doe impute it as her greatest shame To hast thy timelesse end and soone agen I vexe at Nature nay I curse her then That at the time of need she was no stronger That wee by her might haue enioy'd thee longer But whilst of these I with my selfe debate I call to mind how flinty-hearted Fate Seaseth the olde the yong the faire the foule No thing of earth can Destiny controule But yet that Fate which hath of life bereft thee Still to eternall memory hath lefâ— thee Which thou enioy'st by the deserued breath That many a great one hath not after death FINIS * The law Salique was that women should noâ— iâ— herite whâ— law Edward the third â— his right to â— the Crowne by his motâ— cancelled wâ— his sword so much as at that tiâ— made way his clarme though in France thâ— law bee inviolable * Henry thâ— so named â— Town in Lâ— colne Shiâ— where he borne * Henry the fift borne Munmouâ— in Wâ—â—â—â— Dowglas in that battaile â—ew three in the Kings â—oat Aâ—moâ—â— Wickliffe a learned Diuine and the greatest Propestant of those times A Parliament at Leicester Henry Chichly succeeding Arundâ—ll late decâ—â—sed in that See * So they termed it as unworthy of a better title The Archbishop of Canterburies Oration to tâ—â— Kingâ—â—nd Parliament at Lecesterâ— in the 〈…〉 following Stanzaes The Crâ—â—â—â— of France descended vpon Edward the third from Isabell â—u Mother Daughtar and suâ—â—â—â—â—ing heire to King Philip of France named the faire * Iames Daulpâ—â—â—â— of Viennoies The Dukes of Lâ—â—raine Burbon The Earles of Aumerlâ— Savoye Mountbilliard Flaunders Nevers â—â—arcourt King Iohn of France and Philip his son taken by the Blacke Prince at the Battaile of Poyteers brought Prisoners to â—â— land Iohn of Cleumount Peter of Burbon Examples of such as haue aduanâ—d themselues to the Crowne of France against the strict letter of the lawe Salique in two following Stanzaes Ralph Neuill then warden of the Marches betwixt England and Scotland An â—â—â— adagâ— He that will France wiâ— must with Scotland first beginne The Duke of Excester the Kings owne â—â—â—â— The first breaâ—h with France The Countries demanded by the King of England The King and Daulphine of France dâ—â—â—deth the King of England Henry the fist answered for the Tennis Balles The language of Tennis * Blades accounted of the best temâ—er Armed at all poynts * Armings for the thigh and legge * Armings for the arme and shoulder Great Ordnance then â—uâ— newly in â—â—â— Halfe thâ—â—â—â—â— cutt of the Island from the Spanish to the German Ocean Edward the third * The Soa betwixt France and England â—â— called A Catalogue of the Sâ—ps in â—â— Stanzaes The names of the Kings 7. Ships of War An Indian Bird so great that she is able to carrie an Elephant The Bay of Portugal â— of the high working Sâ— that is knowâ—â— * A country â—â—ng vpon â—e â—ast Sea ordering vpon Poland â—amous for â—â—erring fishng â—ydes to the â—ing by the â—obility a A blazon of the Ensignes of the seueral Shireâ— in 14. Stanzas following b Expressing their freedome as still retaining their ancient liberties by surprizing the Conqueror like a mouing wood c An expression of King Harolds deatâ— slaine with an Arrow iâ— the head at â— the Baâ—taâ—â—â— of Hastings fighting against the Conquerour d The first famous Earle of
the grand slaughter ne'r began till then Couering the earth with multitudes of men Vpon the French what Englishman not falls By the strong Bow-men beaten from their steeâ— With Battle-axes Halbers Bils and Maules Where in the slaughter euery one exceeds Where euery man his fellow forward calls And showes him where some great born French 〈…〉 bleedâ— Whilst Scalps about like broken pot-sherds fly And kill kill kill the Conquering English cry Now wexed horror to the very height And scarse a man but wet-shod went in gore As two together are in deadly fight And to death wounded as one tumbleth ore This Frenchman falling with his very weight Doth kill another strucken downe before As he againe so falling likewise feeles His last breath hastned by anothers heeles And whilst the English eagerly pursue The fearefull French before them still that fly The points of Bils and Halberts they imbrue In their sicke bowels beaten downe that lye 〈…〉 o man respects how or what blood he drew 〈…〉 or can heare those that for their mercy cry 〈…〉 ares are damn'd vp with howles hellish sounds One fearefull noyse a fearefuller confounds When the couragious Constable of France 〈…〉 h'vnluckly Vanguard valiantly that led 〈…〉 we the day turn'd by this disastrous chance 〈…〉 nd how the French before the English fled 〈…〉 stay quoth he your Ensignes yet aduance 〈…〉 nce more vpon the enemy make head Neuer let France say we were vanquisht so With our backs basely turn'd vpon our Foe Whom the Chattillyon hapned to accost 〈…〉 d seeing thus the Constable dismayd 〈…〉 i ft Noble Lord quoth he the day is lost 〈…〉 the whole world vpon the match were layd 〈…〉 cannot thinke but that Blacke Edwards Ghost 〈…〉 ists the English and our Horse hath frayde If not some Deuils they haue with them then That fight against vs in the shapes of men Not I my Lord the Constable replies 〈…〉 my best soule the field I will not quit 〈…〉 hilst two braue Battailes are to bring supplies 〈…〉 ither of which one stroke haue strucken yet 〈…〉 y quoth Dampier I doe not this aduise 〈…〉 re then your selfe that I doe feare a whit Spurre vp my Lord then side to side with mee And that I feare not you shall quickly see They strucke their Rowels to the bleeding sidâ— Of their fierce Steeds into the ayre that sprong And as their fury at that instant guides They thrust themselues into thâ— murth'ring throâ— Where such bad fortune these braue Lords betideâ— The Admirall from off his Horse was stong For the sterne English downe before them beere All that withstand the Peasant and the Peere Which when the Noble Constable with griefe Doth this great Lord vpon the ground behold In his account so absolute a Chiefe Whose death through France he knew would bee condoâ— Like a braue Knight to yeeld his friend reliefe Doing as much as possibly hee could Both Horse and man is borne into the mayne And from his friend not halfe a furlong flaine Now Wilâ—ough by vpon his well-Arm'd Horse Into the midst of this Battalion brought And valiant Fanhope no whitlesse in force Himselfe hath thither through the squadrons raâ—â— Whereas the English without all remorce Looking like men that deepely are distraught Smoking with sweat besmear'd with dust b 〈…〉 Cut into Cantles all that them withstood Yet whilst thus hotely they hold vp the Chaâ—â— Vpon the French and had so high a hand The Duke of Burbon to make good his place Inforc'd his troupes with much adoe to stand To whom the Earle of Suffolke makes apace Bringing a fresh and yet vnfought-with band Of valiant Bill-men Oxford with successe Vp with his Troupes doth with the other presse When in comes Orleance quite thrust off before By those rude crowdes that from the English ran Encouraging stout Burbons Troupes the more â—'affront the Foe that instantly began â—aine would the Duke if possible restore 〈…〉 Doing as much as could bee done by man Their Honour lost by this their last defeate And caused onely by their base Retreat Their men at Armes their Lances closely locke One in another and come vp so round That by the strength and horrour of the shocke They forc't the English to forsake their ground â—hrinking no more then they had bene a Rocke Though by the shafts receiuing many a wound As they would show that they were none of those That turn'd their backs so basely to their Foes Panting for breath his Murrian in his hand â—oodhouse comes in as backe the English beare My Lords quoth he what now inforc't to stand When smiling Fortune offereth vs so faire â—he Frenchly yonder like to wreakes of sand â—nd you by this our glory but impaire Or now or neuer your first fight maintaine Chattillion and the Constable are flaine Hand ouer head pell mell vpon them ronne If you will prooue the Masters of the day Ferrers and Greystocke haue so brauely done That I enuy their glory and dare say From all the English they the Gole haue wonne Either let 's share or they 'll beare all away This spoke his Axe about his head he flings And hasts away as though his heeles had winâ— The Incitation of this youthfull Knight Besides amends for their retrayte to make Doth re-enforce their courage with their might A second charge with speed to vndertake Neuer before were they so mad to fight When valiant Fanhope thus the Lords be spake Suffolke and Oxford as braue Earles you be Once more beare vp with Willoughby and me Why now me think 's I heare braue Fanhope spâ— Quoth noble Oxford thou hast thy desire These words of thine shall yan battalion breake And for my selfe I neuer will retire Vntill our Teene vpon the French we wreake Or in this our last enterprise expire This spoke their Gauntlets each doth other gâ— And to the charge as fast as they can driue That slaughter seem'd to haue but stayd for 〈…〉 deâ— To make the horrour to insue the more With hands be smear'd with blood when meager Looketh more grisly then he did before â—o that each body seem'd but as a sheath â—o put their swords in to the Hilts in gore As though that instant were the end of all To fell the French or by the French to fall Looke how you see a field of standing Corne When some strong wind in Summer haps to blow â—t the full height and ready to be shorne Rising in waues how it doth come and goe Forward and backward so the crowds are borne Or as the Edie turneth in the flow And aboue all the Bils and Axes play As doe the Attom's in the Sunny ray Now with mayne blowes their Armours ore vnbras'd And as the French before the English fled With their brown Bils their recreaÌ„t backs they bast And from their shoulders their faint armes do shred One with a gleaue neere cut off by the waste Another runnes to ground with halfe
Ferry-bridge the passage to preuent From comming ouer Eyre to keepe the other Gainst whom the aduerse the Lord Clifford sent Who taking night his enterprise to smother The dawne yet dusky passing through a Ford Puts them and all their souldiers to the sword At the shrill noyse when Warwicke comming in And finds his Brother and Fitzwater dead Euen as a man distracted that had bin Out of his face the liuely colour fled â—oth cruell Clifford thus quoth he begin For eu'ry drop of blood that he hath shed This day I 'le make an enemy to bleed Or neuer more in Battaile let me speed And to the King returning in this mood 〈…〉 Liege quoth he all mercy now defie â—elay no longer to reuenge their blood Whose mangled bodies breathlesse yonder lye â—nd let the man that meanes King Edwards good 〈…〉 and fast to Warwicke who no more shall flie Resolu'd to winne or bid the world a due Which spoke the Earle his sprightly courser sâ—â—e This resolution so extremely wrought Vpon King Edward that he gaue command That on his side who willingly not fought Should haue his leaue to quit him out of hand That eu'â—y one should kill the man he cought To keepe no Quarter and who meant to stand In his iust cause rewarded he would see This day hee 'll rise or this day ruin'd be When neere to Towton on the spacious playne These puissant Armies on Palme-Sunday me Wher down right slaughter angry heaueÌ„ doth rainâ— With clouds of rage the Element is set The windâ—s breath fury and the earth againe With the hot gore of her owne Natiues wet Sends vp a smoke which makes the mall so mad Of neither part that mercy could be had One horrid sight another doth appall One fearefull cry another doth confound Murthers so thicke vpon each other fall That in one shreeke anothers shreeke is drownd Whilst blood for blood â—ncessantly doth call From the wide mouth of many a gaping wound Slaughter so soone grows big that coÌ„mn to birtâ— The monstrous burthen ouer-loads the earth This bloody Tempest ten long houres doth last Whilst neither side could to it selfe assure The victory but as their lot was cast With wounds and death they stoutly it indure Vntill the valiant Yorkists at the last Although in number neere ten thousand fewer In their long fight their forces manage so That they before them lay their conquer'd foe Couragious Clifford first here fell to ground Into the throat with a blunt Arrow strucke Here Westmerland receiu'd his deadly wound Here dy'd the stout Northumberland that stuck Still to his Soneraigne Wells and Dacres found That they had lighted on King Henrys luck Trowluph Horne two braue commanders dead Whilst Summerset and Excester were fled Thirty two thousand in this battaile flaine Many in strayts lye heap'd vp like a wall 〈…〉 The restlye scatter'd round about the playne And Cocke a Riuer though but very small Fill'd with those flying doth so deepely staine The Riuer Wharfe int'which this Cocke doth fall As that the fountaine which this flood doth feed Besides their blood had seem'd for them to bleed King Henrys hopes thus vtterly forlorne By the late losse of this vnlucky day He feeles the Crown euen from his temples torn On his sword point which Edward beares away And since his fall the angry Fates had sworne He findes no comfort longer here to stay But leauing Yorke he post to Barwicke goes With 's Queene Son true partners in his woes The King for Scotland and for France the Queene Diuided hence since them thus Fortune thwarts Before this time there seldome had beene seene Two to be seuer'd with so heauy hearts The Prince their son then standing them betweene Their song is sorrow and they beare their parts He to the King of Scots to get supplies She to the French King and her Father flies Which well might shew a Princes slippery state For when she hither at the first came in England and France did her congratulate Then in two battailes she had Conqueror bin Seeming to tread vpon the Yorkists hate As from that day she had beene borne to winne Now to sayle backe with miseries farre more Then were her Tryumphs landing here before This cruell blow to the Lancastrians lent At fatall Towton that Palme-Sunday fight Where so much blood they prodigally spent To France and Scotland as inforc'd their flight Lifts vp the Yorkists to their large extent And Edward now to see his Crowne set right Proâ—d in his spoyles to London doth repaire And re-annoynted mounts th' Imperiall Chaire Where he a speedy Parliament doth passe T' annull those Lawes which had beene made before Gainst his succession and dissolue the Masse Of Treasons heapt on his them to restore Whereby King Henry so much lesned was As after that he should subsist no more Little then thinking Lancaster againe Now but an exile ouer him should raigne Where he attaints as Traitors to his Crowne Iohn Earle of Oxford and hâ—s valiant sonne Aâ—brey De Vere with whom likewise went downe Mountgomery Terrill Tudenham who were done To death so Heau'n on Henry seemes to frowne And Summerset King Edwards wrath to shunne Himselfe submitting is receiu'd to grace Such is Queene Margarites miserable case Henry in Scotland the sad Queene the while Is left to France to Lewis there to sue To lend her succour scorning her exile In spight of Fate she will the warre renew She will tempt Fortune till againe she smile In such a pitch her mighty spirit still flew That should the world oppose her yet that strengh She hopes shall worke vp her desires at length And with fiue thousand valiant Volunteers Of natiue French put vnder her command With Armes well sitted she towards Scotland steeres With which before she possibly could land The wrath of Heauen vpon this Queene appeares And with fierce Tempests striue her to withstand The winds make warre against her with her Foe Which Ioin'd together worke her ouerthrowe Her Forces thus infortunatly lost Which she in Scotland hop'd to haue encreast And in this tempest she herselfe so tost As neuer Lady yet she here not coast But since she found her enterprise thus crost She to the Scottish her faire course adrest Nor would desist till she had rais'd agen Ten thousand valiant well-appointed men And in vpon Northumberland doth breake Rowzing the Siuggish villages from fleepe Bringing in Henry though a helpe but weake But leaues her Son in Barwicke safe to keepe Her ratling Drums so rough a language speakes The ruffling Scots and all the Country sweepe Which rumour run so fast with through the ayre That Edward thought it shooke his very Chaire And Somerset receiu'd to grace before With Sir Raulph Percy from that fatall day At Towton found each minute more and more How sad â— fate on the Lancastrians lay Yâ—â— hoping now King Henry to restore Who they suppos'd
fires To ouerspred my breast As lent life to my chast desires And gaue me endlesse rest By Cynthia thus doe I subsist On earth Heauens only pride Let her be mine and let who list Take all the world beside FINIS THE SHEPHEARDS SIRENA DOrilus in sorrowes deepe Autumne waxing old and chill As he sate his Flocks to keepe Vnderneath an easie hill Chanc'd to cast his eye aside On those fields where he had seene Bright Sirena Natures pride Sporting on the pleasant greene To whose walkes the Shepheards oft Came her god-like foote to finde And in places that were soft Kist the print there left behind Where the path which he had troad Hath thereby more glory gayn'd Then in Heau'n that milky rode Which with Nectar Hebe stain'd But bleake Winters boystrous blasts Now their fading pleasures chid And so fill'd them with his wasts That from sight her steps were hid Silly Shepheard sad the while For his sweet Syrena gone All his pleasures in exile Layd on the cold earth alone Whilst his gamesome cur-tayld Curre With his mirthlesse Master playes Striuing him with sport to stirre As in his more youthfull dayes Dorilus his Dogge doth chide Layes his well-tun'd Bagpipe by And his Sheepe-hooke casts aside There quoth he together lye When a Letter foorth he tooke Which to him Syrena writ With a deadly downe-cast looke And thus fell to reading it Dorilus my deare quoth shee Kind companion of my woe Though we thus diuided be Death cannot diuorce vs so Thou whose bosome hath beene still Th' only closet of my care And in all my good and ill Euer had thy equall share Might I winne thee from thy Fold Thou shouldst come to visite mee But the Winter is so cold That I feare to hazzard thee The wild waters are waxt hie So they are both deafe and dumbe Lou'd they thee so well as I They would ebbe when thou shouldst come Then my coate with light should shine â—urer then the Vestâ—ll fire Nothing here but should be thine That thy heart can well desire Where at large wee will relate From what cause our friendship grew And in that the varying Fate Since we first each other knewe Of my heauy pâ—ssed plight As of many a future feare Which except the silent night None but onely thou shalt heare My sad heart it shall releeue When my thoughts I shall disclose For thou canst not chuse but greeue When I shall recount my Woes There is nothing to that friend To whose close vncranied brest Wee our secret thoughts may send And there safely let it rest And thy faithfull counsell may My distressed case assist Sad afâ—liction else may sway Me a woman as it list Hither I would haue thee haste Yet would gladly haue thee stay When those dangers I forecast That may meete thee by the way Doe as thou shalt thinke it best Let thy knowledge be thy guide Liue thou in my constant bâ—eâ— Whatsoeuer shall betide He her letter hauing red Puts it in his Scrip againe Looking like a man halfe dead By her kindnesse strangely slaine And as one who inly knew Her distressed present state And to her had still beene true Thus doth with himselfe delate I will not thy face admire Admirable though it be Nor thine eyes whose subtile fire So much wonder winne in me But my maruell shall be now And of long it hath bin so Of all woman kind that thou Wert ordain'd to tast of vvoe To a beauty so diuine Paradise in little done O that fortune should assigne Ought but what thou wel mightst shun But my counsailes such must bee Though as yet I them conceale By their deadly wound in me They thy hurt must only heale Could I giue what thou doo'st craue To that passe thy state is growne I thereby thy life may saue But am sure to loose mine owne To that ioy thou do'st conceiue Through my heâ—â—â— the way doth lye Which in two for thee must cleaue Lest that thou shouldst goe awry Thus my death must be a toy Which my pensiue brest must couer Thy beloued to enioy Must be taught thee by thy Louer Hard the choise I haue to chuse To my selfe if friend I be I must my Syrena loose If not so shee looseth mee Thus whilst he doth cast about What therein were best to doe Nor could yet resolue the doubt Whether he should stay or goe In those Fields not farre away There was many a frolike Swaine In fresh Russets day by day That kept Reuells on the plaine Nimble Tom surnam'd the Tup For his Pipe without a peere And could tickle Trenchmore vp As t' would ioy your heart to heare Ralph as much renownd for skill That the Taber touch'd so well For his Gittern little Gill That all other did excell Rocke and Rollo euery way Who still led the Rusticke Ging And could troule a Roundelay That would make the Fields to ring Collin on his Shalme so cleere Many a high pitâ—ht note that had â—nd could make the Ecchos neere â—hout as they were waxen mad Many a lustie Swaine beside â—hat for nought but pleasure car'd â—auing Dorilus espy'd â—nd with him knew how it far'd â—hought from him they would remoue â—his strong melancholy fitt Or so should it not behoue Quite to put him out of 's wit Hauing learnt a Song which hâ—e â—ometime to Sirena sent â—ull of Iollity and glee When the Nimph liu'd neere to Trent â—hey behind him softly got â—ying on the earth along â—nd when he suspected not â—hus the Iouiall Shepheards song NEare to the Siluer Trent Syrena dwelleth â—hee to whom Nature lent All that excelleth â—y which the Muses late And the neate Graces â—aue for their greater state Taken their places â—wisting an Anadem Wherewith to Crowne her â—s it belong'd to them Most to renowne her Cho On thy Bancke In a Rancke Let thy Swannes sing her And with their Musicke Along let them bring her Tagus and Pactâ—lus are to thee Debter Nor for their gould to vs are they the better Hencefoorth of all the rest be thou the Riuer Which as the daintiest puts them downe euer For as my precious one o'r thee doth trauell She to Pearle Paragon turneth thy grauell Cho On thy Bancke In a Rancke Let thy Swanns sing her And with their Musicke along let them bring her Our mournefull Philomell that rarest Tuner Hencefoorth in Aperiâ—â— shall wake the sooner And to her shall complaine from the thicke couer Redoubling euery straine ouer and ouer For when my Loue too long her chamber keepeth As though it suffered wrong the morning weepeth â—â—o On thy Banke In a Rancke Let thy Swannes sing her And with their Musicke along let them bring her Oft haue I seene the Sunne to doe her honour Fix himselfe at his noone to looke vpon her And hath guilt euery Groue euery Hill neare her With his flames from aboue striuing to cheere her And when she from his sight hath her selfe turned Hee as it had beene night In
of their seed For he begot it and t' was borne of her And out of doubt they will their owne prefer Therefore good women better be aduis'd For precious things should not be lightly priz'd This Moon-Calfe borne vnder a lucky Fate May powerfull proue in many a wealthy State And taught the tongues about some few yeers hence As now vv' are all tongue and but little sence It may fall out for any thing you know This Moon-Calfe may on great imployments goe When learned men for noble action fit Idly at home vnthought of once may sit A Bawd or a Proiector he may proue And by his purse so purchasing him loue May be exalted to some thriuing Roome Where seldome good men suffred are to come What will you say hereafter when you see The times so gracelesse and so mad to be That men their perfect humane shape shall flie To imitate this Beasts deformitie Nay when you see this Monster which you novv Will hardly breath vpon the earth alow In his caroch with foure vvhite Freezelands drawn And he as pyde and garish as the Pavvne With a set face in which as in a booke He thinks the World for grounds of state should looke WheÌ„ to soÌ„e greater one whose might doth awe him He 's known a verier iade then those that draw him Nay at the last the very killing sight To see this Calfe as vertue to despight Aboue iust honest men his head to reare Nor to his greatnesse may they once come neere Each ignorant Sott to Honour seekes to rise But as for vertue who did first deuise That title a reward for hee 's to be As most contemned and despised shee Goes vnregarded that they who should owne her Dare not take notice euer to haue knowne her And but that vertue when she seemeth throwne Lower then Hell hath power to raise her owne Aboue the World and this her monstrous birth She long e'r this had perish'd from the earth Her Fautors banish'd by her foes so hie Which looke so bigge as they would scale the skie But seeing no helpe why should I thus complaine Then to my Moone-Calfe I returne againe By his deare Dam the World so choicely bred To whom there is such greatnesse promised For it might well a perfect man amaze To see what meanes the Syer and Dam will raise T' exalt their Moon-Calfe and him so to cherish That he shall thriue when vertuous men shal perish The Drunkard Glutton or who doth apply Himselfe to beastly sensuallity Shall get him many friends for that there be Many in euery place iust such as hee The euill loue them that delight in ill Like haue clean'd to their like and euer will But the true vertuous man God knowes hath fewe They that his straite and harder steps pursue Are a small number scarcely knowne of any God hath few friends the Deuill hath so many But to returne that yee may plainly see That such a one he likely is to be And that my words for trueth that ye may trie Of the Worlds Babe thus doe I prophecy Marke but the more man of these monstrous Twins From his first youth how tow'rdly he begins WheÌ„ he should learn being learnd to leaue the schole This arrant Moon-Calfe this most beastly foole â—ust to our English Prouerbe shall be seene Scarcely so wise at fifty as fifteene And when himselfe hee of his home can free He to the City comes where then if he And the familiar butterflye his Page Can passe the Streete the Ord'nary and Stage It is enough and he himselfe thinks then To be the only absolut'st of men Then in his Cups you shall not see him shrinke To the grand diuell a carowse to drinke Next to his whore he doth himselfe apply And to maintaine his gotish luxurie â—ates Capons Cookt at fifteene Crownes a peece With their fat bellies stuff'd with Amber greece And being to trauell he sticks not to lay His Post Caroches still vpon his way â—nd in some sixe dayes iourney doth consume Ten pounds in Suckets and the Indian Fume For his Attire then Forraigne parts are sought He holds all vile in England that is wrought And into Flanders senâ—eth for the nonce Twelue dozen of Shirts prouiding him at once Layd in the seames vvith costly Lace that be Of the Smocke fashion whole below the knee Then bathes in milke in which when he hath bin He lookes like one for the prepostrous sinne Put by the wicked and rebellious Iewes To be a Pathique in a Malekind Stevves With the ball of 's foot the ground he may not feelâ— But he must tread vpon his toe and heele Dublet and Cloake vvith Plush and Veluet linde Onely his head piece that is fil'd with Winde Rags running Horses Dogs Drabs Drink dice The onely things that he doth hold in price Yet more then these naught doth him so delight As doth his smooth-chind plump-thigh'd Catamiâ—â— Sodome for her great sinne that burning sanke Which at one draught the pit infernall dranke Which that iust God on earth could not abide Hath shee so much the Deuils terrifide As from their seate them well neere to exile Hath Hell new spew'd her vp after this while Is she new risen and her sinne agen Imbrac'd by beastly and outragious men Nay more he iests at Incest as therein There were no fault counts sacriledge no sin His blasphemies he vseth for his grace Wherewith he trueth doth often times outface He termeth vertue madnesse or meere folly He hates all high things and prophanes all holly Where is thy thunder god art thou asleepe Or to what suff'ring hand giu'st thou to keepe Thy wrath and vengeance where is now the strength Of thy Almighty arme failes it at length Turne all the Starres to Comets to out stare The Sunne at noone-tide that he shall not dare To looke but like a Gâ—oworme for that hee Can without melting these damnations see But this I le leaue lest I my pen defile Yet to my Moon-Calfe keepe I close the while Who by some knaue perswaded he hath wit When like a braue Foole he to vtter it Dare with a desperate boldnesse roughly passe His censure on those bookes which the poore Asse Can neuer reach to things from darkenesse sought That to the light with blood sweat were brought And takes vpon him those things to controule Which should the brainelesse Ideot sell his soule All his dull race and he can neuer buy With their base pelfe his glorious industry Knowledge with him is idle if it straine Aboue the compasse of his yestie braine Nor knowes mens worths but by a second hand For he himselfe doth nothing vnderstand He would haue something but what t is hee showes not What he would speake nay what to think he knowes not He nothingmore theÌ„ truth knowledg loaths And nothing he admires of mans but cloathes Now for that I thy dotage dare mislike And seeme so deepe into thy soule to strike Because I am so
any meanes could take This rauenous War Woolfe and with them they bring Mastiffes and Mungrells all that in a string Could be got out or could but lug a Hog Ball Eateall Cuttaile Blackfoot Bitch and Dogg Bills Batts and Clubs the Angry men doe beare The Women eager as their husbands were With Spits and Fireforks sware if they could catch him It should go hard but they would soon dispatch him This subtill Woolfe by passengers that heard What forces thus against him were prepar'd And by the noyse that they were neere at hand Thinking this Asse did nothing vnderstand Goes downe into a spring that was hard by Which the Asse noted and immediatly He came out perfect man his Wolues shape left In which so long he had committed theft The silly Asse so wistly then did view him And in his fancy so exactly drew him That he was sure to owne this theefe agen If he should see him mongst a thousand men This woolfe turn'd man him instantly doth shrowd In a neere thicket till the boystrous crowd Had somewhat past him then he in doth fall Vpon the Reare not any of them all Makes greater stirre nor seemes to them to be More diligent to finde the Woolfe then he They beate each brake and tuft o'r all the ground But yet the War-Woolfe was not to be found But a poore Asse entangled in the Bryers In such strange sort as euery one desires To see the manner and each one doth gather How he was fastned so how he came thither The silly Asse yet being still in hold Makes all the meanes that possibly he could To be let loose he hummes he kneeles and cryes Shaketh his head and turneth vp his eyes To moue their pitty that some sayd t' was sure This Asse had sence of what he did endure And at the last amongst themselues decreed To let him loose the Asse no sooner freed But out he goes the company among And where he saw the people thickst to throng There he thrusts in and looketh round about Here he runnes in and there he rusheth out That he was likely to haue throwne to ground Those in his way which when the people found Though the poore Asse they seemed to disâ—laine Follow'd him yet to find what he should meane Vntill by chance that he this Villaine met When he vpon him furiously doth set Fastning his teeth vpon him with such strength That he could not be loosed till at length Railing them in the people make a Ring Strooke with the wonder of so strange a thing Whilst they are cadg'd contending whither can Conquer the Asse some cry some cry the man Yet the asse drag'd him stil forward drue Towards the strange spring which yet they neuer knew Yet to what part the strugling seem'd to sway The people made a lane and gaue them way At length the Asse had tug'd him neere thereto The people wondring what he meant to doe He seem'd to show them with his foot the Well Then with an Asse-like noyse he seem'd to tell The Story now by pointing to the men Then to the Theefe then to the spring agen At length waxt angry growing into passion Because they could not find his demonstration T' expresse it more he lâ—apes into thespring When on the suddaine O most monstrous thing To change his shape he presently began And at an instant became perfect man Recouering speech and comming foorth accus'd The bloody murtherer who had so abus'd The honest people and such harme had done Before them all and presently begun To shew them in what danger he had bin And of this Woolfe the cruelty and sin How he came chang'd agen as he had prou'd Whereat the people being strangely moou'd Some on the head some on the backe doe clap him And in their armes with shouts and kisses hap him Then all at once vpon the War-woolfe flue And vp and downe him on the earth they drew Then from his bones the flesh in Collops cut And on their weapons points in Triumph put Returning backe with a victorious song Bearing the man aloft with them along Quoth Gammer Gurton on my honest word You haue told a Tale doth much conceit afford Good neighbour Howlet and as ye haue done Each one for other since our Tales begunne And since our stand of Ale so well endures As you haue morral'd Bumbyes I will yours The fable of the War-wolfe I apply To a man giuen to blood and cruelty And vpon spoyle doth onely set his rest Which by a Woolfes shade liuely est is exprest The spring by which he gets his former shape Is the euasion aftâ—r euery rape He hath to start by and the silly Asse Which vnregardâ—d euery where doth passe Is some iust soule who though the world disdaine Yet hee by God is strangely made the meane To bring his damned practises to light Quoth mother Howlet you haue hit the white I thought as much quoth Gammer Gurton then My turne comes next haue with you once agen A mighty Waste there in a country was Yet not so great as it was poore of grasse T' was sayd of olde a Saint once curst the soyle So barren and so hungry that no toyle Could euer make it any thing to beare Nor would ought prosper that was planted there Vpon the earth the spring was seldome seene T' was winter there when each placeelse was green When Summer did her most abundance yeeld That still lay browne as any fallow field Vpon the same some few trees scattering stood But it was Autumne ere they vs'd to bud And they were crookt and knotty and the leaues The niggard sap so vtterly deceiues That sprouting foorth they drouping hung the head And were neere withered â—re yet fully spread No mirthfull Birds the boughs did euer grace Nor could be won to stay vpon that place Onely the night Crow sometimes you might see Croking to sit vpon some Rampick-tree Which was but very seldome too and then â—t boded great mortality to men â—s were the trees which on that common grew â—o were the cattell staruelings and a few â—sses and Mules and they were vs'd to gnaw â—he very earth to fill the hungry maw When they far'd best they fed on Ferne and brak Their leane shrunke bellies cleau'd vp to their back Of all the rest in that great Waste that went Of those quicke caryons the most eminent Was a poore Mule vpon that common bred â—nd from his foaling further neuer fed â—he Summer well-neere euery yeare was past â—re he his ragged Winter coat could cast â—nd then the Iade would get him to a tree â—hat had a rough bark purposely where he â—ubbing his Buttocks and his either side Would get the old hayre from his starued hyde â—â—d though he were as naked as my nayle â—et he would whinny then and wagge the tayle â— this short pasture one day as he stood â—eady to faint amongst the rest for food â—et the poore Beast according to