loue and leaue is all that I entend And yf you prooue in part and finde my counsell true Then wyshe me well for my good wyll t is all I craue adewe Finis My lucke is losse The perfect tryall of a faythfull freend NOt stayed state but feeble stay Not costly robes but bare aray Not passed wealth but present want Not heaped store but sclender skant Not plenties purse but poore estate Not happy happe but froward fate Not wyshe at wyll but want of ioy Not harts good health but hartes annoy Not freedomes vse but prisons thrall Not costly seate but lowest fall Not weale I meane but wretched woe Dooth truely trye the freend from foe And nought but froward fortune proues Who fawning faines or simply loues Finis Yloop. No pleasure without some payne SWeete were the ioyes that both might like and last Strange were the state exempt from all distresse Happy the lyfe that no mishap should tast Blessed the chaunce might neuer change successe Were such a lyfe to leade or state to proue Who would not wyshe that such a lyfe were loue But O the sowry sauce of sweete vnsure When pleasures flye and flee with wast of winde The trustlesse traynes that hoping hartes allure When sweete delightes doo but allure the minde When care consumes and wastes the wretched wight Whyle fancy feedes and drawes of her delight What lyfe were loue yf loue were free from payne But O that payne with pleasure matcht should meete Why dyd the course of nature so ordayne That sugred sowre must sause the bitter sweete Which sowre from sweete might any meanes remoue What happe what heauen what lyfe were lyke to loue Finis E. S. 1. Our pleasures are vanities BEhold the blast which blowes the blossomes from the tree The end whereof consumes and comes to nought we see Ere thou therefore be blowen from life that may not last Begin for grace to call for time mispent and past Haue mind on brittle life whose pleasures are but vayne On death likewyse bethinke how thou maist not remaine And feare thy Lord to greene which sought thy soule to saue To synne no more be bent but mercie aske and haue For death who dooth not spare the kinges on earth to kill Shall reape also from thee thy pleasure life and will. That lyfe which yet remaynes and in thy brest appeares Hath sowne in thée sutch seedes you ought to weede with teares And life that shall succeede when death is worne and past Shall spring for euer then in ioy or paine to last Where death on life hath power ye see that life also Hath mowen the fruites of death which neuer more shall growe FINIS D. S. 2. M. Edwardes MAY. WHen MAY is in his prime then MAY eche hart reioyce When MAY bedeckes eche branch with greene eche bird streines forth his voyce The liuely sappe creepes vp into the bloming thorne The flowres which cold in prison kept now laughes the frost to scorne All natures Impes triumphes whyles ioyfull May dooth last When MAY is gone of all the yeere the pleasant time is past MAY makes the cherfull hue MAY breedes and bringes newe blood MAY marcheth throughout euery limme MAY makes the mery moode MAY pricketh tender hartes their warbling notes to tune Ful strange it is yet some wee see doo make their MAY in Iune Thus thinges are straungely wrought whyles ioyfull MAY doth last Take MAY in time when MAY is gone the pleasant time is past All ye that liue on earth and haue your MAY at wyll Reioyce in MAY as I doo now and vse your MAY with skill Vse MAY whyle that you may for MAY hath but his time When all the fruite is gone it is to late the tree to clime Your liking and your lust is freshe whyles MAY dooth last When MAY is gone of all the yeere the pleasaunt time is past Finis 3. Faire woordes make fooles faine IN youthfull yeeres when fyrst my young desyres began To pricke mee foorth to serue in Court a sclender tall young man. My Fathers blessing then I askt vpon my knee Who blessing me with trembling hand these woordes gan say to me My sonne God guide thy way and shielde thee from mischaunce And make thy iust desartes in Court thy poore estate to aduaunce Yet when thou art become one of the Courtly trayne Thinke on this prouerbe olde qd he that faire woordes make fooles faine This counsell grauely geuen most strange appeares to me Tyll tract of time with open eyes had made me plainely see What subtill sleightes are wrought by painted tales deuise When hollowe hartes with freendly shoes the simple doo entise To thinke al golde that shines to feede their fonde desire Whose shiuering cold is warmd with smoke in stead of flaming fire Sith talke of tickle trust dooth breede a hope most vaine This prouerbe true by proofe I finde that faire woordes make fooles faine Faire speache alway doeth well where deedes insue faire woordes Faire speache againe alway dooth euil that busshes geues for birdes Who hopes to haue fayre woordes to trye his luckie lot If I may counsel let him strike it whyle the iron is hotte But them that feede on cloddes in steade of pleasaunt grapes And after warning often geuen for better lucke still gapes Full loth I am yet must I tell them in woordes plaine This prouerbe old proues true in them that faire words makes fooles faine Wo woorth the time that woordes so slowly turne to deedes Wo worth the time that faire sweete floures are growē to rotten weedes But thrise wo woorth the time that trueth away is fled Wherein I see how simple hartes with woordes are vainely fed Trust no faire woordes therefore where no deedes doo ensue Trust words as skilful Falkeners doo trust Haukes that neuer flew Trust deedes let wodrdes be woordes which neuer wrough me gaine Let my experience make you wyse and let woordes make fooles faine M. Edwardes 4. In his extreame sycknesse What greeues my bones and makes my body faint What prickes my flesh and teares my head in twaayne Why doo I wake when rest should me attaynt When others laugh why doo I liue in paine I tosse I turne I change from side to side And stretche me oft in sorowes linkes betyde I tosse as one betost in waues of care I turne to flee the woes of lothsome lyfe I change to spie yf death this corps might spare I stretche to heauen to ridde me of this strife Thus doo I stretche and change and tosse and turne Whyle I in hope of heauen by life doo burne Then holde thee still let be thy heauinesse Abolishe care forgeat thy pining woe For by this meanes soone shalt thou finde redresse When oft betost hence thou to heauen must goe Then tosse and turne and tumble franke and free O happy thryse when thou in heauen shalt be Finis L. Vaux 5. For Christmas day Reioyce reioyce with hart and voyce In Christes birth this day
harme And last of all which is not least of all For such offence thy conscience suffer shall As barren groundes bringes foorth but rotten weedes From barren woordes so fruitelesse chaffe proceedes As sauerie flowres doo spring in fertill ground So trusty freendes by tryed freendes are found To shunne therefore the woorst that may ensue Let deèdes alway approue thy sayinges true Finis F. K. 15. Who wyll aspire to dignitie By learnyng must aduaunced be THE poore that liue in needie rate By learning doo great richesse gayne The riche that liue in wealthy state By learnyng doo their wealth mainteyne Thus ritch and poore are furthered still By sacred rules of learned skill All fond conceites of franticke youth The golden gyft of learning stayes Of doubtfull thinges to searche the trueth Learning sets foorth the reddy wayes O happy him doo I repute Whose brest is fraught with learninges fruite There growes no Corne within the feelde That Oxe and Plough did neuer tyll Right so the mind no fruite can yeelde That is not lead by learninges skill Of ignoraunce comes rotten weedees Of learnyng springes right noble deedes Like as the Captayne hath respect To trayne his souldiers in aray So Learning dooth mans mind direct By Vertues staffe his lyfe to stay Though Freendes and Fortune waxeth skant Yet learned men shall neuer want You Impes therefore in youth be sure To fraught your mindes with learned thinges For Learning is the fountayne pure Out from the which all glory springes Who so therefore wyll glory winne With Learning fyrst must needes beginne Finis F. K. 16. Mans flitting life fyndes surest stay Where sacred Vertue beareth sway THE sturdy Rocke for all his strength By raaging Seas is rent in twayne The Marble stone is pearst at length With little droppes of drislyng rayne The Oxe dooth yeelde vnto the yoke The Steele obeyeth the hammer stroke The stately Stagge that seemes so stout By yalpyng Houndes at bay is set The swiftest Bird that flees about Is caught at length in Fowlers net The greatest Fishe in deepest Brooke Is soone deceiued with subtil hooke Ye man him selfe vnto whose wyll All thinges are bounden to obay For all his witte and woorthy skill Dooth fade at length and fall away There is nothing but time dooth wast The Heauens the Earth consume at last But Vertue sittes triumphing still Vpon the Trone of glorious Fame Though spitefull Death mans body kill Yet hurtes he not his vertuous name By Life or death what so be tides The state of Vertue neuer slides Finis M. T. 17. Nothing is comparable vnto a faithfull freend SIth this our time of Freendship is so scant Sith Freendship nowe in euery place dooth want Sith euery man of Freendship is so hollowe As no man rightly knowes which way to followe Sease not my Muse cease not in these our dayes To ryng loude peales of sacred Freendships prayse If men be nowe their owne peculier freendes And to their neighbours Freendship none pretendes If men of Freendship shewe them selues so bare And of their brethren take no freendly care Forbeare not then my Muse nor feare not then To ryng disprayse of these vnfreendly men Did man of Freendship knowe the mightie power Howe great effectes it woorketh euery houre What store of hidden freendship it retaynes How still it powreth foorth aboundaunt gaynes Man would with thee my muse in these our dayes Ryng out loude peales of sacred Freendships prayse Freendship releeueth mans necessitie Freendship comforteth mans aduersitie Freendship augmenteth mans prosperitie Frendship preferres man to felicitie Then ryng my muse ryng out in these our dayes Ring out loude peales of sacred Freendships prayse Of Freendship groweth loue and charitie By Freendship men are linked in amitie From Freendship springeth all commoditie The fruite of Freendship is fidelitie Oh ryng my Muse ryng out in these our dayes Peale vpon peale of sacred Freendships prayse That man with man true Freendship may embrace That man to man may shewe a freendly face That euery man may sowe such freendly seedes As Freendship may be found in freendly deedes And ioyne with me my Muse in these our dayes To ryng loude peales of sacred Freendships prayse Finis F. K. 18. Respise finem TO be as wyse as CATO was Or ritch as CRESVS in his life To haue the strength of Hercules Whiche did subdue by force or strife What helpeth it when Death doth call The happy ende exceedeth all The Ritche may well the Poore releeue The Rulers may redresse eche wrong The Learned may good counsell geue But marke the ende of this my song Who dooth these thinges happy they call Their happy ende exceedeth all The happiest end in these our dayes That all doo seeke both small and great Is eyther for Fame or els for Prayse Or who may sltte in highest seate But of these thinges hap what hap shall The happy ende exceedeth all A good beginning oft we see But seeldome standyng at one stay For fewe doo lyke the meme degree Then prayse at parting some men say The thing whereto eache wight is thrall The happy ende exceedeth all The meane estate that happy life Whiche liueth vnder gouernaunce Who seekes no hate nor breedes no strife But takes in woorth his happy chaunce If contentation him befall His happy end exceedeth all The longer lyfe that we desyre The more offence dooth dayly growe The greater paine it dooth require Except the Iudge some mercie shewe Wherefore I thinke and euer shall The happy ende exceedeth all Finis D. S. 19. He perswadeth his freend from the fond effectes of loue WHY art thou bound and maist goe free Shall reason yeelde to raging wyll Is thraldome like to libertie Wylt thou exchange thy good for ill Then shalt thou learne a childishe play And of eche part to taste and proue The lookers on shall iudge and say Loe this is he that liues by loue Thy wittes with thoughtes shal stand at stay Thy head shall haue but heauie rest Thy eyes shall watche for wanton prayes Thy tongue shall shewe thy hartes request Thy eares shall heare a thousand noyse Thy hand shall put thy pen to paine And in the ende thou shalt dispraise The life so spent for such small gaine If leue and list might neuer cope Nor youth to runne from reasons race Nor yf strong sute might winne sure hope I would lesse blame a louers case For loue is hotte with great desire And sweete delight makes youth so fond That little sparkes wyl prooue great fyre And bring free hartes to endlesse bond Finis 20. Wantyng his desyre be complayneth THe sayling ships with ioy at lenght do touche the long desired port The hewing axe the oke doth waste the battring Canon breakes the fort Hard hagard Haukes stope to the lure wild coâ—s in time the bridle tames There is nothing so out of vre but to his kinde long time it frames Yet this I finde in time no time can winne my sute Though oft the
that none so festred greefe Dooth grow for which the gods them selues haue not ordeynd releefe But I by proofe doo knowe such prouerbes to be vayne And thinke that Nature neuer knewe the plague which I sustayne And so not knowyng my distresse Hath leaft my greefe remedilesse For why the heauens for me prepare To liue in thought and dye in care Oh lastyng payne By chaunge of ayre I see by haute of healthfull soyle By dyet duely kept grose humours are expeld I know that greefes of minde and inward heartes turmoile By faithfull frendes aduise in time may be repeld Yet all this nought auailes to kill that me anoyes I meane to stoppe these floudes of care that ouerflow my ioyes No none exchaunge of place can chaunge my lucklesse lot Like one I liue and so must die whome Fortune hath forgoe No counsell can preuaile with mee Nor sage aduise with greefe agree For he that feeles the paines of hell Can neuer hope in heauen to dwell Oh deepe despaire What liues on earth but I whose trauaile reapes no gaine The wearyed Horse and Oxe in stall and stable rest The Ante with sommers toyle beares out the winters paine The Fowle that flies all day at night retournes to rest The Ploughmans weary worke amid the winters mire Rewarded is with somers gaine which yeeldes him double hire The sillye laboring soule which drudges from day to day At night his wages truely paide contented goth his way And comming home his drowsie hed He cowcheth close in homely bed Wherein no sooner downe he lies But sleepe hath straight possest his eyes Oh happie man. The Souldier biding long the brunt of mortall warres Where life is neuer free from dint of deadly foyle At last comes ioyfull home though mangled all with scarres Where frankly voyde of feare he spendes the gotten spoyle The Pirate lying long amidde the fooming floodes With euery flawe in hazard is to loose both life and goodes At length findes view of land where wished Porte he spies Which once obtained among his mates he partes the gotten prise Thus euery man for trauaile past Doth reape a iust reward at last But I alone whose troubled minde In seeking rest vnrest doth finde Oh lucklesse lotte Oh curssed caitife wretche whose heauie harde mishappe Doth wish tenne thousande times that thou hadst not bene borne Since fate hathe thee condemned to liue in sorrowes lappe Where waylinges waste thy life of all redresse forlorne What shall thy griefe appease who shall thy torment stay Wilt thou thy selfe with murthering handes enforce thy owne decay No farre be thou from me my selfe to stoppe my breath The gods forbid whom I beseeche to worke my ioyes by death For lingering length of lothed life Doth stirre in mee such mortall strife That whiles for life and death I crie In Death I liue and liuing die Oh froward fate Loe heere my hard mishappe loe heere my straunge disease Loe heere my deepe despaire loe heere my lasting paine Loe heere my froward fate which nothing can appease Loe heere how others toyle rewarded is with gaine While luckelesse loe I liue in losse of laboures due Compeld by proofe of torment strong my endlesse greefe to rue In which since needes I must consume both youth and age If olde I liue and that my care no comfort can asswage Henceforth I banishe from my brest All frustrate hope of future rest And truthlesse trust to times reward With all respectes of ioyes regard Here I forsweare 39 Where reason makes request there wisedome ought supplie With friendly answere prest to graunt or else denie I Sigh why so for sorrowe of her smart I morne wherfore for greefe that shee complaines I pitie what her ouerpressed hart I dread what harme the daunger shee sustaines I greeue where at at her oppressing paines I feele what forse the fittes of her disease Whose harme doth me and her alike displease I hope what happe her happy healthes retyre I wishe what wealth no wealth nor worldly store But craue what craft by cunnyng to aspyre Some skyll whereto to salue her sickly sore What then why then would I her health restore Whose harme me hurtes howe so so woorkes my wyll To wyshe my selfe and her lyke good and yll What moues the mind whereto to such desyre Ne force ne fauour what then free fancies choyse Art thou to choose my charter to require Eache Ladyes loue is fred by customes voyce Yet are there grauntes the euidence of theyr choyse What then our freedome is at lardge in choosyng As womens willes are froward in refusing Wotes she thy wyll she knowes what I protest Daynde she thy sute she daungerd not my talke Gaue she consent she graunted my request What dydst thou craue the roote the fruite or stalke I asked them all what gaue she Cheese or chalke That taste must try what taste I meane the proofe Of freendes whose wyls withhold her bowe aloofe Meanst thou good fayth what els hopest thou to speede Why not O foole vntaught in carpet trade Knowest not what proofes from such delayes proceede Wylt thou like headles Cocke be caught in glade Art thou like Asse too apt for burden made Fy fy wyl thou for saint adore the shrine And woo her freend eare she be wholy thine Who drawes this drift moued she or thou this match T was I oh foole vnware of womens wyles Long mayst thou wayte like hungry houndes at hatche She crafty Foxe the seely Goose beguiles Thy sute is shaped so fyt for long delay That shee at wyll may chek from yea to nay But in good soothe tell me her frendes intent Best learne it first their purpose I not knowe Why then thy will to woorse and worse is bent Dost thou delight the vnkindled cole to blowe Or childelike louest in anckred bote to rowe What meane these termes who sith thy sute is such Know of or on or thou afect to much No haste but good why no the meane is best Admit shee loue mislike in lingring growes Suppose shee is caught then Woodcocke on thy crest Till end approues what skornefull sedes shee sowes In loytring loue such dangers ebbes and flowes What helpe herein why wake in dangerous watch That too nor fro may make thee marre the match Is that the way to ende my wery woorke By quicke dispatch to lesson long turmoyle Well well though losse in lingering wontes to lurke And I a foole most fitte to take the foyle Yet proofe from promise neuer shall recoyle My woordes with deedes and deedes with woordes shal wend Tyll shee or hers gayuesay that I entend Art thou so fond not fond but firmely fast Why foole her freendes wote how thy wyl is bent Yet thou lyke doult whose witte and sense is past Sest not what frumpes doo folowe thy entent Ne knowe how loue in lewe of skorne is lent Adewe for sightes such folly should preuent Well well their skoffes with scornes might be repaid If my requestes were fully yead or
will I loue though she be coye H. A foole hym self will still anoye M. Who will not die for suche a one H. Be wise at length let her alone M. I can not doe so H. then be thy owne foe M. Alas I die H. what remedie Finis E. S. ¶ A louers ioye I Haue no ioye but dreame of ioye and ioye to thinke on ioye A ioye I withstoode for to enioye to finishe myne anoye I hate not without cause alas yet loue I knowe not why I thought to hate I can not hate although that I should die A foe moste swete a frende moste sower I ioye for to embrace I hate the wrong and not the wight that workt my wofull case What thyng it is I knowe not I but yet a thyng there is That in my fancie still perswads there is no other blisse The ioyes of life the pangs of death it make me feele eche daie But life nor death this humour can deuise to weare awaie Faine would I dye but yet in death no hope I see remaines And shall I liue since life I see a sourse of sorie paines What is it then that I doe seke what ioye would I aspire A thyng that is deuine belike to high for mans desire Finis FK ¶ The iudgement of desire THe liuely Larke did stretche her wyng The messenger of mornyng bright And with her cherefull voyce did syng The daies approche dischargyng night When that Aurora blushyng redd Discride the gilt of Thetis bedd Laradon tan tan Tedriton teight I went abroad to take the aire And in the meadds I mett a knight Clad in carnation colour faire I did salute the youthfull wight Of hym I did his name enquire He sight and saied I am desire Laradon tan tan Tedriton teight Desire I did desire to staie A while with hym I craued talke The courteous wight saied me no naie But hande in hande with me did walke Then in desire I askte againe What thing did please and what did pain Laradon tan tan He smild and thus he answered me Desire can haue no greater paine Then for to see an other man The thyng desired to obtaine No ioye no greater to then this Then to inioye what others misse Laridon tan tan Finis E. O. ¶ The complaint of a louer wearyng Blacke and Tawnie. A Croune of Bayes shall that man weare That triumphs ouer me For blacke and Tawnie will I weare Whiche mournyng colours be The more I folowed on the more she fled awaie As Daphne did full long agone Apollos wishfull praie The more my plaints resounde the lesse she pities me The more I saught the lesse I founde that myne she ment to be Melpomeney alas with dolefull tunes helpe than And syng bis wo worthe on me â–ª forsaken man Then Daphnes baies shal that man weare that triumphs ouer me For Blacke Taunie will I weare which monrnyng colours be Droune me you tricklyng teares you wailefull wights of woe Come help these haÌ„ds to reÌ„t my heares my rufull happs to showe On whom the scorchyng flames of loue doeth feede you se Ah a lalalantida my deare dame hath thus tormented me Wherefore you Muses nine with dolefull tunes helpe than And syng Bis wo worthe on me forsaken man Then Daphnes Baies shall that man weare that triumps euer me For Blacke Taunie will I weare which mourning colours be An Ancres life to leade with nailes to scratche my graue Where earthly Wormes on me shall fede is all the ioyes I craue And hid my self from shame sith that myne eyes doe see Ah a alantida my deare dame hath thus tormented me And all that present be with dolefull tunes helpe than And syng Bis woe worthe on me forsaken man. Finis E.O. ¶ He complaineth thus LO heare the man that must of loue complaine Lo heare that seas that feeles no kinde of blisse Lo here I seke for ioye and finde but paine Lo what despite can greater be then this To freze to death and stande yet by the fire And she that shonneth me moste I doe desire L. But shall I speake alas or shall I die A. By death no helpe in speache some helpe doeth lie L. Then from that breast remoue a Marble minde A. As I see cause so are ye like to finde L. I yelde my self what would you more of me A. You yelde but for to winne and conquer me L. Saâ—e and kill not madame A. Forsake your sute for shame No no no no not so O happie man now vaunt thy self That hath this conquest gainde And now doeth liue in greate delight That was so lately painde Triumph triumph triumph wholouers be Thrise happie is that woyng That is not long a doyng Triumph triumph triumph that hath like victorie Finis ¶ Findyng no relief he complaineth thus IN quest of my relief I finde distresse In recompence of loue moste depe disdaine My langour is suche words maie not expresse A shower of teares my watrishe eye doeth raine I dreame of this and doe deuine of wo I wander in the thoughts of my swete fo I would no peace the cause of warre I flie I hope I feare I burne I chill in froste I lye alowe yet mounts my minde on hie Thus doubtfull stormes my troubled thoughts haue toste And for my paine this pleasure doe I proue I hate my self and pine in others loue The worlde I graspe yet holde I nought at all At libertie I seme in prison pent I taste the sweete more lower then bitter gall My shipp semes sounde and yet her ribbs be rent And out alas on Fortune false I crie Looke what I craue that still she doeth denie Bothe life and death be equall vnto me I doe desire to die yet craue I life My witts with sondrie thoughts doe disagre My self am with my self at mortall strife As warmth of sonne doeth melte the siluer Snowe The heate of loue beholde consumes me so Finis R.H. ¶ Beyng in loue he complaineth VVHat dome is this I faine would knowe That demeth all by contraries What God or whether height or lowe Now would I learne some warrantise Some saie the blinded God aboue Is he that woorketh all by loue But he that stirreth strife the truthe to tell I alwaies feele but knowe not well Some saie Alecto with her mates Are thei whiche breedeth all anoye Who sitts like Haggs in hellishe gates And seeks still whom thei maie destroye Some saie againe t is destinie But how it comes or what it is I let it passe before I misse Despite doeth alwaies worke my wo And happ as yet holds hardly still For feare I set my frendshipp so And thinke againe to reape good will. I doe but striue against the winde For more I seeke the lesse I finde And where I seeke moste for to please There finde I alwaies my desease And thus I loue and doe reape still Nothyng but hate for my good will. Finis L. V. A louer disdained complaineth IF euer man had loue to
posteritie aliue I doe hym wrong Whom I might well condempne to be a cruell iudge Vnto my self who hath the crime in others that I grudge Finis E. O. ¶ Beyng disdained he complaineth IF frendlesse faithe if giltlesse thought maie shield If simple truthe that neuer ment to swerue If dere desire accepted frute doe yield If greedie lust in loyall life doe serue Then maie my plaint bewaile my heauie harme That sekyng calme haue stombled on the storme My wonted cheare ecclipsed by the cloude Of deepe disdaine through errour of reporte If wearie woe enwrapped in thy shroude Lies slaine by tonge of the vnfrendly sorte Yet heauen and yearth and all that nature wrought I call to vowe of my vnspotted thought No shade I seke in parte to shilde my taint But simple truthe I hunt no other sute On that I gape the issue of my plaint If that I quaile let iustice me confute If that my place emongs the giltles sort Repaie by dome my name and good report Goe heauie verse persue desired grace Where pittie shrinde in cell of secret brest Awaits my hast the rightfull lott to place And lothes to see the giltles man opprest Whose vertues great haue crouned her more with fame Then kyngly state though largely shine the same Finis L. Vaux ¶ Of the meane estate THe higher that the Ceder tree vnder the heauens doe growe The more in danger is the top when sturdie winds gan blowe Who iudges then in princely throne to be deuoide of hate Doeth not yet knowe what heapes of ill lies hid in suche estate Suche dangers greate suche gripes of minde suche toile doe thei sustaine That oftentimes of God thei wishe to be vnkyngde againe For as the huge mightie rocks withstande the ragyng seas So kyngdoms in subiection be whereas dame Fortune please Of brittle ioye of smilyng cheare of honie mixt with gall Allotted is to euery Prince in fredome to be thrall What watches longe what stepps vnsure what grefes and cares of minde What bitter broiles what endles toiles to kyngdoms be assingde The subiect then maie well compare with prince for plesant daies Whose silent might bryngs quiet rest whose might no storme bewraies How muche be we then bounde to God who suche prouision maks To laye our cares vpon the Prince thus doeth he for our saks To hym therefore let vs lift vp our harts and praie a maine That euery Prince that he hath plast maie long in quiet raigne Finis L. V. ¶ Of a contented mynde VVHen all is doen and saied in the ende thus shall you finde The moste of all doeth bathe in blisse that hath a quiet minde And clere from worldly cares to deame can be content The swetest tyme in all his life in thinkyng to be spent The bodie subiect is to fickle Fortunes power And to a million of mishapps is casuall euery hower And death in tyme doeth chaunge it to a clodde of claye When as the mynde whiche is deuine runnes neuer to decaie Companion none is like vnto the mynde alone For many haue been harmde by speache through thinking fewe or none Fewe oftentymes restraineth words but maks not thoughts to cease And he speaks best that hath the skill when for to holde his peace Our wealth leaues vs at death our kinsmen at the graue But vertues of the mynde vnto the heauens with vs we haue Wherefore for vertues sake I can be well content The swetest tyme of all my life to deme in thinkyng spent Finis L. Vaux ¶ Trie before you trust TO counsell my estate abandonde to the spoile Of forged frendes whose grosest fraude it set with finest foile To verifie true dealyng wights whose trust no treason dreads And all to deare thacquaintance be of suche moste harmfull heads I am aduised thus who so doeth frende frende so As though to morrowe next he feared for to become a fo To haue a fained frende no perill like I finde Oft fleryng face maie mantell best a mischief in the mynde A paire of angels eares oft tymes doeth hide a serpents harte Vnder whose gripes who so doeth come to late cōplaines the smart Wherefore I doe aduise who so doeth frende frende soe As though to morrowe next he should become a mortall foe Refuse respectyng frends that courtly knowe to faine For gold that winnes for gold shall lose the self same frend againe The Quaile needs neuer feare in foulers netts to fall If he would neuer bende his eare to listen to his call Therefore trust not to sone but when you frende frende soe As though to morrowe next ye feard for to become a foe Finis L. Vaux ¶ He renounceth all the affectes of loue LIke as the Harte that lifteth vp his eares To heare the hounds that hath hym in the chafe Doeth cast the winde in daungers and in feares With fliyng foote to passe awaie apace So must I fly of loue the vaine pursute Whereof the gaine is lesser then the friute And I also must lothe those learyng looks Where loue doeth lurke still with a subtill slaight With painted mocks and inward hidden hooks To trapp by trust that lieth not in waite The ende whereof assaie it who so shall Is sugred smart and inward bitter gall And I also must flie suche Sirian songs Wherewith that Circes Vlisses did enchaunt These wilie Watts I meane with filed tongs That harts of steele haue power to daunt Who so as hauke that stoppeth to their call For moste desart receiueth least of all But woe to me that first behelde those eyes The trapp wherein I saie that I was tane An outward salue whiche inward me destroies Whereto I runne as Ratt vnto her bane As to the fishe sometyme it doeth befall That with the baite doeth swallowe hooke and all Within my breast wherewith I daiely fedd The vaine repast of amorous hot desire With loytryng lust so long that hath me fedd Till he hath brought me to the flamyng fire In tyme at Phenix ends her care and carks I make the fire and burne my self with sparks Finis L. Vaux ¶ Beyng in sorrowe he complaineth MIstrust misdemes amisse whereby displeasure growes And time delaied finds frēds afraied their faith for to disclose Suspect that breede the thought and thought to sighes conuarte And sighs haue sought a floud of teares wher sobbs do seke the hart Thus harte that meanes no harme must feede on sorrowes all Vntill suche tyme as pleaseth the iudge the truth in question call Though cause of greate mistrust before that iudge appeare My truthe and mercie of my iudge I trust shall set me cleare Report these rimes at large my truthe for to detecte Yet truthe in tyme shall trie it self and driue awaie suspecte Beleue not euery speache nor speake not all you heare For truthe and mercie of the iudge I trust shall set me cleare Finis L. V. ¶ Beyng in loue he complaineth ENforst by loue and feare to please and not offende Within the