after death doth vertue liue O death in spight of thée For she of grace the garlande gay in goodly giftes did weare Whose flowres do now in children wise of Talbots line appéere Of Rutlandes race she noblie sprang and linkt with péerlesse pearle Of Shrewisburie who bare the name a noble worthy Earle Whome she hath left behinde among the blessed branches fine The worthy imps that sprang of them as of a vertuous Uine To poore she was a pleasant port to all a helpe she came By teares that haue beene spent for hir the poore haue shewde the same O noble hart whose Well of grace shall spring and neuer drie Who being hie didst bend thy brest vnto the poorst degrée Unto the weake shée was a strength vnto the hungrie foode Unto the rude a lamp of light vnto the wisemen good Unto the youth she was a guide vnto the aged ioy Unto the noble ornament vnto the blinde a way In towne she was a shyning starre for hir all better were In Countrie ioy at home a glasse to vewe in gladding chere Hir beautie great hir vertues greatst that sprang as flagrant flowres Alas what treasure haue we lost for all the losse is oures For she hath gainde O Death by thée but we haue shipwrack made And nowe in earth our helpe is lapt our light is turnde to shade O what a losse so many giftes of grace so lost in one For which eche wight that knew hir well cannot but greatly mone But drie ye vp your dréerie teares she liues without anoy O comely courteous Countesse now farewell O Iem of ioy Farewell O spring of vertues swéete farewell of help the store Both high and low bewaile thy want farwell for euermore Of ingratitude WHo rightly scans what thing is greatest gréefe And seekes by proofe the truth therof to trie Shall surely finde ingratitude the chéefe Surmounting farre eche other wo on hie Whose freting force when friendlie wight shal féele All mirth and ioy to care doth straight conuart Yea weare the hart of craggie flinte or stéele It scarse coulde shoonne to waile such bitter smart Who therfore séekes by paines to please the prowd Unthankefull wight compared well may bée To hym that kepes a Cur which barkes as lowde At Feaders face as when he foe doth sée Or Viper eke who long with carefull thought In wofull wombe hir tender younglings feedes By whome at last hir balefull bale is wrought Through their ingrate and most vnfriendly déedes Whose nature is to worke the place most griefe Where they in time haue had full great reliefe Of all ingrate loe héere the gotten gaine And onely hyre for well deserued paine Of Death SInce death doth leade to lyfe And lyfe is lasting ioy ▪ To stay why make men strife Where nought is but anoy Answere WHy men such strife doe sowe To staye in place of paine Where you the cause would knowe I gesse its worldly gaine And since the fleshe is fraile Eche weake and féeble wight When death doth once assaile Resistes with all their might Then blame not wealthie wights Which knowes of néede no lack But lyue in déepe delights To die though they drawe back When néedie soule in déede Of death doth stande in dréede To one that faine would speede yet doubtfull to proceede AS Cat would faine eate fishe Yet loth hir foote to wet So lyest thou still and wishe Where trauaile gaine should get That labor first brings gaine Thou seest by little Ante Who through whot Sommers paine Doth shoon colde winters wante The swéete that Bee doth suck Comes not by lying still The grapes for wine men pluck Are gote by trauailes skill The Marchant eke men know Great goods by trauaile gaines The Plowman séede doth sow To reape rewarde for paines Not wishe I say therefore But trauaile wealth doth winne Who so then will haue store By trauaile must beginne Strong monstrous mounts to réele Rough craggie rocks to rent And eke the sturdie stéele Oft trauaile makes relent For trauaile is the way Eche noble gift to gaine Use therein no delay And spare thou not for paine For who so paine doth spare To speake where he would spéede And makes eche doubt his care A dastarde is in deede The Louer being in the Countrie showeth his good will to his Ladie in the Court. THough corps in Countrie bée in Court my countnance is My ioy my care my lyfe my death mine endlesse bale or blis My pleasure pine and paine my helpe my harme also My griping griefe my greatest gaine my friend and eke my fo And doubtfull though to some to scan this case may séeme Yet you I know no wisedome want much déeper doubts to déeme Wherefore I will omit my minde at large to tell Lest by the way some watchman lay to ring the larome bell Such spightfull spiders snares I aye doe seeke to shonne As not the foolishe flie betraies but greater harmes haue done Who pufte with poyson strong like Momus mates doe still Some discorde cause and bate in place where else might grow good will But let them worke their worste looke what I haue profeste If you commaunde I will performe I spare to speake the rest And so I doe conclude and cease my ragged rime As he that skill of schoole doth want Pernasus mount to clime To his Friend R. H. WIth hatefull hawtie haunt not For dainefull dizards daunt not For witlesse vaunters faint not For truthlesse taunters taint not For spitefull spiders spare not For curious carpers care not But Hussie as thou hast begunne Holde on thy race in vertue runne The Louer to his L. THe fierie flames that fast on me doe flowe The secret sighes that wast my wofull brest The ysie colde I féele like flakes of snowe The hidden harmes that breede my great vnrest By fancies force doe cause such troublous tyde That ship now shakes which late in roade did ride Answere WHere reason rules affection fonde doth flie And bewties beames no bitter bale may breed Where wisedome will by vertues skill doth tie Cupidoes flames are quenched forth with spéed Let reason then thy will by wisedome guide So shalt thou safely shonne this trembling tide Golde corrupteth THough most where welth doth flowe Men fayning friendship showe Yet faythfull friend in déede Is knowne in time of neede Aunswere BUt nowe we féele and finde A thing to true in déede Where man be foe or friende The Golde and goods shall speede For vertues all are shut Unto the lower place And money loft is put Eche learned head to face If money none thou hast Thou art not worth a flie Thy credit cleane is past All vertues husht doe lie A learned man but poore Is counted doting foole Wise Virgill stands at dore To goe againe to schoole Yet once I hope to sée All money go for drosse And vertue high to bée To winne hir wrongfull losse A Poesie EStéeme a friend Let vertue crease In friendly minde Sometime is
faithfull loue whose want breedes mine anoy Remember yet the friendly wordes ypast betwéene vs twaine Forget him not for loue of thée that sighes in secret paine I oft doe séeme in companie a gladsome face to beare But God thou knowst my inward woes and cares that rent me there And that I may gush out my griefe in secret place alone I bid my friends farewell in hast I say I must be gone Then hast I fast with heauie hart in this my dolefull case Where walkes no wight but I alone in drowsie desart place And there I empt my laden hart that swelde in fretting mone My sighes and plaint and panges I tell vnto my selfe alone What shall I say doe aske me once why all these sorrowes bée I aunswere true O foe or friend they all are made for thée Once knit the linck that loue may last then shall my dolors cease It lies in thée and wilt thou not the yeelding wight release O would to God it lay in me to cure such griefe of thine Thou shouldst not long be voide of helpe if twere in powre of mine But I would run and raunge in stormes a thousand miles in paine Not fearing foyle of friends to haue my Countnance whole againe And wilt thou then all mercilesse more longer torment mée In drawing back sith my good helpe is onely whole in thée Then sende me close the hewing knife my wyder wounde to stratch And thou shalt sée by wofull griefe of life a cleane dispatch When thou shalt saye and prone it true my hart entirely loude Which lost the lyfe for Countnance sweete from whome he neuer moude Write then vpon my mournefull toombe these verses grauen aboue Here lies the hart his truth to trie that lost his life in loue Loe saue or spill thou mayst me nowe thou sitst in iudgement hie Where I poore man at barre doe stande and lowde for life doe crie Thou will not be so mercilesse to slea a louing hart Small praise it is to conquer him that durst no where to start Then heale the hart that loues thée well vntill the day he die And firmely fast thy fayth on him thats true continually Then shall I blesse the pleasant plot where first I sawe thy face And say the Gods haue thée indude with giftes of goodly grace Whose vertues mixt with pittie great hir Counsell sought to saue Who being voyde of hir good helpe long since had line in graue I. K. at his Friends departure AGainst necessitie there is no lawe they say But shall such néede bereaue perforce my dearest friend away No stroke doth fall so fell But wisedome yet may ware So though my hope must néedes begon yet this doth crushe my care That he is onely gone Utilitie to gaine And still I Ho to sée him well in ioy returnde againe His friends that freshely fare will not his hart refell God sende thée safe thy soules desire to please thee passing well Then shall I yet reioyce that thou departst from mée To set thy selfe in sounder sort as once I hope to sée When as thou shalt take rode within the Hauen of blis Till then to beare with patience the chiefest helpe it is God sende thée well to doe in due delight to dwell God send thée that thou most desirst Mine owne good Ho farewell H. his aunswere to his Friend K. PErforce though Pilate bée which hastes thy Ho. away From pleasant porte where still behinde his Iem of ioy doth stay Yea though the furious floodes his beaten barke doe waste Which gaping gulfes oft threatneth sore to swallow vp in haste Yet distance none so great nor plundge of present paine Shall cause me once my friend forget whilst lyfe in lim shall raigne Whose stedfast truth well tryed whose golden giftes of grace Whose manlie minde whose friendship firme who liues and will not brace Let fortune worke hir worst and spoute hir spightfull spight In welth in wo in ioy in care yet I in thée delight To whome ten thousande thankes I yéelde for thy good will And where thou woulst me one good hap I wishe thée twentie still Farewell O Titus true whose lyke were harde to finde Farewell for faith a Phoenix firme O curteous Keeper kinde A Poesie EXpend my words which soule w t hart doth write Let that be loude which loues thee passing well In space comes grace as worthie wits recite Soule hart and hand thou hast no more I tell Attend on God and waite his will to worke Be sober wise discréete in time and place Estéeme a friend where earnest hart doth lurke Trie ere thou trust and shonne no pooremans case Higher who clims the déeper downe he fell But set my broken barke in calme to starte Reiect no right lose not a heauen for hell Applie to purchase praise by due desarte Deride no wight the best good ayde may mend Beware betime be wise in courtesie Use time and place as may to vertue tend Right thus thou mayst thy praise amount on hie No wight no welth no hart but thou alone Enforceth me at times to ioy and mone To his C. MY wofull hart with pinching paine oprest My carefull corps yclad with heauinesse My restlesse lims that takth no quiet rest Doe wishe for death the ende of déepe distresse Why should I then prolong my dayes in paine Why doe I seeke to heale my helthlesse hart Or why doth lyfe in lanquisht limes remaine And still increase my bitter bale and smart When hart when hands when corps soule to die Doe willing yeelde as lothing lenger lyfe And death alone is ende continuallie Of worldly woes of cursed care and strife Which fiercely flow on me to worke my spight Since I of force must now for go thy sight Whose face to vewe was onely my delight To his fayned Friends THough some perchaunce there bée That would me gladly spot Yet shall they neuer sée Such chaunce to light my lot Ne yet their craftie wayes So closely clokte shall winne To them but little prayse If once I doe beginne Hereafter comes not yet Yeâ—â—â—ce a time I trust Will serue wherein to méete With such as be vniust Wherefore these words I vse I nothing néede to tell Nor you theron to muse Who knowes my meaning well A Poesie IN morning still when thou dost rise sée that in minde thou haue To spende the day which doth ensue as bed should be thy graue Another THere nothing is that nature here hath wrought Shall not consume and turne at last to nought FINIS A farewell to his Friend T. Hooper WHen as the soking sap crept vp on spraies that budde And blosomde branch with goodly gréene gan cloth the naked woode When Winters horie frostes milde March enforst to flee Then came my golden faithfull friend and swéetely chéered mée Whose face at first to vewe mée musde full wounderous For I assone had thought to sée of Troy king Priamus He cheerde my drooping hart in heauie â—ap that stoode With him
townes it drawes to ground at length Refuse therefore suche mate to matche though faire she be of face For inward vice with colours spreade doth outward vewe disgrace No credit giue to other men to choose a wife of fee For oft that other men displeasth may pleasaunt séeme to thée If loue be linckt and mate be curst and bende hir frowning brow Applie thy tongue to sugred spéeche that she may leaue to crow Exhort perswade desire entreat and praye hir still to be Embrace hir corps in louing armes and friendly amitie And swéetely kisse hir cherrie chéekes with gentle giftes hir deck And close thy handes most louingly about hir Iuorie neck Thus séeke all sayes hir sore to salue by good and honest way If this help not but froward fem will stiffely stande astray Then pleasant spéech suppresse and faine a sower vnsauerie looke As though thou wouldst deuour the walles and hang the house on hooke With bitter words beswindge this dame let no perswasion lack Let homely stripes sometimes on fall on yong vnrulie back But modest be thy strokes to strike let reason rule thy rate If fewe serue not hir hart to help thou mayest repent to late Take faythfull spouse of humble hart and graft in godly grace Graue wise discréete lernd méeke and one that beautie beares in face Who doth forgo hir deerest friendes and parents leauth eche one Hir selfe by troth shée fréely plight to husbands powre alone In kylling cares both sicke and whole shée faythfull is to thée Shée is thy ioy and comfort swéete though rich or poore thou bée Shée will obey at all commaundes in stormes and cruell smart In mirth in griefe in pouerishment shée bydes and takes hir part If fierce disease shall crase thy corps hir wylling helpe she dightes She cherisheth thée she sweetely speakes shée watchth both dayes and nightes When crooked age shall créepe on thée with stealing steps so blife Shée still prouides shée runnes and goes to heale thy sicklye life Of bodies two one corps is made so linckt in lotted loue Which streming stormes and bitter blast can not by paines remoue Yea after death shee life doth lende when pale thou rotst in grounde In sonnes by hir thy formed face may alwayes plaine be founde So that thy corps and shape be forme with long retayned name Doe florish fresh as springs the flowre to thy long byding fame But who so lapt in lyuing lewde with harlots vile remaine These fruits doth lose with name and fame and spends his goodes in vaine Defame shall eke abridge his dayes corruption corps shall slay And lyuers lewde sure God will iudge no doubt another day When as the vyle and stinking Goates shall passe to endlesse woe To fierie forkes and flames of hell in Limbo lake byloe By proofe these rules of mariage I doe not surely know But men of more experience the same to me did sho Which I for thée my tried friend by paine of simple quill Haue rudely set in this poore verse for want of cunning skill Fewe care for the soule all for the body WHen as the crased corps in groning bed doth lie The skilfull art of phisicks cure is sought for by and bie Which right prescribeth rules that thou must needes obserue By passing paines which thou doest kéepe though thou therefore shouldst sterue Such bitter brunts thou bearst thy bodies health to haue But who will take a little toyle his sicklie soule to saue No carnall men in cares are carnally ybent All gape for gaine there is no God but God make vs repent To his Friend Tho. Howell WHere oft the flouds doe floe vpon the beaten banck Their sandes debarre the grasse to groe to spread his Aprill spranck And where the sonne doth march vpon the greened grasse In time it will the pasture parch as though it neuer was So where the sonne bright friends my Howell hauntes to hit There vsed lyfe in present winds will kéeper cleane forget Their daylie flouds of talke shall ouerflow thy grasse That kéeper hath obliuious walkt as though he neuer was And reason tis I meane why shouldst thou kéeper kéepe Since thou mayest lose in keeping him that nothing can but sléepe For sléepish dumps me shut from taste of cunning stile Nor can I boult my rudenesse out which lies on rustie file Yet holde in mindefull moode our auncient amitie For faithfull friends giue present salue for all the cares that be An aunswere NOt floing floudes the féeble banck that frets Nor swelting heat whose flames y e pastures fry Nor slipprie sande which faint foundation lets Thy Howell once maye cause from thée to wry Ne shall the show of shining sunne bright friend By vsed lyfe or phrase of filed talke Haue powre to put my kéeper out of minde Whose tryed truth may not obliuious walke And where thou seemst to say that sluggish sléepe Hath shut thée forth from tast of learned lore From out they muse as from a Fountaine déepe Doth flowe the fruites of Ladie learnings store Thy wyt thy workes thy verse and stately stile Thy wayes thy déedes who well doth scan vew Shall finde therein nought forste with rustie file Though I want skil to giue thée praise thats dew Our lincke of loue and friendship fixt so fast Thy Howell howldes whylst lim life shall last The vanitie of riches THe stately Pallace princely pight the hoord of glistering Golde The patrimonie largde of landes cannot from sicknesse holde Nor can they cure the crased corps or glad the minde at all For who hath most of such a store the more he feares as thrall Gold is the father to the flock of flatterers by lot It is the summe of griefe or woe who bath or hath it not For who it hath he quakth in feare lest fortune rob his thrift Who hath it not laments bicause he knowes not how to shift Wherefore of riche or poore I iudge as wisedome small I hent In best estate is he with his that liues alwayes content An Epitaph made vppon the death of the right Honorable the Lady Gartrid late Countesse of Shrewisburie THe steling sting of gasping death that byth by fatall force To bring vnto the wailed graue this Countesse courteous corse Had thought to thrust his spitefull speare to wounde this Fem to die And quite to dim this glorious Gem the flower of courtesie And cloth hir corps in shrowding shéete to woorke hir endlesse wo But O thou death thou art deceaude for that is nothing so Nor canst thou mar or stop the trumpe that soundes hir during fame More health then harme more blisse then bale to hir by thée there came For she hath light in lasting life of endlesse ioyes ywis So where thou thoughst to spoute thy spite thou hast hir brought to blisse So enuie gaue thée not the power thy malice madde to fill But thou hast done this Countesse good vnwares against thy will For nowe hir noble name shall byde in sounder soueraigntie And
peace As flowers spring But sone doe fall Euen so eche thing Terrestriall Hope feedeth hart Ere loue take place Bréede not a smart Right to disgrace As ioyfull lot Doth me assigne By goodnesse got O ioy is mine Uaine nay if mée Refuse me héere Nay sone shall see Eche wounde me téere The vncertaintie of this worlde AS Player playes on stage till parte be done So man alike his race one earth doth runne To day alyue in silkes and fine aray To morrow dead and cladde with clot of clay Of earthly things loe here the slipper stay A diet prescribed to his Friend G. MY friend to holde thy harmlesse helth a diet must thou keepe As phisicks Art shall thée instruct men first did learne to créepe Abstaine thou still to féede thy fleshe which swelles in pampred pride Tabstaine from sinne a meane there is as fathers olde haue saide And first all noysome lothed meate that white is doe eschewe As lime and paper tallow chalke and from all partchment newe From all meat sharp as dagger swords with kniues and sharped speares From black as tarre and tarre box pitch and sut that chimney smeares From hard that cannot well disgest as milstone timber flint But chiefly flie a female foole O woes that doe not stint From all meate light as fethers flocks fine downe and sifted haye From heauie things as lead and tinne with brasse and yron aye From all meate soft as wooll and flaxe bombaste and winds that bloe From things but grosse as stéeples towres trées walles and manye moe From things but leane as rakes and forkes with wodcocks billes and braine With pothookes potled whetstone smoth all these are vices vaine Alution O be not white through enuious wrath against the captiues wise Nor be thou sharpe to sorrow them least black as pitch thou rise Nor be thou hard vnto the poore nor light to credit lies Nor heauie be to presse downe wyt till truth the matter tries Go not to soft in slothfull sort to men of antique store And leaue the wyttes that grosser be which are but leane in lore Pluck downe no house nor pen things false nor grease thy booke with glose Seeke no mans death by enuious sting for witlesse men be those Flée doctrine false which makes thée black to lurck in lothsome hell Séeke not to farre that God hath hid fooles braines be neuer well Let chastitie prayer abstinence direct a christian shéepe No Pastor light Christs flock must haue but men most graue them keepe Depaire no Church nor auncient acte in building be not sloe Conuey you not to other realmes the fruites that héere doe groe Flée foolishe guides that roue at large which truthlesse tongue doe straine As potled tales they prate aloft so thende will proue but vaine To fast and pray to help the poore to profite all with good This is a healthfull phisick note to stop the lustie blood The Rose WHen as the myldest Month of ioly Iune doth spring And Gardens gréene with happy hue their famous fruites doe bring When eke the lustiest time reuiueth youthly blood Then springs the finest featurde flowre in border fayre that stood Which moueth me to say in time of pleasant yéere Of all the pleasant flowres in Iune the red Rosse hath no péere Of Golde O Gracious Golde Whose glittring hie Doth chéere and holde Eche gazing eie The sweete delight That dwelles in thée Doth spoyle eche spight And pouertie It liftes aloft Who late was loe And foole makes oft For wiseman goe What ioy what gaine What worldly thing Doth want to them That Golde doe bring Gold buildeth townes Golde maketh ioy Gold cheereth clownes Golde quelth anoy Golde all can doe Golde raignes alone Alas what woe Where Golde is none Which I poore wyght By proofe doe sée Which gladly séeke That will not bee But well I weare If I might catch White siluer cléere Which all men snatch The louer forsaken bewayleth his estate O Drooping hart deprest with deadly care whose stretched strings be crackt in péeces smal ▪ Thy secret sighes thy panting oft declare What heauie hap in wo to thée did fall Now crie thou clapt in chaines as captiue thrall What hart can ioy alas in miserie To beare the blasts that well he would not sée The burdened Asse doth know his crib by course The yoked Oxe doth smell his strawie stall The ridden horse the maunger giues remorse But my poore hart no salue may heale at all Whome furious force aye threatneth fearce to fall What shall I say the time eche truth shall trie Till then I waile my woe with wéeping eie Down déepe doth droope my dread most dolorous O hart dispatch to ende my hidden paine Shall good for harme be had in credite thus Eche honest minde with ratling rage to straine Then farewell ioy welcome my woes againe O what a woe is this in griefe to grone And waile the want where helpe I sée is none Being betweene two doubtes he taketh aduisement MY pen now plie thy pase thy maisters paines to paint For hart now set in doubtfull case begins to fall and faint Now wyt declare thy might now hands and learning shoe What best for me a wofull wight that wéepes and wayles in woe Much better tis to stay than clime and take no holde And rashly graunt by deadly lure vnto hir loue so colde For where two mindes are matchte and thone no loue will beare There is nought else but sorrowes hatcht Thy restlesse life to weare What vailes the glittring Golde when loue is forcde to flee And match with hir that others holde and nought regardeth thée And she thy eyes so blacks by wile of subtile kinde That though thou see hir craftie knacks yet will she make thée blinde Though thousands thou possest and harte doth holde in hate All shall decay by wretchednesse for yll will bréedeth bate But where as loue remaines and discord put to flight There springs the fount of ioyes and gaines and concord stands in might There is the Paradise and Pallace eke of peace Where things but small of simple prise to valoures great encrease But out alas I die a wretch in daungerous doubt I sée that death before mine eie hath siedgde me round about For hart that loues me best I cannot loue againe And she who causeth mine vnrest considereth not my paine Loe howe can I escape Alas what remedie The Gods haue sure sworne my mishap betwéene these golfes to die To bruse my baned bones betwixt these raging rocks In doubt of life I make my mones and beare the cruell strokes But hart thy selfe content to frie and fréese a while Though fickle fate be froward bent yet fortune once maye smile He sheweth his restlesse minde tormented for want of reliefe ALone who sailes the foming floodes in ship that wants a guide In stormie streames thundring showres in darke and trembling tide Doth feare the harmes of gaping golfes and renting rocks doth mone And wayles his most
to be with him to talke was all my chiefest foode Eche drop of liuely bloud that skipt in springing vaines Did leape for heape of passing sport of hart where ioy remaines Whome I haue thirsted oft in wishing hart full faine Now is he come but O alas he sone is gone againe And wilt thou now departe from me on sodaine thus Then may I say all ioy is vaine and worlde growes worse and worse And though that flowers in May doe chéere the laughing fieldes Yet winters stormes with pinching colde the woodes of leaues beguiles Thus chaunge of time and place doth chaunge a mans degree And richest man in greatest ioy may chaunce in woe to die So when the howre was come that hope returnes me fro In heauie moning wayling hart farewell I say in wo. Farewell my Damon déere now loth depart I sing And lingring steps against their will from thée my corps did bring And downe into my hart there dropt the drops of care And inwardly my sobs I soope that rake and rent me thare Now all my ioy is gone and I in dumps am cast O would to God thy swéete abode might harmelesse euer last If will were now in force to thée my flight should bée Where are the Muses nine that sing in heauenly harmonie But nowe we must depart faire wordes false friend men say Nor he that files his smoothed spéeche is faithfull friend alway The God deuine thée kéepe in firme felicitie And breake the bragges of curssed curres that iarre their teeth at thée That so thy fatall thréede well spoon may stedfast stan To runne the race of Nestors yéeres a golden aged man And farewell friend in déede farewell my towre of trust Would I might alwayes bide with thee farewell since néedes it must To his Frowarde Friend MEn say in common tales into a Prouerb gone More better tis a badde excuse at all then to haue none And was I in the blame you knewe well what I ment And though I winkt in colourde sort you knewe my whole intent If great your grace had bene you might perceyue well this For little signes are knowne full well where great affection is And eke of péering sparke doth growe a flashing flame Loe now I see you will not know though well you knewe the same But of such womans mindes eche man a store may finde Which still in things that pleaseth not forsooth they will be blinde And where they fansie not the thing they haue in hande They say good Sir be packing hence I cannot vnderstande And since it is your wont as plaine I doe perceaue I pray you giue me licence nowe to take my humble leaue For I must néedes be dead but not before to morow My death requires no ernest hast I néede not greatly sorow But yet I lie in care I cannot sléepe for loue No more then he that sleepes all night and neuer once doth moue What shall I doe poore soule alack how I doe mone When that my stomack well is fed my lust to meate is gone Beholde what care I take my teares doe flow as fast As Aprill showres doe fall in Iune when will my plaint be past Alas good simple peate of dull and féeble braine You know not well the woode for trées God wote ye are full plaine But easie truely tis your ignoraunce to show In things which by your froward will you neuer sought to know Farewell my friendly foe as plaine God wote ye bée So pray I once that you may haue your two eies well to sée And well to vnderstande of me your true loue lost If blinde ye bée smell yet before take héede beware the post I doubt not but in space you shall your sight obtaine When as perchaunce you may desire your true loue olde againe The opinion he hath of his Friend absent THy right discent from worthie auncetrie Hath iustly gote a praise by their good factes Of all as well the high as low degrée Much more yet gote thou hast by thy owne actes As well thy workes thy will thy wyt doe teach Still séeking that which passeth not thy reach Lyke lyfe thou leads that poore for thée doe pray Upon their knees thy gentle race to fende Their néedie sutes with helping hande to stay The thing which thou doest prudently pretend Race rightly rulde of brest in iustice bolde Eche vertue séekes hir harbour here to holde Loe what mishap hath maymed me so sore Like one of thine that there I may not dwell Estéeme me not the lesse of Dunster store Since hart is there where care doth corps expell Quaint fortune frownes on me so egerlie Unnatiue soyle that best I may not be Except my minde I doe not thée forget Although farre thence false fortune doth me set Runne rightly foorth as right thou hast begoon Then trump shall sound y u hast the conquest woon Fraunces Flower in the commendation of the Authour THe Schooles of skill maintayned are by yonglings hote desier And 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 all decrepide playnth his Muses simple hier For Nature now is girte to giue the price of mickle praise To such a wight so worthie welth to passe his foundrisse daies O happie hande to frame the moulde in eche consenting parte That dare when Muse most perfite is compare it selfe with arte Pallas ycleped learnings Quéene if Mars in armour were The fierce attempt of Natures will may well and well forbeare For she alone can worke hir will as Ladie of hir list But féeble is the force of arte where Nature doth resist No light but of the heauen no furie but of hell No vertue if Minerua fayle as science oft doth tell Then muse no whit to sée a gift ygraft in this my friende Whose pleasant verse by natures skill to thée doth pleasures lende The plunging minde in deepe desires may here in arbor rare Bereaue vnrest with pleasures rife and rid his soule from care As Pamphlets for repast present good will of writers parte So Poems proue and Poesies praise a well good wylling hart How due desart by iust desire reward may truely craue The readers may consenting gree if Howell prayses haue FINIS F. Flowar