is but his minde A discourse of the true steps of manhood A discourse of the honor of a Souldior A discours of an olde Souldier and a yong A discourse and commeÌ„dation of those that can make Golde A discourse and rebuke to rebellious mindes A discourse of hospitalitie and consuming of time and wealth in London A discourse of misfortune and calamitie A discourse of law and worthy Lawyers A discourse of the only Phenix of the worlde A praise of that Phenix and verses translated out of French The tragedy of Shores wife much augmented A discourse of the ioy good subiects haue when they see our Phenix abroad The tragicall discourse of the haplesse mans life The adue the writer made long agoe to the worlde A discourse of a fantasticall Dreame A tragicall discourse of a dolorous Gentlewoman A tragicall discourse of a Lord and a Lady translated out of French I hope you look not that I should place euery Knight Lady in their degree for I must of necessitie follow my matter The bookes that I can call to memorie alreadie Printed are these that followes FIrst in King Edwards daies a book named Dauie Dicars dreame which one Camell wrote against whome I openly confuted Shores wise I penned at that season Another booke in those daies called the Mirror of Man In Queene Maries raigne a book called a new-New-yeares gift to all England which booke treated of rebellion And many things in the booke of songs and Sonets printed then were of my making Since that time till this day I wrote all these workes The booke of Chips dedicated to sir Christopher Hatton after Lord Chancellor The booke called Chance dedicated to sir Thomas Bromley L. Chancellor then The booke called my Charge to my L. of Surrye The booke called my Change in verse and proes dedicated to all good mindes The booke called my Choice dedicated to the L. Chancellor sir Christopher Hatton The book of the siege of Leeth and Edenbrough Castell The booke of sir William Druries seruice dedicated to sir Drue Drury The booke called the golden Nut dedicated to the Qu. Ma. The book of receiuing her highnes into Suffolk Norfolke The booke before of her highnes receiuing into Bristow The booke of the Earthquake to the good Deane of Paules The book of the troubles of Flanders to sir Francis Walsing The book called the scourge of rebels in Ireland to my Lord Admirall The booke called a rebuke to Rebellion to the good olde Earle of Bedford The book of a Sparke of freendship to sir Walter Rawley The book of Sorrows to D. Wilson when he was Secretary The booke of the winning of Macklin to my Lord Norrice The book called the Worthines of Wales to the Qu. Ma. The book giuen her Maiestie at Bristow where I made al the whole deuises The deuises of warre and a play at Awsterley her highnes being at sir Thomas Greshams The Commedy before her Maiestie at Norwich in the fielde when she went to dinner to my Lady Gerningâ—ms The whole deuises pastimes and plaies at Norwich before her maiestie The deuises and speeches that men and boyes shewed within many prograces The book of King Henries Epitaph and other princes and Lords to Secretary Wolley The book of my Deer adue to M. Iohn Stannop The book called a handfull of gladsome verses to the Qu. M. at Wodstocke The book called a pleasant coâ—ceite a new yeeres gift to the Queenes Maiestie These workes following are gotten from me of some such noble freends as I am loath to offend Aeneas tale to Dydo largely and truely translated out of Virgill which I once shewed the Qu. Ma. and had it againe A book of the oath of a Iudge and the honor of Law deliuered to a Stacioner who sent it the L. cheefe Baron that last dyed A book of a sumptuous shew in Shrouetide by sir Walter Rawley sir Robart Carey M. Chidly and M. Arthur Gorge in which book was the whole seruice of my L. of Lester mencioned that he and his traine did in Flaunders and the gentlemen Pencioners proued to be a great peece of honor to the Court all which book was in as good verse as euer I made an honorable knight dwelling in the black Friers can witnes the same because I read it vnto him A great peece of work translated out of the great learned French Poet Seignior Dubartas which worke treated of a Lady and an Eagle most diuinely written on by Dubartas and giuen by me to a great Lord of this land who saith it is lost An infinite number of other Songes and Sonets giuen where they cannot be recouered nor purchase any fauour when they are craued A new kinde of a Sonnet IN writing long and reading works of warre That Homer wrote and Virgils verse did show My muse me led in ouerweening farre When to their Stiles my pen presumde to goe Ouid himselfe durst not haue vaunted so Nor Petrarke graue with Homer would compare Dawnt durst not think his sence so hye did flow As Virgils works that yet much honord are Thus each man sawe his iudgement hye or low And would not striue or seeke to make a iarre Or wrastle where they haue an ouerthrow So I that finde the weakenes of my bow Will shoot no shaft beyond my length I troe For reason learnes and wisdome makes me know Whose strength is best and who doth make or marre A little Lamp may not compare with Starre A feeble head where no great gifts doo grow Yeelds vnto skill whose knowledge makes smal shew Then gentle world I sweetly thee beseech Call Spenser now the spirit of learned speech Churchyards good will THE EARLE OF MVRTONS Tragedie once Regent of Scotland and alwaies of great birth great wisedome great wealth and verie great power and credite yet Fortune enuying his estate and noblenes brought him to lose his head on a Skaffold in Edenbrough the second of Iune 1581. MAke place for plaints giue rowme for plagued men Step backe proud mindes that praise your selues too much Let me appeale to some true writers pen That doth the life and death of Princes touch For my miâ—hap and fatall fall is such That gazing world which heares my woefull end Shall maruaile much to see such matter pend The restles race that mortall men doe runne Seemes smooth to sight yet full of scratting breers Here is no rest nor surety vnder Sunne Sowre is the taste of flowers that sweete appeares Our gentle ioyes are in our tender yeares For as the Childe to wit and reason growes So iudgement comes and seedes of sorrow sowes Our wanton time doth steale away with sport But when that care hath crept in curious braines Long griefe beginnes and pleasure is but short For heart and head is vert with fancies vaine Then hord brings hate and gold breeds greedy gaine Desire of which with pompe and glory great So boiles in brest it makes mans browes to sweat Ambitious minde the busie
when some of them flue away I say not with my fethers and sat on the top of their aduancements gazing on the basenesse of my fortune which strange accidente ministred by the mutability of time makes me chuse faster friends whose noble disposition breeds greater regard whose constancies will longer continue and whose frendships bringes forth better fruite So good sir Iohn knowing your good inclination towardes the best sorte of men and faitfullnesse towardes your country and friendes I being tyed by good turns to remember you haue deuised a discourse I hope delightfull for your reading because in your sundry trauells beyonde the seas besides your good exercises at home you haue heard of many excellent men and artes of diuers natures and qualitie The worke I present you is a commendation of them that can or hath made gold if any such bee or hath bin the art wherof I haue not only commended but in some part touched as far as my simple capacitie can reach vnto touching setting downe in verse with comly termes some sufficient cause how by transmutation of mettals many men haue aduentured the making of gold Thus crauing the worlds goodwill and your fauour for the setting forth this bold discourse I passe to the matter wish you much worship wordly felicitie and heauenlie blessednesse Thomas Churchyard A Commendation to them that can make gold shewing that many heretofore hath found out the Philosophers stone WHat wordes of worth or â—â—led phrase of men May serue my turne to shew rare gifts of grace What percing speech what toong or flowing pen Is fiâ— to blase the valour of this case My wits are weake my sense and skill to base To talke or treate on thinges of such great weight That séemes so dâ—epe and reacheth such a height With Uirgills verse and Homers haughtie style In golden lines should knowledge glorie shine Would God one man were borne in this our Ile Could catch from cloudes great arts and grace diuine As he were taught of all the muâ—es nine To knowe the course of stars and stately skies And howe deepe seas and floudes doe fall and rise If mortall man may robbe the gods of skill And rule the son the moone and planets all And easly climbe the heauens when he will Or make the spirites belowe obey his call Or clap the earth into a compasse small Knowledge is he nay rather better seed A sacred power hath knowledge in his head That from the Lord of life and glory came No earthly gifte nor worldly wicked knacke For world is vaine most certaine sure I am And all foule artes makes worlolings liue in lacke The cleanest mindes are frée from ruine and wracke For vertue raignes and rules this wretched mould And drawes from drosse huge heapes of massie gold They neuer thriue that workes with hagges of hell Bare liues they lewd bare robes and wéedes they weare They seldome want that in ioyes doying well Great store of fruit a happie trée doth beare A blasted branch but withers euery where A vertuous man whose hart to grace aspires Findes good successe of all his whole desires Great studies gaines great grace and wisdome too Great wisdome lookes into Gods sacred throne And fewe doe knowe what speciall grace can doe Such secrets great doth rest in God alone And God giues man the Philosophers stone Then who hath that hath all that can be gote And needes not care for all the world a grote Some say that knowes how god is pleased best Good life helpes much to make men blessed héere If that be true God doth bad life detest where are we then where shall soule life appéere Who hath faire face who shewes a conscience cléere Such as can purge themselues with praiers still Gets greatest grace and gaineth greatest skil Good arts are armes to all our bodies throwe By force to worke by strength to strike all parts To make stife stones or steele to bend or bowe As nothing could escape the reach of arts Schollers in scholes and merchantes in their marâ—â— Can ply their thrift so they that maketh gold By giftes of grace haue cunning treble fold To catch the heate of son or fire by light And melt and myxe the mettals as they are And put by art compounds together streight As all should yeeld to fine inuention rare When science leaues all hidden secretes bare No mastry then to worke on waxe newe wrought A picture plaine to answere workmans thought Most néerest God the cleanest hartes doe goe They cast of flesh and Angels nature take And than throwe faith they may moue mountaines so Gold by that meanes a mortall man may make God doth great things for his great glories sake That world shall sée some vessels God hath chose To whome he doth his hidden giftes disclose vii of Wisdome The wise king said he saw how world was made How things began and how they end againe How fruits and flowers doe flourish and doe fade How vertues rare in herbes and roots remaine How out of stones comes dewe like drops of raine And how dry dust and earth that seemes nought worth Hides gold in hord yet brings great treasure forth He saw what grace and knowledge could discerne What wisdomes eies could sée in darkest night What God himselfe to his electe did learne What man might doe by Gods cleere lampe of light What might be knowne by simple sacred sight And what poore men by plainenesse might attaine And what fruit comes by trauell toile and paine To gather flowers and wéedes where ere they growe And take vp fruit from tops of trées that fall And mixe these things with flouds that ebbe and floe And at a becke to change their natures all Is art at will and knowledge we it call But to digge out from drosse the gold most fine Is secret skill and speciall power deuine To make fine glasse and giue it forme and shape Was sure an art that fewe at first did knowe A painter made quicke birds to picke the grape That pensell had most finely painted so In dome dead things life hath bin breathd you knowe Who reades shall sée great knowledge vnder son That was with men by grace and vertue won Mercurius Tres migistus king of the Egiptianes A king there was of yâ—er that Hermies hight Who fiâ—st found out the cause how gold was made Some at his torch did there dime candells light That earst did walke for want of Son in shade Since that in seas full many wits did wade To sound and sée how farre weake feete might goe And some did find the depth thereof I troe Gâ—bar a king likewise of great estate A volume large of this great art did write Throw studie long Gebar such knowledge gat That in his books great princes did delight Great thinges of him great actors doe resyte Greater then he some say was neuer none For he did teach how men should make the stone In a vision much matter may you read
king and lord whose minde they troubled sore And vext thereby his friends and fauourers all They fill in lash they felt the bloudy braule They lâ—st their goodes they got a great disgrace They fled from Court they were pursued in chace They were full â—aine for none offence or cause At open barre to pleade their case by lawes Such are the happes of those that hould with right Such cureles wounds they haue that sores would heale Such hate they heape in hucksters hands that light Such harmes they find that stands with common weale And such know not to whome they would appeale When wrong will rule and reuell fals to spoyle The faythfull flocke are forst to féele the foyle Dread driues desarts that dayly well haue done To slie from foes or else through fire to runne Because the Lords who lookt to leade the daunce Saw other step on stage ere they could rise By plaine fine force they would themselues aduaunce And for that feate this drift they did deuise Desire of fame doth so abuse the wise They end like fooles that erst beganne so well And soonest smart that ringes the larum bell For whéeles and all fals downe about their eares From rotten frames who first stood voide of feares But we who were besiegd by fortune so Betrayd I meane if troth may tell the tale Were scourgde plagude faine to fawne on Foe And sue to such as set our liues to sale Wée were shut vp they had the bouncing gale That blew their barke beyonde our compasse cleane With sailes asâ—aunt and had no merrie meane They clapt on all and went through streame flud When true mens feete stood fast in mire and mud I was the man that most of mischiefe had I was accusde and calde to count in haste I founde most cause to sigh and sit full sad I was layde vp and thereby cleane disgracste Myne en'mies sayd I did the treasure waste And held in hand the souldiers money too I was so nipt I knew not what to do My friends wext fainte or ferd the like mischaunce But I was he must leade the dolefull daunce A mitred head a Bishop bolde and braue Sayd I conuayde away Sainct Thomas shryne And that I ment the king of Beame should haue The same from me by priuie practise fine To hoyste me vp he layd both booke and line And so by friends he framde so flat a feate That I was cald to straight accompt in heate For this and more a libell long and large Of forged faultes that he layd to my charge No Clarke might come to make my reckning right No tale could serue to show my matter throw No deepe discourse could bring the troth to light No man of law could canuas cases now Strong hand did all I must both bend and bow The king knew not of halfe the wrongs I felt Nor none could find how finely cardes were dealt A packe was made and one had got the ace And trimely robd the trumps before my face No boote to bid the Players deale againe The game was won and I had lost the stake These Foysters fine could nick both by and mayne And cog out right when they the Dice did shake And of sweete spoyle a bitter banquet make They calde me in and I the only Gheaste Was bidden then vnto that bloodie feaste I was compeld to taste what dishe they wolde And in great heate to drinke vp Poyson colde I meane my fate and fortune was so harde I could not scape their hands that sought my life Who wreakt their wrath on me without regard Yet long in sheath they kept the murthering Knife For on my hap at first rose all this strife And on the freindes that I by hap had wonne This end I had and mischiefe was begonne For taking part with such as likt me well To ground full flat from top of trée I fell UUhen in the tower my Foes had clapt mée fast Few friends I found the world beganne to winke And so at length in Rerage was I cast And Poaste alone was left to swimme or sincke And iudgement was as I was forste to thinke That I should pay two hundreth thousand Frankes For all my toyle loe héere is all my thankes I did possesse my charges and my losse And paynes abroad came home by wéeping crosse And wanting wealth to pay this heauy summe With Billes and â—layues from prison was I led And so vnto the Tower-hill did I come To suffer death where soone I lost my head The King knew naught of this till I was dead Loe people héere how things about were brought And what disdaine and mighty malice wrought Loe héere is ende and sodayne sliding downe That was both true to God and to the Crowne As little twigs ore top of houses grow Whose braunches big spredes out a mighty trée Or as small brookes with Seas do swell and flow Yet hath no power to passe their bounds you sée Or as faire flowers that in gaie gardens bée Sprouts out a while and when they are at height They fade and fall then declineth streight So man doth mount a while on stages hie And at the best shootes downe like starre from skie When thinges are growen as farre as course is set And haue attaynde the fulnesse of their state They backward come and can no further get For cleane expierd yee see is then their date The life wée beare of force must yeeld to fate The steppes wée tread weares out by tract of time When ladder breakes wée can no higher clune Where fortune sits so fast doth grinde the mill The Wheele turnes round and neuer standeth still Long is the toyle or man to triumph commes Large is the plot where wée our Pagantes play Swéete is the saâ— and sowre are all the Plummes That payne pluckes off the pleasaunt planted spray Short is the time of all our glory gay Uayne is the hope of hazards héere in earth Great are the griefes of life from day of birth No surety growes of all is heere possest All comes to naught when people feareth least Loe what it is to stand on tickle staies Where hatred heaues the houshoulde out of square And when it falls the ioynts flee seuerall wayes And ioyfull wightes are clad with woe and care The seruants howle the wife and childe is bare The friends wring hands the foes do laugh and flyre Such chaunges chaunce to those that do aspyre The ground but gapes who first shall fall therein And who séekes most at length the least may win Loe Churchyard now my mirthlesse tale is tolde A mourning verse prepare thou straight for mée And in thy râ—â—e some stately order holde For that I sprong not out of base degrée Let euery line a liuely sentence bée To wake the wits of such as world would knowe And list to maâ—ke how wordly matters goe And when thou comst to touch the gauled backe Leape ore the horse or vse a riders
Of this rich art that thousands hold full déere Remundus too that long liud héere indéede Wrate sundry workes as well doth yet appeare Of stone for gold and shewed plaine and cleere A stone for health Arnolde wrate of the same And many more that were too long to name But Ryppley may not scape my pen as yet Nor Norâ—ons bookes that are in written hand Two famous clarkes of ripe and ready wit Meere Englishmen borne both with in this land In the records of towre their workes doe stand Let this suffice how ere the matter séemd Among the wise this art was much estéemd Heere follovves the Tragedie of Shores VVife much augmented with diuers newe aditions To the right honorable the Lady Mount Eagle and Compton wife to the right honourable the Lord of Buckhursts son and heire GOod madame for that the vertuous and good Ladie Carie your sister honourablie accepted a discourse of my penning I beleeued your Ladiship would not refuse the like offer humbly presented and dutifully ment I bethoght mee of a Tragedie that long laye printed and many speake well of but some doubting the shallownesse of my heade or of meere mallice disdaineth my doeings denies mee the fathering of such a worke that hath won so much credit but as sure as god liues they that so defames me or doth disable me in this cause doth me such an open wrong as I would be glad to right with the best blood in my body so he be mine equall that moued such a quarrell but mine old yeares doth vtterly forbid me such a combat and to contend with the malicious I thinke it a madnesse yet I protest before God and the world the penning of Shores wife was mine desiring in my hart that all the plagues in the worlde maie possesse me if anie holpe me either with scrowle or councell to the publishing of the inuencion of the same Shores wife and to show that yet my spirits faile me not in as great matters as that I haue augmented her Tragedie I hope in as fine a forme as the first impression thereof and hath sette forth some more Tragedies and Tragicall discourses no whit inferiour as I trust to my first worke and good Madame because Rosimond is so excellently sette forth the actor whereof I honour I haue somewhat beautified my Shores wife not in any kind of emulation but to make the world knowe my deuice in age is as ripe reddie as my disposition and knowledge was in youth so hauing chosen a noble personage to be a patrones to support poore Shores wifes Tragedie againe I commend all the verses of her olde and newe to your good Ladiships iudgement hoping you shall lose no honour â—n the supportation of the same because the true writer thereof with all humblenesse of mind and seruice presents the Tragedie vnto your honourable censure wishing long life and encrease of vertues fame to make your Ladiships daies happie T. Churchyard Heere followes the Tragedie of Shores wife much augmented with diuers new aditions AMong the rest by fortune ouerthrowne I am not least that most may waile her fate My fame and brute abroade the world is blowne Who can forget a thing thus done so late My great mischance my fall and heauy state Is such a marke whereat each tongue doth shoote That my good name is pluckt vp by the roote This wandring world bewitched me with wiles And won my wits with wanton sugred ioyes In Fortunes freakes who trusts her when she smiles Shall find her false and full of fickle toyes Her triumphs all but fills our eares with noyse Her flattering giftes are pleasures mixt with paine Yea and all her words are thunders threatning raine The fond desire that we in glorie set Doth thirle our hearts to hope in slipper hap A blast of pompe is all the fruitâ— we get And vnder that lies hid a sodaine clap In féeking rest vnwares we fall in trap In groping flowres with nettels stung we are In labring â—ong we reape the crop of care Oh darke deceite with painted face for sho Oh poysned baite that makes vs eager still Oh fained friend deceiuing people so Oh world of thée we cannot speake too ill Yet fooles we are that bend so to thy skill The plague and scourge that thousands daily féele Should warne the wyse to shun thy whirling whéele But who can stop the streame that runnes full swift Or quench the fire that crept is in the straw The thirsty drinkes there is no other shift Perforce is such that néede obayes no lawe Thus bounde we are in worldly yokes to drawe And cannot stay nor turne againe in time Nor learne of those that sought too high to clime My selfe for proofe loe here I nowe appeare In womans weede with wéeping watred eyes That bought her youth and her delights full deare Whose lewd reproch doth sound vnto the skies And bids my corse out of the ground to rise As one that may no longer hide her face But néedes must come and shewe her piteous case The shéete of shame wherein I shrowded was Did moue me oft to plaine before this day And in mine eares did ring the trompe of brasse Which is defame that doth each thing bewray Yea though full dead and lowe in earth I lay I heard the voyce of mee what people saide But then to speake alas I was affraide And nowe a time for me I sée preparde I heare the liâ—es and falls of many wights My tale therefore the better may be heard For at the torch the little candle lights Where Pageants be smale things fill out the sights Wherefore giue eare good Churchyard doe thy best My Tragedy to place among the rest Because the truth shall witnes well with thée I will rehearse in order as it fell My life my death my dolefull destene My wealth my woe my doing euery deale My bitter blisse wherein I long did dwell A whole discourse by me Shores wife by name Now shalt thou heare as thou hadst séene the same Of noble blood I cannot boast my byrth For I was made out of the meanest moulde Mine heritage but seuen foote of th'earth Fortune ne gaue to me the gifts of gold But I could brag of nature if I would Who fild my face with fauour fresh and faire Whose beautie shon like Phoebus in the ayre My beautie blasd like torch or twinckling starre A liuely lamp that lends darke world some light Faire Phoebus beames scarse reacheth halfe so farre As did the rayes of my rare beautie bright As summers day exceedes blacke winters night So Shores wiues face made foule Browneta blush As pearle staynes pitch or gold surmounts a rush The Damaske rose or Rosamond the faire That Henry held as déere as Iewells be Who was kept close in cage from open ayre For beauties boast could scarse compare with me The kindly buds and blosomes of braue trée With white and red had deckt my chéekes so fine There stoode two balles like