thy vertues all Come wandryng wights y t seekes for happ in wilde depe streams flods And se with feelyng sence what gifts in Cicill growes buds I praies the name and blesse the plot and kisse suche perfit grounde That yeelds suche fruit and doeth in deede in blessed things abounde If tong had arte to showe at full the fulnesse of this soile The tong should worke and peÌ„ should cease or serue in place of foile To set forthe fame of lande vnknowne yet knowne to skilfull men And knowne againe to Gods theÌ„ selues that rules bothe tong pen. Finis A matter of repulce goyng to the Sea WHen will and winde doe iarre and Neptune proues a foe A man maie venter farre yet haue no powre to goe Admit that Ioue doe smile if other Gods doe lowre We must abide a while and watche the happie howre For eury God in Skies a seurall nature haue And sure greate quarrells rise by suites that men doe craue Of Gods whose sondrie moods a masse of matter showes Some are the Gods of goods and where that Fortune flowes Thei followe tide and tyme and some are Gods of game And some in clouds doe clime and flies as faste as Fame Some alwaies like the seas and some the lande embrace Some lou's to take their ease and quaff's and bibbs a pace Some are the Gods of graine and flowrs and fruit's likewise So now to breake my braine about these Gods in Skies It were but labour loste yet how should people saile Or ride to any coste when hope of Gods doe faile First proue a courage bolde and goe to féeld and fright If Mars his loue waxe cold ye shalbe conquerd streight Where Venus frounes make loue and see what lucke ye finde If Oelus liste not moue in vaine ye looke for winde So many thyngs by name are rulde through Gods in aire And Gods good lucke doe frame in weather foule or faire But Gods doe dwell so hye and I so lowe remaine I knowe not where to crie nor yet to whom complaine A greater greef I feele a fortune somwhat strange So swift tourns Fortunes wheele that still the winde doeth change When I to shipp would goe no soner tourne I backe But streight a gale doeth blowe where I the winde did â—icke This prou's like eurie suite that I doe take in hande For others catche the fruite when at reward I stande My Deastnie is enrould O maister of Roulls I feare Where winde doeth blowe so cold there comes no Sommer theare And though that Sonne doe shine it giu's but little heate Some saie worse lucke is myne and my mishap is greate Thus here in verse I showe what winde doeth me a reste In hope before I goe the winde mill bloweth at Weste Till then my penne shall walke where I doe finde good will To make my freends to talke on Churchyardes fortune still FINIS Of one that for vertues sake honored a freend AS freendship is a league of Loue and showes the harte within So some affection is the ground wheron it doth begin And reason offreth causes why sutche freendship breeds in thought Thus reason is the kindly cause that all these things hath wrought Some hold opinion fancie works by secret motions sweete A meane to make the honest minde and faithfull frendship meete Deserts dare claime no place hereof for where good turns haue past Small fauour comes and world forgetts the plain good will at last Then reason from affection brought must nedes the cause perswade Wherewith the fancie workes the webbe and so is freendship made When man and woman is in frame and shapt as I haue saied Their hartes prepars a perfite place where frendship maie be staied Wée see eare pleasures are possest or any profite rise A choice or likyng knitts the knot of freendship with the wise The iudgement doeth election make when all affects are blinde And freendship triumphes in no where but in a noble minde It scornes to dwell with daintie freaks that flickers here and there And flitts as feathers doe with winde and restes no certaine where The worthie wights that wisely waies y t weight of méere good wil Are chéefest mansion house and seate for worthy fréendship still But loe a question now doeth rise I doe demaunde to knowe Of fréendships rule or reasons lore whiche maie the furthest goe First fréendship marcheth formost man and leau's behinde the rest Then reason comes in second rancke and seeks to doe his best Yet freendship is not greater sure then reason in degree For freendship is but very bare where reason wants you see When witte hath well conceiu'd a cause by rule and reasons greate Then frendship showes this force at full as fire by flame shoes heate I knowe not well whiche ruleth moste the reason that I haue Or els the frendship that I beare where faithe doeth frendship craue Good reason leads my fancie forthe affection yeelds thereto And freendship followes on as faste as freendship ought to doe Thus loe my reason and my sence in frendships league is bound Whiche bondage is but free consent for freendly fauour found FINIS ¶ VVritten from the Countrey twentie yere agoe to one that poorely remaines at the Courte yet WHo spends his tyme in Court God knowse Maie happ to winne and sure to lose For losse is liker there to fall Then any happie chaunce at all Yet some cold Courtiars daiely thinke That at the spryng a man maie drinke The Welle hedde maie be stopt you see Then emptie must the Bocketts bee Where many drawe and preace is greate Or thousands doe the Market beate There things are skant and ware is deart The moe the geasts the barer cheare The Court is like a Mearmaids song That flattereth many people long And paieth them with a priuie nippe First braurie brings a begerly whippe And nexte vaine hope doeth lead the blinde To looke for that thei neuer finde Some set for birdes and catche a Gnatt And some doeth lose bothe leane and fatt I muse how men bewitched are To sitte in Court to gase and stare Eche one vpon an others face Maie herein resteth all the grace The Peacocke prides hym in his plume And doeth bothe tyme and wealth consume In pikyng of his feathers gaie The Cousloppe not so braue in Maie Is Courtiar is that clapps on all Who hopes for Larkes when skie doth fall Some drawes to Court when all is gon And those are called hangers on That neither wagies haue ne fee But thether come to heare and see And rubbe out tyme with lickyng crommes That droppeth out of hongrie thommes That saues a crust for Kate at home And some there be that vse to rome And prouleth for a pittaunce bare Where often emptie dishes are Some thrusteth all into the poke And hideth Manchetts vnder cloke And many other morsells sweete The almes whiche poore should haue in streete Is montcht in corners by sutche meane It is no shame to carry cleane Thei
nodd or becke a worlde maie ouerthrowe And still my staiyng staffe did stande by one alone Whose gentill harte is now become as hard as Marble stone To me the cace is sutche the mischeef so is mine When I am worne vnto the bones he letts me starue and pine And letts me sinck or swim or shift by sleight of braine As though my hedde so game some were to set on eury maine Thus freendship feble growes and men can causlesse change And will this daie familiar be and waxe to morne full strange I will goe fishe for Fate through floods and salt sea fome And rather dye on wretched rocks then perishe here at home Emong my chefest freends amid my natiue soile Where neuer earst in any point I suffred blot or foile Where all the worlde maie see I suckt vp many a wrong Where well awaie the ritche maie thinke a poore man liu's to long Where let my truthe be tried I clame no small reward And where if fortune doe me right the prince ought me regard FINIS Verses that were giuen to the Quenes maiestie AS Thonder cracks with horlyng noies ronns ratlyng through the Skies For feare whereof greate flocks of Sheepe to Folde or couert flies Or as the dreadfull Iudges voice of life sharpe sentence giu's And causeth captiu's quake for feare that vnder mercie liu's So hearyng from your highnesse mouth a worde of woÌ„ders weight Like hound I clapped doune my eares coutcht in kenell streight And droupyng in this worlds disdain that drounds eche good desart I suckt vp sighes as sorrowe shapt to breake a blistred harte Yet gripyng greef in gronyng brest bred no sutche swellyng sore But salue of sweete contented minde had healed long before Though nere the dongeon of dispaire in darcknesse did I dwell And Caron came with carefull boate to rowe me doune to hell I held my hands to heauen hye where hope and helpe is had And so apeald to hym aboue that heauie minds maie glad Feare not ê™ he of froward Fate that fast on people fauls Nor shon not for a cottage poore the princely golden hauls In Court thou shalt thy credite seeke for she who scepter beares Shall showe thee fauour when I list and looke vpon thy teares Her iudgement tries the gold froÌ„ drosse where doeth vertues bud She frankly speaks and frely giu's and flings forthe worldly good When he that rules the hartes of kyngs had told this tale to me To court I came for cause well knowne and knelyng on my kne At closet dore where Prince doeth passe to praier mildly than I found by words and gracious lookes I was a happie man O blessed be that cherefull browe where Phebus beams did shine And euerlastyng light remaine amid those blessed eyne That like the starrs or Lampe of daie that blaseth broad in Skies Doeth driue darke clouds night awaie wheÌ„ blostryng blasts arise And as there burns greate gifts of grace in her like candle clere So God vphold her blessed face emong vs many a yere Finis ¶ A rebuke to vaine louers WHy art thou bounde that maiest bee free Shall reason yeeld to ragyng will Is thraldome like to libertee Wilt thou exchange the good for ill Then must thou learne a childishe plaie And of eche smart to taste and proue When lookers on shall iudge and saie Loe this is he that â—â—u's by loue Thy witts with thought shall stande at staies Thyne hedde shall haue but heauie rest Thyne eyes shall watche for wanton waies Thy tongue shall showe thy harts request Thyne ears shall heare a thousande naies Thyne hande shall put thy penne to paine But in the ende thou shalt dispraise Thy life so spent for sutche small gaine First cast the care and count the coste And waie what fraude in loue is founde Then after come and make thy boste And showe some cause why thou art bounde When that the wine hath ronne full lowe Thou shalt be glad to drinke the lyes And basse the fleshe full oft I knowe That hath been blowne with many flyes If loue and luste might neuer cope And youth might ronne in measures race Or if long suite might winne sure hope I would lesse blame a louers cace But loue is greate with hotte desire And sweete delite maks youth so fonde That little sparks doe proue greate fire And bryngs free harts to endlesse bonde We se where greate deuotion is The people creepe and kisse the crosse Wherefore I finde lesse faute with this Though fondlyngs gilde a bridells bosse The foole his bable will not change Not for the scepter of a kyng A louers life is nothyng strange For yong men seeks no other thyng FINIS ¶ Of fained frendshippe IN fréends are found a heape of doubts that double dealyng vse A swarme of sutche I could finde out whose crafte I could accuse A face for loue a harte for hate those faunyng freends can beare A tong for trothe a hedde for whiles to fraude the simple eare In humble port is poison packt that plainnesse can not spie Who credits all and can not se where stingyng serpents lye With hastie trust the harmelesse harte is easily hampred in And made beleue it is good Gold that is but Lead and Tin The first deceipt that blears our eyes is fained faithe profest The second trap is gratyng talke that gropes eche strangers brest The third deuice is greetyng words with collours stretched out Whiche bids suspect to feare no snares nor dread no dangers doubt The last and worst is long repaire that crepes in frendshipps lappe And daiely haunt that vnder trust deuiseth many a trappe Loe how false frends can frame a fetche to win their wills w t wiles And sause their sleights with sugred sopps shadoe hurt w t smiles To sarue their lusts are sondrie sorts that practise diuerse kinds Some carry Honie in their mouths venome in their minds Thus where that custome â—ouâ—leth men in vice and foule abuse No feare of God nor losse of name there maners maie reduce Me thinke the stones within the streete should crie out at this cace And eury one that should them meete should shon their double face FINIS ¶ Verses that weare giuen to a moste mightie personage O Pearlesse Prince if penne had purchast praise My parte was plaied long since on publike stage Sith Leaden worlde disdaines the golden daies With face of Brasse men must go through this age Though Poetts prate like Parret in a cage Poore Tom maie sitte like Crowe vpon a stone And cracke harde Nutts for Almonds sure are gone A Figge for verse and filed gallant stiles Whose romblyng noyes but thonders in the aire For pleasant wordes procures but scorns and smiles Or clokes colde showres in calmie weather faire My spised termes are dround in deepe despaire Yong witts hath ronne old Churchyard out of breath And babblyng bookes hath ridden Rime to death Bothe Prose and Rime doeth goe a beggyng now And Finenesse fraes so sauours
A pleasaunte Laborinth called Churchyardes Chance framed on Fancies vttered with verses and writtē to giue solace to eury well disposed mynde wherein notwithstanding are many heauie Epitaphes sad and sorowfull discourses and sutche a multitude of other honest pastymes for the season and passages of witte that the reader therein maie thinke his tyme well bestowed All whiche workes for the pleasure of the worlde and recreation of the worthie are dedicated to the right honourable sir Thomas Bromley knight lorde Chancelour of Enlande ¶ Imprinted at London by Ihon Kyngston 1580. ¶ To the right honourable Sir Thomas Bromley Knight Lorde Chauncellour of Englande one of the Quenes Maiesties priuie Councell Thomas Churchyarde wisheth greate blessednesse of life continuance of vertue and perfite felicitie AS custome and continuaunce of tyme bredes a lawe in Nature and cōuertes mannes mynde to many a laudable excercise so moste honourable the good will of men is neuer vnoccupied if either honest labour or stdious diligence maie please those greate personages that affection and duetie commaundes vs to honor And as it hath bin through tyme out of mynde an auncient maner in the beginnyng of a newe yere to present vnto freendes and sutche as we beste fauour some signe of freendshipp by waie of newe yeres giftes so I trust the maner so mutche commended emong the wise and so long vsed with all sortes of people for the purchasyng of good liking shall excuse my ouer greate boldnesse and make my simple gifte accepted For as I vnderstande and my betters farre haue reported it is not the valewe of the presentes nor the ritchnesse of the Iewels that makes our giftes welcome and bringes the giuer in the good opiniō of the worthies in this worlde but it is the vertuous intent of the minde that maketh free passage to that whiche is presented and causeth as well little trifles to bee estemed as greate treasure to bee made of If otherwise the worthinesse of thynges were to be iudged my triflyng booke might blushe in my behalfe and the vaine verses therein would rather argue my disgrace then further my good fame And therefore my good Lorde since euery mans gift is receiued waied accordyng to the good will of the giuer I haue this present new yeres daie presented vnto your good Lordshipp good Chaunce and so with this good Chaunce salutyng your honor with all seruisable dueties I honor your Lordshipps vertues procede to the purpose of my matter The people of this worlde whose sondrie wittes and iudgementes lookes deepely into the deuises of the writers in our age if thei would straitly and narrowly beholde how busie I haue bin in settyng out bookes and printyng of pamfletts might paraduenture make a wonder of my wearisome woorkes for that many woordes hath bin spent to little profite either of my Countrey or commoditie to my self because my small learnyng and capacitie could neuer reche to any greate knowledge nor searche out the ground of any profounde seeret or science But how so euer my woorkes maie bee construed my penne hath kept me from slothe and Idelnesse and little hath bin loste by my studie and labors For freendes and fauourars hath bin gotten through diligence and tyme hath bin entertained in muche contentation of minde And though it was my Chaunce to light on a pleasant disposition in making of verses whē others happened by Fortunes election on a multitude of benifites yet blessed is the Chaunce that breedeth merrie thoughtes and vnlodes the harte and hedde of a nomber of heauie cogitations For though small abilitie simple callyng bryngeth no greate reputation and credite yet it sitteth free from the bitter blaste of Fortunes tempestes VVhen the mindes of the mightie are shocked and shaken with the blusteryng stormes of worldes vnstablenesse And though my Chaunce was to trauaill abroade to seeke after Fortune whiles others at home found themselues happie yet beyng so smally prefarred by Chaunce euery where I am neither troubled with her mutabilitie nor driuen to giue her thankes for any good tourne she hath doen me And yet my Chaunce is indifferent that bothe in warres and peace possessyng my little portion I haue seen thousandes depart from this worlde and sodainly taken from their abondance My chance is to be in court well knowen and mutche made of though smally considered or aduaunced My Chaunce is to liue awhile and write Epitaphes Sonets and sedules on many a worthie personage whiles my life and footesteps drawes the bodie to his long home and leades the restlesse daies to the quiet graue And so as Chance hath fallen out and alotted me by a bond of causes through the originall ground of all goodnesse the pleasure of penne and the pain of studie euen so in like maner I gladly plaie out my part on the stage in this toilesome and tragicall pilgrimage where nothyng easeth our labours so mutche as the sweete contentatiō of minde But to what purpose trouble I your honourable iudgement and grauitie with the rehersall of trifles or why doeth rashenesse in so bolde a maner dedicate sutche a woorke scarce worthie the looking on to sutche a worthie Magistrate whose wisedome maie disdaine the reading of so simple a discourse The trothe is my right good Lorde this present is offered as a peece of a meane to passe awaie the tyme amid great affaires and weightie causes whiche with light matters findes recreation by the inuention of pretie deuised sportes the studie and care of commonweale seemeth lesse tedius and troublesome For the minde wearied with ouer long labours and sadde motions of the spirite that through continuaunce maie dull the senses is sharpened and made better at commaundement when chaunge of pastymes with some pleasaunt exercises hath eased the bodie and refreshed the memorie My verses God wot are voide of sutche deuine vertue And I wantyng the grace of Mercurie or Pipe of Appollo presumeth to farre to please the eares of Minerua with the rashe sounde of rusticall Musicke But though the harmonie be not so sweete and delicate as is to be wished the desire to doe well is the instrument onely that maie bryng suche delite whiche maie for euer purchace good acceptation And for that to the art of Musicke and harmonie belongeth seuerall sortes of partes to make good concordance I haue tuned all my notes and songes worthie the hearyng into one kind of voice and order Meanyng that where many a peece of descant is to bee seen and some iarres maie happen by misliking of discordes yet a nomber of partes soundyng together maie couer the faultes and imperfectiōs of an ignoraunt Musition And because in the sweete soile of Salop in whiche parties your Lordshippe was nourished whiche seate I honour of nature and toke some sauor and taste of Science in the gladder are my muses to reuerence with verses a speciall sparke and spectacle of the countrey I was borne in either with Musicall melodie or Poeticall pastymes and passages delated
pleasures here possest As did this knight of whom I spake who bore about in brest A noble harte a constant mynde a iollie courage greate A warme good will to common wealth that neuer wanted heate Brought vp in armes and Marciall feats a maister of that arte Whiche oft in feeld and countreis cause did plaie a manly parte As birth was good and noble sure so all he went about Was good and worthie eurie waie and noble still throughout In office oft and by his Prince to credite called still In matters graue and thyngs of weight of deepe foresight and skill No talker of good Fortune won nor boster for vaine bruite A tree that seldome blossomde showd yet brought forth good fruite As calme and milde as Sommer winds that neuer water moues And yet as stout to cruell Rites as gentill with the Doues A bodie apte to beare the brunt of paines and labour long A hedde that could conceiue the beste and sone could put vp wrong A freende that vsde no fained phrase and surely one of those That dealt with parfite plainnesse so he neuer purchaste fose A settled rocke a staied trothe that no deuice could staine A Paulet yea a piller too where Paulet did remaine An aide to sutche as wanted helpe a father free and franke To those that onely for good tourns but barely yeelded thanke What resteth more in any man then was in hym I saie Thus Paulet wan a noble brute and bore the same awaie Where vertue at the dreadfull howre when trompet sounds a loude Emong the cheef and chosen Lambes shall sit in sacred cloude FINIS ¶ Sir VVillyam Courtneis Epitaphe BY death eche life is knowen as darkenesse tries out light By life is man made like the Gods where life is ledde a right Whiles Courtneis life did laste his glorie hid remainde But now he hath sutche rare renowne as fewe or none attainde The worlde setts forthe his fame in sutche a liuely sorte That to the Angells eares aboue is blowen thereof reporte Whiche newes is lickte so well the heauens holde them bleste WheÌ„ God shall bid vnlocke the gates embrace this newe come gest But though the heauens ioye the yearth with teares is filde And kinde hath cause to curse her self that suche a tree hath spilde By sicknesse sent in spight to spoile the spraise and all And made grene leaues forsake their bowes ere fruit wer ripe to fall Me thinke I heare hym saie would God had been my chance To hitte on death in open feeld by chardge of enemies Lance. Lament ye Courtlike Lordes a plaie feere loste you haue Sende forthe some sighes a long the seas to sobb vpon his graue That buried is at Hawne with warlike pompe and shotte Whiche range his knell as is the gise alas to sone God wotte Well worthie goe thy waie how many of thy name Are lefte behinde to tread thy stepps and winne but halfe thy fame How should sutche gifts be graft without some power deuine Sutche vertues dwell in one mans breast as harbred were in thine A Courtney by thy name a Courtier kindly borne A perfite peece not painted out a coine vnclippte or worne One of so right a stampe that streight did currant passe In euery place of his repaire where sondrie golds were glasse His face bewraied at first what hope of hym to haue His works performde that tonge brought forth his hand full largely gaue A hedde that ofte had paste dame Prudens mustere books A countnance as his courage was no forsed Lyons looks A harte storehouse of trothe a minde no ire might moue An eare that watcht for well coucht words a grace that gatt mutche loue His liberall Nature shewed full ofte to eche degree Where bountie wants set birthe a side ye can not noble bee Now better kisse his steppes then at his praise to kicke Well maie men roue about his marke but none shall hit the pricke What mournyng makes his wife that sutche a housbande loste His babes his men his neighbours eke and all the Westerne coste Well geasts your Hoste is gone turne horse an other waie The shrine is robbde the saincte is fled where ye were wont to staie The sacred godds receiue emong them where thei are With as muche mirth as maie be made the sprite y t Courtney bare FINIS Sir VVillyam Pickryngrs Epitaphe MY sences slept in rest the quiet couche I take When worlds reporte with hurlyng brute badde sluggishe muse awake And whett the blunted witts on mournyng matter newe A heauie happe a soddaine chance that thousandes ought to rewe What fortune is befalne in worlde ê™ I of late Is any braunche or member hurte that erst hath serude the state Or is some sproute decaied or tree blowne donne by blast That through mans skill sweate of browes might growe stande ful fast There is ê™ Fame to me a worthie wight gone hence Now dedde ' that late was quicke and ripe of iudgement wit sence And Pickryng was his name whose mynde was sure so greate The noble browes bare witnesse plain where haÌ„mers still did beate A man that credite wonne by seruice sondrie waies A Tully bothe with penne and tong at proofe moste worthie praies And surely from the Gods the rarest gifts posseste That euer in these drousie daies did lodge in one mans breste Looke not I should rehearse what all his vertues weare But looke amid these worldly happs how he hym self did beare When Fortune turude her face he smothly let it slide The want of will at no tyme could in looks nor life be spide If happe had faunde on hym he changde no chere therefore In equall ballance stoode the weight of chaunces lesse or more As wisedome clockte his cares so stoutnesse staied his minde And custome taught hym how to taste the toiles that here we finde In learned Platoes rules good Pickryng pleasure tooke And shonde the worlde to sort hym self with gladsome golden booke Emong a worlde of men in deede fewe freends he chose Yet with a manly modest meane he could reclaime his foes His port and presence sutche he was for Court full fitte And for his graue and deepe foresight he might in councell sitte The life that here he ledde giues still sufficient light For skilfull heads and scannyng minds to wrest his maners right Now hath he that he sought and dwells aboue in blis Where good mens soulls as worlde thei leaue at length shall meete with his When Fame had told her tale I cald for paper streight And in suche verse as here you reade I put these words of weight FINIS Maister Hampdens Epitaphe GOOd life is knowen through deathes despite and when to graue wee goe Good life steppes forthe of shroudyng sheete and doeth our vertues showe The yearth can claime but fleshe and bones and leaue the reste to fame The heauens lookes but for the soule and worlde retaines good name So somwhat man doeth leaue behinde that shines like lanterne clere Note
A grace to winne and purchace freends at vewe and present sight A Toby to his children all yea Iob for happie state A father graue that well bestowd the worldly goods he gate A Iewell to Kilkenie sure when toune besieged was A worthie Burges stoute of harte that could through perills passe Of stature meane of maner milde and sure as I haue hard A verie shadowe of a sainct so shapte in some regard His ende did showe what life he ledd his neighbours doe recorde He was a plant of speciall grace and member of the Lorde Wherefore dere freends y t reads these lines be sure his soule is well And he through Christ doeth triumph still on dreadfull death and hel And sitts as safe in Abrams breast as babe in mothers lappe Moste glad are Adams ofspring all that meets sutche blessed happe FINIS ¶ The Lorde Braies Epitaphe CRie out thou worlde and Court and saie that loste ye haue A better Iewell for his daies then your desarts doe craue But small ye waie the losse of hym and others eke Of whose good nature when ye neede ye are full farre to seeke Whiche maks your plague the more though least ye thinke thereon When ofte ye wishe them here againe that long are dedde and gon As Gold from Lead is knowne sutche diffrence is in deede In men and more vnlike thei are then flowre is vnto weede Lorde Braie declares the same who was so clere a Lampe That fewe or none my iudgement giues are left vs of that stampe So currant for the Court so comely in the felde So right a sparke of Natures moulde hath here been seen but selde His face did full present a manly worthie minde His woords set forthe a further skill then all mens heds could finde His life could none mislike his Nature throughly good His hande more freely gaue awaie then worlde well vnderstood A harte where honour dwelt a corps full trimly knitte A shape as kinde had breath'd hym out a hedde where lackt no witte O Braie thou borest awaie the banner of renowne Let none thinke scorne to followe thee in feeld in court nor toune I take a heauie leaue of thee and so I cease And leaue thee flikeryng in the aire before the God of peace FINIS Sir Ihon Constables Epitaphe IN lookyng through these worldly happs so walkyng where I would And waiyng well with equall paies the weight of yearthly mould I heard a sadd and priuie voice as though some fearfull spreete In hollowe Caue or vaute of stone had spoke from shroudyng sheete It badde me looke to true report that Tymes cheef daughter is And sett a side all fonde affects whiche leads the penne amis Thou hast ê™ he for fauours sake prais'd some thou didst not knowe I was thy freende wherefore in verse my course of life doe showe These woords pronouncst he silence kept and vanisht so awaie His soule to Skies his fame to worlde his corps to clotts of claie Then to my Muse I gan repaire with harte as cold as stone And so with dolefull verse bewaield the death of good sir Ihon. Who ledde his life in greate renowne and neighbours loue with all And seru'd the state on his owne charge when prince did please to call By Northen broils that bred mutche bale and subiects trothes were tried His great good will to dueties bounds loiall faith was spied He alwaies stoode to rightfull thyngs and would not swaie a wrie To any pointe wherein reproche or losse of name did lye A freende that was not lightly loste and did good tournes bestowe Where cause requirde librall hart through bounties springs should flowe A house he kept of greate expence and daiely at his doore With that good store that God him blest he helpt to feede y â— poore He married twise in noble race and kept a noble traine And freely gaue good seruaunts Farms to recompence their paine He bare to freends sutche perfite loue that to the howre of death He neuer failed any one as long as he had breath He had greate suites and troubles too that many sorrows bryngs Yet ere he died with worship greate he ended all those thyngs He gaue good lands for Scholers weale as was the auncient gies And made an Almes house for the poore in Halsham where he lyes All Holdernesse that knewe hym well doeth misse his presence now So iuste and worthie eurie waie were all his doyngs throw But when the fruite of tree is ripe or men be at the beste Doune doe thei drop at the length in yearth with worms thei rest Yet good mens ghosts do clime the clouds drawes where God in trone Brings chosen lambs to endlesse ioy froÌ„ worldly care mone FINIS The phantasticall Monarkes Epitaphe THough Daâ—t be dedde and Marrot lies in graue And Petrarks sprite bee mounted past our vewe Yet some doe liue that Poets humours haue To keepe old course with vains of verses newe Whose penns are prest to paint out people plaine That els a sleepe in silence should remaine Come poore old man that boare the Monarks name Thyne Epitaphe shall here set forthe thy fame Thy climyng mynde aspierd beyonde the Starrs Thy loftie stile no yearthly titell bore Thy witts would seem to see through peace and warrs Thy tauntyng tong was pleasant sharpe and sore And though thy Pride and pompe was somewhat vaine The Monarcke had a deepe discoursyng braine A lone with freend he could of wonders treate In publike place pronounce a sentence greate No matche for fooles if wisemen were in place No mate at meale to sit with common sort Bothe graue of looks and fatherlike of face Of Iudgement quicke of comely forme and port Moste bent to words on hye and solempne daies Of diet fine and daintie diuerse waies And well disposde if Prince did pleasure take At any mirthe that he poore man could make On gallant robes his greatest glorie stood Yet garments bare could neuer daunt his minde He feard no state nor â—aerd for worldly good Helde eche thyng light as fethers in the winde And still he saied the strong thursts weake to wall When sworde bore swaie the Monarke should haue all The man of might at length shall Monarke bee And greatest strength shall make the feeble flee When straungers came in presence any wheare Straunge was the talke the Monarke vttred than He had a voice could thonder through your eare And speake mutche like a merrie Christmas man But sure small mirthe his matter harped on His forme of life who lists to looke vpon Did shewe some witte though follie fedde his will The man is dedde yet Monarke liueth still FINIS Epitaphes alreadie printed or out of my handes THe Epitaphe of Kyng Henry the eight 1 The Erle of Surries Epitaphe 2 The Lorde Cromwells Epitaphe 3 The Ladie Wentworthes Epitaphe 4 The Lorde Graies of Wilt on his Epitaphe 5 The Lorde Poinynges Epitaphe 6 Maister Audleis the greate Soldiours Epitaphe 7 The worthie
for pleasure and delite and dedicated where I desire my duetifull good will maie be embraced The matters I treate of are written of sutche sondrie humours and subiectes that thei are more to be redd for the varietie of woordes then for the goodnesse of the verses and the cause why and wherefore I dedicate sutche a matter to your Lordship is for that I would be sorie that my daies and yeres should bee spent with the losse of tyme and that my labour and studie well ment should be forgotten and caste in a corner for waÌ„t of the printing The strange motions and maner of the writyng showes nothyng but the nature of mans fansies that neuer continueth in one kinds of consait The occasions of so many seuerall discourses rose but on the innumerable deuises of the hed that euer in one pointe or other by imagination is occupied And the whole somme and substance of that whiche is written is but to publish to the worlde that ill is better to be meanely exercised in honest pastymes then basely bent and giuen to barraine slothe and Idelnesse Thus trustyng your good Lordship will take in good part a part of the portion that from the heauens is giuen me I presente vnto your handes this newe yere some of mine old labors studies Printed al bound in one newe volume for sutche as pleases to buye them And so as beste becommeth me and duetie commaundes I remaine a well willer to your honour duryng my life moste willyngly at commaundemente Thomas Churchyard Churchyardes Chance My Ladie of Lennoyes graces Epitaphe YOU noble dames of greatest birth whose fame to clouds would flye On this cold cors with warme good will bowe doune your iudgyng eye To see how fleshe and blood must fall to dust when race is ronne And worldly brute and honours blaste shall ende where it begonne If stately name or high renowne might make her bodie liue Or Princes blood to life and breath might here a patente giue This Ladie had not tasted death nor felte in sondrie thyngs Suche crossyng chance and froward fate as to her graue she brings Was neuer wight with troubles toste so sore and past them soe For in her breast from tender yeres a gulffe of greef did floe Scan that whiche best can skill of woe her sorrowes were so greate That when I waie a dram thereof my face and browes doe sweate But though she founde her fortune harde a staied mynde she bore A worthie hedde where sober witte by heapes laie hid in store Her gesture shewd from whence she came her words moste graue wyes And honours beame like burnyng Lampe did blase amid her eyes A presence that could freends coÌ„maunde and hold her foes full mute A noble harte where bounties budds did blome and beare good frute What needs more words to proue a trothe so rare her vertues were That who presumes to hit them right maie misse the marke I fere As you that mourne are cladde with blacke in white her soule doeth shine Transformd froÌ„ fleshe to angels kinde or sacred shape deuine Where fortunes threate caÌ„ doe no harme nor worldly foile she fears And eche good ghost in glorie greate doeth make an ende of tears Her life my gaine her death my losse her fauour helpt my state Her laste farewell leaues freends behinde to waile the losse too late FINIS ¶ An Epitaphe of sir Nicholas Bacon Knight late Lorde Keeper THE lodestarre that good Pilotts likt crept vnder cloude of late A suddaine storme hath knapt in twoo a staffe of publicke sâ—ate Out of our goodlie golden Ryng is falne a precious stone The lande that sutche a Iewell lacks hath cause to morne and mone The babes that seeth their parents dye of duetie sheds some teares But when a Pillar falleth doune that countries burthen beares The common wealth doeth bide a shocke and ioynts in sonder shake If not in steade of auncient propp a newe defence we make A father to all forward witts who fostred lawe and right A Sunne that shone through highest clouds yet gaue belowe greate light Who will not waile that knowes the want well Englande sutche a glas Shall seldome shine in thee againe as worthie Bacon was A flood of sence and sugred sappe came flowyng from his braine Ne Tulles toung nor Petracks penne nor stoute wise Catoes vaine Maie not surmount the philed phrase and reche of Bacons hedd His voice was smothe as Organe pipe and looke what Bacon sedd Was held for Lawe iudgement greate the sentence was so swete The words were of so deepe a fetche and sprong from suche a sprete He spent no speeche nor words in waste and where his promes past Performance hasted out of hande and followd on as faste To God to Prince and Iustice rules a greate regard he tooke Not on the man but on the cause and matter would he looke Disposde and bente to doe muche good but namely vnto those To whom dame vertues learned lore did gifts of grace disclose His countries care cutts of his daies and brings theÌ„ dim dark night That wisely cannot waye the weight and worth of sutche a wight He liues in laude and lanterne like he lastes with blasyng fame We die world weares out our praise where shines his noble name Moste noble are those burnyng lampes moste clerest light thei shoe That leaues a torche which giues vs light wheÌ„ heÌ„ce froÌ„ vs thei goe FINIS ¶ Sir Hugh Pauletts Epitaphe NO verse a vailes ne teares maie serue to waile the want at full My witts are weake my words but bare my penne but base and dull To frame in forme and stately stile the lines I ought to write I finde my muse orecome with cares my reason banishe quite My hedde so fraught with cold conceits of newes I knowe full well That I had rather crie and rore and shrillie houle and yell Then treate of dreadfull deaths despite who daiely doeth deuoure The noblest fruits of Natures mould and pluckes the purest flowre Death neither looks on mens renowne nor who maie best be spard But like a Theef stealls life awaie and striks without regard Not takyng those that vertue wants and fills the worlde with vice But snapps vp suche that people praise worlde holds moste in price As loe of late to well was seen when Paulet left his life Forsooke his freends desired the graue and went from worthy wife To liue and lodge in loftie Skies where blessed angells are And good mens souls doe suretie finde and rest from worldly care No maruell though our troubled sprits doe make a swete exchange And leaues this sowre and bitter soile and will some couÌ„trie straÌ„ge To goe where Gods in glorie sitts and where our home must bee Yet in my mynde suche partyng is a wonder greate to see When men by toile and labour long haue purchast suche a praise Attainde to wealth and honour bothe through seruice sondrie waies And on the suddaine leaue these pomps and
and talke together still When distance of the tyme and place denies them of their will When furthest of thei seeme thei ioyne in ioye and blis And eurie smart that absence breeds a present pleasure is The fraude and finesse now and tickle trothe in man Maks faithe and freendship thrise as sweete as when it first began In these dessemblyng daies who findes a freende I trowe Hath founde a seconde Phenix sure and needes no further goe Shrine vp that sainct in golde locke vp that Iewell riche Ye cannot in no measures meane of freendship make too mitche FINIS A warnyng from Courte LOoke not for deedes when wordes driu's of the tyme Thei reape but weedes that sowes on barraine grounde Trust not to age when youth is paste his prime Showe not plaine face where finenesse doeth abounde Hope not for grace where Flattrie faunes like whelpe But haunt the place where hope hath readie helpe Spende little wealthe where witte and tyme is loste Creepe from colde Court where freendshipps fire goes out Matche not with Pride nor leane to painted poste Seeke rather Death then liue in daiely doubt Where Enuie liu's and Loue is tournde to luste Good minds doe dye and worlde is not to truste The Sirens song deceiu's the simple eare The hissyng Snake giu's warnyng eare he styng Greate pitts are hid in water smothe and feare The hollowe bell doeth make the sweetest ryng Thus daunger dwells where least the doubt appeers And pleasant feelds doe yeeld moste scratchyng Breers The plainest folke are in the roughest soile The subtlest hedds to golden hâ—ules repaire Who shuns gaie showes shall scape from Fortunes foile Foule weather hangs in Cloudie smilyng aire I can no more but bidde the wise beware Of gallant Court that weares vaine glorie bare FINIS Of a Courtiers life and how the worst sorte findes beste Furtune THis parshall worlde prefarres the fained face And beates hym backe that beares the blotlesse browe As one might saie thei stande in Fortunes grace That worst deseru's and best can flatter now He reaps no Corne that helps to holde the Plowe His gaine is small that labours till he grones He bears the loade that hath the weakest bones The wiely hedde hath witte to watche his howres Like Foxe and Wolfe that seru's them selu's you see The idell hands that neuer planted flowres Takes Honie sweete from sillie labryng Bee Though Fauken faire for Ducke or Partrige flee He feedes on Beefe or other baser meate Thus are thei seru'd that oft doe toile and sweate Some rouns full swift yet still the wager loes Men haue sutche sleight to tripp their fellowes doune We knowe not how the wheele of Fortune goes Nor wherein rests our wealth or right renowne The tromp of Fame giu's sutche vncertaine sowne That badd are good and good haue but badd lucke In happie thyngs or gaine of worldly mucke Next walkyng Iaads and whipyng horses heeles Is Soldiours craft and waityng Courtiers trade The one in feeld bothe cold and honger feeles The other here at home a drudge is made Well all is one to sitt in Sonne or shade If happ giue all no matter who doeth sowe He reaps moste Corne whose Sieth shall furthest goe FINIS Of woordes spoken by a greate personage I Liue that dieth eurie howre my glasse is nere hande roime I fall awaie as doeth a flowre that withers in the Sonne O death dispatche my dolefull daies defar no tyme here in Good Lachis make thou no delaies my fatal threde to spin Thou Clarke I saie that for thy fee doeth ryng the carefull knell Now let me haue some helpe of thee to tolle my passyng bell If by the waie I maie prouoke to shorten now my life This hande of myne shall strike the stroke y t sone shall stint my strife I muse why God did me create and breathd life in my breste And brought me vp to this estate that nere enioyed no reste Why was I fed with milke so oft and pampred vp so long Why was I rockt and laied so softe and lullde with many a song Why was not I vntymely borne when Nature had me wrought That liueth thus as man forlorne and still consumes with thought The Midwife might haue cas'd all this if strangled had I bin Then had my soule been saffe in blis that now lyes dround in sin But looke what God assignde is doen what should I reason more O Lorde my God what hast thou won in plagyng me so sore What honour canst thou haue by me what glorie canst thou haue What seruice can I doe to thee that wisheth thus my graue And in this plite to dye thou knowest so farre from quiet frame Before I should yeeld vp the ghost I might blaspheme thy name The worlde disdains to see my wealth the heauens on me froune The yearth and aire denies me health and Fortune keeps me doune The daie I driue awaie with care the might I waile and weepe The sighes sobs that comes vnware doeth wake me in my slepe The foode that should my life sustaine I finde therein small taste My blood dries vp in eurie vaine loe how I weare and waste Thus eurie thing doeth change his kinde to worke my woe you see And nothyng seru's me to my minde I fall in sutche degree Would God my graue were ready found my shroudyng shete al And dreadfull Death were surely bounde to come when I doe call Finis ¶ A description of Desire LEd by Desire a thrall where fréedome lyes Helde backe by witte when fancie forward hales My greedie will begiles my gasyng eyes Calde home from craft yet caught in cunnyng stales Drawne from my self and made to others call If daunger come Desire is cause of all Prepard for flight my wings are faste in Lyme I swimme in hope and sincke with deepe consaite Deceiu'd by happ yet learnd by losse of tyme To knowe the hooke and yet must misse the baite But bound and ledde a long by swéete Desire I scorche or burne before I féele the fire Desire lackes sight yet leades the sences blinde And wilfull Will waites hard at Daungers héeles Good spéede full leane comes laggyng farre behinde Close harte saies nought that all the sorrowe féeles So thus the man to Death like captiue goes Ledde by Desire that knowes not freends from foes Our life declares Desire can take no reste In soundest sléepes it keepes the minde awake It is a sprite that closely créepes in breste A priuie thought that Warres and Peace doeth make And whom it leads it either throwes hym doune Or liftes hym vp by happ to greate renowne The Soldiour builds his hope on greate Desire The Marchant getts his gaine and wealth thereby The trauelyng wight it paies with noble 〈◊〉 It heales the harte that in Dispaire doeth lye And though some sparks of vice flee from that flame A good Desire maintaines a vertuous name Then blushe I not to yeelde where force doeth faile Desire doeth daunt the strong
and stoutest minde Where Fancie rules no wisedome can preuaile Striue not with streame nor saile against the winde For when fine witte hath doen the beste it maie Desire comes in and leads the harte awaie FINIS ¶ Of a vicious woman AS euery lake and puddle seemeth sweete To greedie throts that daiely drinke doe craue So vnto some eche water is full meete To coole their mouths when any thirst thei haue The worst at hande contents their geerie fitte The beste farre of is not desirde a whitte Good reason why a pleasure nere at call Is better sure then that we want at neede When thirst is paste we wishe no drinke at all When honger comes then gladly would we feede The Hauke once fedde with any kinde of meate Her gorge is full Gill will no Partriche eate Yet Beefe is grosse and hard for to endue And carrion Crowes with Phesant is no matche Though all things seru's for Hauks that keeps y â— mew Yet those that flee a better pray can watche Who saies eche drinke thei haue too greate a haste For Crabbs be Crabbs and haue a bitter taste Is Beere and Wine a like in euery cace Or frettyng Salt like Suger any wheat Is Porke at home like Uenson in the chace Is Glasse like Golde or Brasse yet halfe so fear Are little titts like Coursers finely made No no in deede a roile is but a Iade Are Nettle stalks like roddie Roses leaues Maie stinkyng Docks with Gillaflowres compare Is dustie Chaffe like goodlie filled Sheaues Is euill cheere like pleasant sumptuous fare A hongrie baite a cold repaste thei finde That fruite forsaks and feedeth on the rinde Then if there be of worthies many a one That serues their will with drosse where gold is cheape And for a Pearle forsaks a precious stone And takes the worst where worthies are a heape Now let them blushe or frowne to heare my song Theirs is the fault and I haue all the wrong FINIS Of vnsounde freendes THe roote not pure the braunches are infecte The tree vnsounde the fruite and leaues are nought The grounde not good the roote is in suspecte Of euery greef the cause must first be sought For breake the bowes and cleane dispoile the tree The roote lefte whole a greater harme maie bee A sore vnsearcht is seldome salued well As hatred hid is harde to heale without The Doctour seeks where eche disease doeth dwell And gropes the grounde and so a voides the doubt First quenche the cause in flames that doeth remaine The strawe on fire the smoke will rise againe To cutte thy hande when festred is thy foote Or pricke thy arme when all thy hedde is sicke Ye be farre of ye come not nere the roote Then this beleeue ye are not nere the quicke So though the sworde the simple putts to sacke The shippe you haue and yet the sterne you lacke FINIS A matter of fonde Cupid and vain Venus IN Peascod time wheÌ„ hound to horne giu's eate til Buck be kilde And little laddes with pipes of corne sat keepyng beastes a filde I went to gather strawberies tho by woodes groues full faire And parchte my face with Phebus so in walkyng in the aire That doune I laied me by a streame with bowes all ouer clad And there I meate the straungest dreame that euer yong man had Me thought I sawe eche Christmas game eche reuell all and some And euery thyng that I can name or maie in phansie come The substaunce of the sights I sawe in silence passe thei shall Because I lacke the skill to drawe the order of theim all But Venus shall not passe my penne whose maidens in disdaine Did feede vpon the harts of menne that Cupides bowe had slaine And that blinde boye was all in blood be bathed to the eares And like a conquerour he stood and scorned louers teares I haue quod he more harts at call then Caesar could commaunde And like the Dere I make them fall that runneth ore the lande One droppes doune here an other there in bushes as thei grone I bende a scornefull carelesse eare to heare them make their moue â—he sir quod honest meanyng then thy boyely bragges I heare WheÌ„ thou hast wouÌ„ded many a man as hounts man doeth the deare Becomes it thee to triumphe so thy mother will it not For she had rather breake thy bowe then thou shalt plaie the sot What sausie Marchaunt speaketh now saied Venus in her rage Art thou so blinde thou knowst not howe I gouerne euery age My sonne doeth shoote no shafte in waste to me the boye is bounde He neuer founde a harte so chaste but he had power to wounde Not so faire Goddes quod Freewill in me there is a choise And cause I am of myne owne ill if I in thee reioyse And when I yeeld my self a slaue to thee or to thy sonne Suche recompence I ought not haue if thyngs be rightly done Why foole steppe forthe Delight said wheÌ„ thou art coÌ„quered thus Then loe dame Lust that wanton maide thy mistresse is iwus And Lust is Cupids darlyng deare behold here where she goes She crepes the milke warme fleshe so nere she hides her vnder cloes Where many priuie thoughts doe dwell a heauen here on yearth For thei haue neuer minde of hell thei thinkes so muche â—n merth Be still good meanyng quod good Sport let Cupid triumph make For sure his kyngdome shalbe shorte if we no pleasure take Faire Beautie and her plaie feers gaie the Uirgines vestall too Shall sitte and with their fingers plaie as Idell people doe If honest Meanyng fall to froune and I good Sporte decaie Then Venus glorie will come doune and thei will pine awaie In deede quod witte this your deuise w t straâ—gnes must be wrought And where you see these women niece and looketh to be sought With scoulyng browes their follies checke and so giue theÌ„ the figge Let Fancie be no more at becke when Beautie lokes so bigge When Venus heard how thei conspirde to murther women so Me thought in deede the house was fired w t stormes lightnyng tho The thunderbolt through windowes burst in their stepes awight Whiche seemd some soule or sprite a curst so vglie was the sight I charge you Ladies all quod he looke to your selues in haste For if that men so wilfull be and haue their thoughts so chaste And thei can treade on Cupides breast and marche on Venus face Then thei shall slepe in quiet reste when you shall waile your cace With that had Venus all in spite sturde vp the Dames to Ire And Luste fell cold and Beautie white satte babblyng with Desire Whose muttryng words I might not marke mutche whispring there a roes The daie did lower the Sonne waxt darke awaie eche Ladie goes But whether went these angrie flocke our Lorde hymself doeth kno Wherewith full loudely crewe the Cocke and I awaked so A dreame quod I a Dogge it is I take thereon no keepe I gage
saie that liues by this deuise I fare as one that flyngs the Dice And caste eche chaunce sutche is my freake Yet minde I but of Courte to speake The Courte is place of sutche repaire There must be needes Dick shifters aire Of euery sorte bothe good and bad At some one tyme maie there be had The fauner and the frounyng browe The stately stalkes that will not bowe The hollowe lookes the hautie minde The scornefull face the Bayard blinde The whisperer and the whinyng Pigge The subtell sheepe that lookes full bigge The counterfaite that semeth golde The coward and the countenaunce bolde The graue the wise and worthie bothe All kinde of sorts I tell thee trothe Is founde in Court but worst in deede So many haunteth there for neede Thou were as good goe holde the Plowe As in the Court seeke Fortune nowe A thousande gapes for one mans gaine And fifteene hundreth lose their paine Scarce one is holpen by good happe The fruitfull tree hath lost his sappe There springes but blossoms from the stocke Eche thyng is vnder double locke And bountie is so straightly laest That franknesse now is cleane defaest He that can learne vs how to spare Is our white sonne thus runnes the Hare The dogges maie pinche but seldome bite All sience of hope are banishe quite The largnesse that in Court hath dwelt Can neither now be seen nor felt Eche riuer ronnes into the sea And there the floodes consume awaie And nought retournes to vs againe But little streams and dropps of raine I feare the worlde is at an ende Then thinke not thou the Court shall mende As worlde decaies so Court doeth weare Yet euery thing should florishe theare Thou foole trust not to noddes and becks Nor wordes that are as drie as kecks In Court sutche things full plentie are When Cloke and Hatte and all is hare And to the bones thou shalt be worne The Court shall giue thee but a scorne A proper weede to keepe thee warme God shilde my freend from suche a charme Let them in Court goe waite and prie That haue good cause and liues thereby Looke to the countrey that thou drawe And liue in compasse of the lawe And loue thy Prince and feare his sworde And from my house I sende thee worde It is as vaine in Court to hope As seeke a blessyng of the Pope Come let vs ride abrode this Spryng As mery a harte as any kyng A poore man hath that is content God knowes who liues an other Lent Thou seest how quickly men be gon So thus farewell myne owne good Ihon From Court dispatche thee if thou maie That we maie meete ere Easter daie FINIS Of an iniurie by saunyng freendes I Saile with shaken Shippe through swellyng seas to saffeties shore And scape the scornefull whippe that lyes in waite to scourge me sore And hauyng winde at will in scoulyng clouds I leaue disdaine Yea more by happ then skill I beate the bellowe backe againe That would orewhelme my Barke and swallowe vp the silly boate Ere that the full sea marke had set the tossed ship a flote In deede the gale is good and God that gides the sterne and all At ebbe hath sent a flood where tide was neuer thought to fall Packe hence ye Pirates proude the fleete is gone ye get no pries When ship as swift as cloude from weltryng wau's a lofte doth rise And cutts the waters wilde like sieth that shares both grasse corne In sothe you are begide to lurke in creeks and fishe for scorne When hoffyng sailes are hoiste and shipman hath escapte the race Greate folly for a Foist through floodes to followe on the chace Your painted Galleis gaie till caulmes doe come dare sturre no ore Then crepe close vnder baye and hide your heads when seas do rore O busie bablars all your tattlyng tournes to trifles still And though you brede a braule the worlde maie se ye want your wil I haue out saild you cleane and plaste my self in Princes traine And keeps a merrie meane when you in discord beates your braine Wherfore your iarryng partes doth sho frō whence your notes doth ryes Ye want the cunnyng artes to blind my witts or bleare myne eyes The more you strain your voice to bryng good Musick out of frame The lesse you maie reioyce to see how I haue founde the same And so with smilyng songs I laugh and leaue you more and lesse And put vp many wrongs that tyme and Fortune maie redresse FINIS ¶ Of the quietnesse that plaine Countrey bryngeth EMong the rustie rockes bothe rough and harde by kinde Where weather beats and stormes are brim for eche small blast of winde Where spryngs no forraine fruites nor deinties are not sought Where common pleasures made for man are not in Marketts bought Where growes no grapes of wine to glad the griped breast Nor stands no bowres to banket in yong wantons for to feast Where people are not fine nor yet no fooles I trowe But plaine as in the twoo pickt staffe and plainly doe thei goe I settled am to liue and likes my lotte as well As thei that haue a richer home or with greate Princes dwell Now finde I eache thyng sweete that sowre I thought before That in tymes paste did please me moste now me delites no more The toune and stony streets I weary am to tread The feeld but asks a Motley cote as homely folks are clead Now Frese and Kendall greene maie serue in stead of Silke And I that fedde on Courtly fare maie learne to feede on Milke And take sutche countrey chere as easily is maintainde No dishe of gift but sutche in deede as sweat of browes haue gainde No platters full of bribes these mountaines forthe doe bryng A quiet morsell there is cald a bankett for a kyng To eate and slepe in rest to laugh and speake from feare To be an honest neighbour namde is all that men seeke theare No hollownesse of hartes no hautie waies are likte No painted sheathes no Peacocks proude y t haue their fether pikte Are seen vpon these hilles nor in the dale likewise Where those that dwell in cottage poore doe princely halls despise A cruse of cold sowre whey the Sugred cupp doeth passe In gilted boules doeth poison lurke that spied is in the glasse The poore man tastes hym self the Prince dare not doe so Then better is the sured life then doubtfull daies I troe Did not Diogenes set more store by his tonne Then of the worldly kyngdomes all that Alexander wonne Did not that might prince these wordes with tong expres If Alexander were I not make me Diogenes Since kyngs would change their states holds the meane life best Then blame not me where I doe like I seeke to finde some rest FINIS Of a fearfull Dreame IF dreames be true or tokens from aboue Of things to come by happ that shall a rise Or if the Gods haue powre mens thoughts to moue By course of