¶ The vvorkes of a young wyt trust vp with a Fardell of pretie fancies profitable to young Poetes preiudicial to no man and pleasaunt to euery man to passe away idle tyme withall Whereunto is ioyned an odde kynde of wooing with a Banquet of Comsettes to make an ende withall Done by N. B. Gentleman ¶ The Letter 〈◊〉 to the Reader I Haue both heard read oft tymes that Bookes and Cheeses may very well be likened one to the other in this poynt for the diuersitie of mens iudgementes giuen of them For they are wares both to be looked on for loue and bought for money The Cheese once out of the Presse shortly after comes to market to be solde where perhaps it is tasted of many before it be bought And bookes once imprinted are presently in shoppes where many peruse them ere they be solde Nowe ▪ some that haue tasted the Cheese wil say perchaunce t is too drye an other wyl say t is too ful of whaye ▪ the third wyll say the meate is good but it is yll handled the fourth wil contrary say it lookes better then it is Come another he wyl say Berlady t is prety good meate Some wyl say It is litle worth and some wyll say It is starke naught but that is an euyl toungd felow Some wyl say T is Cheese that 's a blunt whorson Some wyl say T wil serue he is to be borne withal Some wyl say T is good meate when one is hungry he is woorthy to haue a peece of it if he can get it when he hath nothing els to dynner Some wyl like it very well and giue money for it he is most worthy to haue it much good may it doo hym And thus of Bookes and so of this my booke among others Some wyl say It is too dry it wants the sap of Sapience neither hath it yenough of the Runnet of Reason Some other wyl say It is too sul of the whay of wantonnesse which in wise mens taste seemes very sowre Some wyll say The inuention is prety but it is yll pend Some other wyll more commend the pennyng then the matter Some wyl say It is prety Poetrie Some wyl say It is meane stuffe And some perhaps wyl say It is bald ryme not worth the reading but that is a malicious Lob for my lyfe Some wyll say T is verse he speakes his mynd plainly Some wyl say T wil passe for Poaetrie let hym passe for cetera Some wyl say It is good enough to reade when a man hath nothing els to doo he may reade it if he can come by it in such idle tyme Some perhaps wyll prayse it more then it deserues and geue coyne for it rather then goe without it Such are best woorthy to haue it and wel may it like them when they haue bought it Well such as like it not I pray you beare a good tongue and let it alone and God be with you I wish you well and perhaps I wyl agaynst the next Terme prouide you some other newe ware for your olde golde Tyll when and euer I wish you all with my selfe the grace of God and well to fare From my lodgyng this .xiiii. of May. Anno Domini 1577. Your poore Countreyman N. B. ✚ The woorkes of a young wit. Primordium The Farmer he that newe breakes vp a ground and dooth not know what fruit the soyle will yeelde The cheapest seede that lyghtly may be found be commonly bestowes vpon that fielde For tryall first as best for his behoue by proofe of that how better graine wil prooue And as I thinke the cheapest kynde of grayne on newe digd grounde the Farmer can bestowe Whereof to reape some profit for his payne are Otes a grayne which euery man dooth knowe Which proouing yll his losse can be but small if well such gaynes as he may lyue withall What sayd I otes Why Otes there are I see of diuers kyndes as some are counted wylde And they are light and yet with them some be in steed of better many tymes beguyld And sure I thinke that wylde lyght kynde of grayne my selfe haue sowne within my barren brayne But t is no matter smal hath been my cost and this is first tyme that I sturd my brayne Besydes I haue but little labour lost in idle tyme to take a little payne And though I loose both payne and grayne in deede my ground I crowe will serue for better seede For as the Farmer though his croppe be yll the seede yet lost will fatten well the grounde And when he seekes for better grayne to tyll and sowes good grayne then is the profit found For all the first that good was for no grayne will beare good fruite but with a little payne So my rude brayne that at the fyrst God wote was good for naught no kynd of fruite would yeelde New broken vp will now yet beare an Ote and as I hope wil prooue a prety field I lyke it tothe better that I fynd the Otes so sowne do not come vp in kynd For surely all the Otes I sowed were wilde and light God wote and cheape they cost me nought ▪ And now if that I be not much beguild they prooue good Otes and will be quickely bought Mary my croppe I reape is very small but what is lost my ground is made withall And when I till and sow a better grayne mine Otes so lost I shall not then repent My profite then will so requite my payne as I shall thinke my labour pretly spent And eke in time I hope with taking payne to make it fit to beare a right good grayne These Otes alas are fonde and foolish toyes which often tymes doo enter in the minde The thoughtes of which giue cause of griefe or ioyes which are so lighte as turne with euery winde And suche wilde Otes I meane wilde thoughts God knowes are all the grayne that in my ground now growes But yet I see that all the Otes I sowde I meane the thoughts that enter in my minde Are not come vp not halfe of them is showde and some come vp are blowen away with wynde The rest that stand are such as here you see which if you lyke then take them as they be These thoughts in deede were causes of such crimes as in my bookes here playne apparant be Which as I sat halfe idle many tymes I wrote God wote at randon as you see Which though they be but wilde lyght Otes in deede will make my ground yet fit for better seede Now I haue thought on thousand causes mo then I haue showne as well of griefe as ioye Some are forgot and those I cannot showe and when I wrote vpon too fond a toye And that withall my selfe mislykte the same strayght to the fyre for feare of further blame But such as these which by desert in deede I here doo terme toyes of an idle head◠Are all the croppe that yet of al my seede
I Of vertue shal I speake how it dooth purchase Fame then some that see may sinful life wil bid me peace for shame Why then what may I write if neyther this nor that nor tother Theame wil serue my turne good faith I know not what I may resolue vpon but what my Muse thinkes best to write vppon I ready am to write at her request For why I playnly see Dame Pallas sure hath sent some Muse to me to helpe me now some matter to inuent And as me thinkes in mynd shee greatly me dooth moue to write some dolorous discourse of lots of luckelesse loue Which since shee so desires I am content to show what passion once a louer pend opprest with endlesse woe And if my Muse agayne doo chaunce to change her mynd then shal you see to her content what matter I wil fynd Now looke what so I write referre it to my Muse and blame not me but let her fault my folly quite excuse And take in worth I craue as shee my mind doath moue this doleâ—id and most strange discourse that first I write of loue ¶ A prety passion pend in the behalfe of a Gentleman who trauailyng into Kent fell there in loue and ventring both landes lymme and lyfe to doo his Mistresse seruice in long time reapt nothing but losse for his labour which losse by yll lucke in lamentable verse he wrote to his beloued Lady which how shee tooke in woorth that restes VVHen I sometyme reuolue within my mynd the sorowes straunge that some men seemes to showe And therwithal consider eke in kinde the causes first wherof their griefes doo growe And then compare their pangues with myne agayne I finde them al but pleasures to my paine For why ech one can make a plaine discourse howe euery sorowe dooth assaile his mynde Then iudge alas howe farre my woes are woorse when none aliue can set them out in kinde And if I could my pangues at large expresse yet am I sure they are remedilesse Why am I sicke yea sure I am not well where lyes my griefe in body or in mynde In both God wâ—t which more I cannot tell and I am sure Phisition none to finde That can deuise to cure my straunge disease saue God and you who may when so you please God knowes my griefe you onely wrought the same I feele the paine though howe I cannot showe God knowes my helpe and you O noble Dame the onely meane to minister doo knowe Oh helpe me then whiles I am yet aliue least that for life I can no longer striue Howe holdes my griefe alas both hot and colde â—ot with desire and cold againe with feare Warme when I doo thy beauties beames beholde and quake with cold to be and thou not there Lo thus I liue tormented as you see and wyll you not some pitie take on me But what is it a kinde of feuer then that holdes me thus in these extremities Yea sure it is a plaine Quotidien that keepes mee styll in these perplexities That day and night dooth so my mynde molest as neuer lets my body be at rest Is then an ague such a straunge disease why many so are sicke and easily curde Yea but the sicknesse of the mynd no ease by Phisickes arte can euer haue procurde Such is my griefe which makes me thus protest vntyll I dye I neuer looke for rest The griefe of mynde why there are diuers kinds of sundry sorrowes in the mynde of man To eche of which the sicke man dayly fyndes a sundry kinde of comfort now and than Yet for my selfe I stil protest my griefe is such almost as cannot finde reliefe What griefe is that That no man feeles the lyke a secret sorrowe that cannot be showne For hidden hurts who can for comfort seeke but he to whom the cause of griefe is knowne Yet fare I woorse who know my strange disease yet cannot shewe it nor yet seeke for ease What may it be some secret pang of loue or contrary some hurt that growes by hate Alas of both the dayly pangs I prooue and that so sore as may be wondred at To bide them both but how that seemeth straunge How Why alas I haue them by exchaunge For why my trade is still to liue by losse I beater loue in hope to gayne good will My brused Barke straunge tempestes dayly tosse and keepe her in the seas of sadnes still And when at last shee comes from forreyne soyle then see the fruites of all her tedious toyle First Merchaundise is Malice without cause and packt within a bagge of bitter bale Then next is bookes of Lady Venus lawes which yeeld small gayne their studies are so stale Then sugred speeches mixt with sowrenes so as all my wares doo yeeld me nought but wo. And thus my shippe once set on sorrowes shore for all my wares I custome pay to care Which done to saue some charges that growe more I beare them home to saue the Porters share For which I thinke I merite mickle gayne I beare God wot with such an extreeme payne And when I come vnto my home at last my luckeles lodge for so in deede it is And that of all my wares accompt I cast what losse by that what gayne agayne by this At last alone in sorrowes shoppe I sit and sell my wares to my bewitched witte Who when he wayes what they are woorth in deede and yit perhappes is oftentimes deceiud In taking Reisons in good reasons steede which in good tast may easely be perceyud He thinkes at first he cannot giue too much for such fine fruite for why there are none such But God he knowes when he a while hath fedde on Reisons sweete ere they be full disgest He soone shall find such woorking in his head as that his hart shall haue but litle rest And if among his Reisons sweete by chaunce he eate a Figge that brings him in a traunce For oft in Figges are secrete fetches wrought some Figges are fruites that growe of foule disdayne â–ª Some of despight and all such Figges are nought yet such be mine which come not out of Spayne But growe hereby but ouer Sea in Rent and thither t was for all my wares I went. From thence it was that all my wares I had and there I caught the cause of all my griefe There fell I sicke ther was I almost madde and there it is that I must seeke reliefe But all in vayne for why I playnly see the heauenly fates doo wholly frowne on me Yet restlesse quite this rest I rest vppon either to die and so my sorrowes end Or els when all my wofull wares be gon God will at last some better shipping send And you deare dame who onely know my griefe will waile my wo and lend me some reliefe You made the Reisons that doo make me loose your liking first at lest in outward showe And you agayne the Figges did make me choose and made me tast to woorke my
gramarian but a scoller small Yet doo the poore a penny somewhat finde and ABC doooth trouble a childes mynde And though the Baker count a Lofe no bredde and Uintner count good Beere no drinke at all And in comparison of a deepe hedde a right good wit haue vnderstanding small Yet poore chawe crusts and sup worse Broth then Beere and wit must serue where wisedome is not neere And though the man that sees with both his eyes dooth thinke a man with one eye sees but ill And he that hath his limmes all sound likewise may thinke the lame on ground must needes ly still Yet one eye sees one legge may helpe to stand and he may sturre that hath but oâ—e good hand But this I graunt a penny sure to be but little coyne to make a mery hart And so I thinke the childrens ABC but little knowledge to a learned arte And small in deede the sauour is I know that by these two is likely for to grow And crustes I thinke doo lend reliefe but hard and cold the comfort that dooth water yeeld And wisdome too from wit may not be spard two strokes in swimming saues a man but seelde One eie sees ill one legge but lamely standes he numly sturres that lackes one of his handes And thus I graunt and therefore now agayne I thinke these summes as good as nought at all I craue and haue my penny for my payne and yet God wot it lendes me comfort small I can ech letter in my Christes crosse rowe and yet in deede me thinkes I nothing knowe I chaw on crust yet ready am to starue I water drinke which makes me cold at hart My wit I see from wisedome quite dooth swarue I striue to swim but cannot learne that art Dimme is my sight I stifely sturre my handes and on my limmes my body numly standes But as I first begun I end agayne somewhat doth well although the summe be small A little plaster doth aswage much payne hee onely blest that needeth nought at all Who countes al summes on earth a summe but small to heauenly ioyes which summe God send vs all Finis ¶ This discourse ended and perused my Lord was somwhat earnest with me ere I should depart from him to write in lyke manner some discourse vppon Nihil and let Aliquid alone which though it seemed vnto me heard at the first yer minding to do my Lord any seruice I could I tooke in hand with the helpe of my Muse to write these verses following VVHat must I doo write nothing no not so of nothing I must somewhat seeke to wryte Of nothing Why What can I write I trowe nothing yeeldes nothing whereon to endite But there are choise of nothings now I see of which I knowe not which is giuen to me But let me see what these new nothings be what matter too they giue to write vppon One nothing is as I remember me a new nothing which many a day agen Children were woont to hang vpon their sleeues now let me see what this new nothing giues Ah now I find it showes a prety iest when children cry be it or Gyrle or boy To still them strayght and make them be at rest new nothing is a pleasant prety toy So new nothing I see when children cry is a fit member in the nursery No more of new nothings but now againe an old nothing there is and what is that That men doo vse and some vnto their payne doo learne to know the meaning of that what Twixt creditours it is as some men say a few fayre woordes where is no coyne to pay Besydes these nothings now a thyrd there is which some doo nothing to the purpose call That nothing to the purpose now is this when wisemen fall in talke among them all If some odde foole doo seeme to prate and clatter and all his talke tend nothing to the matter Now a fourth nothing I doo call to mynd and that is nothing in comparison The meaning of which nothing this I find an entrance nothing to that which is done A penny to a pound will seeme so smal as in manner seemeth naught at all Another nothing now is nothing thought as when a man that hath a thing to doo Dooth thinke it easie as a thing of nought and yet when that he sets himselfe thereto He findes his nothing such a some in deede as more then he can well dispatch with speede One nothing more that nothing is in deede where credit coyne nor wit nor wisedome is New nothing old nothing nothing to stand in steede nor nothing in comparisson I wis These nothings now my selfe I thinke possesse and I beleeue fewe men that can haue lesse Now nothing thought is this my fond discourse of all these nothings clapt together so Then which I thinke there can be nothing worse and may therefore for nothing iustly goe Yet who the like dooth set himselfe vnto shall finde a foolishe peece of woorke to doe And thus my Lorde I must confesse in deede I showe my nought or no capacitie To giue your Lordship such a toye to reede as dooth coutanei nothing but vanitie Yet since to write of nothing I was wild your Lordshippes hest I hope I haue fulfild If not so well as dooth in deede content I pardon craue my will did wishe the best If I had knowne what had your lordship ment To haue had done I should haue soone been prest To beate my braines according to my skill for to haue writ according to your will. But since my theame was nothing els but this a baâ—e nothing for to endite vpon If I by chaunce haue wrote somewhat amisse And haue besides the rules of reason gon I stande in hope your Lordshippes noble minde will pardon all which nothing worth you finde Finis ¶ This discourse finished and deliuered vnto my Lorde after some talke had with his Lordship I tooke my leaue of him and returnde home to my lodging but by the way I chaunced to passe by three or foure gardens loking ouer a Pale into one of the sayd gardens to take the sweete ayre of diuers floures and herbes that grue neere vnto the pale Iespyed sitting on a Cammamell bancke vnder two or three trees to shade them from the parching heate of the sunne three gallant ladyes of which one so farre in beautie excelled the rest as my thought I could not content my selfe enough with the singular comforte of her sweete countenaunce but let this suffice that I stoode there gazing til the sweete soule to my extreme sorrow and hartes griefe departed the place and then wyth a heauie hart as I coulde I returnde to my lodging where long I had not been but my Muse came to me and seeing me sit in that solempne sort wyld mee write somewhat of the cause of my dumpes I not knowing what to write in that perplexitie of mynde wrote as my Muse bad me in praise of the garden for the
you may suspecte that I would seeke to wyue and seeking now to wyue I better were to chuse a shrowishe wench then sheepish shut which reason woulde refuse Sus. In deede you misse not muche for hee that well doth know the differeÌ„ce twixt shrowes sheepe wiâ—l chuse the womaÌ„ shrow Sim. Yet I haue herde some say that both in charge doo keepe they founde more ease and profit to by keepyng of theyr sheepe Sus. But take my meaning right and I can easely show how that a sheepe can not compare in goodnes with a shrow Sim. I pray thee say thy minde that reason woulde I see twixte shrowes sheepe to make plain proof that shrows should better be Sus. Then Simon marke my woordes a shrowe may haue a face as faire as sheepe and fairer too and beare as good a grace Sin. Yet some will say that shrowes are long chinde sharp nosâ—e and froward frowning marres their face wheÌ„ they are il disposd Sus. But frownes are quickly gon when sulleine skouling sheepe wil pout and swel and in their mynds will malice longer keepe Sim. No sheepe are kinde of hart who rather seeme to dye to haue vnkindnes offerd them then skoule so sulleinly Sus. Yea some I thinke in deede put finger in the eye to counterfeit good nature so somtyme without cause why Sim. Yea say you so in deede haue women such odde shiftes Sus. Yea men and women both sometyme doo vse deceitful drifts But as I sayd of shrowes although they frowne a while yet by and by their anger past they will as kindly smile Sim. In deede Sus. sulleine sheepe are woorse then any shrowes but of the two if one must chuse the choice is hard God knowes Yet wenche I pray thee on some other reason showe to shewe the badnes of a sheepe and goodnes of a shrowe Sus. Why Shrowes will saue a sheepe and gayn perhaps a Hog when sheepe can scarcely saue themselues without the shepherds Dog Sim. Sheepe doo nought but giue suck vnto the litle Lamme and if she be a lambe her selfe then shee must after damme and if shee be well kept perhaps shee will seeme fayre but if shee fall a litle sicke her beautie soone will payre Besides they subiect are to many sicknesses the cough the rot and many mo too tedious to expresse and if they fall once sicke what cost with phisicke then such cost as if they lye long sicke vndooeth many men And yet when all is donne the peeuish hielding dye and then must mourne for loosyng of a foolish harlotrye Sus. When shrowes can tend the sheepe and looke vnto the lambe and now and then as duetie wils they wil vnto the damme and when they finde them selues or sicke or yll at ease a pynte of Malmesey phisicke is that cureth their disease a cuppe of ale and graynes a posset of good sacke will make them mery at the hart and strengthen wel the backe and more halfe dead to day tomorrow vp agayne about the house as mery as if they had forgot the payne not puling like a 〈◊〉 that if her finger ake Must haue her dinner in her bedde with a white buttarde Cake And for a seâ—â—ightes space keepe her bedde euery day And so doo spend her husbandes thriht and take no care which way And when shee comes abroade goe puling vp and downe Husband in fayth I am not wel when make you vp my Gowne Shall I goe like proude euery day and Sondaies in the same Good Sim. if you serue me so you are too much too blame And thus gay geere is all they set their mindes vppon But thinke not how the world will goe when coyne is spent gon Now many other things I could as easely show To proue a sheepe may not compare in goodnes with a shrow Sim. Berlady Sus. well sayd thy reasons well approue Commodious shrowes far more then sheepe doe iustly merite loue And wert thou such a shrowe as so wouldst saue a sheepe I soone would wishe my selfe the charge so good a shrow to keepe Sus. If and or but and such are woordes for Lawyers fit Who will not venter at a marke is neuer like to hit Of women sheepe from shrowes are hard to be espide What thing can perfectly be knowne till it be throughly tride Sim. Nought venter nothing haue in deede so some wil say But some in ventring oft to farre doo woorke their owne decay And he that takes in hand to venter on a wife Is like to gayne by ventring so a woe or ioyfull life Now then ere a man chuse he had neede well to know The disposition of his wife if shee be sheepe or shrowe But to the purpose Su. that first I ment to say And that which was the only cause that made me come this way For to be playne is this be thou or sheepe or shrow A sheepe thou art not out of doubt nor greatly shrow I trowe This is my minde my wenche now I would seeke to thriue And that I thinke no man can doo vnlesse he seeke to wiue And hauing now desire to wedde and take to wyse a wiâ—e With whom to liue vppon myne owne and leade an honest life And yet not hauing set my loue on any one Mine owne good Susan now that we be both here al alone I pray thee tell me now coulde such a shrow as thou Content thy selfe with such a sheepe as I how sayst thou now Sus. A sheepe nay by the Roode I rather would haue guest you more a Hog like then a sheepe But touching your request I thus doo answeare you it lyes not in my hand What pleaseth God I must of force with that contented stand And if you can content your selfe to match with me I doo not thinke a matter small should make vs disagree Sim. Giue me thy hand of that Sus. Nay soft bar handes I pray Sim. No hand why then I see we shall no bargayne make to day Sus. Bargayne why no. Sim. soft what bargayne should we make I haue no ware for you I must at market mony take Sim. Yet would I cope with you for some ware that you haue that you will not at market sell. But pray thee let me craue thus much yet at thy handes thou wilt not angry be what ere I say for in good sooth I doo but iest with thee Sus. Then if you doo but iest it may be as you say we are not like as I doo think to bargayne sure to day Sim. Tush Susan you take me wrong I sweare vnsaignedly giue me thy hand and we will make a bargayne by and by Sus. Oh Sim. I say barre handes le ts heare the matter fâ—rst For some I know with wringing hands their giuing hands haue curst But say your mynde and then I will contented stand if that I lyke the bargaine well to let thee haue my hand Sim. Then bargayne we or not the matter wench is this I fayne would haue the for my wyfe
Ladyes sake whom I had seene there and yet for letting her goe so soone fell out a little with it in verse as followeth IF one may praise a place for harbouring a guest in whom the stay of his delight and chiefest ioye dooth rest And eke may curse the place that harbouring her so vnto his dolour deepe againe to soone did lether goe Then let me praise the place where lodged my delight And curse it to that let her goe so soone out of my sight Short was the tyme God wote I did her sight enioy by want of which I feare long tyme to liue in great anoye Foure or fiue houres were all that I and that but feeld this gallant Lady now and than by fits sometyme beheeld But from the 〈◊〉 first that I beheld her face God knowes within my wretched hart how beautie hers tooke place Mine eye grue bladshed strayght for Cupid hit the vaine that goes downe strayght vnto my hart and there begunne my paine Then gan my stomacke worke my braine distempred to thus greeued in eye head and hart I knew not what to doo But to content my selfe with comfort now and than of her sweet lookes aright reliefe for such a wofull man Which came alas but seeld yet euer when they came God knowes I cannot shewe the ioyes I reaped by the same But what I goe too farre I ment to prayse a place for harbouring a heauenly dame for beautie and good grace And I am telling of the franâ—icke fittes of loue and of the hurt I caught thereby and pangs that I doo proue But I will leaue it now and speake somewhat in prayse of such a place as dooth deserue due prayse a thousand waies What place is chose as chiefe to breede the minds delyght that was the place wherin I first did gayne this Ladies sight Some thinke for gallant show the Court can haue no peere but I more gallant count the place where first I saw my deere For gold and Iewels rich some speake much of Cheapside but there a Iewel that may make them all their Iewels hide Some loue in Paules Churchyarde to spend ech day by day to see of learned vertues lawes what auncient writers say The vertues of my booke I cannot well declare but I beleeue what so they be it showes them all that are It prudence playne descries it loues no wrong at all it Fortitude dooth much commend but temperate withall I tell you of a booke but trust me t is a dame who what I say in ech respect dooth well approue the same By vertuous noble mynd by comely courtly grace blest be the booke woorthy the wight and happy be the place Some counts the Painters shop for pictures fayre and bright and fine proportions a place the minde for to delight Then come and heere behold no foolish painted peece but liuely dame that soone may staine Appelles work in Greece Some thinke where Musicke is that place for to be best the doleful minde for to delight and set the hart at rest For musicke sweete alas no melodie I deeme so sweet as my sweet mistresse voyce that musicke I esteeme Some thinke that Gardens sweet with flowres hearbes trees with knots and borders sets slips such like toyes as these To be the chiefest place for to delight the minde and there doo seeke in saddest moods some solace for to finde Their Iudgements like I wel for trust me I thinke so that such a place wyl soonest rid the mournyng minde of wo. And in such place I meane in Garden sweete I founde by sight the chiefe of my delight yet causer of my wounde My mistresse deere I meane the comfort of my hart and yet againe by absence now the causer of my smart By her againe I sawe in Garden where shee sat fayre flowres sweet hearbes braue trees fine knots borders too but what Upon my mistresse stil was fixd my stedfast eye no flowre nor hearbe knot border tree coulde make me looke awry Untyl at last too soone alas shee went away and then for sorow howe I sighd for shame I may not say But should I shame my selfe thus much I would protest her then departure from my sight yet breedes my harts vnrest Ha gallant Garden yet which once with sweets didst hold so braue a dame whose worthy prayse can neuer wel be told It 〈◊〉 gramercy yeeld that with the pleasaunt smel of thy sweete flowres couldst finde the meane to keepe her there so wel But hadst thou kept her stil where now I geue thee praise I would in hart haue honord thee til death should end my daies What could no gallant ant tree nor yet the pleasaunt ayre of sâ—me sweete flowre make her desire againe to thee repayre Surely some stinking weede among thy hearbes doth grow that giues yâ—â— sent that caused her for to mistike thee so Or from some fruitlesse tree some Catterpiller fell vpon her lap to her mislike somewhat she likd not wel I knowe not what it was but many things I doubt but what it was what so it was I would it had been out If that it were a weede God soone destroy the roote if noysome sight of fruitlesse tree God lay it vnder foote If Catterpiller fel to woorke her harts annoy I craue of God through all the world such vile wormes to destroy And chiefely in that place that none may there remayne if euer she to my delyght doo chaunce to come agayue If neyther these was cause I know not what to say but curse thee in my hart for that thou letst her go away But since that shee is gon to thee a flat farewell and I my selfe from pleasant sweetes in dolefull deâ— will dwel And thus till she returne quight voyde of all delight adue to thee farewell to her and foule fall fortunes spight Finis ¶ Now by that tyme this discourse was full finished it grue somewhat late in the nyght wherevppon I growing somewhat drousy had rather desire to rest then write any more wherupon my Muse left me and I layd me down to sleep and being a sleepe I sodaynly fell into a most straunge dreame which in the morning awake I cald to mynde and as I could I put it into verse in order as followeth A peece of a Preface before the dreame Straunge are the sights that some in sleepe shall see and straunger much then haue been seene by day For proofe whereof you heere shall heare of me as I of late halfe in a slumber lay A most strange dreame I sodaynly fell in which dolefull dreame marke well did thus begin The dreame followes IN lucklesse land a wofull tale to tell where neuer griefe of any pleasure grue Where dire disdayne and foule despight doo dwell and of such churles a currish kinde of crue It was my hap me thought not long agoe to trauayle through the wildernes of woe And walking long about this wildernes at last vnto a huge great Heth