to finde some swéete redresse And sure I finde but what for sweete delight the bitter fruites of broyle and dire despight Then who seekes so were better not to seeke or if he séeke were better lose then finde For he that findes vnto his most misléeke will where he findes his burthen leaue behinde And stande content with laboure spent in vaine rather then beare it to his further paine Yet he that seekes to finde out sweete delight and seeking séekes the surest way he may T is tenne to one but he shal méete despight which if he finde he néedes must beare away Or els despight wil driue him too and fro from all delight into a world of woe So that which way so ere he goe to worke to finde the way that leades vnto delight Such enuious hagges shal finde in secreate lurke as stil will seeke to driue him on despight Yet what of this in spite of all despight my minde shal séeke to finde out my delight The louer argueth betweene delight and despight WHen ioyes doe fade and all delight decayes and pinching paine possesseth pleasures place And wretched woe in wearie wofull wayes drawes forth the life in griefe and great disgrace Who then can choose but in his harte to crie adue delight I must in sorrow die Adue deligh oh what a dolefull song why solemne songes serue best for silly soules Then why shrinke I who dying liue too long and daylie heare the howerly carefull knowles The bell of bale ringes out both day and night to bid me die and bid adue delight Yet mindes wil mourne when mirth is changd to â—â—ne and hearts wil yearne to bid delight adue The sowrest life seemes sweete til latest grone many repente and yet repentance rue The fancie likes that breedes the harts despight which makes me singe adue to all delight And yet God knowes it is a sighing song and such a song as greeues me sore to sing But since my Lute is lost I playd on long and sorrow is my onely Musickes string Which runnes betweene the frets of foule despight I am content to sing adue delight Oh miseri amanti WHat greater woe can be then want of wish and what such ioy as to attaine the same A soure sauce doth marre the daintiest dish no greater griefe then that which growes in game What spight to that which pleasaunte sporte procures what sorrow such as man in mirth indures This wante of wishe which worketh deadly woe and being gainde doth breede as great a ioy This soure sauce that marreth sweete meate so this griefe in game this pleasure with annoy This spitefull sporte and mourneful 〈◊〉 to proue is but to leade a luckles life in loue For see the ioyes are woes of louers wish whose gaine yealds losse whose want bréedes wailful woe Whose sauce is sorrow to his daintiest dish whose griefe in game is doubt in yea or 〈◊〉 Whose spight in sporte is ioy amisse conceiud whose mirth in mone is death the minde deceiud Oh 〈◊〉 wish which each way worketh woe oh luckles loue which yeldes such sower swéete oh froward fates that first ordained so that mone with mirth should match so farre vnméete Oh wretch aid me that thus am forc'd to proue the gréeuous ioyes by luckles lottes of loue A Farewell to Fancie FAncy farewell my doating dayes are done my yeares are young but wit is waxen old Reason sayth now my retchlesse rafe is runne and wisdome hath my wanton will controld And tels me plaine that pleasures frutes are paine and worldly thinges are all and some but vaine Kingdomes bréede cares and treasure is but trashe beauty bides not and fauour fades away Frendship bréedes foes loue leaueth in the lash the fayrest lookes when liking doth decay Byting bréedes lust lust losse losse little ease small ease great griefe great griefe no small disease Disease breedes dole dole breedeth doleful care care doth consume consumption day by day Doth feede on flesh till bones be left so bare that loathed life must haue his dying day And worldly death breedes life in heauen on hie to which good life God graunt that I may die The Louer being kaught craueth comforte SWeete soule or Saint I know not which to say whose heauenlie power or heauenly hart at least With onely sight my senses doth dismay as minde amasde can take no hower of rest To thée alas vnknowne this suite I moue comforte thy slaue whom thou hast caught in loue What haue I sayd alas by only sight and haue thy lookes then linckt my hart in loue Yea in thy lookes I sée such swéete delight as to desire diuinest mindes may moue Therefore thus cought with onely looke I say a looke I loue and more too as I may But since that may rests only in thy will by lookes to shew my graunted leaue to liue Let me enioy such lookes of liking still that I may vowe my minde shal neuer moue But looke and like and loue that only looke on which to looke such sweete delight I tooke And thus I liue in hope to see the looke that by delight may bid me seeke to serue Nor doe I care what toile I vndertooke by thy commaunde thy liking to deserue So humbly thus this earnest suite I moue doe bid me serue where I am bound to loue The Louer craueth either speedie release or els speedie death DRiuen by desire to séeke out sweete delight I fast am caught in dungeon of distresse Where cloase clapt vp I lie in such despight as reason shewes no way to séeke redresse But captiue like to sit alone and crie adue delight I must in sorrow die Too true I finde who followes on his eye is sildome sure the high way right to hitte For many toyes doe leade the minde awrie except that wil be guyded on by witte For mistes doe fall to dimme the clearest eyne so fell a fogge before these eyes of mine I sawe a dame which did mine eye delight but secreat hurte of loue I could not sée For why her state was set on such a hight as oh I finde no clyming vp for me So to delight in loue I sought the way in whose despight I finde mine owne decay Yet farewel sweete the cause of all my care I blame not thée mine eye did worke my woe But since that loue lendes such vnhappy share the kindest harte to kill with sorrow so I am content in this distresse to lie til loue release or death wil let me die A Louer voweth constancie to his Ladie IN little chestes the greatest iewels lie and smallest heads are thought of greatest witte Clearest the sight that can by vew of eye discerne the marke that hardest is to hitte And happy he that beares his hande so right as hauing seene is sure to hit the whight Your chest I finde the carefull casket is where now doth rest the iemme of chiefe account Your sight of sence hath found by sure aduice the heauenly wight vpon Dianas mount
deere quoth he the price amasde the elfe For two pence halfepeny he agreede at last and hangs him selfe Le home THis geare beares pricke and price my girle of all that ere I sée La feme The pricke for me sir I crie first the price I leaue for thée Corpus opes animam formam vim lumina scortum Debilitat perdit necat aufert eripit orbat The bodie wealth the minde fourme face and sight a whore Doth weaken leese kill race and steale and eke depriueth sore A Gentlewomans poesie YOung lust of loue in hoarie lockes on Ladyes loynes lay lasye knockes Olde beldames then doe you receaue the cripple knights young Ladyes leaue Aungels MIne aungels stil they be so fledge they flie or els in shippe they floate with puffed sayles Or with their legges they leape and runne awrie or driuen away by Dragons with long tayles Legges winges and shippes the deuill in dragons shins To beare away mine aungels neuer linnes A Riddle SCâ—lere vehor materna carne vescor quaero patrem meumâ— Matris meae virum vxoris meae filium Foule is my faulte that feede my fill and gorge on mothers bowels still With busie care I seeke my Sire my mothers husbande I require And such a one that man must be as is the sonne of wife to me Money still restlesse GOod money be demourant with me stil and then thou shalt be pendaunte in my purse But if thou wilt be volant at thy will or coorraunte els thy harbore will be worse Voussera still incloased in my chest whereas thou runst abroad sance any rest A fantasticall passion MY vayne is done to write in prose or verse For why I see my wittes beginne to faile Full faine I would a woefull tale reherse but sorrow so my sences doth assaile That I am forcde to say and ende in briefe I cannot wright I am so full of griefe A birde to a birder A Fowler snarlde a little birde with lymed bushe of late To whome for life libertie the prettie fowle doth prate She begges her raunsome at a price and promiseth for pay Three iewels riche The birder then so biddes her flie away Escaped thus now list quoth she Hereafter holde thine owne Trust not to much nor take no care for that which heÌ„ce is floeâ— Henceforth if thou applie thy selfe to rule thee by these three No little fowle as I shal make so greate a foole of thee The abuse of the worlde THe mournefull minde the ouerwhelmed brayne the wittes bewitchd that wearyed are with woes The pensiue harte that pines away in payne the troubled thoughts whome thousande cares enclose Doth stil I see consume my carkase so as nought but death can ridde me of this woe Long haue I hoapde too longe I finde in vaine and all in vaine it is I finde too late That pittie woulde procure some ease of payne but pride is full pufte vp with deadly hate Disdaine is growne so great with beauties grace as humble suites are all thrust out of place Humilitie is thought a sillie slaue deserte is deemde a peeuishe painfull drudge Truth thought deceate and flatterie no knaue crafte credite gaines good dealing may goe trudge This all too late to my despight I finde which makes me thus to waile and mourne in minde The Author troubled with hope and despaire TWo thinges there are that trouble much my minde the one is hope the other is despaire In hope my harte doth heauenly comforte finde and peeuish dread my pleasures doth impaire Hope to good happe doth geue me vp amayne Despaire as fast doth flinge me downe againe I hope the best and yet doe dread the worst which wretched dread sayes hope is all in vaine And hope biddes me account that dread accurst that lets my helpe my heauenly wish to game And hope assures that reason doth require although despaire deny me my desire Therefore I hope although withall I feare because I hope my hope wil banish dread Which makes despaire both day and night to beare my tossed braines within my troubled head This passion straunge twixt hope and feare I finde is that which longe hath much perplext my minde The Author troubled with loue and hate TWo things there are that much torment my mind the one is loue the other deadly hate The force of loue doth make affection blind and blinde desire doth set my wittes at bate They beate my braynes to make what meanes they may I finde in fine to worke mine owne decay I like not loue againe I loue not hate yet loue or hate I needes must take the one The choice is harde which were the better state and happy he could let them both alone For he that knew them both as well as I woulde lothe his life and gladly wish to die Loue ofte breedes hate whome luckles lots ensue and foule despight doth sore consume the harte Which seekes reuenge that honest mindes doe rue when conscience pricks doth cause repentant smarte This for my selfe as once before I sayde hath made my minde and senses so dismayde And yet alas I cannot choose but loue yet hate my selfe to see my fonde desire But cannot get my fancy once remoue that in my harte hath kindled hatefull fire But must of force my wretched minde content to liue in griefe vntill my dayes be spent Another THe longer life the more offence the more offence the greater payne The greater payne the lesse defence the lesse defence the losse of gayne The losse of gayne long life doth trie wherefore come death and let me die The shorter lyfe lesse count I finde the lesse accounte the sooner made The counte soone made the merryer minde the merrier minde doth thought euade Shorte life wel spent the same doth trie wherefore come death and let me die Come gentle death the ebbe of care the ebbe of care the floud of life The floud of life the ioyfull fare the ioyfull fare the ende of strife The ende of strife for that wish I wherefore come death and let me die Another MIstrust misdeemes amisse whereby displeasure growes And time delayde findes friends afrayde their faith for to disclose Suspecte that breedeth thought and thoughts to sighes conuarte And sighes haue sought a flood of teares where sobbes doe soake the harte This harte that meanes no harme must féede on sorrowes all Vntil such time in please the iudge the truth in question call Though cause of great mistrust before the iudge appeare My truth and mercy of the iudge I trust shal set me cleare Reporte thus runnes at large my truth for to detecte Yet truth in time shal trie it selfe and driue away suspecte Beleue not euery speech nor speake not all you heare For truth and mercy of the iudge I trust shal set me cleare Another WHat watch what woe what want what wrack is due to those that toile the seas Life led with losse of paynes no lacke in stormes to winne much restles ease A bedlesse boarde at
despaire doth shew no gaine Good hap says hope despaire cries contrarie hope bids me liue despaire would haue me die Thus twixt those two at point of death I liue in hope of good yet fearing froward chaunce In you it lyes a happy hap to geue to bring me out of this despairing traunce Oh help me then that thus on knees doe crie Assure my hope or in despaire I die The Louer craueth rewarde for his long and faythfull seruice OH Loue to whome I long haue bene a slaue consider wel how truely I haue serud And blame not him who is compeld to craue the due reward that he hath wel deserud Let trustie troth be euer yet regarded that faithful seruants may be wel rewarded Thou knowest how long that I haue liued a thrall thou knowest againe my true and faithful minde And thou canst tel how landes limme life and all by faith full fast I once did firmely finde To serue a Saint all this thou loue doest know and how my faith I neuer did forgoe And since thou knowest I neuer reapt reward nor euer sought til now reward to craue Sweete loue let now my humble suite be heard and pittie take vpon thy silly slaue And cause the Saint whom I so long haue serud to lend me liking as I haue deserud Oh amour WHat thing is loue a God as Poets wright why Poets faine then how can that be true What is it then some worldly sweete delight oh then their loue why should so many rue It is a griefe then why are men so vaine to ioy in that which doth procure their paine But such a pain as pleasure bringes withal and such a griefe as yealds a heauenly ioy Doth make the heart to think the hurt but smal when fancie rids the minde of selfe annoy And such is sure the panges that louers proue that wretched wights can ioy so much in loue But peace I sée loue is a God in deede who diuers wayes doth worke in minde of man Whose mighty power mans reason doth exceede by working woe or comfort now and than But is it so is loue a power diuine then God of Gods spéede well this loue of mine Nought dare I do therfore oh God of loue I thée beséeche to worke for thy behooue Of a hauty minde THe conquest rare doth greatest glory gaine the strongest fortes by stoutest wightes are won The hardest thinges atchiude with greatest payne do bréede most ease when so the worke is done Well labors he how so his time be spent that for his paines doth reape his hartes content God knowes my hart and what I do desire but what I seeke doth few or no man know The nobler harte the higher doth aspier and for my selfe I cannot stoupe to lowe But if I séeke to clyme a steppe to hye God saue the childe for if I fall I dye In high attemptes the boldest bloudes of all do best preuaile when perill once is past Then lyue or dye or stand or slyde or fall clyme sure I will God set my footing fast And helpe me so to height of my desire that I may wishe saue heauen to clyme no hyer After many misfortunes he craueth death as the ender of all calamities I Longe in iest haue wishd and calde for death when foolishe toyes haue gone agaynst my mynde But dying now at latest gaspe of breath I call to God that I may fauoure find That sinne bréede not my soules eternall paine that dyinge here I may not dye agayne For now I sée the woes of wretched will and now I finde the filthie shame of sinne And now by grace I knowe the good from ill I lothe the state that I haue liued in I see the lyfe of man is but a floure which springes growes fades and dyeth in an houre What are we all but euen a clod of claye first made of earth whence back agayne we must A life vnsure which lasteth not a daye A death most sure to which each one may trust And yet that death yeldes lyfe by heauenly grace which grace God graunt ech one in wretched case And for my selfe God me my sinnes forgiue and God forgeue each one that is amisse Oure sinnes forgeue God graunt oure soules may lyue From wretched worlde with him in heauenly blisse And thus I end my solemne dyinge songe Lord saue my soule I dyinge lyue too longe He proueth vertue to be better then worldly riches THe golde that first within the ground doth growe doth come to stand on top of pillers hye The pretious Pearle that likewise lyes full low the Prince accountes a iewell for his eye What iemme so rare that euer yet was founde but that at first did growe out of the grounde Then when you see your pallace trimly deckt straight cal to minde from whence that decking came And to the ground haue presently respect who by Gods help did first bring forth the same And thinke the iemme that makes the brauest show ful rough at first within the ground did grow The man whose minde is ful and wholy bent to vertues throne to treade the redy way And meetes mishap ere halfe his iorney spent to lothsome vice to leade him out astray Where is the fault but in a froward wil who goes without the guide of wisdomes skill But what if wit be rulde by sage aduise and then doe chaunce to meete with naked neede It bootes alas but litle to be wise if wealth do want to help to doe the déede Yet wealthy wise who walkes to vertues schoole when he comes there shal see himselfe a foole How should the minde then séeke out vertues throne or els what minde is best to seeke the same The seate is straunge and standeth all alone and vertue she is thought a heauenly dame Which makes me thinke it is some heauenly place which heauenly minde must game by heauenly grace Which heauenly guide God graunt my willing minde with wisdomes skil to seeke out vertues schoole That though wealth want yet wit may wisely finde how long too long that I haue liued a foole And I may see from vertues heauenly way what wanton toyes haue led my minde astray The louer being ouercome is compelled of necessitie â—o sing of sorrow FAine would I write some pretie pleasaunt toy to put away fond fancies out of mind But secret spite so chokes me with annoy as wearied wits can litle pleasure find So that I sée if ought at all I write my song must be of sorrow and despite And sorrowes song who would desire to sing that dolefull dumpe doth lend but small delite And yet the mind which wretched woes do wring can sing no song but smackes of some despite For if of myrth it doth the more disease and solemne songs do litle paine appease Then sadde and swéete since that no song I see which may delite of cheare the heauy hart I can but â—igh let others sing for me no musicke mirth can ease my secret smart
Therefore I déeme as I at first begon I would be mery but my myrth is done The louer by froward happe inforced to forsake loue enforceth him selfe by trauell to seeke out the forte of fame THe world is chaungd my wits are woond about fancie is forced to leaue her fond desire From vaine delites dame Vertue driues me out and wisedom will what reason doth require My wanton wits are warnd by sacred I kill to flie the follies of 〈◊〉 will I now must leaue to write of louers toyes in Cupids Court I must no longer keepe Nor sporte my selfe in wanton pleasures layes nor longer lye in fancies lappe a sléepe I now must wake and set my selfe to schoole to sée how longe that I haue lyude a foole And I must nowe some tyme in trauell spend to seeke in tyme the gallant forte of fame That when alas my lothed lyfe doth end my workes may leaue remembraunce of my name And I may showe though longe I went astraye I founde at last dame vertues heauenly waye The louer forsaken craueth speedie death A Wretched case it is to sitte and cry where none are neare to helpe the harmed harte A greater gréefe where present aide is nye and yet by spyghte is onely kept a parte But yet most gréefe when helpe is hard at call and yet alas can do no good at all In such a case loe cursed wretche I stand my heauie harte full sore for comforte cryes Yet none can get yet some is hard at hande which in despighte accursed hap denyes And some I haue which woulde somwhat content but doth in deede my sorrowes more augment The secreat cause alas for shame I hide since folly first was worker of my woe By want of witte which wisdome hath discride and I do now by secreate sorrowe showe Therefore consumde come kill me death I crye in deede resolud and well content to dye A Comparison betwene thraldome and libertie THe little birde that close in kage is pente which ladies loue to sitte and whistle by Some say doth singe but layes of deepe lament and cheareles chirpes for losse of libertie Esteeming more her mates abrode in fielde then courtly toyes that chiefest pleasure yelde But contrarie oh happy birde thinke I so luckely to light in fowlers snare As to be brought to stand in pallas hye and eke in courte to féede on princely fare And shortly there in fauor so to stande as to be fed at fairest ladies hand Would God I were a birde in prison pent so I might still beholde my heauenly Quene If that I sing one note of deepe lament that day when I my Princes grace haue séene Wring of my necke or fling me out of dore as worthie then to kepe in court no more A warning to all estates The gallant mind when store of coyne is spent by rare exploytes must seeke to purchase praise Though honor fall to some by due descent good happe doth hit a thousand sundrie wayes Yet oftentimes in seeking high renowne the hautie hart hard Fortune flingeth downe The souldiour thinkes by sword to winne his wish when oft is séene the sword doth cut him short The sea man seekes in déepest floods to fish when drowning proues a cold vnpleasant sport The marchaunt meanes to winne the world by wares when oft his cost doth yéeld him nought but cares Now some againe build castels in the ayre which many times fall tumbling on their neckes And some will seeme to sit in stately chaire which are sometime set downe with deadly checkes In sâ—â—e I find the brauest mind oâ— all is highest set but haâ—d before a fall The miserie of loue BEwrapt in woe 〈…〉 with wretched will orecome with â—ares deepe drenched in distresse Pining in paine aliue but dying still crying for helpe but finding no redresse A life I lead the Lord of heauen doth know much worse then death to mourne in sorrow so But what auailes when fates and fortune froune when moone and starres are now become my foes When from delite despite doth keepe me downe and cares my corpes do round about inclose Abide I must as destinies ordaine thus like a wretch to 〈◊〉 away in paine Or loathed life that wretched thus I lead tenne times 〈◊〉 such cursed happe to know Or cruell 〈◊〉 coâ—e cut a two the thread that draweth forth my dayes in sorrow so Oh sorrow 〈◊〉 thy soking sighes dospill me all dole adew come you good death and kill me Or else good God who from aboue dost see the secret cause of all my cutting care And knowes and hast what thing will comfort me vouchsafe some drop of mercie me to spare That so my hart that long hath bid in griefe may praise thy name for tending my releefe In wanton youth my fancy thought a while there was no state nor life so sweete as loue But now I find how well did wit beguile and I the paine of such a pleasure proue I needes must say by true experience taught I find in deede the state of loue starke naught For first the wise loue makes become a foole the souldiour stout the rich not worth a grote The learned clarke it sets againe to schoole to learne an art wherewith to cut his throate It makes the man most free become a slaue and many times an honest man a knaue The Lord of loue Cupid him selfe is blind yet shootes by ame and oft vnhappely hits He hurts the hart and quite doth dimme the mind and with vile wayes doth ouerwhealme the wits What shall I say who knew so much as I would deeme of loue a wofull misery A meane is best WHen I sometime with griefe enough beheld the gallant troupe of brauenes in their kind Some swime in silke some siluer pearle and gold and I poore soule come meanely clad behind Good Lord I thinke what kind of world is this when some so thriue some fare so farre amisse But when againe I see some lusty lad whom I my selfe haue knowne in meane estate And in respect but silly simple swads and none to kepe so high and stately gate Well yet thinke I this wil not euer last the tides doe flow but ebbe againe as fast The prouerbe says that pride wil haue a fall who hath no lands nor yet no rents I sée When money melts and fethers gin to fall wil be ful glad to come and folow me Loe this is all the sodaine ioy I haue when richly clad I sée a rascall knaue An other FRom leathed bed my lustles limmes I lifte with heauy hart with sorow not with sléepe But sigh and sobbe I sée no other shift such careful thoughts my mind in thraldome kéepes No Musickes mirth nor any sweete delight may once reuiue my ouer dulled spright Yet can I sing and how but as the swan a doleful dumpe when death is hard at hand And so perhaps poore wretch I thinke I can sing such a note as none shal vnderstand Which song perhaps shall please but
And you by hap haue surely hit the marke that how to finde may maze a cunning Clarke But who could keepe the key of such a chest or had a head might ioyne with such a witte Or could discerne where his desire doth rest as harte doth wish with happy hande to hit His happe were such as I can neuer craue but wish of God my haples harte might haue So pretty soule a solemne vowe I sweare I would not seeke for iemmes of greater ioy Nor should mine eye be trouling here and there to make a marke of any tysing toy But where I once my leauel lay of loue my hande shal holde and harte shal neuer moue The Louer forsaken and almost dismaide yet through hope taketh comforte FLy fancie flie and let me loue no more what meanes my wil or are my wits bestraught Die swéete desire molest me not so sore but seeke to saue that thou in vayne hast sought For sorrowe shewes the woe of wretched will and force affirmes but frowarde fortune still Where least I like my loue hath lent me losse where most I loue my liking findeth lack What bootes my barke in waues of woe to tosse when sorrowes sandes doe threaten sore shipwrack Such stormes of strife so rife in euery coast as but great happe shew life and laboure lost Yet cowarde wretch wilt thou goe back agayne and keepe thy couch and leaue to seeke delight Make sure accounte no pleasure without payne the sweetest ioyes are gainde through sore despight Then get thee forth in hope goe hoyse vp sayle the winde may tourne and worke for thine auayle Let hardie hope daunte feareful fonde despaire prepare thy selfe to leade a souldiars life Through thicke and thinne by weather foule or faire passe through the pikes and dread no deadly strife And though long first yet when the worst is past the best wil yealde some wished ioyes at last Another I Shrinke to speake since yet I haue no leaue and yet my harte so heaues my tongue to speake As that in deede I plainly doe perceaue with force of fame my very hart stringes breake Which force must be with fauoure ouerprest or els my hart wil neuer sitte at rest Forgeue me wretch if that my wordes offende fancie hath forcde my sillie minde to sue Some lyking let good nature to me sende my minde hath sworne our Ladie seruice due Then if thou lou'st our Ladie or her name regarde my suite graunt fauoure to the same Which fauoure loe I onely craue is this to graunt me leaue to say but what I could Say but my wordes thou wilt not like amisse and thou shalt heare my meaning what I would But til that time as I haue sayd before I must be dumbe and die in dole therefore The louer in sorrow craueth death HOw might I doe to weepe and wayle my fil that dolefull dumpes might soone dispatch my dayes Since sorrowe seekes my carkas so to kill oh doleful doome that so my death delayes I see selfewil hath wrought me such distresse as reason shewes no hope to finde redresse Yet die I must I feele deathes deadly stroake my carkase eke is nie consumde with care Why liue I then since that my hart is broke but liuing thus like one halfe dead I fare Which makes me thus at pointe of death to crie strike home thy darte good death and let me die Patience prolonges the patient in paine comforte relieues but rids not sorrow quight Hope lingers forth a loathed life in vaine fortune is false and frendes no wretched wight The fates doe groane dole is my destinie why liue I then good death come let me die Harde to finde a faithful frende HE seekes vnsure that seekes to finde a friend for faith is fled and frendes are secrete foes A shew of trothe tryes treason in the ende and many pluck a canker for a rose This wretched world is ful of wicked wiles when simple geese the subtile foxe beguiles For stinging snakes lie hid in smoothest grasse and softest streame doth shew the deepest floud No closer craft then in the glosing glasse which flatters much and shewes no perfect good I finde in deede no greater subtiltie then couered is with smoothe simplicitie Then deeme I best eche where to doubt the worst to make account of eche thing by desarte Or ere I choose to make true tryall first by tryall then for to esteeme in harte Thus thinke I best such trusty frends to finde as may content ech faithful meaning minde He craueth content being ouerworne with Loue. OH Loue leaue of to vexe thy silly slaue to bide the broyle some fresher souldyer seeke Thus worne with woes some comforte let me ahue that so thou mayst my seruice better leeke For if that care doe quite my carkasse kill how should I liue to doe thee seruice still Beholde my face my flesh is falne away see how mine eyes sinke hollow in my head My dumpes declares how my delights decay deeme if I seeme more like aliue or dead Let lyking loue some comforte me procure least loathed life no longer doe endure Oh heare me Loue and lende me helpe in hast the time is come that I must liue or die Stay not too long least all too late at last in vayne alas thou lende me remedie I humblie craue my humble suite regarde graunt my desire may haue his due rewarde De contemptu mundi IN depe despite of this vile world I write what is it but a vale of miserie A caue of care a dongeon of despite a place of payne a penne of penurie A sea of sorrowes and a goulph of griefe where wretched hartes doe die without reliefe The wise man wrytes it is a poysoned baight which doth with toyes the godly minde infecte A wanton theese which cloasly lyes in waight to robbe the minde of euery good effecte It is a grounde where onely griefes doe groe and to conclude a wildernes of woe Now why my selfe so ill thereof should deeme some men may muse that see my youthfull yeares Oh softe a while though young of yeares I séeme my youth hath past through many aged bryers But now that I am yet beyonde the bushes I doe not care for all the worlde two rushes Saue that my Prince I honour I protest my Parentes eke and so I loue my friend Set these aside and as for all the rest of loue and liking I must make an ende I hate the worlde and all the toyes therein and longe to sée my ioyes in heauen beginne Maledisant Beuchampe THe tender budde that brauely ginnes to blow while summer showers yeeldes comforte to the roote If that vnwares there fall a sodaine snow no sunné can shine that wel may doe it boote Except it holde but for a day and so It may haue leaue to make a liuely show My selfe the slower that flourisht all too fast while fauour flonge faire weather in my face But now must die my pleasures ouerpast to see disdaine so
〈◊〉 farewell vnto you both twixt hope and feare farewell all foolish strife Follie farewell which I haue fancyed so and farewell fancie that first wroughtst my woe Adue desire for death is harde at hande and yet againe I say adue to death Though loathed life doe in deathes daunger stande yet faith assures when bodie loseth breath The soule in heauen shall liue and fare right wel which makes me crie come death and life farewel Both frendes and foes vnto you all farewell farewell my frendes for frendshippe I haue found Farewell my foes that truth in time may tell when that â—y bones be buryed in the ground That with the worlde I die in charitie and so adue the bell hath done I die And yet once more to death agayne adue for dying thus me thinkes I liue againe My certayne hope showes ioyes that do ensue and hart findes ease of former pinching payne Which makes me thus by certayne prouse to tell faithe feares no death I dying liue farewell Counsaile geuen to a frend WHen gallant youthe hath gone a while at will and folowed that which fancie doth affecte And sées in tyme by proufe of sacred skill What wisdome would that reason should respect He then returnes from former vanytie and treades the pathe to true felicitie When witte doth waye the wanton toyes of will and will doth yéelde to folow wittes aduice And willing witte doth learne by wisdomes skil of perfecte good to knowe the passing price Then worldly toyes are all had in despight and Heauenly ioyes are all the hartes delight When fancie leaues to follow fonde desire and wisdome doth dame fortunes force defie And nature doth but reasones will require and conscience will conceale no trecherie Then if my mynde do not mistake his markes the skye will fall and we shall want no larkes The secrete sute of a louer NOt what I woulde yet would I what I wright not what I meane yet meane I what I saye Not what I mought yet would I what I might not what I can yet will I what I may My spéeche is darke but you perceyue much light then marke my wordes and gesse my meaning right For this you know my tonge so fast is tyde as for my lyfe I cannot yet speake playne Yet do I seeke to haue my mynde descride therby to speake some libertie to gayne For if my tonge might tell my tale in kynde my harte would hope to haue some ease of mynde But oh harde happe my hope his helpe denyes and hope halfe past dispaire doth drowne my mynde Yet reason showes that thou in deede art wise and ruth reportes that I shall fauour find Which makes me thus in midst of my distresse in secrete sorte to sue for some redresse Of sweet contentes WHat aâ—le I wretch or whereto was I borne what meanes my mynd my fancie so to set The greatest iemmes I seme to haue in scorne and daylie séeke the thinge I cannot get The reason is I seeke a thinge to craue which will would wishe but hope can neuer haue What is it welth no many rich I see as many seeke but few or none can haue Bewtie oh no faire ladies many be and t is I saye no common thinge I craue What is it loue tushe loue is but a toye yet faithfull loue is sure a heauenly ioy And therefore Loue I cannot choose but léeke but lyking lookes and lacke breedes discontent And they shal finde that doe such sorrowe seeke that lothed lacke doth luckles loue lamente What is it then whereof I am so faine oh t is contente I seeke but cannot gaine Oh sweete contente what one doth thée enioy who liues contente alas I least of all Content doth breede delight without annoy contente mislykes no fortune that can fall Contente is that which few or none can finde yet must I seeke to set at rest my minde One that had made his full choise MY foolish dayes and wanton lustes be past in vayne you seeke 〈◊〉 me againe Let be your toyes my thoughts are fixed fast Citheria should her selfe but lose her paine Remember not to me wonted delight each sweete so past is now but bitter gall Darcknes I 〈◊〉 that earst I counted light my reason is redéemde from fancies thrall Applie your selues to set some other snare perhaps ye may speede better if ye doe Such woodcockes many in the worlde there are that will be caught I am no pray for you One hath me fast already hers am I Ne will I be anothers till I die A Countrey Carrolle translated out of Belaye A Crowne for Ceres wil I make of euerie kinde of corne With garlandes made of faiâ—e 〈◊〉 boughes I Bacchus will adorne Two pottes of milke to Pales laste I purpose to present That they may heare my humble suite and to my will aâ—ente That Ceres may enforce the ground a plenteous croppe to yeald That Bacchus may the clustred grapes well prosper in the field That Pales so her mantle spread vpon the pleasaunt soyle That grasse and holesome hâ—rbes may grow to quite my painfull toyle The same in another sorte WIth fragrante flowers with eares of corne with leaues that largely grow On euery vine lets garlands make our thankefull mindes to show To Pales Ceres sacred dames and Bacchus last of all Who all our meddowes fields and grounds when we for grace did call With grasse with graine and grapes so filde as they did déeme it best We fearde no heate no hayle no colde for they our labour blest From all that might the grasse the eare or tender braunche offende The cattle birdes or greedie goate that from the hilles descend In summer season in the springe or Authume did not spoile The grasse the eare the sprouting budde but fedde on others soile Let mowiers then make merry now let Reapers all reioyce Let vintners vaunte of their good happe and all exalte their voice To praise the meddowes fieldes and ground that gaue so greate increase And laude their name that wrought this worke els will their goodnes cease Barnes garners sellers so are heapte with hay with corne and wine That neuer earst the like was seeâ—e with any mortall eyine An Epigram out of the same Author THough false Aeneas now be dead Dido laid in graue yet others lefte they in their stead that like coÌ„ditioÌ„s haue Who with the show of marriage rites which is a holy thing do hide their fleshly fonde delights that follie forth doth bring Verses translated out of the foresaide Poet. WIth loue with grace and perfect worthines the powers diuine were compassed rounde about The skie was clad and cloathd in comely sorte with burning rayes of happye heauenly hew All thinges were full of beutie and of blisse the sea was calme the winde was meeke and milde VVhen here below the Paragon was borne whose faire white skinne exceedes the Lillie farre Whose haire like golde doth glister in the sunne whose lippes doe staine the perfecte crimson die
From Phebus beames her shining eyes tooke shape within her brest the heauens themselues haue sowen And through the Gods her name immortal bides Another THe happy braunch to Pallas consecrate the braunche of peace doth beare the name of her Who reaues my sence and in her beutie shrowdes such crueltie as most to Mars belongs Leaue then thou wilfull Dame leaue of I say this louely name or shew thy selfe the like That as thou doest in aâ—l immortal seeme thy name may séeme ordainde by destinie What from the heauens hath been bestowed on thee is nothing straunge nor wonderfull to me Since thou in minde and harte arte Soueraigne and that thine eyes from those that gaze on thée Their bodie harte minde sense and soule doth steale Another THe selfe same night wherein the powers diuine From highest heauens behelde the earth below Loue bente his how to pearce my painful brest And made me subiecte to his Dietie The sacred place from such great crueltie Nor yet the time it selfe could me redeeme This stroake to harte did from her eyes descende Whilest I too much her glorious face behelde I thought at first that Loue had leueled At both alike and that one onely bonde Had equally together ioyned vs both But Loue as blinde and ill aduisde therein Hath let her goe that was the greatest pray Detayning me that 〈◊〉 of least accounte Another AS none may well with fixed eye beholde The glistering beames of Phebus golden rayes So to suruey thy 〈◊〉 passing 〈◊〉 Woulde bleare the eyes and dimmâ— the clearest sight And he that shall with fixed eye 〈◊〉 Thy glorious face so shining as it â—oth Shall finde such â—lâ—arenes will increase his payne And take front him the vse of séeing quite How can my tongue or 〈◊〉 be able then To painte thy praise or yealde thy due desarte That haue no power thy beautie to beholde Which if mine eyes were able to attaine I would pâ—esume to passe the noble birde That vnto Ioue is iustly consecrate My loue shall last THe Soldyars wish drawes on with warres delight the Pilgrimes sporte lyes in his present payne Shippes 〈◊〉 the porte and seekes for seas in sight and I to smile in loue account it gayâ—e Whom while I serue wish sporte and seas I finde with gallante warre with sporte sea roome and winde Sith now this happe is had I ioy to singe what kinde of sea what mates what ship was there How happie chaunce by lotte rulde euery thing the maine saile truth each waue a frendly teare The master Loue him selfe sweete sighes the winde ioyes roade with Oares the ship a merry minde Fast hope at helme did winde the boate aboute and fixed faith stoode vp for middle maste The cable hope which seruant twinde throughout helde gladsome glee with picked anchore faste Beautie discride the rockes till I was past and now beloude I sweare my loue shall laste My loue is paste THe soldior worne with warres delightes in peace the Pilgrime in his ease when toyles are past The ship to gaine the porte when stormes doe cease and I to smile now voide of loue at last Whome while I serude peace rest and loue I lost with greeuesome warre with toile with seas betost But now the brunte is past I ioy to singe what kinde of sea what slaues what ship was there How foolish chaunce by lotte rulde euery thing how error was maine saile each waue a teare The master Loue himselfe deepe sighes the winde cares roade with vowes the ship vnmerry minde False hope at helme ofte turnde the boate about and fickle faith stoode vp for middle maste Despaire the cable twisted rounde with dout helde grieping griefe the picked anchoare fast Beautie was all the rockes but I at last am now twise free and all my loue is past Loue for vertue of longest continuance THe chiefest care we ought to haue is to adorne the minde With beautie such as best beséemes and most accordes with kinde Of greater force this beautie is a Ladies loue to gaine Then that which foolish folke commends and wise men count but vaine The loue of vertue lastes for aye which choice no chaunce can chaunge But loue for luste time turnes to nought and quickly makes it straunge When crooked age doth once creepe in braue beautie bids adue And then those fondlinges all too late their former follies rue But vertue bides in perfecte plight and to the vertuous bringes delight Loues Epitath HEre lyes blinde Loue here lyes the bedlem boy here lyes the God that all the Gods did feare Here lyes intoumbde Cithenas greatest ioy here lyes the bow that Loue was wonte to beare Here lie the shaftes here lie the piercing dartes wherewith erewhile he tamde the stoutest hartes Now is he dead now can he doe no more no signe appeares that he shall liue againe To plague poore soules as he hath done before and pinch their harts with straunge tormenting pain Now is he dead and who the cause but she whose blasing beames blinde all the worlde I see Ofte did he proone and all to none effecte to force his fire to fasten in her brest Her frozen harte did still his flame reiecte and made him muse to see his power supprest Deceaued so he knew not what to say ne coulde he iudge the cause of his decay To proue his fire if it had force or no vnto his winges he put the burning brande The fire tooke holde for needes it must doe so then he too late poore soule did vnderstande His fonde conceate and filde the aire with cries no plaintes preuailde he died and here he lyes At latter gaspe a grieuous sighe he gaue and saide farewell ye faithfull Louers all Now proofe shewes plaine what grieuous pangs ye haue what force my fire what power to make you thrall I finde it now that feltâ— it not before but be contente it shall offende no more If former faultes did merite worthy blame the blame is greate I haue incurde thereby My life must pay my raunsome now with shame A shamefull death I am at poynte to die My glorie gone my bâ—anes consumde to dust you haue your will abide it needes I must In commendation of his Mistresse I Smile to thinke how fonde conceite deceaues the finest wittes To féede them with a daintie baite that choakes them all by bittes How fondly some commende the face and some the smoothie skinne And some preferre in highest place the tender doubled chinne What should I stande to recken vp their trashe and trumpery That drinkes the dregges of euery cuppe and praise it to the skie Let such goe bragge them in the crew of baser minded swaines They neuer came yet where it grow nor paide more then their paines But if my Mistres woulde vouchsafe her beautie to discouer Then iustly might they frette and chafe that so they past her ouer He that triumphes in sweetest blis I know then would repine No man that saw her but would wishe oh
séemed so straunge and so greatly amazed him that he stoode in doubt a great while whether he saw her in deede or else dreamed that he saw her but when he came to himselfe againe and knew for certaine that it was she he said vnto her Alas my deare art thou yet aliue it is long since that I hard report that thou was lost neither could it be knowen whether thou weÌ„test or what was become of thée This said weping bitterly he imbraced and kissed her a thousand times together Then did Constance tell him of all her aduentures and how courteously the good Lady had delt with her from time to time after which and diuers other talke that they had together he departed from thence and going to the King his Maister aduertised him of all that had happened to him and his frend Constance crauing leaue of him to marry her according to his countrie maner The King greatly marueling at the matter sent for Constance who confirming all that Martuccio had reported he said vnto her Now truly faire vigin thou art worthy to haue him to thy husbande for whom thou hast taken such paines and passed so many perils wherefore bestowing many large gifts vpon them he gaue them leaue to do whatsoeuer they thought good Then Martuccio very liberally rewarding the Lady for the great beneuolence that she had vsed towardes Constance in her aduersity with the Kings licence tooke leaue of all his frends in that country with Constance and Chereprise tooke shippe and returned very rich to Lippare where they were so chearefully receaued of all their frendes who neuer thought to haue seene them againe that it is not possible to declare the excéeding ioy that this seconde méeting did bring to euery one of them To conclude Martuccio and Constance to their great comfort and contentment beinge solemnelye married euer after duringe the tearme of their life enioyed their loue together as they ought without any impediment or let to their deserued pleasure The complaint of one in misery THe day séemes long to them that dwel in dole and short the time to such as liue in ioy The sickmans griefe ful litle knowes the hole so much delight doth differ from annoy That th one doth cause in man desire to die thother stil to liue continually What man would wish to liue that liues in woe and in delight who would desire to die Since that by death an end of grief doth grow and death of ioyes depriues vs vtterly Of worldly ioyes for only so I meane of which we see death doth depriue vs cleane Wherby not all olde prouerbes true I finde for old said sawes do say that life is swéete But death is more desierd of noble minde then life to leade for liuing farre vnmeete Which loathed life doth make me thus to crie I liue too long come death and let me die A Louer fancied but not fauoured of Fortune MY mourning minde doth craue some sweet delite and fancie fame would lend me some I see But fortune frownes and sendes me foule despite and care doth kepe all comfort quite from me Such passions strange doe stil perplex my mind as I despaire of any ease to find But let me sée I must not yet despaire Dame fortunes wheele may happen â—ourne againe When stormes are past the weather may be faire and pleasure comes vnlookt for after paine Things at the worst the prouerbe saith will mend why should not then my sorrowes haue an end But old said Sawes are not yet scripture all for thinges at worst are past all mendinge quite To pininge hartes all pleasure semeth small what mirthe can doo the pyâ—ing harte delight When fates do frowne and fortune is our foe â—ought can be thought to rid the mynd of woe The nature of the Larke described THe little Larke that in the ground is hatcht and there bredde vp till fethers make her flye No sooner she a flight or two hath catcht but vp she mountes vnto the lofty skye Where if she sée Sonne shine and weather fayre how then for ioy she twittles in the ayre But if she sée the winde beginne to blow it poure downe raine and tempestes do arise Within a bush she kéepes her selfe full lowe where prety wretch close to the ground she lyes Vntill such time as all the stormes be past and then againe she geuâ—th her vp in hast Which plainely shewes the nature in the Larke is still to séeke to mount to loftie skie And though perhaps you now and then may marke a kistrell kite to make a flight so hye Yet all things waide if eache thinge haue his right a larke will far be likde aboue a kite The hawty mynde how it disposeth it selfe WHat hill so hye but litle emmets clyme what pretious perle but pore by trauel gaine What thinge so hard but is atchiud in tyme what pleasure such but may be got with payne What doubte so great but hope may men assure see more what heauen but prayer may procure The heauie Asse both kepe the valley still the clownishe coultes do loue the Country best When hawtie hartes do clime the highest hill and gallant mindes do séeke in courte to rest The cowarde dreades and in dispairs doth dye when boldest bloodes by hope do clime full hye Then let my harte goe clime the hyest hill and leaue the valley for the countrie Asse My mynd in courte shall séeke by trauell still to finde a pearle which farre all pearles doth passe My hope shall rest vpon a princely minde by helpe of God some heauenly grace to finde Loathing his life he wisheth for death WHat greater gréefe then tormentes of the hart which dayly grow by troubles of the minde And what such ioy as sodaine ease of smart which long time sought full hard hath bene to finde What heauen on earth with lucky loue to dwell then luckâ—les loue againe what greater hell But how fares he that féeleth no delight what world is that where nothing is but woe What woe to that which worketh such despight as makes a man no kinde of comfort knowe What life leades he that dayly cries to die far worse then death loe such a life lead I Then let me thus conclude my tale in briefe I am the man that only may lament A lothsome life that finde no ease of griefe nor hopes for help vntil my dayes be spent And sadly so I end my solemne song Come come good death I dying liue too long Hanging betweene hope and despaire he calleth for helpe TWixt chearefull hope and comfortles despaire straungely perplext ful sore amasde I stand Hope seemes to shew the weather wil be faire and darke despaire sayes tempestes are at hand Venture says hope despaire doth bid me slack hope prickes me on despaire doth pull me back Haue wel says hope despaire doth bid me doubt trust me says hope despaire says hope is vaine Shrinke not says hope despaire cries not to stout labour says hope
vertue gone and all good dealing dead Then let me seeke to doe as others doe by subtile sleights to creepe in credite too What haue I saide shal I by subtile â—leight séeke credite no my hart such dealing hates My troth hath vowd for to detest deceit such meanes are best for such ill meaning mates As credite seeke vnto so vile an end as wisdome findes a foe of such a friend And for my selfe since that I know indéede that vertue gaines the greatest good that is Although with some it stande in little steade yet with the best it thryueth not amisse I craue of God though here my hap be hard by vertue I in heauen may haue reward Loue good and badde STraunge were the life that euery man would léeke more straunge the state that should mislike ech one Rare were the iemme that euery one would seeke and little worth that all would let alone Swéete were the meate that euery one would choose and soure the sauce that all men would refuse Yet such a life and such a state there is such iemme such ioy such meate such sauce and all And if I doe not take my markes amisse by but one worde I could descry them all Which onely worde that shewes them all by name is this worde Loue that plainly shewes the same Who would not wish to leade his life in loue and who so madde to séeke to liue in woe Yet he that meanes the ioyes of loue to proue is like perforce most bitter panges to know In loue such woes with ioyes are ioynde together take t 'one take both or leaue both chose you whether Loue right is rare and worthy to be sought but counterfaite is but a foolish toy Whose vertues rare as rare effectes haue wrought and which mistaâ—e hath wrought as great annoy But right so rare and hard is to be knowne as who would seeke were better let alone Fonde fancies fruites are all the soode of loue whose sause most soure is sorrowes sugred gall Which messe of meate doth in disgestion proue to yeld both minde and bodie comfort small Yet see the spite who of the fruite would eate must suppe thâ— sauce or let alone the meate Another Eh cruell care that cals to minde in vaine the thriftles time that reachles youth hath spent Hadst thou but waighd in pleasures past the paine that present now I doe too late repent Then hadst thou sau'de me from such sorrowes smart as now I sée doe so consume my hart But since at first thou letst me slippe at large to follow wil the worker of my woe Too late alas thou takst me now in charge with secreat sorrowes to consume me so Then leaue me Care or quickly lend me cure least loathed life no longer doe endure What sayst thou Care or canst thou make no way to winne the good that wanton will hath lost Oh then good death doe thou no more delay to kill me thus with careful troubles tost But must I liue then God who knowes my griefe cut of my cares and lend me some reliefe Long haue I walkt to tire my restles minde yet tyred am long since with weary woes And yet though tierd no resting place can finde where I might once my restles minde repose But tyred thus on on must trauaile still till want of rest my wearyed carkas kil Ah wretched walke that hath such weary ende which ende though long would I could finde it yet But fates doe frowne fortune is not my frend and wretched woes haue ouerworne my wit So that in vaine I seeke I see in fine to set at rest this wearye minde of mine I sought for loue but found out foule despight a way that was quite wide from that I sought But since alas I followed follie quight and left the way that trustie reason taught In weary wayes I now must wander stil to see the sorrowes of my wretched will But Ladies yee that leade your liues at ease and are not forcd to treade one step awry Nor passe one foote more then may pleasure please with ruth respecte my wofull treachery And when you fall into your tyring talke with pittie waigh poore Bretons wearie walke Another T Is straunge Madame to see you straunge that stoode so much on tearmes of truth From which so soone to see you chaunge doth shew in you a tricke of youth A trick of youth to take a toy to take a toy and tourne away And tourne away from your sweete ioy from your sweete ioy that would not stray From whom you once could say and sweare not death it selfe should make you start But since you lickt and likd els where your vowed oath is layd a parte And let it lye a parte for me for I my selfe haue vowed too To flie as farre as fast from thee as thou from me canst thinke to doe And so shall either be content thou hast thy wish and I my will VVhereof who first seemes to repent let them bite on the bridle still Another T Is luste that leades your loue awry t is chaunge that makes you check your choise T is fancie makes your faith to fly t is follie makes you false your voice But reckon what you get thereby And put your winnings in your eye T is wanton wordes that winnes your will t is wauering wit that makes you trippe T is double dealing drawes you still t is sorrie meaning makes you slippe But reckon what you get thereby and put your winnings in your eye For luste with loathing once wil reaue and chaunge perchaunce your choise will choke Fonde fancie ofte her fall doth weaue that puts on follie for her cloake But reckon what you gaine thereby and put your winninges in your eye When wanton woordes are tournd to winde and wauering witte hath wrought your woe Then dooble dealinge you shall finde and sorry meaning both your foe And counting then your gaine thereby you may put winninges in your eye The frutes of ielousy DAme Procris Don Cephalus old Ouid tels the tale were lincked fast in loyall loue as maried man wife And blisfully they lead their liues deuoyde of any bale till Ielousy threw in a boane the roote of all their strife He gaue the first occasion and subtillie he sought disfigured to prooue her truth corrupting her with gold To vnderminde her chastitie this â—aight her loue hath cought for where the batterie is so hoat weake women cannot hold He blameth her inconstancie she blusheth at her fall and for to shrowde her self fro shame she frames her self to flight Thus banished she bides abroad til weried therwithal he cald her home and reconcil'd he doth forgeue her quight In profe of this attonement made on him she doth bestow a dogge a darte of sundrie sorte excelling in their kinde The dogge he mist no chase in hunt the darte it mist no blow a man might seeke the world for such yet not their matches finde In concord thus continuing Don Cephalus doth vse to
key and a locke A bedde and a 〈◊〉 and other such 〈◊〉 A fillet a paste a combe and a glasse A potte and a panne with vessels and brasse And twentie such toyes which here I let passe And yet it doth chaunce most commonly after God sendes vs a childe a boy or a daughter Then must I prouide who so euer begate her Some ragges and some iagges to folde and to wrap her A Nurse and a midwife to holde vp her backe Some spyces to make her a posset of sacke And other such trinkets as these young wiues doe lack Which if that they haue not our loue goes to wracke A cradle a swathbande a pillow of downe A wastecote a biggin to wrappe the childes crowne A wenche for to rocke it with downe a downe downe Or els t is time for me to packe out a towne A possenette and sugar to make the childe pappe A blancket of woollen the childe for to wrappe If this be not gotten such fortune may happe At her first vprysing I beare her a clappe If I marrye a widdow you bid me not care She bringeth all this geare and other such ware Your stocke and your treasure thereby you may spare Enritching your substance to maintaine your fare But yet Sir I pray you remember well this Not one shrow of twentie among them there is Whose children and kinsfolke at any time misse To prowle or conuay away that thinge or this Now hath she a daughter now hath she a sonne Now hath she a Cosin the worlde hath begon I must geue them a ladle a dishe and a spoone Which if I deny them our frendshippe is done And then Sir withall she will clothe her in yelowes And â—uming and â—â—etting she beginnes to be ielious With scoulding and brawling she lets not to tell vs At stues and at tauerns al 's spent on good fellowes She sumes and she frettes she fomes like a bore She sweares she was neuer thus vsed before Ere this time I might haue bestowed my store To geue at my pleasure a little or more If I 〈◊〉 you say Sir she makes me good cheare With caudels and possettes and good double beere For money at all times I can buy this geare What neede I to keepe then a wise all the yeare What neede I to finde one meate drinke and array To keepe one at liuerie by night and by day For when I would dallie with sporte and with play I can meete with a sweeting a snatch and away If once I doe marrie and take me a wyfe To brauling and scoulding I am bounde all my lyfe To â—aunting and vaunting to discorde and stryfe The practise of this thinge is commonlie ryfe I am bounde for to tarrie for her still at home To toyle and to moyle for her all alone Whilest she sittes a feasting with olde mother Ione I must be a drudging for her like a mome All these thinges with other that I coulde resight From wooing and wiuing driue me away quight And I will bestow my sweetest delight With sweete sleepe to passe out the longe drowsie night These maydes be so wanton these widdowes so wood That neither of both will doe me any good These widdowes be withered they drinke vp my blood These maydes be so lustie I le none by the roode And therefore I will till you agree on the one Thus holde me contented to liue still alone The commendation of hope WHo hopeth much and feareth nought at all doth shew him selfe too desperate of minde VVho feareth much and hath his hope but small in such conceate can little comforte finde Who stammering standes halfe hoping halfe in dread assure him selfe shall haue a troubled head Who hopes for nought nor feareth ought at all is rather madde or not of humaine kinde VVho â—lymes by hope and feareth euery fall doth doubtles beare a most vnquyet minde VVho dreads the worst and al wayes hopes the best what euer happe is euer best at rest But he that hopes vpon so sure a ground as sets the spight of foule despaire aparte And to his hope such heauenly happe hath found as yealdes the thing that most contents his harte Let him not boast but geue God thankes for all who helpte him vp and sau'de him from a fall For he it is that helpes the honest harte that geues the hope that neuer needes to feare VVhich findes a salue to euery sodaine smarte and keepes the minde in quyet euery where In him alone mine only hope shal rest this life once lefte in heauen to liue at rest A warning to wanton Louers CEase sorrowe now for thou hast done the deede for care hath now consumde my carcase quight No hope no help nor hap can stande in steed for dolefull dayes doth cut of all delight Yet while I heare the toling of the bell before I die I wright this fainte farewell VVho loues to leade his life in quyet rest beware the worst of what so may befall Abandone Loue feede not on fancies feast least hungrie harte in vaine for comforte call And sorrow then doe so assaile thy minde the witte bewitchd a worlde of woes doe finde And then comes care for to tormente my harte when nought auayles to languish or lament For longe the harte doth pine in secreat smarte before the dayes be quight in sorrow spent This finde I true and for good will I tell ware wanton loue and so I say farewell A fancie I Woulde yet will not yes yes no no why for that my will and woulde doe disagrée For why to worke my would contentedly my wish to will doth wante too farre I sée Which makes me thus against my will to say I woulde yet nill but will when so I may I may why now I may yet may I not for that my may is not such as I woulde Yet what I may full fayne I would God wotte and more would wishe if so be that I coulde Which more might I then would I quickly say I woulde and will and glad in that I may But oh that will his wish cannot attaine and that delight should so desire denie That willing hartes should labour all in vaine when will and wordes doe méete so contrarie Yet what of this I hope to sée the day when that my woulde may finde a willing may A farewell to Fancie FAncie farewell that wroughtst my fonde delight delight adue that wroughtst my deepe distresse Distresse adue that wroughtst my déepe despight Despight adue for death doth lende redresse And death adue for though I thus be slaine in thy despight I hope to liue againe Faire Dames adue whose loue hath wrought my woe and farewel woe that wearyed hath my wittes And farewell witte with will bewitched so and farewell will so full of franticke â—ittes Fransie farewell whose sorce I feele too sore and farewell feeling for I féele no more And life adue that I haue lou'de and loathd and farewell loue that makes me lothe my life Both loue and