howe shee tooke in worth that restes the verses were these WHen Flattery falles to play the â—léeâ—ing Knaue And tryed trust is put out of conceite And cogging crafte by subtill shiftes can haue The gaynes for which doth faythfull seruice wâ—ight Then déepe deceite must néedes possesse the parte That doth in déede belong to due desarte When fond suspect shall cause a faythfull friend To déeme amisse of friend without desarte And coye conceite shall cause a fynall end Of friendship there where friendes were linkte in harte Then double dealing must of force preuaile To winne reward and faythfull friendship faile When men are scornde and shadowes are estéemde And shels are saude and Kernels cast away And deedes be done and wordes for deedes be déemde And outward brauery beares the bell away Then honest meaning must goe chaunge his minde Or else is sure a colde reward to finde But when in déede vyle Flattery false is found And tryed trust doth reape his due reward And deepe deceite is digged vnder ground And cogging crafte can get no tale be harde Then right may haue that reason doth requyre And due desarte may haue his deepe desyre Lo thus deare Dame this for my selfe I wryte My troth I trow your selfe haue tryed well For which alas I reape nought but despight The iust cause why God knowes I cannot tell Except by stealth some fléering flattering Knaue Hath got the gaynes which I deserue to haue Or else perhaps some false suspect hath bread Mislyking some of me without desarte Or coye conceite hath entred in your head To hate the man who honoures you in harte Or double dealing séekes some secreate meane Betwixt true friendes true loue to banish cleane Or else I doubt some shadow of a man In my despight some gallaunt wordes hath vsde On whome I vow to doe the best I can To seeke reuenge where I am so abusde Wherefore good Lady if such any bée I humbly craue hyde not his name from mée That I with spéede may giue him his desarte Or else receaue my iust and due reward For then when you shall see my honest harte I doe not doubt your harte will be so harde But you at last although fyrst somewhat long Will make amendes to me for euery wrong And thus in hope no false and fonde suspect Of liking yours shall cause such sodeine chaunge And that you will such coye conceites reiect As to your friend doe make you séeme so straunge I rest the tyme that reason doth requyre When my desarte may haue his déepe desyre ¶ Not long after seeing his Aduersary still creeping in countenaunce and himselfe almost excluded sitting on a day alone in his Chamber thinking of the despight of Fortune the want of discrecion in his discourteous Dame wrote in haste these verses following OH what a spight it is vnto a noble harte To sée a scabbe without all due desarte With no account of credit nor of fame To winne the loue of any gallant Dame. Which valiant hartes with trauayle great and payne Hauè much adooe long tyme for to obtayne My selfe I count of valiancie but small Yet such as may my credit well defend And such as in my Mistresse honour shall Be well content with spéede my lyfe to spende Which let me spende and spende and spend agayne Yet shall another sucke my sugred gayne With much adoe I once did fauoure winne Of one in deede a fayre and gallante Dame Which my good happe no sooner did beginne But by and by to ouerthrow the same A priuy Patch a whoreson skuruy Knaue Inioyed the fruictes that was my righte to haue His fléering face her péeuish fancye pleasde My tryed troth was put of conceyte He gladde I sadde he well and I diseasde He caught the Fish for which I layde the bayte He idle sate and nothing did all day And yet at night did beare the Bell away But since I see that cases so fall out That valyaunt hartes so little are regarded And gallaunt Dames will séeme to loue a Loute And let a noble youth goe vnrewarded I will no more henceforth such trauayle spende In cases such and so I make an ende Not many dayes after seeing his Mistresse discourteous dealing began to put her away and chuse himselfe an other Mistresse and being then in the Christmas tyme presented his new Mistresse with a new yeares Gifte in this sorte THis little Toye to thée for wante of better shifte I here presume for to present as a small Newyeares gifte The value small whereof weigh not I humbly craue But take in worth his great good will whose friendly harte you haue To vse braue vaunting words will winne naught but disdain But valiant déeds with words but few be they that credit gain Therefore for to be bréefe thus much I doe protest That if to worke your harts content within my power it rest Commaund what so thou wilt if I denye the same God let me neuer haue good looke of any noble Dame. But you perhaps will thinke these wordes are all but wynde But doe not so first trye then trust and fancy as you fynde And let not false suspect once cause you for to deeme That there is any one alyue whome I doe more estéeme But as I doe protest so count me your deare friend Who lykes who loues who honours you so I make an end ¶ A verse or two written Extempore vppon a sighe of a Gentlewoman I Sigh to sée thée sigh the iust occasion why God knowes and I perhappes can gesse vnhappily But whatsoeuer I thinke I meane to let it passe And thus in secrete sorte to thinke vnto my selfe alas Poore little seely soule God quickly comforte thée Who could his sighes refrayne a Dame in such sad sorte to see The cause whereof I gesse but not the remedy I would I could a medicine frame to cure thy mallady For if it were in mée or if it 〈◊〉 bée To doe the thing oh noble Dame in déede to comforte thée My hart my hand my sword my purse which though but smal At your commaund I offer here all ready at your call Of which if any shrinke when you vouchsafe to trye As I deserue disdayne me then and God then let me dye And thus from honest harte as one your faythfull friend In few vnfayned friendly wordes farewell and so an ende Finis ¶ Verses written vpon this occasion a yong Gentleman falling in loue with a fayre yong Damsell not knowing how to make manifest vnto her the greate good wyll he bare her vsing certayne talke vnto her in the end of her talke demaunded of her whether she could or no she answered yea vpon her which yea he wrote these verses following and found time to present them vnto her presently as he wrote them IF thou canst reade then marke what here I wryte And what thou readst beléeue it to be true And doe not thinke I doe but toyes indyte For it thou marke in tyme
day and night Come therefore come with spéede come home agayne To comfort her that thus doth pine in payne ¶ Thy louing Wyfe and faythfull friend And so will bide till life doe end ¶ One sitting in dolefull dumpes by himselfe alone thinking to haue written some dolorous discourse was let by occasion and so for wante of tyme wrote but only syxe lynes and lefte them vnfinished the verses were these I lyke them and therefore thought good to place them amonge other imperfections MY hand here houering standes to write some prety toye My mourning mind for to delight y wants al worldly ioye And Fancy offereth eke fyne toyes for to indite vpon To comforte thus my heauy harte that is thus woe begon But all in vayne for why my mind is so opprest with gréefe As all the pleasures in this world can lend me no reléefe Finis imperfecta ⧠A dolorous verse written by him that in deede was in no small dumpes when he wrote them IF any man doe liue of ioyes berefte By heauens I sweare I thinke that man am I Who at this hower no sparke of ioy haue lefte But leade a lyfe in endlesse mysery I sigh I sobbe I cannot well expresse The gréefes I byde without hope of redresse So many are the causes of my griefe That day by day tormentes my mourning mynde As that almost there can be no reléefe To ease my harte till ease by death I fynde What shall I say what pangues but I abyde What pleasure that but is to me denyde What sappe of sorrow but I dayly taste What mite of myrth that I can once attayne What foule despight doth follow me as faste To plague my harte with pangues of deadly payne Ten thousand Poets cannot paynt the smarte That I abyde within my harmelesse harte And why doe I by pen then séeke to shew The passing pangues that I doe dayly byde The pangues I paynt by pen God wot are few Comparde to those which I on euery syde Am fayne to féele and that is worst of all Without all hope of any helpe at all Then you alas that reade this mourning vearse Waye with your selues what loathsome lyfe I leade And let your hartes some sparke of pitty pâ—arce To see me thus as one amazde halfe dead Striuing for lyfe desyring still to dye And yet perforce must pyne in penury And thus an end of wryting here I make But not an end of mourning God he knowes For when I seeke one â—orrow to forsake Another gréefe a new as freshly growes So that of force my selfe I must content To dwell in dole vntill my dayes be spent Finis ⧠A Gentleman hauing made promise vnto his Mistresse to come vnto her vpon a certayn appoynted day to doe her seruice brake promise with her but the next day following thinking her haste of necessitye so great but then he might come soone ynough to accomplishe such matters as hee was wonte to doe came and confessing his faulte of breach of promise professing it agaynst his wil shewing his earnest desire of more haste craued pardon and recouery of credit loste in verse as followeth THough yesterday I brake my word therby purchasd blame Yet now too day as you may sée I come to kéepe the same And though this be not halfe ynough my fault to counteruaile Yet do not you my word mistrust though once my promise fails For if ye knew the vrgent cause that kepte me so away And therewith saw mine earnest haste to come agayne this day For to recouer credit lost I doe my selfe assure With little sute I should ywis your pardone soone procure Well to be shorte I hope no harte is of such crueltye But that in an offender will regard humillitye And since that noble Ladies all are pittifull by kinde Let some remorce good Lady mine take roote within your mind And doe not me your seruaunt poore for one smal fault disdaine But let me by my due desarte your fauour get agayne And though that once I brake my word in matters of smal weight Yet thinke not therefore otherwyse in me to rest deceight For in a case of credit loe wherein my worde I giue If that I shrinke or eate my word then God let me not liue And if in me to doe you good by word or deede it rest Unto my power I solemne vow doe make to dâ—e my best Finis ¶ A Gentleman being on a time desyred of diuers of his friendes sitting togeather in companye to make some verses which he graunted and yet not knowing howe to please them al and yet willing to perfourme his promise wrote as followeth SOme pleasaunt heades delight in prety toyes And some count toyes most méete for foolish boyes Some greatly loue to heare a merry ryme Some stately styles which doe to honour clyme Some loue no rymes what euer so they bée And some mens mindes with verses best agree Thus euery one hath by himselfe a vayne Which all to please it were to great a payne Which since I sée t is farre too much for mee To wryte what may with all mindes best agrée I thinke it best since I haue nothing don To make an ende of that is scarce begon So shall I well my promise pâ—st fulfill In wryting thus according to my skill Which promise made of myne I trow was this To wryte a ryme and heare a ryme there is Wherein although but little reason be Yet ryme â—â—â—re is and sence ynough for me Finis ¶ A prety Epigram vpon Welth and Will. WHere Welth doth want there Will can beare no sway And where Will wants there Welth can make no way In many thinges Welth greatly rules the roste In some things too selfe will will beare a sway To winne the wager Welth will spare no cost Which to subuerte Will worketh many a waye And in the end let welth 〈◊〉 what he can Yet commonly Will standes the stowter man. ¶ A Gentleman marking his Mistresse angry countenaunce without cause tolde her of it in verse as followeth BY countenaunce of face a 〈◊〉 may fynde I say fayre Dame by outward view of face Such sundry thoughtes as occupye the mynde Sometime by one and este another grace Looke with that thoughtes the mynde is aye possessed Straight by the lâ—â—kes the same is playne exprâ—â—â—ed The frowning face declares a froward harte And skouling browes a sullen stomack showes The glauncing lookes of priuy grutch a parte Which hidden lyes within the harte God knowes The staring looke declares an earnest minde The trouling eye vnconstant as the winde The smyâ—king looke declares a merry minde When smyling lookes are forâ—â—â— from heauy harte For some can smyle that in their hartes could fynde To wéepe God wot of gréefe to ease their smarte But who so smirking smyles with mery cheare That countenâ—unce shâ—wes that some good newes is neare Some fynely vse a wincking kinde of wyle Some looke alofte and some doe still looke downe And
thought I stood coÌ„tent with al. The vsher of the Hall he tooke mee by and by And out of doores too in like sorte he thrust me presently Then euery Iacke an apes that rid vpon an Asse Was readie for to ride me still as I the Courte did passe The Geese and Ganders hist the Duckes cride quack at mee Thus euerie one woulde haue a flyrt ere I coulde get out frée The Porter Daliaunce hee draue me out in hast And thrust me down so harde the Hill my neck was almost brast And vp I rose againe though brused verie sore And ment if once I gat awaie for to come there no more Well limpinge as I coulde I hit the beaten waie Of fooles foote stepps through Forrest back that led me so astraie And backe againe I came to Learninges narrow lane And there I hit The trackt of Truth that I should first haue tane That leaues the Forrest quite which when I had hit on I staide a while and there my walke I gan to thincke vpon And thincking so I saw a scholler comming by That came from learned Vertues Schoole and sighing heauely I calde him vnto me and tolde him of my wo Of my sore fall from Fancies Forte and how I caught it so Which when that he had harde he tooke me by the hande And béeing verie weake in dâ—eacute ede scarse able for to stande Hee led me to a house of Wisdome an olde man His Father as he saide he was and there I rested than This Ientle youth if I doe not forget the same Is Honest Reason so I thincke his Father cald his name Where beeing but a while my tale I gan to tell To him of this my gentle walke whereat he laughed well And laughinge so quod hée go youth here take a booke And write now for remeÌ„brance thine that when thou chance to looke Upon the same againe then thou mayest take heede still Of leauinge Wisdoms narow Lane and follow wanton Will. Lo thus at his commaunde I wrot it by and by And this it was beleeue me now or els at least I lye FINIS ¶ IN DISPIGHT of Fancie AH féeble Fancie now thy force is nothing worth Thou hadst me in thy Castel once but now I am got forth Thou baarst a gallant flagge of lustie brauerie But I haue séene that all thy showe is but méere knauerie Thy Fethers flaunt a flaunte are blowne awaie with winde And Falshood is the trustie Troth that one in thée shallfinde Thy valure is but vaunts thy weapons are but wordes Thou vsest Shales in stéede of Shot and signes in steede of swords Thy Forte is of no force each foole maie scale the same And thou thy selfe art but a flirt and not a noble Dame. As some doo thee accompt I know thee too too well And none but Dawes and Doltes within thy foolish Forte do dwell Thy castell is in déede a Caue of miserie A place in short space for to bring a man to beggerie Thy Forte defended is by Duckes and gardes of Geese By Iacke an Apes Asses too and such gallants as these Thy déepe delight is all in foolish triflinge toyes Thou makest a man in things of nought to set his chiefest ioyes Thy Schoole maie well be called The Schoole of littell skill Thy Schoolers most are waywarde wits that follow wanton will. Thy Lessons lothsome are thy selfe a Mistris too Of naught but Mischiefe which thou most doost make thy Schollers doo Thy Pleasure bréeds Mans paine thy Game doth turn to Greefe Thou woorkest many Deadly woe but few doost lend reléefe Thou makest a man to gaine Dishonour and Defame Thou makest him thinke a Stinking Slut too bee a Gallant dame Thou makest him Hang on hope and drowne in Deepe dispaire Thou makest him like a mome to build High Castels in the ayre Thou makest him thinke Black White when that all is knowne Thou makest him Like an asse to see A fooles head of his owne Thou art The cause of care but comfort very small And so what euer is amisse thou art the cause of all My selfe haue seene all this that I report and more Thou madest mee thinke that did mee good that greeued me ful sore But long I was so blinde thou so hadst dimd my sight That I could neuer see the craft of this thy deepe dispight Till I out of thy Forte was clerely got away And came to Graue aduises house where now I hope to stay Where when I was arriued by helpe of a deere frende Trewe reason one with whom I meane to keepe till life do ende Now when that I came there he did declare to me What ment that foolish Forte of thine and all that I did se. Which when I well had markt I did not all repent My labour in my Iourney so although my cost I spent Because thy nature so and deeds I did discry Which deeds of thine I doe detest and theâ— I doe defie And now vnto the worlde in deepe despight of thee I shew what a vaine flirte thou art that euery man may see I haue set out thy Forte thy Force and eke thy Schoole Thy Vshers too that teach therin a mad man and a foole Thy lothsom lessons too and how by greate good happe I am got out although longe first out of thy lothsome lappe What shall I farther say I haue set out in kinde Eche peeuish poynt I know in thee for euery man to finde Therefore let fall thy flagge and all thy brauerie I haue at large I thinke set out thy subtill slauerie And that in such a sorte as who so lust to réede My whole discourse of thy disceipte will learns for to take héede Of all thy gallant showe they know now what it is Thou long hast liued vnknowen alas but now discride I wis And for my 〈◊〉 thy Foâ—â—e I know so well I swere That I doo meane to kéepe me thence and neuer to come there But if I doe looke vp and follow thee againe Then kéepe me fast within the Forte and plague me for my paine But trust I meane it not with Reason here my freende I meane to liue in thy dispight and so I make an ende And yet before I make a flat ends ere I goo I will dischardge my stomacke quite and bid thée farwell so FINIS ¶ A Foole Dame Fancies man speakes in defence of his Mistris WHat meanes that mad man troe that railes on Fancie â—o That sekes to do hir such dispight sweres himself hirso The man mistakes himselfe it is not Fancie sure That for to fall into such rage doth him so much procure Why Fancie is a fréende to euerie curteous Knight Why Fancie is the chiefest thinge that doth the minde delight Why Fancie was the cause wonders first were founde Of manie fine deuises strange first Fancie was the grounde Why Fancie is the thinge that moueth men to loue And tells the Louers what to doo as best for their behoue Fancie findes prettie
toyes to please each Courtelie Dame Fancie to passe the time in sporte inuenteth many a game To Courtiers many one a good fréende Fancie standes She makes them reape good liking at their louing Ladies hands Shee made the Poets olde deuices to indite Which they in writinge left behinde for other mens delight Shee seeketh vnto none but many seeke to hir And those who are seruaunts still she seeketh to preferre To high degree in time and that in Court perchaunce Shee helpeth them and many waies doth seeke them to aduaunce Now som perhaps againe that are of grossest wit And by their dispositions for Follie Schollers fit Those now perhaps in déede she letteth all alone with Follie onelie to rewarde and them regardeth none But those that are againe of quicke capacitie Who can consider Vertue wise from Foolish Vanitie Such men she chéefelie loues and such although they know hir Shall haue small cause in tract of time in deede for to beshrow hir I may not speake too much for I am partiall But what I haue saide it is true for I haue tride it all And therefore sure the man that rayleth on hir so Hath done hir wronge without iust cause to stand so much hir so Faire wordes are euer best backebitinge is too bad And therfore I doo thinck the man is either dronke or mad That seekes hir such dispight so much without desarte And by hir countenaunce it séemes it gréeues hir to the harte To be so much abusde but what no remedie A wicked tongue doth saie amisse and will doe till he die FINIS THE LAMENTATION of Fancie ALas poore silly wretch now maiest thou wéepe and waiâ—e For now thy Forte is of no force thou canst no more preuaile Fancie let â—all thy flag thy brauerie is discride Thy shifts are seene wherewith thou thoughtest thy self from sight to hide The man is got away whoÌ„ late I entertainde And lo by him I am defamde and all my state is stainde Why did I not him féede with some more sweete repaste Why did I not deuise to dresse some toy to please his taste I put into his drincke too much Drugges of dispight Thou moughst allayd the bitternes with drammes of swéet delight Why didst thou in a rage first flinge him from thy lappe And leaue to féede him any more with worldly pleasures pap Why did I in my rage not speakinge anie worde Take him so roughlie at the first and set him from my boorde And thrust him out of doores in such a scornefull wise Thou hadst bene better let him dinde and let himselfe to rise Why didst thou throw him downe the steares in such a sorte That hee of thy discurtesie may iustlie make report And beinge falne downe so why didst thou Vaine delight Thrust him out of doores by force in such dispight You Iacke an Apeses too why caught you at him so To ride him like an Asse as he alonge the Courte did go Why did you hisse you Geese and Duckes why cride you quacke To raile on him why did you not more gently let him packe Why didst thou Daliaunce so thrust him out of doore That made him catch so great a fall and bruze himself so sore A las what blame I you my selfe I ought to blame For if I had forbidden it you had not done the same Coulde none of all my Flowers so faire and swéete of smell Cause him to haue desire againe within my Forte to dwell Coulde not my Bedchamber with all my Pictures faire Make him yet ere he die againe thither to make repaire Alasse I feare he sawe the wordes at my Beds hed And out of doubt I feare in déede that sentence he hath redde And that hath caused him to loth my Bed and mée But coulde not all the other sightes that in the Chamber hée Did sée to moue delight make him forget the same Oh no well Fancie yet séeke none at all to blame But euen thy onely selfe who tookest so small regarde Unto a Stranger in such sorte and handle him so harde Well since that hee is gone and that I am discride And that from him my shiftes alasse I can no longer hide I must a warninge take the next that come againe Unto my Forte for seruice mine better to entertaine And though he thus begon I doubt not but there be Some youthes a broade yet in the worlde that wil come séeke out me But all that I can euer haue to ease my paine Will neuer doe me halfe that good as to see him againe Which if I euer haue I now not sorow soo But I shall then reioyce asmuch and ridde me of my woo Untill which time alasse I languish still in paine And so shall doe vntill I see my gentle youth againe FINIS A FAREVVELL To Fancie FOnde Fancie now farwell thy Lodginge likes me not I serued thee long full like a slaue yet litle gaines I got Yet though I say my selfe no slaue that euer serude Of any mistris in this world haue more reward deserud But hee that bindes himselfe apprentise to a Patch At seauen yeares ende will this be sure to gain sum foolish catch So Nodcoke I that longe haue serued thee like a slaue For my rewarde by dew desart Repentaunce gained haue Thou neuer badst me goo but I woulde runne with speede If thou didst bid mee staie again two biddinges should not neede When I had better runne when thou didst bid me staie And better staide then goo on foote to breede mine owne decaye When thou didst bid mee looke I readie was to marke And woulde not loose the thinge so soone no not in greatest darck When better I had been for to haue shut mine eye Then for to cast mine eye on that should worke me wo there by When thou didst bid me like I loued by and by When thou againe badst me mislike I hated contrarie What shall I further saye thou nothinge badst me doe But I was willinge by and by for to agree thereto But what for all my paines haue I now reapt in fine A goodly gaine Repentance sore of such great follie mine When thou didst bid me goo my running made me fall When thou didst bid me stay againe t was for no good at all Thou madst me studie ofte but what fonde trifling toies The Arte of loue and of the cause of louers greefes and Ioyes Thou madst me thincke longe while that louers greefe was game And that no Ioy coulde be compard vnto a gallant Dame. Thou madst me thincke longe time no pleasure like to that With Curtisans in their kinde to doe I saie not what Thou madst me halfe amazed sum time with franticke fits and now and then with thoughtes of loue almost out of my wits Thou maadst me take delight in Lodge of Loue to dwell And for to coumpt that thinge a heauen which rather was a hell Thou maadst me thinck that Loue did purchase heauenly Ioy Which now I see did purchase pain wrought naught but annoy
making cleane of many a 〈◊〉 For Ales or Mistresse Anne My Ladies Maydes will 〈…〉 Page Alwayes of such an heriâ—â—â—â— The wenches they get Coyfâ—s and Cawles Frenchhoodes and Partlets â—â—ke And I get nought but checks and brawâ—â—s A thousande in a wéeke These are rewardes méete for a Page Surely a goodly heritage My Ladies maydes to must I please But chiefely Mistresse Anne For else by the Masse she will disease Me vyly now and than Fayth she will say you 〈◊〉 Page I le purchase you an heritage And if she say so by the â—â—de T is Cock I warrant iâ— But God he knowes I were as good To be without it For all the gaynes I get â—oorâ— Page Is but a slender Heritage I haue so many folkes to please And créepe and kneele vnto That I shall neuer liue at ease What euer so I doe I le therefore be no more a Pagâ— But séeke some other heritage But was there euer such a paâ—â—â— To speake so lowde as I Knowing what hold the maydeâ— will câ—tch At euery fault they spye And all for 〈…〉 â—ore â—age To purchase me an heritage And if that they may hâ—â—re 〈…〉 I were as good be â—angde My Lady shall kno◠〈◊〉 by 〈◊〉 And I shall sure be bangde I shall be vsed 〈◊〉 a Page I shall not loose mine heritage Well yet I hope the tyme to sâ—e When I may run as fast For wandes for them as they for me Eare many dayes be past For when I am no longer Page I le geue them vp mâ—â—e heritage Well I a whyle must stand content Till better happe doe fall With such pore state as God hath sente And geue him thankes for all Who will I hope sende me pore Page Then this some better heritage With this with handes and eyes Lifte vp to heauen on high He sighed twise or thrise And wepte to piteously Which when I saw I wisht the Page In fayth some better heritage And wéeping thus good God quoth he Haue mercy on my soule That ready I may be for thée When that the bell doth knoule To make me frée of this bondage And partner of thine heritage Lord graunt me grace so thée to serue That at the latter day Although I can no good deserue Yet thou to me mayest say Be thou now frée that werte a Page And heare in heauen haue heritage Finis ¶ The same man being desyred the next day following to sing som prety song to the Virginals by a Gentlewoman that he made no small accoumpt of was faine Extempore to endite and sing as followeth AMid my ioyes such gréefe I fynde That what to doe I know not I My pleasures are but blastes of wynde Full well euen now and by and by Some sodayne pangues torment me so That I could euen crye out for wo. And yet perforce no remedy Néedes must I laugh when I could mâ—urne Yea ofte I sing when presently To teares my singing could I tourne Such lucke haue Gamsters some men say Winne and loose and all in a day But some there are whome fortune still Giues leaue to winne and seldome lose Oh would to God I had my will That I might soone be one of those That are in fortunes â—auour so Then néede I not thus playne of wo. For if that I were sure at least For to obtayne that I would craue Yea though it were but one request I would desyre no more to haue I aske but euen one happy day Let me doe after as I may â–ª And sure I sée no remedy But euen to hope on happe alone And that is it that comfortes me For when hope sayles all ioyes are gone Therefore what with hope and dispayre My ioyes lye houering in the ayre Which would to God would eyther fall Or else be driuen quyte away That I might haue no hope at all or else that I might happily say Now haue I found the thing I sought Now will I take but little thought Well yet I hope or eâ—e I dye To light on such a happy day That I may syng full merrily Not heigh ho wele but care away The Ship full many tempestes past Hath reacht the quyet Hauen at last Finis ¶ The next daye after that hee had written this passyon of Loue dyuers Gentlewomen being then in the house he was intreted by two or three of them at once to make some verses and one amoÌ„g the rest being very desyrous to haue her request fulfylled brought him a pen and ynke and Paper with earnest intreaty to make some verses vpon what matter he though best himselfe he very vnwilling to write not knowing of a sodayne how to please them al in vearse and yet desirous to graunt all their requestes with muche adoe was in the ende intreated to wryte as followeth WHat shal I write som prety toy wil that like Ladies best Or shall I pen the prayse of one fayre dame aboue the rest Or shall I wryte at randon else what fyrst coms in my brain No no for words once flowen abroade can not be cald againe Why then since none of these will serue what other kind of stile shall I picke out to wryte vpon now sure I â—éedes must smile To thinke vpon my béetle brain that can no fruite bring forth But such baldictum rimes as these as are not reading worth Fayth Ladies but for shame I would not write one word at al In ryme at least because you sée my reason is so smal But since it is such as it is in déede small and to small I must desyre you for this once to stand consent withall And take the same in as good parte as if a wyser man Had better done because you sée I doe the best I can And more then can you cannot craue for if you doe of mée Before you aske be sure to goe without I promise yée But any thing that well I 〈◊〉 commaund you all of me And I will doe the best I can to please each one of ye And thus as humbly as I can I craue of you to lend Your pacience to my rudenesse this and so I make an ende Full sory that I cannot wryte so fynely as I would To like your fancies all alyke for if I could I would And so agayne fayre Ladies all in curteous sorte I craue As I deserue your fauours so and friendships let me haue ¶ Not many dayes after he saw a Gentlewoman in the house whom he accoumpted his deare Mistresse beginne to shew her euell countenaunce without cause and to make very much of another whome he thoughte very vnworthy of such good happe and being not a little agreeued to see himselfe causlesse to grow dayly so much out of countenaunce and his aduersary so vnworthely esteemed wrote one daye among other halfe a sheete ofPaper in verse wherein he priuily shewed his aduersaries vnworthynesse his Mistresses inconstaÌ„cy and his owne euill happe and finding a fitte tyme deliuered the wryting to his sayde Mistresse which
Dame with all her maides was gon And I poore soule â–ª vpon the hyll was left so al alone Where taking héede vnto the path which shée had shewde mée so Crosse ouerthwart the hyll mée thought I gan to goe At foote whereof harde by the path mée thought a Riuer ran and down the streame in a smale boat me thought there came a maÌ„ And by and by he calde to mée to aske me if I would Come take a boat to crosse the streame and if I would I shoulde Nowe crosse the riuer strayght mée thought I sawe a beaten way Lykely to leade vnto some Towne whereat I gan to stay But nought I sayd and therwithal mée thought I plaine dyd sée The Dame who late had left mée quite approching néere to mée And being néere come to mée mée thought she stoutly sayde why do you lose your labour so what cause hath héere you stayde Keepe on your way and lose no Tyme and happy sure art thou Thou tookst not boate or ere I came but quite past danger now My selfe wyll bring thée thyther where the Temple thou shalt sée wherto I gaue thee charge to go and so mée thought quoth shee Come follow mée and by and by no great waye we had gon But strayght she brought me to the hyll this Temple stood vpon And ther me thought these words she said Go knock at yoÌ„der dore And say thou art a seely vvight cast vp on sorrovvers shore Brought in the Barke of vvearie bâ—lâ— cast vp by vvaues of vvoe The Barke is burst thou saude alyue dost vvander too and froe To seeke some place of quiet rest and vvandring so about The hyl of Hope vvhere Patience dvvels by chance thou foundest out From vvhome thou presently dost câ—me a message to declare Beare this in minde thou shalt get in well warrant thee I dare And when thou comst into the Church marke wel on the right haÌ„d â–ª within the Quyre all cladde in whyâ—e doth Lady Pittie stande To whome with humble reuerence saye this for thy behoue â–ª I do beleeue that Patience in tyme vvyl Pittie moue And thus this lesson I thèe leaue which if thou heare in minde Assure thy selfe â–ª straight at her handes some fauor for to finde And thus quoth shée againe farewel though me no more thou see Tyll backe thou dost returne againe yet I wyll be with thee And guide thee so where so thou goest that thou thy self shalt see In many Melancholike moodes thou shalt be helpâ—â— by mee And therwithall I knowe not howe she vanished away And I vnto the Temple straight began to take my way And to the doore as I â—ad charge me thought I came And tooke the ring â–ª in my hand â–ª and knocked at the same Who knocketh at the doore quoth one A silly vvight quoth I Cast vp of late â–ª on sorrovves shore by tempests soddenly Brought in the barke of vveary bale cast vp by vvaues of vvâ—e Since vvhen to seeke some place of rest I vvandred too and froe And vvandring so I knevve not hovve vnto a mount I came VVhereas I found in comely sort a noble courteous Dame The MouÌ„t is cald the Hyl of Hope where doth Dame Patience dwel From whome I come Welcâ—me quoth he I know the Lady wel With that the doore was opened and in mée thought I went Wherewith mée thought I hard a voice a sobbing sighe that sent Wherewith somwhat amazd at first though greatly not afraide Styll staring round about awhile this stately Church I stayde And as before Dame Patience to mee at parting tolde Within the Quier on the right hand mée thought I did behold A gallant Dame all clad in white to whome for my behoue These wordes I sayde Dame Patience I Hope vvyll Pittie moue With that me thought this Lady saide I know thy deepe distresse and for my frieÌ„d Dame Patience sake thou shalt haue som redresse And therewithall mée thought she sayde vnto an aged sire Which in the Temple hard by sate Father I thee desire To shewe this Youth the perfect path vnto the place of rest Who long hath wandred vp down with torments sore opprest Dame Patience hath stoode his friend and sent him vnto mee To lend him helpe vnto this place where he desires to bee Lady quoth he I cannot go my selfe abrode to day But I wyll send my seruaunt here to shewe him the right way Whose company if he wyll kéepe beléeue mée he shall finde In little time a place that may right well content his minde Which if he doe not yet let him with him returne to mée And then my selfe wyll go with him it shall suffice quoth shée â–ª Go sirra quoth shée followe well his man where so he goes And take good heede that in no wise his company you loose For if you lose â–ª his company you lose your labour quite But followe him your gaine parhaps your trauyle shal requite His name quoth shée True Reason is my Father VVisdoms man Whome if you followe to the place of rest conduct you can So sirra quoth shee go your wayes be rulde by him I say And though â—e leade you now theÌ„ through some vnplesant way Yet followe him where so he goes doe as I bidde you doe And he in time the perfect place of rest can bring thée too And so farewell Lady quoth I I humble thankes do geue To you and eke this good olde man and sure whyle I do lyue You two I vowe and eke besides the noble curteous Dame That sent mée hyther vnto you Dame Patience by name In harte I euer honour wyll And honest Reason loe For taking paines vnto the place of rest with mée to goe To recompence his paines I vowe to stande his faithfull friende To followe him and to be rulde by him vnto mine ende And if I seeke to slyppe from him I wylling aye wyll bée That as he lyst he shall doo due correction vpon mée So Lady I my leaue doo take And therewithall me thought The good olde mâ—n fast by the hande vnto the doore me brought â–ª And at the doore me thought dyd part this good olde man and I And Reason â–ª he came stepping forth to beare me company Or else to leade me to the place whereas we then should goe But as in euery mery moode doth happe some sodaine woe So in this Dreame as wee me thought were going on our waye â–ª I knowe not well at what alas we soddainly gan staye And staying so a Phesant Cocke harde by me I gan sée Which flying by me crew so lowde as that he waked mée And thus my Dreame was at an ende which when that I awooke I tooke my penne and as you see I put it in my booke Which for the straungenesse of the same surely perswadeth mée It doth some straunge effect pretende what euer so it bée THe huge highe Mountaine fyrst of all and then the broken Trée And then the Lady soddainly that dyd appeare to mée The
craue of your good Maystership to hyre a péece of Lande And wot you wherefore â–ª Syr your Farmer fynds this feate To come with Coyne ready in hand your friendship to intreate When that your goods are gone and you the losse doe sée Of braynsick bargaynes made in haste to mayntayne brauery The smart thereof at last shall shew you then their shiftes Then shall you easely discerne their double dealing driftes Which I dare not descry I am so chargde you see To make no wordes of any thing what euer so it bée ¶ Your seruaunt last he sées your feathers gin to fall And sées your Farmer buy you out of house and Land and all No longer then he lykes your seruice Syr adew And if you meane to kéepe a man you must go séeke a new And aske you me by this what may his meaning bée Sure if you sée it not your selfe you shall not know for mée ¶ As for the higher powers they are too high for mée What faultes are to be found in them I list not séeke to sée Let fynde their faultes themselues so shall they best be pleasde And for my silence I am sure I shall not be diseasde ¶ But to the rest agayne that are of meaner sorte Of their fyne fetches secretly I somewhat will reporte For openly God wot I nothing dare descry Who hurts not me nor yet my friends I will not hurt them I. But they who doe me harme I doe not meane to spare To bid my friendes in each respect of such for to beware ¶ From Citizens to Clownes what secret shifte they haue It is a sport to sée a Clowne how he can play the Knaue The Badger fyrst one Knaue that hauntes the market place When Corn is cheape to buy good store now therby lyes a case What shuld he mean by that oh syr when cornâ— growes dere I néed not tel you what he means your self shal know next yere ¶ The toleing Myller then when he hath tollde the sacke Hée findes a trade to fyll it vp if any meale doo lacke Nowe what meanes hee by this this feate howe dothe hee frame The Mylstone greete among y meale wyl make you find the same ¶ The Baker then that sees that meale doth growe so deere Hée findes a shyfte to gaine somewhat howe euer goe the yéere But what is that his shyfte the Bakers man can tell And I saye nought but lytle loaues wyll shewe it pretely well ¶ Some other kinde of clownes or craftie knaues by kinde That buye whole groues of woods at once what shal I speake my minde What they doo meane thereby Dâ— no syr by the roode The Coliar the poore man knowes wheÌ„ they doo bye their wood ¶ The Colyar yet â–ª to gaine wyll playe the crafty clowne He works a knack yet in his sackâ— when coales do come to Towne But howe he workeâ— that shyfte I praye you aske not mée But when you see him shoote his coles then mark what dust you sée ¶ Another sort of Clownes there are that lyue by buing Corne That secreetely vse knauish shiftes that are not to bee borne And these are Maâ—lt men calde but what their shyftes should bée I néede not tell by speered mault the Bruer soone wyll see ¶ The Bruer then â—e findes a shifte to make a gaine But what is that smal drinke alas doth shew it too too plaine ¶ Another sort of Clownes there be that Drouers are by name That heards of Cattell buie at once what meane they by the same Oh syr although I knowe I must not saye my minde But when the poore man buyes a Cow then he the cause shal finde ¶ Another sort there are which some doo Grasiers call And for their secréete kinde of gaine they are not least of all But howe they make their gaine I lyst not to descrie The Butcher when he buies his Béefes hée better knowes then I. ¶ The Butcher too againe hée is no foole I trowe Hée findes deuise to make a gaine howe euer Cattell goe But shall I tell you howe Oh syr I must not I But marke your weight of bones pricks in meate when you doo buye ¶ The Chaundler then that of the Butcher tallowe buyes If hée buye déere then wyll hée worke a feate in secreete wise To make a secreete gaine but what feate maye that bée I dare saye nought but some the same by watry Lyghts wyll sée ¶ Some welthy fellowes are that trauell here and there And buye vp almost all the wooll they can get euery where And doo you seeke to knowe what they maye meane by that The Draper when you buye your cloth can quickly tell you what Tush many such things moe I see ofte tymes God wot Which I would helpe too if I coulde â–ª but alas I can not Therefore since I can not I thinke it alwayes best To take good hâ—ede holde my peace for silence bréedes much rest If silence then breede rest why haue I prattled so Yet haue I nothing sayde I hope whereof iust grutch may growe But if against my wyll I any doe offende I pardon craue I spake in sporte and so I make an ende The iust wyll lyue vpright and make an honest gayne And if I thinke to mend a Knaue my labour is in vaine But honest men or else what euer so they be Let Countrey Prince and Freindes a lone and let them be for me But he that wissheth yll to Countrey Prince and freind I wyll not keepe his counsayle sure but rather seeke his ende But else as I am warnd so doe I thinke it best To meddle little any way and so to lyue at rest FINIS ⧠A solempne and Repentant Praier for former tyme mispent OH heauenly Lord who plaine dost see the thoughts of each mans harte vvho sendest some continuall plagues some release of smart Pittie O Lorde the wofull state vvherein I daily stande Onely for thy mercies sake nowe helpe mee out of hande And as it vvas thy pleasure fyrst to plague mee thus vvith griefe So canst thou Lord if thee it please vvith speede send me reliefe I must of force confesse O Lorde I canâ—t not denie That I deserue these plagues and vvorse and that continually Yet do not thou therfore on me thy iudgement iust extende But pardon lende and graunt me grace my life for to amende And banish Lord from mee delights of vvorldly vanitie And lende me helpe to pace the pathes of perfect pietie And truely so to treade the pathes and in such godly vvise That they may bring me to the place of perfect Paradise And not to vvander vp and downe in vvaies of vveerie wo VVhere vvicked vvyly vvanton toyes do leade me too and fro The smacke of Sapience lykde me not that pleased not my taste But fonde delight that vvicked vveede vvas all my chiefe repaste VVherin as hooke vvithin the bayte so do I plainely finde Some hydden poison lurking lyes for to infect my minde But vvherefore doe I finde it nowe because I nowe doe see That wanting smart I wanted grace for to acknowledge thee But nowe O Lorde that I so sore doe feele thy punishment I doe lament my folly great and all my sinnes repent And to thy heauenly throane O Lord for mercy I appeale To send me Lord some heauenly salue my grieuous sores to heale Behold O Lord my sorrowes such as no man doth endure And eke my grieuous sicknesse such as none but thou canst cure And as thou art a gratious God to men in myserie So pittie mee that thus O Lorde do pine in penurie And as thou arte a helpe to all that put their trust in thee So lulde in this my deepe distresse some comfort lende to mee And holde O Lord thy heauy hand and laye thy scourge asyde For Lord the grieuous smart thereof I can no longer byde Forgeue my sinnes forget the same beholde my humble harte VVho onely Lorde doth trust in thee for to relieue my smarte And after this my vvretched lyfe Lord graunt me of thy grace â–ª That I in heauen at latter daye maye haue a ioyfull place FINIS