pure Uirgins bed Behold I am conceau'd with childe To which vile folly you me led for now this déed that I haue wrought Throughout this country well is knowne And to my woâ—ull parents brought Whom now for me do make great mone How shall I looke them in the sace When they my shamelesse selfe shall sée Oh cuâ—sed Eue I séele thy case When thou hadst tasted on the trée Thou hidst thy selfe and so must I But God thy trespasse quickly found The darke may hide me from mans eye But leaue my shame still to abound Wide open are mine eyes to looke Upon my séed and heauy sinne And quite vnclasped is the booke Where my accounts are written in This sinne of mine deserueth death Be Iudge Lord Wigmoore I am shée For I haue tread a strumpets path And for the same I néeds must dye Bespotted with reproachfull shame To ages following shall I bee And in records be writ my blame Lord Wigmoore this is long of thée Lord Wigmoore prostrate at thy féete I craue my iust deserued doome That death may cut off from the roote This body blossom branch and bloome Let modesty accuse this crime Let loue and law and nature speake Was euer any wretch yet seene That in one instant all did breake Then Wigmoore Iustice on me shew That thus consented to this act Giue me my death for death is due To such as sinnes in such a fact Oh that the wombe had beene my graue Or I had perisht in my birth Or that same day may darknesse haue Wherein â— first drew vitall breath Let God regard it not at all Let not the sunne vpon it shine Let misty darknesse on it fall For to make knowne this sinne of mine The night wherein I was conceau'd Let be accurst with mournefull cryes Let twinckling starres from skyes bereau'd And clowds of darkenesse thereon rise Because they shot not vp the powers That gaue the passage to my life Come sorrow finish vp mine howers And let my time here end in griefe And hauing made this wofull moane A knife she snatched from her side Where Lucresse part was rightly showne For with the same fayre Isabell dyed Hereat Lord Wigmoore greeued sore In heart repenting his amisse And after would attempt no more To crop the flowers of Maidens blisse But liued long in wofull wise Till death did finish vp his dayes And now in Isabels graue he lyes Till iudgment comes-them both to raise A Song of Sir Richard Whittington who by strange fortunes came to bee thrice Lord Maior of London with his bountifull guifts and liberallity giuen to this honorable Citty To the tune of dainty come thou to me HEre must I tell the praise of worthy Whittington Knowne to be in his dayes thrice Maior of London But of poore parentage borne was he as we heare And in his tender age bred vp in Lancashire Poorely to London than came vp this simple lad Where with a Marchant man soone he a dwelling had And in a Kitchin plast a scullion for to be Wheras long time he past in labour drudgingly His daily seruice was turning spitts at the fire And to scoure pots of brasse for a poore Scullions hire Meat and drinke all his pay of coyne he had no store Therefore to run away in secret thought he bore So from this marchant man Whittington secretly Towards his Contry ran to purchase liberty But as he went along in a faire summer morne London bells swéetly rung Whittington back returne Euermore sounding so turne againe Whittington For thou in time shalt grow Lord Maior of London Wherevpon back againe VVhittington came with spéed A prentise to remaine as the Lord had decréed Still blessed be the bells this was his daily song They my good fortune tells most swéetly haue they rung If God so fauour me I will not prooue vnkind London my loue shall sée and my great bounties find But sée his happy chance this Scullion had a Cat Which did his state aduance and by it wealth he gat His maister ventred sorth to a land far vnknowne With Marchandize of worth as is in stories showne VVhittington had no more but his poore Cat as than Which to the ship he bore like a braue Marchant â—â—n Uentring the same quoth he I may get store of gold And Maior of London be as the bells haue me told Whittingtons Marchandire carried was to a land Troubled with Rats and Mice as they did vnderstand The King of that Contry there as he at dinner sat Daily remain'd in feare of many a Mouse and Rat. Meat that on trenchers lay no way they could keepe safe But by Rats borne away fearing no wand nor staffe Wherevpon soone they brought Whittingtons nimble Cat Which by the King was bought heapes of gold giuen for that Home againe came these men with their ship loaden so Whittingtons wealth began by this cat thus to grow Seullions life he forsooke to be a Marchant good And soone began to looke how well his credit stood After this he was chose Shriefe of this citty héere And then full quickly rose higher as did appeare For to this Citties praise Sir Richard Whittington Came to be in his dayes thrise Maior of London More his fame to aduance thousands he lent his King To maintaine warres in France Glory from thence to bring And after at a feast that he the King did make Burnd the bands all in ieast and would no money take Ten thousand pound he gaue to his Prince willingly And would not one penny haue thus in kind curtesie God did thus make him great So would he daily sée poore people sed with meat Prisoners poore cherisht were widdowes swéet comfort found Good déedes both far and néere of hun do still resound Whittington Colledge is one of his charities Records reporteth this to lasting memories New gate he builded faire for prisoners to liue in Christ Church he did repaire Christian loue for to win Many more such like déedes was done by VVittington Which Ioy and Comfort bréedes to such as lookes thereon Lancashire thou hast bred this flower of Charity Theâ—â—ah he be gâ—n and dead yet liues he lastingly Those bells that cald him so turne againe Whittington Call you bach many mee to liue so in London The life and death of the great Duke of Buckingham who came to an vntimely end for consenting to the deposing of the two gallant young princes King Edward the fourths Children To the tune of Shores wife A Tale of griefe I must vnfold a tale that neuer yet was told A tale that might to pitty mooue the spirits below and Saints aboue When warres did plague this maiden land great Buckingham in grace did stand With Kings and Quéenes he ruled so when he said I none durst say no. Great Glosters Duke that washe the thrâ—ane with blood of Kings to makâ— his owne By Henry Staffords help obtaind what reason wild to be refraind If any noble of this land against great
withall Nor yet his pencell neuer drew so faire a péece and neuer shall Wherefore if he had séene these dayes He might haue wone a greater praise Oh happy man might he haue said if he had liued to this time For to haue séene so faire a Maide in all proportions made so fine Her sullgent face so faire so cleare That Europe cannot shew her peere Plgmalion with his grauers then could neuer worke so faire a péece Nor yet Apelles in his time did neuer sée the like in Gréece For if he had he would haue said That Venus was not like this maid She is a graft of noble groweth and worthy is she of her fame For why her vertues plainely sheweth that well she hath deserud the same Wherefore my painfull pen alwaies Shal neuer cease to write her praise O that my pen could print her praise according to her iust desert That I might say and sée those dayes that I desired with my heart For still I sought and euer shall My MistreÌ„s praise might passe them all Now proofe and praise in one is knit and hath blowne to praise this maid And Iustice doth in Iudgment sit for to performe that I haue saidâ— Thus to conclud an â—nd to make vnto the gods I her betake Another To a new tune THe Bée doth loue the swéetest flower so doth the blossome the Aprill shower And I doe loue that Lady truely why should not I loue her that loues me The bird doth loue the morning bright to sée the day is her delight And I do loue to sée her face in whome that I doe loue is my solace The fish doth loue the flouds by kind for want of it they are â—u pâ—nd And I doe loue her presents also in whome that I loue and loue no mo The Lybard doth loue to lie and pray vpon the faces that goeth him by And I do leue to looke and gase vpon my true loues most pleasant face The Déere doth loue in woods to dwell as I to you the truth shall tell And I doe loue as doth the deere oh whereas I loue would Christ I were Troylus that Lord withall his might Crossed of Troy that was so bright And I do loue as farre as he and euer shall vntill I dye FINIS In praise and dispraise of women To a pleasant new tune VVOmen to praise who taketh in hand a number shall displease But who so doth them most dispraise doth most liue at their case Whereat I muse and maruaile much and shall do till I die And if you thinke I say not true aske them if that I lye They are mans aid and only stay and comfort at his néed They cherisht him in all affaires how ouer that he spéed And that that she for him may doe she doth it willingly And if c. And when their husbands be farre from hand then wil they spin and carde They wil not gossip and go gay but then they fare full hard They rise vp early and lye downe late they labour earnestly To saue a penny or a groat aske them c. And if her husband chance to chide she giues him not a word Or if he fight she answers him no more then doth a boâ—rd But out she goeth about her worke and takes all patiently Creept she croune him with a stoole Aske them c. Or with her ten commandements she takes him on the face That from his cheekes downe to his chin a man may see each race The go dman then must weare a clout the goodwife she will dye Her husband hurt so heauily she takes or else I ly Then to his bed she wil not come nor with him will be gréed Unlesse she haue a Petticoate or elce some other wéed And when she with her gossips met she telles them by and by how she her husband handled hath aske c. Well done good gossip saith the one your practise well we praise I drinke to you for your good déed the second gossip sayes They all to put the same in vre do promise by and by Which they fulfil vnto their power forthwith or else I lye Good wiues a iudgement I you pray your verdit Let me heere Where all be falce or all be true by you it must appears How ouer that the mattter goeth the trueth you must descry Or else it is not possible to know if that I lye FINIS The Louers fairing sent to his best beloued To the tune of I wander vp and downe MY comfort and my ioy this fairing I do send Let not vnkindnesse him destroy that is thy faithfull friend A loyall heart I send to thée the same I giue O cherish it and kéepe it safe and so the same will liue But if you it forsake and will not yéeld it grace Itliues and dyes and soone is fled within a little space O slie no promise made nor do me not disdaine One frowne will strike so cruelly that I shall liue in paine A smile reuiues me being dead and is a ioyfull treasure O let that sunne-shine ere be spred for it is my chiefe treasure My selfe and wealth and all I haue a Fairing I do giue To thee that first my heart possest and still maist make me liue Stéele not thy heart nor make it hard but intertaine mine Inâ—e So may I boast and still shall say I shall much comfort win Returne me comfort back let me not languish euer For â— am thine and euer shall till death my life do seuer FINIS The Maidens kind answere to her louer To the same tunc Take courage gentle loue I neuer will thee forsake Nor while I liue shall euer man possession of me take Thy Loyall heart I le kéepe and send mine back to thee Mine is in feare to liue in paine but thine I am sure is free The promise that I made I vow and sweare I le kéepe My loue to thée shall euer wake oh neuer let thine sleepe No frownes shall kill my face but smiles shall stil be séene I long vntil I sée thy face that absent long hath béene My heart doth melt like ware and neuer shall be hard Women haue neuer steely hearts for then their sex were mard All comfort I can send I do returne to thée My heart my selfe and all I haue is thine eternally Finis A maides complaint for lack of a loue Expressing the anguish in mind she doth prooue NO Maiden may so well as I complaine of her hard destiny I am now in prime of yeares yet there is no yong man beares A brest that harboreth a heart that hath compassion on my smart Therefore I am fore affraid I shall liue and dye a maid I cast as other maidens doe Amorous glances for to woe Youngmen to settle on my loue but those glances do not proone They are like shaftes by blindmen shot against a marke that nere is hot Therefore I am sore affraid I shall liue and dic a maide Twenty winters haue I séene as as
many sommers gréene T is enough to bréed vispaire so long a maideu head to beare T is a burden of such waight that I would fame be easd of t straight But alasse I am afraid c. I know that young-men me reiect my beauty merrits more respect My quicke gray eye my chery cheeke where they may finde that list to séeks Matter to increase lones fire and to ffir them to desire But alasse I am afraid c. Higho I loue yet modesty bids me not be too too free In demonstrating my paine least rebuke and shame I gaine But where fire is there it smoakes anguish followes heauy streakes Out alasse I am afraid c. I loue yet loue binds me to paine loue reiected's louers baine We maides are bound by modesty at all assaies to secrecy Modestie's too strict a dame to her will I cannot frame Out alasle I am afraid c. Time hath wrought an alteration blushing is a fooliw fashion All maides leaue it so will I and to my sore a salue apply Babish blushing hinders all who would to modesty be thrall I will be no more afraid I le no longer be a maide Bash full young men make vs bould when they loue in bondage hould They take from vs that ruddy dye that should vpon our faces lye Condemne vs not then louo makes way like fire that 's hid in dryest bay I will be no more afraid I le no longer liue a maide FINIS The Lamentation of an Ale wises daughter for the losse of her Virginity To a new tune IN the spring time when Plants do bud and birds vse chirping notes When beasts do gather heart of grasse and fish in water flotes It was my chance for to espie a Nimph of Venus traine Which in a groue wherein she sat did mightily complaine I hearkned to her sad lament I listned to her tale Whereby it séemed that she had set honesty to sale Alas said shee that mother déere an Alewise was to me Or that it was my heauie chance to vse bad companv Wo be to him that with the Dyle of Angels me intis'd Thrise woe be to the golden baits that often me surpris'd Woe to the toyes of youth too rash Woe to the crafty snares Of Crooked age that youth doe catch in nâ—ts at vnawares Woe to dame Nature for hir paines in making me the glasse For others for to scoffe and laugh as they the way do passe Then gushed out the Siluer streames of water from her eyes Which did bedâ—w her Roseate chéekes and that in dolefull wise Ienkiâ— At which I came spake these words what fortune hath decreed Or how or why haue fatall fates committed such a déed That thou the mirror of our age and pride of Natures bower Farre sweeter then the ruddy Rose or gallant Gilly slower Should'st thus lament and pine away whose cheerfull countenance The hearts of yong and â—ake of old hath causd full oft to daunce I st losse of loue I st want of wealth Is cause thou sleepest alone Or I st the death of some deare friend that causeth thée to moue 100. Not so my friend what doest thou mean to make the thing so strange Experience teacheth after full there néeds must be a change The golden baite intised hath the pretions Pearle from met Which to be gotten back againe remaines without remedy Ien. Your meaning swéet I do not know I pray you tell it plaine Faine would I finde some remedy to ease you of your paine 100. I thanke you for your kind good will which you did shew to me In recompence whereof I will my words make plaine to thée As nature had aborned me with gifts of beauty rare So for to deck and trim my selfe was all my chiesest care Then many suters came to me and most my betters were Whom I disdain'd and set lightby my minde was to seuere At length there came an aged man of money store had he Who with his bags and golden baits hath bred my misery My mother yéelded her consent and causd me doe the samé Which maketh me thus to lament that I must liue in shame Let Maidens then example take and warning by my fall Least they like me should catched be by comming to the call Thus hast thou heard my friend my griefe I can no longer stay Adew and twenty times farewell this sorrowfull month of May. FINIS A new Sonnet of Coridon and Phillida COridon arise my Coridon Titan shineth cleare Cor. Who is it that calleth Coridon who is it I heare Phi Phillida thy true loue calleth thée arise then arise then Arise and féed thy flocks with me Cor. Phillida my true is it she I come then I come then I come and feed my flocks with thée Phi. Here are cheries ripe my Coridon eate them for my sake Cor. Here 's my oaâ—en pipe my lonely on sport for thée to make Here are thréeds my true-loue fine as silke to knit thée to knit thée A paire of stockins white as milke here are réeds my true loue fine and neat To make thée to make thée a bonnet to withstand the heate Phi. I will gather flowers my Coridon to set in thy Cap Cor. I will gather â—ears my louely on to set in thy lap Phi. I wil buy my true-loue garters gaâ— for Sundaies for Sundaies To weare about his legs to tall Cor. I will buy my true loue yellow saye For Sundaies for Sundaies to weare about her midle small Phi. When my Coridon sits on a hill making melody Cor. When my louely on sits at her whéele singing chéerely Sure me thinkes my true-loue doth excell for swéetuesse for swéetnesse Our Pan that old Arcadian knight and me thinkes my true-loue beares that bell For clearenesse for clearenesse beyond the nimphs that be so bright Phi. Had my Coridon my Coridon bin alacke my swaine Had my louely on my louely on bin in â—da plaine Cinthia Endimion had refus'd preferring preferring My Coridon to play withall the Quéene of loue had bin excus'd Bequeathing Bequething my Phillida the golden ball Yonder comes my mother Coridon whither shall I fly Under yonder béech my louely one While she passeth by Say to her thy true-true-loue was not here remember remember To morrow is another day doubt me not my true-true-loue do not feare Farewell then farewell then heauen keepe our loue alway FINIS Coridons Complaint PHillida where hast thou bin Long it is since I haue séene my Phillida Euery éeuâ—â— when day was doon In the absence of the sunne haue we met my loue to sport and play Now thy absence makes me feare Coridon's not held so deare of Philida As he earst was wont to bee Smile as thou wert wont on me Phillida my fairest Phillida Coridon is now as true As when first the heauenly hew of Phillida Made him all-admiring stand And did loue and life command Phillida my fairest Phillida Such sad dumps thy absence breeds That my Pipe of Daten Réeds faire Phillida
Glosters aime did stand Ould Buckingham with might and power in seas of woes did him deuoure He hoped when Richard was made King he would much greater honors bring To Buckingham and to his name and well reward him for the same In Clarence death he had a hand and gainst King Edwards Quéen did stand And to hir sonnes bore little lâ—ue when he as Bastards would them prooue King Edward swore him by his oth in true aledgeance to them both Which if I faile I wish quoth he all Christians curse may light on me It so fell out on All Soules day by law his life was tane away He had his wish though not his will for treasons end is alwaies ill In London hauing pleaded claime and Richard there by won the game He challengd honour for his gaine but was rewarded with disdaine On which disgrace within few houres Great Buckingham had raisd his powers But all in vaine the King was strong and Stafford néeds must suffer wrong His Army faild and durst not stand vpon a Traitors false command Beeing thus deceaued onld Stafford fled not knowing where to hide his head The King with speed to haue him found did offer ful two thousand pound Thus Richard sought to cast him downe whose wit did win him Englands Crowne The plaine old Duke his life to saue of his owne man did succour craue In hope that he would him releiue that late much land to him did giue Base Banester this man was nam'd by this vild déed for euer sham'd It is quoth he a common thing to iniure him that wrongd his King King Edwards children he betraid the like gainst him I will haue plaid Being true my heart him greatly graft but prouing false that loue is past Thus Banester his maister sold vnto his foe for hier of gold But marke his end and rightly see the iust reward of trechery The Duke by law did loose his blood for him he sought to doe most good The man that wrought his Maisters woe by lingring griefe was brought full low For when the King did heare him speake how basely he the Duke did take Instead of gold gaue him disgrace with vanishment from towne and place Thus Banester was forst to beg and craue for food with cap and leg But none to him would bread bestow that to his master proued a foe Thus wandred he in poore estate repenting his misdeed to late Till starued he gaue vp his breath by no man pittied at his death To wofull ends his Children came sore punisht for their fathers shame Within a kennell one was drownd where water scarse could hide the ground Another by the powers diuine was strangely eaten vp of swine The last a wofull ending makes by strangling in a stinking Iakes Let traitors this behold and see and such as false to masters be Let disobedient sonnes draw neere these iudgements wel may touch them néerâ— Both old and young that liue not well looke to be plagu'd by heauen or hell â—o haue you heard the story than of this great Duke of Buckingham The wofull death of Queene Iane Wife to King Henry the eight and how King Edward was cut out of his mothers belly To the tune of the lamentation for the Lord of Essex VVHen as King Henry ruld this land he had a Quéene I vnderstand Lord Semors daughter faire and bright King Henries comfort and delight Yet death by his remorslesse power did blast the bloome of this sweet flower Oh mourne mourne mourn faire Ladies Iane your Quéene the flower of England dies His former Quéenes béeing wrapt in lead This gallant Dame possest his bed Where rightly from her wombe did spring a ioyfull comfort to hir King A welcome blessing to the land preserud by Gods most holy hand Oh mourne mourne mourne faire Ladies Iane your Queen the flower of England dies The Queen in trauell pained sore full thirty wofull daies and more And no way could deliuered be as euery Lady wisht to see Wherefore the King made greater mone then euer yet his grace had showne Oh mourne mourne mourne faire Ladies Iane your Queen the flower of England dies Beeing somthing eased in his mind his eyes a slumbring sleepe did find Where dreaming he had lost a rose but which he could not well suppose A ship he had a rose by name oh no it was his royall Iane Oh mourne mourne mourne faire Ladies Iane your Queen the flower of England dies Being thus perplext in greefe and care a Lady to him did repaire And said oh King shew vs thy will thy Queenes sweet life to saue or spill If she cannot deliuered be yet saue the flower if not the tree Oh mourne mourne mourne faire Ladies Iane your Quéene the flower of England dies Then downe vppon his tender knée for help from heauen prayed he Meane while into a sleepe they cast his Quéene which euermore did last And opening then her tender woombe aliue they tooke this budding bloome Oh mourne mourne mourne faire Ladies Iane your Quéen the flower of Englands dead This babe so borne much comfort brought and cheard his fathers drooping thought Prince Edward he was cald by name gracâ—d with vertue wit and fame And when his father left this earth he ruld this land by law full birth Oh mourne mourne mourne faire Ladies Iane your Quéen the flower of Englands dead But marke the powerfull will of heauen we from this ioy were soone bereauen Sir yeares he raigned in this land and then obeyed Gods command And left his Crowne to Mary heere whose fiue years raigne cost England deare Oh mourne mourne mourne faire Ladies Iane your Quéen the flower of Englands deaâ— Elizabeth raigned next to her Europes pride and Englands starre Wonder world foor such a Quéene vnder heauen was neuer seene A mayd a Saint an Angell bright in whom all princes tooke delight Oh mourne mourne mourne faire Ladies Elizabeth the flower of Englands dead A short and sweet sonnet made by one of the maides of honor vpon the death of Queene Elizabeth which she sowed vppon a sampler in red silke To a new tune or to Phillida flouts me GOne is Elizabeth whom we haue lou'd so deare She our kind Mistris was full foure and forty yeare England she gouernd well not to be blamed Flanders sho succord still and Ireland tamed France she befrended Spaine she hath soiled Papists reiected and the Pope spoyled To Princes powerfull to the world vertuous To her foes mercifull to subiects gracious Her soule is in heauen the world keepes her glory Subiects her good deeds and so ends my story The life and death of famous Th. Stukely an English gallant in the time of Queene Elizabeth who ended his dayes in a battaile of Kings in Barbarie To the tune of King Henries going to Bullin IN the west of England borne there was I vnderstand A famous gallant liuing in his dayes by birth a wealthy Clothiers sonne Deeds of wonder he hath done to purchase him a