Maister G. R. THe curtesies yée haue to me profest The bounty great that doth from you procéed Woulde make me déeme that day to be most blest In which I might stand you in any stéede When if I flinch cry on me open shame And where you come doe bafful my good name If yée doe muse that I but now begin For to expresse that heart hath long concealde Assure your selfe my secrete thought within So pricke me foorth it néedes must be reuealde And eke desire doth bid me let you know The loyall zeale and duety that Iowe As I confesse there is not in me ought To answeare that my Velle would fulfill So make account right farre hée must be sought That doth surmount or passe me in goodwill Which as in wordes I haue geuen out to some My déedes shal try if once occasion come A crew there are whose nature is to gloze And vaunt in words when heart thinks nothing lesse Assure your selfe that I am none of those But will performe what here I doe professe If that I shrink when you haue cause to rid me Doe cast me off and vtterly denie me Of fortunes giftes since slender is my part Take here in signe of happy yéere at hand These ragged lines true herauldes of my heart By which yée may my meaning vnderstand Their maister hath geuen them in charge to tel When he would worst y ◠hée doth wish you wel A Translation out of French O Heauenly God all beastes that doe remayne And nourisht are with foode that thou doest send Within the wooddes the mountaynes and the playne Thy holy hest and lawes doe not offende The scudding fish that swimmes amidst the Sea The pretie birdes that play them in the ayre Sunne moone and starres ech thing doth thée obey And at thy voyce doe tremble all for feare But man alas yea man whom thou doest make More perfect farre then all things els that liue Man whom thou wouldst thy proper shape to take To whom for guyde thou reason eke didst geue And wit and sense for to discerne aright What thing to take what likewise to refuse He he vile wretch and most vnthankefull wight Thy maiesty and honour doth abuse A Complaint of a Sinner O Lord most deare w t many a teare lamenting lamēting I fall before thy face And for ech crime done ere this time repenting repenting Most humbly call for grace Through wanton will I must confesse Thy precepts still I doe transgresse The world with his vayne pleasure Be witcht my senses so That I could find no leasure My vices to forgoe I graunt I haue through my deserte Deserud great plagues and bitter smart But yet swéet God doe stay thy rod forgeue me forgeue me Which doe thine ayde implore O cease thine ire I thée desire beléeue me beleue me I will so sinne no more But still shall pray thy holy name In the right way my steppes to frame So shall I not displease thee Which art my Lord of might My heart and tongue shall prayse thée Most humbly day and night I will delight continually Thy name to lawde and magnify With sighes sobs my heart it throbs remembring remembring The fraylty of my youth I ran a race deuoyd of grace not rendring not rendring Due reuerence to thy truth Such care I cast on earthly toyes That nought I past for heauenly ioyes But now it me repenteth My heart doeth bléede for woe Which inwardly lamenteth That euer it sinned so With many a sigh and many a grone O Lord to thée I make my mone Though furious fires of fond desires allure me allure me From thée so wander wyde Let pitifull eyes and moystened eyes procure thée procure thée To be my Lorde and guyde As Scripture sayth thou doest not craue A sinners death but wouldest him saue That sinfull wretch am I O Lorde Which would repent and liue With ceaslesse plaints I cry Lorde Thy pardon to me geue O Lord for thy swéete Iesu sake Doe not shut vp thy mercie gate Mercy mercy mercy graunt me I pray thée I pray thée Graunt mercy louing Lorde Let not the Diuel which meanes me euill betray me betray mee Protect me with thy worde So shall my heart find swéete reliefe Which now féeles smart and bitter griefe O Lord I doe request thée To guyde my steppes so well That when death shall arest me My soule with thée may dwell In heauen aboue where Angels sing Continuall prayse to thée theyr king A Dumpe THE pangues the priuie mones The inward secrete smarte The griefes the heauie grones That vexe my dolefull heart So plundge my life in paines And reaue mée of all ioy That death is onely meanes To ridde me from anoy I graunt that vitall breath preserueth life in me Yet liue I so that death more welcome farre should be No wight was euer so perplexed with despite I liue to tast ech woe and die to all delight Although by outward looks some déeme me void of thought Lookes are no certayne bookes but beare false titles oft For sundry times I iest when ioy alas is small And laugh amongst the rest yet haue no lust at all Loe thus in secret strife my lingring dayes are led I die yet am aliue I liue as being dead The more I beare it out as if I felt no yll The greater griefes no doubt doe grow within me still The thing which doth amate and most anoy my mind Is that my hard estate no remedy can finde As one that loathes to liue and daily calles for death These lines to thée I geue in witnesse of my fayth A Dumpe by his friende G. C. MY heauy heart in dolours drownde Consumes and pines away And for me wreth nought can be found To cause my cares decay Yée eyes of mine helpe to bewayle Powre foorth your brinish teares To rue alas his wretched state In whom no ioy appeares How should I wretch take any rest How can my heart féele ioy When as the wight that loues mée best Lyes plundged in annoy Whereto serue teares but to bewayle The losse of such a friend Wéepe eies alas wéepe on your fill And neuer make an end His troubled state if to redresse The spending of my blood Or that small pelfe that I possesse Could doe him any good Then should your eies somtimes permit Mée silly wretch to sléepe But out alas it may not bée Wherefore cease not to wéepe Such inward griefe doth mée assayle Through thought of his estate That if I long of succour fayle All helpe will come too late O sacred Ioue to cure these woes Vse thou some spéedie meanes Or els alas with some short death Dispatch mée of these paines For his friend LAte being new fangled so fancie did moue I was fast entangled in nets of blinde loue Good friends doe beléeue me I chose out a trull Which daily doth giue me a shrewd crow to pull Fauour with her felowes raisde coales of desire Bewtie was the bellowes that
not rather rome abroad To séeke some pleasaunt sporte Then to be pend in study fast Like souldier in a forte To hawke to hunt to carde to dice To sing to daunce to play And can there bée more pleasaunt meanes To driue away the day To tosse the buckler and the blade Lewd women to entice Are not these vertues most estéemde And had in greatest price To lend ech man a firiendly looke And vse the glosers arte In outward shew to beare good will And hate him with our heart Are not such men as flatter best In euery coast estéemde Is not Tom teltroath euery where A busie cockscombe déeme It is a world to sée the sotte To haue a checke hée knowes And yet the noddy neuer linnes Mens vices to disclose Hée euer telles men of their faultes Such is his rude behauiour When hée by speaking nought at all Might purchase greater fauour Who countes it not a wisemans parte To runne with hare and hound To say and vnsay with one breath So winning may bée found Wherefore reioyce set cocâ—e on hoope Let nothing make thée sad Bée mery héere when thou art dead No mirth can then bée had Thus wanton will would euery day Still whisper in mine eare And wit which could not then be heard Was fled I know not where Who tries the hazard of the seas By sturdy tempest tost If that a drunkard guide their ship Are they not quickly lost How like I pray you is hée then Toâ— suffer shipwracke still VVhose wit and wisdome gouernde is By his vnruly will This Pilot vile in mée long time Did maisters roome supply Till good Aduice did tell mée plaine I ranne my course awry Hée spyed a time to breake his minde When Will was gone apart And thus to mée he did vnfolde The secretes of his heart O Man for whome Christ on the crosse His precious blood did spill What dost thou meane in mundane toyes To spend thy time so ill Dost thou not thinke that God hath eies To sée thy vile abuse What shew of reason canst thou bring Thy rashnes to excuse Did Christ sustaine must bitter death All sinneâ—â— to redâ—eme And wilt thou wallow still in lust And not his lawes estéeme If he by death and no meanes els Mens sinfull soules could saue Doest thou then thinke by wanton life Eternall ioyes to haue Too too too much thou art deceaude If so thou doe beléeue That he to haue men liue in vice Himselfe to death would geue With vpright eye peruse his lawes And thou shalt cléerely sée Into what sinkes of deadly sinne Thy will hath carried thée Thine eyes doe sée thine eares doe heare Thy senses all doe serue thée Yet canst thou neyther heare nor sée Such thinges as should preserue thée In earthly toyes thou canst discerne That which may best auayle thée But in such thing as touch thy soule Thy eyesight still doeth fayle thée O what a madnesse moues thy minde Thou séest and hast thy senses Yet wilt thou blindly wallow still In filth of vile â—ffences It better were for one to be Of sight depriued cléere Then sée to sinne and not sée that Which chiefly should be séenâ— Take héede therefore at length repent Its better late then neuer For Christ the Cockle from the corne At haruest will disseuer At day of doome the good and bad Shall not alike remayne The good shall taste vncessant ioyes The bad eternall payne Doste thinke that such as tospotlike Set all at sixe and seuen Are in a ready way to bring Their sinfull soules to heauen And those that in great Princes Courtes Doe Ruffian like behaue them Doste déeme that they thereby procure A ready meane to saue them To sweare to stare to bib bowse To flatter glose and lye Is this tell me the stedfast fayth That men are saued by If white be blacke if night be day If true pretence bée treason If fire be colde if senselesse things Fulfill the rule of reason Then may the pleasures of this worlde Be cause of our saluation For otherwise thou must confesse They further our damnation Take héede therefore and warned thus Let not the worlde beguile thée Ne let the lustes of lawlesse flesh With sinfull déedes defile thée Let wilfull will be banisht cleane With all his wanton toyes Which filles thy head with vayne delightes In stéede of stedfast ioyes Note well my wordes still serue the Lorde Repent and sinne no more Christ hath for true repentaunt heartes Great mercie still in store When good aduice had tolde this tale Prostrate I downe did fall And humbly holding vp my handes Thus on the Lorde did call OMighty God which for vs men Didst suffer on the Crosse The payneful pangues of bitter death To saue our soules from losse I yéeld thée héere most hearty thankes In that thou doest vouchsaue Of me most vile and sinfull wretch So great regard to haue Alas none euer had more cause To magnifie thy name Then I to whom thy mercies shewde Doe witnesse well the same So many brunts of fretting foes Who euer could withstand If thou hadst not protected me with thy most holy hand A thousand times in shamefull sort My sinfull life had ended If by thy gratious goodnesse Lorde I had not byn defended In stinking pooles of filthy vice So déepely was I drownde That none there was but thée alone To set my foote on ground Whenas the fiend had led my soule Euen to the gates of hell Thou caldst mée backe and doest me choose In heauen with thée to dwell Let furies now fret on their fill Let Sathan rage and rore As long as thou art on my side What néede I care for more MY Prayer sayde me thought I felt Such quiet in my mynde As shipmen after tempest past In wished harbour finde My wil woulde then no more presume To rule in reasons place For good aduice would bée at hand His doyngs to disgrace Who tolde me playne that wanton will Did alwayes serue the Diuell And was his busiest instrument To stirre vp men to euill Although the gallant be so braue And sell such pleasures here They that best cheape doe buy the same Shall find it all too déere Yet they that woulde aduenture there The Diuell and all may gayne With euery inch of pleasant ioyes He selles ten Elles of payne If that thou wisely wilt foresée Such winnings to eschew Ere beggery take thée by the backe Doe byd the Court adew Hencefoorth exile vile wanton will Which is thy chéefest foe Goe get thée home liue to thy selfe And let all courting goe Experience now should make thée know What vice in court doth rayne And tract of time shoulde teach thée shunne Her pleasures mixt with payne Though some may dayly there be séene That follow vertue still Which honour God obey their Prince And flie from dooyng ill Yet sure of them the greatest parte Are carried so away With vayne delightes that they ne thinke Nor mynde their soules decay O that
vice doe to thy lot befall From thée they came doe take them to thee all To thée O earth agayne I do restore My carrion corpes which from thée did procéede Because it did neglect all godly lore Let gréedy wormes vpon it alwayes féede Let it in filth consume and rot away And so remaine vntil the iudgement day But my poore soule whō Christ most déerly bought Which hated sinne and loathed to offend Together with ech good and godly thought Into thy handes swéete Iesu I commend O sauiour Christ doe guide my steppes so well That after death she stil with thée may dwell A Complaynt of a Louer IF euer wofull wight had cause to pipe in bitter smart I which am thrall to Cupids lawes with him may beare a part Whose ioyful dayes alas are gone whom daily cares doe tosse But wote yée why I thus take on my lucke is turnde to losse Erecruell loue my heart possest no cares did vexe my head But since he harboured in my brest my golden dayes are fled Time was when fortune did allow great gladnesse to my share But ah for that time is not now doth grow my cause of care Time was when I liude in delight and reapt of ioyes my fill But now time is workes me despite would waste had tarried still No hap so hard no griefe so great whereof I féele not part Now shiuering colde now flaming heate anoyes my wofull heart So that hope is the onely stay on which my life dependes Which if it once be tane away my date of liuing ends God graunt my hope such hap may sée that good successe ensue Which if it long prolonged be through griefe I die adiew For his friende I That in fréedome liued of late And neuer stoupt to Cupids lure Haue now made change of my estate And thousand torments doe endure As late abrode I cast my lookes In fancies lune I fast was cought And beauty with her bayted hookes Hath me alas in bondage brought I loue but lacke the thing I craue I liue but want my chiefest good I hope but hap I cannot haue I serue but starue for want of foode Then so to loue what state more yll Such life affoordes small time of ioy Such wauering hope doth often kill To serue and starue what worse anoy Yet wil I loue whiles life doth last And liue whiles any hope remaines And hope when dismal dayes are past To haue reward for all my paynes Loe thus I liue by hope sustaynd Yet through dispayre die euery houre In sorow glad in pleasure painde Now fed with swéete now choakt with sowre Deare Dame in humble sort I sew Since mine estate to you is known Voutsafe my dolefull case to rew And saue his life who is your owne Somewhat made of nothing at a Gentlewomans request YE gladly would haue me to make you some toy And yet will not tel me wherof I should write The strangenes of this doth bréed me anoy And makes me to séeke what things to endite If I should write rashly what comes in my braine It might be such matter as likes you not best And rather I would great sorow sustayne Then not to fulfill your lawfull request Two dangers most doubtful oppresse me alike Ne am I resolued to which I might yéelde Wherfore by perforce I am foretd to séeke This slender deuice to serue for my shield Since nothing yée geue me to busie my brayne Nothing but your nothing of me can yée craue Wherfore now receiue your nothing agayne Of nothing but nothing what els would yée haue Of the instability of Fortune WHo wisely waies false fortunes fickle change Which in short space turnes loue to mortal hate Shall find smal cause to déem it wondrous strange To fléete from happie life to worse estate For whie her swéete is alwaies mixt with sowre If now shée fawne she frownes within an houre Her smiles are wyles to cause men hope for hap Her traynes bréede paynes though pleasant be the show Him whom shée now doth dandle in her lap Straightway sustaines a wretched ouer throw And whom thou séest at foote of whéele downe cast Within short space shée hoyseth vp as fast The raging Seas which dayly ebbes and flowes The wauering winds which blow now here now there More constant are then fortunes flattering vowes Who in one hoode a double face doth beare To trust her lookes when shée doth fleere or laugh Is nothing els but trust a broken staffe Pollicrates as auncient writers tell On Fortunes whéele most highly was aduaunste And many a yéere shée fauourd him so well That no ill hap long time vnto him chaunst Yet in the end to shew her double wayes With hemping roape shée causde him end his dayes If thou wilt shun all sorow and distresse By fortunes threates doe set but litle store If thine affayres haue euer good successe Yéeld hearty thankes to God thy Lorde therefore If great annoyes doe fall vpon thée fast Thinke them due plagues for some offences past By prayer then make leuell with the Lorde Repentant hearts haue mercie when they call Loue him with feare delight to reade his worde So great good haps vnto thée will befall So shalt thou leade thy life without annoyes And after death possesse eternal ioyes Of the vanitie of this life I Reade in Poets faigned bookes That wise Vlysses wandring came Where Circes through her fawning lookes Did worke his men a spightfull shame She causde them quaffe great bowles of wine And presently they turnde to swine But hée which followed vertue still Refusde to taste this proffered charme And would not worke her beastly will As one that doubted farther harme Her witchcraftes and enchantmentes straunge Were not of force this man to chaunge The world with his alluring toyes Is Circes witch of whome they write Which temptes vs with her sugred ioyes And makes vs swimme in such delight That wée so play with pleasures ball As if there were no God at all If man would way what enemies Are alwayes prest him to deuoure Mée thinkes from sinne hée should arise And make defence with all his power For why the world the flesh and deuill Doe neuer cease to worke vs euill These so bewitch our foolish braines That nought wée force eternall paine And euery one in sinne remaines As if hell were a fable vaine Alas wée are seduced so That all true heartes do bléede for woe The shéepe doth yéerely yéelde his fléese The plodding Oxe the plow doth draw And euery thing in willing wise Kéepes and obayes dame Natures law But man in witte which should excell Against his Lord doth still rebell Ech doth deferre from day to day And thinkes the morow to amend But death arestes vs by the way And sodainly some makes their end O wretched case that they bée in Which die and not lament their sinne Thou silly man still feare the Lord Thy former sinnes with spéede forsake The iudgement day in minde record In which ech
Gratitude she was That thākful Dame whose custom is frō friend to friend to passe I tooke my pen in hand with purpose to declare The Circumstance of this my dreame w t cloyd my hed with care Herein also I thought her precepts to obey And al the plot of thy deserts most largely to display But when my dreame was done I found such litle store Of paper that I could not haue wherin to write the more ¶ One that had a frowarde Husband makes complaynt to her mother Written in French by Clement Marott AND is there any wight aliue That rightly may compare Or goe beyond me silly wretch In sadnesse and in care Some such may be but this I say One must goe farre to séeke To finde a woman in this worlde Whose griefe to mine is like Or hath so iust a cause of moane In dumps of déepe despite I linger on my loathsome life Depriud of all delight Men say the Phoenix is a birde Whose like cannot bée found I am the Phoenix in this worlde Of that those care doth wound And he that workes me all this woe May be the Phoenix well Of all enraged senslesse wightes That in the earth doe dwell I moane not here as Dido did Being stryken at the heart As woorthy Virgill doeth recorde With dint of Cupids dart Nor in my playnts some Louer name As Sappho did of yore But husband is the cause héereof Which makes my griefe the more For Louers if they like vs not We may cast of agayne But with our husbandes good or bad Till death we must remayne I doe not speake these wordes as if His death I did desire But rather that it might please God His thoughts so to enspire That he might vse me as he ought Or as I doe deserue Since that I him as duety byndes Doe honour loue and serue And séemes it not desert thinke you At his commaund to haue The beauty greate and other giftes that nature to me gaue Ist not desert such one with him In loyall bed to lie As alwayes hath most faythfull byn And will be till shée die To looke on him with chéerefull face to call him Spouse and friend To coll and kisse all this hée hath With franke and willing mynde And all thinges els as God commaunds And duety doth allowe Yet am I dealt with at his handes Alas I know not howe Hée thanklesse man doth ill for good Agaynst all right and lawe Hée had of me good fruitfull Corne And payes mée chaffe and straw For méeke and humble curtesie Fierce cruelty hée geues For loyalty disloyalty And that which most mée grieues Is when in swéete and humble sorte I come to make my moane His heart no more is mollified Then is the Marble stone The cruell Lyon ready bent With pawes and téeth to teare When that the silly Hounde doeth yéelde His malice doeth forbeare When Attalus the Romayne host Did erst subdue in field His heart to mercy was enclinde Assoone as they did yéelde Blacke Pluto eke the Prince of hell Vneasie to bée woone When Orpheus had playde on harpe His rankour all was done By swéetnesse and by curtesie What is not wrought alas Nerethlesse the swéetenesse Feminine Which others all doth passe Can nothing doe before the eyes Of my hardhearted féere The more that I submit my selfe The straunger is his chéere So that in wrongfull cruelty And spite he doth excel The Lions wilde the Tyrants stoute And monsters eke of hel As ofte as I reuolue in mynde The greatnesse of my harmes I thinke how foorth the Fowler goes with swéete and pleasant charmes To take the birds which once betrayd He eyther killes straight way Or kéepes them pende in pensiue cage That flie no more they may And so at first I taken was By his swéete fléering face And now depriude of ioy alas Am handled in like case Now if the birdes as some auouch Doe curse his kéeper still In language his why curse I not The Author of my yll That griefe doeth euer greater harme Which hidden lies in brest Then that which to some faithfull friend By speaking is exprest My sorowes then shall bée reuealde Some stedfast friend vnto My tongue thereby vnto my heart A pleasure greate may doe But vnto whom shoulde I disclose My bondage and my thrall Vnto my spouse No surely no My gaynes shoulde bee but small Alas to whom then shoulde I moane Should I some Louer choose Who in my sorowes and my griefes As partner I might vse Occasions great do counsell me To put this same in vre Mine honour and mine honestie Forbid such rashnes sure Wherefore ye louers al adew Vnto some other goe I will obserue my vowed fayth Though to my greatest foe To whome shal I powre forth my plaints To you most louing mother For they by dutie do belong To you and to none other To you I come to séeke reliefe With moyst and wéeping eies Euen as the heart with thirst opprest Vnto the fountaine hies If any salue in all the world may serue to cure my wound Dame Nature sayes vndoubtedly In you it must be found Now if some succour may be had Assisted let me be But if it lie not in your power Yet spend some teares with me That yours with mine mine with yours Might so kéepe moyst the flowre That erst procéeded from your wombe And wasteth euery houre His Friend W. C. to Mistres F. K. whom he calls his Captaine AS Souldiers good obey their captaines will And readie are to goe to ride or runne And neuer shrinke their duety to fulfill But what they byd it by and by is done So rest I yours good Captayne to dispose When as you please to combate with your foes Your foes sayd I alas what may they be That haue the heart to harme so swéete a wight Who dare attempt to try his force with thée Shall conquerd be ere he begin to fight Let thousand foes agaynst thee come in field Thy beauty great will make them all to yéeld To yéeld sayd I nay rather would they choose By thée subdude to liue in bondage still Then lead such life as Conquerors doe vse In thy disgrace and wanting thy good will But strike the drumme let the trumpet sound To take thy part whole legions wil be found So many eares as euer heard thée speake So many eyes as haue thy feature vewde So many handes thy puysance hath made weake So many heartes thy beauty hath subdued Ech of these eares ech eye ech hand ech heart Swéet Captain stil are prest to take thy part Ech eare to heare when enuy séekes thy foyle Ech eye to spy who worketh thine anoy Ech hand with blade to conquere them in broyle Ech gladsome heart for victory to ioy Thus euery part the trusty friend will play For thy behoofe whom God preserue alway The complaynt of a sinner LIke as the théefe in prison cast With wofull wayling mones When hope of pardon cleane is
past And sighes with dolefull grones So I a slaue to sinne With sobs and many a feare As one without thine ayde forlorne Before thy throne appeare O Lorde in rage of wanton youth My follies did abounde And eke since that I knewe thy trueth My life hath béene vnsound Alas I doe confesse I see the perfect way Yet frayltie of my féeble fleshe Doth make me run astray Aye me when that some good desire Woulde moue me to doe wel Affections fond make mée retire And cause me to rebell I wake yet am asléepe I sée yet still am blinde In ill I runne with hedlong race In good I come behinde Loe thus in life I daily die And dying shall not liue Vnlesse thy mercy spéedily Some succour to me geue I die O Lorde I die If thou doe mée forsake I shall be likened vnto those That fall into the lake When that one prop or onely stay Holdes vp some house or wall If that the prop be tane away néedes must the building fall O Lorde thou art the prop to which I cleane and leane If thou forsake or case mée of I still shall liue in paine Although my hard and stony hart Be apt to runne astray Yet let thy goodnesse mee conuert So shall I not decay Swéete God doe rue my plaints And shéelde mée from annoy TheÌ„ my poore sâ—ule this life once past Shall rest with thée in ioy ¶ Of the vncontented estate of Louers WHo so attempts to publish and display Of Cupids thrals the strange awkward fits Doth seeke to count the sand amidst the Sea And wades beyond the compasse of his wits Whose griping greefes and passions to disclose Is to describe a world of care and woes More easie its to weild the weightie charge That Atlas hath in bearing vp the Skies Then to vnsolde and picture out at large The vnâ—outh caresin louers brests that lies Whose rest is toyle whose ioy is endlesse greife They often sue but seeldome finde reléefe Yf Plutoes denne that vgly pit of hell Great griefly plague and tormentes hath in store I dare auouch that those in loue which dwell Do tast them all and twice as many more Which makes mée say not without good cause Thrice happlesse wights that yéelde to Cupids lawes As Aetna hill doth belke forth flakes of fire And hydeous sounds are harde within the same So Louers burne through inwarde hot desire And hollow sighes burst out amidst the flame Whose scorched harts dispaire and anguish gnaw Lyke gréedy Gripes that peck Prometheus maw In mirth they moane yet smile amidst their woe In fire they fréese in frost they fry straight way Swift legges to runne yet are not able goe Such is the state in which poore Louers stay As houering hope dooth hoyst them vp on hye Feare clips their wings so that they cannot flye They fayne in hell one only plague to fall For iust reuendge to those that doe amisse But they that loue are subiect to them all And neuer féele one lightning howre of blisse That to conclude thrice happy is their chaunce That neuer knew to treade the louers daunce A Newyeres gift to Mistresse C. P. SWéet wight be glad pluck vp your sprites Old Friendship is renewd Milde Concord hath thrown down the broth That Discord lately brewd Fowle Enuie Malice and Debate In teares their time doe spend In that the platforme which they layde Came not to wished end The mightie Ioue which ruleth all Their prayers heard no doubt Else could not their hot kindled wrath So soone bée quenched out Thus farre their furie did preuaile A time and place was set Wheras at their appoynted houre To try it out they met And dealt For vowes had rashly past So long foes to abide Vntill the one the others force In open field had tried I shrinke to thinke what horror great Now gripes your heart through feare I séeme to sée ech member quake As if yée had béene there To heare my muse vnto your eares This dolefull tale to tell Put feare to flight cast care aside All things are ended well But Rancour vile couldst thou powre forth Thy spite vpon none other But that to combat thou must bring My father and my brother And I my selfe with eies must sée And view this dolefull sight Goe packe thou hast sustaind the foyle For all thy poysoned might For by the blowes that they did giue Theyr friendship doth encrease And in their heartes establisht is An euerduring peace The séedes that thou in them didst plant Are pluckt vp by the roote Thy sister Discord neuer shall Againe set in her foote For if in dealing of their blowes Their handes had not bene blest A late repent had made them rew For harbouring such a gest But of vngrate discurtesies Wée iustly might complaine In that entreaties would not serue To make them friendes againe If in their mad and brainsicke heads Dame Reason had borne sway But malice rancour and debate Had banisht wit away So that occasion of this broyle Was not our faythfull friendes But these forenamed furies fell And other hellish fiendes Whose daily driftes are to deface Of friends the pure estate And makes them barbour in their hearts Great heapes of deadly hate In that things past betwixt them are For giuen and forgot Let vs imbrace and loue them so As if this happened not If straunge it seeme that straunger I in verse to you doe write Assure your selfe it doeth proceede through greatnesse of delite That I conceaue in that I see them reconcilde so well Whome no perswasions latelie serude their furies to expell These simple verses to your viewe I haue thought good to sende In token of a good neweyeere and so farewel I ende A straunge historie YEe that would heare a Story straunge To this example rare Attentiuely take héede Which pictures héere before your face A worthy wight indéede A Phenix well she may be calde Whose lyke cannot be founde Chast Camna was her name Endued with such comely giftes As none can tell the same All wiues that in those dayes did lyue This woman did excell In constant loue towardes her spouse As doth my Story tell Sinatus was her Husbande cald a gentleman by blood Whose graue aduice in time of néede did neighbours his much good In such chast loue this man and wife togither did remaine That no man could their spotlesse life With any blot distaine In selfe same citie where they dwelt A tyraunt vile bare rule Sinoris was his name Who being taken with her loue Did wooe this worthy Dame When after many onsets giuen Hée had sustaind repulse His trauayle spent in vaine Her worthy spowse Sinatus then Hée caused to bée slaine For he surmisde the feruent loue That shée to husband bare Did hinder him from his desires And eke procurd his care This done afresh this tyraunt vile Pursues in cursed suite Of her then that hée did before Hée reapes none other fruite The secret flames of Cupids fire