Such Saintes such seruice I follow what flyeth from me No griefe to wante of due regarde Of Anger A New yeares gifte Another Another Another An Epitaph A Dreame Loue asketh loue The variable thoughts of a Louer R. T. Aunswere Another waye Godlynesse passeth ryches His aunswere to one that wrote faynte hartes that feare to synne fayre Ladyes syldome wynne To I. N. H. To his mishap Falsyfying of fayth breeds many complaints To his Song sent to his Mistresse A Poesie Aunswere The vanitie of rytches Discord makes weake what concord left strong Of one that came to borrowe money Aunswere Truth feareth no tryall He complayneth his mishap with promise to keepe her honor G. To his Ladye For smale offence smale punishment ¶ Loues myghtinesse growes by Louers weaknesse ¶ A comparison of his troubles ¶ I. K. to H. being sicke ¶ Aunswere H. ¶ Of Friendship ¶ Aunswere G. H. ¶ H. To M. ¶ Admonition to his Friend ¶ Who seekes this Worlds felicitie Fyndes nothing else but vanitie To a Flatterer Aunswere Reason and Fansie doe often varie A Poesie Certaine Verses translated out of Petrark concerning Rome written by hym many yeares since FINIS ¶ To the Reader WHere none but Nature is the guyde Minerua hath no parte Then you her Nurcelings beare with him y e knows no aide of arte I wake my wyts to please my selfe nought reaking praise or blame I force my pen to purge my brayne though matter small I frame In which attempt if lack of skill haue led my Muse awry Let my well meaning minde the misse in eche respect supply If patterns wrought by Arte of curious workman here thou seeke Thy trauayle then thou shalt but lose to looke and neuer léeke But if good will may thée suffise peruse and take thy pleasure In Natures schoole my little skill I learned all by leasure Here nothing placed is that may the vertuous sorte offende Though enuious Carpers barke and snarle at things they scarce can mende Whose chiefest grace is wise to séeme by blotting others déedes Whose paynted flowers in proofe full oft fall out but stincking wéedes The chaste desyre with honest ryme mistykes no whitt in minde But venomde Spyders poyson take where Bée doth honey finde With greater ease a fault is founde then well to welde the reste It differs much to fell the tale and words misplasté to wresté By patterns here displayed to thée thou mayst perhaps preuente The poysoning bayts of bitter swéete whose blisse brings sharp euente Disloyall loue and filthie lust thou here art taught to flée With other Sawes to sundry endes though he wed rough they bée That lyfe is lyke a Bubble blowne or smoke that soone doth passe That all our pleasures are but paynes our glorie brittle glasse That Fortunes fruites are variable no holde in Princely mace That womens myndes are mutable that death drawes on apace That worldly pompe is vanity that youth vnwares decayes That high estate is slipperie that onely vertue stayes Here learne thou mayst with diuers notes gaynst fraude and flattery That may suffise to warne the wise to voyde such battery And eke thou here mayst viewe and see howe Be wtie cruell haste Doth make to shun the gallant face where she but late was plaste That she is Natures priueledge and so is sayd to bée Because the seldom giues that gyfte but where she cause doth sée That beawtie is a dumbe disceite not hauing worde or arte And yet with stlente crafte she can perswade the hardest harte She conqueres where she coms by kinde for Creatures faire procure By naked lookes such yéelding harts as they wishe to allure Whose vayne delyghts if thou vesier thy thryfte goes to the grounde And yet by honest loue we see the greatest wealth is founde Apollos troope my faults will passe and waye my want hercin Whose freindly fauor if I gaine I prise not Pan a pin The trauell myne the pleasure thine if ought thou here doe léeke Thy good reporte for paynes ymployed is sole rewarde I séeke Virtus honorem parit ¶ Faults escaped in the printing In the Sonet entiteled Ruine the reward of Vice the seconde line for ioy reade ioyes And in the fyft staffe of the same Sonet the last line for forsing reade falsing In the answere to the poe sie written of Fansie the laste lyne for you reade your In the Golden world the xvij vearse and fyrst word for Gor read For. In the Sonet entiteled hir louer that made a conquest of hir the viii staffe the last line for shamefull read shamelesse In mans impietie faines false deitie the first verse for faine read faynde In Sorrowe disclosed somewhat eased for setled sorrows read sorrowe In such saints such seruice toward the ende of the Sonet for when read whence In what Nature seuereth arte hardly ioyneth the laste line of the first staffe for soone read same In the vanity of ritches after the sixt line read For who hath most of such a store the more he feares as thrall Which is there lacking In Discorde makes weake what c. the last lyne saue one for guyde reade guyle In Reason and fancie do often vary the first word for there read where Delightfull Discourses to sundry purposes ¶ No assurance but in Vertue WHo wisely skans the weake and brittle stayes That Natures Imps within thys vale possesse The dyuers haps the straunge vncertayne wayes That headlong forth we runne beyonde all gesse Shall soone perceyue that euery worldly ioye Short pleasures yéelds imixte with long anoye Though whorde of heaped store for more delight Our Cofers kéepe to please our gréedie luste Yea though our time we passe in ioyfull plight And in thys lyfe repose our chiefest trust Yet worldly pompe when all is sayde and done Doth vade away lyke Snowe against the Sonne A tyme of byrth Dame Nature doth vs giue A tyme to dye shée lykewise doth prouyde No sooner doe we fyrst beginne to liue But straight to death vnwares a way we slyde And yet alas our fancies are so frayle That all our ioye is here to hoyse vp Sayle But such as set their Heauen of lingering lyfe In pleasures lap whose froward tickle whéele Sayth wisdoms sonne with frowning turne is ryse To drowne their blisse that blyndly so doe réele By searche shall fynde eche fléeting pleasure vaine When Uertues Impes with Uertue highe shall raigne Then who so sées the Sugar strawde on Gall And shunnes the same by sacred Uertues skill Shall safely stande when Follyes children fall That héedlesse holde Dame pleasures wanton will Thus Uertue stayeth when Uices steps doe slyde So are they blest that doe in Uertue byde ¶ Prosperitie ought not cause presumption nor aduersitie force dispayre WHere Fortune fauoreth not what labor may preuaile Whō frowning fate wil néeds thrust down what shal he win to waile With pacient mind to yéeld is sure the soundest way And cast our cares and griefe on him that fatall force doth sway For Death
white Let all of gréene Lawrell bedeck thy Garland Though some distill their teares That wrythed Willow weares Yet fainte not at their feares Séeme not to dread The wisest haue done so The Ualiant wrapt in wo Haue taken ouerthrow By Fancie led Where wyt is constrayned by will to giue place Their songs are of sorrow that ioyes would embrace Sing all of gréene Lawrell Let no deceytfull shewes of Venus bright shine Haue power once to pierce the sounde harte of thine So shall the gréene Lawrell set forth thy garland Waygh not the wauering minde That fléetes with euery winde Tyll thou some stay doe finde Trust not to farre Unto Dame Constancy Bende still thy battery Flye fast from flattery With bewtie make warre So shall thy well lyking not harme thée at all For fayth fixed firmely such fauour will fall That all of gréene Lawrell c. When others in dolor their wrack shall bewayle Thy shyp on the sounde seas in safetie may sayle Where crownde with gréene Lawrel in ioy thou shalt sing ¶ No newe fancies shall alter olde lyking THough Paris prayse Apollos Impe gan stayne When change of choyce his fickle humor fedde And Carthage cryes with strayned voyce complayne On periurde Prince by night that faithlesse fledde Though Iasons heste Medea founde vntrue And others mo there be whose fancye past That skorne the olde still haunting after newe Wythin whose hartes no léeking long may last Yet tyll syr Phebus beames shall lose their light And Ocean Seas doe cease to ebbe and flowe Untill the day shall turne to perfite night And Natures course against her kinde shall goe My fixed fayth vnspotted shall remayne What would you more I vowe I doe not fayne ¶ A Dreame WHen Phebus bright was setled in the West And darknesse dimme the earth had ouerspread When sylent night that moues eche thing to rest With quyet pawse had plaste me in my bed In stombring Dreame me thought I heard a wyght His woes bewayle that grewe through loues despyght Whose wearing wéede and vestures all were gréene Saue that his loynes with black were girded rounde And on his brest a badge of blewe was séene In signe his fayth and truth remayned sounde He sighed oft and said O blisfull hier When hope with hap may ioye in his desier But still to hope and finde therein no fruite To be in bed and restlesse there remayne To séeke to serue and daylie make pursute To such as set but light of weary payne Doth bréede such balefull dole within the brest As quyte bereaues all ioye and quyet rest Though taste of sower deserue the swéete to gayne Yet cruell Fate I sée the same denyes So that desyre and wisdome prooues but vayne Without accorde and fauour of the Skyes But stedfast hope séeme not quoth he to quayle The heauens in tyme may turne to thine auayle Scarse had he thus his wofull spéeche concluded When wake I did and sawe my selfe deluded ¶ The lamentable ende of Iulia Pompeis Wyfe SOre plungde in gréeuous paynes and wofull smarte Bedewed with trickling teares on Death like face Downe trylles the drops on chéekes sighs from hart To heare and sée her husbands dolefull case Thus goes thys spouse the wofull Iulia Besprent with bloud when Pompeis Cote she saw Downe dead she falles in lamentable sounde Of sence bereft so great was sorrowes strayne The chylde conceyude within by deadly wounde Untymely fruite came forth with pinching payne When all was done for loue her lyfe she lost For Pompeis sake shée yéelded vp her Ghost So dead she laye bewaylde with many teares A Matrone wise a famous Ornament O Caesar she had séene full chéerefull yeares If thou with Pompey couldst haue bene content But ciuill warres hath wrought this fatall stryfe To Pompey death to Iulia losse of lyfe ¶ Secrecy for some sorrowes a needefull remedy LIke as the captiue Wight in chayned lincks doth lye And hopes at Sise to be releast is thē condemde to dye Euen so alas my lot by frowning fate doth fall That sought to féede on swéete delight but found most bitter Gall. My restlesse labor lost I iustly may compare To Sisiphus that neuer sleepes and griefe to Titius care For after sundry stormes when calme I thinke to finde More rougher rage a new doth rise to straine my daunted minde And when my quelling cares I seeke by meanes to cure Most deepest dynte of inwarde woe alas I doe endure Prometheus pincht with payne nor Ixion whyrlde on wheele More grypes by griefe doe not sustaine then I vnhappy feele The somme of my vnrest yet couert will I keepe And secretly my sorrowes sup when others sounde doe sleepe To ease my pensyue brest a Uearse though here I frame The bursting forth of sorrows mine shal bréed no further blame My sydes shall shryne this smart my hart shall wast with woe Ere I the secrete of my cause bewray to friend or foe Saue onely to the Saint that swayes my lyfe at wyll Whose pittie may prolong the same or crueltie may kyll ¶ The ende of lyfe the begynning of blysse WHy shoulde we feare to dye Or séeke from Death to flye When Death the way doth make Eche worldly woe to slake By whome we passe to ioye Where neuer comes annoye Our tryflying tryumphs héere Though we estéeme them deere Are like to vapours vayne That waste with little rayne Deluding Dreames in déede Whereon our fancies féede What yéelde our pleasures all But swéetenesse mixt with Gall Their pryme of chiefest pride Unwares away doth slide Whose shewe of swéete delight Oft dymmes our perfyte sight Though Ioue in loftie seate Haue placed Princes great With Regall rule to raigne His glory to explaine Yet vades their pompe and powre As doth the wythred Flowre Loe here the surest staye The worlde doth yéelde vs aye Thy dearest friend to daye To morrow falles away Whose wante thou doest bewayle When teares may nought preuayle Sithe lyfe is myserie Uoyde of felicitie Full of anxietie Giuen to impietie The death I happy call That doth bereaue such thrall ¶ They soonest yeelde remedy that haue felt lyke extremetie THe flames of fyre and clowds of cold repugnant in my brest Hath quite exiled me from ioy and rest all quiet rest Yet oft alas in shewe I smile to shade my inwarde smarte When in my laughter waues of woe well nie do burst my harte Whose driery thoughts I would to God were séene so ful to thée As mine afflicted minde in payne doth powre them out on mée So should perhaps thy frozen hart now harde as Flintie stone Within thy brest w t melting teares take ruth on this my mone But as he well cannot discerne what tempest Saylers trye That neuer crost the checking tydes y t surge with waues on hye No more canst thou my cares descry for wante of ryper skill Although in déede the shewes thereof doe pleade for pittie still In vayne therfore my pensiue plaintes by Pen I doe expresse When both
so right That Heauen for hyre vnto thy lotte may light With gréedie minde so wrest not worldly gayne That soule doe spill for slyding pleasures vayne Suffised be with that sufficient is And séeke the things that bring eternall blisse So shalt thou here not onely purchase prayse But after eke enioy most happie dayes ¶ To his Mistresse MAye name of seruaunt to familier séeme For such whose seruice neuer swarude awry Can Noble mindes so base of those estéeme That fréely yéelde for them to liue or dye No no some further fetche conceyued is Which hath withdrawne from me that wonted name How so it be if I be more amisse Then sounde good will hath once desarued blame The wrekfull Gods powre downe vpon my hed Such sharpe reuenge as neuer man did féele And let my Ghost in Lymbo lowe be led To Tantals thyrst or prowde Ixions whéele What wouldst thou more if I not wishe thee well In Plutos Den then let me lyue and dwell ¶ Rewarde doth not alwayes aunswere deserte SIth my desyre is prest to please Though not with glosing showe And eke my deeds if proofe were made Should tell what fayth I owe. Where to shall I impute my hap To Fate or wante of skill When nought I finde but tickle trust Where most I meane good will ¶ Who hurte must heale THe sparkes of loue within my brest doe daylie so increase That euery vain on fyre is set which none but y u mayst cease So that in thée consists my woe in thée likewise my wealth In thée with spéede to hast my death in thée to giue me health O pittie then his restlesse state that yeeldes him to thy will Sithe loe in thée it wholy lyes my life to saue or spill That neyther doe I glose or faine I Ioue to witnesse call Who knows the heat of fixed harts when they to loue are thrall And shall I thus a wofull Wight in rigor still remayne Shal such as smale good wil me beare thy grace frō me restrayne Shall false perswation so preuaile to let our wished ioye Shall fayth and troth for their rewarde reape naught but sharpe annoy Or else shal want of pyning welth retract my iust desier Do not the Gods at pleasure theirs the lowe estate raise higher Is not the worlde and all therein at their disposing still Doth it not rest in them to giue and take from whom they will No recklesse race 〈◊〉 shalt thou runne ne follow vaine delight In yéelding help to cure his harme that holds thée dearst in sight Ne yet from tip of Fortunes whéele y u shalt ne slide nor swarue Such hope I haue of better hap the Fates do yet resarue Thy person not thy pelfé is all I wishe and craue Which more I vowe I do estéeme then heaps of coyne to haue The greatest Princes aye by proofe lead not the pleasantst lyfe Nor euery maide that maryeth welth becoms the happiest wyfe ¶ Of Loue. ANd if Loue be Lorde who or what is he If Loue be not who then bereaues my rest If no suche thing alas what ayleth me What bréedes suche broyle what woundes my yéelding brest To tell what tis doth passe my knowledge farre But who so loues I sée doth liue in warre ¶ Of Bayes and Willow SHewe forth your Bayes that boaste of swéete delightes For I ne may such blisfull hap attayne The Willow branche most fit for wofull wightes Beholde I beare a badge of secret payne Which loe my sides enshryne and shall doe still Till cruell Fate hath wrought on me her will ¶ An Epitaph vpon the death of the Lady Katherine late Countesse of Pembrooke IF suche doe mourne whose solace is bereft And sighs séeme sharpe to those whom sorrowes sting If cares increase where comforte none is left And griefs do grow where pensiue thoughts do spring Then be we sure our Lorde in sadde annoy Doth wayle her death whose lyfe was all his ioy If he alas with sobs her losse bemones May seruaunts spare their sighes abroade to sende Shall they in secret shrowde their gryping grones When maysters playnts may haue no power to ende No no déepe dole our pensiue sides would pearce If we in teares our sorrowes not rehearce Then mourne with me my wofull fellows all And tryll your teares your drooping chéekes adowne Gushe forth a gulfe of griefes let floodes downe fall To wayle her wante that sprang of high renowne Who whyles she liude did sundry séeke to ayde But Death O Death thou hast them all dismayde The chéerefull spring that doth eche soyle adourne With pleasant showes whereby delight is taken Doth moue our mindes alas the more to mourne Our Ladie lost in source of sorrowes shaken Which loe in Uer to heauen hath tane the waye To her great gayne but oh to our decaye If Princes loue if husbands care or Coyne If Noble friends if proofe of Phisicks lore By long attempt could sicknesse vndermoyne Or search of forrein soyle might health restore We should not yet haue séene the sonne to vade Whose clipsed light hath turnde our shyne to shade But when the twyste of this our fyme is wownde No meanes by man may serue the same to stretch Our lottes are layde our bodyes haue their bownde Tyme swiftly runnes with short and curelesse breatch Though world we weld in seate of Princely sway Yet swarues our state as shade that slydes away The glittering shewes of highest glory héere Consumes to nought like clowds disperst with winde And all that Nature from the earth doth reare Returnes againe whence first it came by kinde But Uertues webbe which loe this Lady sponne Shall last for aye new these her dayes be done Her praise on earth lyke Palme shal florishe still Her Noble déedes shall liue and neuer dye Her sacred steps that sought eche vice to kill Shall mounte aloft though lowe in earth she lye Who euen when latter pangues opprest her most Did mercy craue in yéelding vp the Ghost What would you more her lyfe and death was such As déeper head could not commend to much Ultimum vale FArewell thou Pearle that Princes fauour founde Farewell the Saint that shielded our annoy Farewell the Hauen whose harbor was full sounde Farewell the Barke that brought her Chiefetaine ioy Farewell thou Spowse to him that held thee deare Farewell the Lampe that gaue such gladsome light Farewell of modest Dames a Mirrour cleare Farewell the shryne where vertue shyned bright Farewell thou minde that mente to no wight ill Farewell the harte that lodged honor aye Farewell the hande that helpt the needie still Farewell the staffe that sought the weake to stay Loe here in teares my last farewell I take What Heauens will haue the earth must needes forsake ¶ In aduersitie is best seene Vertues excellency WHen Boreas rough had leauelesse left eche frée And horie Hiems gan his raigne to holde In walking forth I might discerne and sée A stately Palme her branches gréene vnfolde At sight
whereof when I a tyme had mused By malice meanes I sawe the trée abused I sawe howe swelling Enuye in the top Sat shrowded close embrasing slaunders cup By whome stoode Hate aye ready prest to crop Ech springing spray so soone as they shot vp And Flattery eke did fiske from place to place By Synons arte to seeke the Palmes disgrace As Tennys Ball yet make the highest bownde When greatest powre is plaste to presse the same Or as a Bell sends forth the brimmest sownde When déepest downe the Ringer plucks the frame Euen so in sort this Trée did rise and spring That Enuye sought by burden low to bring Which to your vertues may alude right well Though Malice fainte to matche you with her might Yet fewe so sure in these our dayes doe dwell That Enuye neuer spurnes with déepe dispight If such then be or if hereafter shall The Gods graunt you as to the Palme doth fall ¶ Sorrowe disclosed somewhat eased SIthe kindled coales close kept continue longest quick And secret smarte with greater power the pensiue minde doth prick Why should I cloke the griefe from whence such passions grow Unlesse my braine by Pen I purge my brest they ouerflow When night with quyet pause eche creature cals to rest Through quelling cares pinching thoughts I lye so sore oprest That from my setling downe vntill the tyme I rise Sléepe hardly wins the force to close my watchful drooping eies The Skrich Owle me besides her dolefull tunes doth shréeke Whose cryes my cares may represent that rest in vaine do séeke To thinke on the mishaps which daylie me betyde When surest hope of swéete redresse I sée away doth slyde The hardest harte by proofe doth yéelde an inwarde pante When good desyres are deprest by wrack of Irus wante Wante makes best natures fall that else would vpright stand Want makes the valiant faynt in feares though strong be harte hand Want drowns in dollor déepe the pleasants wits y t bée Want daunts the finste conceited head and makes it dull we sée Wante makes the olde wyfe trot the yong to run outright Wante makes the noblest hart mind to séeme but base in sight Wante makes the Lyon stowte a slender pray to léeke Want plucks the Pecocks plume adown want makes y e mighty méeke Want is the sowrce whence sorrows spring y t hasts y e lifes decay Want loads the hart with heaped cares that crush al ioys away Néede hath no lawe some say extremes extremes doe vrge The passions that by want do pain what phisick wel may purge Unhappy is the hower that such sharp sicknesse brings And thrise vnhappy is the wretch whom want so deadly stings Aye me that such sowre sawce false Fortune should procure When slylie forth she séemes to throw her traine on golden lure By sleight whereof she doth a piersing poyson place Ful closely coucht on pleasant bayte to worke our more disgrase As I but lately tryed who doe her guyle so faste That secretly I sup the smarte that my good dayes defaste The time that I began to enter fyrst to lyfe Would God the sisters thrée had cut the thréed with fatall knyfe Would God that Death had bene with bowe and arrows bente To pierce the woful hart of mine which now with care is spent Whose hard and crooked fate increasing euery hower Doth force me wake when others sléepe where Fortune doth not lower And when the dawning daye I doe perceyue and sée And how syr Tytan vaunts himselfe full braue in fyrst degrée Whose gladsome golden beames doe moue eche thing to ioye Saue onely me whose wrackfull woes haue wrought my sadde annoy Then from my couch I créepe al clad with cloke of care And forth to walke in desarte woodes my selfe I doe prepare Where none but wofull wights do wandring waile their griefe Where violence doth vengeance take where neuer comes relief Where pleasure playes no parte nor wanton lyfe is ledde Where daintie lookes no danger makes nor nice desyre is fedde Where former ioyes doe vade and turne to passions strange Where al delights condemde are shut in sharp repentāce grange Where setled sorrows sits with head hangde on her brest And wrings her hands for follies past her present paines y t prest Where Dolor ruthfull Dame with sad Dispaire doth dwell Where Furies fierce doe swarme flock not distant farre from Hell Euen there in dolefull Den driue forth I doe the day Whereas my painefull piercing woes at no time finde delay Within whose troubled head such throng of thoughts do rise That nowe on this and then on that in minde I still deuise Among great thoughts throwne vp I downe will set the least How syllie birde in prison pente tane from the Nurse in neast Doth ioye in that her lyfe so much as though she might From wood to wood or fielde to fielde at pleasure take her flight By whome I learne how man from Cradle aye brought vp In base estate that neuer felt the taste of pleasures Cup Doth holde himselfe so well content with his degrée That he in lyfe doth seldome séeke his state more high to sée But I as Byrde vnlyke that flewe in prime her flight Through gallant groues fertyle fields in ioys swéete delight Which shall no sooner feele her selfe to be restraynde From her such wonted libertie as sometime she retaynde But forthwithall she doth such inwarde woe conceyue That yéelding vp her pleasures past her life therwith doth leaue When as the byrde in Cage doth sporting sing and playe Who neuer found the place wherein she felt more happy daye Loe thus the greater oft are taught by things but small To knowe what restlesse griefe it bréedes from fortunes grace to fall I therfore wishe my lyfe which all to long doth laste In symplest sort had euer bene from tyme to tyme ypaste So I by custome should haue likt my present paye Which now by tast of wrackfull change in woe do wast awaye Omnis fortuna super and a ferendo est Of sufferanee comes ease WHo wayles at paine of sorrowes deadly smarte By wayling much encreaseth sorrowes might In greatest griefes who shewes the quiets harte By pacience driues sharpst griefe to spéedy flight Repine griefe growes be still griefe soone decayes Suffrance the salue for griefe at all assayes As Balles if throwne gainst stones do soone rebounde But fast they stick if cast they be at durte So griefs nought harme where yéelding none is found Once fainte and then they cause some mortall hurte By proofe and tryall this most true we finde Least hurte by griefe is done to stowtest minde Pacience and stowtnesse lodged in thy brest Shall voyde from thence griefe sorrow and vnrest A. M. Vt animo sic amico ¶ H. His Reply to his friend A. M. THe helthfull wight with pleasure well may sing And courage hie to cheare the sicke may shewe But if disease his happy state should sting Those loftie tunes would fainte
and fall more lowe For Turrets tops that séemes to reach the Skyes By thundring stormes to shieuers smale are shaken The strongest holde where stowtest Souldiours lyes Mauger their might more greater force hath taken The soundest shyp long tost with tempest leakes In Wrastling windes the hugie Cables fayle The brasen péece surchargde with powder breakes And valiant hartes ore whelmde in woe do quayle The craggy Clyftes by floodes are fret at length The hardened stéele obeyes the hammers stroke The stiffest bow still bente doth lose his strength Base Fortunes blowes all ioy likewise doth choke How maye he then possesse a quiet minde That cause of rest doth séelde or neuer finde ¶ H. to himselfe WHom desteny shall denye A happy lyfe to finde Why should he wayling lye With pensiue hart and minde What gaine by mourning got What lost by little care When néeds must light to lot What desteny doth prepare ¶ Written to a most excellent Booke full of rare inuention GOe learned booke and vnto Pallas sing Thy pleasant tunes that swéetely sownde to hie For Pan to reache though Zoylus thée doth sting And lowre at thy lawde set nought thereby Thy makers Muse in spight of enuies chinne For wise deuise deserued praise shall winne Who views thée well and notes thy course aright And syftes eche sence that couched is in thée Must néedes extoll the minde that did thée dight And wishe the Muse may neuer weary bée From whence doth flowe such pithe in filed phrase As worthiest witte may ioy on thée to gase How much they erre thy rare euent bewrayes That stretch their skill the Fates to ouerthrow And how mans wisedome here in vaine seekes wayes To shun high powers that sway our states below Against whose rule although we striue to runne What loue foresets no humaine force may shunne But all to long thou hidste so perfite worke Séest not desyre how faine she seekes to finde Thy light but lost if thou in darknesse lurke Then shewe thy selfe and séeme no more vnkinde Unfolde thy fruite and spread thy maysters praise Whose prime of youth graue déeds of age displaies Go choyce conceits Mineruas Mirrour bright With Rubies ritch yfret wrought by the wise Purâ—â—ed with Pearle and decked with delight Where pleasure with profite both in their guise Discourse of Louers and such as solde shéepe Whose sawes well mixed shrowds misteries déepe Goe yet I say with spéede thy charge delyuer Thou néedst not blushe nor feare the foyle of blame The worthy Countesse sée thou follow euer Tyll Fates doe fayle maintaine her Noble name Attend her wyll if she vouchsafe to call Stoope to her state downe flat before her fall And euer thanke thou him that fyrst such fruite did frame By whome thy prayse shall liue to thy immortall fame ¶ Where Sorrowe is setled delyght is banished THe Sable sadde be wrapped hath my lymmes A sute most fyt for one repleat with griefe Whose strayned hart in sowrce of sorrowe swymmes Where wrackfull woes at no tyme finde reliefe Whose foode is feare whose drinke is dolor déepe Whose sawce is sighes whose tast sharpe passions are Whose rest is ruthe where sorrowes neuer sléepe Whose comfort clipsed is with clowds of care Whose helpe is frozen whose hap hath hard euente Whose hope is queld with clogge of colde dispayre Whose trust is tyerd whose toyle in vaine is spente Whose pensiue plaintes but beate the barreyn ayre Where nought I finde but drugges of bitter taste Whose dolefull dayes in darke annoye do waste ¶ The complainte of a sorrowfull wight founde languishing in a Forrest WHen spring in lyuely gréene eche fielde hath deckt anewe And strowde the soyle with flowers swéete of sundry kinds of hewe What time the chéerefull buds blossoms braue in fight Inuites the weary dulled minde abroad to take delight Then I by fancie led a tyme to sporte and play To Forrest fayre of pleasant ayre began to take the way And as I past through out a Ualley fayre and gréene Where sundrye swéete rare delights I earst had heard séene All whuste I found it tho such silence was there kept As if it midnight then had béene and all thing sounde had stept Whereat amazde I stoode and listning long might heare At last a dolefull sounding voyce with lowe lamenting cheare In shrubs hard shrowded by a wofull wight there lay Whose corps through care lingering griefe was welny worne away Where powring out his plainte he curst the tyme and when That fyrst on earth he placed was to lead his lyfe with men Whose selfeloue séemth so swéete that friendship yéeldes no tast And double dealing gaines such price that plainenesse is displast Alas quoth he the Babes one wombe brought forth and bare Will nowe obiect what are we bounde the one to others care Whereas good nature bids go méete thy friends distresse And beare some parte of his mishap that he may beare the lesse If friend to friend thus doe who faster friend should bee Then he alas in thy distresse that nought will doe for thée Ah wofull man he sayth thy lotte hath falne thée so That sowrce of sorrowes thée besets with waues of wailful wo. When he where fauour most thou shouldst by nature finde Doth causelesse shake thée of in care shewes himselfe vnkinde O wretch in dolor drencht O minde with mone opprest O gulfe of griefe O sea of sighes that straine the pensiue brest If wel by Pen thou couldst thy present passions showe The harl that hardned nowe remaines woulde soone relente I knowe But sith my hap is such as reape may no redresse Come forth you Forrest Driads all your mournefull Tunes expresse Drawe néere you Satyrs fower and straine your dolefull cryes To wayle the woes of him alas in languor déepe that lyes Be witnesse woodes and Fields ye Trées recorde my bale You Naides eke that haunt the Springs repeate my wofull tale And say vnto the wight that bydes vnfriendly bente How death would be so swéete to me as ioy to his contente For better twere of bothe then restlesse still remayne By ending quyte my lothed lyfe to ende my lingering payne Here sparing further spéeche aside he cast his eye And fynding me as one dismayde away he sought to flye Whose will when I perceaude to shunne my sight full bente I to him stept and askte the cause that moude him to lamente Wherto no worde he gaue but stands like one amazde And with a strange and gastly looke long tyme on me he gazde His face was thinne and leane his collour dim as leade His chéeks were wanne his body weake his eyes déepe sunck in head His hart straynde his minde tost his wyt with woe nere worne A rufull thing it was alas to viewe him so forlorne With déepe fet sighe from brest sent forth by inwarde payne His féeble voice and foltring tongue he gan at last to strayne And thus to me he sayde O what art thou in wo Me Myser wretche that
here dost finde with griefe perplexed so Whose present state to learne why dost thou thus require Smale gayne to thée great paine to me to yéelde so thy desire Yet sithe against my will thine eares haue heard the plainte Which in this desarte place I paste to ease my brest attainte Thus much at thy request I further will reueale As for the rest this corps of mine for euer shall conceale Whom earst a friend I founde me causlesse hath forsaken What wouldst thou more this is the summe that I with sighes am shaken But cruel fate I feare doth force it so to be Adue farewell let this suffice inquier no more of me Which saide away he goes God knoweth a wofull wight And leaues me there with sorrow fraight y t sought to take delight ¶ Of Fancie THe kindled sparkes of fyre that Fancies motions moue Do force me féele though I ne sée nor know not what is loue Desyre on ruth doth runne imbracing griefe for game Whose ioye is like the Flies delight that fries amid the flame It yéelds and mercy craues yet wots not who makes warres The only thing it sées or knowes is one that loue preferres ¶ Aunswere YOu loue belike to fréese amid the flame To wéepe in ioye to ioy in great distresse To laugh in teares to leape and yet be lame Midst gréeuous myrth gladsome heauinesse To sinck in dread and not to séeke redresse You Titius lyke doe play this wofull parte You loue the Grype that tyers vpon your harte ¶ Euer sought neuer founde THe more I striue the stronger is my thrall The stronger thrall the weaker still mine ayde The weaker ayde the greater griefe doth fall The greater griefe the more with doubt dismayde Where lyfe I reache there dollor biddes me die In swéetest soyle I straine the greatest Snake My cares increase when comfort drawes most nie From dainty pray I pearsing poyson take Still pynde in tolde I parched am with heate As fyre I flye vpon the flame I runne In swelting gleames my chylly corps I beate Congealde to Ice where shynes the cléerest sunne Loe thus I lyue and lyuing thus I dye Drownde in dispayre with hope aduaunced hye ¶ A Poesie THe valiant minde by venture gaines the Goale Whyles fearefull wightes in doubt doe blow the coale ¶ Aunswere BUt wary wightes by wisedome shunne the snare When venterous minds through hast are wrapt in care ¶ Euery thing is as it is taken SOme onely for disporte a kinde of myrth doth rayse For which of some they finde dislyke of some they purchase prayse The Tale that some clowte vp with rude vnciuill sence Doth more delight the eares of some then swéetest eloquence The Foole sometimes doth please when wise aside are shake Then true it is that euery thing is as men liste it take Who hath by knowledge skyll of euery foote the length Or can he always hit the marke y t drawes the greatest strengthe Some carpe at others factes that nought themselues will vewe And some by high disdaine doe séeke to mende Apelles shue What some in others spurne themselues would not forsake But wylie Foxe from lofty Uine doth vow no grapes to take A worde paste forth in sporte to earnest oft doth turne So where there was no fire before great flames on sodain burne Not one mans children all echs Nature is not léeke But who hath mean to measure wil shal giue the greater gléeke First looke then leape the blind doth run in many a brake And eche thing still by proofe we sée is as men list it take Who so doth rule his rage by wisdoms sacred skill No doubt shal shunne ful great annoy that follows rashnes still And who his tongue can stay till place and time doe serue His mind at large may better speake and greater praise deserue Though friends like friends would shade the sun beams for thy sake Yet al things are assuredly as men them list to take But al not friends in déede of friendships bounds that bostes Take héede no house may long indure propt vp w c rotten postes Some rotten are at harte yet beares a friendly face And vnder cloke of fawning shews a Serpents sting thimbrace Tis hard to know of whom we certaine counte may make For though they smile yet thee they déeme as they thée list to take As they thée list to take suche shalbe their reporte Malicious minds are euer prest against the vertuous sorte Be chary in thy choice least frawde thy faith abuse Of sundrie sectes embrace the best the flattering flock refuse Thus warely runne thy race eschew the lurcking Snake Imbrace the good as for the rest no force how they thée sake ¶ To his Lady of her doubtfull aunswere TWixt death and doubtfulnesse Twixt paine and pensiuenesse Twixt Hell and heauynesse Rests all my carefulnesse O vaine securitie That will not libertie Fye on that fantasie That brings captiuitie My lyfe is lothsomnesse My pleasure pastimelesse My ende your doubtfulnesse If you be mercylesse In doubt is iealoste Hope helpeth miserie Most women commonly Haue aunswers readily ¶ Helpe best welcome when most needefull THe bitter smarte that straines my mated minde Through quelling cares that threate my woful wrack Doth prick me on against my wyll I finde To pleade for grace or else to pine in lack As fainting soule sokt vp with sickly paine Prayeth Phisicks aide in hope of helth againe Whilste Sea roomes serues the shipman feares no foyle In quiet Porte there néedes no Pilotes Arte But when through wearie winters tyring toyle Cléere Sommers calmes to carefull clowds conuarte And streaming stormes at hand do danger threate Then Masters ayde is sought in perrill great So I right Noble Péere and Lodestarre mine Whose Pynnis smale an vpright course hath ronne In seruice yours am forced nowe in fine Mine ancors worne my sayles and tackling donne In humblest wise your honors help to craue My foredriuen ship from swallowing vp to saue You are the Hauen whereon my hope depends And I the Barck vpon the drie shore dryuen You eke the lan̄de that chéerefull Pilotte lends And I the wight whom Seas to wrack hath giuen What resteth then if Harbour you denye But that my shyp must perishe sinck and dye For now to late to sownde some other shore And he that hath and should by nature ayde Withdrawes his hande and sayth he may no more Loe thus alas I liue lyke one dismayde Twixte death and doubt still surgde vpon the sande Stayde vp by hope to light on fyrmer lande But oh O me where Autumne fruitelesse slydes A barren hope to Hiems falles by kinde In Haruest tyme whose trauaile nought prouydes A nypping Winter shall be sure to finde So carelesse youth that wastes his yeares in vaine In age repents bereft of hope or gaine As yeares increase vncertaine hope séemes harde When sicknesse sharpe hath gathered greatest force Then Phisicks cure doth séeme a swéete rewarde Which you may yéelde if please you take
doth sinke me lowe ¶ No griefe to wante of due regarde WHere sorrow sunck in breast hath sokt vp euery ioye What comfort there but cruel care the source of sharpe anoy Adieu delightfull dayes that wretch right well may say Whose good endeuour made him dreame till wakt w c cold decay Adieu deluding hope that lulde thee so on sléepe As sléepe thy sences so bereaude that waking yet dost sléepe Sith all the fruite thou findst for long imployed paine Falles out but brakes brambles sharpe how mayst thou teares refraine When ruth is made rewarde for fayth that fauour sought What hart can choose but pine away in plaint pensiue thought And cursse eche practise still through drift of glosing guiles That dandled on true meaning minds by frawde hellish wiles To serue their turnes tyll they vnto the bones are worne And then on sodaine shake them off in greatest néede forlorne Most like the wormes that féede vpon the kernels swéete For saking huske when foode is spente to perishe vnder féete So they the hartes of men doe gnawe in péeces sinale When youth and coine are both consumde y t leaues them to their thrale As some by to much proofe haue tryed all to true Enforst to bid their golden time so fruitlesse spent adiewe ¶ Of Anger APoyson piercing to the death A Traytor to the lyfe A Foe to friendships constancie a friend to deadly stryfe Armed agaynst good counsels force weake in aduersitie A spoyler of such guiltlesse blood as is condemde by thée A troubled wyt a reaklesse hande a wrathfull hart to spill A partiall Judge a iealous wyfe where anger hath her will A wastefull pursse a greedie Foe a false suspecting thing A tickle stay a prowde disgrace a cruell Serpents sting A whip to ease a rack to rule a furie to good rest A black infecting Spring they saye that poysons man and beast A hastie heate a burning flame a wylde deuouring whelpe A forcelesse winde a furie short and last a silly helpe ¶ A New yeares gyfte L LOng may you lyue and happy yeares enioye A Among your friends to staye in blisfull state D Deuoyde of Foes safe shrowded from annoye I In all your workes God graunt you happy fate K Kindle your care to compasse heauenly things P Presse downe the worlde let not his power preuayle E Estéeme him not a Syrens song he sings M Most happy they where most his flatteries fayle B Beginne no acte but fyrst foresée the ende R Reache forth your hande to helpe the néedie still O Obserue such rules as may your state defende O Offence forbeare feare euer to doe ill K Knowe God and séeke his holy hests to holde E Example giue to make the good more bolde ¶ Another L LEt wisedome welde your witte and all your wayes A Among the best your credite twill enhaunce D Detest eche Uice by Uertue purchase prayse I In Noble moulde a Noble minde aduaunce M March on with those gainst frayle desyres that fight A And gayne the Gole where glorye great doth dwell R Resist eche wrong endeuour to doe right I Imbrace good will of such as wishe you well S Suspend to déeme the worst what euer bréede A And poyse eche poynte before you verdit giue V Untill you syft the depth of doubts in deede I It skill shall shewe to let the matter liue L Last beare in minde as course doth chaunge the yeare E Euen so all Natures workes in time doe weare ¶ Another L LAy downe your Pens that pen vnworthy prayse A Aduaunsing Dames which naught may claime by right D Direct your course a Ladies fame to raise I In eche respect that well deserues your light G Grace is a gifte deuyne giuen from aboue C Cancell the scrowles that others praise pretende A All writs are voyde that substance none doe proue V Uertue and blood this Lady both commende E Eche perfite good in her doth fyrmely rest N Noble by byrth by Nature affable D Disposed well all ill she doth detest I In euery action modest and stable S Set shape aside where Uertue hath no place H Here shape and Uertue both are ioynde in Grace ¶ Another T TYme and trust doth trie both weake and sure O O blisfull hap that trust in time maye reache T The patients paine which sicknesse doth procure H Hath health or onde at last to be his leache E Effects alas I see doe fall out harde L Lost labor reapes the crop of lyngering griefe A And friendships force through falshoode is debarde D Despite denies deserte to reache reliefe I I sée some smyle as they wers gyrte with gladnesse S Stayde vp by hope though â—â—â—ncht in deepe dispayre P Preferring sporte but daunted downe with sadnesse E Enioying nought yet faine to flye in th'ayre K Kept farre from you God graunt all such almoye E Embraste to be with them that lyue in ioye ¶ An Epitaph WHat hydes this hearse but quiet silente reste The surest ende of his vncertayne time Whome neyther sworde nor fyre nor age opprest But to his Ghost gaue way in haste to clime Aloft loe here the iustice of such fatall breath To haue a God the author of his death Fayth and good nature honor death and ryse The Noble harte procureth fauour moste These markes these flowres of his age are ryse Wherein both soule and shâ—â—â—e may iustly boste Where his desyres lodge the Gods can tell Here lyeth the corse that liued and died so well ¶ A Dreame TO clime the high and hauty hyll Where Poets preace for praise by skyll I list no labour waste The water Nimphes I neuer vewde Nor Ladies of the Lake persewde That poore Acteon chaste King Arthurs Knights long since are fled In force that did excell And all those Ladies nowe lye dead Whose lyues olde Poets tell Reuealing their dealing I purpose not to wryte But dreaming a straunge thing Loe héere I doe recyte A fayre Pauillion finely pight In sléepe appeared in my sight Amidst whereof in gréene and white The Goddesse sate of all delight Be set about with Ladies true Which did to her such seruice due As fewe I déeme the like hath séene I done to any earthly Quéene Her Nimphes all they were Of such comely théere Helens face may giue place Where they appéere THese Ladies on this Goddesse bright Attendance gaue both daye and night To worke what she would will Some sitting héere some standing there As for the tyme they placed were According to their skill For Venus then in Maiestie Me thought at Banket sate Attended on most curiously As best beséemde her state Some seruing Some caruing In Office as they stoode Some playing Some singing With glad and chéerefull moode That sure me thought in Heauen I was To sée this sight it so did passe But at the last this Banket past Of Suters then a Noble route There did appeare with drooping cheare Beséeching Venus them to heare Who straight enclynde with wylling mynde