world cares little for a man Charitie and fortune differ far Fortune fauors many an asse Charitie forgiues and forgets iniuries Charitie hath no end of hir bountie Charitie giues few words but doth many good deeds Charitie is the 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 shall beâ—â—sled Charitie conquers euery where like a victor Bad life would driue charitie in exile Men go transformed now a daâ—s Some people are as greedy as guls Quarrels breeds mischiefe and bloudshed Lust is a theefe and robs vs of life Pride and presumption is bold as blâ—nde bayaâ—d New fanglenes is easily found out Wilful heads hates good counsell Ill custome Breedes abuse Two plagues past thâ—eatens a third Shame followes pride and deartâ— nipped sore Proud painted posts are rotteâ— in the middle Pride alubberly lout lookes like a monarke The woorst with hâ—e hart compares with the best A surly sire swels like a a toad A stately stalke thinks none like himselfe A craftie crue are wilier than the foxe Cunâ—ing lads are â—s quicke aâ— a â—ee Preferments are not got with shooting toe short They hit the white that haue good hap Ech man prefers his seruaâ—ts and friends Hope well can get no money from the mint Serue long spends much and gets little Who makes haste to amend any misse New natures alters good old conditions Not one doth right search and you shall see Artificers and all are light in the ballance Plagues will not cease till bad life be reformed Wild buds brings foorth no good fruit Neither world not weather keeps good course Neither world nor weather keeps good course Cold weather or world pleaseth none Cold aire kils sometime sound and sicke Cold loue quicklie takes leaue Cold fortune kils any man liuing Cold foode is comfortles and hard to digest Cold hungrie baites may kill a horse Cold words makes a man desperate A colder season in all sorts was neuer seene Cold words and workes makes many a heauy hart Cold winter may bring some sommer daies Warme loue 〈◊〉 awaken charitie againe The authorâ— breath is to cold 〈◊〉 do any good Aged yeers showes death 〈◊〉 â—t hand Labor is well â—â— stowed when wise men are 〈◊〉 Amphyon and Orpheus Poets and excellent musitions Liuius Andronicus and Ennius Dant Bocace and Petrarke Marâ—ot Ronsaâ—t and dâ— Baâ—tas Goâ—re Chaufer 〈◊〉 the noble earle of Sâ—â—â—â—e Dauy Lindzey and Buckananus They honor and make much of their â—imers In Wales they call their rimers Bardes Albinus loued poetrie much The rude Indians make much of their rimers The Danes and Saxons had many poets among them In Greece their best philosophers at the first became poets Thales Empedocles and Parmenides Pithagoras and Phosillides Torteus Solon that wrate the fable of the Atlantick Iland Plato a diuine philosopher did stoup to poetrie Herodotus Dominician Vaspasians sonne as Plinie saith was an excellent poet Alexander Caesar and Scipio Alexander Phoreus wept at a tragedy Menenus Agrippa a philosopher made peace among the people in an vprore Simonides and Pyndarius made Hiero a iust king Nathan spake of a lambe vngraciously taken from his bosome Dauid and Salomon deuine poets Platoes dialog called Ion. Lelius a Romane Socrates both were poets Iames the first that was king of Scotland and K. Iames the sixt now raigning great poets The Greeke Socrates put Aesops fables into verse and Aristotle wrate the art of poetrie Emperors kings captains and Senators were poets and favoured the art Adrian and Sophocles great poets â—f our 〈◊〉 me the paâ—â—â— poetry Robert â—ng of Cicâ—ll and 〈◊〉 great Frances â—ng of France Cardinall Berabus and Bibiena Famous teachers and preachers Beza and Melancton Learned philosophers Fracastorius and Scaliger Great and good orators Pontanus and Muretus And beyond all these the hospitall of France being builded on vertue gaue poets a singular commendation Alexander kept the bookes of Homer in 〈◊〉 his Iewel casket Menander the comicke poet being sent for by embassadors of Macedonia and Aegipt preferred the conscience of learning before kinglie fortunes Augustus Caesar wrate familiar epistles vnto Horace which Horace in his life was aduanced to the tribuneship of soldiers and when he died he left Augustus Caesar his heire Virgill entring the colledge of poets in Rome the rest of the poets there did more reuerence to him than to the emperor and when he came into the senate the senators likewise did so Dauid sung the Liricke verses to his harp and those ebrue songs consisted of divers feet and vnequall numbers somtime in Iambikes running other while Insaphicks swelling again in halfe a foote amiably halting Salomon in the gardens of Engadda framed songs to his harpe which then was a heauenly musicke Ieremie wrate his funerall lamentations in saphycks long before Simonides the Greeke poet Isaias wrate sacred Odes holie verses and for remembring the mysteries of god therein a tyrant king caused him to be sawed a sunder The song of Sydrack and his fellowes in the hot flame was in verse Moises by some men is thought the first deuiser of verse and his sister Marie deuised the exaâ—eter and by it to haue glorified Iehoua Ausonius a french man and poet schoolemaster to Gracianus the Emperor was aâ— orator and consul of Rome therfore Homer writes that Achilles sonne of Peleus was a singular liricke poet singing and plaing the noble deeds of cheeftaines Linus of Thebes a most ancient poet he was the sonne of Mercury and wrate the course of the sun moone and spheres in excellent verse Tiberius Nero the Emperor a poet and Lucan his tresorer a poet on a publike theater they shewed â—he tragedie Orpheus Adrianus Augustus Emperor a poet and preferrer of poetrie Iulianus Empeperor and Caius Iulius Caesar. Oppianus of great nobilitie Sextus Aurelius Propertius one of the Dedicie Scenica a spaniâ— knight Neros schoolemaster Sophocles and Pericles â—milius 〈◊〉 a man of noble parentage Anacreon of Theios with Pollucrates king of the Samiana Aâ—atus all his life time liued with Anâ—igâ—nus Lucius Cecilliâ—â— Câ—sar play â—â—loâ—e Cirus the poet treasorer of the Emperor Theodocius and Apatrician Publius and â—aberius companions with Iulius Caesar. Arian the poet of Periander king of Corinth Raâ—ullides with Iulianus the Emperor Claudianâ—s his tombâ—â—â—â—ored bâ—â—â—norâ—â—s and Aâ—cadius Emperors Aeschiron in hiâ— whole militarie expedition â—amiliar with Alexander Masonides honored of Adrian the Emperor Ariosto liked of all good wits Torquator Tasso an Italian knight and poet laureaâ— who departed from obliuion to immortalitie this last Aprill 1595. whose memorie shall neuer vanish Mounsiour Dâ—uereux a yoong Bishop at this day liuing in France accounted now the singular man in Europ for verse and poâ—ticall deuises Sir Phillip Sidney to appology
A MVSICALL CONSORT OF HEAuenly harmonie compounded out of manie parts of Musicke called CHVRCHYARDS CHARITIE Imprinted at London by Ar. Hatfield for William Holn 5. 1595. TO THE RIGHT HONORAble ROBERT DEVEREVX Earle of Essex and Eâ—e Vâ—count of Hereford Lord Ferrer of Chartley Borâ—her and Louâ—ine Master of the Queenes Maiesties horse Knight of the noble order of the garter and one of hir Maiesties honorable priuie Counsell Thomas Churchyard wisheth increase of all wished honor happines of life worlds good will and euerlasting fame A Greater boldnes cannot be committed Right Honorable than to present Pamphlets and Poetrie to noble Counsellors that gouernes a publike state though in all ages reasonable writers that kept an orderly compasse were suffered in verse or prose so their inuentions were not farced ful of vanitie to shew good will in the dedication of some honest labors to such honorable personages as was woorthie of any good volumes or in the woorth of vertue excelled the waight and value of numbers that neither merits laudation nor shew no sufficiency to be saluted with a booke But what I see and the world reports of your Lordship makes me somwhat hardie to offer a present yet simplenes of spirit and want of profound learning hath so muffled my muses that they dare not speake nor I presume to write neuertheles thinking on your twenty fold honorable father my great good Lord matchlesse in our world that caried in his breast the feare of God and wan with his life the loue of men so noble was his minde I stood nothing discouraged bicause a soldier like noble sonne of his is left aliue to follow the steps of so stately a father and to shine aboue and beyond the course of thousands in this time or is likely to come after this age To treate of particulars in that behalfe I should presume too far and vnaduisedly come too short of matter fit for this cause Wherefore I am to leaue those deepe considerations and drop into the shallownes of mine owne studies that brings foorth a booke of the coldnes of charitie bicause a great noble man told me this last wet sommer The weather was too colde for Poets On which fauorable words I bethought me that charitie in court and all the world ouer was become so cold that neither hot sommer feruent fire nor heate of sunne could make warme againe in that comfortable sort as our forefathers haue felt it so my good L. following that onely theame of cold weather being apt to take any theam to write on in as sweete a phrase and termes as I may deuise putting in the praise of Poets withall I smoothly passe ouer without bitter speeches the corruption of this world and disguised maners of men riding by the new fanglenes of a multitude and not dashing any ones infirmitie with blot of disgrace or blemish of credit hoping the best sort shall stand pleased with howsoeuer the woorst happily may be touched do of meere malice wrest awry the honest meaning of a plaine writer For the dutifull regard towards the purchasing of your L. fauor hath so sifted euery word and sentence that no one verse or line shall bee offensiue to a sounde iudgement and good construction And for that now by reason of great age my wits and inuentions are almost wearied with writing of bookes this being one of the last I tooke this taske in hand at large to dilate somewhat of Charitie which would to God I had as great power to reuiue as the world hath occasion to remember Thus ouer-bold to trouble your L. so long with the reading of so simple an Epistle I proceed vnder your honorable supportation to my purposed matter wishing your L. euerlasting fame credit and honor most humbly at commandement THOMAS CHVRCHYARD AN EVERLASTING MEMORIE OF CHRISTIAN comfort to the Queenes most excellent Maiestie O Grashous dame in whose graue iudgment great The heauens hie lies open plaine to sight The earth belowe takes from thy regall seat In darkest daies his hope and cleerest light For at thy feet a world of woorthies fall ELIZABETH a monarke to them all An Empresse heere three kingdoms showes vs plaine On which three realms our Queen may rightly raine O treble Queen the sweete and highest part That we like best and shrillest voice doth sound The onely meane to shew deepe musicks art Where all the skill of well set song is found Grant silly man a grace that meanes to sing Of heaunly loue and of none other thing He sings of peace a song should lull asleepe The fellest feends and fearfull bugs below Peace charms with words the wolfe that wearies sheep That neither lambe nor kid astraie shall goe For as the hen hir chickens keepes from kite So charitie doth saue hir children all From common plagues and wicked worlds despite And all the wrath that from the clouds can fall She spreds hir wings to keepe hir birds from cold And learns poore chicks to picke vp graines of gold This charitie so checkles ore hir broode She scrapes the earth to make hir yoong ones feed And freely from hir selfe doth spare them foode She takes in hart such care for those that neede If charitie were not the onely nurse To nourish vp each thing that life doth beare This backward world would grow from ill to woorse And brutish â—olke would banish loue and feare Warme Christian loue as long as life doth last Doth bide the shocke and brunt of eurie blast And kindled once in any princely hart It burnes and flames as hot as Aethna hill Creepes throw the vains and nerues in euerie parâ— Cannot be quencht with water wit nor skill A heaunly grace maintains a heaunly loue Each thing diuine diuinely is set foorth Planted like rocke that nothing may remoue Garnisht like gold or perle of greatest woorth The charitie I meane is garded so And for hir saith through fire and aire may goe But what is that to him that sings a song â—f twenty parts when he one voice must sound Presumes to tell a tale perchance too long To sacred eares whose iudgement is profound Sing hie or lowe how ere the tune he takes For one small iar the song begins againe No shift may serue for concord musicke makes Most harmonie consists in pricksong plaine Diuision doth but teare in peeces small The minnems long and little crotchets all Full softly blowes a quiet calmie winde A still milde voice doth please the hearers well No note nor ring so much contents the mind As solemne sound of cleere sweet siluer bell O that my muse might get so great a grace As credit win throw any sound it shoes I die to see one fearfull frowne of face VVhere these meeke words and humble verses goes Now mirthles song begin thy new found note As strange a straine as any eare hath hard If world would learne to sing the same by rote Good charitie should grow in more regard Play well thy part so
throte ere we be ware Cold poison â—onke a quicke dispatch it giues Cold craâ—â—s dries vp the sences where they are Cold lims waxe lame and breeds diseases rare Thus cold mars all then warmth God send vs now That eurie part of man feele comfort throw Cold food is faint vnto weake stomacks still Warme broths keeps health in perfect sound estate Warme daies we wish cold bitter aire is ill Cold blasts be nought sharpe blustring storms we hate Sweetly sun shines in world earlie or late Cold quicklie caught goes seldome soone away And long cold nights kils some before the day Cold drie hard froâ—â— makes thousands seeke for fire Warme meate giues spreet to either sicke or sound Cold hungrie baites makes many a horse to tire Warme clouts and clothes doth comfort eurie wound No fruit thriues well where cold doth much abound The warmth doth ioy both spring and fall of leafe Makes dead things quicke delights both dum deafe Yea blind and lame and all that life doth beare Are glad of heate then cold is out of grace Cold words God wot when meaning scarce is there Kils many a man in court or any place O wold to God warme deeds did show his face That charitie hir whole effect may show On those that needs which knows not where to goe A colder time in world was neuer seene The skies do lowre the sun and moone waxe dim Sommer scarce knowne but that the leaues are greene The winters waste driues water ore the brim Vpon the land great flotes of wood may swim Nature thinks scorne to do hir dutie right Because we haue displeasde the Lord of light Cold works cold words cold world and al things cold Showes death drawes neer and then a deep cold graue Such hard cold hap may make a yoong man old Or old gray beard become a gallâ—e slaue Well let them loose that can neâ— in nor saue The state of man on strange hap hazard lies As one fals downe so doth another rise If charitie would once bespread hirraies As Phoebus showes abroad his shining beames Or winter cold would bring some sommer daies And rid vs soone from all these great extreames Then shee dies not but haplie sleeps and dreames Now waken hir that haue most powre to speake I haue tane cold and so my voice growes weake You whose cleer speech doth loud as trumpet sound And may command the world the skies and stars And rules at beck the massie earth so round Sets orders downe and can make peace and wars And hath the force to breake big iron bars Call charitie fot loue once home againe That shee may heare hir people poore complaine My breath but bores a hole within the aire My date neer don cals for a shrouding sheet My darke dim daies lookes for no weather faire Mine eies can scarce look to my stumbling feet My wounted muse forsakes my drowping spreet My books and scroules and all that I haue wrot Hides now their heads as I were cleane forgot When aged yeers showes death amid my face My words are of small credit in this plite My hap and hope is in a better place Wherefore of world I plainly speake and write And ere I goe discharge my conshence quite To win the wise and loose the fonder sort That vnto quicke nor dead yeelds good report The wise well won waies ech thing as it ought Mistakes no terme nor sentence wrests awrie The fond will read awhile but cares for nought Yet casts on ech mans works a frowning eie This neither treats of matters lowe not hie But finds a meane that ech good meaning might In all true meanes take charitie aright FINIS A PRAISE OF POETRIE Imprinted at London by Ar. Hatfield for William Holme 1595. A praise of Poetrie some notes therof drawen out of the Apologie the noble minded Knight sir Phillip Sidney wrate WHen world was at the very woorst And vice did much abound And for offence the earth was curst Yet charitie was found Among the wise and woorthie sort Who euer had good chance with treble fame by their report True vertue did aduance The Poets and Philosophers Stept first on stately stage And plaid their parts with hazards great In euery world and age In eury age while wits of men Could iudge the good from bad Who gat the gift of toong or pen Of world great honor had Good Poets were in hie esteeme When leaâ—ning grew in price Their vertue and their verse did seeme A great rebuke to vice With blunt base people of small sence They fall now in disdaine But Sydneyes booke in their defence Doth raise them vp againe And sets them next Diuines in ranke As members meete and fit To strike the worlds blinde boldnes blanke And whet the bluntest wit Heere followes Histories good store That much thereof shall tell If paines may purchase thanks therefore My hope is answerd well AMphyons gift and grace was great In Thebes old stories saie And beasts and birds would leaue their meatâ— To heare Orpheus plaie In Rome were three of peereles fame That florisht in their daies Which three did beare the onely name Of knowledge skill and praise In Italy of yore did dwell Three men of spechall spreete Whose gallant stiles did sure excell Their verses were so sweete In France three more of fame we finde Whose bookes do well declare They beautifide their starely minde With inward vertues rare In England liued three great men Did Poetrie aduance And all they with the gift of pen Gaue glorius world a glance In Scotland finde we other twaine Were writers of good woorth Whose studies through their Poets vaine Brought many verses foorth In Ireland to this present time Where learning is not mich With Poetrie in verse or rime Their language they inrich In Wales the very remnant yet Of Brittaine bloud and race They honor men of speshall wit And giues a Poet grace Albinus long that rained heere Made verses in his youth And in his age as doth appeere With verse auancst the truth Among the sauage Indians still Who knowes no ciuill thing They honor writers of some skill Their parents liues to sing Among the anshent noble Danes And Saxsons long ago We read of many Poets names Whose woorthy wits did flo The graue wise learned men of Greece Durst neuer shew their art Till those Philosophers presumd To plaie the Poets part Some sang in verse their naturall Philosophie we finde And in sweete songs heroicall Exprest their secret minde So morall counsels vttred were In that same selfe sweete sort Thus Poets flourisht eury where As stories makes report And marshall matters in those daies Were song and set aloft So some the art of warre did raise Vnto the skies full oft Sibillas prophesies in verse Were alwaies vttred well The oracels of Delphos to In verse
life by customs ill And takes away true feare Of God and man such Poets leud Were banisht and exilde Because with foule condishons shreud Their country they defilde Good Poets were in eury age Made of and nourishâ— well They were the floures of gardens gaie That gaue the goodly smell The true forewarners of great things That after did befall The ioy of godly vertuous kings And honest subiects all Our age and former fathers daies Leaue Goore and Chauser out Hath brought foorth heere but few to praise Search all our soyle about Yet of all those that newly wrate In prose or verse of late Let Sydney weare for stile of state The garland lawreate His bookes makes many bookes to blush They shew such sence and wit Our dribbers shoots not woorth a rush When he the marke doth hit His phrase is sifted like fine floure That maketh manchet bread Sweet eury where and nothing soure That flowes from Sydneyes head Sweete dewe dropt out of Sydneyes quill As raine great moysture shoes And from his muse there did distill A liquor sweete as rose Aquintesence a spirit of wine Naie Nectar better namde A breuage for the Gods deuine Of compounds made and framde That whosoeuer drinks thereon Immortall shall be made His books he left to looke vpon When we in worldly shade Sits mumping eury houre of daie And scarce knows where we are Our braines like bucke doth stande at baie Beset about with care Of this or that when Sydneyes books Cals vp a drowping ghost For whosoeuer thereon looks With worldly troubles tost He shall finde quietnes thereby And Christian comfort great Woorth all the treasure vnder skie It climes to Ioues hie seat And sits among the Angels sweet Where psalmes and himnes are sung And all base humors vnder feeâ— Are out of fauor flung The poets that can clime the cloudes Like ship boy to the top When sharpest stormes do shake the shroudes Sets ware to sale in shop Of heauenly things that earthly men Can scarcely vnderstand Did not our Chausers golden pen That beautifide this land Reach to the sunne and highest star And toucht the heauens all A poets knowledge goes so far That it to mind can call Each wonder since this world began And what was seene in skies A poet is no common man He lookes with Argoes eies Like Linx throw steele or stonie wals No secret scapes his sight Of future time and what befals In world by day or night He sees and somtimes writes thereof When scornfull people scowle And makes of earnest words a scoffe Or cals â—aire speeches fowle Our countrie breeds vp Poets still As grasse springs from good ground For there doth flourish learned skill Where knowledge doth abound Looke what our elders wits did sowe Or left behinde in heapes Our age and haruest people mowe Or with sharpe sickle reapes The seede of sence faire fruit brings foorth In feeld a thousand fold And is in value price and woorth More preshous than the gold What can be counted foule or cleane But Poets thereon talke Yet thousands knowes not what they meane When they in cloud will walke As from the fountaine water floes Conuaid by gushing pipe So from the pen of Poet goes Fine words and sentence ripe That ech good minde may well digest As sweete as honie sure His termes are taken with the best If verse be neate and pure As riders whisking wand doth feare The horse whereon he sits So wrangling people eurie where At verses vex their wits If any writer touch the gall In pastime be it sed Then downe coms tressels house and all Vpon the poore mans head Yet wise men will good words embrace And take each thing in worth And giue each word and line a grace That poets do set forth Diuine du Bartas merits 〈◊〉 Most excellent verse he wrate So sundrie writers in our daies Haue done full well of late In Spensers morall fairie Queene And Daniels rosie mound If they be throwly waid and seen Much matter may be found One Barnes that Petrarks scholler is May march with them in ranke A learned Templers name I mis Whose pen deserues great thanke A number more writs well indeed They spring vp newly now As gazing world their works shall reed So shall world praise them throw But sure my noble Sidneies skill I neuer can forget To him my seruice and good will Shall euer dwell in deâ— Of learned lore the onely light Which blazde like lampe most cleere And as a star in moone shine night Could vnder cloud appeer Seemd dim and darke to dazled eies But faire and bright to those That vnderstood the stately gise Of learned verse or prose Could crack the nut of â—aâ—â—hell And shew the kernell plaine For by his works who notes them well In world he liues againe The booke that doth of poets treat In golden robes so shines It triumphes still with honor great Among the best diuines Which booke deckt vp in trim attire Of authors wise and graue In matters of mine owne desire Great light to poetrie gaue And made me write of poets praise Thus so to starrie skie My Sidneies honor heere I raise As far as fame can flie FINIS My next Booke comes out shortlie dedicated to my Honorable woorthy friende Master HENRIE BROOKE sonne and heire to the noble Lord COBHAM A well disposed minde cals many good things to memorie Good men haue many sweet imaginations Blinde world is fraught with fond desires The poore estate of people is to be pitied The wealth hardly won is easilie left Graceles time runs on rowling wheeles Christian loue lookes to euerie thing Zeale is the glas that shewes the spots of face Abuse runs ouer the brim Full paunch eats vp all Faire wordâ— make fooles faine Deceit deceaues militous of men Wealths thirst drinks riuers dry A sauing world spares nothing to the poore Prisoners perish for want of comfort Many silly soules goes a hungrie to bed Full purse follows many pleasures The purchesars plucks all from the poore Craftie 〈◊〉 can play bopeep Cunning raiseth the price of euery thing Vittles made deere seldome comes downe againe Wicked wolues deuoures the lambs A diuelish dearth destroies thousands The loue of wealth forgets all goodnes Hard hands will part from nothing Foolish world thinks but our present time Many yeers and maners alters the kinde of man A golden age is turnd to copper and brasse Words is the worst ware that euer was sold. Wealth weighs downe euery thing Words are waues tossed with wind Marcheuill is now made an English man Want of charitie hath made me loose my pattent The milner will be sure of his toule A fine fisher would catch all himselfe Good turnes are turnd to faire holy water The father will scarse speake for his sonne The soldier consumes himselfe with griefe A lip wise
And in sweete sound true musicke is exprest O charitie helpe or else adue the pen For I must march againe with marshall men FINIS To the generall Readers IF ought amisse you finde good Reader heere His fault it is that sings ne sweete nor loud When he caught cold and voice could not be cleere Because ech note is cloked vnder cloud He craâ—d no helpe nor stole from no mans song One peece nor part of musicke any waie Ne sembreeffe breefe nor yet ne larke nor long For he hath skill in deskant some men saie And on the base can make three parts in one And set new songs when all the old are gone Though some beleeue but hardly that he makes These things or that which seemes far past his reach Tush though old head and hand with paulsie shakes Let no ill will plaine writers pen appeach If you do loue no wrong giue ech man right Rob not the iust of any praise well won Way not mens worth with waights in ballance light For truth is truth when all is saide and don You may as well say white and red is blacke And Sun and Moone are steele and marble stone As say or thinke behinde a writers backe He borrowed that which he claimes as his owne O giue men leaue to father their owne childe Let it be foule or faire as babies are A stubborne boye a cracke-rope tame or wilde Begot in haste and brought vp poore and bare How ere they be blinde lame or shapt awrie Vglie to sight bigge boulchoâ—s lowe or â—ie Those yoonglings all the Dadâ—an not denie Are his that sent those babes abroad to nurse Like orphants weake that knowes not what to do With blessings great and not with parents curse That shortens life and gets Gods anger to Children were woont to beare their fathers name Not one durst say in earnest iest or skorne To hinder childe of spotlesse birth and fame A lawfull sonne was but a bastard borne Both beast and bird their yoong ones do defend So shall my Muse maintaine that I haue pend Then bring Shores wife in question now no more I set hir foorth in colours as she goes Sir Rafe Bowser a worshipfull knight witnesseth where and when I penned that And as she went like gallant lasse before So other gyrls as gaie and fresh as rose With verse haue I set foorth in sundrie sorts As braue as she what ere disdaine reports That humor now declines for age drawes on The full tide is of fine inuention gon Ebbe followes floud when vitall vaines waxe dead Wit weares and wastes as torch consumes with winde When water turnes drie growes a flowing head In age ech thing decaies by course of kinde Yet whiles the oyle in lampe may make a blaze Or candell in the socket shewes a light On sparkling flame the cleerest eies will gaze And comfort finde thereby in darkest night I yeeld to time that like a sithe cuts cleane All that doth grâ—w in spring or fall of leafe And wish in world my treble were a meane That I might sinâ— to eares that are not deafe A note should sinke as deepe in iugging brest As euer yet â—n sea did ancker rest Songs are but likt as fancies giues them leaue Both well and 〈◊〉 as sounds of trumpets are Though Syrens voice the hearers doth deceaue Mine hath no charme but open plaine and bare As I was borne so speake I English still To lose my paines and win the worlds good will No losse so much as credit crackt with pen Nor gaine so great as loue of honest men Fare you well The Author to his booke GO now plaine booke where thou maist welcom find Walke throw the world till frinds do thee embrace Let foes alone obay thy masters mind For fear nor threat hide not a fautlesse face Win courts goodwill the countries loue is gaind With wise men stay from froward wits beware At plow and cart plaine speech is not disdaind Sit downe with those that feeds on hungrie fare For they haue time to note what thou dost saie Let gallants go they will but giue a gibe Or take thee vp and fling thee straight awaie Touch not smooth hands that vse to take a bribe They better like full bags than busie bookes Shun from the sight of glorious peacocks proud Their onlie pomp stands all on statelie lookes They glowm and skoull as t weare a raynie cloud Giue babling toongs good leaue to taunt and talke Their taste is gone they oft take chese for chalke Bid scornfull heads let true-plainâ— lines alone That harmles are and came from lowlie hart Passe not in haste to people strange vnknowne Least iudgment swift do take on thee the start And run beyond thy reach full many a skore Go slowlie foorth with thanks come quickly 〈◊〉 Bring no rebuke for that nips near and sore T were better far abroad thou shouldst not roâ—â— Though thou be blind yet those that well can see If thou offend will find great fault with mee Behaue thy selfe as mildly as thou maist Lâ—ke messenger that doth his arnd aright Thy master must affirme each thing thou saist The darkest word at length must come to light Like pilgrim go and passe throw perils all Take well in worth what hap doth thee befall Returne no more to me till newes thou bring Of praise or thankes or of some better thing If none of these this waiward world will yeeld Trudge from fine towne fliâ— to the open feild Where thou must passe through thickets full of thorns Where pricking briers and croked brambles grose And neuer none sâ—apt free from scâ—â—th or scornes Or scratted hands or tearing of his close Where eluish apâ—s and marmsets mockes and mose And thistles are seen sooner than a rose Yea thou shalt come where nettles are good store Whose angrie sting will blisters raise apace Slip from those weedes and come near them no more For fear vnwares good words do get disgrace The goodlie floures of court thou needs not feare For they are sweete and meeke of nature throw There wisedome will with writers humor beare If humbly stil thou canst behaue thee now Thy masters pen hath purchast fauour there Among the Dames of faire Dianas traine Where beautie shines like siluer drops of raine In sunnie day O booke thou happy art If with those Nimphes thou maist be entertaind If any one of them take in good part A verse or word thou hast a garland gaind Of glorie great for fame hir selfe must sound Out of their voice looke what they do pronounce Like tennis ball aloft it doth rebound And yeelds great weight but not by dram nor ounce But heauie as a massie pound of lead They wey mens worth with praises quicke or dead Yea what they say of Poets fond or wise Of prose or verse that ripe inuenshoâ— shoes As twâ—re a lawe the fame thereof shall rise And through the world like coin it currant goes From hand to hand and so doth
parts men plaie much like old plain bopeepe Or counterfait in dock out-nettle still And for their game there is such hold and keepe That nothing can escape their reaching skill Much haue yee won when got is their good will T is lost againe for one small graine of gold Their charitie is growne so extreme cold They raise the price of euery thing is bought On tenter hookes their ware is stretched out Seekes all the waies for wealth that may be sought As for the winde a ship is swaid about And at a trice they turne the water spout So from our purse both pence and pounds they draw By hooke or crooke by wrest or reach of law The rate of things rackt vp doth fall no more Colde conshence takes all-fish that coms to net To make corne deere they hoord much graine in store So they may win some care not how they get For eu'ry bird they do such lime-twigs set That no bird scapes if it be slidge to flie Except foresight the suddaine danger spie No rain nor curb nor bridle holds them in No lawe nor rule nor order will they keepe Sets all abroch to feede and nourish sin And plaies the wolues with lambs when yonglings sleep Makes old folks whine and babes in cradle weepe And makes the rate of eu'ry thing so scant That some cries out that neuer thought of want A diuelish dearth is come from darke hell gate To kill cold harts as hands can crush a crab That blow fals not vpon the proud mans pate But giues the meeke and mildest minde the stab Now tell I all the secrets like a blab As good to shew a sore whiles wound is greene As let men starue before the greefe be seene The loue of wealth forgets both God and man And who growes rich sets little by renowne To catch and hold the world doth what it can With endles care in court in field and towne Craft keepeth vp plaine honestie fals downe Charitie is dead and goodnes growes full sicke Wisedome doth drowp and follie is too quicke Wealth like a worme eats vp sweete kernels all As cankers rust runs into iron and steele Hard closed hands that will let nothing fall Wants eares to heare yet fingers hath to feele Well all is right when world runs like a wheele Round as a top that scourging can abide Swims vp and downe and followes time and tide On present time and muck mans mind is bent On world to come no care nor eie they cast What coms with ease is often rashlie spent And what doth hap in hands we hold full fast As though our pomp and pride should alwaies last Yea thinking all is ours that we can scrape And still for more do greedie gluttons gape The many yeers and winters past and gone Hath changde the kind of grace and goodnes quite Our bodies beares in flesh a hart of stone That ioined is with faintie liuer white Which neuer breeds in breast one good delite Our noughtie minds may be the cause of this That hath transformd all Adams babes amisse The golden age of our forefathers wise Is copper now or worse than any brasse We quickly can clap on a new found gife And weare a maske seeme shadow in a glasse But bring no worke nor great good thing to passe Make shew of much as art sets tristes forth That proues a puffe in substance little worth Words are the ware that each man sets to sale With phrases fine bedeckt to blinde poore sight Faire promise first steps forth and tels a tale Of bad deuice that weies in ballance light For at your need performance taketh flight And leaues in lake the foole that words hath won Who paies great paines for shadowes in the sun Wit did prefer good people well of yore Welth now with weights doth wey the ballance down Words and fine talke leads world the dance before But neither wealth nor words wins true renown For when the trumpe doth giue vncertaine sown Men will not then prepare them for the fight But rather seeke to saue themselues by flight Words are the waues that welters on the seas And works a froth in colour white as snoe Makes thousands sicke and breedes a cold disease To those that with such swelling surges goe Inconstant words with tide will ebbe and floe But fruitfull deeds stands firme and fast as rocke That bides the brunt of eurie blast and shocke Fine Macheuill is now from Florence flown To England where his welcome is too great His busie books are heere so red and known That charitie thereby hath lost her heat Poore prisners doe in Ludgate die for meat Who doth for det in danger long remaine Must fall down flat and seldom rise againe Wit takes his toll as milner at the mill Powlseakes the bags of meale as he doth please Thrusts thousands backe till tricksie tanker fill Like prentise fine that faine would take some ease In deed there is no fishing to the seas But what is caught in conshence should be sold In market place that men might credit hold No charitie is found when fisher feeds On all himselfe and giues his fellowes none Alas poore soules we angle in the reeds And catch a frog when all the fish is gone Bullhead and loch lies vnder little stone But stones and sticks will breake our nets I dout Before we bring a dish of gudgins out The great good turnes in court that thousands felt Is turnd to cleer faire holie water there The scraps are small that hungrie hands haue delt Spoile cannot spare the paring of a peaâ—e For snatch crust robs almes baskets eury where The poore so starues or knowes not what to do And so I feare shall sillie suters to The father scarse will speake for his owne son World waxeth mute when men should do some good The streame is stopt where water ought to run We cast our nets where fish creepes in the mud And clime those trees where bowes will neuer bud We take great paine yet no good fruit enioies For words are wind and fils our eares with noies The soldier sits and sighes to shake off greefe Whose wounds in war of right claimes great reward Waits hard at heele but findeth small releefe Who least deserues is alwaies most prefard Who brags and boasts blind world doth best regard But some that lost their blood in countries right May kisse the post and bid vs all good night What charitie is that iudge you that can Who sees these things so far past all redresse When lip-wise world sets little by a man What may fall out of that a foole may gesse Each one shall haue his lot yea more or lesse But charitie and fortune differ far Between them two we find a mortall war The one helps all and loues a number still The other hurts or else prefers a few And wise men find
would woonders tell In pollicies wise Solon plaid The Poet sundrie waies Good things were better soong than said Which gaind immortall praise Plato tooke Solons works in hand And plaid the Poet right And set that Atlantike Iland Full plaine before our sight The Booke of Herodotus bore A famous title fine Yea such as none did giue before Of all the muses nine Dominician was a Poet rare And did therein excell So many princes now there are That loueth Poetrie well Three conquerours of mightie powre Gaue Poets such a grace That they would neuer frowne not lowre On them in any case As Plutarke saith a tyrant wept A tragedie to heare Who sawe his murthring minde thereby As in a glas full cleere Amid a great reuolt in Rome A woorthie Poet stood And told of bodie and the minde A tale that did much good Two Poets turnd a tyrants hart From rigour vnto ruth And wrought him with their wits and art To fauour right and truth Nathan did faine a tale indeed To Dauid when he fell Whereon the king tooke such great heed He saw his follie well In Dauids Psalms true miter floes And songs of Sallomon Where great delite and pleasure groes Are woorthie looking on A dialogue that Plato made Giues Poets great renowne Brings ech rare wit to sun from shade To weare the laurell crowne True stories old with new delite Shall fill your harts and â—ares For they of Poets praises write Their books good witnes beares If aunshent authors and great kings No credit gets herein Darke-sight sees not no stately things That doth great glory win Plucke vp cleere iudgement from the pit Of poore espreet and sence And wipe the slime from slubbred wit And looke on this defence That Sydney makes a matchles worke A matter fresh and new That did long while in silence lurke And seldome came to view He cals them Poets that embrace True vertue in hir kinde And do not run with rimes at bace With wanton blotted minde All idle verse he counts but vaine Like cracks of thorns in fire Or summer showrs of sleete or raine That turns drie dust to mire These rurall rymes are but the scum And froth that flies from seas Or doth from some sharpe humor come That breeds a new disease In braine that beats about the skull And so brings foorth a toye When musse or moone is at the full Of paines or pleasing ioye Like long wingd hauke doth Poet fore Ore mountaine or hie trees And loud as cannon can he rore At ech vice that he sees His scope as hie as reasons reach May clime in order due Not to giue counsell nor to teach But to write fancies new Of this or that as matter moones A well disposed minde That vice doth hate and vertue loues And he good cause doth finde So ruling pen as duties bounds Be kept in eury part For when the Poet trumpet sounds It must be done by art As though a sweete consort should plaie On instruments most fine And shew their musicke eury waie With daintie notes diuine Ech string in tune as concord were The guide of all the glee Whose harmonie must please the eare With musicke franke and free The Poets Lyra must be strung With wire of siluer sound That all his verses may be sung With maidens in a round So chaste and harmles should they be As words from preachers voice With spiced speech in ech degree Wherein good men reioice Not farsed full of sollies light That beares ne poies nor weight But flying cleere in aire like flight Whose force mounts vp an height And seems to pearce the cloudie skies Such poets Sidney likes Whose gentle wind makes dust arise As hie as morice pikes That lifts aloft the soldiers hart Who doth aduance the same And bends his bodie in ech part Thereby to purchase fame The sword and lance of marshall men Their Lions courage showes The poets with their wit and pen Tels where their furie flowes They both are knowne as soone as seene As things of great import The one may verie far ore weene The other in some sort Stands on his honor sundrie waies And offreth life therefore The poet seekes no more but praise As poets did of yore Whose words strooke dead the stoutest groomes That euer were in place And sweeped cleane like new made broomes The foulest cause or case As water washeth ech thing white And sope might scoure with all The canker of foule worlds delite More sharpe than bitter gall So poets with plaine terms makes cleane The soulest conshence liues And by good words from vice doth weane Through councell that it giues The childest wit and churlisht mind Lo then how poets may Both alter maners and bad kind To frame a better way Of heauens and the highest throne Where God himselfe doth sit Good poets still should treat alone To showe â—heir flowing wit As by their muse they caried were Beyond our sight or vew Into a fine and purer aire Or speshall climat new Where all things are as cleane as gold From furnace to the stamp So poets should this world behold And shine as cleer as lamp That light doth giue to eury eie Which doth in darknes dwell And glorie show of heauens hie To damned spreets of hell Which darknes in a dungeon keeps From sight of vertues lore Where ignorance in slumber sleeps Like dunse for euermore Sir Philip Sydney praiseth those Whose waking wits doth see The depth and ground of verse or prose And speakes with iudgement free Of all the matters vnder sun Both secrets hie and lowe And ouer them with pen can run As far as skill can goe Sift eurie word and sentence well And cast away the bran To show the kernell crack the shell In peeces now and than That eurie one shall taste the nut Or see where worme hath fed And shoot an arrowe at the but And drawe it to the head Like archer that can hit the white And win the wager straight With cunning knowledge and delite And suttle sence and slaight Which looks into the world so round And searcheth eury place To see what may be easlie found Or spoke of ech mans case To rime and roue in retchles sort He counted reuell rash As whip doth make a horse to snort When carter giues a lash So ballet makers doth with wind Stir vp a hiue of bees And of the abundance of vaine mind With words in aire he flees As though it were a thunder crack That neuer brings foorth raine But dailie threatens rune and wrack With ratling rumors vaine Vaine commedies that stirs vp vice He did condemne and hate He holds that babble of no price That doth infect a state Corrupts with words good maners still Offends both eie and eare Brings in loose