sure ere it be night But if thou dost without delay the thing Knowne to the world in Claudius eares will ring VVhen this disgracethrough each mans mouth hath past Alas good man Claudius shall know it last Meane while doe thou thy Messaline obey And sport and reuell with her night and day For tie all one now thou hast done the wrong Claudius of force must heare of it ere long And then wer 't thou farre fairer then thou art Of his displeasure thou must feele the smart Thy milke white necke must stoope vnto the block And yeeld it selfe vnto the fatall stroke Thus may we see those things which meÌ„ think good Are nothing so if rightly vnderstood VVhat then shall therefore men for nothing craue Soft if thou seeke and wouldst my counsell haue Doc thus seeke to those heauenly powers aboue Leaue all to them for sure they doe vs loue Let God see first what doth agree with vs VVhat shall be fit and most commodious God doth not giue according to our wit For pleasant things he giues vs what most fit Deerer is man to him then man can be Vnto himselfe yet blind and wretched we Carried away by force of our owne mind Mighty is lust sense brutish reason blind A wooing do we goe but in such sort As if we went vnto our brothel sport Red hot with lust ranker then any Goat Or any ship that still in salt doth float VVith glaring eies we stare vpoÌ„ our loues And looke them through and through while lust vs moues VVhy should we not we hope it is no sinne But loue yea yea le ts aske our hearts within At night our thought our nose doth hunt by day VVe talke and talke and yet we nothing say A mischiese on this lust but most of all On lust which honestie it selfe doth call This thought doth gull vs so we thinke all 's well Find fault who will all 's one here will we dwell This vgly thought makes blushes impudent And honest houres in lustfulnesse be spent It makes ranke garlikes stinking hoarie head Grow greene againe and liue though almost dead O that I did that mould and garden keepe VVhere this foule garlike lusts to lodge and sleepe How would I teare it vp How would I rend It's blade ere it my garden should offend It should not with his breath my nose disease It should not with its sight mine eies displease I should soone bring its sprouting blade fullow And send it to some other place to grow Away ranke stinke away get thee to those Like to thy selfe but grow not necre the Rose A mischiefe On 't can any thinke it fit That Garlike in a Roses lap should sit Garlike must needes o'recome and kill the Rose Prickles cannot defend it from such foes If wedded true loue twixt these euer be Let sweete and sowre old age and youth agree But all in vaine this clouen Garlike head Madded with lust cannot be answered There let it grow then if it needes must be Yet pretie Rose still shall I pity thee For thou must needes be quickly withered And woe is me anon thou wilt be dead Then all too late thou wilt repent the houre Thou hadst not ioyn'd thee to some sweeter flower Then shalt thou see for all thy subtill wit That all that is desired is not fit VVomen doe husbands men doe wiues desire And such and such they earnestly require And when they haue them straight without delay For sonnes and daughters they begin to pray God onely knowes meane time what câ—e we craue VVhat wife and children euery man shall haue VVedding and hanging go by destinie And what a man must haue he cannot flie But that thou maist aske something and obtaine it Vnto the Temple get thee ne're refraine it Looke on the entrailes of some beast and vow And search the puddings of some slaughterd sow Pray that within thy body sound and whole There may be lodged a sound and wholsome soule Pray for a mind that 's braue and valiant VVhom feare of death as yet could neuer daunt VVho mongst rich natures greatest benefits Accounts that time when life and world he quits Knowing that while he liues he still doth die But when he dies he liues immortally VVho in meane time come whatsoeuer will Or toile or labour he endures it still He knowes not how to chafe he couets nought His mind to basenesse neuer can be brought The toiles and trauels of great Horcules He doth preferre before dull stupid ease Or wantonnes or feasting or discourse Sardanapalus is a beast and worse But let me shew what thou thy selfe maist giue One way there is no more in peace to liue VVherein thou mai'st liue most contentedly And that is if thou shalt liue vertuously Fortune auaunt were men but onely wise Thou had'st not power on them to tyrannize And yet a Goddesse of thee we must make And giue thee leaue in heauen a place to take Thou art a Goddesse and in heauen we place thee But were men wise they out of heaueÌ„ would chace thee Laus Deo Matritae Sept. 5. 1612. stilo vet pictoribus atque poëtis Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas Veniam petimúsque damúsque vicissim W. B. FINIS
other tales of old Which lying Greece hath in her story told How Cyrus dig'd downe Athos how he came And with his Nauie ouerfaild the same How in the sea on ships a bridge he set O're which his armie and his troops might get And how the Persian souldiers passing by Haue at one dinner dranke whole riuers dry He which made land be sea and sea be land saith Sostratus who could his power withstand And yet this Cyrus with his flying fame What was he when from Salamine he came He which with whips was wont to scourge the wind To whom great Aeolus was farre more kind He which would lay vp Neptune fast in chaines Or bore him through the eare with gentler paines Can any thinke the Gods O monstrous blindnes Would any of them doe this foole a kindnesse How came he backe then onely with one boate Which mōgst his slaughtered mē in blood did float Thus glory ends and thus ends he which sought it Thus was it sold and thus he deerely bought it Great Iupiter saith one prolong my dayes Thus somtimes merrie somtimes sad he prayes Meane while the man that liueth to be old Sustaines more miserie then can be told Old age with many sorrowes is distrest And those vncessant that it cannot rest How fowle and ougly t' is to looke vpon Full of diseases and corruption O how vnlike a man it makes a man His soft white skinne it doth like lether tan It makes his cheekes hang flag wrinckles his brow Hollowes his eyes and makes his shoulders bow In Tabracena like an old Bitch-Ape Among the trees so doth he rub and scrape Mong young men many differences be He is more faire then this and this then he One is more swift another stronger is Each ioyeth in his proper qualities But old mens faces all doe looke as one His limmes doe tremble and his voyce doth mone He shakes his head and like an infant goes And coughes and driuels through his snotty nose He suppes his meat and softer bread he chawes Alas a crust would bruse his toothlesse iawes A knife he cares not for giue him a spoone Feede him with pap and milke and sleepe at noone Old man alas he is vnsauory Vnto himselfe his wife and progeny He which would be his heire cannot abide him Cossus he stops his nose and doth deride him The rellish of his meate and drinke is past For now his palate is quite out of tast The pleasures he was wont in youth to find Are now long since forgot and out of mind He can doe nothing now as heretofore Those daies be gone he can doe so no more His bodie 's chill his lusty blood is cold Alas put cloathes vpon him now he 's old If he pleas'd others in his youthfull time They shall doe well if now they cherish him They must not looke for former pleasures still VVithout performance what auailes the will But now behold another losse appeares The noise of musicke pleaseth not his eares No though Seleucus sing with all his skill Or all his consort with their trumpets shrill It skills not in the Theater where he sit Cornet or trumpet he heares neare a whit His boy which tells him who comes in and out And what 's the clocke must in his deafe eare shout The little life which in his pulse doth beate Is warmed onely by a feuers heate A swarme of old diseases crawle about him Aches and paines within him and without him Whose seuerall names if any man desire Sooner I might expresse did neede require The names of those which haue with Hippia laine How many patients Themison hath slaine How many young men Basilus hath spoild How many pupils Hirrus hath beguild How many men long Maura in one day Hath swallowed quick and brought them to decay I could in lesser time at large expresse How many Townes Licinius doth possesse Who now into the Senate house doth passe Who erst no better then a barber was One of his shoulders this of his loines complaines Anothers hips are weake and full of paines A fourth hath lost both eyes and doth enuie A very blinkes that hath but halfe an eie His pale wan lippes whilome so cherry red Must from anothers fingers now be fed Whose hungry appetite at times of meales Was wont to gape and ring the kitchin peales Like a young Swallow waiting for her dam He now sits gaping while they doe him cram But which is worst he turnes directly sot His friends and seruants names he hath forgot They which did sup with him but yester night Before next morning are forgotten quite Nay his own children flesh and bloud which came Out of his loines bred by him fie for shame These are vnknowne nay he is so misled That his owne heires are disinherited And Phiale that Witch that common Whore Gulles him and turnes his children out of doore And all the goods this doating foole ere got Must fall at length vnto this harlots lot A mischiefe on 't can it be prosperous When old age dotes and must be lecherous No no gainst nature this is done to spite her And fortune certainely at length will right her O i st not braue to see a foule ranke Goate Hunting traine-sent vpon a peticoate To see an old deformed crooked Ramme Raging with lust vpon a silly Lambe 'T is odious madnes natures selfe doth hate it And sense and reason doe abhominate it Yet sense and reason here can doe no good Nature disswades but is not vnderstood Hence she growes malecontent hanges the head And seemes to liue but she indeede is dead Nature and sense and reason hence are gone Madnesse and lust predominate alone When age and lust drie wood and fire do meet How can the flame be quencht when did you see 't Thus to liue long and then to be a foole Grant it O Iupiter to him that woole But say that sense and wit remaine intire And age and wisedome happily conspire When strength and outward beauties are declin'd Yet vertue still suruiueth in the mind Is not this length of daies to be desired As deepely wisht as worthily admired Yes certainely and yet this happy age Is but a scene vpon a tragicke stage While like a sad spectator he must see Life mixt with death and ioy with miserie He liues indeed to see his kinred die His brethren and his sisters destinie But this most makes him weary of his life Death lets him liue but killes his deerest wife This is the paine which longer life attendes Still to bewaile the fortune of its friends To see ones house perpetually to wast And to be spent and quite consum'd at last Onely himselfe now like a man forlorne Is left aliue their funerals to mourne Vnhappie he must sorrow all alone For all his friends alas are dead and gone King Nestor if that Homer hath not lied Did liue three hundred yeeres before he died Was he not happy which from yeere to yeere So long together could
his death deferre Counting his yeeres vpon his fingers ends And drinke new wine so oft among his friends But marke I pray a while and Nestor cries And doth exclaime against the destinies Of too long life How much did he complaine When deare Antilochus his sonne was slaine How did he hate to liue and wish to dy When as his sonne was burnt and he stood by Alas quoth he and then he turnes about And makes his mone to all the gazing rout What haue I done Why doe the Gods me wrong Against my will to let me liue so long Antilochus Antilochus my sonne Why doe I liue Alas what haue I done Antilochus and with that word amaine His teares burst out his griefes begin againe So oft his speech doth faile his words supprest With sighes and sobbes which cannot be exprest Onely he wrings his hands lifts vp his eyes And faine would speake but can speake nought but whies Why Why saith he O Why nay tell me Why Could he speake more hee 'd say Doe I not dy And thus old Peleus liued with griefe to see His sonne Achilles mournefull tragedy And thus Laerta liued to heare men say Her sonne Vlâ—sses ship was cast away Had Priam died before the siege of Troy He might haue met Assaracus with ioy With great solemnitie and festiuals His children had performed his funerals And Hector and his brethren had him borne Vnto his graue while all the people mourne Cassandra had gone weeping all before And then Polyxena with garments tore O had he died before that Paris went To build those ships which he for Helen sent Though this vntimely death might him displease Yet had he gone into his graue with peace Then had he died he should but once haue died In length of daies alas what good is spied But liuing longer woe is me therefore He liues to die ten thousand deaths and more He liues to see all spoil'd and ouerturned Asia with fire and sword consum'd and burned When like a souldier which with feare doth quake He layes aside his Crowne and Armes doth take He flies and on great Iupiter he calles And downe before his altars dead he falles Euen as an Oxe with age and toile quite done Vnder the yoke for wearinesse doth grone So aged Priam ouercharg'd with woe Fainted and fell and could no farther goe And Hecuba his wife which did suruiue Till she was turned into a dogge did liue I haste vnto our owne and will passe by The King of Pontus long-liu'd misery And Craesus too to whom wise Solon said That till the end none could be happy made Marius liu'd long and suffered banishment Cold irons durance and imprisonment And in Minturnaes marshes hid his head And at the losse of Carthage begd his bread This man O had he died when he had led In triumph those whom he had conquered When all his warlike pompe had now been ended Assoone as from his chariot he descended Nature in earth Rome neuer had possest A Citizen more fortunately blest Campania did for Pompeies fame prouide For with a Feuer there he should haue died Had not the peoples prayers then preseru'd him And for a worser after death reseru'd him Wâ—th Ciuill warre he did the Citie waste Which from his body smote his head at last Which punishment and death yet Lentulus Escap't and Catiline and Cethegus They were not cut or cast into the fire But being dead their bodies were intire For they were hang'd forsooth their throates were broke And nothing but a halter did them choke Next now the tender mother on her knees When she but Venus Temple onely sees Softly she prayes for beauty for her sonne But for her daughter she will ne're haue done They both forsooth must beare away the prize And be admired and wooed by each mans eyes Why should they not Did not faire Venus ioy To see Dan Cupid and to busse the boy Did not Latona smile and laugh to see How beautifull Diana seemed to bee Yet though this beauty make the mother glad So faire a face as once Lucretia had She doubts to wish she was too faire alas Her ruine and her death her beauty was Her beauty 't was which Tarquin did admire Her beauty 't was which set his heart on fire Her beauty 't was which brought him to her bed Where for her beautie she was rauished Which when she knew she so abhor'd the deed With her owne hands she made her own hart bleed Virginia was as faire as faire might be As faire as any Virgin Rome did see But Rutila a cromp-backt monster was And ill complexion'd and deform'd her face Then she a fouler no where could be found No beast so ougly liuing on the ground And yet how oft did faire Virginia Wish in her heart she were foule Rutila That she could faces change that she might be As Rutila and Rutila as she Oh if that this could euer haue been done And each could haue each others face put on Virginia might haue liu'd and neere been eyed Nor by her fathers hand at length haue died But this was her vnhappie beauties fate It was pursur'de with lust far worse then hate Graue Appius her beauty gins to note And in the end must needs vpon her dote Who would beleeue it Appius is a man That 's wise and stay'd who also wisely can From his experience younger men aduise Who sayes that Appius loues Virginia lies For is not Appius old Virginia young Sweet is Virginias breath but his like dung Shee 's soft hee 's hard and how can these agree He may her father she his daughter be This Appius knowes and this so kils his heart That to himselfe scant dares he this impart From others therefore he his thought doth hide He would not for a world it were descride And yet for all it is so closely pent His heart must breake or he must giue it vent Maugre his head this makes him sadly mone And with deiected eyne walke all alone Where he doth meditate and mainely plot How for his lust Virginia may be got Mean while he sighs looks wild somtimes weeps Forsakes his meate and God knowes how he sleeps Tokens of loue he sends and pretty gifts And vseth twenty thousand other shifts He still pursues her wheresoere she goe Onely to talke and looke on her no moe But when he cannot come vnto her right Vnder her window then he walkes in sight When shee 's away how will he looke about What pretty trickes hee 'le vse to finde her out When being found nought hath he else to say But how doo'st pretty sweet Virginia Or tell some tale or else himselfe commend Somewhat aloofe for feare he might offend His loue he doubts she will not entertaine Which makes him be afeard of speaking plaine In a third person he his tale doth tell Lest she perhaps his ranker lust might smell With deerest words of loue he doth her flatter But dares not neerer come vnto the