In it we take our ende The Sommer whiche doth repe Our sede both corne and frute Alas to hot this heate to hot With men thus goeth the brute And as with sommers heate We doe complayne and scoulde So do we wayle on wynters there And blame hym for his coulde No welth without some wo No Ioy without some care No blysse without his dolefull bale Thus wretched men doe fare We seke for sugred welth As we should aye dwell here The bytter galle of mysery Therfore doth strayte appere The wyne that cheres the hearte Doth ofte tymes vexe the brayne And woman made was for mans helpe Who doth hym ofte great payne Sometyme we call for dryth Some tyme we aske for rayne Some tyme we saye we haue to much Of eche thus we complayne In musyke we delyght And calle for it some tyme Wherof we sone be wery lo And blame our selues of cryme And iudge our selues to be Both vayne fonde and vnpure Because our myrth without sorowe No long tyme doth indure And whyle this dredfull care Had fraughted thus my breste I me bethought what myght be founde To purchase here moste rest And that we myght let passe With lesse disease of mynde These contraries that vs assaulte Of so repugnant kynde And temperance was the thyng That then came to my thought A better ayde in suche a case Is no where to be sought And therin seke to fynde The wyll of God aboue And doe the dedes prescribed vs Within the lawe of loue ¶ The iust innocent complayneth on sclanderous tongues LIke as the larke within the marlions foote from solace supplanted it were with me if thou lord wert not my buckler and boote at whose hand I hope saluacion to see My hope and helth lord is only in thee My castell of comfort my shylde and defence From sclanderous tongues Lorde delyuer me That thei no iust cause haue through myne offence So shall their deceites turne to their own shame Although for a tyme they chance to preuayle When truthe shall be tryde and vtred by fame Their falshod may faynte and vtterly quayle For they doe reporte that I neuer did My iudgement and cause I yelde vnto thee That out of this wo ryght fayne would be ryd And neuer did why so sclandred to be Oh mercifull lord creator of all I doe remember men sclandered thee Great diuell and Belzebub they did the call Thy myracles dayly though they did see If thou se it good thy seruant to trie By sclander of tongues and vntrue reporte For pacience thy gifte to suffer I crye Rememberyng thee my selfe to comforte For helpe at thy hande I only resorte Resolue their harde hartes and cause them relent For they that loue euell doe alwayes suporte All suche as to lyes and sclaunder are bent Yet if thy wyll weare that they myght repent Confessing their fault their falshod and guyle To comfort somwhat the poore innocent That falshod and lyes hath put in exyle Thy glory so should we largely expresse And teache it to men and cause them to feare Whiche were for this crime a perfect redresse For nothyng so much could make theÌ„ forbeare Thus all my whole cause to thee I commit My matters with thee I alway decyse Iustly in iudgement because thou doest syt And ryghteousnes is thy whole exercyse O lord geue theÌ„ grace to leaue ther great crime And me for to suffer walke without blame So wyll I endeuor from tyme to tyme To blesse and to prayse thy most holy name The innocent sclaundered complaineth praying for the conuertion of his enemies AL coÌ„fortles lo without any ayd now shuld I remayn if God wer not he which in y e defeÌ„ce of good meÌ„ hath sayd in all their distresse their helper to be My hope is therfore sure fixed O lorde That thou dost abhorre all vntrue reporte And as thou dost byd in thy holy worde All only for helpe to thee I resorte From thee O good lord ther is nothyng hyd Prouoke them by force their lyfe to refrayne For they doe reporte that I neuer dyd Accepted of suche as lyes doe maynteyne Good lord let not them their purpose obteyn Which in these my days wold turn me to shame Not that I refuse to suffer the peyne But only that it turne not to their blame My harmes be heinous wheÌ„ they me defame But yet the moste harme to them doth returne When they vpon me doe reporte the same That they can not proue it maketh me morne Lo thus am I bent in good part to take The sclander of tongues rememberyng thee Contented to suffer all thynges for thy sake For vengeance only belongeth to thee Oh mercifull Lord I render therfore To thee condygne thaÌ„ks which art my defence O strengthen me then good lorde euer more That I may styll suffer with pure pacience And finally graunt oh mercifull lorde That these false lyers may turne and conuert And being instructed by thy swete worde They may be ryght sad and sory in heart To God our Creator and lord omnipotent The Father the Sonne and the holy ghost Thre persons and one God most excellent Be all prayse and honour as worthy most ¶ The complaint of Christ our sauiour agaynst the Ingratitude of mankynde THys of the Lord is the complaynt Of man how he was sold and bought And thus he sayd hym to attaynt Myne own people what haue I wroght For towards me thou art so faynt And I thy loue so dere haue bought Thy answer loke thou nothyng paynt To me for why I knowe thy thought Haue not I done all that I ought Or els what haue I left behynd Thou sterst my wrathe I hurt thee nought Why art thou to thy frend vnkynd I sought thy loue it was well sene When I thee made so lyke to me Myne earthly workes both quicke and grene To thee I gaue bothe fruite and tree From Pharao that was fierce and kene Out of Egypt delyueryng thee I kylled hym and all hys men And the redde sea in twayne dyd flâ—e Which I commaunded drye to bee The water serude thee and the wynde From bondage so I made thee free Why art thou to thy frend vnkynd Full forty yeares in wyldernes To wyn thy loue I dyd the lead Toward a land of great ryches With Manna also I thee fed To thee to shewe my great kyndnes Thy kynde to take I had no drede I left my myght and toke mekenes Myne owne heart bloud for thee I bled To buy thy soule my selfe I led And bound my selfe thee to vnbynde Thus with great pâ—yne thy turne I sped â–ª Why art thou then to me vnkynde For thee I ordeynd Paradyse And shewde to thee my Testament And thou agayne dydst me despyse In breakyng my commaundement Thy synnes were great in dyuers wyse For to my foes thou dydst consent Downe I thee thrust thou couldst not ryse Thy wyts from thee away they went A naked wretche poore shamd and shent And as for
to doe and worke my wyll In that whiche I saye the vntyll Their pryde they name nowe cleanlynes And auarice is polycie So doe they name wrath manlynes And loue they call vyle lecherie Namyng enuie good memorie They call glutony fare honeste And slouth they call naturall reste Extortion lawfull gettyng Idolatrie catholyke fayth Vsury is wytty wynning Vyce is vertue as eche man sayeth But in the truthe who nowe hym stayeth Rebellyon is common welth And manly shifte robrie and stelth Oppression is good gouernance Crueines is seueritie The prodigall their dedes aduance And call it lyberalytie And Sodoms synne is chastitie Among those whiche compte mariage synne Whose wickednes wyll neuer blynne Some lyue in wylfull pouertie And beggers haue the proudest harte Thus wade they in hipocrisie And idlenes for the moste parte Whiche causeth vertue to departe For idlenes the mother is Of all mischiefe and thinges amys It is a thyng ay incident That eche man hath felicitie On some one thyng the mynde is bente In wysdomes schole or in folye And doe their myndes wholy aplye That they may it attayne and gette Wheron theyr harte is fyxte and sette The couetous delyghte in goulde The lechour in his fleshly luste The proude would haue all men beholde Their painted shethe of dounge and duste The slothfull sleape and slomber muste The wrathfull and the enuious noye Whose whole delyghte is to destroye The glutions loue their panche to fyll The dronkards doe delyghte in drynke And eche of these to haue theyr wyll No coste nor charge to greate they thynke Thus in a fansie all men synke And eche mans care is to aspyre Vnto his luste and hartes desyre Some studie in Astronomie Delyghting to beholde the sterres Some in musyke and harmonie And cosmographie some preferres Some in fygures some in numbers Some doe delyghte philosophie To knowe on earth eche herbe and tree The fowlers haue their whole delyghte To deuyse engyns byrdes to take Suche as in fyshing haue a syght They angles and their netâ—es wyll make And take great payne for fansies sake The faulkners hauke is his pleasure The hunter wyll good houndes procure In all thynges either good or yll That man doth folowe or embrace Felicitie they haue and wyll Their hartes desyre for to purchace Then happy are they whiche by grace Loue vertues supernaturall Whiche bryghtly shyneth aboue all Ye happy are those men I saye That haue in vertue their delyghte For in their sorowe they wyll praye For helpe and ayde to God almyghte And in their myrth their fayth moste ryght Doth cause them noty psaimes to synge And spirituall songâ—s to his praysyng As vyce doth cause delyght in synne To folowe all iniquitie And alwaye seketh waies to wynne Mens souls in wretched vylaynie So vertue in the contrarie Doth by all meanes hir selfe behaue The soule of man to blesse and saue O then you that my seruantes be In me haue all your exercise And as ye doe delyght in me So looke that yâ— doe enterpryse All good thynges vertuous and wyse That by your badge it may be sene That I am your lady and quene Suche as in carnall loue reioyce Trim songes of loue they wyll compile And synfully with tune and voyce They syng their songes in pleasant stile To Venus that same strompet vyle And make of hir a goddâ—s oere In lecherte that had no perc A booke also of songes they haue And Venus court they doe it name No fylthy mynde a songe can craue But therin he may finde the same And in suche songes is all their game Wherof ryght dyuers bookes be made To nuryshe that moste fylthy trade I will that my seruantes therfore Shall be as apte me for to serue In prayse of God sinne to abhorre â–ª And from me Vertue not to swerue That they may godly fame deserue Of good men here and after this To reigne with God in heauen blys As prayer in sadnes is mete In myrthe so godly songes to synge For Christen men to this is fytte I charge thee therfore with this thynge That thou thyne exercise doe brynge To make a boke of songes holy Godly and wyse blamyng foly To whiche boke godly men may adde From tyme to tyme as they see cause Ryght sober songes godly and sadde Compyled of gods holy lawes Of vertue and wyse olde sayd sawes That may to goodnes men procure Whyle here their lyfe dayes doe indure As thou wilt therfore at thy nede Haue hope and loue and also me Se thou accomplishe this with spede My systers twayne therto agree And then they warned me all three That in this thyng I should not staye But make that booke without delaye My cunnyng small though then I knewe In eche degree my wytte full weake Though lacke of learnyng eke I rue Yet of excuse I durst not speake But granted my poore head to breake About suche exercyse as she So streyghtly had commaunded me At that instant they dyd me kys And frendly did from me departe To heauen they went all Iwys And lefte me with an heuy harte So their departure made me smarte And in that thought I waked thore Merueyling at my dreame full sore In songes therfore sythe I must wade Accordyng as my dreame me â—oulde I wyll delyght to treade the trade That lady vertue sayde I should As blynde bayard none is so â—oulde And fyrste for lady vertues sake A song in hyr prayse wyll I make And then in mo procede I wyll As God shall geue me of his grace My wyt is rude and small my skyll To stande and supplie suche a place Yet must I nedes walke in the trace That vertue did assigne me in Therfore in hyr prayse I beginne The Courte of Vertue ¶ The prayse of vertue AL men that wyll walke in Gods deuine wayes To vertue they must geue honor and prayse For vertue is she by whom they possesse All good fame and prayse that loue godlynes There neuer was man that wan godly fame But doubtles dame vertue was cause of the same Though Abram by fayth was only made iuste By vertue that fay the was knowne and discuste Ye Isaac and Iacob were compted lyke wyse Both faythfull and iuste in their exercise The patriarkes all from Adam to Christe With prophetes and kynges that synne dyd resiste By vertue the praise of faith did obteyne Whiche yet to this daie doth dure remaine Ye Christ by the vertue that in him was sent Aboue all the holy that holiest haue bene To be true Mesias his flock did him know Whiche to this daye doth his foes ouerthrowe And he his disciples then charged eche one To folowe the steps that he so had gone Likewyse his Apostles that since his tyme was The martyrs and sainctes to whom he gaue grace Their light did so shine before the world here That by their true vertue well dyd appere That they were true seruaÌ„tes of Christ their good lord Whom truly their liues did
delyght And alwayes shall be talkyng of Thy greatnes and thy myght Of thyne abundant kyndnes we Wyll kepe memoriall And syng of thy great ryghteousnes From henceforth all men shall For thou O lorde art gracious Yea mercifull and meke Long suffring and of great goodnes To them that doe hym seke To euery man lyberally The lorde doth shewe his loue And ouer all his goodly workes His mercy styll doth moue And they expresse thy glory great Thy kyngoome and thy powre To men that all these myght be knowne At euery tyme and houre Thy kyngdom euerlastingly A kyngdome is ryght sure Thy lordshyp shall from age to age Eternaly endure For in his dedes he faithfull is What so he take in hande His workes he all holy and iuste Both vpon sea and lande The lorde vpholdeth all that are In danger for to fall Them that be downe he lyfteth vp When they on hym doe call The eyes of all on thee O lorde Doe wayte and put their trust And thou dost geue to them their meate In season due and iuste Thou openest thy holy hande Thy powre and thy good wyll All lyuing thynges plentifully Therwith that thou mayst fyll The lorde is righteous in his wayes His workes be holy all And he is nyghe to faithfull men When they on him doe call Suche as feare him he will fulfyll To them their whole desire He will them here and helpe also When they doe hym require All suche as loue and feare the Lorde Them styll preserueth he And he wyll scatter all abroade Suche as vngodly be My mouth shall speake prayse y e lorde And that abundantly Let all fleshe thanke his holy name With laude eternally ¶ The nynth chapiter of Ecclesiasticus or booke of Iesus the sonne of Sirach ¶ The argument OF iclousie who so wyll heare vnto my tune harke drawe nere howe ye shall of the harlottes vyle eschâ—â—â— the sleyght the fraude and guile What mischiefe and what hurte they doe To suche as harken them vnto Howe vayne and vyle adultrie is Howe fonde they are that walke amys Howe we shoulde kepe an olde frend true And neuer change hym for no newe Howe for to leade a godly lyfe In holynes without all stryfe How that a kyng by wysdomes lore Should rule and gouerne euermore Howe eche man should in his degree Se that his worke well vsed be And howe the folysh talkatyue Are the moste wicked folke on lyue To Iesus Sirach geue good eare Whiche telles his tale in this maner Ecclesiast Cap. ix BE not ouer thy wyfe Ielouse but without strife kepe wel thy house Lest that she shewe some point of ill Or wycked sleight the for to spyll Nor tangle not thy powre nor lyfe With a false whore which maketh strife Lest she redounde within thy strength And so confounde thy soule at length Beholde not women vayne nought Whiche vpon men set all their thought On suche I saye set not thy care Lest they betray thee in their snare Abstayne and flee hir wicked waye That loues to geste scoffe daunce playe To hir consent not in no wyse Though she the tempte and ofte entyse Loke not to longe vpon a mayde Least with hir forme thou be dismayde Muche lesse on harlotes then haue mynde Nor on women of suche ill kynde Least thou decaye before thyne age And so consume thyne heritage In townes and cities doe not gase As one whose wittes were in amase Nor wander not in euery strete Least with ill men perhappes thou mete Chiefly of all turne thy face fro The woman gaye whiche worketh wo. Beholde not muche the great bewtie Of any one vnknowne to thee For in tyme past suche fooles haue bene Which with their fonde eyes as I wene â–ª Did so regarde the beuty fayre Of strangers where they did repayre That they decayd through their desire Whiche burned lyke the flaming fyre Wherfore women adulterous Should only be regarded thus As most vyle dounge durte myre claye That eche man treads on in his waye For suche as on them wonder had Were by their beutie tangled mad All wysdom they from them did caste So whot of fonde loue was the blast Lead thou therfore a godly lyfe Couet thou not thy neighbours wyfe Syt not with hir at any sted Lye not with hir vpon a bed No talke with hir make thou at wyneâ— Least thy heart should to hir inclyne Therby makyng thy bloud to fall And so destroy thy lyfe and all Forsake not thou a good olde friende For suche a newe is harde to fynde For a newe friende is lyke newe wyne Whiche is not good tyll it be fyne But when the wyne is olde and pure Then mayst y â— drynke hym with plesure Desyre not the honor therfore That synnâ—rs gayne and kepe in store If thou dydst their destruction knowe Whiche will them once all ouerflowe To suche honour thou wouldst not haste Nor of their vayne welth wysh to taste Of one thyng more warne thee I will Abstain froÌ„ such whose powre may kill For if with suche thou makest stryfe He may sone take from thee thy lyfe Forsee and shurne eche casualtie So shalt thou scape all ieopardie Take good hede of an ill neighbour Least with some crafte he thee deuoure With wyse men be in company So shalt thou gayne great honestie Let iust men be thy gestes alwayes Ioye in gods name and geue hym prayse Be courteous gentyll good and kynde Haue gods feare euer in thy mynde Let all thy workes and talke be bent Vpon the lordes commaundemente Eche good craftes maÌ„ shuld set his wil His worke to frame by discrete skyll Whiche being set before mens eyes Shall cause hym to be counted wyse For eche worke brought to gorgeous end Doth cause all men it to commende A prynce that rightly gouerne wyll Lyke wise of wisdom should haue skyll So well he should wysdom decerne That at his talke others myght lerne Hym that doth many fonde wordes vse A wyse mans parte is to refuse For suche in towne and in citie Doe kyndle stryfe and vylainy They neither weye cause tyme nor place In them is neither wytie nor grace They are past shame I saye therfore Refuse suche men and them abhorre ¶ The maner of true and perfecte prayer instituted by our sauiour Iesus Christe the only sonne of God the wisdom of the father and seconde person in trinitie THe syxt of mathewe if ye reade example ye may finde What praier is and how to vse the same in perfecte kynde For Christ our only mercy seate So soundly hath vs taughte That in his gospell we may fynde Not els where to be sought When thou doste praye sayth Christe our Lorde Se that thou doe refuse The vayne glory that hippocrites Doe in their prayers vse For they wyll in the synagoges Their prayers to appere In open stretes or in suche place As moste men may them here For whiche their folysh vaynglorie That would of men be
preache and recorde Let vertue therfore be had in all pryse Whiche styll to goodnes doth good men entyse And well doth rewarde all suche as hir serue And kepeth nought back that they doe deserue But with goodnes styll doth rychly augmente All suche as vnto hir seruice be bent And neuer doth leue them ne yet forsake Till ended be all that they vndertake She neuer doth sease to spurre them forwarde Tyll they be in blysse of heuâ—ns rewarde Whiche is the whole thyng they seke for and sue That serue in the court of Lady vertue And styll for hir sake doe suffer and byde The stumps and the mocks of suche as deryde Ye hatred and scorne and all kynde of spyghte Of such as in vyce and synne doe delyght But vertue doth tâ—ache to suffer this rage That we may styll passe on in our pylgrimage Considering that we but strangers are here And wander styll towarde our countrey dere And make ouâ— selues lyght from burden and lode Sythe in this vayne worlde is no sure abode No meruaile though then the worlde doth them hate And euer be styll with them at debate For Christ vnto his hath made it well knowne The worlde shall aye loue and fauour his owne And those from the worlde and sinne that remoue It is not possible the worlde should them loue The cause as sayeth Christe of all this whole stryfe Is that from the worlde they differ in lyfe For as in this worlde no mans lyfe is sure The vertuous lyfe shall eternally dure Though here they be murdred and sene for to die Of suche as all vertue and goodnes denye Then howe can we counte them short tyme to lyue To whom lady vertue rewarde doth gyue Whom as sayâ—h Gelasius ought styll to be From teror and dread and wrath euer free Her consolation where she doth bestowe In ryche or in poore in hyghe or in lowe From bondage of sinne she doth them free make Lo thus are her seruantes safe for hyr sake Among the good rootes that depely besette Vertue sayeth Tullie the chiefe prayse doth getie The whiche by no kynde of vyolence may Be hurte or destroyde by nyght or by daye From wanton desyres her seruantes flee all And folowe styll iustice as sayeth saint Paule Faith loue and vniâ—ie well doth accorde In them whiche with cleane hartes â—onor the Lorde Lactancius also would all men remember That they the true honor to vertue doe render With sensing or prayer she honor hath none Nor yet with an Image of woodde or of stone But only with good wyll and purpose true This honor to vertue alwayse is due For he that in Christes fayth doth not remayne In no wyse to vertue may apertayne Vertue refreyneth wrath without measure And also absteyneth from carnall pleasure The frutes of the spiritie as true godly loue Pacience and peace and ioy from about Bounteousnes goodnes and longe sufferance Gentlenes fayth and modest temperance Sobernes continence and chastitie All these in vertues courte officers be Therfore the quene vertue it may well beseme To were a moste hyghe and ryche diadeine ¶ The prayse of faithe Hebre. 11. IF I shall enterpryse to make A due prayse vnto fayth I can in no wyse better that Whiche written is of Paule In his epistle to the Iues marke therfore what he saieth though not eche woord yet wyll I here resite the summe of all Fayth is a perfect confidence Of thynges that hoped are And a most constant certeintie Of thynges whiche are not sene For therby did the fathers olde As scripture doth declare Obteyne a iust and good reporte That long tyme since hath bene And we through faythe doe vnderstande God dyd the worlde ordeyne By Christe his sonne the blessed worde That no beginnyng had By it also howe thynges were wrought We doe knowledge obteyne Thynges that are sene by thinges not sene Were ordeyned and made By fayth also as we doe reade The ryghteous man Abell Dyd offer vp a sacrifice More plentyfull then Cayne And therby had a wytnes true As holy wryte doth tell That he was iust Though he be dead His fame doth styll remayne By fayth Enoch translated was That death he should not see And was not founde for god therfore Had taken hym awaye Before whiche tyme he wan the name A ryghteous man to be Because he dyd the wyll of god And pleasde hym nyght and daye But sure without a lyvly fayth It can be in no wyse That any man by any meane The lyuyng god should please For all that come to god beleue And their fayth exercyse That he rewardeth them that seke Hym with eternall ease By fayth Noe beyng warnde of god Vnsene thynges dyd eschue Preparde an arke and savde his folke As holy scripture sayth Wherby he dyd ccondemne the worlde That synne dyd styll insue And became heyre of ryghteousnes Accordyng vnto fayth By fayth our father Abraham When he first called was To goe into a place most strange Dyd by and by obeye Whiche place though he inherite should As after came to pas When he went forth he knewe it not Nor no part of the waye By fayth into the promyste lande I saye he dyd remoue A strange countrey where he dyd long In tabernacles dwell And so dyd Isaac and Iacob Heyres with him from aboue All these dyd for a citie looke Which God had buylded well Through fayth Sara receiued strength When she was nowe past age To conceyue and bryng forth a sonne That perfect was and pure Because she iudgde the promyser Both faythfull true and sage Lo thus by fayth there sprang great health Where thought was no recure And therfore sprang there forth of one That dead was to esteme As many folke in multitude As are starres in the skye And as the sand on the sea shore Hir ofspryng then did seme The whiche without number to be No creature can deny These dyed in fayth yet the promys None of them dyd receyue But seyng it as afarre of They dyd right well beleue That as many as so it sawe And to the same dyd cleaue Salutyng it by livly fayth None euell should them greue These faythfull men the fathers olde As truthe was did confesse That they strangers and pilgrymes weare Vpon this earthly vale For they that see suche thynges before Of truth declare no lesse But that they doe a countrey seke Ryght hygh aboue this dale Also if they had mynded once The countrey whence they came They had leysour to turne agayne To that whiche they dyd loue But now it shewes they dyd desyre A thyng of better fame That is to saye a heauenly soyle With God the lorde aboue Wherfore the lyuing God hym selfe Estemeth it no shame To be called the God of these And suche lyke godly men For he a citie excellent Hath builded for the same And thynketh nothing ill bestowde That may well pleasure them Who so the texte wyll farther reade To folowe there shall fynde That Isac
and excesse And none can cause them to conuert Wherfore I crye in heauines Lord Christ helpe evry wofull heart Who reigneth nowe but pryde alone Eche man in his owne sight is wyse And graue councell regardeth none But rather doth doctrine despyse Dissimulation and lewde lyes Is nowe excepted as an arte Whiche made me crye out in this wyse Lord Christ helpe evry wofull hart Suche are most wyse and honest now As sonest can their friendes beguyle Suche doth the most sorte best allowe Whose talke is fayre dedes most vyle Simplicitie is in exyle And as for truthe can make no marte Which made me morne crie this whyle Lorde Christ helpe evry wofull harte Gods worde both to and fro is toste As men doe with a tenis ball And wrested from pyller â—o poste To serue mens tourne for sinne and all But fewe from wickednes doe fall In godlynes to doe their parte Wherfore thus crie I euer shall Lorde Christe helpe evry wofull hearte Of wexe they make scripture a nose To turne and wryng it evry waye With many a false and filthy glose Suche as by errors walke astraye The same doe wrythe soules to betraye And from the truthe doe them peruerte Wherfore I shall crye day by daye Lord Christ helpe evry wofull hearte No error synce Christe did ascend But nowe it starteth stoutly forth The seamles coate of Christe is tend And vnitie is nothing worth Wherfore plentie is tournd to dearth And many plagues shall make vs smart Wherfore my crie styll forward goeth Lorde Christe helpe evry wofull heart But sure such hartes as here haue wo And in this worlde doe mone and morne The lorde Christe hath promysed so That they shall ioye his face beforne When suche as here deryde and scorne Shall suffer sorowe for their parte Which â—ewdly haue them selues forlorne Lorde Christe helpe evry wofull hearte Wo be to you that here reioyce Ye shall hereafter wepe and wayle For that ye would not heare the voyce Of Gods worde for your owne aâ—ayle Which although heaueÌ„ earth doe falle Shall styll remayne and byde in quarte Wherfore my voyce shall neuer fayle Lord Christ helpe evry wofull harte For all the byrdes with mery songe And the bryght shyning of the sonne And plesant floures I went among FroÌ„ wo my hearte myght not be wonne To see what worldly men had done For all doe ryde in sinne his carte Wherfore I ende as I begonne Lorde Christe helpe evry wofull hearte Amen ¶ A ditie named blame not my lute whiche vnder that title toucheth replieth and rebuketh the wycked state and enormities of most people in these present miserable dapes BLame not my lute though it doe sounde the rebuke of your wicked sinne but rather seke as ye are bound to know what case that ye are in And though this song doe sinne coÌ„fute and sharply wyckednes rebuke blame not my lute My lute and I sythe truth we tell Meanyng no good man to offâ—nde Me thynke of ryght none should refell The godlynes that we intend But muche rather if they haue grace They will our good counsell imbrace Then blame my lute Although my lute with sentence playn Rebuke all suche as fayne and glose With flatterers and lyces vayne That truthe to falshod can transpose Ye though we sharply speake and syng Against false and craftie wynnyng Blame not my lute And if my lute sound in your eare The priuy hate and larke of loue And howe ye should sclander forbeare Syth gods word doth ill toÌ„gues reproue Though as saint Iames we doe expresse The same a worlde of wickednes Blame not my lute Though my lute doe expres and show That prayet and holy fasting Is tourned nowe with hyghe and low To vncleane talke and banqueting Although we saye that chastitie Be gone and in place lecherie Blame not my lute Though with their own fewe be coÌ„tent Chastly to lyue with one good make But rather the moste part be bent Their constant vowe for to forsake Though some in Sodom rather byde Then honest mariage to prouide Blame not my lute If my lute blame the couetyse The glottons and the drunkards vyle The proud dysdayne of worldly wyse And howe falshod doth truth exyle Though vyce and sinne be nowe in place In sted of vertue and of grace Blame not my lute Though wrong in iustice place be set Committing great iniquitie Though hipocrites be counted great That mainteine styll idolatrie Though some set more by thynges of nought Then by the lorde that all hath wrought Blame not my lute Although eche man finde faulte with other And no man will him selfe acuse But eche man blameth his brother Though he him selfe as great faulte vse Though we see none their owne fault fynde Nor call repentance vnto mynde Blame not my lute Though my lute say that suche as preache And should men leade in wayes directe Doe lyue amys though truth they teache Whiche causeth truth to be suspect Though my lute say suche cause offence Through their great slouth and negligence Blame not my lute Though some gods worde doe still despyse For beggetly traditions Aduancing highly fayned lyes Of mens imaginations Although my lute doe suche accuse As by errors gods worde abuse Blame not my lute Although we see the clergie slack Wrong wayes by ryght for to redres Though some also goe rather back Then procede forth in righteousnes Although we saye that auarice Doth stop the mouthe and choke the wyse Blame not my lute Though offendors be borne withall Although the wolues in corners lurke That haue and will the lambes make thrall And daily doe their false seates worke Though whispryng treason in the eare Burst out somtyme without all feare Blame not my lute Though some also abuse the lute With sinfull songes of lechery Though some goe forth as beastes brute In false treason and trechery Though at eche sermon we may see Gods holy worde scorned to be Blame not my lute Blame not my lute I you desyre But blame the cause that we thus playe For burnyng heate blame not the fyre But hym that blowth the cole alway â–ª Blame ye the cause blame ye not vs That we meÌ„s faultes haue touched thus Blame not my lute Blame not my lute nor blame not me Although it sound against your sinne But rather seeke for to be free From suche abuse as ye are in Although we warne you to repent Whiche grant you God omnipotent Blame not my lute ¶ A song of the lute in the prayse of God and disprayse of Idolatrie ¶ Syng this as My pen obey c. MY lute awake and prayse the lord My heart and haÌ„des therto accord Agreing as we haue begon To syng out of gods holy worde And so procede tyll we haue done Prayse we the lord in this our song And syng it Christen men among That in a godly race doe ronne The whiche although it be not long Shall be right good or it be donne This
reiect What are the frutes of lyvly fayth Whiche are the tokens true Of those whom God in Christ our helth With grace doth styll reuewe Is it not lyfe agreable To that ye teache and saye Howe can ye otherwyse with glose These verities denaye To what end speake ye all these wordes Wherin ye so glory I st not as good of godly dedes To tell an history Who best think you should me perswade Their churche and fayth to loue Or who to folow or beleue Should the moste mens hartes moue Of him that sayde and no good dyd Or he that helde his peace Walkyng a goâ—â— and Christian lyfe Among the 〈◊〉 prease Though faith by hearing come in dede Whiche I will not denye Wordes voyde of workes did neuer yet Worke halfe effectually It is but lyke the flowers gaye That floryshe fayre and grene And wyther streyght as sone as sonne Doth whot vpon them shyne Lyke wytherd haye vpon house tops That many tymes doth growe Whiche sodeynly doth spring and spreade Makyng a braggyng showe But streyght for lack of perfect roote Or grounde wheron to staye It wytherd is that no man can His handfull beare away Wherfore vnles ye preach with works The frutes of wysdom pure Your wytty wordes are vanitie Your ground is nothyng sure Howe some haue geuen vyle offence I nede not here to name For wyse men wyll my meanyng see And doe but reade this same And who so by an others fall Can staye and take good hede That man to be wytty and wyse We shall beleue in dede A buylder wyse vpon the rocke Christ doth hym ryghtly call That doth the gospell heare or reade And doe therafter shall Contrarywyse the negligent That gods worde vnderstande Are lykned to the folysh man That buylded on the sande Of whiche he fyrst was able well All stormes for to abyde Where as the last vnconstant was And subiect styll to slyde Wherfore for Christes bloud I saye Ye preachers all beware And that your lyfe make none offence Se that ye set your care For cursed are ye if ye doe Gods worke negligently And here I ende syth ye do knowe The same as well as I. But he that knowes his maisters wâ—â— Take this for your fare well And doth it not with many stripes Shall beaten be in hell ¶ Against y â— dissimulacion craft vn constaÌ„cie false dealing gredy couetousnes vntemperate catynge and drynkyng and incontinencie of an old man and the cause why the author others forsoke refused the societie of suche one O Monstrous satyre Of insaciat mynde Whose fylthy desyre All vertue doth blynde Can neyther thyne age Nor experience The vyle lust aswage Of concupicence Can not the balde hed With bearde and heare whyte Once stande thee in sted To brydle delight Can not the dimme eyes And nere foure score yeres Once make the despyse That in thee apperes How shall the young man His wayes reforme then As Dauid doth scan When suche are ould men If learnyng nor tyme Nor number of dayes Can scoure away cryme The cause of disprayse Nor scripture studie In suche a long space Made at hande redy Assistance of grace How canst thou thy selfâ— Gods messenger name Syth in this vyle pelfe Thou semest past shame But what man hath sene As yet other frute In suche as haue bene So beastly and brute With God and man to Dissemblyng to lye Where all that they doe Is Hipocrisye For he that wyll cloke The enmies of God And saye they reuoke That God hath forbod To shelde them from lawe And danger of cryme By crafte for to drawe And detract the tyme How shall we hym thinke The brydgroms true frende That falsly doth shrynke From hym to the fende And that to make truse Betwene wolues shepe Good men to misuse That dyd the flock kepe Betwene saynctes dogs What feloshyp is Betwene fylthy hogges And chyldren of blis Betwene the elect â–ª And vyle reprobate Betwene the reiect And blessed estate Betwene good and bad Betwene heauen and hell Betwene subiect sad And traytrous rebell Then those that proteste Suche vyce to forsake Howe can they requeste A peace for to make Making but one churche Of vertue and vyce How falsly suche lurche Is knowne to the wyse If riotously To lashe out and waste Moste prodigally Of deynties to taste The redyest waye be To please God aryght And Gods face to se And serue hym in spryte If to be careles To burden ones frende And to make redres Haue neuer in mynde Borowyng frankly No caryng to pay And somtyme falsly To shyft so away If to be wandryng So fugitiuly Leauyng the lyuyng Sure and constantly Intendyng therby With slâ—yghtes to deceaueâ— With subâ—iltie slye Both to take and leaue If bybbyng of wyne Tyll belkyng boyle out Be the true ryght lyne To fynde heauen out If lasciuious talke Prouokyng to synne Be the way to walke Heuen blysse for to wynne Then fare well saye I All workes and vertue We may well defie All good dealyng true But wo worth that suche Had euer the place That so and so muche The truthe doe disgrace Why takste in thy mouthe My worde sayth the lord That hast from thy youth All vertue abhord Thy lyfe to accord Doste also despyse Myxyng with my word Papystry and lyes If these causes nowe Be full sufficient Suche to dysallowe And from hym discent Also to abstayne Hym to hyde or cloke Hys doynges refrayne And also reuoke My frendes I desyre That they beare wyth me Though I doo retyre And from suche one flee For I thynke the pot Scant whole wyll appere Nor from fylthy spots The water be clere And rather I sure Had lyfe to forgo Then with mynde vnpure Affectionat so With suche one to beare In suche confusion That can not forbeare His frayle affection ¶ A song against the sinful time wherin all thynges are out of order and synne groweth nere vnto rypnes IT is not tyme That synne and cryme Myght cease that ye might mend Can plague nor payne Make you refrayne Nor from wickednes wende Shall eche brother Malyce other Can nothyng you perswade Once to tender Eche good member Whom Christ hath bought made Syth ye professe Of faythe no lesse Then the Apostles all Should you dâ—spyse Thus eche good guyse With lyues most sensuall Can one vessell At once expell From hym both swete and sowre Or can a man Any tyme whan At once both laughe and loure As wolues wroth Your selues ye cloth In lambe skinnes to seme good Hipocrites subtill Haue hartes styll britle Two faces in one whoode Commend they wyll Gods swete worde styll As though they lovd it well Yet they vary Most contrary Vnto that pure gospell In psalmes saying And in praying They seme to haue perfection Yet their delyght Is all in spyght Whiche is a great infection In wrathe and pryde From grace they slyde Wyth fylthy fornication Enuy and hate Excesse debate And all abhomination In auarice Beyond
What happe is thee befall That thou in suche lamentyng wyse To me dydst crye and call Was Satan lyke to vanquyshe thee Or dryue thee to dispayre Or what myght cause thy voyce so shrill Thus to deuyde the ayre My dyamonde moste dere quod I Myne onely luste and wyll Is that thou lose me from thys doubt Through openyng of my skyll What name myght haue thys present hyll Where desolate I stande What kynde of folke are they alow And of what vncouth lande That valey lowe should seme to be Some vyle vnhappy soyle What hyll is thys where thought so strang My mynde doth thus turmoyle The hyll quod she that thou art on Is an hygh diuine mynde From whyche all worldly wyckednes Is separate by kynde And as eche thynge by contraryes Iâ— best knowne and decernde So on thys hylle the vyle estate Of worldlynges lowe are lernde The chyldren of thys wretched world Be those in yonder vale Whyche gredyly doo payne them selues In sekyng paynfull vale Know they not God quod I nor doo They nothyng feare hys force No not all quod she no more Then dothe the mule or horse They feare God as the dyutis feare But fayth or loue is none Philargery they onely serue And set theyr myndes vpon Who as the poets haue feynd doth liâ—â— By fedyng styll of golde And therwith neuer satisfied He wasteth manyfolde Although he dayly doo consume And euer styll deuoure Yet craueth on hys clyents styll To fede hym euery houre Whose labour â—ke is infinite Theyr hunger hath no ho Abundance can not slake theyr thyrst So wycked is theyr wo. Wyth hauyng is not satisfied The heart of auaryce For as the ryches doth increase So dothe the couetyse A hell wythout all order is That realme where suche do wonne A flocke of folke vngodly vent In synfull pathes to ronne A packe of people sekyng gayne And priuate welthe prefer And common wealth doth none seke for But eche dothe it hynder Eche man is there all for hym sâ—lfe The dyuell is for all Hys kyngdome onely doo they seke And thyther shall they fall Saynt Paule hath called couetyse The only roote of synne How then can those men be but yll That walke so farre therin So vnrepentant is theyr hartes As hard as any flynt Nought can resolue or mollâ—ye Or make them once to stynt Great tokens from the Lord aboue Ryght many haâ—h ben sent At London and at Hungerforde And in some place of Rent The elementes to repentance Wyth dyuers tokens calles As hath ben â—ene when fyre consumde The piramid of Paules And other places haue well felt Theyr rage whome I not name Yet se we few whose hartes relent Or repent by the same Whych manyfestly dothe declare That greater plagues then those God hath preparde and redy bent For to consume his foes So lytle fayth is found on earth Whyche sheweth certaynly That the last day is not farre hence But wyll come sodeynly Whych reprobates most damnable Haue cause to doubt and feare But Gods elect doo dayly wyshâ— To see the same appeare Farewell quod she I must departe I haue done thy request As swyft as thought she perst the clouds To wynne eternall rest And I wyth care for her absence And sodeyne presence change A woke from sieape much meruaylyng At thys my sweuen strange ¶ A Poesis in sorme of a Visyon briefly inueying against the most hate full and prodigious Arâ—es of Necromancie Wytchcraft sorcery Incantations and diuers other detestable dyuely she practisâ—s dayly vsed vnder colour of Iudiciall Astrologie FRom out the Rammâ— into the Bull As Titan last gan crall By order in hys endles pathe Ecliptike that men call Whyche pathe dothe so the zâ—diak Iust in the myddest deuyde That syxe degrees therof are founde From it on euery syde When day was fled and night in plate As was natures request I went to bed full hopyng there To take some quiet rest Whyche long before I lacked so Through trouble of myne hart That thus I made my playnt to God Who only knewe my smart Almyghty Ioue graunt now that I. Wyth sleape thys nyght begyle As dyd Vlysses when from care He â—ased was a whyle When most frendly Alcinous Good kyng of Phaeacea Hym sent in shyp tyll he sayid home To hys owne Ithaca Who slcapyng styll was from the shyp Layd foorthe vpon the 〈◊〉 Which wheÌ„ he woke what place it waâ— Dyd nothyng vnderstande Vntyll Minerua hym informde And gaue hym perfect viewe Howe soone he myght in presence be Of Penelope true Hys wyfe most chast which fortune strange To hys great griefe of mynde By dyuers lucke long tyme with held In Homer as we synde But Philomela busyly Recorded so her song That all my shyfâ—es could wyn no slepâ— That would contynue long For as they feyne the thorne so sharpe Dyd seme to touche hyr brest For hyr shryll notes so perst myne eares That long I could not rest Yet in short slepes suche dredfull dremes I gan to thynke and met That when I wakt besyde my wyt It had me almost set Me thought I dyd in medowes walke For my sport and solas Where syluâ—r drops of dewe most swete Dyd cleaue to euery grasse Wherby there ran tyuer fayre Wyth streames so Chrystall clere That at the bothom myght be sene The peâ—lâ— stones appere Aboue the medow was a rock And on that rocke a wood From whiche ran many pleasant springs Into that ryuer good Crossyng the medes they trickled downe As lyfe bloud in the veynes Dothe from the heart tyll eche member Comfort therby atteynes Aboue thys woddy rocke there was A Fielde most plesant grene Where the beautie of natures workes Ryght aptly myght be sene There was no her be nor plesant flowre In suche a Fyeld to know But myght be sene most fruitfully Within thys fielde to grow What should I name the Hyacinthe Or soote Verbasculy The Clouer swete of dyuers kyndes That caulde are trifoly The Brunell and the Bugle blewe Wyth fayre Hieracium The Synkfoyle and the Betony And swete Origanum The Tutsane and Hipericon Asciron and Paunsye The Vyolet and Simphiton And the doubt Daysye The Haries ease and the Paciente And crimsen Pimpernell The Cammocke and the Camomille And Canterbury bell Rosecampany Maudlen and Cost And London touft so red Agrimony and Lyons tooth That Chyldren call Pysbed Odoriferous Serpillum And lady Traces fyne With Yarow Torne twyse Strawberyes And Burnet good with wyne The Lunary the Serpents tongue And Procerpinaca The Adder grasse the Saxifrage And eke Veronica It hedged was wyth Hâ—nysutkes Or periclimenum Well myxed wyth small Coâ—nus trees Swete bryer and Ligustrum The whyte thorne and the blackâ— thorne bothe Wyth boxe and maple fyne In whyche brâ—uâ—â—â—ed the Briâ—ny The Iuy and wylde vyne To long I should the tyme detrâ—â—â— And from my purpose strâ—y If I should â—ecken all the thyngs Within the Fielde so gay Besyde the good prospect for those That knowe Astronomy I
youth thou hast frequented Euery one shall shewe thee hys erronious waye yet shall none of them defend thee ¶ A Ditie declaryng the risyng and setting of the .xii. sygnes of the zodiake one always opposite and goyng down at the same instant that an other ryseth THe Sygnes do ryse and sette At iust instant of tyme Eche hydyng hym selfe when His opposyt dothe clyme For why the Ramme so soone Appeares not in the east But streyght the balance be Gone downe then in the west The Scorpion rysyng The Bull euen then doth fall When twynnes come the Archeâ— On thother syde the Ball Doth passe from vs and so The Crabbe and Goate lykewyse The Lyon and the Water potte Eche fall when thother ryse The Vyrgin in the east No sooner shewes hir face But in Weste the Fyshes Them hyde and so gyue place Thus in lyke order as One in East dothe appere The Opposite sygne then Abstaynes from tarying here Ne yet can one of them Declare hym selfe so bolde Aboue the Horizon His contrary beholde ¶ A Ditie made to the prayse of God by the Author for a pacient to vse after helth attayned who contrary to all mens expectation was in hys handes by the goodnes of God cured Syng thys as Of Ielousye who so wyll heare O Louyng God and myghty Lorde My maker and my gouernour My mouth and heart shall now accorde Thee to worshyp laude and honour As Moses sung thy laude and prayse When through the red sea he had past And Pharao drownde as Scripture sayes As he pursude thy people fast In many Psalmes as Dauid dyd That kyngly Prophet prayse thy name When out of sorowes he was ryd He sung thy prayses for the same As dyd good kyng Ezechias When thou dydst hym to helth restore Makyng hym whole as earst he was To lyue yet full fyftene yeares more As Ionas brought from poynt of death Hym selfe adressed by and by As soone as he could drawe his breathe Thy holy name to magnify And as thy Prophet Daniell From lyons mouthe delyuered For ioye thy prayse and powre dyd tell And Darius the worshipped So doo I wretched synner nowe Hauyng a cause as great as those In thys case execute my vowe Thy mercyes great Lord to disclose Thou bryngest downe to depth of wo Suche as thou myndest to correct And yet thou doste not leaue them so But doste to knowledge them direct As connyes myne and theyr holes make In bankes where they delyght to brede Lyke order dyd my sycknes take Wythin my fleshe so dyd it fede Tyll at last I was consumed And nothyng left but bone and skynne My synncwes shrunke my veynes were fled Not once possyble to be sene Incredible was my weakenes Consumed cleane wyth peyne and griefe But in greatest of my dystres Thy grace was sent to my reliefe Wherfore whyle breath within my breast May moue I shall thy prayse declare And wyll shewe foorth to most and least Howe swete thy grace and mercies are And howe at nede thou art hand To helpe all that in thee doo trust And makest vs to vnderstand Howe faythfull thou art and how iust My holowe caues are fyllde agayn Those runnyngsores are whole and drye And I in ease ryd out of payne In health and strength ryght perfectly All honour prayse and great glory To thee therfore I styll shall gyue And wyll not put from memory Thy grace and mercyes whyle I lyue But wyll all other folke exhorte By all occasyons as I may To trust in thee to theyr comforte And faythfully moue them to pray All honour therfore I render To thee God that of myght hast most O Father with thy sonne so dere And also to the holy ghost As hath ben is and shal be styll To worlde of worldes for euermore Where angels euer with good wyll Doo prayse thee styll out of theyr stor◠¶ An other Ditie to the same purpose and vse IF any man front wo And payne restorde to ease When griefe is gone hym fro With sycknesse and dysease Haue cause with prayse To laude thy name And shewe the same Wyth thankes always Then I most wretched wyght Of all folke most am bounde To cause bothe daye and nyght Hys prayses to abounde Whyche at thys day Haue had reliefe From all my griefe Wherin I lay My pynyng payne and sore Incomparable was As beastes in payne doo rore So dyd I wretche alas Almoste tyll death Would me haue caught At me he raught To stoppe my breath For as a carkas dead I lay in wo and care I coulde not eate my bread So faynt was I â—nd bare But nowe beholde Howe God my Lorde Hath me restorde A thousand folde For where before his rod I carelesse was and wylde Forgettyng my swete God With all his mercies myld I nowe am taught To prayse hys powre And kepe eche howre The same in thought Thus may we dayly see He scurgeth vs for loue True christians to be His mercie dothe vs moue And euer styll Dothe vs procure Ay to indure To doo hys wyll Wherfore I wyll not cease On earthe here whyle I dwell Hys kyndnes to rehearse And of hys mercyes tell And howe that he When hope was past Yet at the last Restored me All godly men therfore That in hym hope and truste Prayse hym with all honour For he is true and iuste And wyll not mysse To helpe at nede And that wyth spede All that are hys Se that both day and nyght Whether ye worke or rest Ye prayse hym for hys myght All creatures moste and least Whether ye play Lye downe or ryse Styll exercise His prayse alway Whether ye syt or stande Whether ye ryde or go On sea or on the lande What so euer ye doo Whether therfore Ye drynke or eate After your meate And eke before All honour to hym gyue For he vs wrought and made And causeth vs to lyue Eche ereature in his trade And dothe gouerne As shypmayster Dothe guyde and stere His shyppe wyth sterne With all our myght and strength Let vs hym magnifie Whych saueth all at length That loue hym faythfully Wherfore all thyng Wyth hart and voyce In hym reioyce And thys wyse syng Glory to the father God that of myght hath moste And to the sonne so dere And to the holy ghoste As hath ben yâ—re Is and styll shall Be ouer all For euermore Amen ¶ A ditie to be sung of musiciens in the mornyng at theyr lord or masters chamber doore orels where of hym to be heard THe hauning day begins to glare And Lucifer doth shine on hie And saith that Phebus doth prepare To show him selfe immediatly And the most darke tenebrous nyght Is fayne to flee and turne her backe Whyche can in no wyse bbyde the lyght But beares away hir mantle blacke Wherfore in tyme let vs aryse And slouthfulnes doo cleane away Doyng some godly exercyse As seruantes true whyle it is day Let vs in no wyse tyme abuse Whyche is gods creature excellent
be Vpon vncerteyne staye Their workes as we may se Doe vanysh sone awaye And those contrary wyse That grounde their matter well Their worke shall well aryse And perfectly excell When mariage then is made For ryches or for gouide If goodes and ryches fade The loue doth lose his houlde If beautie eke so gaye The cause be of thy loue When beautie fades away Thy fantsye wyll remoue For if the cause doe quayle Where one the mynde is bent The effect then must fayle What so therin is ment Then vertue shall be best Who so wyll it retayne All other beyng cest She euer doth remayne For beauty beyng gone Whose dwellyng is not sure Dame vertue styll alone For euer wyll endure And when gould hath his ende The causer of muche strife Yet vertue shall extende And garnysh well the lyfe A good rewarde also To louers doth she gyue In kepyng them from wo A quiet lyfe to lyue If mariage then be wrought On vertue buylding loue No suche thing can be sought To stande without remoue Ye that wyll web therfore On vertue set your cure All contraries abhorre So shall your loue be pure For better were the tyme Of death and of the graue Then otherwyse to clyme A wedded loue to haue For goulde doth cause and gayne Contention and vnreste He that hath moste wyll fayne Hym selfe to be the beste And beautie ofte doth brede Mistruste and ielousy But vertue hath no sedâ— Of suche iniquitie Then happy is the loue On vertue whiche is knytte That styll without remoue Continue wyll and sytte Whiche in this lyfe cause is Of prayse and godly fame And also after this Of heauen for the same ⧠Nomen Authoris IN hope I doe endure Of that whiche I intende Hauing my fantsy sure No false thyng to pretende Hope styll dothe me allure At theyr handes whom I serue Lyke goodnes to procure Lo as I doo deserue A godly warnynge to put all men in remembrance of theyr myserable estate and that they are subiecte to death and corruption Syng this as It truthe maye take no trustye holde c. REmember well ye men mortall From whence ye came go ye shall Of earth god made thy shape formâ— And vnto earth thou shalt returne Remember well O man I say Thou art wormes meaâ—e and very clay Thou art none other thys is iust But earth and ashes dung and dust Remember well though thou be young Thou art nought but a sacke of donng Deferre no tyme tyll thou be old For of long lyfe thou hast no hold Remember well though now thou sâ—me As beautyfull as kyng or quene That when thou shalt departe and dyt Thou shalt rot stynke and putrefye Remember well thou dounghyll dyght With garments gay to please mens syght Remember earth thy first estate Thy lyons harte it wyll abate Remember well that thou shalt come At the last day vnto thy dome Wher if thou doe thy selfe exalt In extreme payne remayne thou shalt Remember well I saye aloude Thou earth and ashes be not proude Suche coste on earth why doste bestowe Leue of thy pryde be meke and lowe Remember and in fyne marke this Who so of hym selfe humble is The lorde wyll hym exalte on hye In heauen aboue the sterry skye The faithfull souldiour of Christe desireth assistance of God against his ghostly enemies HEreout O lorde the right request of him that faine would haue redrest the wronges that are so sore increst with in my soule so sore opprest O lord to thee with wofull crye I call for grace and for mercy And if thou helpe not then truly In deadly wo remayn must I. The world the diuell death and hell With great assaultes against me swell Lorde let thy grace in me excell Against their fury fierce and fell O lorde my God to the I praye Suffer me not to goe astraye And haue in mynde the pryce and day Wherwith thou didste my ransome pay Oh haue in mynde thine own great cost And let not this thy payne be lost In the O lorde my trust is most To dwell among thy holy host Thou knowst wherin my help doth staÌ„d Whereuer I be on sea or lande Good lorde put to thy helping hand Saue me from hell that fierce fyre brand ¶ An exhortacion to brotherly loue and vnitie BEholde it is a ioyfull thyng that brethern should continually together haue their good dwelling in concord and in vnitie This godly loue Dauid lykned Vnto that precious vncâ—ion Which descended vpon the head And into the beard of Aron Whiche being powred on his crowne Was euer more styll descendyng And from his beard it dropped downe Into the skirtes of his clothing And as this precious oyntment swete Did smell all of one swete sauour For Christen brethern it is mete To be all of one behauour He that loues God aboue all thyng His neighbour as him selfe lyke wyfe Fulfyls the lawe in so doyng Whiche Christe would haue vs exercyse For where this godly loue doth byde There present is the lorde Iesus Whiche neuer from his flock wyll slyde It they in loue continue thus Loue not y â— world thus faith S. John Ne any thing conteynde therin For who so settes his loue theron The loue of God is not in hym And none can loue the lorde aboue Whom with our eyes we neuer see If we our brethern doe not loue That alway present with vs be Let loue therfore be among vs And from it let vs neuer swarue As we are lovde of Christ Iesus Muche more then euer we deserue The dewe that fell on Syon hyll The whiche descended plesantly Is nothyng lyke this loue vntill Belovde of god etâ—rnally For god from â—yme to tyme doth geue To this loue his holy blessyng For all that doe with loue beleue Shall reigne in ioye without ending He sayth the lorde that loueth me Doth kepe my lawe and holy lore And vnto him geuen shall be A crowne to reigne for euer more Lorde in this loue we thee beseke To set vs in a quiet staye That we beyng louyng and meke May reigne with thee in hlys for aye The iust and true maÌ„ complaineth that flattery and falshod is more regarded then truthe and reioyseth that he is hated for the truthe IF truth may take no trusty hold nor cleue so fast as flattring sence wel may thy harte poore man be colde for then is gone all sure defence The Nyghtyngale must change her note And of the Cucow learne to syng The modest mynde must learne to dote Or conne some other fayued thyng If meanyng well may take no place Nor dealyng iust haue no regarde Thou must deuyse an other space To fayne suche thyngs as may be heard Shall vertue dwell in such disdayne And honestie be had in hate Then must we learne to glose and fayne Orels remayne in vyle estate But yf there be none other way To purchase fauor and good wyll Better it were I dare well saye In vyle
estate to tary styll What call ye then the vyle estate As some doo iudge this is the thyng If my superior doo me hate And would me to displeasure bryng And that also without desert If reason may the cause decerne And haue disdeyn for my true heart Wherfore to please I am to lerne Yet is myn heart determind sure If truth and reason take no place Of suche disdeyne to take no cure But wyse men rather wyll imbrace For yf wysedome were noblenes As noble byrthe and ryches is Then should not truth be in dystres And flattrye should of fauor mis. So flattrye and bland eloquence Should as they are be compted vyle And truth should then make none offence Nor vertue reigne in suche exyle Blamd but not shamd the prouerbe is And truth can haue none other wrong So may they hap theyr marke to mys That thinke them selues in falshod stroÌ„g Then hated lo I must reioyce And fonde regarde despyse as vayne Closing my mouth stoppyng my voyce From speache in presence of disdayne ¶ An holsome warning for all men that beare the name of Christians to lyue Christianly O Harke a whyle vnto my style all ye that Christians be that beare that name and doe not frame your liues accordingly Is Fayth in syche As beyng ryche Though they doo Christ professe That euery houre Do Christe deuoure And his poore flocke oppresse For we are all As sayth saynâ— Paule Membres of one body Of Christe Iesu â— round of vertue And of all veritie Then the poore man As proue I can Is Christ his member true As well as he What so he be That ryches doth endue Why should ye then To symple men Beare suche despight and hate Syth they be all In Christ equall With you in all estate Christ his kyngdome Was neuer wonne By wealth or hygh degree All though that here Some doo appere To reygne in dignitie Then let none thynke That Christ wyll shrynke When he shall iudge vs all Of all your wealth So got by stelthe You to accompt to call When yf he fynde Ye were vnkynde To your poore brethern dere Then wyll he say Go from me aye Into eternall fyre When I lackt meate And fayne would eate In sycknes thyrst and coldâ— In all my nede Not one good dede That you to me doo wold Then wyll ye say Wythout delay Lord when dyd we thee see Lacke any foode To doo thee good And dyd it not to thee And he agayne Shall answer playne I truely say to you Ye styll oppreste And muche detest The poore my members true When ye therfore Did them abhorre That â—re of lowe degree To me alone And other none Ye did that iniury Saint Iohn doth proue We can not loue God whom we doe not see If we doe hate Our brethern that Are present to our eye Nowe call for grace Whyle ye haue space Your wycked lyues amende And so procede In worde and dede True Christians to the ende ¶ A short song exhorting all men to abstayne from the vse of false weyghtes and measures MY harte constraines my mouth to tell the dutie of eche worldly wight howe they be taught in the gospell one with other to deale vpright with euen weightes ballance iust so doe we must So doe we must this is no naye Also with measure iust and true Who so doth not at the last day Ryght sore are lyke for it to rue When he shall goe for wante of breath Vnto his death Vnto his death when he must goe With painful panges and torment strong Then is he lyke to suffer wo For that his dealyng false and wrong Suche one is lyke in extreme payne For to remayne For to remayne wo worth the whyle That any man so fond should fare With othes his neighbour to beguyle When he should truly sell his ware O wherfore then dâ—o ye vnwyse Prudence despyse Prudence despyse that should so well Lâ—ade you in Godly wayes and ryght And teache you also how to deale With your neyghbours iustly vpryght For he that to amend denayes Thus the Lorde sayes Thus the Lord sayth very certayn Such measure as ye mete to other Suche measure shall ye haue agayn How then yf you deceyue your brother Thynk you that God wyll forget thys No no Iwys No no Iwys ye may be sure For heauen and earth shall ioyntly saylâ— â–ª But Gods word shall for euer dure In force and strength styll to preuayle All false dealers for to expell Downe in to hell Down in to hell therfore take hedâ— And call for gods grace and mercy Amend your wycked lyues with spede Lamentyng them repentantly God geue vs grace so to intende And there an ende ¶ A Ditie declarynge the sted fast hope and trust that the faythfull afflicted soule hath in Christ Iesu LIke as certain the hart wold faine of the fountain obtain the spring so hath my sprite his whole delight in God almight aboue all thing Myne enmies strong All the daye long To doe me wrong Is their intent Euery howre On me they loure Me to deuoure They doe inuent This doe I see For to myne eye It is truly Alwayes obiect With might and mayne Them selues they strayne My soule to gayne And to infect My soule therfore Doth tremble sore And euermore Doth stande in feare And all the whyle Myne enmies smyle Me to beguyle They not forbeare Therfore I say My sâ—ule alway Reiâ—yce and stay Thy selfe in Christ Though men extold Agaynst thee hold In Christ be bold Them to resyst Who is alyue That dareth stryue Strong dyuels fyue Although they were Thys can I proue O Lorde aboue If thou me loue I nede not feare O God of myght Strengthen my spryte That doth delyght Only in thee O holy Lord Let thy swâ—â—e word Wyth one accord Styll be wyth me O Christ Iesu Ground of vertue Messias true As sayth Scripture To thee I pray Graunt that I may In heauen aye With thee indure ¶ A song shewing that no commoditie is without a discommoditie ¶ Syng this as I am the man whome God c. AS I dyd sytte and muse Once by my selfe alone The wretched state of worldly wights The mind was fixed on Howe no commoditie May here with man indure Without some discommoditie To shewe it selfe vnpure By fyre we haue great ayde In colde vs for to warme Whiche in an houre somtime doth burnâ— Rewarding vs with harme We may lyue certayne dayes Without both drinke and meate But without ayre not one moment The lack would be so great Yet somtyme by his rage We mortall men doe fynde That trees houses and cattell eke Are ouerthrowne with wynde The water who can lack That in this worlde doth byde Yet many one therin is drownde By great aboundyng tyde The earth wheron we dwell And seke great welth to fynde In sekyng to possesse the same With iudgement vayne and blynde When we thynke to possesse This earth that we attende Behold the same possesseth vs