the more How much the wished conquest at the first Fell happily vnto the towne of Thebes But wise men ought with patience to sustaine The sundrie haps that slipperie fortune frames Nuncius commeth in by the gates Electrae Nun. Alas who can direct my hastie steppes Vnto the brother of our wofull Quéene But loe where carefully he standeth here Cre. If so the minde may dread his owne mishap Then dread I much this man that séekes me thus Hath brought the death of my beloued sonne Nun. My Lorde the thing you feare is very true Your sonne Meneceus no longer liues Cre. Alas who can withstand the heauenly powers Well it beséemes not me ne yet my yeares In bootelesse plaint to wast my wailefull teares Do thou recount to me his lucklesse deathe The order forme and manner of the same Nun. Your sonne my Lorde came to Eteocles And tolde him this in presence of the rest Renoumed King neither your victorie Ne yet the safetie of this princely Realme In armour doth consist but in the death Of me of me O most victorious King So heauenly dome of mightie Ioue commaunds I knowing what auayle my death should yéeld Vnto your grace and vnto natiue land Might well be déemde a most vngratefull sonne Vnto this worthy towne if I would shunne The sharpest death to do my countrie good In mourning wéede now let the vestall Nimphes With fainyng tunes commend my faultlesse ghost To highest heauens while I despoyle my selfe That afterwarde sith Ioue will haue it so To saue your liues I may receyue my death Of you I craue O curteous Citizens To shrine my corps in tombe of marble stone Whereon graue this Meneceus here doth lie For countries cause that was content to die This saide alas he made no more a doe But drewe his sword and sheathde it in his brest Cre. No more I haue inough returne ye nowe From whence ye came Nuncius returneth by the gates Electrae Well since the bloud of my beloued sonne Must serue to slake the wrath of angrie Ioue And since his onely death must bring to Thebes A quiet ende of hir vnquiet state Me thinkes good reason would that I henceforth Of Thebane soyle should beare the kingly swaye Yea sure and so I will ere it belong Either by right or else by force of armes Of al mishap loe here the wicked broode My sister first espoused hath hir sonne That slewe his fire of whose accursed séede Two brethren sprang whose raging hatefull hearts By force of boyling yre are bolne so sore As each do thyrst to sucke the others bloude But why do I sustaine the smart hereof Why should my bloud be spilt for others gilte Oh welcome were that messenger to me That brought me word of both my nephewes deathes Then should it soone be sene in euery eye Twixt prince and prince what difference would appeare Then should experience shewe what griefe it is To serue the humours of vnbridled youth Now will I goe for to prepare with spéede The funerals of my yong giltlesse sonne The which perhaps may be accompanyed With th' obsequies of proude Eteocles Creon goeth out by the gates Homoloydes Finis Actus 4. Actus 4. CHORVS O Blisful concord bredde in sacred brest Of him that guides the restlesse rolling sky That to the earth for mans assured rest From heigth of heauens vouchsafest downe to flie In thée alone the mightie power doth lie With swete accorde to kepe the frouning starres And euery planet else from hurtfull warres In thée in thée such noble vertue bydes As may commaund the mightiest Gods to bend From thée alone such sugred frendship slydes As mortall wightes can scarcely comprehend To greatest strife thou setst delightfull ende O holy peace by thée are onely founde The passing ioyes that euery where abound Thou onely thou through thy celestiall might Didst first of al the heauenly pole deuide From th' olde confused heape that Chaos hight Thou madste the Sunne the Moone and starres to glide With ordred course about this world so wide Thou hast ordainde Dan Tytans shining light By dawne of day to chase the darkesome night When tract of time returnes the lustie Ver. By thée alone the buddes and blossomes spring The fieldes with floures be garnisht euery where The blooming trées aboundant fruite do bring The cherefull birds melodiously do sing Thou dost appoint the crop of sommers séede For mans reliefe to serue the winters néede Thou doest inspire the heartes of princely péeres By prouidence procéeding from aboue In flowring youth to choose their worthie féeres With whome they liue in league of lasting loue Till fearefull death doth flitting life remoue And loke how fast to death man payes his due So fast againe doste thou his stocke renue By thée the basest thing aduaunced is Thou euerie where dost graffe such golden peace As filleth man with more than earthly blisse The earth by thée doth yelde hir swete increase At becke of thée all bloudy discords cease And mightiest Realmes in quiet do remaine Wheras thy hand doth holde the royall raine But if thou faile then al things gone to wracke The mother then doth dread hir naturall childe Then euery towne is subiect to the sacke Then spotlesse maids the virgins be defilde Then rigor rules then reason is exilde And this thou wofull Thebes to our great paine With present spoile art likely to sustaine Me thinke I heare the wailfull wéeping cries Of wretched dames in euerie coast resound Me thinkes I sée how vp to heauenly skies From battred walls the thundring clappes rebound Me thinke I heare how all things go to ground Me thinke I sée how souldiers wounded lye With gasping breath and yet they can not dye By meanes wherof oh swete Meneceus he That giues for countries cause his guiltlesse life Of others all most happy shall he be His ghost shall flit from broiles of bloudy strife To heauenly blisse where pleasing ioyes be rife And would to God that this his fatall ende From further plagues our citie might defend O sacred God giue eare vnto thy thrall That humbly here vpon thy name doth call O let not now our faultlesse bloud be spilt For hote reuenge of any others gilt Finis Actus quarti Done by F. Kinwelmarshe The order of the laste dumbe shevve FIrst the Stillpipes sounded a very mournful melody in which time came vpon the Stage a womā clothed in a white garment on hir head a piller double faced the formost face fair smiling the other behinde blacke louring muffled with a white laune about hir eyes hir lap ful of Iewelles sitting in a charyot hir legges naked hir fete set vpō a great roūd bal beyng drawē in by .iiij. noble personages she led in a string on hir right hand .ij. kings crowned and in hir lefte hand .ij. poore slaues very meanly attyred After she was drawen about the stage she stayed a little changing the kings vnto the left hande the slaues
stande on Shooters hill Till rents come in to please their wicked will. Some fansies hopes by lies to come on floate As for to tell their frends and kinne great tales What wealth they lost in coyne and many a coate What powder packt in coffers and in males What they must pay and what their charge will be Wherin they meane to saue themselues a fee. Some fansies eke forecast what life to wéelde When libertie shall graunted be at last And in the aire such castles gan they builde That many times they fall againe as fast For Fansie hinders Grace from glories crowne As Tares and Byndes can plucke good graine adowne Who list therfore by Fetters frute to haue Take Fansie first out of his priuy thought And when thou hast him cast him in the waue Of Lethes lake for sure his séede is nought The gréene Knight he of whome I late did tell Mine Author sayth badde Fansie thus farewell The greene Knights farewell to Fansie FAnsie quoth he farewell whose badge I long did beare And in my hat full harebrayndly thy flowers did I weare To late I finde at last thy frutes are nothing worth Thy blossomes fall fade full fast though brauerie bring thē forth By thée I hoapt alwayes in déepe delights to dwel But since I finde thy ficklenesse Fansie quoth he farewell Thou madste me liue in loue which wisedome biddes me hate Thou bleardst mine eies madste me thinke that faith was mine by fate By thée those bitter swéetes did please my taste alway By thee I thought that loue was light and payne was but a play I thought that Bewties blase was méete to beare the bell And since I finde my selfe deceyued Fansie quoth he farewell The glosse of gorgeous courtes by thée did please mine eye A stately fight me thought it was to sée the braue go by To sée their feathers flaunte to marke their straunge deuise To lie along in Ladies lappes to lispe and make it nice To fawne and flatter both I liked sometimes well But since I see how vayne it is Fansie quoth he farewell When court had cast me off I toyled at the plowe My fansie stoode in straunge conceipts to thriue I wote not how By mils by making malte by shéepe and eke by swyne By ducke and drake by pigge and goose by calues kéeping kine By féeding bullockes fat when pryce at markets fell But since my swaines eat vp my gaines Fansie quoth he farewell In hunting of the deare my fansie tooke delight All forests knew my folly still the mooneshine was my light In frosts I felt no cold a sunneburnt hew was best I sweate and was in temper still my watching séemed rest What daungers déepe I past it follie were to tell And since I sigh to thinke thereon Fansie quoth he farewell A fansie fedde me ones to wryte in verse and rime To wray my griefe to craue reward to couer still my crime To frame a long discourse on sturring of a strawe To rumble rime in raffe and ruffe yet all not worth an hawe To heare it sayde there goeth the Man that writes so well But since I sée what Poetes bée Fansie quoth he farewell At Musickes sacred sounde my fansies eft begonne In concordes discordes notes and cliffes in tunes of vnisonne In Hyerarchies and straynes in restes in rule and space In monacordes and mouing moodes in Burdens vnder base In descants and in chants I streined many a yel But since Musicians be so madde Fansie quoth he farewell To plant straunge countrie fruites to sow such séedes likewise To digge delue for new foūd rootes where old might wel suffise To proyne the water bowes to picke the mossie trées Oh how it pleasd my fansie ones to knéele vpon my knées To griffe a pippine stocke when sappe begins to swell But since the gaynes scarce quite the cost Fansie quoth he farewell Fansie quoth he farewell which made me follow drommes Where powdred bullets serues for sauce to euery dish that cōmes Where treason lurkes in trust where Hope all hartes beguiles Where mischief lieth still in wayte when fortune friendly smiles Where one dayes prison prones that all such heauens are hell And such I féele the frutes thereof Fansie quoth he farewell If reason rule my thoughts and God vouchsafe me grace Then comfort of Philosophie shall make me chaunge my race And fonde I shall it finde that Fansie settes to showe For weakely stāds that building still which lacketh grace by low But since I must accept my fortunes as they fell I say God send me better spéede and Fansie now farewell Epilogismus SEe swéete deceipt that can it self beguile Behold selfe loue which walketh in a net And séemes vnséene yet shewes it selfe therewhile Before such eyes as are in science set The Gréene knight here leaues out his firelocke péece That Fancie hath not yet his last farewell When Foxes preach good folke beware your géese But holla here my muse to farre doth mell Who list to marke what learned preacher sayeth Must learne withall for to beleeue his lore But what he doth that toucheth nomans fayth Though words with workes agréed persuade the more The mounting kite oft lights on homely pray And wisest wittes may sometimes go astray FINIS Tam Marti quà m Mercurio The pleasant Fable of Ferdinando Ieronomi and Leonora de Valasco translated out of the Italian riding tales of Bartello IN the pleasant Countrie of Lombardie and not farre from the Citie of Florence there was dwelling sometimes a Lorde of many riche Seignories and dominions who neuerthelesse bare his name of the Castle of Valasco this Lord had one only sonne and two daughters his sonne was called during the life of his father the heyre of Valasco who maried a faire Gentlewoman of the house of Bellauista named Leonora the elder daughter of the Lord of Valasco was called Francischina a yong woman very toward bothe in capacitie and other actiue qualities Nowe the Lord of Valasco hauing already maried his sonne heyre and himselfe drawing in age was desirous to sée his daughters also bestowed before his death and especially the eldest who both for beutie and ripenesse of age might often put him in remembrance that shée was a collop of his owne fleshe and therefore sought meanes to draw vnto his house Ferdinando Ieronimi a yong gentleman of Venice who delighting more in hawking hunting and such other pastimes than he did in studie had left his owne house in Venice and was come into Lombardie to take the pleasures of the countrie So that the Lorde of Valasco knowing him to be of a very good parentage and therewithall not onely riche but adorned with sundrie good qualities was desirous as is sayd to drawe him home to his house vnder pretence of hunting and hawking to the end he might beholde his fayre daughter Francischina who both for parentage and other worldly respects might no lesse content his minde than hir beautie was likely to
liue and such a life leade I. The Sunny dayes which gladde the saddest wightes Yet neuer shine to cleare my misty moone No quiet sléepe amidde the mooneshine nightes Can close mine eyes when I am woe begone Into such shades my péeuishe sorrowe shrowdes That Sunne and Moone are styll to me in clowdes And feuerlike I féede my fancie styll With such repast as most empaires my health Which feuer first I caught by wanton wyll When coles of kind dyd stirre my blood by stealth And gazing eyes in bewtie put such trust That loue enflamd my liuer al with lust My fits are lyke the feuer Ectick fits Which one daye quakes within and burnes without The next day heate within the boosoms sits And shiuiring colde the body goes about So is my heart most hote when hope is colde And quaketh most when I most heate behold Tormented thus without delayes I stand All wayes in one and euermore shal be In greatest griefe when helpe is nearest hand And best at ease if death might make me frée Delighting most in that which hurtes my heart And hating change which might relieue my smart Yet you deare dame to whome this cure pertaines Deuise by times some drammes for my disease A noble name shall be your greatest gaines Whereof be sure if you wyll worke mine ease And though fond fooles set forth their fittes as fast Yet graunt with me that my straunge passion past Euer or neuer ¶ A straunge passion of a Louer AMid my Bale I hath in blisse I swim in heauen I sinke in hell I find amends for euery misse And yet my moane no tongue can tell I liue and loue what wold you more As neuer louer liu'd before I laugh sometimes with little lust So iest I oft and féele no ioye Myne ease is builded all on trust And yit mistrust bréedes myne anoye I liue and lacke I lacke and haue I haue and misse the thing I craue These things séeme strange yet are they trew Beléeue me sweete my state is such One pleasure which I wold eschew Both slakes my grief and breedes my grutch So doth one paine which I would shoon Renew my ioyes where grief begoon Then like the larke that past the night In heauy sleepe with cares opprest Yit when shee spies the pleasaunt light She sends sweete notes from out hir brest So sing I now because I thinke How ioyes approch when sorrowes shrinke And as fayre Philomene againe Can watch and singe when other sleepe And taketh pleasure in hir payne To wray the woo that makes hir weepe So sing I now for to bewray The lothsome life I lead alway The which to thée deare wenche I write That know'st my mirth but not my moane I praye God graunt thée déepe delight To liue in ioyes when I am gone I cannot liue it wyll not bée I dye to thinke to part from thée Ferendo Natura ¶ The Diuorce of a Louer DIuorce me nowe good death from loue and lingring life That one hath bene my concubine that other was my wife In youth I liued with loue she had my lustye dayes In age I thought with lingering life to stay my wādering wais But now abusde by both I come for to complaine To thée good death in whom my helpe doth wholy now remain My libell loe behold wherein I doe protest The processe of my plaint is true in which my griefe doth rest First loue my concubine whome I haue kept so trimme Euen she for whome I séemd of yore in seas of ioy to swimme To whome I dare auowe that I haue serued as well And played my part as gallantly as he that heares the hell She cast me of long since and holdes me in disdaine I cannot pranke to please hir nowe my vaunting is but vaine My writhled chéekes bewraye that pride of heate is past My stagring steppes eke tell the trueth that nature fadeth fast My quaking crooked ioyntes are combred with the crampe The boxe of oyle is wasted wel which once dyd féede my lampe The gréenesse of my yeares doth wyther now so sore That lusty loue leapes quite awaye and lyketh me no more And loue my lemman gone what lyking can I take In lothsome lyfe that croked croane although she be my make Shée cloyes me with the cough hir comfort is but cold She bids me giue mine age for almes wher first my youth was sold No day can passe my head but she beginnes to brall No mery thoughts conceiued so fast but she confounds them al. When I pretend to please she ouerthwarts me still When I would faynest part with hir she ouerwayes my will. Be iudge then gentle death and take my cause in hand Consider euery circumstaunce marke how the case doth stand Percase thou wilte aledge that cause thou canst none sée But that I like not of that one that other likes not me Yea gentle iudge giue eare and thou shalt see me proue My concubine incontinent a common whore is loue And in my wyfe I find such discord and debate As no man liuing can endure the tormentes of my state Wherefore thy sentence say deuorce me from them both Since only thou mayst right my wronges good death nowe he not loath But cast thy pearcing dart into my panting brest That I may leaue both loue and life thereby purchase rest Haud ictus sapio ¶ The Lullabie of a Louer SIng lullaby as women doe Wherewith they bring their babes to rest And lullaby can I sing to As womanly as can the best With lullaby they still the childe And if I be not much beguild Full many wanton babes haue I Which must be stild with lullabie First lullaby my youthfull yeares It is nowe time to go to bed For croocked age and hoary heares Haue wone the hauen with in my head With Lullaby then youth be still With Lullaby content thy will Since courage quayles and commes behind Go sleepe and so beguile thy minde Next Lullaby my gazing eyes Which wonted were to glaunce apace For euery Glasse maye nowe suffise To shewe the furrowes in my face With Lullabye then winke awhile With Lullabye your lookes beguile Lette no fayre face nor beautie brighte Entice you efte with vayne delighte And Lullaby my wanton will Lette reasons rule nowe reigne thy thought Since all to late I finde by skyll Howe deare I haue thy fansies bought With Lullaby nowe tak thyne ease With Lullaby thy doubtes appease For trust to this if thou be styll My body shall obey thy will. Eke Lullaby my louing boye My little Robyn take thy rest Since age is colde and nothing coye Keepe close thy coyne for so is best With Lullady be thou content With Lullaby thy lustes relente Lette others pay which hath mo pence Thou art to pore for such expence Thus Lullabye my youth myne eyes My will my ware and all that was I can no mo delayes deuise But welcome payne let pleasure passe With Lullaby now take your leaue
put me from my wonted place And déepe deceipte hath wrought a wyle to wrest me out of grace Wyll home againe to cart as fitter were for mée Then thus in court to serue and starue where such proude porters bée Si fortunatus infoelix ¶ This question being propounded by a Dame vnto the Aucthour to witte why he should write Spreta tamen viuunt he aunswereth thus DEspysed things may liue although they pine in payne And things ofte trodden vnder foote may once yet rise againe The stone that lieth full lowe may clime at last full hye And stand a loft on stately towr's in sight of euery eye The cruell Axe which felles the trée that grew full straight Is worne with rust when it renewes and springeth vp on height The rootes of rotten Réedes in swelling seas are seene And when eche tide hath tost his worst they grow againe ful gréene Thus much to please my selfe vnpleasauntly I sing And shrich to ease my morning minde in spite of enuies sting I am nowe set full light who earst was dearely lou'd Som new foūd choise is more estemd than that which wel was prou'd Some Diomede is crept into Dame Cressides hart And trustie Troylus nowe is taught in vaine to playne his part What resteth then for me but thus to wade in wo And hang in hope of better chaunce when chaunge appointeth so I sée no sight on earth but it to Chaunge enclines As litle clowdes oft ouercast the brightest Sunne that shines No Flower is so freshe but frost can it deface No man so sure in any seate but he maye léese his place So that I stand content though much against my mind To take in worth this lothsome lot which luck to me assynd And trust to sée the time when they that nowe are vp May féele the whirle of fortunes whéele and tast of sorrowes cup. God knoweth I wishe it not it had bene bet for mée Styll to haue kept my quiet chayre in hap of high degrée But since without recure Dame Chaunge in loue must raigne I now wish chaunge that sought no chaūge but constāt did remaine And if suche chaunge do chaunce I vowe to clap my hands And laugh at them which laught at me lo thus my fansie standes Spreta tamen viuunt ¶ In trust is Treason written by a Louer leaning onelye to his Ladies promises and finding them to fayle THe straightest Trée that growes vpon one onely roote If that roote fayle wyll quickly fade no props can do it boote I am that fading plant which on thy grace dyd growe Thy grace is gone wherefore I mone and wither all in woe The tallest ship that sailes if shée too Ancors trust When Ancors slip Cables breake her helpe lyes in the dust I am the ship my selfe mine Ancor was thy faith Which now is fled thy promise broke I am driuen to death Who climeth oft on hie and trusts the rotten bowe If that bow breake may catch a fall such state stand I in now Me thought I was a loft and yet my seate full sure Thy heart dyd séeme to me a rock which euer might endure And sée it was but sand whome seas of subtiltie Haue soked so with wanton waues that faith was forst to flye The flooddes of ficklenesse haue vndermined so The first foundation of my ioy that myrth is ebb'd to wo. Yet at lowe water markes I lye and wayte my time To mend the breach but all in vaine it cannot passe the prime For when the prime flood comes which all this rage begoon Then waues of wyll do worke so fast my piles are ouer roon Dutie and dilligence which are my workmen there Are glad to take vp fooles in haste and run away for feare For fansie hath such force it ouerfloweth all And whispring tales do blow the blasts that make it ryse fall Thus in these tempests tost my restles life doth stand Because I builded on thy wodres as I was borne in hand Thou weart that only stake wereby I ment to stay Alas alas thou stoodst so weake the hedge is borne away By thee I thought to liue by thee now must Idye I made thee my Phisicion thou art my mallady For thee I longde to liue for thée nowe welcome death And welcome be that happie pang that stops my gasping breath Twise happie were that axe would cut my rotes downe right And sacred were that swelling sea which would consume me quight Blest were that bowe would breake to bring downe climing youth Which craks aloft and quakes full oft for feare of thine vntruth Ferenda Natura The constancie of a louer hath thus sometimes bene briefly declared THat selfe same tonge which first did thée entreat To linke thy liking with my lucky loue That trustie tonge must nowe these wordes repeate I loue thee still my fancie cannot moue That dreadlesse hart which durst attempt the thought To win thy will with mine for to consent Maintaines that vow which loue in me first wrought I loue thee still and neuer shall repent That happie hande which hardely did touch Thy tender body to my déepe delight Shall serue with sword to proue my passion such As loues thee still much more than it can write Thus loue I still with tongue hand hart and all And when I chaunge let vengeance on me fall Ferenda Natura ¶ The fruite of foes written to a Gentlewoman who blamed him for writing his friendly aduise in verse vnto another louer of hyrs THe cruell hate which boyles within thy burning brest And séekes to shape a sharpe reuenge on them that loue thée best May warne all faithfull friendes in case of ieopardie Howe they shall put their harmelesse hands betwéene the barck trée And I among the rest which wrote this weary song Must nedes alledge in my defence that thou hast done me wrong For if in simple verse I chaunc'd to touch thy name And toucht the same without reproch was I therefore to blame And if of great good will I gaue my best aduise Then thus to blame without cause why me thinkes thou art not wise Amongst olde written tales this one I beare in mind A simple soule much like my selfe dyd once a serpent find Which almost dead for colde lay moyling in the myre When he for pittie tooke it vp and brought it to the fyre No sooner was the Snake recured of hir griefe But straight shée sought to hurt the man that lent hir such reliefe Such Serpent séemest thou such simple soule am I That for the weight of my good wil am blam'd without cause why But as it best beseemes the harmelesse gentle hart Rather to take an open wrong than for to plaine his part I must and will endure thy spite without repent The blame is mine the triumph thine and I am well content Meritum petere graue A Louer often warned and once againe drouen into fantasticall flames by the chase of company doth thus bewayle his misfortunes I That
written to the right honourable the Lorde Grey of Wilton A Straunge conceyte a vayne of newe delight Twixt weale and woe twixte ioy and bitter griefe Hath pricked foorth my hastie penne to write This woorthlesse verse in hazarde of repréefe And to mine Alderlieuest Lorde I must endite A wofull case a chippe of sorie chaunce A tipe of heauen a liuely hew of hell A feare to fall a hope of high aduance A life a death a drearie tale to tell But since I know the pith of my pastaunce Shall most consist in telling of a truth Vouchsafe my Lord en bon gré for to take This trustie tale the storie of my youth This Chronicle which of my selfe I make To shew my Lord what healplesse happe ensewth When heddy youth will gad without a guide And raunge vntide in leas of libertie Or when bare néede a starting hole hath spide To péepe abroade from mother Miserie And buildeth Castels in the Welkin wide In hope thereby to dwell with wealth and ease But he the Lord whome my good Lord doth know Can bind or lose as best to him shall please Can saue or spill rayse vp or ouerthrowe Can gauld with griefe and yet the payne appease Which thing to proue if so my L. take time When greater cares his head shall not possesse To sitte and reade this raunging ragged rime I doubt not then but that he will confesse What falles I found when last I leapt to clime In March it was that cannot I forget In this last March vpon the nintenth day When from Grauesend in boate I gan to iette To boorde our shippe in Quinborough that lay From whence the very twentith day we set Our sayles abrode to slice the Salt sea fome And ancors weyde gan trust the trustlesse floud That day and night amid the waues we rome To seeke the coast of Holland where it stoode And on the next when we were farre from home And neare the hauen whereto we sought to sayle A fearly chaunce whereon alone to thinke My hande now quakes and all my senses fayle Gan vs befall the Pylot gan to shrinke And all agaste his courage séemde to quayle Whereat amazed the Maister and his mate Gan aske the cause of his so sodeyne chaunge And from alofte the Stewarde of our state The sounding plumbe in haste poste hast must raunge To trye the depth and goodnesse of our gate Mée thinkes euen yet I heare his heauie voyce Fadome thrée foure foote more foote lesse that cride Mée thinkes I heare the fearefull whispring noyse Of such as sayde full softely me beside God graunte this iourney cause vs to reioyce When I poore soule which close in caban laye And there had reacht till gaule was welneare burst With giddie head my stumbling steppes must stay To looke abroade as boldly as I durst And whyles I hearken what the Saylers saye The sownder sings fadame two full no more Aloofe aloofe then cried the Maister out The Stearesmate striues to sende vs from the shore And trustes the streame whereof wée earst had doubt Twéene two extréeme thus were we tossed sore And went to Hull vntill we leyzure had To talke at large and eke to know the cause What moode had made our Pylot looke so sad At last the Dutche with butterbitten iawes For so he was a Dutche a Deuill a swadde A foole a drunkarde or a traytour tone Gan aunswere thus Ghy zijt te vroegh here come Tuniet goet tijt and standing all alone Gan preache to vs which fooles were all and some To trust him foole in whom there skill was none Or what knew wee if Albaes subtill brayne So to preuent our enterpryse by treazon Had him subornde to tice vs to this trayne And so him selfe per Companye and seazon For spite for hate or else for hope of gayne This must we thinke that Alba would not spare To giue out gold for such a sinfull déede And glistring gold can oftentimes ensnare More perfect wits than Holland soyle doth bréede But let that passe and let vs now compare Our owne fond fact with this his foule offence We knew him not nor where he wond that time Nor if he had Pylots experience Or Pylats crafte to cleare him selfe from crime Yea more than that how voyde were we of sense We had small smacke of any tale he tolde He powrde out Dutch to drowne vs all in drinke And we wise men vppon his words were bolde To runne on head but let me now bethinke The masters spéech and let me so vnfold The depth of all this foolish ouersight The master spake euen like a skilfull man And sayde I sayle the Seas both day and night I know the tides as well as other can From pole to pole I can the courses plight I know France Spaine Gréece Denmarke Dasisk all Frize Flaunders Holland euery coast I know But truth to tell it seldome doth befall That English merchants euer bend their bowe To shoote at Breyll where now our flight should fall They send their shafts farder for greater gayne So that this hauen is yet quoth he vnkouth And God graunt now that England may attayne Such gaines by Breyll a gospell on that mouth As is desired thus spake the master playne And since saide he my selfe knew not the sowne How could I well a better Pylot fynde Than this which first did saye he dwelt in towne And knew the way where euer sat the wynde While we thus talke all sayles are taken downe And we to Hull as earst I sayd gan wend Till full two houres and somewhat more were past Our guyde then spake in Dutch and bad vs bend All sayles againe for now quod he at last Die tijt is goet dat heb ick weell bekend Why staye I long to ende a wofull tale We trust his Dutch and vp the foresayle goes We fall on knées amyd the happy gale Which by Gods will full kynd and calmely blowes And vnto him we there vnfolde our bale Whereon to thinke I wryte and wéepe for ioye That pleasant song the hundreth and seuenth Psalme There dyd we reade to comfort our annoye Which to my soule me thought was swéete as balme Yea farre more swéete than any worldly ioye And when he had with prayers praysd the Lord Our Edell Bloetts gan fall to eate and drinke And for their sauce at takyng vp the borde The shippe so strake as all we thought to sinke Against the ground Then all with one accorde We fell againe on knées to pray apace And therewithall euen at the second blowe The number cannot from my minde outpace Our helme strake of and we must fléete and flowe Where winde and waues would guide vs by their grace The winde waxt calme as I haue sayde before O mightie God so didst thou swage our woes The selly shippe was sowst and smitten sore With counter buffetts blowes and double blowes At last the kéele