in my sinnes I die For still the flesh is subiect to offende while yet the spirit groneth for thy grace But thou hast power the weakest to defende That vnto thee reueale their heauy case Then from that hande and mighty arme of thine Strengthen this weake wounded soule of mine Thou that hast saide prowde Esaw was thy hate And humble Iacob was thy chosen loue That dost the power of worldly pride abate And workst the heauen of humble hartes behoue Make Esawes life with lacobs loue agree Or kill the flesh the soule maie liue with thee And from despaire that poisned sting of death Deliuer lorde the sorrowes of desire And at the latest houre and gaspe of breath Let humble hart the hope of heauen aspire where faithfull soules maie in thy fauour see That onely loue doth onely liue in thee What booteth me the world for to possesse And want the iewell of my heauenly ioie what earths delight but is to me distresse when natures health doth proue the soules anoye No my sweete loue let this poore soule of mine Neuer haue life but in that loue of thine One precious droppe of thy pure oile of grace Power downe sweete loue into my wounded hart And to my faith so turne thy louing face That from thy fauour I maie neuer part Looke on thy Mary with her bitter teares That washt thy feete and wiptethe with her heares The greater depts forgiuen the greater loue Thy worde hath saide and it saies euer true when patience life in pitties loue doth proue In greatest mercy greatest glory grue where one mans sinne procured all mens paine And one mans grace gaue all men life againe Oh high creator of all creatures liuing who nothing wantst that all thinges dost possesse what hath the world that may be worth the giuing Vnto the honor of thy holines But onely thankes that thy true spirit moueth In that true hart that thy true mercy loueth But still I see my loue is sore displeasde And tels me of my great vngratefulnes when so my soule with sorrow is diseasde As in my hart findes nought but hatefulnes And with the teares of true repentance crieth Lorde saue the life that in thy mercy lieth For thou art loue the euerliuing God And onely God and onely of the liuing who though thou smitst thy children with thy rod Sweete is the care of thy corrections giuing In which thy sweete and kindest care correct me But in thy mercy neuer doe reiect me Let neuer death against thy life preuaile Nor euer hate once looke against thy loue Nor faithfull hope thy heaunly fauour faile But harts contrition happy comfort proue And let the soule euen at the dore of death Liue by the aiâ—…r but of thy heauenly breath Mine eâ—…es are dimme my flesh bare skin and bone My sinewes shroncke and all my limmes are num Mine eares are deafe but to the sound of mone My speech is but to sorrow stroken dum My bloode dried vp my hart with sorrow soken Oh helpe the soule before the heart be broken Behold the sorrowes that my soule doeth make And see what torments teare my heart a sunder where euery teare doth other ouertake where fearefull care puts faithfull comforts vnder Oh my sweete life though I be deadly wounded Let not my faith be vtterly confounded And Since oh king that thou art onely able To helpe the helples onely but in thee And by one crumme from thy true mercies table The wofull soule may well relieued be Of that sweete foode oh let my faith so tast That by thy loue my life may euer last What life is this that wretches here we leade Caring and carking for our fleshly liues Neuer wel fild when we are too much fedde where strange conceits for true contentment striues Tearing our harts and tiring out our mindes For that in fine which but repentance findes Where kindnes proues a kinde of leude conceite Leading the heart to lothsomnes of loue while wisest wits on wanton humours waite And wilfull fancies doe but follies proue where power pride so plage the world with woes That peace and vertue all to ruine goes Where gold is helde a God siluer a Saint And durt and drosse are dearest in regarde where frendship failes and faith beginnes to faint And curses rule while blessed thoughts are barde And all and some doe in conclusion proue wo to the world that liues not by thy loue Where valure proues but foolish hardines And greatest wit is wicked wilines And honour gotten by vnworthines Fils all the world with all vnhappines while vertue sighes at sinners wickednes And Angels mourne for our vngodlines Where parents grieue at childerns stubbornes And children smile at parents childishnes where masters sigh at seruants idlenes And seruants laugh at masters wantonnes while faithfull soules in sorrowes wretchednes Looke but in heauen to haue their blessednes Where subtle heads are simple harts illusion while Tyraunt thoughts vniustly make intrusion And outward shewes are inward thoughts allusion while strange delightes are strong desires delusion And heedles care doeth make vp this conclusion That lacke of grace is all the worlds confusion Where brightest truth by treason often blamed is VVhile faithles hart with falshood all enflamed is And carefull age with sorrow all ashamed is That careles youth so long at large vntamed is That where good nature all alas misnamed is The faith of honour vtterlie defamedis VVhere sore deâ—…aies the care of true Gentility And strong disquiet standeth for tranquility And vertue is of too much imbecility where faith is found but ful of al fragility when honors loue that liues by hopes humility Must walke among the beggars for ability Oh wicked fruit of woful hearts affection when once the soule is toucht with sins infection And wil not learne by care of thy correction To leade a life but by thy loues direction where in the fire of thy bright sunnes reflexion They maie behold the height of their perfection But what is Earth and what but earth are we A goodly brag begunne and endes in dust where old young all the world may see From whence we came and whetherto we must Short time we liue no sooner dead then rotten And scarce welburied but wee are forgotten Oh Lord thou knowest this world is all but wo where sinne doth seeke to get the vpper hand The flesh would faine the spirit ouerthrow But that her stay doth in thy mercy stand But since the soule may conquer sinne by thee Lord let thy mercy onely sight for me Let me but looke vpon thy holie loue And sucke my honie from that heauenlie hiue wherein my soule such sweetnes maie approue That with that foode shee maie for euer liue And feeding so vpon thy sacred will when shee is fedde yet maie shee hunger still Oh bring me home that long haue beene abroade And leade me streight that long haue gone astraie And raise me vp that haue beene ouertroade And
but in thy blessed giftes abounde Besides the peace wherewith the hart is blest To bring the soule to thy eternall rest Thou dost not ioie to see a sinners death But true repentaunce pleaseth thee farre better Yea thou wilt helpe at latest gaspe of breath To make the soule confesse it selfe thy debter And where the soule such comforts doth approue Can there be thought a comfort like thy loue No no this worlde is full of wanton toies which oft keepes backe the comfort of thy care And many waies doth worke the harts anoies when fortunes hope doth proue but heauy fare Oh heauens who knew but halfe thy blessednes woulde hate the world with all his wretchednes Where shew of faith doth shape but falshods cloke when fancies teares proue drops offonde desire wherefree conceites will yeeld to kindenes yoke when sorrow paies repentance for their hire while in thy loue maie liuing faith vnfolde Hart may her hope hope may her heauen behold What shadowes here doe ouershroude the eie while Masking thoughts doe March before the winde where loues conceite doth but illusion trie when careles wit becometh the wilfull blinde And Nature findes her selfe still misconceiued where forme for matter hath the soule deceiued Not that my wits can touch the smallest worth Of that high wonder worthines of thine For from a sinner what can issue forth And who more sinner then this soule of mine which doth with teares of true repentance moue thy gratious helpe to glorifie thy loue For as vnto the sea a water droppe And to the sandes a little pibble stone And as a corne vnto a haruest croppe And vnto infinite the number one So are my Muses in their Musicke short thy Kingly prayse of prayses to report But as a scholer that doth goe to schoole To make a letter ere he learne to write And as the wit that knowes it selfe a foole Till higher wisedome teach it to endite So let my soule in her submission proue Hate of the world and honour of thy loue For what is heere that can content the hart That knowes content or what it doth containe what thought ◅o sweete but brings as sowre a smart Or pleasure such but breedes a further paine what thing so good but proues in fine so euil As but for God woulde beare men to the deuill What is the Earth the labour of our life what is the sea a gulfe of griezy lakes what is the Aire a stuffe of filthy strife what is the fire the spoile of what it takes when these are al whence euery thing doth springe what is the worlde but euen a woful thing What thing is man a cloddde of miry claie Slime of the Earth a slaue to filthie sinne Springes like a weede and so doth weare awaie Goes to the earth where first he did beginne Oh heauens thinke I when man is wholy such what is in man that man shoulde loue so much VVhat hath the worlde to leade the minde to loue In true effect a fardel ful of toies where wey the pith what euery one doth proue The perfectst gems are most vnperfect Ioies Consider al what fansie bringeth forth The best conceite will fal out nothing worth VVhat worldely thinges doe follow fansie most welth Beutie loue fine diet honor fame what findes affect both loue and labour lost Disdaine disease dishonor death and shame where care and sorrow death and deadly strife Doe rule the rost in this accursed life What thing is Beauty colour quickely gon And what is wealth when riches fal to rust what thing is loue a toy to thinke vpon Fine diet drosse to feede a filthy lust what worldly honour oft vnworthy praise what ease the cause whereby the life decaies What is disdaine the skorne of proud conceit And what disease the death of discontent Dishonour next the fruit of foule deceite And what is death but ende of ill intent Now what is shame a shamefull thing to tell And thus the world but euen the way to hell For beasts birds for fishes flowers trees And al such things created for our vse what thing is man to take such things as theese By want of grace to turne vnto abuse Oh wretched world when man that should be best In beastly things proues worse then al the rest But when I see this wretched state of man And al the world at such a woful passe That since the course of humane care began More ful of wo good nature neuer was when this my soule doth with her sorrow see Lord saies my Loue that I might liue with thee And leauing so the world with all his woes And looking vp to heauen heauenly ioies And to the grace where vertues glory goes Noting the life that neuer loue anoies when in my soule Idoe this sweetnes proue Lord saies my soule howe sweete art thou my loue I see the sunne the beauty of the skie The moone and stars the candles of the night They haue their essence in thy heauenly eie That blindes the proude and giues the humble light I see the raine-bow bended by thy hand That doth both heauen earth sea heauen cōmand Thou gauest the sunne the moone stars a course which they obserue according to thy will Thou makest the tides to take their due recourse And setst the earth where it doth settle stil. Thou framdst the substance of each Element And settst thy foote vpon the firmament Thus doest thou sitte in glory of thy throne with al the hoast of highest heaues attended who in thine ire hast kingdoms ouerthrowen And in thy loue hast little things defended whose glory more then may by man be knowen And glory most is in thy mercy showen Thus dost thou sit in honor of thy power Calling the poore vnto thy rich reliefe Sowing the sweete that killeth euery sower Giuing the salue that healeth euery griefe Making them liue that long were dead before And liuing so that they can die no more Thou madst the worlde and what it doth containe Onely but man thou madst vnto thy loue And mans good will was thy desired gaine Till proude attempt did high displeasure moue Thou plagst his pride yet when thou sawst his paine Thou ga◅st the s◅lue that heald the wound againe Vngratefull man whom thou didst onely make In loue to loue and with thy loue preseruest And for his loue enduredst for his sake Such death of life as dearest loue deseruest what cursed hart woulde to displeasure moue thee That giuing all askes nothing but to loue thee Oh loue sweete loue oh high and heauenly loue The onely lin◅ that leades to happy life Oh loue that liu◅st for louing hartes behoue And makst an ende of euery hatefull strife Happy are they that kindely can attaine thee And how accurst that dare but to disdaine thee Thy loue was cause that first we were created Loue is the life that thou wilt haue vs leade Loue is the cause we neuer can be hated Loue is our life
when other life is dead Loue is thy grace that higest good doth giue Loue me then lorde and I shall euer liue And with that worde proceeding from her hart The trickeling teares distilled downe her eies As if her sence possest in euery part A secret ioie that did the soule surprise when lifting vp her handes oh loue quod shee My soule is sicke she cannot be with thee And from the mercy of thy maiesty Beholde the sorrowes of my wounded soule Let pitties care of loues calamitie My ruthfull teares thy register enrowle And thinke vpon the passions that I approue For truely lorde my soule is sicke of loue And sicke it is and so well maie it bee A sweeter sickenes then a worldly health A healthfull sickenes to be sicke for thee where Natures want doth proue the spirits wealth while hart hath set her highest happines But to beholde thee in thy holines But I am sicke and sicke in euery vaine Sicke to the death but not to die to thee For why thy loue assures me life againe And there to liue where death can neuer be Oh sweetest sicknes where the soule may see The way through death to come to liue with thee To liue with thee oh euer liuing loue Oh let me die that I may liue no more Till in thy loue I may the life approue That may confesse I neuer liu'de before Life is but death where thy loue shineth neuer Onely thy loue is happy life for euer My sinnes my sinnes with sorrow and with shame Of faultes and follies couerd haue my face Death is my due I haue deseru'd the same Wo to the hart in such vnhappy case But if repentance mercy may obtaine Looke on me loue and I am well againe Vnhappy hart that euer thee offended Vnworthy eies thy blessing to beholde Vncarefull eare that euer tale attended But to the truth that hath thy mercy tolde vnfaithful soule that euer thought did moue From euerliuing with thine onely loue But now the hartis dead to worldes delight And eies in teares pronounce repentance truth The eare is deafe vntill the hart be right To see the life that of thy loue ensueth The faithfull soule of pleasure is depriued Dead till her life be by thy loue reuiued Nor let me teâ—…pt that 〈◊〉 loue of thine To hasten time beyonde thy holy will But only looke vpon this soule of mine That in thy loue may be her liuing still Till shee may heare this ioiful â—…ounde of thee Come away loue and euer liue with me But yet my loue me 〈◊〉 I see thee looke As though my soule had thee displeased sore But hath my loue so high displeasure tooke That he will looke vpon my loue no more Oh yes my loue will not be angry euer And where he loues he will be angry neuer Then though thou chide yet be not angry loue But in thy kindenes giues thy sweete correction That humble hart maie in repentance proue The dearest passage of thy loues direction whose blessed ende may in this only be To liue to die to die to liue to thee Me thinkes I see that glorious seate of thine whereto thy Saints and Angels al assemble And in the presence of thy power diuine with Ioifull feare how euen the highest tremble And when those spirits doe such passions proue Shall I presume to think vpon thy loue Oh sweetest loue that carries such a force As keepes the hart of humble hope in awe And sweete againe that caries such remorse As hath cut off the curses of the lawe And sweetest yit that in the soule doth proue There is no sweete indeede but in thy loue Which feeds the huÌ„gry with a heaueÌ„ly bread And cooles the thirsty from the liuing Rocke which heales the sicke giues life vnto the dead And wakes the careful with the morning Cocke which breedes the peace that stinteth euery strife And giues the fountaine of the well of life It is the key that opes the doore of grace Vnto the care that thou hast constant proued And shewes the fauour of thy shining face Vnto the blessed of thy deare beloued It is in summe the infinite sweete pleasure Of tried faith and true Repentance treasure Oh ioy ofioies what hart can comprehend thee Oh sweet of sweets what sence that can coÌ„ceiue thee Blest be the harts that truly doe attend thee And ten times blest that in their soules receiue thee And fairely blest whom thou hast faithful proued But chiefly blest whom thou hast chiefly loued Me thinkes I see how sweetly thou dost ride Aboue the heauens vpon the Cherubs high with all thine Angels set on euery side with all the sound of sweetest harmony wheral some their sweetest notes do frame To sing the praises of thy holy name Me thinkes I see thy holy Martyrs crowned On huÌ„ble knees cast down their crowns before thee And cry alowd be thou alone renowned Let heauen and earth and all the world adore thee when my poore soule with sinne oppressed sore Can say Amen yet though it say no more Oh that my soule could see that sacred light That might but leade me to thy holy will And learne the rule that keepes the soule aright In perfect faith thy precepts to fulfill And might so neere vnto thy hand abide As from thy loue might neuer steppe aside But what am Iâ—… a worme and wretched thing Vnworthy creature made of earth and claie Once to presume to speake vnto my King On whom the state of highest heauens doth staie Let not presumption thy displeasure moue But in thy pitty looke vpon my loue For I am sicke oh sauiour sende me health My hart is hurt come heale my deadly wounde And I am poore relieue me with thy wealth Yea I am dead oh raise me from the grounde My health my wealth my only resurrection let my soule liue but in thy loues perfection Beholde the tearâ—…s of my repentaunt truth And wey my sorrowes by my sighing sobbes And in the rule but of thy heauenly ruth Feele my poore hart in horror how it throbbes And when thou seest my soule thus wo begun her In thy sweete mercy sweete loue looke vpon her And from the dew of thy deare blessed loue Let fall one droppe vpon my dried hart wherein my soule such comfort maie approue As maie asswage the rigour of my smart And being so by thy sweete hand relieued Maie so reioice as neuer more be grieued Lorde who dare looke against thy liuing power Or what doth liue but onely in thy loue The sweete of sweets where there was neuer sower But ioies of ioies that can no sorrow proue Oh purest proofe of loue and lifes perfection Blest be the soule that liues by thy direction But my hart pantes my soule doth quake for feare And sorrowes paine possesseth euery part My heape of sinnes to heuy for to beare Presse downe desire with terror of desart And in great dread of deepe dispaire doth crie Grace giue me life for
quaerentem â—…e 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Mirandum plané cantas sed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Vt sit mirandus qui cauit 〈◊〉 In eiusdem 〈◊〉 SIC Peregrinaâ—…tem singis sic pingis Amanteâ—… Vt Peregrinantis 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Ore fauete omnâ—…s 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Nobilis vulgâ—… 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Quae â—…ibi Musarum talem 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Bretâ—…ône tantam 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Quae Dea non hominem vox 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Non miror sacro quód sacra fonte fluant MIraris reâ—… 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Bretonus 〈◊〉 tam 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Inuitante canit canit 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Multa hinc tam facilè tam 〈◊〉 culta 〈◊〉 Qui canit inuiâ—…â canit 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Aut nihil aut nihili 〈◊〉 vel 〈◊〉 Esto Minerua tuis Dea 〈◊〉 latiâ—… Athenis Et tibi vel 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Some scoffe at all that write write not at all Some write but to finde fault with them that writer Some ballat-makers scorne and scorne by right Except they wince because they feele the gall At timers some ô poore worde cast their gall Cast gall and all in such minde well they might Some through melancholy or riuall spite All Poets sdeigne or some no Poets call Avaunt such scoffing sin default scorning spirits Or let our writers ballat-makers rimers In her owne mony pay Lycambes merits Poets fly higher then such pety climers Let this suffice that Breton is a Poet Shee saide it we subscribe it his bookes shewit Mira. 〈◊〉 IN NICOLAI BRETONI EANdem peregrinantem amantem 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Henrici Pricei QV Aemodâ—… 〈◊〉 iter 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 quid hâ—…c est Hoc est 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 quo 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 â—…er Huic in dux Brettons via comes illa quiâ—… hoc est Hoc est In portu est 〈◊〉 coâ—… esq suâ—… Ad Lectorem BElla Maro cecinit lasciuam Naso 〈◊〉 Dissimili hâ—…c canitur miles 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Non animalis homo est quem sic in praelia â—…rudit Non est lasciuus virginiâ—… huius amor Transiâ—…us est animae per mille pericula carnis Diuinique nouâ—…m tradit amoris opus Idem ad Authorem SIT pietas 〈◊〉 Deus est virtutis 〈◊〉 Taliâ—… dum recolis viue Bretone vale Sol gloria lucis FINIS THE PILGRIMAGE TO PARADISE FROM all those courses of a vaine conceit Where vertue proues her honor hath no place Vnto the Sunne of that bright shining heighte Where all the graces haue their highest grace My Muse is weande by wisedomes sounde aduise To make her pilgrimage to paradise Which pilgrimage is not as poets faine Nor pieuish people blindely doe conceiue A kinde of walke that worldly wealth may gaine VVhereby the deuill doth the worlde deceiue But t is a walke of onely vertues will And to be founde but by the spirits skill Now they that must this trauaile take in hande Are onely fiue ech differente in theire nature Which with consent doe all contented stand To yeeld theire seruice to one onely creature By whom they are vnto theire comforte led And as hee fares are found aliue or dead Now lies this walke alonge a wildernes A forrest ful of wild and cruell beastes The earth vntilde the fruit vnhappines The trees all hollow full of howletes nestes The aier vnholsome or so foule infected as â—…ardely restes that may not be reiected But to goe on with my intended tale Fiue seruants ledde by one chiefe lord there were which all were sworne in either blisse or bale Their masters fortune faithfully to beare And so resoluâ—…de to see their seruice done On gods good speed their trauaile thus begonne The lorde and Master first the Muses called And bad them stay their straying kinde of Musing whose pure conceite their spirits so apalled As made them haue their humors in refusing And make their state but on that only story That was the grace of their eternall glory Then gaue a charge to euery one aparte To keepe the compasse of a true conceite what euery one should haue for her desart That to her hope coulde keepe the high waie streight And then his seruants soundely did aduise How they shoulde finde the path to paradise The first his charge was onely but to see what best might please what might worst offend what obiects might but all as abiects be what harme to scape what honour to attende A farre neare hand each side before behinde How best to guide a pure and perfect minde The seconde calde his charge was but to heare In sweetest sounds which was the soundest sweete what graces might in Musickes grounde appeare And where the honors of the humors meeâ—…e what carefull notes doe comfort best conclude while Sitens songes doe but the soule delude The third then calde was charg'd to take the sent Of euery flower and herbe within the fielde which might but grow whereas their graces went what sauoure might the sweetest profit yeelde And what might hurt least that the braine displeased The body might perhaps be all diseased The fourth then calde did take his charge to tast Of euery fruite that should become their foode what beast might nourish and might sweetest last And in their trauaile most might doe them good How sweete with sower might best be tempred so As tone the tother might not well forgoe Then came the fifte who tooke his charge to feele The grauelde causey from the hollow grounde How best the toe might trust vnto the heele when settled faith had surest footing sounde And so by leasure finde where sweetely lies The louely path that leades to paradise When thus ech one had learned what to doe Instructed by the guide vnto their grace Weying the worth they were to walke vnto Wishing longing to beholde the place Onwards they passe but with two poore attendauntes And on the earth but with two poore defendauntes Their cariage was but an vnwildy trunke Wherein to neare their trash was laied their treasure With weight whereof their shoulders often thruncke Before they came vnto their place of pleasure But let that passe vntill the time be cumme To make the reckening of a Roial summe But to goe on as I did first intend To tell the course of these resolued creatures To take a trauaile that should neuer ende A note aboue the reache of earthly natures Lo thus it was at least as he did write That seemde he winckt not when he hit the white AloÌ„g the walke the walke alas to long Amidde the haples hils and dolefull dales where sighes sobs doe sound but sorrows song while sweetest truthes are crost by sorie tales And darkest cloudes are clapt before the sunne This wary creatures haue their waie begunne A path vnpleasant where no pleasure was That earthly people easely might perceiue A passage harde and narrow for to passe But for the life that of his life tooke leaue To passe the lake where death sorrow lies And kill them both to come to paradise Wherein no sooner were they all set forth with resolution
his passage well When not to stand on circumstance too long He meetes anon with this same monster thing who by illusion of the Sirens song would seeke a worlde in bondage how to bring Turning himselfe into a thousand shapes To feare fond children and to cosen Apes And first he looks like to a fiery light which would consume what so did crosse his waie But soone was donne the force of his despight where vertue came he had no power to staie And then he would become a speaking birde But God once namde he durst not speake a worde And by and by he would become a Beare To feare young children with a foolish noise But when a man a beast can neuer feare He found it prou'de olde children were no boies when by and by he woulde become an Ape Oh beastly thing too neare a humaine shape But when that vertue founde the vile effect Of Apish humors with the Monckish mindes Shee wholy did the vermins iestes reiect And forst him seeke for shapes of other kindes when all his sleightes could doe him little boote For vertue knew the deuil by his foote No though into an Angell faire of light He coulde transforme him selfe for to deceiue Yet coulde he not his foote keepe out of sight But vertue coulde his filthy clawe perceiue So by his foote shee plainely did descrie him Bidding auaunte foule fiende shee did defie him When as the pilgrime lifting vp his eies To heauenly powers from hell for to defende him Sweete Christ once namde awaie the Serpent flies And for awhile vnable to offende him Til once againe the heauens had giuen him leaue To doe his worst sweete vertue to deceiue When in the shape whereof before I spake with his seuen heads the wicked Serpent standes with such a sounde as made the earth to shake As halfe the worlde were subiect to his handes when first his head of pride began to speake And to this pilgrime did this poison breake Thou little wretch quod he of lesser worth In humaine shape I know not what to name whom honors spirit neuer coulde bring forth To seeke the fortune of imperial fame How didst thou fal into this forlorne path wherein the worlde so little pleasure hath Where see the ground of euery secret griefe which mortifies the body with the minde Subiect to euery crosse and for reliefe Pitty the whole that thou must hope to finde Patience a paine set downe life but a death where care and sorrow draw a sickely breath VVhere eies must be embased to the ground Their pleasing humors barred to beholde And bended knees to cappe and courtzy bounde while bared head must bide the bitter colde The minde must stoupe the hande must loose his strength The hart must droupe and life must yeelde at length Is this the reach of Reasons noble wit To see a world and seeke for nothing in it In such a chaire doth charie humor sit To know a worke of worth and not beginne it who could of power conceiue the kingly pleasure would no conceit with such a comfort measure Humility a iolly creeping thought Patience a prety purgatory Sorrow a fit for the phisitian wrought And death a gentill ende of misery Fasting and praier al the spirits pleasure Notes for a King to looke vpon at leasure No stoupe no thought seeke only to subdue Set no conceit in honor with a crowne In begger minde true conquest neuer grew The village is a cotage to the towne The Monarchy doth shew the noble minde He hath no life that cummes of lower kinde VVhat slaue wil serue that easely may commaunde what sence wil stoupe that may be set alofte who wil desire that needes not to demaunde who loues the boordes may haue his bedde made softe Or who regardes the rascall beggers teares That may haue Musicke to contente his eares What poore conceit wil begge for crūmes of bread May haue his table furnisht all with cates Or breake his hart with hammers of his head May passe his humors with his pleasing mates Faire wise rich learned valiant young and olde Power is the hande doth at commandement holde And so he stopt but swelling with such pride As if his braine woulde haue with poison burst To whom the pilgrime presently replied Avaunt foule fiende and Monster most accurst Thou hate of heauen and greatest hagge of hell what wicked tale hast thou presumde to tell Wretched blasphemous spirit of presumption Ougly in shape and horrible in sence Thou cursed substance of the souls consumption The heauens displeasure and the worlds offence That knowst no worth art not worth the knowing Rot in thy roote ere thou haue further growing Thou wicked witch fonde fortunes first deuiser To bring a desperate spirit to defame And by illusion first the soules surpriser That heares thy wordes and wil beleeue the same How durst thou once presume so neere this path where hatefull humor neuer passage hath Thou grounde of griefe heere is the grounde of grace Thou foule infection heere is fairest health Thou crosse of crosses heere is comfortes place Thou pitties want and heere is pitties wealth Thou dire impatience dole and deadly strife Curst be the death that stoppes the waie of life Whose blinded eies are barde all blessed light whose crooked knees are crampt for crafty creeping whose triple crowne in vertues humble sight will breake thy necke and rest in better keeping whose hart subdued by hande of heauenly strength Must liue in paine of neuer ending length Calst thou the rage of wil the rules of wit Is all the world ought els but vanitie who in the chaire of chaunging choise doth sit Knowes nothing of diuine humanity Nor in conceit can comfort truly measure That knows not pride the plage of high displeasure Humility high Angels happy thought while patience is the deuils purgatory Sorrow a fit for faithes phisitians wroughte while high heauens mercy endes worldes misery Fasting and praier happines procuring while true repentance is but hope enduring Then stoupe foule pride whom heauens did full subdue Know that thy crowne is cumming tumbling downe Vertue doth see how by Illusion grew The worldes disgrace to grace thee with a crowne Monarch of mischiefe such is all thy minde Nor hath he life that cummes of such a kinde His seruice freedome that made thee a slaue His seate alofte that makes thee lie full lowe His wante a welth that sees thee nothing haue His boorde a bed that makes thee watch for woe His almes sweete that saues the beggers teares while thou hast naught but cries to fill thine eares A poore conceite that starues for lacke of crums And yet will tell the worlde of delicates who ofte for hunger feedst vpon thy thumbes when death and sorrowe are thy hellish mates Faire wise riche learned valiant olde and young Take heede of pride and of his poisned tongue And with that worde I knowe not how it fell But downe the crowne came tumbling on the grounde when as
highest pleasure The heaunly courâ—… of the high king of kings where sacred spirits haue their speciall treasure And sweetest comfort of contentment springs God bring your sences by your harts desire To feele the comfort of his kingly fier THE COVNTESSE OF PENbrookes loue FAIRE in a plot of earthly paradise Vpon a hill the Muses made a Maze In midst whereof within a Phoenix eies There sits a grace that hath the world at gase which Phoenix is but name vnto a nature That shews the world hath scarcely such a creature This true loues saint by worthy beauty crowned Did seeme to wish but not expresse her will when straunge desires were in deuises drowned To finde out wonders farthest from her wil The worlde came in with presents many a one But yet alas her loue could like of none Cleare was the day when Phaebus shonne ful bright But her hartes eie did higher light aspire Aprill brought in both earth and Aires delight But earth nor Aire could answere her desire Fortune shee skornde friendes who durst be a foe Seruants a worlde would serue her will or no. Welth was buttrash and health was natures ioie Honour a Title beauty but a blast Power but a trouble pleasure but a toie Youth but a time to quickely ouerpast Learning alas it liueth in her schoole wisedome her will knowes worldly wit a foole Yet still she wisht but saide not what shee woulde when still the worlde did worke but still in vaine Care with conceite did all the best he coulde Brought in his giftes but bare them backe againe when welth helth beauty honor power nor ease wit youth nor learning could her humor please Some brought in pearles most orient to beholde Shee knew them pearles and so shee did regarde them Some brought in gemmes of diamondes set in golde Shee knewe their worth and so shee did rewarde them Some brought in workes of weomens rare deuises Shee knew their paines and so did giue the prices Some brought in musicke of most siluer sounde which all woulde cease if â—…hee but tucht astring Some brought in first the fairest flowers they founde Shee tooke them as the comforts of the spring Some brought in this and some woulde bringe in that But yet her wish was still shee knewe not what The souldiers came and brought in all their armes Shee smilde to see how beauty made a peace The pesants came and offred vp their farmes But shee saide loue did neuer make a lease The merchants came withall their mony treasure Shee put it off id did her minde no pleasure The lawiers came and laide downe all their bookes Shee knew that truth was all in yea and no The courtiers came with all their lofty lookes But when shee lookt she made them curtzy low The scholars came and brought in all their artes Shee knew their practise ere they learnd their partes The sailers brought their Rubies from the rocâ—…es But of such toies her treasure was to full The shepards brought the fairest of their flockes But shee coulde weare no cloth was made of woll Thus euery one did bring in what they coulde Yet still shee wisht but knew not what shee woulde The poets came and brought in their inuentions But well shee knew their fancies were but fained The muses brouhht the truth of their intentions which in their kindes were kindely entertained But yet the best with all her worthines Toucht not the humor of her happines But when the world could not come neare her wish And saw in vaine it was her will to seeke The earth coulde yeelde no fruite the sea no fishe That coulde be founde that might her fancy leeke Some with a sigh other with pitteous mone All went awaie and left her all alone They wil sweete loue is but the summe of wel Thy well is well wel better and the best That with thy loue thy liuing soules may dwell Safe in the hope of their eternal rest Thy rest the Ioie the soule cannot conceiue Thy soules the Saintes thy Mercy doth receiue Thy comfort is the tuch stone of true kindenes Thy kindenesse is the very life of loue Thy loue is light all other light but blindenesse Thy light is life that death can neuer proue Thy death was life thy life is Ioie for euer Vnto the soules that loue and leaue thee neuer VVhat was or is or on the earth shall be But that thou knowst and knowst al what they are And that they haue their beeing but in thee Made by thy hande and gouerne by thy care which thou dost prosper comfort or defende And when thou wilt shal wholy make an ende Grast is the King whom thou dost only crowne And wise the wit that only knowes thy wil Happy the state where thou dost blesse the towne And blest the hart that thou dost keepe from ill But yet the soule doth in her faith approue The life the life is onely in thy loue Shall I describe thy sweete and glorious seate But as thou art vnto thy seruants seene Or shall my spirite humbly elâ—…e entreate Some Angels help that in the heauens hath beene That to the world such glory may vnfolde Or saie it is too glorious to beholde Thy throne is Iudgement Iustice is thy sworde Mercy and truth are still before thy face Loue is thy law and wisedome is thy worde Vertue thy loue and Bounty is thy grace Pitty thy state where patience is the story Grace is thy gift and Mercy is thy glory Thus in the seate of sacred excellence With Virgins Saints and Angels all attended Dost thou possesse that princely residence Till Iudgement passe and Ioies be neuer ended When all the host of heauen and heauens do th sing An Alleluia to their heauenly king Where trembling Ioyes distill the teares of loue And louing feare doeth bring forth blushing faces And blushing faces in their faith approue Vnworthy creatures to behold their graces which graces doe this glorious musicke moue The life of life is in thy heauenly loue Now for thy loue it cannot turne to hate Thou hatest the life that once doth alter loue It is the staie of an eternall state A mansion house that neuer can remoue which on the rocke of true Religion standes And neuer feares the seas of errors sandes Now thy Religion is the rule of life whose chiefest blessing is the ioie of peace where loue cuts of the cause of euery strife And sweete accord doth bring out loues encrease And loues encrease is such a ioie to see As bringes the soule vnto his life in thee Alas alas all treasure is but trashe where loue is banisht by the state of strife The sweetest wine is but as swinish wash Vnto the water of the well of life No no the pleasures that the world can proue Are all but sorrowes to thy heaunly loue But let me see what fruite thy fauour yeeldes Or in thy loue what happy life is founde when sea and lande hils dales and fairest fieldes Doe all
on thy mercie let me onlie staie That my poore soule maie in thy comfort proue Lo what it is to liue but in thy loue Some wish for golde and some for golden graces Some wish for wit and some for worldely pleasure Some wish for power and some for stately places And some alone doe wish for worldely treasure But let my will those wishes all displace And wish alone thy fauour and thy grace Some in their chariots some in horses trust But be thou still a strong defence to me Some heere desire but to possesse their lust Let my soules loue be but to liue to thee Some wish but here to purchase worldly fame Let me but ioie to glorify thy name And not alone in sweetest wordes to moue The worldly eares to wonder at the same But in my workes thy praises I maie proue I doe but seeke the honour of thy name That all true soules maie iustly saie with me All that is good directly comes of thee Let me but tuch the garment of thy grace I shall be healed of my sickest sore Let me but looke vpon thy louing face Such health will come I shall be sicke no more Yea if thy mercy mi◅igate my paine If I were dead I shoulde reuiue againe Forget oh lorde the follies of my youth And giue me not the death of my desart But of the treasures of thy heauenly Truth Bestow an almes on my needy hart That in the secrets of thy sacred loue My carefull soule her comfort may approue Let not mine eare one listen to the sounde Of vaine conceits that but deceiue the minde Nor let the worlde so giue my hart a wounde That in my soule mine eie be stroken blinde But let my spirit onely make her choise But in thy loue and mercy to reioice Oh that my waies were all and whole directed Vnto the seruice of thy sacred will And that my faith had in my soule effected The happy comfort of that heauenly skill That in true loue might euer so attende thee As in default might neuer more offende thee That I might leaue this lothsome world of ours And chuse the honor of thy childrens awe And in thy heauen and with thy heauenly powers Learne but obedience to thy blessed lawe And with thy saints and holy Martyrs sing All lawde and glory to my heauenly king Then should my hart finde out my heaunly rest And sorrow then should tuch my soule no more But hart and soule both in thy mercie blest Should daie and night thy holy name dore And make the worlde by some effectes to see It is thy loue hath wrought this life in me And with that worde she sweetly fetch a sigh And then a sobbe and then a bitter teare As who should saie that either death was nigh Or els her hart was stroken with a feare Or els the spirit might be ouercome That for the time her tongue was stroken dumme But let it be all blessed is the traunce when so the soule is ouercome with loue That vertues choice doth finde it is no chaunce when humble faith doth heaunly fauour proue And when the sences from their sleepe arise The spirit findes the life that neuer dies So when it seemde shee waked from her sleepe Or sodaine traunce for so I tearme it right when such high care did so her sences keepe That shee awakt with glory of the light Oh sacred loue and sweetest life quod shee what happy figure hath appearde to me Did I beholde that fairest shining light That made me shake for feare to see thy face And weepe for ioie that in thy blessed sight My sinfull soule might come and sue for grace And did I see thy loue so sweetely vse mee That in thy mercy thou wouldst not refuse me And did thy mercy so thy loue entreate That iustice gaue her sworde to mercies hande And did thy mercy sit in iustice seate And did the iudgement in thy mercie stande Oh blessed loue where mercie doth approue The fruite of loue is mercie mercies loue I must confesse my conscience did cond◅mne me Of such offence as I coulde not denie And of such crime as thou migh◅st well contēne me when by my due I had deseru'd to die But when thy mercy did my sorrowe see How in thy pitty shee did pleade for me Beholde quod shee the true repentant hart which bleedes in teares with sorrowe of her sinne what passions haue perplexed euery part where penitence doth pitties suite beginne where true confession doth submission proue And true contrition cries to me for loue Beholde the faith that hath her fairest holde Vpon the gift of thy especiall grace Thy word of truth that to the world hath told The faithfull soule in heauen shall haue a place And true repentance shall by me obtaine The freed ioyes from euerlasting paine VVhen that vile serpent euery soules accuser That sought to bring my comforts to decay That ougly deuil al the worldes abuser In furies rage me thought did fly awaie And to the life but of thy mercy leaue me who to thy seruice sweetely did receiue me VVhen all thy Saintes and martyrs came vnto me And in their armes thine Angels did embrace me And all were glad what comfort they could doe me And in a seate of paradise so place me That al with ioie surprisde these ioies to see I wake and praie the vision true may bee For this is it sweete Lorde that I would haue The world is short in sounding my desire It is thy mercy that I onelie craue Thy vertues loue that set my hart on fire And in thy loue that onely liuing blisse That world may wish but know not what it is FINIS Errata Pag. 8 lin ◅ on for one p. 11. l. 2. end for sed l. 10. endings for sendings p. 28. l. 19. in gold her grace for her gold in grace lin 20. for worthines read worthles l. 21. lines for li◅es p. 40. lin 18. can offend me for offend me