Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	hell_n	life_n	soul_n	7,851	5	4.9047	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A18760	A pleasaunte laborinth called Churchyardes chance framed on fancies, vttered with verses, and writte[n] to giue solace to euery well disposed mynde: wherein notwithstanding are many heauie epitaphes, sad and sorowfull discourses and sutche a multitude of other honest pastymes for the season (and passages of witte) that the reader therein maie thinke his tyme well bestowed. All whiche workes for the pleasure of the worlde, and recreation of the worthie, are dedicated to the right honourable sir Thomas Bromley knight, lorde Chancelour of Englande.; Churchyardes chance	Churchyard, Thomas, 1520?-1604.	1580 (1580)	STC 5250; ESTC S105045	53,461	90

all a flant like Ship full vnder saile As swift to gather as the Ante and slowe to giue as Snaile The Ante in Sommer tyme prouides for Winters foode The Snaile as slowly doeth he clime so doeth he little good The one learnes man to saue the other slowly glides To bid men worke as tyme thei haue to walke watch their tides That lesson of the Snaill is slowlie lookte vnto So that this sillie creepyng soule full little good can doe And hourders vp of wealthe are in the selfsame plite Yet doeth the Ante for deepe foresight mans iudgement more delite But flantyng late came vp the gise is somewhat newe The Rainboes collours doeth it beare and yet it hath no hewe The glorie of the same tenne thousande stains will take And scarce the wisest men doe knowe of flantyng what to make He ●lants with others flowres she brau's in boroude weedes But neuer none could reape good fruite of sutche vain rotten séedes This flantyng squares it out and keeps a cruell coile But in the ende this newe founde toye doth bryng them all to spoile On braury it begonne with beggrie shall it ende This bowe is shapte of sutche a wood shall either breake or bende A flant a flant my boyes but flante to farre farewell Make mutche of worlde ye neither come in heauen nor in hell The saincts disdaine your pompe the Deuills feare your pride Then purchace Purgatorie nowe and there let flantyng bide So flounce and flant your fill good worlde should wearie waxe Of strange deuise that sturrs the state to strife through newe founde knacks Finis Of a fantasticall dreame taken out of Petrarke THe thyng I likte in slepe I founde a dreame vntrue What me mislikt was true I sawe with open eyes A slepe I dreamt and thought my chere had changed hue A wake I felt and founde my former greef aryes You wakened senses now why heare you not and see Those things I heard and sawe when dreames apperde to mee What foolishe custome keeps my wretched eyes accurste In slepe to see the beste awake beholde the worste When pleasantly I slepe a peace was promisde me When wofully I wakt my warres renued againe When pleasantly I slept in blisse I thought to bee When wofully I wakte of hell I felt the paine If truthe annoye me then and falshood please me beste With all my harte I wishe no truthe in me maie reste Since wakyng workes me woe and slepe contents my will God graunt I neuer wake but liue by slepyng still Thrise happie are the beastes by slombryng sleepe that liue Sixe months in quiet rest with eyes iclosed faste I doe not saie sutche slepe a shape of death doeth giue Nor wakyng represent the life that aye doeth laste Contrary humours loe posses my mased minde In wakyng death I feele in slepyng life I finde If slepe the figure be of death as moste men saie Come quickly death O death and close myne eyes in claie Finis A fancie as an answere to that dreame SOme feele by dreams more ioye then any other waie And those doe steale suche sport by nights thei care not for the daie The sicke as well as sounde hath sutche consaits in breste By slombryng slepes and sweuons sweete thei dreame thei haue some reste The thirstie thinks by dreame he drinks and cool's his heate But that I call a cow deuise to quenche a feuer greate So loue that liu's with dreams on fancies foode maie feede Yet want as mutche a slepe or wake as thei that starue for neede If pleasure we conceiue through sight the same doeth growe Then wakyng is the cheefest freend and slepe a mortall foe The eye must first be fixt ere senses feelyng finde And so in slepe some watchyng sprite awakes the drousie minde Though body seems to slepe and takes his ease in bedde The vitall vaines are woorkyng still and soule is neuer dedde Thus proue I that we wake when slepe beclipps the ghoste And wakyng witts and stirryng blood doeth comfort nature moste A dreame more life doeth showe then death or lompishe slepe And by the motion of suche dreams our soule and life we kepe So graunt I that our sleepes a wakyng Nature haue For slepe it self is noughe but death as bedde presents the graue Though beast is praisde for slepe yet man hath better moode To wake and seeke through breathyng brest to liue by angels foode Then let leude fancie slepe with beast and if you please It is the quicke and wakyng muse that moste my sence doeth ease Finis ¶ A fantasie on fifteene woordes endyng all in one letter IF freendship faint or Fortune faile and flood forsakes to flowe Yet call for hope to hoise vp saile a gale of winde maie blowe When sorrowe comes and sighes encrease with wicked worldly woe Beleue the beste of badde mischaunce and ease thy burthen soe The child that neuer felt the rodde maie out of order goe The horse that can no bridell bide no pace nor traine will showe Tis better freend reforme thy fauts then take rebuke of foe The wood y t breaks whē it should bend will neuer make good bowe That hart is weake which for small greef cōsums melts like snow The rose nor flowre is nere the worse that doeth nere nettell growe A man maie suffer mutche in harte though shooe doe nipp his toe A quiet man maie liue full long that dwells in house with shroe The Faucon flies a stately gate in spite of carraine Crowe Some maks a merry gladsome chere yet feles great care ye knowe Some haue a sadde and heauie minde and walks as light as Doe Thus sutche as beare a pacient brest doe conquere that thei craue And those that striu's against the stream shall seldome pleasure haue Finis ¶ Of the strong and the weake THe weakest goes to wall who wanteth freends must faste Thei saie the strongest will haue all would God that worlde were paste For féeble force I haue with worlde to tugge and toile And lackyng tooles to poule and shaue I yéeld me to the spoile Of those that spares no sleight nor witte to winne their will Who seems to make the crooked streight yet liu's by fleecyng still The weake hath feble knees to clime the clouds ye knowe The strong takes home from the Bees and seru's his fancie soe The strong and mightie flood swéeps all before hym cleane And tourns vp drosse bothe sande and mudde and kéepes no kinde of meane A sillie shallowe streame can doe but little boote It neither breaks doune massie banks nor tears vp trees by roote The weake is vanquisht still the strong will victor bee The strong with weake nor weake w t strong will neuer well agree When sound and sicke doe like and colde and heate are one Or mosse mucke for might maine maie matche w t marble stone Then strong and weake shall ioyne till then saie naie who shall The strong will triumphe on the weake weake

pleasures here possest As did this knight of whom I spake who bore about in brest A noble harte a constant mynde a iollie courage greate A warme good will to common wealth that neuer wanted heate Brought vp in armes and Marciall feats a maister of that arte Whiche oft in feeld and countreis cause did plaie a manly parte As birth was good and noble sure so all he went about Was good and worthie eurie waie and noble still throughout In office oft and by his Prince to credite called still In matters graue and thyngs of weight of deepe foresight and skill No talker of good Fortune won nor boster for vaine bruite A tree that seldome blossomde showd yet brought forth good fruite As calme and milde as Sommer winds that neuer water moues And yet as stout to cruell Rites as gentill with the Doues A bodie apte to beare the brunt of paines and labour long A hedde that could conceiue the beste and sone could put vp wrong A freende that vsde no fained phrase and surely one of those That dealt with parfite plainnesse so he neuer purchaste fose A settled rocke a staied trothe that no deuice could staine A Paulet yea a piller too where Paulet did remaine An aide to sutche as wanted helpe a father free and franke To those that onely for good tourns but barely yeelded thanke What resteth more in any man then was in hym I saie Thus Paulet wan a noble brute and bore the same awaie Where vertue at the dreadfull howre when trompet sounds a loude Emong the cheef and chosen Lambes shall sit in sacred cloude FINIS ¶ Sir VVillyam Courtneis Epitaphe BY death eche life is knowen as darkenesse tries out light By life is man made like the Gods where life is ledde a right Whiles Courtneis life did laste his glorie hid remainde But now he hath sutche rare renowne as fewe or none attainde The worlde setts forthe his fame in sutche a liuely sorte That to the Angells eares aboue is blowen thereof reporte Whiche newes is lickte so well the heauens holde them bleste Whē God shall bid vnlocke the gates embrace this newe come gest But though the heauens ioye the yearth with teares is filde And kinde hath cause to curse her self that suche a tree hath spilde By sicknesse sent in spight to spoile the spraise and all And made grene leaues forsake their bowes ere fruit wer ripe to fall Me thinke I heare hym saie would God had been my chance To hitte on death in open feeld by chardge of enemies Lance. Lament ye Courtlike Lordes a plaie feere loste you haue Sende forthe some sighes a long the seas to sobb vpon his graue That buried is at Hawne with warlike pompe and shotte Whiche range his knell as is the gise alas to sone God wotte Well worthie goe thy waie how many of thy name Are lefte behinde to tread thy stepps and winne but halfe thy fame How should sutche gifts be graft without some power deuine Sutche vertues dwell in one mans breast as harbred were in thine A Courtney by thy name a Courtier kindly borne A perfite peece not painted out a coine vnclippte or worne One of so right a stampe that streight did currant passe In euery place of his repaire where sondrie golds were glasse His face bewraied at first what hope of hym to haue His works performde that tonge brought forth his hand full largely gaue A hedde that ofte had paste dame Prudens mustere books A countnance as his courage was no forsed Lyons looks A harte storehouse of trothe a minde no ire might moue An eare that watcht for well coucht words a grace that gatt mutche loue His liberall Nature shewed full ofte to eche degree Where bountie wants set birthe a side ye can not noble bee Now better kisse his steppes then at his praise to kicke Well maie men roue about his marke but none shall hit the pricke What mournyng makes his wife that sutche a housbande loste His babes his men his neighbours eke and all the Westerne coste Well geasts your Hoste is gone turne horse an other waie The shrine is robbde the saincte is fled where ye were wont to staie The sacred godds receiue emong them where thei are With as muche mirth as maie be made the sprite y t Courtney bare FINIS Sir VVillyam Pickryngrs Epitaphe MY sences slept in rest the quiet couche I take When worlds reporte with hurlyng brute badde sluggishe muse awake And whett the blunted witts on mournyng matter newe A heauie happe a soddaine chance that thousandes ought to rewe What fortune is befalne in worlde ꝙ I of late Is any braunche or member hurte that erst hath serude the state Or is some sproute decaied or tree blowne donne by blast That through mans skill sweate of browes might growe stande ful fast There is ꝙ Fame to me a worthie wight gone hence Now dedde ' that late was quicke and ripe of iudgement wit sence And Pickryng was his name whose mynde was sure so greate The noble browes bare witnesse plain where hāmers still did beate A man that credite wonne by seruice sondrie waies A Tully bothe with penne and tong at proofe moste worthie praies And surely from the Gods the rarest gifts posseste That euer in these drousie daies did lodge in one mans breste Looke not I should rehearse what all his vertues weare But looke amid these worldly happs how he hym self did beare When Fortune turude her face he smothly let it slide The want of will at no tyme could in looks nor life be spide If happe had faunde on hym he changde no chere therefore In equall ballance stoode the weight of chaunces lesse or more As wisedome clockte his cares so stoutnesse staied his minde And custome taught hym how to taste the toiles that here we finde In learned Platoes rules good Pickryng pleasure tooke And shonde the worlde to sort hym self with gladsome golden booke Emong a worlde of men in deede fewe freends he chose Yet with a manly modest meane he could reclaime his foes His port and presence sutche he was for Court full fitte And for his graue and deepe foresight he might in councell sitte The life that here he ledde giues still sufficient light For skilfull heads and scannyng minds to wrest his maners right Now hath he that he sought and dwells aboue in blis Where good mens soulls as worlde thei leaue at length shall meete with his When Fame had told her tale I cald for paper streight And in suche verse as here you reade I put these words of weight FINIS Maister Hampdens Epitaphe GOOd life is knowen through deathes despite and when to graue wee goe Good life steppes forthe of shroudyng sheete and doeth our vertues showe The yearth can claime but fleshe and bones and leaue the reste to fame The heauens lookes but for the soule and worlde retaines good name So somwhat man doeth leaue behinde that shines like lanterne clere Note

shall goe to wall FINIS ¶ Of Youth and Age. FUll dearely haue I bought the yeres that youth hath spent The longer life the more vnrest and still the lesse content To see that I haue seen and bee a child againe I would not wishe this worlde to winne to liue and passe sutche paine To skipp from age to youth who had sutche scope and choice Perchaunce he would be yong to chuse and in the same reioyce For children carelesse liue and fears not Fortunes fall When men doe dread eche posse of winde yea though the storme bee small But sure a wearie race these children haue to ronne And many sorrowes shall thei taste before their course be done As in my self the proofe who can not count his care Nor learne the rest that after comes how thei shall shon the snare The wilfull will not learne thei saie that knowes the arte Till his own rod hath made hym smart youth hath plaied his part The tales of trauled men are helde for fained lyes Untill the straungnesse of their toile bee seen before our eyes Then t●●e that liste to tread the trace of youths desire And thei that feeles the flames to hott I knowe will feare the fire I wishe them well to speede that will sutche fancies cheape And God thē grant when age doeth come some better corne to reape Then I whose youth consumes with wearie wanton waies That hath but labour for my fruite and dumpishe dolefull daies Loe these are all the ioyes that from our birthe we haue The worlde to tosse the tyme to spende the yearth to be our graue FINIS ¶ Of the short estate of man MY restlesse life hath reapt that woe hath sowne The daies tormoile brings home but bitter smarte I liue with wolues in sauage woodds vnknowne Where Tigers whelpes do feede on harmles hart O cage of care wherein no birde can syng But dolefu●l tunes that maie no Musicke showe And though eche man knowes well where greef doeth wryng Yet can no life discharge it self of woe Then Hell is here finde Heauen where you can In banisht blisse our bodies wander still And out of breathe ronnes wretched sprite of man Beguilde by hope and gaddyng greedy will Thus life is death and death is moste desir'd Where labryng mynde with wearie life is tir'd FINIS The praise of mistres Mabell Browne wherein vertue is honoured IF I were Iudge or had the choyce Of collours faire to chuse the beste Unto the Browne I giue my voyce As pearle of price aboue the reste If men doe aske the cause and why I praise the Browne before the White I saie what thyng contents the eye The harte therein hath his delite The Browne or Blacke doe seldome chaunge Thei still present a sober grace The White and Redde are light and straunge Whose collours fade and fall a pace The Browne is kept from blott and staine When White will soile by diuers waies The Skarlet beares no better graine Then doeth the Browne that I doe praise The whitest marke is ofte desierd The fairest flowre rests nere vnsmeld The Browne is of fewe requierd The darkest dye is worne but seld By whiche I proue the thyng moste vsde Through many hands maie be infecte Wherefore I maie be well escuesde To praise the Browne without suspecte Although the Lillie be full faire The sent and taste is not so pure The pleasant clouds within the aire Doe often hide a stormie showre What Apple hath so sweete a taste As hath the Pippin Blacke and Browne Wherefore this collour I haue plaste Of worthie same to weare the croune FINIS Of wandryng and gaddyng abroad DRawe home betyme ere Youth take leaue and Age vpon thee growes And doe not thou thy self deceiue with hope of worldly showes Whose pōpe doeth nought but please thine eyes with that thou canst not haue And carries the like cloude in Skyes to that should be thy slaue What seest thou foole in princely hauls that maie a poore man eas Whose state is toste with tennis balls and turns with winde seas He courts some while that cart doeth driue ere many yeres run out And thei that moste for Fortune striue doe liue in furthest dout A thriftlesse sonne enioyes their store and therewith serues his lust When those are gone that sweate therefore and troden in the dust What profite bryngs thy wearie bones of vncouth sights abrode It wears but feete vpon the stones and doeth the conscience lode Ten thousande yeres heape vp in hedde and all therein hath paste And marke eche thing is doen and sedd and waie the same at last And thou shalt see it breaks but braine and breeds but greef in brest Thus trauaill néeds must lose his paine when home must be thy rest The harte desires the eye doeth craue a sight of all thyngs don When proofe thereof a man shall haue what hath our trauaill won A triumphe but a pagent seems when paste is all the sho All other thyngs that man estemes man lothes at length also Wherefore thou pilgrime too and fro take vp thy trusse in haste For tyme al things here I knowe with thee will weare and waste FINIS ¶ Of faire thynges and soule where in a vertuous Ladie is sette out AS God bestowde his grace on thee through heauenly skill By comely shape and forme of face and worldly wealthe at ●●ll So people doe suppose that beares an vpright minde Amid thy noble inward breast dame Uertues giftes are shrinde For God makes nothyng lame his woorks so perfite bee That hidden graces aunswers oft the outward shape we see The ritche and precious pearle that shines to sight ye knowe Haue many vertues in the same besides the outward showe The goodly glittryng gold hath Nature to restore Some peece of health y t sicknesse brought by greef consumde before The flowre whose beautie faire delites the eye full well Is freend by kinde to medsons swéete and sharps our sence by smell The ground that smothly lookes bears fruits and herbs enowe And yeelds the Idle Landlorde rent and feeds the houshold throwe Thus from faire things I proue some goodnesse men maie reape And where that beautie budds bloums doeth bountie hord heape Els all this goodly worlde is but like painted poste Or as a picture dombe and dedde that hath ne sprite nor ghost If Phebus wanted heate and did no grace retaine For all his beames and glorie greate he should but shine in vaine I doubt not but the Gods hath furnisht you so well That life and good renowme can showe where vertue ought to dwel My penne but mou's your minde of that ye like to here A iewell that the Gods embrace and worlde doeth holde full dere 〈…〉 that long shall laste whose light shall nere goe out But burne blase as bright as torche whiles breath ye beare about If people did but note what doeth by vertue ryes The meanest wight w t wings of fame would seke to mount y e skies Or followe them whose stepps doeth eche good gift aduaunce Thei know full well what measure means that leads dame vertues daunce I leaue you to the rounde holde on the trace a while And as the bell beginns to sound at Churchyards verses smile Finis Of an enemie NO simple mynde maie thriue a daie The suttell Snakes séeks out suche sleight Then looke thou arme thy self I saie With face of Brasse the féelde to feight And neuer yeeld the race to ronne Till courage hath the conquest wonne Suspecte the worste and woorke the beste And sharpe thy witts to shéeld the harme And seeke the Serpents in their neste Although in hols the Adders swarme When craft is curbde with cunnyng skill A simple minde shall haue his will Finis ¶ VVritten in the beginnyng of Kyng Edwardes raigne whiche verses are called Dauie Dicars Dreame WHen faithe in freendes beare fruite and foolishe fancies fade And craftie catchers come to nought and hate greate loue hath made When fraude flieth farre from toune and loitrers leaue the feelde And rude shall runne a rightfull race and all men be well wilde When gropers after gaine shall carpe for common wealthe And wilie woorkers shall disdaine to figge and liue by stealthe When wisedome walkes a loft and follie sitts full lowe And vertue vanquishe pampred vice and grace beginns to growe When Iustice ioynes to truthe and Lawe lookes not to meede And bribes helpe not to builde faire bowrs nor giftes greate glottōs feede When honger hides his hedde and plentie please the poore And niggards to the needie men shall neuer shut their doore When double darke deceipt is out of credite worne And faunyng speeche is falshed founde and craft is laught to scorne When Pride whiche pickes the purse gapes not for garments gaie Nor Iauels weare no veluet wedes nor wādring witts beare swaie When ritches wrongs no right nor power poore put backe Nor couetous creepes not into Court nor learned liuyng lacke When slipper sleights are seen and farre fetches be founde And priuate profite and self loue shall bothe be put in pounde When debt no Sergeant dreeds and Courtiers credite keepe And might mells not w t Merchandise nor lordes shall sell no sheepe When lucre lasts not long and hourd greate heaps doeth hate And euery wight is well content to walke in his estate When truthe doeth tread the streats and liers lurke in den And Rex doeth raigne and rule the rost and weeds out wicked men Then balefull barnes be blithe that here in Englande wone Your strife shall stint I vndertake your dreadfull daies are done FINIS Here endeth the booke called Churchyardes Chance and beginneth an other booke named his Charge and so in one volume shall followe his Choice his Chippes and all the rest of his bookes that here tofore hath bin sette out and written by Churchyarde sauyng a booke of Meta incognita and some other small volumes whiche can not be bound in quarto yet hereafter by Gods grace shalbe sette out in a large volume Where twoo thousande wonders shalbe treated of with a rehearsall of warres and seruices dooen in this our present age whiche booke shalbe called Churchyardes Chalenge dedicated to the noble Earle of Oxforde All whiche woorkes God willyng shall come forthe with as mutche speede as possible can be made requiryng the readers thereof in consideration of the Aucthours greate studie and paines to yeeld hym sutche good reporte as his good will deserueth Finis

more O pensiue troubled breste Who sowes in care is sure to reape in reste FINIS A letter in Maie sent to Maister Henry Knowles house at Gobbyns YOur healthfull house that holdes me here with heapes of sweete delite Where Courtlike fare not countrey chere I finde and thereof write Makes me forgett the dompishe daies that hatefull soiles did yelde And feedes my fancie many waies with pleasures of the feeld For here the birdes doe chure and charme as bells of Osney ronge Or els the pretie boyes of Poules amidde the clapper songe Methinke the trees doe tremble still and that the yearth should shake When Nightyngalls in Mornyng graie their merie Musick make For through their throats thei thrust their notes as Organ pipes did sound Te deum and faburthen sweete the Quere had chanted round Here is no noies of churlishe Choughs nor piuishe chattryng Pye Nor screkyng Oule the poste of Death that mak's a fearfull crye Nor pratyng Paret dare not preace in compasse of this place Nor no proude Pecocke commeth here for all his stately grace This soile doeth breede no scornfull bird in whom disdain doth dwell This is a heauen of it self that stands so farre from hell No deuelishe minde maie nestell here for feare thei scoule and lowre This is a pleasant plot of ground where Gods haue bilt their bowre Who made a lawe on paine of death that none aproche the seate Except his swéete conceited spéeche prouoketh laughter greate Those hoggishe hedds and lompishe lobbs that muse on mischeef still Are banisht from this fruitfull vaill to digge at Mauuorne hill And yet the dullest dolt that is maie happe to mende his spréete If when his grossest humour comes he tast the nector swéete That I haue founde for loe here dwelles a noble nurse in deede Who for the weaknesse of mens braines she hath so fine a seede It heales the hedache and the cough and comforts so the wittes That man vpon the present helpe forgetts his former fitts This merrie medson workes in me a masse of matter good It makes me walke yea eate and slepe and gather so mutche blood That now greate gobbins gins to growe vpon my Lenten chéekes And leggs are filde with fatt and fleshe that was as leane as Léekes Whiche you shall see and well perciue if long you walke in Poules And so I saie in takyng leaue Adue good maister Knowles FINIS Of the want of will THe daies delaie doeth breede my nights vnreste My wished ioyes makes harte to taste of woe The want of will torments my troubled breste Looke what I seeke of force I must forgoe Helde vp by hope throwne doune by hatefull happe I scape a storme yet slaine through thonder clappe Tweene twoo extremes my life in ballance lyes I feede farre of yet nere the foode I craue My footyng failes and yet my minde doeth ryes I lacke no hope and yet no happ I haue Thus striuyng still agaist the streame of strife I feede the harte and weare awaie the life Who weau's his webbe like Spider on the spraie Maie waite for Flies or spende his tyme in waste Who dwelles in doubt and rests vpon decaie Staies for good lucke where Fortune makes no haste He gropes for smoke and lookes to catche the winde That serues in hope and hatefull happ doeth finde Finis Of twoo vertuous sisters WHen youth was in his prime and Pecockes plumes were gaie And loe amid my laughyng eyen twoo pretie babes did plaie I spake of merrie sports that fedde my fancie than But trackt of tyme hath taught me now to bee a grauer man And iudge by iuste regard of worldly things the weight And learne the witte and sence to see the deepenesse and the height Of eche thing vnder Sonne so that in aged daies I neither leane to leude delites nor stoupe to wanton waies If sweete desires are dedde and luste hath taken leaue And follies freaks are throughly fledde that did vaine youth disceiue My speeche maie credite claime of all that heares the same And I maie freely giue them laude by verse that merits Fame Then preace in place twoo Nimphs that I at Ipswitche sawe Posses suche praies as vertue yeelds by sentence of her lawe And for your maners milde a beautie to good life I wishe that eche of you in deede maie proue a worthie wife And liue to parents ioye and reape renowne therefore And if vnto your owne content my harte could wishe you more You should not haue bare lines at this my laste a due But thondryng blast of endlesse Fame with praies should honor you FINIS ¶ Translated out of Latine TRue wedlocke is true bondage treble fold A double greef of feeble fleshe and spreete So man is drawne as Oxe in market sold That he maie be for endlesse labour meete Who takes a wife is ledde in yoke to drawe And feelyng paine to paine he yeelds from birth Takyng is caught and bryngs hym self in awe And seruyng still is made a drudge on yearth The text showes here who beste by marrage winns In wearie Lome a webbe of woe he spinns Finis ¶ A discription of the goodnesse that growes in Cicilia WHiles rangyng youth did ronne about as rage of humour roes A reatchlesse race I rowsled on as water ebbes and floes And though through toile my tyme consumde yet triall taught me well Here is a place for all our pompe where pilgrims ought to dwell But wildnesse edgde me forward faste to se these worldly ioyes And greedie minde of glory vaine that poffes men vp with toyes Badde wanton will ronne all on hedde and neuer looke behinde Till age on youth had clapt his clokes by cruell course of kinde Thus haled through the hauen mouth where heapes of hazards are Full vnder saile through swellyng seas my ship and I did fare And passyng so to sondrie soiles I sought some suertie still But that was past my compasse cleane and farre beyond my skill For sutche as seekes in Sillas seas a saffetie for his Barke Maie driue a midde Charibdes cliu's and misse the full sea marke Well as my shipp found winde at will so did I make my saile And landyng tooke in sondrie soiles when sea roume seemd to faile So France and Flaunders sawe I through and other lands a score Where vessells in the rode might ride and none might goe on shore But barely was I vittailde still and seldome voide of want And neuer founde good gale of winde as weather were so skant It had no will to serue my tourne in all my iourneis greate Untill I cast a better course and founde a noble seate That men doe call Cicillya where loe sweete Cipres groes And many other precious things more sweete then Muskie roes No soner sought I succour there but straight waies had I aide As though that Deastnie did decree my Barke should there be staied O fruitfull soile full fraught with grace the dewe of heauen fall Bothe daie and night like siluer showres vpon