When Golde doth faile Is learning tride When riches quaile Good letters bide The more tis prest The more it springs It is the best Of mundane things It bydth with thee Doe what thou wilt Till dead thou be And breath be spilt No burthen tis To charge thy back Most wretch he is That this doth lack Eche thing that groes Doth likewise die Still learning floes Aboue the skie Than knowlege craue Let riches go If this thou haue welth néedes must gro Of Auarice THe childishe yeres in youth doth take the parents trade And are full oft against their wils compelde by Fathers harde To Auarice so vilde in Lucres gaine to game And Father is a happie man when sonne such lyfe doth frame So secrete vice doth lurck with cloke of vertues face And gréedie gaine the shadowe shapes of thrift in godly race And so from Sire to sonne from sonne to thousands mo By fonde conceyte continually this cloked vice doth gro Thus eche man for himselfe And poore laments in thrall For rauening wolfes by gréedie gaine hath beggard deuill and all Thus one doth care for one and one doth learne by one Till lust be puft and chokte with gaine and eche man turne to none But poore and worldly wights shall neuer fréedome finde As long as men take goodes for Gods by gréedie hart so blinde Of blinde Cupide LYbido lewde hath fainde a God of loue Whose pestlent powre to blase which can anoy A title fierce is added through behoue A furious God an Archer blincking boy Whome Venus fonde doth make to range amisse Hir pretie boy hir proper sonne he is He rashly flies in vnaduised way Which heauens doe pierce by his so little hande Though least he bée he beares the greatest sway Of doubtie knights he hath a witlesse bande Alack good childe of wanton foolish crew Thou makst them fooles w t thy fond badge of blew O little boy thou shootes thy raging dartes Full well he paints that makes the bussard blind For right nor rule nor reason hath there partes Where fansies fond doth fire an yéelding minde What euer thou art all furies fierce that bée I rather wishe than meddle or make with thée To his Friend whose friendly loue he craueth O Doubtfull hap O paines and pangues y t moue Thou yet wāts yeres to féele my smarts of loue Mee rue take age alas to thinke on mée My earnest life and death is set on thée Hart true I giue though most y u wouldst me hate Untill hart breake in woes and staruing state I erst doe craue regarde me once or neuer Die though I must yet loue I thée for euer Time trieth all that flieth without retorne Nought swifter is then yeres y t kils things borne Whose stealing steps I wishe more fast to flo To make thée apt thy timely fayth to sho Time absent still we wishe to come and stay And thus vnwares we craue our dying day None is content his present state to sée Yet thou my friend content mayst onely mée And eke in time I hope thou wilt regarde For seruice true the seruant takes rewarde As time shall giue the tried trust of mee Accepted so let me thy seruant bee To D. M. I Craue who will not loue Who loues I cannot craue The thing that doth me moue I séeke and cannot haue Amids the flouds I stande And yet shall die for drinke Of foode great store at hande Yet hunger makes me shrinke To his Friend being absent shewing his good will THe hart that lyues in pensiue doubt His wished ioyes shut farre him fro He drawes his dolefull tunes full out In griefe in paines in cares and wo. And eke in thende it may befall So my vnluckie choyse to spie That guiltlesse hart thou make full thrall By thy decrée to liue or die Then flinted stones and barked trée The sauage beasts on mountaine bred Shall waile my wofull hap by thée As simple lambe to slaughter led My hart hath woonted ioyes resignde Reiecting all for cause of thée A grounded loue in yéelding minde Flées wit and shoonns vtilitée To one who after death woulde leaue his liuelie picture TO leaue behinde a picture fine to sée It may small time well stande in stéede for thée But picture faire of noble actes of minde That farre excelles to learne to leaue behinde Which will maintaine a noble name for aye As Tullis tongue and Caesars acts can saye As Chauser shewes and eke our morall Gowre With thousands more whose fame shal stil endure The destruction of many NIce handes poore stock hart stout for to sée No friends no skill bagges pennylesse bee And pride doth presse to passe the degrée These brings lewde heads to great miserie Being destitute of money the complaint to his Friend OF all the haplesse hap That chaunce to mortall fone Goldes want to stop a gap By proofe I finde is one No paine so sore doth freat No pinsons so can rent No smoking smart so great That makes the hart lament For emptie purse no game No foode no friende no cote For monie all doth frame Whose slaue we are by lote Where money friend doth faile There fawning friends be gone Farewell poore wretch all haile Light purse makes heauie mone These paynes by proofe be gest What neede examples cost Where purse is so deprest As clapt in Sampson post Stormes past yet soone retires And drowsie dumpes decay So God graunt iust desires To driue these plagues away The Louer describeth his trustie loue THough horse so wylde in thousand partes Should teare my corps most dolorous Though fryde I were w t piersing smarts And boylde in lead most piteous Though sworde should pierse my hart so colde In bloudy woundes my death to frame Though paine of hell to me were folde Most retchlesse wretch and yll by name Though thousand miles on foote I fare With naked legge in frozen stormes Though bloud of hart I spend in care Through countries farre in thousand harmes Though dread in feares doth worke dispaire And hope alone doth cherishe mée Yet rack that rendes eche lim so faire Shall not by smart take heart from thee An admonition to his Friend LEarne honest mirth in humble curtesie Let person time and place regarded be Serue God in hart and loue his statutes true Then thée with goods and heauen he will indue Flee ydlenesse alwaies to labors frame Of thone comes good of thother sinne and shame He craueth regarde of the cares he taketh THe crooked clowne that drawth the plowe with all his yerely toyle Receiues at last rewarde of worke bestowed on fertile soyle And shall my paines and restlesse woes thus vnrewarded bée Shall I be prest in simpler sort and vylder case then hée The fethred foule that flées aloft obtaines the things he seekes And sundrie where his fostring foode with chirping bill he péekes Estéeme me so Desirous to requite for manie giftes one to his deare beloue NO man of sturdie thornes doth séeke the swelling
townes it drawes to ground at length Refuse therefore suche mate to matche though faire she be of face For inward vice with colours spreade doth outward vewe disgrace No credit giue to other men to choose a wife of fee For oft that other men displeasth may pleasaunt séeme to thée If loue be linckt and mate be curst and bende hir frowning brow Applie thy tongue to sugred spéeche that she may leaue to crow Exhort perswade desire entreat and praye hir still to be Embrace hir corps in louing armes and friendly amitie And swéetely kisse hir cherrie chéekes with gentle giftes hir deck And close thy handes most louingly about hir Iuorie neck Thus séeke all sayes hir sore to salue by good and honest way If this help not but froward fem will stiffely stande astray Then pleasant spéech suppresse and faine a sower vnsauerie looke As though thou wouldst deuour the walles and hang the house on hooke With bitter words beswindge this dame let no perswasion lack Let homely stripes sometimes on fall on yong vnrulie back But modest be thy strokes to strike let reason rule thy rate If fewe serue not hir hart to help thou mayest repent to late Take faythfull spouse of humble hart and graft in godly grace Graue wise discréete lernd méeke and one that beautie beares in face Who doth forgo hir deerest friendes and parents leauth eche one Hir selfe by troth shée fréely plight to husbands powre alone In kylling cares both sicke and whole shée faythfull is to thée Shée is thy ioy and comfort swéete though rich or poore thou bée Shée will obey at all commaundes in stormes and cruell smart In mirth in griefe in pouerishment shée bydes and takes hir part If fierce disease shall crase thy corps hir wylling helpe she dightes She cherisheth thée she sweetely speakes shée watchth both dayes and nightes When crooked age shall créepe on thée with stealing steps so blife Shée still prouides shée runnes and goes to heale thy sicklye life Of bodies two one corps is made so linckt in lotted loue Which streming stormes and bitter blast can not by paines remoue Yea after death shee life doth lende when pale thou rotst in grounde In sonnes by hir thy formed face may alwayes plaine be founde So that thy corps and shape be forme with long retayned name Doe florish fresh as springs the flowre to thy long byding fame But who so lapt in lyuing lewde with harlots vile remaine These fruits doth lose with name and fame and spends his goodes in vaine Defame shall eke abridge his dayes corruption corps shall slay And lyuers lewde sure God will iudge no doubt another day When as the vyle and stinking Goates shall passe to endlesse woe To fierie forkes and flames of hell in Limbo lake byloe By proofe these rules of mariage I doe not surely know But men of more experience the same to me did sho Which I for thée my tried friend by paine of simple quill Haue rudely set in this poore verse for want of cunning skill Fewe care for the soule all for the body WHen as the crased corps in groning bed doth lie The skilfull art of phisicks cure is sought for by and bie Which right prescribeth rules that thou must needes obserue By passing paines which thou doest kéepe though thou therefore shouldst sterue Such bitter brunts thou bearst thy bodies health to haue But who will take a little toyle his sicklie soule to saue No carnall men in cares are carnally ybent All gape for gaine there is no God but God make vs repent To his Friend Tho. Howell WHere oft the flouds doe floe vpon the beaten banck Their sandes debarre the grasse to groe to spread his Aprill spranck And where the sonne doth march vpon the greened grasse In time it will the pasture parch as though it neuer was So where the sonne bright friends my Howell hauntes to hit There vsed lyfe in present winds will kéeper cleane forget Their daylie flouds of talke shall ouerflow thy grasse That kéeper hath obliuious walkt as though he neuer was And reason tis I meane why shouldst thou kéeper kéepe Since thou mayest lose in keeping him that nothing can but sléepe For sléepish dumps me shut from taste of cunning stile Nor can I boult my rudenesse out which lies on rustie file Yet holde in mindefull moode our auncient amitie For faithfull friends giue present salue for all the cares that be An aunswere NOt floing floudes the féeble banck that frets Nor swelting heat whose flames y e pastures fry Nor slipprie sande which faint foundation lets Thy Howell once maye cause from thée to wry Ne shall the show of shining sunne bright friend By vsed lyfe or phrase of filed talke Haue powre to put my kéeper out of minde Whose tryed truth may not obliuious walke And where thou seemst to say that sluggish sléepe Hath shut thée forth from tast of learned lore From out they muse as from a Fountaine déepe Doth flowe the fruites of Ladie learnings store Thy wyt thy workes thy verse and stately stile Thy wayes thy déedes who well doth scan vew Shall finde therein nought forste with rustie file Though I want skil to giue thée praise thats dew Our lincke of loue and friendship fixt so fast Thy Howell howldes whylst lim life shall last The vanitie of riches THe stately Pallace princely pight the hoord of glistering Golde The patrimonie largde of landes cannot from sicknesse holde Nor can they cure the crased corps or glad the minde at all For who hath most of such a store the more he feares as thrall Gold is the father to the flock of flatterers by lot It is the summe of griefe or woe who bath or hath it not For who it hath he quakth in feare lest fortune rob his thrift Who hath it not laments bicause he knowes not how to shift Wherefore of riche or poore I iudge as wisedome small I hent In best estate is he with his that liues alwayes content An Epitaph made vppon the death of the right Honorable the Lady Gartrid late Countesse of Shrewisburie THe steling sting of gasping death that byth by fatall force To bring vnto the wailed graue this Countesse courteous corse Had thought to thrust his spitefull speare to wounde this Fem to die And quite to dim this glorious Gem the flower of courtesie And cloth hir corps in shrowding shéete to woorke hir endlesse wo But O thou death thou art deceaude for that is nothing so Nor canst thou mar or stop the trumpe that soundes hir during fame More health then harme more blisse then bale to hir by thée there came For she hath light in lasting life of endlesse ioyes ywis So where thou thoughst to spoute thy spite thou hast hir brought to blisse So enuie gaue thée not the power thy malice madde to fill But thou hast done this Countesse good vnwares against thy will For nowe hir noble name shall byde in sounder soueraigntie And
debate Such is the slender thréed of mortall fate To his Friende BEware my friende Liue warylie At back behinde Pale death doth prie Eche howre and space Account the last Let Lampe of grace With Oyle be fast Then shalt thou stande In ioyes to raigne When Uirgins fonde Shall knock in vaine God graunt vs all To liue so right That when he call Our Lamps giue light Describing his lost of libertie and crauing returne of loue ONce frée I was at libertie My merrie minde was voyde of woe My hart had great felicitie I passed not for Cupids bowe Thus frée most frée in ioyfull prime I passe the sportes of youthfull time Untill thy vewe as Goddesse grace In heauenly shape that did appéere Had hent my hart in captiue case Such was thy voyce such was thy chéere That thy fine forme of natures frame The Gods aboue might well inflame It Venus past in forme and face Thy corps thy lims eche part so fine Thy chéerefull chéekes thy gentle race Thy curteous hart thy wit deuine That hart did smart in heauie part My fréedome fled bounde was my hart When first I cast my carelesse eye Upon thy hue that drue the dart I little thought thou shouldest lye So déepe sunck downe in my poore hart I would full faine forgo my holde My frée estate by wit to folde As birde alurde in winters sore On limed twigges that often bée Thinkes he is frée as late before Untill he sayes his flight to flée He cries he flies in vaine he tries On twigge in bondage there he lies So I by lure of thy good grace That thought my hart at libertie Was wrapt vnwares by featurde face With most extreme captiuitie A Beautie hath me bondman made By loue sincere that shall not vade Alas my panting hart so sore That doth lament in sobbing teares Most greedie gripes doe prick and gore To groning graue my corps that weares My cares and griefes doe rack my vaines Consider thou my restlesse paines Alas most faire and péerelesse gem Haue mercy now draw pittie néere And count me not the least of them That loue thée best in hart sincéere So thou that madste my wound so wyde Shalt for the same a salue prouyde My Ladie faire ah Ladie dere Perpend in hart my dolors great And looke vpon thy prisonere Whose chaines hath through his hart yfreat And let not want of welth in place Retract thy loue to runne his race He accuseth his tongue WHy fearefull tong what menst thou thus To fayle thy maisters paines to paint In matters vaine and friuolous Thou runst at rainge néedes restraint But fewer wordes my greater paine The greater paine the sooner ende The sooner ende the better gaine For lesse offence shortst life doth lende When he thought himselfe contemned O Hart why dost thou sigh and wilt not breake O dolefull chaunce thou hast a cause thereto For thy rewarde in loue and kindnesse eake Is recompenst by hate and deadly wo. Haue I so plight my heart and minde to thée Haue I béene bent so whole vnto thy hande And others now obtaine the fruit from me Thou art vnkinde forsooth such foe to stande O dolefull hart thus plungde in pinching paine Lament no more but breake thy truth to trie For where thy comfort was and ioy did raigne Now hate returnes no newes O hart now die Lo thus the bréeding birdes their nests do builde But others take the gaines and fruites of them The crooked clowne so earth the toyling fielde But oft the crop remaines to other men Well time may come wherein my fruitlesse part So ill bestowde some others may bewaile And wish they had receiude my yeelding hart Whose louing roote tooke grounde to small auaile To his friende JN hart and minde Your owne am I Till death by kinde Shall force to die Good vertues plant Let truth take place Where that doth want There is no grace Being sore sicke aunswereth his felowe enquiring whether he were willing to die WEe flourish now but flower shall fall and withered fade as frayle As yeres returnes so length of time causeth man and beast to quaile Now Lady Ver in liuely gréene doth showe hir grace in fielde Now Estas spreads the parching heate That Titans beames do yelde Now Autumne shewes the haruest sheaues that growe on fertill place Now Hiemps heapes the dyke with snow and shewes hir frostie face So first we spring in lustie youth at state of childish yéeres Now déeper wit as Estas ripes in grauer acts appéeres Then manhood makth a stabled minde none youthly prancks we haue Now hored age with stealing steps créepes in prepare thy graue And thus we fleete and fall away aswell the yong as olde Then youthfull impe trust not on yeres short life may make thée colde And thus by course and chaunge of time things mortall chaunge their way One age doth passe an other comes loe Time will all decay For thin is twist or fatall threed on mortall whéele so spoon Deathes howre may chaunce vnhoped for to lose that life hath woon Then why shoulde I once feare to die our byding is not héere But earth shall rot in earth againe till righteous iudge appéere When worlde and worldly things shall passe but God shall dure for aye Whose grace I craue with hart and soule on whome I stande and staye Now stretch my steps O Lord to run by length of time to bee That I may liue to die a right and die to liue with thée An admonition to his friende IF thou wilt be rightfull Alwayes stande thou faithfull To doe well be carefull Note friends and be thankfull Uaine talke flee and learne wit Marke wise wordes and loue it Alwayes pray and boast not Eschue pride and vaunt not Hate no man disdaine not Take time and sleepe not Each vertue traine iustlie Regarde betters wiselie Offende no Wight wronglie And declare alwaies truelie So God then will loue thee And good men will prayse thée When vertue shall clad thée All fame shall embrace thée Vse Vertue DOe well abstaine from vice obey thy parents will Remember God and learne be wise imbrace swéete vertue still Marke God before thy face vprise and pray betime No ydle howre let passe séeke grace detest all heauie crime Trie ere thou trust take héede haue God thy chiefest gaine Estéeme the time before all méede and godly lyfe retaine Alwayes let vertues rule to thy good rest If grace shall growe within thy youthfull brest At his Friends departure MY Muse which once with ioyfull voice to thee should welcome tell Alas to late as now she comes more fit to bid farewell But since my dolefull farewell must approch in welcomes stéede And eke at parture hence from me welcome should yll procéede High Ioue I praye thou mayst farewell alwayes in prosperous rase And eke in ioyes to make returne that welcome may haue place Of Knowledge WHen death is bent Yet stands thy praise For life once spent Wit fame doth raise
after death doth vertue liue O death in spight of thée For she of grace the garlande gay in goodly giftes did weare Whose flowres do now in children wise of Talbots line appéere Of Rutlandes race she noblie sprang and linkt with péerlesse pearle Of Shrewisburie who bare the name a noble worthy Earle Whome she hath left behinde among the blessed branches fine The worthy imps that sprang of them as of a vertuous Uine To poore she was a pleasant port to all a helpe she came By teares that haue beene spent for hir the poore haue shewde the same O noble hart whose Well of grace shall spring and neuer drie Who being hie didst bend thy brest vnto the poorst degrée Unto the weake shée was a strength vnto the hungrie foode Unto the rude a lamp of light vnto the wisemen good Unto the youth she was a guide vnto the aged ioy Unto the noble ornament vnto the blinde a way In towne she was a shyning starre for hir all better were In Countrie ioy at home a glasse to vewe in gladding chere Hir beautie great hir vertues greatst that sprang as flagrant flowres Alas what treasure haue we lost for all the losse is oures For she hath gainde O Death by thée but we haue shipwrack made And nowe in earth our helpe is lapt our light is turnde to shade O what a losse so many giftes of grace so lost in one For which eche wight that knew hir well cannot but greatly mone But drie ye vp your dréerie teares she liues without anoy O comely courteous Countesse now farewell O Iem of ioy Farewell O spring of vertues swéete farewell of help the store Both high and low bewaile thy want farwell for euermore Of ingratitude WHo rightly scans what thing is greatest gréefe And seekes by proofe the truth therof to trie Shall surely finde ingratitude the chéefe Surmounting farre eche other wo on hie Whose freting force when friendlie wight shal féele All mirth and ioy to care doth straight conuart Yea weare the hart of craggie flinte or stéele It scarse coulde shoonne to waile such bitter smart Who therfore séekes by paines to please the prowd Unthankefull wight compared well may bée To hym that kepes a Cur which barkes as lowde At Feaders face as when he foe doth sée Or Viper eke who long with carefull thought In wofull wombe hir tender younglings feedes By whome at last hir balefull bale is wrought Through their ingrate and most vnfriendly déedes Whose nature is to worke the place most griefe Where they in time haue had full great reliefe Of all ingrate loe héere the gotten gaine And onely hyre for well deserued paine Of Death SInce death doth leade to lyfe And lyfe is lasting ioy ▪ To stay why make men strife Where nought is but anoy Answere WHy men such strife doe sowe To staye in place of paine Where you the cause would knowe I gesse its worldly gaine And since the fleshe is fraile Eche weake and féeble wight When death doth once assaile Resistes with all their might Then blame not wealthie wights Which knowes of néede no lack But lyue in déepe delights To die though they drawe back When néedie soule in déede Of death doth stande in dréede To one that faine would speede yet doubtfull to proceede AS Cat would faine eate fishe Yet loth hir foote to wet So lyest thou still and wishe Where trauaile gaine should get That labor first brings gaine Thou seest by little Ante Who through whot Sommers paine Doth shoon colde winters wante The swéete that Bee doth suck Comes not by lying still The grapes for wine men pluck Are gote by trauailes skill The Marchant eke men know Great goods by trauaile gaines The Plowman séede doth sow To reape rewarde for paines Not wishe I say therefore But trauaile wealth doth winne Who so then will haue store By trauaile must beginne Strong monstrous mounts to réele Rough craggie rocks to rent And eke the sturdie stéele Oft trauaile makes relent For trauaile is the way Eche noble gift to gaine Use therein no delay And spare thou not for paine For who so paine doth spare To speake where he would spéede And makes eche doubt his care A dastarde is in deede The Louer being in the Countrie showeth his good will to his Ladie in the Court. THough corps in Countrie bée in Court my countnance is My ioy my care my lyfe my death mine endlesse bale or blis My pleasure pine and paine my helpe my harme also My griping griefe my greatest gaine my friend and eke my fo And doubtfull though to some to scan this case may séeme Yet you I know no wisedome want much déeper doubts to déeme Wherefore I will omit my minde at large to tell Lest by the way some watchman lay to ring the larome bell Such spightfull spiders snares I aye doe seeke to shonne As not the foolishe flie betraies but greater harmes haue done Who pufte with poyson strong like Momus mates doe still Some discorde cause and bate in place where else might grow good will But let them worke their worste looke what I haue profeste If you commaunde I will performe I spare to speake the rest And so I doe conclude and cease my ragged rime As he that skill of schoole doth want Pernasus mount to clime To his Friend R. H. WIth hatefull hawtie haunt not For dainefull dizards daunt not For witlesse vaunters faint not For truthlesse taunters taint not For spitefull spiders spare not For curious carpers care not But Hussie as thou hast begunne Holde on thy race in vertue runne The Louer to his L. THe fierie flames that fast on me doe flowe The secret sighes that wast my wofull brest The ysie colde I féele like flakes of snowe The hidden harmes that breede my great vnrest By fancies force doe cause such troublous tyde That ship now shakes which late in roade did ride Answere WHere reason rules affection fonde doth flie And bewties beames no bitter bale may breed Where wisedome will by vertues skill doth tie Cupidoes flames are quenched forth with spéed Let reason then thy will by wisedome guide So shalt thou safely shonne this trembling tide Golde corrupteth THough most where welth doth flowe Men fayning friendship showe Yet faythfull friend in déede Is knowne in time of neede Aunswere BUt nowe we féele and finde A thing to true in déede Where man be foe or friende The Golde and goods shall speede For vertues all are shut Unto the lower place And money loft is put Eche learned head to face If money none thou hast Thou art not worth a flie Thy credit cleane is past All vertues husht doe lie A learned man but poore Is counted doting foole Wise Virgill stands at dore To goe againe to schoole Yet once I hope to sée All money go for drosse And vertue high to bée To winne hir wrongfull losse A Poesie EStéeme a friend Let vertue crease In friendly minde Sometime is
peace As flowers spring But sone doe fall Euen so eche thing Terrestriall Hope feedeth hart Ere loue take place Bréede not a smart Right to disgrace As ioyfull lot Doth me assigne By goodnesse got O ioy is mine Uaine nay if mée Refuse me héere Nay sone shall see Eche wounde me téere The vncertaintie of this worlde AS Player playes on stage till parte be done So man alike his race one earth doth runne To day alyue in silkes and fine aray To morrow dead and cladde with clot of clay Of earthly things loe here the slipper stay A diet prescribed to his Friend G. MY friend to holde thy harmlesse helth a diet must thou keepe As phisicks Art shall thée instruct men first did learne to créepe Abstaine thou still to féede thy fleshe which swelles in pampred pride Tabstaine from sinne a meane there is as fathers olde haue saide And first all noysome lothed meate that white is doe eschewe As lime and paper tallow chalke and from all partchment newe From all meat sharp as dagger swords with kniues and sharped speares From black as tarre and tarre box pitch and sut that chimney smeares From hard that cannot well disgest as milstone timber flint But chiefly flie a female foole O woes that doe not stint From all meate light as fethers flocks fine downe and sifted haye From heauie things as lead and tinne with brasse and yron aye From all meate soft as wooll and flaxe bombaste and winds that bloe From things but grosse as stéeples towres trées walles and manye moe From things but leane as rakes and forkes with wodcocks billes and braine With pothookes potled whetstone smoth all these are vices vaine Alution O be not white through enuious wrath against the captiues wise Nor be thou sharpe to sorrow them least black as pitch thou rise Nor be thou hard vnto the poore nor light to credit lies Nor heauie be to presse downe wyt till truth the matter tries Go not to soft in slothfull sort to men of antique store And leaue the wyttes that grosser be which are but leane in lore Pluck downe no house nor pen things false nor grease thy booke with glose Seeke no mans death by enuious sting for witlesse men be those Flée doctrine false which makes thée black to lurck in lothsome hell Séeke not to farre that God hath hid fooles braines be neuer well Let chastitie prayer abstinence direct a christian shéepe No Pastor light Christs flock must haue but men most graue them keepe Depaire no Church nor auncient acte in building be not sloe Conuey you not to other realmes the fruites that héere doe groe Flée foolishe guides that roue at large which truthlesse tongue doe straine As potled tales they prate aloft so thende will proue but vaine To fast and pray to help the poore to profite all with good This is a healthfull phisick note to stop the lustie blood The Rose WHen as the myldest Month of ioly Iune doth spring And Gardens gréene with happy hue their famous fruites doe bring When eke the lustiest time reuiueth youthly blood Then springs the finest featurde flowre in border fayre that stood Which moueth me to say in time of pleasant yéere Of all the pleasant flowres in Iune the red Rosse hath no péere Of Golde O Gracious Golde Whose glittring hie Doth chéere and holde Eche gazing eie The sweete delight That dwelles in thée Doth spoyle eche spight And pouertie It liftes aloft Who late was loe And foole makes oft For wiseman goe What ioy what gaine What worldly thing Doth want to them That Golde doe bring Gold buildeth townes Golde maketh ioy Gold cheereth clownes Golde quelth anoy Golde all can doe Golde raignes alone Alas what woe Where Golde is none Which I poore wyght By proofe doe sée Which gladly séeke That will not bee But well I weare If I might catch White siluer cléere Which all men snatch The louer forsaken bewayleth his estate O Drooping hart deprest with deadly care whose stretched strings be crackt in péeces smal ▪ Thy secret sighes thy panting oft declare What heauie hap in wo to thée did fall Now crie thou clapt in chaines as captiue thrall What hart can ioy alas in miserie To beare the blasts that well he would not sée The burdened Asse doth know his crib by course The yoked Oxe doth smell his strawie stall The ridden horse the maunger giues remorse But my poore hart no salue may heale at all Whome furious force aye threatneth fearce to fall What shall I say the time eche truth shall trie Till then I waile my woe with wéeping eie Down déepe doth droope my dread most dolorous O hart dispatch to ende my hidden paine Shall good for harme be had in credite thus Eche honest minde with ratling rage to straine Then farewell ioy welcome my woes againe O what a woe is this in griefe to grone And waile the want where helpe I sée is none Being betweene two doubtes he taketh aduisement MY pen now plie thy pase thy maisters paines to paint For hart now set in doubtfull case begins to fall and faint Now wyt declare thy might now hands and learning shoe What best for me a wofull wight that wéepes and wayles in woe Much better tis to stay than clime and take no holde And rashly graunt by deadly lure vnto hir loue so colde For where two mindes are matchte and thone no loue will beare There is nought else but sorrowes hatcht Thy restlesse life to weare What vailes the glittring Golde when loue is forcde to flee And match with hir that others holde and nought regardeth thée And she thy eyes so blacks by wile of subtile kinde That though thou see hir craftie knacks yet will she make thée blinde Though thousands thou possest and harte doth holde in hate All shall decay by wretchednesse for yll will bréedeth bate But where as loue remaines and discord put to flight There springs the fount of ioyes and gaines and concord stands in might There is the Paradise and Pallace eke of peace Where things but small of simple prise to valoures great encrease But out alas I die a wretch in daungerous doubt I sée that death before mine eie hath siedgde me round about For hart that loues me best I cannot loue againe And she who causeth mine vnrest considereth not my paine Loe howe can I escape Alas what remedie The Gods haue sure sworne my mishap betwéene these golfes to die To bruse my baned bones betwixt these raging rocks In doubt of life I make my mones and beare the cruell strokes But hart thy selfe content to frie and fréese a while Though fickle fate be froward bent yet fortune once maye smile He sheweth his restlesse minde tormented for want of reliefe ALone who sailes the foming floodes in ship that wants a guide In stormie streames thundring showres in darke and trembling tide Doth feare the harmes of gaping golfes and renting rocks doth mone And wayles his most
vnhappie state in teares and hartie grone So I vphoyst by wyffling windes in worser state then hee Doe bide the brunt of bitter blastes and all alone for thée Alone for thée this seruile yoke on labring neck I beare For whome I oft doe wishe to die me wretched wight to weare I waile in teares the whole day long as my poore hart doth know At night againe my bed I washe with sobs of dolefull show Ierie and mone I rage and runne no foode delite my part No Musick note or harmonie can help my helplesse hart O spill me not that yéelde to thée if ought misdone I haue By great entreate and humble sule my pardon here I craue If mercie none thou hast then giue thy dreadfull dome forth on And sone thou shalt of man condemnde sée execution Libertie corrupteth youth BY licence lewde we still are worse When youthfull harts do rauÌ„ge their corse Whose life to launche at libertie Brings riche estate to poore degrée The languishing Louer to his Ladie HEalth I thée sende if he may giue that which himselfe doth misse For thy swéete brest doth harbour whole my bloudy bale or blisse I néede no scribe to scrie my care in restlesse rigour spread They that beholde my chaunged chéere alreadie iudge me dead My baned limmes haue yeelded vp their wonted ioy to die My helthlesse hande doth nought but wring and drie my dropping eie The deathly day in dole I passe a thousand times I craue The noysome night againe I wishe the dolefull day to haue Eche howre to me most hatefull is eche place doth vrge my woe No foode me féedes close vp mine eie to gastly graue I goe No phisicks arte can giue the salue to heale my painefull parte Saue onely thou the salue and sore of this my captiue harte Thou hast the forme that cut the wound of my vnholpen paine Thou canst and art the onely helpe to heale the same againe In thée my wealth in thée my woe in thee to saue or spill In thée my lyfe in thée my death doth rest to worke thy will O salue thou then my secret sore sith helth in thée doth stay And graunt with speede my iust request whose want workes my decay Bicause no aunswere was returned in long time WHen shall this néedlesse silence ende thy péeuishe pen to trie Why shall the wounde vnstopped bléede in woe continuallie Correct this fault this onely one then all thy bodie blest Shall haue no spot or fault at all for noble is the rest H. to K. his Friend O Friend in truth to trie thy cunning skill I craue To helpe and cure my carefull case that brings my corps to graue To thée I doe confesse the griefe that gripes my hart For lacke of that which some possesse my countnance may me smart Though nought I feare dispaire yet giue me salue for sore My handes my hart my might my minde are fixt for euermore I. K. to his Friend H. WHat néedst thou thus to crie and care before the stroke doth fall And eke to séeke a sauing salue where is no wounde at all To for sée lurcking euilles in time yet counte I wit discreete To bende thy bowe ere broyle be made also I déeme it méete But passe thou not for moltring muck the pestlent poole of woe No griefe no grudge no broyle or bate but doth from pennie groe The graue and wise Philosophers as Serpents fled the same And wilt thou then a christen man therewith go spot thy name Euen now me thinks I heare thy sounde soft bussing at mine eare Which sayes necessitie compelles to get thys worldly geare For when we want who well may liue But if we bound in store Commodities then offreth made a salue for euery sore Our credite eke the same doth crease our friends the better are Who méetes riche man but him salutes cap of and head full bare If thou haue goods thou mayst obtaine thy worthie countnance bent Alas my friend ist lack of drosse that bréedes thée wrong contempt No no not so I answere thée necessitie is small With little store is nature fed it craues no hoord at all Nor shalt thou want but mayst liue well though not aboundance floe He sâ—ekes no meane that still is bent on hilke heapes to groe If great be welth yet none be thine a stewarde God thée made If none thou hast lament thou not but rather be thou glade Bicause thou cleane deliuered art of great and heauie pack And eke thou hast another day a lesse account to make But hope thou well the sparrowes small our God hath care to sée And thinkst thou then O faythlesse man that God forgetteth thée Can riches make thée wiser man or good or learned more Or vertuous or yonger man alas these helps be poore But men will kneele and crouch to thée loe yet howe fonde we play They honor not thy person man but goodes and clothes so gay But goods get friends but none of thine they faune and flatter frée If fortune frowne these trustie gestes will scantly stande to thee The truth it selfe hath verified a richmans case to trie What Camell can créepe out wyth ease euen at a needles eie What store of welth enriched thée when from the earth thou came What riches eke shall follow thée returning to the same Therefore my friend content with skill to cheere thy grieued minde For want of vile and clammy clay will countnance be vnkinde No vertues shall maintaine thy store that neuer shalt thou lack Shall pelting trashe a worthie hart from earnest loue driue back Then let not want of welth that rottes so pinch in pyning plight No glittring Golde no heaped horde can vertue put to flight Thy wit thy works thy hart and grace thy skilfull head so wise Thy iust reporte by vertue gote thy hidden qualities Which lurcking lie in brest of thine but once I hope the same Shall take the roote to spring abroade to crease thy gentle name What shall I say I will omit with pen thy praise to paint Thou hast the goodes that euer dure my friend then doe not faint Dispaire thou not for thou hast more then well thy selfe doste know No welth thou wantst that true welth is receyue this salue I shoe If I could get to thy content though Venus face she had Though Pallas powre though Iunos wit in péerelesse iewels clad Though all the goodes of Arabie with thousand thousands frée She did possesse oh trust me well yet would I giue hir thée For would she haue a prudent spouse in safetie sounde to bée If I should choose by practise proude beléeue me thou art hée A Poesie SMall tyme hath man on earth to stay In time therefore take heede I say Another AS Flowres freshe to day To morrow in decay Such is thuncertaine stay That man hath here alway The Louer whose loue begonne in time of spring declares howe natures force then workes in euery thing ALl things on earth doe
much reioyce In swéete returne of pleasant spring The birds declare by their shrill voice When ioyfully they sit and sing What pleasures great they take and finde without anoy of storme or winde The nightingale then steps in place Whose cunning tunes excéede the rest The slaundrous birde eke showes hir face In euery nooke as bolde as best The creking Crow and carrion Kight Not passe the spring without delight The Dooues which Venus birds men call And other fowle of lande and lake Full well doe knowe the time is fall Wherein eche thing doth wishe a make Wherefore as nature them doth binde Eche one a Feere fayles not to finde The Robine small and péeping Wren The Tidie trim and Titmus éeke Full fast themselues doe couple then And spares no sporte that doth them leeke The Sparrow hops from spray to spray Where he with Hen hath pleasant play Eche beast also away doth shake His weather worne and winter hue And chéerefully their chosen make With happie hope doe past persue The wretched wormes to ioyne in ioy In pleasant spring are nothing coy Sith natures force doth this appéere In birdes and beastes which be but brute To graunt him grace why should you feare Whome liking leads to tempt his sute Who séekes but that among the rest Which natures lawe doth him behest A Poesie WHere vice abounds and vertue doth abate No one thing stayes in good or happie state Flie vice therefore and vertue doe imbrace Which will thée heaue vnto the highest place Being vexed with the care of the worlde be comforteth himselfe MY phantasie tormenteth mée for worldly thing to care How to prouide mine age to guide some stedfast land to beare Eche time of day these cares me stay but all I sée is vaine My braines to beat these goodes to get not one will ease my paine For euerie man doth what he can to ridde himselfe from iagges And some by hooke and some by crooke doe fill their gréedie bagges All honestie is forst to flie and lawes doe holde their peace They care not how so goods doe grow their worldly carks to presse A thousand slights eche daies and nights in head I doe conceaue Yet none I finde can serue my minde my worldly woes to leaue For if I lack and bare be back though wyt and grace be great Yet credit dies and worship flies no friends then shalt thou get For nowe they doe estéeme men so as riches mounts on hie The godly minde they set behinde and vertues all doe lie These things doe warne to voyde the harme some welth in youth to peeke But yet alas I Midas Asse this geere in vaine doe séeke But why should I thus wofullie in cares my yeres dispende The thing to sée that will not bée vntill that God it sende Marke well in plight the birds so light that finely fed doe sing They reape nor sow nor plow nor moe they want no earthly thing And vewe eche howre the little flowre and Roses freshe that groe They carde nor spin on spindle thin their common déeds to shoe Yet Salomon that Prince alone in all his royaltie Was not so gay as one of they of péerlesse soueraigntie Short time God lend our lyfe to spende in this most wretched vale For space of howre scant stande we sure from dart of death so pale The yong truelie as sone may die as men of elder age All things are fraile and all shall quaile as fire shall them discharge All dignitie is daunger hie and pouertie is harde All welth is doong no ioyes be long why shoulde I then regarde The man is blest that lyues at rest in his estate content Who lacks no things what more haue kings of all his landes and rent I sée full plaine that some whose paine haue hoorded riches great By sodaine glay are whipt away for paines no fruite they get Then phantasie torment not mée for humaine things so scant God will foresée for his that bée they othing shall not want Of Degrees THe higher estate the greater feare The greater welth the lesser cheare The poore degrée that liues content He sings although his goods be spent And who can sing so merrie a note As he that cannot change a grote That men ought to be promoted to dignitie onely by worthie deedes NOt long discent and name doth make a noble king But noble hart and factes of fame his royall state shall bring Nobilitie deflowres when déedes can get no grace To hoast and bragge of auncestors it is a witlesse case For noble déedes of them account not for thy factes For thy owne deeds shall thée commend and not an others actes Nor men deserue the crowne and doubtie diademe By birth or welth lesse skill redowne by vertues great in them For Fortune may as then make kings as pleaseth her Since she the riche and noble men to scarlets can prefer But greatest golde giue place to vertue left so frashe For golde wise men that knowe the case doe count but trifling trashe In hartes be princes bolde and not in golden chestes For that man rules and is not rulde when this man ruled is Nor bewtie faire can blase a kingly honour hie For that doth vade as flowres doe fall and sone that grace will die Let courage stoute replie and valiant hartes inflame By puissance aduentures trie thy famous factes to frame Now sacked Troy is brent by proofe of pollicies He is not méete of kings discent that like a cowarde flies Therefore he is a king that like a king doth guide And though no kingdome be for him yet he is king in déede A Poesie STraūge sight to sée what toyle some worldings take For slipper slime y t sone wil them forsake Whose gréedie guttes no reason may suffice The muck on mowlde so blinded hath their eies Another SMall thing that righteous doth possesse More worth than wickeds great excesse The Louer to his L. WHen that he sawe of worthie fame chaste spouse by tried trade Who can depaint the passing game that then Vlisses made When Paris got the Iem of Greece his sportes surpassed then Who brought hir home a flowre of price vnto his Countrie men With ioyes the Nightingale gan rayse hir right recorded song Wherein she gettes the péerlesse prayse The bushie birdes among The Marchant made with windy sailes that richely turnes againe Doth ioy for gaine of his auailes escaping déeper paine The warde and heire of noble landes when as his yeres are gone Is glad he scapes his tutors handes for which he gaped long Yet I in ioyes surmount them all and more it pleaseth mee That to my hap thy lotte did fall as best it pleased thee For thée then is my ioyfull parte and eke to doe thée good Here thée inclosde I hide my harte and brewe my hartie blood Wherein such liuely loue beholde that pen cannot expresse Nor can my tongue the same vnfolde my wyts descrie much lesse No truthlesse tales in thy dispraise that
faithfull loue whose want breedes mine anoy Remember yet the friendly wordes ypast betwéene vs twaine Forget him not for loue of thée that sighes in secret paine I oft doe séeme in companie a gladsome face to beare But God thou knowst my inward woes and cares that rent me there And that I may gush out my griefe in secret place alone I bid my friends farewell in hast I say I must be gone Then hast I fast with heauie hart in this my dolefull case Where walkes no wight but I alone in drowsie desart place And there I empt my laden hart that swelde in fretting mone My sighes and plaint and panges I tell vnto my selfe alone What shall I say doe aske me once why all these sorrowes bée I aunswere true O foe or friend they all are made for thée Once knit the linck that loue may last then shall my dolors cease It lies in thée and wilt thou not the yeelding wight release O would to God it lay in me to cure such griefe of thine Thou shouldst not long be voide of helpe if twere in powre of mine But I would run and raunge in stormes a thousand miles in paine Not fearing foyle of friends to haue my Countnance whole againe And wilt thou then all mercilesse more longer torment mée In drawing back sith my good helpe is onely whole in thée Then sende me close the hewing knife my wyder wounde to stratch And thou shalt sée by wofull griefe of life a cleane dispatch When thou shalt saye and prone it true my hart entirely loude Which lost the lyfe for Countnance sweete from whome he neuer moude Write then vpon my mournefull toombe these verses grauen aboue Here lies the hart his truth to trie that lost his life in loue Loe saue or spill thou mayst me nowe thou sitst in iudgement hie Where I poore man at barre doe stande and lowde for life doe crie Thou will not be so mercilesse to slea a louing hart Small praise it is to conquer him that durst no where to start Then heale the hart that loues thée well vntill the day he die And firmely fast thy fayth on him thats true continually Then shall I blesse the pleasant plot where first I sawe thy face And say the Gods haue thée indude with giftes of goodly grace Whose vertues mixt with pittie great hir Counsell sought to saue Who being voyde of hir good helpe long since had line in graue I. K. at his Friends departure AGainst necessitie there is no lawe they say But shall such néede bereaue perforce my dearest friend away No stroke doth fall so fell But wisedome yet may ware So though my hope must néedes begon yet this doth crushe my care That he is onely gone Utilitie to gaine And still I Ho to sée him well in ioy returnde againe His friends that freshely fare will not his hart refell God sende thée safe thy soules desire to please thee passing well Then shall I yet reioyce that thou departst from mée To set thy selfe in sounder sort as once I hope to sée When as thou shalt take rode within the Hauen of blis Till then to beare with patience the chiefest helpe it is God sende thée well to doe in due delight to dwell God send thée that thou most desirst Mine owne good Ho farewell H. his aunswere to his Friend K. PErforce though Pilate bée which hastes thy Ho. away From pleasant porte where still behinde his Iem of ioy doth stay Yea though the furious floodes his beaten barke doe waste Which gaping gulfes oft threatneth sore to swallow vp in haste Yet distance none so great nor plundge of present paine Shall cause me once my friend forget whilst lyfe in lim shall raigne Whose stedfast truth well tryed whose golden giftes of grace Whose manlie minde whose friendship firme who liues and will not brace Let fortune worke hir worst and spoute hir spightfull spight In welth in wo in ioy in care yet I in thée delight To whome ten thousande thankes I yéelde for thy good will And where thou woulst me one good hap I wishe thée twentie still Farewell O Titus true whose lyke were harde to finde Farewell for faith a Phoenix firme O curteous Keeper kinde A Poesie EXpend my words which soule w t hart doth write Let that be loude which loues thee passing well In space comes grace as worthie wits recite Soule hart and hand thou hast no more I tell Attend on God and waite his will to worke Be sober wise discréete in time and place Estéeme a friend where earnest hart doth lurke Trie ere thou trust and shonne no pooremans case Higher who clims the déeper downe he fell But set my broken barke in calme to starte Reiect no right lose not a heauen for hell Applie to purchase praise by due desarte Deride no wight the best good ayde may mend Beware betime be wise in courtesie Use time and place as may to vertue tend Right thus thou mayst thy praise amount on hie No wight no welth no hart but thou alone Enforceth me at times to ioy and mone To his C. MY wofull hart with pinching paine oprest My carefull corps yclad with heauinesse My restlesse lims that takth no quiet rest Doe wishe for death the ende of déepe distresse Why should I then prolong my dayes in paine Why doe I seeke to heale my helthlesse hart Or why doth lyfe in lanquisht limes remaine And still increase my bitter bale and smart When hart when hands when corps soule to die Doe willing yeelde as lothing lenger lyfe And death alone is ende continuallie Of worldly woes of cursed care and strife Which fiercely flow on me to worke my spight Since I of force must now for go thy sight Whose face to vewe was onely my delight To his fayned Friends THough some perchaunce there bée That would me gladly spot Yet shall they neuer sée Such chaunce to light my lot Ne yet their craftie wayes So closely clokte shall winne To them but little prayse If once I doe beginne Hereafter comes not yet Yeâ—â—â—ce a time I trust Will serue wherein to méete With such as be vniust Wherefore these words I vse I nothing néede to tell Nor you theron to muse Who knowes my meaning well A Poesie IN morning still when thou dost rise sée that in minde thou haue To spende the day which doth ensue as bed should be thy graue Another THere nothing is that nature here hath wrought Shall not consume and turne at last to nought FINIS A farewell to his Friend T. Hooper WHen as the soking sap crept vp on spraies that budde And blosomde branch with goodly gréene gan cloth the naked woode When Winters horie frostes milde March enforst to flee Then came my golden faithfull friend and swéetely chéered mée Whose face at first to vewe mée musde full wounderous For I assone had thought to sée of Troy king Priamus He cheerde my drooping hart in heauie â—ap that stoode With him