of his heade from side to side To his deafe eares the pilgrime thus replied Thou cursed serpent grounde of al disgrace By Idlenes begetting Ignorance which dost the sprigges of fairest rootes deface with lothsome course of lifes discountenaunce And makst a pleasure of the spirits paine Die in thy dreame and neuer wake againe Sleepe is the soules discase the mindes despight The curse of Nature and the crosse of rest The thoughtes disquiet and the darkesome night wherein the spirit likes the body lest A losse of time and reasons malladie where death is found but sorrowes remedy The watching virgins kindely were receiued when such as slept did loose their happy houre In dreames the sences often are deceiued when waking wits finde shadowes haue no power Then sleepe thy last where life hath neuer place God graunt my soule to watch praie for grace When thus the head of hateful slouthfulnes was soncke into the filthy sincke of sinne The harmeful head of al vnhappines Did lechery this loathsome tale beginne Alas poore pilgrime childe of chast desire Hast thou bin burnt thou canst not bide the fier A gentle iest a man to be a maide what minsing humor doth the sences measure That Nature can of beauty be afraide And loose her prime before she know her pleasure Fleshe hath no fauour in diuinity Nor Nature pleasure in virginity The childe that knowes not how to make his choice Must be a babe so babishe let him bee But he that knowes how better to reioice will seeke a worlde where sweeter thoughtes agree No thinke of loue to be that pleasing thought That for his will sets all the worlde at nought What figure findes not loue out of a face what humors notes he not in euery heare In beauties eies what stars doth he not place what roses in her cheekes doth she not beare what hony in her lippes and sweeter worth In her faire ground but he can gather forth It whets the wit and doth embolden will And maketh Arte to worke beyond her selfe It maketh nature study reasons skill And in her humors play the pretty elfe It bringeth fancy to a deinty feast And makes a man that woulde be els a beast What deinty glaunces passe from eies to eies when sweete conceites are secretly conceiued what comfortes can the kissing hearts deuise where kinde effectes of fauour are receiued Age can reporte and youth doth daily prooue There is no comforte to the course of loue And with that worde did ende his wicked charme Vnto which sounde the pilgrime gan reply Thou hatefull head and grounde of euery harme Venum compounded all of villany A foule infection of the fairest creature Die in the filth of thy corrupted nature Thou sleepy slouth that figurste out the swine with groueling humors tumbling on the grounde That canst not thinke vpon a thought diuine But liu'st in dreames where all deceits are founde How durst thou speake in that foule thoughts defence which breedeth nothing but the soules offence Vertue and vice were neuer friendes in deede Diana knowes that Venus is no maide But faith that doth on heauenly blessing feede Of foolish beauty maie be well afraide when Natures pleasure in virginity Shewes flesh hath fauoure in diuinity Equality is but a childish humor He is alone that keepes the lofty seate what voice is hard where al are in a rumor Or who is seru'd where euery one is great why patience is the paterne of a villaine That neuer came neare to a Kings pauilion And with that word she fed vpon her Snakes As if her heart did like none other foode where to the pilgrime soone this answere makes Vngratious grifte and voide of heauenly good Feede on thy Snakes vntill the poison fill thee And thine owne cancker with corruption kill thee Equality is childrens blessednes where many brethren are but one in loue The voice hard sweete whose sounde is holinesse And God wel seru'd where graces glory proue And he that patience paternes for a villaine shal neuer know the King of heauens pauilion Thou neuer readst the booke of Christ his Crosse Nor canst endure so sweete an A B C But thou art bounde to liue with labours losse where al the woes of al the worlde maie be God giue my spirit grace to seeke no more Then goe the waie his Sainctes haue gone before When as it seemde the venum wrought so sore within the hart as poisned so the heade As shrinking downe it sight and spake no more But with the rest the filthy body fedde when started vp the head of Murthring wrath As newly cumme from out summe bloody bath VVho grating of his teeth with knitting brow Shaking his fist as if he mente to fight Thou patch quod he where art thou plodding now hath patience thinkst thou such a princely might That shee can thee against my force defende And bring thee safely to thy Iourneies ende My life is most to lay me downe in blood I can endure no daunting of mine eie I onely loue to feede on bloody foode whom I once cease on they are sure to die How durst thou then approch so neere my sight whose fury standes withal the worlde to fight Poore patient hartes are tost from post to post when bloody swordes doe walke the worlde with wonder Poore patience many a patrimony lost while will resolu'de put wit and reason vnder Patience is oft from princely seate puld downe while bloody mindes do brauely beare the crowne Pitty is knowen sometime to marre a citty And Anger oftentimes is cause of quiet Sometime as good be wilful as be witty when bloody dishes make a dainty diet what armes of honor to a bloody field where Anger 's hande makes patient harts to yeelde VVhen as it seemde halfe stuffed vp with blood Stopping his tale the pilgrime thus replied Choke vp thy throat with that foule butchers food That neuer couldst the sounde of mercy bide But dost consume the hart of many a creature Die in the fury of thy filthy nature Fret fume and chafe I feare not of thy force I plod with patience where thou canst not cumme My patience hath such power in her remorse As furies sences quickely wil benumme And by her prowesse stoutly so defende me That thou nor thine nor ought els offende me Then lie and bath and tumble in thy bloode And stare stampe til thou hast donne thy worst Thy foule adherents I haue all withstoode And thou art but a spirit all accurst who though thou makst a number know thy might Where patience cums thou hast no power to fight Poore patient harts are tost from paine to peace When bloody swords do breede but hellish woes And patience patrimony is no leace But in a grounde where grace wisedome growes And patience sits with an Immortal crowne where tir aunt heads to hel are beaten downe Pitty must be the princesse of a citty And Anger breedeth nothing but disquiet wilful is good so that the wil be
his passage well When not to stand on circumstance too long He meetes anon with this same monster thing who by illusion of the Sirens song would seeke a worlde in bondage how to bring Turning himselfe into a thousand shapes To feare fond children and to cosen Apes And first he looks like to a fiery light which would consume what so did crosse his waie But soone was donne the force of his despight where vertue came he had no power to staie And then he would become a speaking birde But God once namde he durst not speake a worde And by and by he would become a Beare To feare young children with a foolish noise But when a man a beast can neuer feare He found it prou'de olde children were no boies when by and by he woulde become an Ape Oh beastly thing too neare a humaine shape But when that vertue founde the vile effect Of Apish humors with the Monckish mindes Shee wholy did the vermins iestes reiect And forst him seeke for shapes of other kindes when all his sleightes could doe him little boote For vertue knew the deuil by his foote No though into an Angell faire of light He coulde transforme him selfe for to deceiue Yet coulde he not his foote keepe out of sight But vertue coulde his filthy clawe perceiue So by his foote shee plainely did descrie him Bidding auaunte foule fiende shee did defie him When as the pilgrime lifting vp his eies To heauenly powers from hell for to defende him Sweete Christ once namde awaie the Serpent flies And for awhile vnable to offende him Til once againe the heauens had giuen him leaue To doe his worst sweete vertue to deceiue When in the shape whereof before I spake with his seuen heads the wicked Serpent standes with such a sounde as made the earth to shake As halfe the worlde were subiect to his handes when first his head of pride began to speake And to this pilgrime did this poison breake Thou little wretch quod he of lesser worth In humaine shape I know not what to name whom honors spirit neuer coulde bring forth To seeke the fortune of imperial fame How didst thou fal into this forlorne path wherein the worlde so little pleasure hath Where see the ground of euery secret griefe which mortifies the body with the minde Subiect to euery crosse and for reliefe Pitty the whole that thou must hope to finde Patience a paine set downe life but a death where care and sorrow draw a sickely breath VVhere eies must be embased to the ground Their pleasing humors barred to beholde And bended knees to cappe and courtzy bounde while bared head must bide the bitter colde The minde must stoupe the hande must loose his strength The hart must droupe and life must yeelde at length Is this the reach of Reasons noble wit To see a world and seeke for nothing in it In such a chaire doth charie humor sit To know a worke of worth and not beginne it who could of power conceiue the kingly pleasure would no conceit with such a comfort measure Humility a iolly creeping thought Patience a prety purgatory Sorrow a fit for the phisitian wrought And death a gentill ende of misery Fasting and praier al the spirits pleasure Notes for a King to looke vpon at leasure No stoupe no thought seeke only to subdue Set no conceit in honor with a crowne In begger minde true conquest neuer grew The village is a cotage to the towne The Monarchy doth shew the noble minde He hath no life that cummes of lower kinde VVhat slaue wil serue that easely may commaunde what sence wil stoupe that may be set alofte who wil desire that needes not to demaunde who loues the boordes may haue his bedde made softe Or who regardes the rascall beggers teares That may haue Musicke to contente his eares What poore conceit wil begge for crūmes of bread May haue his table furnisht all with cates Or breake his hart with hammers of his head May passe his humors with his pleasing mates Faire wise rich learned valiant young and olde Power is the hande doth at commandement holde And so he stopt but swelling with such pride As if his braine woulde haue with poison burst To whom the pilgrime presently replied Avaunt foule fiende and Monster most accurst Thou hate of heauen and greatest hagge of hell what wicked tale hast thou presumde to tell Wretched blasphemous spirit of presumption Ougly in shape and horrible in sence Thou cursed substance of the souls consumption The heauens displeasure and the worlds offence That knowst no worth art not worth the knowing Rot in thy roote ere thou haue further growing Thou wicked witch fonde fortunes first deuiser To bring a desperate spirit to defame And by illusion first the soules surpriser That heares thy wordes and wil beleeue the same How durst thou once presume so neere this path where hatefull humor neuer passage hath Thou grounde of griefe heere is the grounde of grace Thou foule infection heere is fairest health Thou crosse of crosses heere is comfortes place Thou pitties want and heere is pitties wealth Thou dire impatience dole and deadly strife Curst be the death that stoppes the waie of life Whose blinded eies are barde all blessed light whose crooked knees are crampt for crafty creeping whose triple crowne in vertues humble sight will breake thy necke and rest in better keeping whose hart subdued by hande of heauenly strength Must liue in paine of neuer ending length Calst thou the rage of wil the rules of wit Is all the world ought els but vanitie who in the chaire of chaunging choise doth sit Knowes nothing of diuine humanity Nor in conceit can comfort truly measure That knows not pride the plage of high displeasure Humility high Angels happy thought while patience is the deuils purgatory Sorrow a fit for faithes phisitians wroughte while high heauens mercy endes worldes misery Fasting and praier happines procuring while true repentance is but hope enduring Then stoupe foule pride whom heauens did full subdue Know that thy crowne is cumming tumbling downe Vertue doth see how by Illusion grew The worldes disgrace to grace thee with a crowne Monarch of mischiefe such is all thy minde Nor hath he life that cummes of such a kinde His seruice freedome that made thee a slaue His seate alofte that makes thee lie full lowe His wante a welth that sees thee nothing haue His boorde a bed that makes thee watch for woe His almes sweete that saues the beggers teares while thou hast naught but cries to fill thine eares A poore conceite that starues for lacke of crums And yet will tell the worlde of delicates who ofte for hunger feedst vpon thy thumbes when death and sorrowe are thy hellish mates Faire wise riche learned valiant olde and young Take heede of pride and of his poisned tongue And with that worde I knowe not how it fell But downe the crowne came tumbling on the grounde when as
on thy mercie let me onlie staie That my poore soule maie in thy comfort proue Lo what it is to liue but in thy loue Some wish for golde and some for golden graces Some wish for wit and some for worldely pleasure Some wish for power and some for stately places And some alone doe wish for worldely treasure But let my will those wishes all displace And wish alone thy fauour and thy grace Some in their chariots some in horses trust But be thou still a strong defence to me Some heere desire but to possesse their lust Let my soules loue be but to liue to thee Some wish but here to purchase worldly fame Let me but ioie to glorify thy name And not alone in sweetest wordes to moue The worldly eares to wonder at the same But in my workes thy praises I maie proue I doe but seeke the honour of thy name That all true soules maie iustly saie with me All that is good directly comes of thee Let me but tuch the garment of thy grace I shall be healed of my sickest sore Let me but looke vpon thy louing face Such health will come I shall be sicke no more Yea if thy mercy mi◅igate my paine If I were dead I shoulde reuiue againe Forget oh lorde the follies of my youth And giue me not the death of my desart But of the treasures of thy heauenly Truth Bestow an almes on my needy hart That in the secrets of thy sacred loue My carefull soule her comfort may approue Let not mine eare one listen to the sounde Of vaine conceits that but deceiue the minde Nor let the worlde so giue my hart a wounde That in my soule mine eie be stroken blinde But let my spirit onely make her choise But in thy loue and mercy to reioice Oh that my waies were all and whole directed Vnto the seruice of thy sacred will And that my faith had in my soule effected The happy comfort of that heauenly skill That in true loue might euer so attende thee As in default might neuer more offende thee That I might leaue this lothsome world of ours And chuse the honor of thy childrens awe And in thy heauen and with thy heauenly powers Learne but obedience to thy blessed lawe And with thy saints and holy Martyrs sing All lawde and glory to my heauenly king Then should my hart finde out my heaunly rest And sorrow then should tuch my soule no more But hart and soule both in thy mercie blest Should daie and night thy holy name dore And make the worlde by some effectes to see It is thy loue hath wrought this life in me And with that worde she sweetly fetch a sigh And then a sobbe and then a bitter teare As who should saie that either death was nigh Or els her hart was stroken with a feare Or els the spirit might be ouercome That for the time her tongue was stroken dumme But let it be all blessed is the traunce when so the soule is ouercome with loue That vertues choice doth finde it is no chaunce when humble faith doth heaunly fauour proue And when the sences from their sleepe arise The spirit findes the life that neuer dies So when it seemde shee waked from her sleepe Or sodaine traunce for so I tearme it right when such high care did so her sences keepe That shee awakt with glory of the light Oh sacred loue and sweetest life quod shee what happy figure hath appearde to me Did I beholde that fairest shining light That made me shake for feare to see thy face And weepe for ioie that in thy blessed sight My sinfull soule might come and sue for grace And did I see thy loue so sweetely vse mee That in thy mercy thou wouldst not refuse me And did thy mercy so thy loue entreate That iustice gaue her sworde to mercies hande And did thy mercy sit in iustice seate And did the iudgement in thy mercie stande Oh blessed loue where mercie doth approue The fruite of loue is mercie mercies loue I must confesse my conscience did cond◅mne me Of such offence as I coulde not denie And of such crime as thou migh◅st well contēne me when by my due I had deseru'd to die But when thy mercy did my sorrowe see How in thy pitty shee did pleade for me Beholde quod shee the true repentant hart which bleedes in teares with sorrowe of her sinne what passions haue perplexed euery part where penitence doth pitties suite beginne where true confession doth submission proue And true contrition cries to me for loue Beholde the faith that hath her fairest holde Vpon the gift of thy especiall grace Thy word of truth that to the world hath told The faithfull soule in heauen shall haue a place And true repentance shall by me obtaine The freed ioyes from euerlasting paine VVhen that vile serpent euery soules accuser That sought to bring my comforts to decay That ougly deuil al the worldes abuser In furies rage me thought did fly awaie And to the life but of thy mercy leaue me who to thy seruice sweetely did receiue me VVhen all thy Saintes and martyrs came vnto me And in their armes thine Angels did embrace me And all were glad what comfort they could doe me And in a seate of paradise so place me That al with ioie surprisde these ioies to see I wake and praie the vision true may bee For this is it sweete Lorde that I would haue The world is short in sounding my desire It is thy mercy that I onelie craue Thy vertues loue that set my hart on fire And in thy loue that onely liuing blisse That world may wish but know not what it is FINIS Errata Pag. 8 lin ◅ on for one p. 11. l. 2. end for sed l. 10. endings for sendings p. 28. l. 19. in gold her grace for her gold in grace lin 20. for worthines read worthles l. 21. lines for li◅es p. 40. lin 18. can offend me for offend me
might he see a Monky with an Ape Climing a tree and cracking of a Nut One sparrow teache an other how to gape But not a tame one taught to keepe the cut And many a lacke daw in his foolish chat while parets prated of they knew not what But when shee saw humilities affection wonne from the world to seeke for heauenly fauour And that the soule by wisdome â—…ound direction In sacred flowers should finde the sweetest sauour Shee raisde him vp and badde him there receiue The true delightes should not the soule deceiue When lifted vp by that faire hande of loue That brought the hart an vnknowen happines And euery seruant sweetly did approue A blessing in their Masters blessednes with silent thoughtes they humbly did attende The words that did their comfort comprehende Poore wretch quod shee thy faithfull patient hart the highest powers in pitty doe regarde where true repentance pleades for no desart But bounties grace where mercy giues rewarde The heauens haue harde thy humble happy praier To helpe thy hope and keepe thee from despaire The labour that thy loue hath tane in hande Thy trauaile minding neuer to retire The happy staie whereon thy hope doth stande where humble praier but pitty doth aspire Haue got thee grace in mercies glorious eies To finde the path that leades to paradise This is the 〈◊〉 that patience onely treades where life doth goe on pilgrimage to loue whose humble hart the holy spirite leades vnto the height of blessed hopes behoue whom graces garde till perils al be past And faith resolu'de doe finde her rest at last Since thou hast scapte the vaunt of Venus vaine And not presumde Diana to approch Since Flora coulde no further fauour gaine Nor Ceres coulde thy carefull thought encroch Since fooles and deuils all are driuen awaie Bide but a night and thou shalt see the daie Since thou hast scapte the way of wretchednes where shameles mindes to shamefull shapes are turned And founde the waie of fairest blessednes where hart enflamde with vertues fire hath burned Keepe on the path and turne on neither side Grace to thy hope will be a happy guide Thinke it not longe to cumme to heauen at last Nor linger time to hinder happy speede Feare not the sunne though skies be ouercast And let a candell stande the night in steede So marke the light that liues in vertues eies And loue shall leade thee straight to paradise Feare not the foes nor forces thou shalt meete For thou shalt meete with monsters many a one But faith resolu'de treds fortune vnder feete where vertue comes will vices all be gone Hell cannot hurt whom heauenly powers defend where grace begins hope makes a happy end Lo neere at hand he that would hurt thee most An ougly Monster full af all corruption By whose illusion many soules haue lost Their liuely hopes by lowdenes interruption A Lier Theife and master of all evill The sier of sinne the fiendâ—… of hell the deuill Seauen are his heades as many are his tailes Ecâ—… head a tongue and every taile a sting And woe to them with whom his tongues prevailes within the compase of his tails to bringe But skorne his wordes or quite him with disgrace and thou shalt kill or make him fly the place His body is the very sinke of sinne Into which hole all hellish filth doth runne A plague of pride presumption did beginne An endles plague that was in pride begunne where every head the body standes in steed with poisoned soules the filthy paunch to feede His swordes are wordes with which he is to fight whose forces can but faithles hartes offende For if hee looke but once at vertues light He faintes for feare and feeles his forces ende But heare him speake and neuer feare his spight when vertue laughes at vanities delight His greatest head and that doth gape most wide Is proude Ambition swallowing worldly wealth which faithles soules infectes with filthy pride Killing the spirit for the bodies health Vpon which head he beares a triple crowne That Vertue sees is neere his tumbling downe In which great head his tongue is all vntruth Lies to bewitch the worlde vnto his will The ease of Age and high conceit of youth are greatest groundes of his vngratious skil To gouerne states is such a stately thinge what slaue is he that would not be a king And thus the villaine would the world perswade To prowde attemptes that may presume to high But earthly ioies wil make him proue a â—…ade when vertue speakes of loues diuinity where humble hart doth to that heauen aspire where is no place for any proude desire The seconde heade is wicked avarice Choking it selfe with trash in steade of treasure whose tongue is treason that can best deuise To hurte the spirite with the bodies pleasure But talke of vertues ioie in Misery And he wil pine to death in penury The thirde foule head is filthy Gluttony Deuouring more then it can well disgest Leading the harte to loathsome villany And of a man doth make an ougly beaste But answere him with fasting and with praier The very wordes will kill him with their aier The fourth bad head is beastly slothfulnes Sleeping and snorting like a filthy swine Loosing the time in loathsome Idlenes Dreaming of that which neuer was diuine But answere him with vertues carefull watching He faintes and falls to finde his ouermatching The fifte vile heade is filthy lechery which leades the hart to hateful wickednes His tongue a forge of fancies treachery To bring the soule to all vnhappines But answere him with vertues chaste desire And he will bite his very taile for ire The sixte is enuy full of malice fraught Feeding on Snakes that faine would vertue stinge which where they finde their forces come to nought Into his mouth they backe their poison bring But say how patience leades to paradise He frets and fumes and in impatience dies The seuenth is murther most accursed head whose tongue is blasphemy all dide in blood which with the harts of harmeles creatures feade Lappes in the broath of an Infernall foode But saie how vertue doth for vengeance crie And dead he falles or els awaie doth flie Now beare these heauenly lessons all by harte And take these bookes to benefite thy minde In each of which is hidde a secret arte whose proper vse maie profite in his kinde But chiefly doe this holly booke peruse where speciall comfortes maie thy spirit chuse When hauing giuen into his humble hande Seuen sundry bookes whereonto vse his wit And last the staie whereon the state did stande Of happy life where heauenly loue doth sit The holy booke of vertues blessed vaine Home shee returnes vnto her heauen againe Which when the pilgrime humbly did beholde Carying in minde the comforts of his hart which to his faith her fauour did vnfolde To keepe the soule from an Infernall smart Against the fury of this fiende of hell Onwardes he goes God speede