séemed so straunge and so greatly amazed him that he stoode in doubt a great while whether he saw her in deede or else dreamed that he saw her but when he came to himselfe againe and knew for certaine that it was she he said vnto her Alas my deare art thou yet aliue it is long since that I hard report that thou was lost neither could it be knowen whether thou weÌ„test or what was become of thée This said weping bitterly he imbraced and kissed her a thousand times together Then did Constance tell him of all her aduentures and how courteously the good Lady had delt with her from time to time after which and diuers other talke that they had together he departed from thence and going to the King his Maister aduertised him of all that had happened to him and his frend Constance crauing leaue of him to marry her according to his countrie maner The King greatly marueling at the matter sent for Constance who confirming all that Martuccio had reported he said vnto her Now truly faire vigin thou art worthy to haue him to thy husbande for whom thou hast taken such paines and passed so many perils wherefore bestowing many large gifts vpon them he gaue them leaue to do whatsoeuer they thought good Then Martuccio very liberally rewarding the Lady for the great beneuolence that she had vsed towardes Constance in her aduersity with the Kings licence tooke leaue of all his frends in that country with Constance and Chereprise tooke shippe and returned very rich to Lippare where they were so chearefully receaued of all their frendes who neuer thought to haue seene them againe that it is not possible to declare the excéeding ioy that this seconde méeting did bring to euery one of them To conclude Martuccio and Constance to their great comfort and contentment beinge solemnelye married euer after duringe the tearme of their life enioyed their loue together as they ought without any impediment or let to their deserued pleasure The complaint of one in misery THe day séemes long to them that dwel in dole and short the time to such as liue in ioy The sickmans griefe ful litle knowes the hole so much delight doth differ from annoy That th one doth cause in man desire to die thother stil to liue continually What man would wish to liue that liues in woe and in delight who would desire to die Since that by death an end of grief doth grow and death of ioyes depriues vs vtterly Of worldly ioyes for only so I meane of which we see death doth depriue vs cleane Wherby not all olde prouerbes true I finde for old said sawes do say that life is swéete But death is more desierd of noble minde then life to leade for liuing farre vnmeete Which loathed life doth make me thus to crie I liue too long come death and let me die A Louer fancied but not fauoured of Fortune MY mourning minde doth craue some sweet delite and fancie fame would lend me some I see But fortune frownes and sendes me foule despite and care doth kepe all comfort quite from me Such passions strange doe stil perplex my mind as I despaire of any ease to find But let me sée I must not yet despaire Dame fortunes wheele may happen â—ourne againe When stormes are past the weather may be faire and pleasure comes vnlookt for after paine Things at the worst the prouerbe saith will mend why should not then my sorrowes haue an end But old said Sawes are not yet scripture all for thinges at worst are past all mendinge quite To pininge hartes all pleasure semeth small what mirthe can doo the pyâ—ing harte delight When fates do frowne and fortune is our foe â—ought can be thought to rid the mynd of woe The nature of the Larke described THe little Larke that in the ground is hatcht and there bredde vp till fethers make her flye No sooner she a flight or two hath catcht but vp she mountes vnto the lofty skye Where if she sée Sonne shine and weather fayre how then for ioy she twittles in the ayre But if she sée the winde beginne to blow it poure downe raine and tempestes do arise Within a bush she kéepes her selfe full lowe where prety wretch close to the ground she lyes Vntill such time as all the stormes be past and then againe she geuâ—th her vp in hast Which plainely shewes the nature in the Larke is still to séeke to mount to loftie skie And though perhaps you now and then may marke a kistrell kite to make a flight so hye Yet all things waide if eache thinge haue his right a larke will far be likde aboue a kite The hawty mynde how it disposeth it selfe WHat hill so hye but litle emmets clyme what pretious perle but pore by trauel gaine What thinge so hard but is atchiud in tyme what pleasure such but may be got with payne What doubte so great but hope may men assure see more what heauen but prayer may procure The heauie Asse both kepe the valley still the clownishe coultes do loue the Country best When hawtie hartes do clime the highest hill and gallant mindes do séeke in courte to rest The cowarde dreades and in dispairs doth dye when boldest bloodes by hope do clime full hye Then let my harte goe clime the hyest hill and leaue the valley for the countrie Asse My mynd in courte shall séeke by trauell still to finde a pearle which farre all pearles doth passe My hope shall rest vpon a princely minde by helpe of God some heauenly grace to finde Loathing his life he wisheth for death WHat greater gréefe then tormentes of the hart which dayly grow by troubles of the minde And what such ioy as sodaine ease of smart which long time sought full hard hath bene to finde What heauen on earth with lucky loue to dwell then luckâ—les loue againe what greater hell But how fares he that féeleth no delight what world is that where nothing is but woe What woe to that which worketh such despight as makes a man no kinde of comfort knowe What life leades he that dayly cries to die far worse then death loe such a life lead I Then let me thus conclude my tale in briefe I am the man that only may lament A lothsome life that finde no ease of griefe nor hopes for help vntil my dayes be spent And sadly so I end my solemne song Come come good death I dying liue too long Hanging betweene hope and despaire he calleth for helpe TWixt chearefull hope and comfortles despaire straungely perplext ful sore amasde I stand Hope seemes to shew the weather wil be faire and darke despaire sayes tempestes are at hand Venture says hope despaire doth bid me slack hope prickes me on despaire doth pull me back Haue wel says hope despaire doth bid me doubt trust me says hope despaire says hope is vaine Shrinke not says hope despaire cries not to stout labour says hope
to finde some swéete redresse And sure I finde but what for sweete delight the bitter fruites of broyle and dire despight Then who seekes so were better not to seeke or if he séeke were better lose then finde For he that findes vnto his most misléeke will where he findes his burthen leaue behinde And stande content with laboure spent in vaine rather then beare it to his further paine Yet he that seekes to finde out sweete delight and seeking séekes the surest way he may T is tenne to one but he shal méete despight which if he finde he néedes must beare away Or els despight wil driue him too and fro from all delight into a world of woe So that which way so ere he goe to worke to finde the way that leades vnto delight Such enuious hagges shal finde in secreate lurke as stil will seeke to driue him on despight Yet what of this in spite of all despight my minde shal séeke to finde out my delight The louer argueth betweene delight and despight WHen ioyes doe fade and all delight decayes and pinching paine possesseth pleasures place And wretched woe in wearie wofull wayes drawes forth the life in griefe and great disgrace Who then can choose but in his harte to crie adue delight I must in sorrow die Adue deligh oh what a dolefull song why solemne songes serue best for silly soules Then why shrinke I who dying liue too long and daylie heare the howerly carefull knowles The bell of bale ringes out both day and night to bid me die and bid adue delight Yet mindes wil mourne when mirth is changd to â—â—ne and hearts wil yearne to bid delight adue The sowrest life seemes sweete til latest grone many repente and yet repentance rue The fancie likes that breedes the harts despight which makes me singe adue to all delight And yet God knowes it is a sighing song and such a song as greeues me sore to sing But since my Lute is lost I playd on long and sorrow is my onely Musickes string Which runnes betweene the frets of foule despight I am content to sing adue delight Oh miseri amanti WHat greater woe can be then want of wish and what such ioy as to attaine the same A soure sauce doth marre the daintiest dish no greater griefe then that which growes in game What spight to that which pleasaunte sporte procures what sorrow such as man in mirth indures This wante of wishe which worketh deadly woe and being gainde doth breede as great a ioy This soure sauce that marreth sweete meate so this griefe in game this pleasure with annoy This spitefull sporte and mourneful 〈◊〉 to proue is but to leade a luckles life in loue For see the ioyes are woes of louers wish whose gaine yealds losse whose want bréedes wailful woe Whose sauce is sorrow to his daintiest dish whose griefe in game is doubt in yea or 〈◊〉 Whose spight in sporte is ioy amisse conceiud whose mirth in mone is death the minde deceiud Oh 〈◊〉 wish which each way worketh woe oh luckles loue which yeldes such sower swéete oh froward fates that first ordained so that mone with mirth should match so farre vnméete Oh wretch aid me that thus am forc'd to proue the gréeuous ioyes by luckles lottes of loue A Farewell to Fancie FAncy farewell my doating dayes are done my yeares are young but wit is waxen old Reason sayth now my retchlesse rafe is runne and wisdome hath my wanton will controld And tels me plaine that pleasures frutes are paine and worldly thinges are all and some but vaine Kingdomes bréede cares and treasure is but trashe beauty bides not and fauour fades away Frendship bréedes foes loue leaueth in the lash the fayrest lookes when liking doth decay Byting bréedes lust lust losse losse little ease small ease great griefe great griefe no small disease Disease breedes dole dole breedeth doleful care care doth consume consumption day by day Doth feede on flesh till bones be left so bare that loathed life must haue his dying day And worldly death breedes life in heauen on hie to which good life God graunt that I may die The Louer being kaught craueth comforte SWeete soule or Saint I know not which to say whose heauenlie power or heauenly hart at least With onely sight my senses doth dismay as minde amasde can take no hower of rest To thée alas vnknowne this suite I moue comforte thy slaue whom thou hast caught in loue What haue I sayd alas by only sight and haue thy lookes then linckt my hart in loue Yea in thy lookes I sée such swéete delight as to desire diuinest mindes may moue Therefore thus cought with onely looke I say a looke I loue and more too as I may But since that may rests only in thy will by lookes to shew my graunted leaue to liue Let me enioy such lookes of liking still that I may vowe my minde shal neuer moue But looke and like and loue that only looke on which to looke such sweete delight I tooke And thus I liue in hope to see the looke that by delight may bid me seeke to serue Nor doe I care what toile I vndertooke by thy commaunde thy liking to deserue So humbly thus this earnest suite I moue doe bid me serue where I am bound to loue The Louer craueth either speedie release or els speedie death DRiuen by desire to séeke out sweete delight I fast am caught in dungeon of distresse Where cloase clapt vp I lie in such despight as reason shewes no way to séeke redresse But captiue like to sit alone and crie adue delight I must in sorrow die Too true I finde who followes on his eye is sildome sure the high way right to hitte For many toyes doe leade the minde awrie except that wil be guyded on by witte For mistes doe fall to dimme the clearest eyne so fell a fogge before these eyes of mine I sawe a dame which did mine eye delight but secreat hurte of loue I could not sée For why her state was set on such a hight as oh I finde no clyming vp for me So to delight in loue I sought the way in whose despight I finde mine owne decay Yet farewel sweete the cause of all my care I blame not thée mine eye did worke my woe But since that loue lendes such vnhappy share the kindest harte to kill with sorrow so I am content in this distresse to lie til loue release or death wil let me die A Louer voweth constancie to his Ladie IN little chestes the greatest iewels lie and smallest heads are thought of greatest witte Clearest the sight that can by vew of eye discerne the marke that hardest is to hitte And happy he that beares his hande so right as hauing seene is sure to hit the whight Your chest I finde the carefull casket is where now doth rest the iemme of chiefe account Your sight of sence hath found by sure aduice the heauenly wight vpon Dianas mount
driue me in disgrace By due desarte whereon ay me to thinke From swéete delight my head begins to shrinke And coolde of care so nips my hart at roote as that except you fauoure seeme to shew No sunne can shine that wel may doe it boote with frost of feare it wil be withered so Wherfore deare dame let fauour saue the flower Whose life or death lyes only in your power Oh che dolore IF in the world there be but onely one gainst whose good hap both heauen earth are bent Whom lot hath lefte in sorrowes seate alone her thriftles time with fruitles trauell spent To waile in vaine and mourning so to dye by heauens I thinke that onely wenche am I. For natures griefes are cur'd by Phisickes arte and counsaile much doth comforte careful minde But such a pange doth pinche me at the harte as Phisick frende and all I frustrate finde So that I see the heauens for me prepare to liue in thought and pine away in care Then sith such life to some one is assignde and I that one on whome that lotte doth fall With crooked care I wil content my minde til death desirde doe make an end of all Whose long delayes I doe too long endure and know not how his comforte to procure Oh straunge disease that nature neuer knew then not to blame in leauing no redresse Oh cause accurst wherof such sorrow grew as soakes the harte that dyeth in distresse Oh harte what helpe but stil in woes to waste til death oft wishd doe end my dole at last The Louer casteth all mourning away LAment that liste I can no longer mourne the heauie thoughts that lay vpon my hart To happy ioyes the heauenly fates doe tourne and swéete conceites haue cut of sorrowes smart The feare is fled of heauenly fauour lost and hope attainde of that I wished most My most desire was seruice due rewarde my greatest feare was force of fortunes spight My prayer yet the heauenly powers haue harde that due desarte might once enioy delight Which I protest since that I now possesse my griefe no more nor ioy was euer lesse Your fauour was the thing my seruice sought and your dislike did make me doubt despight But yet my harte had stil this happy thought when rage was past remorse would lende delight Which true I finde and sing in hart therefore lamente that list for I wil mourne no more The Louer compareth his ill lucke to Philomelas ill fortune NOthing on earth remaines to shew aright the patterne true of my increasing care But Philomela with her song by night whose rueful state to mine I may compare With careful watch she preacheth in the tree when creatures all into their nestes doe creepe So from mine eyes all sweete repos doth flee when men are wonte of course to take their sleepe She with a thorne against her tender brest I with the darte of cruel loues vnrest This gentle birde her yealding voyce doth straine to wayle the wronges that Progne did endure I haples man vpon the wight complaine that causeles doth to me these woes procure And when she doth a tune so dolefull frame as wel might moue the heauens to moane her plight Oh griefe of griefes yet such as heare the same rue not her songe but therein take delight Likewise my plaints which bring from me salte teares seeme pleasaunte suites vnto my mistres eares An other THe tender budde that brauely ginnes to blow while sunnie showers yealdes comfort to the roote If that vnwares there fall a sodaine snow no sunne can serue that wel may doe it boote Except it holde but for a day and so it may haue leaue to make a liuely show My selfe the flower that flourish all too fast while fauoure flonge fayre weather in my face But now must die my pleasures ouerpast to see disdaine so driue me in disgrace By due desarte whereon ay me to thinke From swéete delight my head begins to shrinke And coolde of care so nips my hart at roote as that except you fauoure seeme to show No sunne can shine that wel may doe it boote with frost of feare it wil be withered so Wherfore deare dame let fauour saue the flower Whose life or death lyes only in your power Another THe day of my delight is ouercast And cloudes of care beginne apace to rise The sunne doth goe his course midday is past Night will insue my mistres shuttes her eyes The glistering beames whereof gaue me that light Which others haue whil'st I bewayle the night But should the sunne stande alwayes in one place Sure that contrary were vnto her kinde The warme desires that grow by her good grace Woulde burne and so conâ—ume both harte and minde The course we keepe in middle spheare is best Where rowling stil she seekes a place to rest Disdaine doth driue these clowdes of my despaire And shades the sunne from shining in the aire Another THe shafte that Cupids bowe hath shotte hath Vulcane forged in my brest The fire which made the iron whotte desire did blow and neuer rest The cooles of care which burnte was loue the steele was trust whereon he strikes The hammers hope which alwayes proue to frame the shape which best he likes Teares serue the tourne to quench the fire and fancie files the arrow head Payne payes the workemen for their hire the wounde is deepe which neuer bled Lenuoy To heale this hurte is readyest meane To shoote his arrow back againe A Gentleman dallyeth with his Lute THou knowest my Lute if thou knowest ought that Musicke stil doth couet chaunge Stale beaten stuffe is counted nought new from the stampe is counted straunge And straunge deuises stil delight such daintie wittes as diuers be Deere bought is good in euery plight farre fette for Ladyes and for me If Tigell bring vs nothing els but stil doe pleade vpon a song And play vs nought but Osnay bels then Tigell doth the Cuckow wrong Lie downe therefore my little Lute and geue me leaue a litte while From case to plucke my little Flute the time a little to beguile Thou knewst when I was wel content til midnight thee for to embrace Another now wil thée preuent and séeke to keepe thy wonted place And I who thought it did suffise with thée an houre or two to play Must now assay in other wise some sporte to finde till it be day Contente thée then and holde thee stil my Lute I pray thée doe not fume Although I séeke against thy wil another instrumente to tune And when I haue assaide my wits that I can play both true and playne Then will I visite thee by fittes and wil retourne to thee againe The Louer shewing his loyaltie and findinge no fauoure is contented to geue ouer I Maruaile why you be so straunge when once you did professe such loue Or why seeke you so sodayne chaunge sith faulte in me you cannot proue My seruice hath béene readie preast at euery becke to
sore yet heales againe That is the cause of great despight And yet doth purchase sweete delight That healeth some of deadly smarte And strikes some other dead at harte It should be straunge what so it is But sure if I iudge not amisse T is all one with the same that I Propounded you T is loue perdie Mors mihi vita COnsumde with cares and ouerwhelmde with woes I bidde adue to such as liue in ioy Contented well my loathed life to lose as fortune stil did follow with annoy For as I féele my death drawe neareâ— on I see the smarte of all my sorrowes gone Whereby I see sweete death the ende of dole while life prolonges the wretched soule in payne The salue of death makes sickest hartes soone hole when care is found a comforte all in vaine Yet dying thus ere I be throughly dead accepte this counsaile of a carefull head Loue not to liue nor yet desire to die but liue to die so dying looke to liue Such dying life such liuing death haue I which makes me thus the world this comfort giue To dread no death but count him for our frend who bringes vs ioyes and makes our sorrowes ende The Nightingales note THe Nightingale that singes the sweetest note of any birde that flyeth in the ayre Whose choise of sounde with warblings in the throate reuiues the harte that dyeth in despayre In Aprill first recordes then sings in Maye and that mâ—onth past she singing goes awaye Which heauenly note might hold but halfe the yeare the ioy thereof woulde cloy our eares with sweete Nothing so good so rare nor yet so deare but chaunge for worse the foolish man thinkes meete So sweete and shorte is Philomelas songe and nought esteemed that lasteth once too longe But yet this songe that Philomela singes of sorrow groanes although the sounde delight Or harde mishappe wherof such mischiefe springes she but recordes the sounde of her despight So with that birde may I singe fie fie fie while others ioy in song to heare me crie Nil nisi probatum AMonge mishappes which kill a careful hart to finde a foe of an assured frend Is such a griefe as breedes that deadly smart which vntill death can neuer take his ende Oh wretched world where faith is so vniust that surest frendes are sometime harde to trust But all too late I finde the prouerbe true that frends are founde as fortune skoules or smiles But twise accurst that hollow harted crue whose flattering face the simple minde begiles And for my selfe since frendshippe such I finde I will accounte of each one in his kinde Faire wordes shal stande for open flatterie till faithfull deedes may merite no mistrust And secreat traynes shal stande for treacherie till tryall finde her dealinges not vniust But where I finde the trothe at neede I crie with such a friend I vow to liue and die The clogge of care THe clogge of care that hangs on heauie harte pulles downe the head from loftie mindes delight The sighes that grow of sorrowes secreat smarte in time consumes the wretched carcase quight But comforte yet may cut that clogge away the cause of dole whereby delights decay And then the harte will holde vp head on hie and ioy as much as it did mourne before Oh comforte come and cut of by and by that cruell clogge that cuttes my harte so sore I haue too long to carefull thoughtes bene tide my minde cannot the burthen long abide But all in vaine for comforte stil I crie my clogge of care is such I cannot goe I sée too plaine my dolefull destenie to waste my dayes in worlds of carefull woe Which makes me thus to ende my solemne songe the carefull harte can neuer holde out longe Another THe Plowman sure are ye and I the sandie field Your haruest then must needes be grosse that such a earth doth shielde The golde I meane my selfe the hutch my husbandes harte The Marte is done put vp your pipes goe whistle for your parte And let me liue at rest deuoyde of slaunders blotte Contented with my faithfull feere whome fortune did alofte For sure the Letchers loue comes euer out of time I meane not to deface my fame with such a couerte crime I am no Younckers pray I skilles am in scapes I doe detest the doting loue of Roysters and their rapes I meane to runne the race of these my poasting dayes In such a sorte that none shall check my youthfull wanton wayes Leaue then to ransacke her that careth for no chaunge Ne seeke to false her faulcones faith with haggarde hauke to raunge Vpon two Gentlewomens names MY fancie led me sodainlie as I did sitte and sow Amongst some other secrete thinges a secrete cause to know Remembring how the Poets vse Good Gentlewomen to abuse All in their ditties when they chuse Resounding fame to blow Extolling in their Sonets then The onely prayse of faithfull men They list not see how we women Passe them as I will show Harke not what Poets prattle then from reason they declinde In Platoes Schoole thou mayst it learne how frendship is definde Loue lyketh where is loyaltie Lyke loyaltie in lyke degree In wemen this is chiefe to see Peruse and you shal finde So saith he that this frendlines Only doth springe from humblenes None barreth women gentlenes Except they barre their kinde Perhappes I coulde adioyne to this where most affection dwels How there the flower of frendlines most pleasantly it smels Enritching womens goodly grace But here I neede not in this place Experience proueth well this case Aske her I say naught els Then sith it comes to vs by kinde Keepe not the secret cause to finde In Poetrie that is so blinde No true tale once it tels Sith loyaltie affection and likenes of degree On perfecte proofe from cradle vp hath linked thee to me No treasure riche nor golden mine Exchaunge shall make at any time For as I was so am I thine Reposing trust in thee Enduring so I doe pretende No chaunge to make till life doe ende Damon was neuer dearer frende So thou my Pithias be A merry conceate OVr Wilkin now will wedde the goodlyest girle I gesse That ere this countrey bredde it is that bounsinge Besse That euery iacke for ale and cakes At euery game his Lady makes He thinkes his Ladie beares the bel Pore horechit Hob And she belowtes the mome as well And there a bobbe How ere the worlde it wagges his Besse must needes be braue Gogs vish these rotten ragges are vitter vor a zlaue Then vor my Ladie zweares our Wil And therewithall he smackes his Gil. And she requites his busse againe He likes wel that He payes his Ladie for her paine That hittes her patte To beare his flaunting porte our Wilkin wanteth welth He shames to yeald the sporte and therefore seekes by stelth To maintaine this his iollie ruffe He stryketh handes with Saunder Snuffe So forth together they two trigge To make a
〈◊〉 farewell vnto you both twixt hope and feare farewell all foolish strife Follie farewell which I haue fancyed so and farewell fancie that first wroughtst my woe Adue desire for death is harde at hande and yet againe I say adue to death Though loathed life doe in deathes daunger stande yet faith assures when bodie loseth breath The soule in heauen shall liue and fare right wel which makes me crie come death and life farewel Both frendes and foes vnto you all farewell farewell my frendes for frendshippe I haue found Farewell my foes that truth in time may tell when that â—y bones be buryed in the ground That with the worlde I die in charitie and so adue the bell hath done I die And yet once more to death agayne adue for dying thus me thinkes I liue againe My certayne hope showes ioyes that do ensue and hart findes ease of former pinching payne Which makes me thus by certayne prouse to tell faithe feares no death I dying liue farewell Counsaile geuen to a frend WHen gallant youthe hath gone a while at will and folowed that which fancie doth affecte And sées in tyme by proufe of sacred skill What wisdome would that reason should respect He then returnes from former vanytie and treades the pathe to true felicitie When witte doth waye the wanton toyes of will and will doth yéelde to folow wittes aduice And willing witte doth learne by wisdomes skil of perfecte good to knowe the passing price Then worldly toyes are all had in despight and Heauenly ioyes are all the hartes delight When fancie leaues to follow fonde desire and wisdome doth dame fortunes force defie And nature doth but reasones will require and conscience will conceale no trecherie Then if my mynde do not mistake his markes the skye will fall and we shall want no larkes The secrete sute of a louer NOt what I woulde yet would I what I wright not what I meane yet meane I what I saye Not what I mought yet would I what I might not what I can yet will I what I may My spéeche is darke but you perceyue much light then marke my wordes and gesse my meaning right For this you know my tonge so fast is tyde as for my lyfe I cannot yet speake playne Yet do I seeke to haue my mynde descride therby to speake some libertie to gayne For if my tonge might tell my tale in kynde my harte would hope to haue some ease of mynde But oh harde happe my hope his helpe denyes and hope halfe past dispaire doth drowne my mynde Yet reason showes that thou in deede art wise and ruth reportes that I shall fauour find Which makes me thus in midst of my distresse in secrete sorte to sue for some redresse Of sweet contentes WHat aâ—le I wretch or whereto was I borne what meanes my mynd my fancie so to set The greatest iemmes I seme to haue in scorne and daylie séeke the thinge I cannot get The reason is I seeke a thinge to craue which will would wishe but hope can neuer haue What is it welth no many rich I see as many seeke but few or none can haue Bewtie oh no faire ladies many be and t is I saye no common thinge I craue What is it loue tushe loue is but a toye yet faithfull loue is sure a heauenly ioy And therefore Loue I cannot choose but léeke but lyking lookes and lacke breedes discontent And they shal finde that doe such sorrowe seeke that lothed lacke doth luckles loue lamente What is it then whereof I am so faine oh t is contente I seeke but cannot gaine Oh sweete contente what one doth thée enioy who liues contente alas I least of all Content doth breede delight without annoy contente mislykes no fortune that can fall Contente is that which few or none can finde yet must I seeke to set at rest my minde One that had made his full choise MY foolish dayes and wanton lustes be past in vayne you seeke 〈◊〉 me againe Let be your toyes my thoughts are fixed fast Citheria should her selfe but lose her paine Remember not to me wonted delight each sweete so past is now but bitter gall Darcknes I 〈◊〉 that earst I counted light my reason is redéemde from fancies thrall Applie your selues to set some other snare perhaps ye may speede better if ye doe Such woodcockes many in the worlde there are that will be caught I am no pray for you One hath me fast already hers am I Ne will I be anothers till I die A Countrey Carrolle translated out of Belaye A Crowne for Ceres wil I make of euerie kinde of corne With garlandes made of faiâ—e 〈◊〉 boughes I Bacchus will adorne Two pottes of milke to Pales laste I purpose to present That they may heare my humble suite and to my will aâ—ente That Ceres may enforce the ground a plenteous croppe to yeald That Bacchus may the clustred grapes well prosper in the field That Pales so her mantle spread vpon the pleasaunt soyle That grasse and holesome hâ—rbes may grow to quite my painfull toyle The same in another sorte WIth fragrante flowers with eares of corne with leaues that largely grow On euery vine lets garlands make our thankefull mindes to show To Pales Ceres sacred dames and Bacchus last of all Who all our meddowes fields and grounds when we for grace did call With grasse with graine and grapes so filde as they did déeme it best We fearde no heate no hayle no colde for they our labour blest From all that might the grasse the eare or tender braunche offende The cattle birdes or greedie goate that from the hilles descend In summer season in the springe or Authume did not spoile The grasse the eare the sprouting budde but fedde on others soile Let mowiers then make merry now let Reapers all reioyce Let vintners vaunte of their good happe and all exalte their voice To praise the meddowes fieldes and ground that gaue so greate increase And laude their name that wrought this worke els will their goodnes cease Barnes garners sellers so are heapte with hay with corne and wine That neuer earst the like was seeâ—e with any mortall eyine An Epigram out of the same Author THough false Aeneas now be dead Dido laid in graue yet others lefte they in their stead that like coÌ„ditioÌ„s haue Who with the show of marriage rites which is a holy thing do hide their fleshly fonde delights that follie forth doth bring Verses translated out of the foresaide Poet. WIth loue with grace and perfect worthines the powers diuine were compassed rounde about The skie was clad and cloathd in comely sorte with burning rayes of happye heauenly hew All thinges were full of beutie and of blisse the sea was calme the winde was meeke and milde VVhen here below the Paragon was borne whose faire white skinne exceedes the Lillie farre Whose haire like golde doth glister in the sunne whose lippes doe staine the perfecte crimson die
she had no doubt but that her tender hart would be moued to take compassion vpon him when she should perceaue that his intent was honest and his affection in dede vnfamed Hannibal was somewhat comforted with these kind words considering the great amitie that was betwene Camilla and his sister Cornelia thought her wordes might worke such effect with her that he should easily obtaine his desire Cornelia shortly after being with her frend Camilla talking of diuers matters as women will do when they he together at the last she spyed her time to open her brothers case vnto her tellinge her what straunge tormentes he endured for her sake affirming that without her helpe he was like to languish without all hope of remedy praying her therefore most instantly to haue pitie vpon him Camilla though she liked not well of these words that Cornelia had vsed vnto her yet séeing her to be greatly grieued for her brothers sickenes she did the rather hold her excused and would not greatly reproue her but gaue her to vnderstand that she tooke small delite in such amorous suters praying her from thenceforth to trouble her no more with the like assuring her if she did that she should but lose her labour and be farre enough from obtaining that she sought Cornelia though she were not satisfied with this aunswer yet being so nipt maidenly shamefastnes would not suffer her to procéede any further in the matter neither durst she shewe her brother what aunswere Camilla had made her least it should driue him to greater extreamities then he was in before but whether it were with watching and the great paines that she tooke with him continually during the time of his sickenes or by some griefe she conceaued in the vncourteous aunswer of her frend Camilla or because she saw no meanes to remedy her brothers seacelesse torment she fell shortly after into a grieuous feuer which constrained her to kéepe her bedde whereof when Camilla had vnderstanding she came incontinently to visite her and being with her all alone in a chamber next adioyning to the lodging where Hannibal lay hauing but a wall betwene them so that whatsoeuer was sayd in th one might easely be hard in thother Hannibal hearing his Camillas voice asked his sister Cornelia who was with her who aunswered him that there was no body but Camilla Hannibal being likewise alone at that present calling his wits together and taking more courage vnto him then he was accustomed to haue in this case taking his lute in his hand he began to sing as followeth YEld me my heart yeld me my libertie From out this prison let me passe againe That for thy sake bide such extreamitie As neuer mortall man might well sustaine If thou hast vowd to tread Dianas trace If crueltie increase in thee by kinde If thou disdaine to graunt thy seruaunt grace Or canst not lodge such liking in thy minde Yeld me my hart that wholy then I may Geue vp the ghost when as my race is runne Which now for loue doth languish night and day And hath no power those painfull paines to shunne But if thy purpose be to keepe it still Yet vse it better then thou didst before To vex the wight no doubt the deede were ill That well deserues thou shouldest esteeme him more Then in thy breast as reason doth require My grieued hart vouchsafe to lodge at last That I may say thou did'st not desire Nor wish the woes that I so long did tast But that thy loue though it were long conceald Was firmely sixt and plainly now reueald And then began on the other side of the wall with wordes interrupted with sighes and great abundaunce of teares to declare to Camilla his amorous and extreame passion humbly beséechinge her to take pitie vpon him and not to suffer him to finish his miserable life in the flower of his youth through her cruelty and want of compassion Of such force were these his prayers that mollefying her tender hart which she felt sodainly enflamed with an vnaccustomed heate she thoughte it greate crueltie not to haue compassion vpon him and no lesse ingratitude to deny him that fauour which his entire affection and perfecte loialtie had wel deserued wherefore in frendlye wise she spake vnto him after this manner Senior Hanniball I am contented to allow of your wordes and cannot but like well of your courteous offer not supposing you to be one of those that wyth leude practises doe seeke to deceiue such simple soules as I am who when they haue satisfied their wicked desire report it amongest their companions to the great reproche and vtter spoyle of those that were so fonde to beleue them But rather then any suche thinge shoulde happen to me I desire to die the moste gréeuous death that may be deuised knowing rightwel that when a woman hath once lost her good name she hath then no more to loose the same being the onely riches that she can haue in this world It is therefore very méete that we be somwhat circumspect in this matter if the loue you beare vnto me be so perfect as you professe and that your meaninge be none other then I imagine it you may demaund me of my Father in marriage who I am well assured will not deny you your honest request By this meanes you may easely obteyne your desire and keepe my good name vnspotted which is the thing wherein I cheifly delight me Hannibal was well satisfied with these words and greatly cōmending the vertuous care she had for the preseruation of her good name promised so sone as he had recouered his health to do as she had directed him After this Hannibal proued all meanes to procure his health and being well recouered caused certayn of his frendes to moue his sute to Camillas Father who knowing his hability and liking well of the offer aunswered that he could be well contented to bestowe his daughter vpon him but would not resolue vpon any thinge till his Sonne whose name was Claudius were retorned from Rome which he saide would be verie shortly Camilla knowing her Fathers answer imagined the matter to be fully concluded for she thought assuredly that her brother would not be agaynst it wherefore betakinge her selfe wholy to her frend Hannibal her affection towards him grew so great that it was nothing inferior vnto his Whilst Claudius deferred his coming from Rome to Cesena vpon some occasion of busines that detained him longer then he thought for these two louers diuers tymes had conference together thinking by that meanes somwhat to aswage the amorouse flame that continually burned in theire brestes but this caused it more and more to increase and made them thinke euerie hower a yeare till Claudius retorned But when they sawe he stayed so long after his tyme apoynted they caused themselues to be secretly maried thinking to celebrat the mariage at Claudius retorne who cominge home shortly after was aduertised by his Father of
despaire doth shew no gaine Good hap says hope despaire cries contrarie hope bids me liue despaire would haue me die Thus twixt those two at point of death I liue in hope of good yet fearing froward chaunce In you it lyes a happy hap to geue to bring me out of this despairing traunce Oh help me then that thus on knees doe crie Assure my hope or in despaire I die The Louer craueth rewarde for his long and faythfull seruice OH Loue to whome I long haue bene a slaue consider wel how truely I haue serud And blame not him who is compeld to craue the due reward that he hath wel deserud Let trustie troth be euer yet regarded that faithful seruants may be wel rewarded Thou knowest how long that I haue liued a thrall thou knowest againe my true and faithful minde And thou canst tel how landes limme life and all by faith full fast I once did firmely finde To serue a Saint all this thou loue doest know and how my faith I neuer did forgoe And since thou knowest I neuer reapt reward nor euer sought til now reward to craue Sweete loue let now my humble suite be heard and pittie take vpon thy silly slaue And cause the Saint whom I so long haue serud to lend me liking as I haue deserud Oh amour WHat thing is loue a God as Poets wright why Poets faine then how can that be true What is it then some worldly sweete delight oh then their loue why should so many rue It is a griefe then why are men so vaine to ioy in that which doth procure their paine But such a pain as pleasure bringes withal and such a griefe as yealds a heauenly ioy Doth make the heart to think the hurt but smal when fancie rids the minde of selfe annoy And such is sure the panges that louers proue that wretched wights can ioy so much in loue But peace I sée loue is a God in deede who diuers wayes doth worke in minde of man Whose mighty power mans reason doth exceede by working woe or comfort now and than But is it so is loue a power diuine then God of Gods spéede well this loue of mine Nought dare I do therfore oh God of loue I thée beséeche to worke for thy behooue Of a hauty minde THe conquest rare doth greatest glory gaine the strongest fortes by stoutest wightes are won The hardest thinges atchiude with greatest payne do bréede most ease when so the worke is done Well labors he how so his time be spent that for his paines doth reape his hartes content God knowes my hart and what I do desire but what I seeke doth few or no man know The nobler harte the higher doth aspier and for my selfe I cannot stoupe to lowe But if I séeke to clyme a steppe to hye God saue the childe for if I fall I dye In high attemptes the boldest bloudes of all do best preuaile when perill once is past Then lyue or dye or stand or slyde or fall clyme sure I will God set my footing fast And helpe me so to height of my desire that I may wishe saue heauen to clyme no hyer After many misfortunes he craueth death as the ender of all calamities I Longe in iest haue wishd and calde for death when foolishe toyes haue gone agaynst my mynde But dying now at latest gaspe of breath I call to God that I may fauoure find That sinne bréede not my soules eternall paine that dyinge here I may not dye agayne For now I sée the woes of wretched will and now I finde the filthie shame of sinne And now by grace I knowe the good from ill I lothe the state that I haue liued in I see the lyfe of man is but a floure which springes growes fades and dyeth in an houre What are we all but euen a clod of claye first made of earth whence back agayne we must A life vnsure which lasteth not a daye A death most sure to which each one may trust And yet that death yeldes lyfe by heauenly grace which grace God graunt ech one in wretched case And for my selfe God me my sinnes forgiue and God forgeue each one that is amisse Oure sinnes forgeue God graunt oure soules may lyue From wretched worlde with him in heauenly blisse And thus I end my solemne dyinge songe Lord saue my soule I dyinge lyue too longe He proueth vertue to be better then worldly riches THe golde that first within the ground doth growe doth come to stand on top of pillers hye The pretious Pearle that likewise lyes full low the Prince accountes a iewell for his eye What iemme so rare that euer yet was founde but that at first did growe out of the grounde Then when you see your pallace trimly deckt straight cal to minde from whence that decking came And to the ground haue presently respect who by Gods help did first bring forth the same And thinke the iemme that makes the brauest show ful rough at first within the ground did grow The man whose minde is ful and wholy bent to vertues throne to treade the redy way And meetes mishap ere halfe his iorney spent to lothsome vice to leade him out astray Where is the fault but in a froward wil who goes without the guide of wisdomes skill But what if wit be rulde by sage aduise and then doe chaunce to meete with naked neede It bootes alas but litle to be wise if wealth do want to help to doe the déede Yet wealthy wise who walkes to vertues schoole when he comes there shal see himselfe a foole How should the minde then séeke out vertues throne or els what minde is best to seeke the same The seate is straunge and standeth all alone and vertue she is thought a heauenly dame Which makes me thinke it is some heauenly place which heauenly minde must game by heauenly grace Which heauenly guide God graunt my willing minde with wisdomes skil to seeke out vertues schoole That though wealth want yet wit may wisely finde how long too long that I haue liued a foole And I may see from vertues heauenly way what wanton toyes haue led my minde astray The louer being ouercome is compelled of necessitie â—o sing of sorrow FAine would I write some pretie pleasaunt toy to put away fond fancies out of mind But secret spite so chokes me with annoy as wearied wits can litle pleasure find So that I sée if ought at all I write my song must be of sorrow and despite And sorrowes song who would desire to sing that dolefull dumpe doth lend but small delite And yet the mind which wretched woes do wring can sing no song but smackes of some despite For if of myrth it doth the more disease and solemne songs do litle paine appease Then sadde and swéete since that no song I see which may delite of cheare the heauy hart I can but â—igh let others sing for me no musicke mirth can ease my secret smart
Therefore I déeme as I at first begon I would be mery but my myrth is done The louer by froward happe inforced to forsake loue enforceth him selfe by trauell to seeke out the forte of fame THe world is chaungd my wits are woond about fancie is forced to leaue her fond desire From vaine delites dame Vertue driues me out and wisedom will what reason doth require My wanton wits are warnd by sacred I kill to flie the follies of 〈◊〉 will I now must leaue to write of louers toyes in Cupids Court I must no longer keepe Nor sporte my selfe in wanton pleasures layes nor longer lye in fancies lappe a sléepe I now must wake and set my selfe to schoole to sée how longe that I haue lyude a foole And I must nowe some tyme in trauell spend to seeke in tyme the gallant forte of fame That when alas my lothed lyfe doth end my workes may leaue remembraunce of my name And I may showe though longe I went astraye I founde at last dame vertues heauenly waye The louer forsaken craueth speedie death A Wretched case it is to sitte and cry where none are neare to helpe the harmed harte A greater gréefe where present aide is nye and yet by spyghte is onely kept a parte But yet most gréefe when helpe is hard at call and yet alas can do no good at all In such a case loe cursed wretche I stand my heauie harte full sore for comforte cryes Yet none can get yet some is hard at hande which in despighte accursed hap denyes And some I haue which woulde somwhat content but doth in deede my sorrowes more augment The secreat cause alas for shame I hide since folly first was worker of my woe By want of witte which wisdome hath discride and I do now by secreate sorrowe showe Therefore consumde come kill me death I crye in deede resolud and well content to dye A Comparison betwene thraldome and libertie THe little birde that close in kage is pente which ladies loue to sitte and whistle by Some say doth singe but layes of deepe lament and cheareles chirpes for losse of libertie Esteeming more her mates abrode in fielde then courtly toyes that chiefest pleasure yelde But contrarie oh happy birde thinke I so luckely to light in fowlers snare As to be brought to stand in pallas hye and eke in courte to féede on princely fare And shortly there in fauor so to stande as to be fed at fairest ladies hand Would God I were a birde in prison pent so I might still beholde my heauenly Quene If that I sing one note of deepe lament that day when I my Princes grace haue séene Wring of my necke or fling me out of dore as worthie then to kepe in court no more A warning to all estates The gallant mind when store of coyne is spent by rare exploytes must seeke to purchase praise Though honor fall to some by due descent good happe doth hit a thousand sundrie wayes Yet oftentimes in seeking high renowne the hautie hart hard Fortune flingeth downe The souldiour thinkes by sword to winne his wish when oft is séene the sword doth cut him short The sea man seekes in déepest floods to fish when drowning proues a cold vnpleasant sport The marchaunt meanes to winne the world by wares when oft his cost doth yéeld him nought but cares Now some againe build castels in the ayre which many times fall tumbling on their neckes And some will seeme to sit in stately chaire which are sometime set downe with deadly checkes In sâ—â—e I find the brauest mind oâ— all is highest set but haâ—d before a fall The miserie of loue BEwrapt in woe 〈…〉 with wretched will orecome with â—ares deepe drenched in distresse Pining in paine aliue but dying still crying for helpe but finding no redresse A life I lead the Lord of heauen doth know much worse then death to mourne in sorrow so But what auailes when fates and fortune froune when moone and starres are now become my foes When from delite despite doth keepe me downe and cares my corpes do round about inclose Abide I must as destinies ordaine thus like a wretch to 〈◊〉 away in paine Or loathed life that wretched thus I lead tenne times 〈◊〉 such cursed happe to know Or cruell 〈◊〉 coâ—e cut a two the thread that draweth forth my dayes in sorrow so Oh sorrow 〈◊〉 thy soking sighes dospill me all dole adew come you good death and kill me Or else good God who from aboue dost see the secret cause of all my cutting care And knowes and hast what thing will comfort me vouchsafe some drop of mercie me to spare That so my hart that long hath bid in griefe may praise thy name for tending my releefe In wanton youth my fancy thought a while there was no state nor life so sweete as loue But now I find how well did wit beguile and I the paine of such a pleasure proue I needes must say by true experience taught I find in deede the state of loue starke naught For first the wise loue makes become a foole the souldiour stout the rich not worth a grote The learned clarke it sets againe to schoole to learne an art wherewith to cut his throate It makes the man most free become a slaue and many times an honest man a knaue The Lord of loue Cupid him selfe is blind yet shootes by ame and oft vnhappely hits He hurts the hart and quite doth dimme the mind and with vile wayes doth ouerwhealme the wits What shall I say who knew so much as I would deeme of loue a wofull misery A meane is best WHen I sometime with griefe enough beheld the gallant troupe of brauenes in their kind Some swime in silke some siluer pearle and gold and I poore soule come meanely clad behind Good Lord I thinke what kind of world is this when some so thriue some fare so farre amisse But when againe I see some lusty lad whom I my selfe haue knowne in meane estate And in respect but silly simple swads and none to kepe so high and stately gate Well yet thinke I this wil not euer last the tides doe flow but ebbe againe as fast The prouerbe says that pride wil haue a fall who hath no lands nor yet no rents I sée When money melts and fethers gin to fall wil be ful glad to come and folow me Loe this is all the sodaine ioy I haue when richly clad I sée a rascall knaue An other FRom leathed bed my lustles limmes I lifte with heauy hart with sorow not with sléepe But sigh and sobbe I sée no other shift such careful thoughts my mind in thraldome kéepes No Musickes mirth nor any sweete delight may once reuiue my ouer dulled spright Yet can I sing and how but as the swan a doleful dumpe when death is hard at hand And so perhaps poore wretch I thinke I can sing such a note as none shal vnderstand Which song perhaps shall please but
haunt the field with more delight then euer he was wont Dame Procris she that markt it well beginneth now to muse and thinkes it but vnlawfull game her husband went to hūt See see the fruites of ielosie see on what ground they grow on no soyle els I warrante you but such as hat◠a staine Silde seekes the Sire his sonne in ouen but that he first did know himselfe ful ofte to haue beene there this case is too too plaine Vpon a sweete smile SWéete are the smiles in secreat I receaue and secreat sweete is swéetest swéete of all Would God swéete wench thou plainly didst perceaue how by thy smiles I liue deuoyd of thrall Then my sweete soule I know to my delight thou stil wouldst vse swéete smiling in my sight For if swéete hope yeald me such swéetnes still my fancie swéete for foode wil neuer sterue I can but yeald swéete thankes for swéete good will and sweetely séeke such sweetnes to deserue And could my wish once winne my sweete desire soone should I reape the swéete I would require Which sweete request is to thy sweete content by thy sweete will to worke my sweetest wish Which wish so sweete my sweete so sweetely ment is by sweete baite to catch so sweete a fish Which baite so sweete is loue I lay for thee and thou the fish I seeke to draw to me Which sweetely let thy fancy feede vpon and thou shalt finde so sweete a kinde of baight as by my hooke of hope I thinke anone to draw thee vp by lines of sweete delight And thus my sweete I swéetely angle still till my sweete loue hath caught thy sweete good will An inuectiue against loue WIth ue that see my loyall harte graunt my desire enioy his due desarte That all the world may wel be warnd by me to shun such mischieues as themselues may sée Let Poets fayne and tell what tales they list the troth is this loue growes in deede of lust First looke then prate and so forsooth they kist and then you know what further follow must Which to obtaine yet better be without how wittes must worke to bring this geare about Loue is in déede a naturall instinct which first doth grow but by view of the eye Which moues desire to passe beyond precinct and so doth bréede a secreate malady So loue is then a naturall disease and doth in déede to nature little ease The law of loue instruckes no more but this truely to serue the lady whome we loue To prooue each meane to please a misteris whome euery toy may to displeasure moue It is I finde a flatteringe kinde of arte which with deceit will fraught the truest hart And if it be as learned fathers finde it is a fire that doth consume the harte A welcome wounde vnto the wanton minde a pleasaunte poyson bréeding deadly smarte And if in loue be such a state to proue happie is he that neuer falles in loue And for my selfe I solemnly protest See see the fruites of ielosie see on what groun◠〈…〉 on no soyle els I warrante you but such as hath 〈…〉 Silde seekes the Sire his sonne in ouen but that he first did know himselfe ful ofte to haue beene there this case is too too plaine Which since I doe by true experience proue I hate the nature state and lawe of loue He craueth speedie loue or speedie death OH care leaue of to tire my restles minde come comforte come reuiue my dulled spright Flie fancie flie or els some fauoure finde cease sorrow cease loue lende me some delight Auaunte despaire oh helpe me hope in haste happe helpe my hope least life no longer last Drawe neare delight cheare vp my heauie harte packe from me paine away vile wretched woe Swéete heauenly ioye come helpe my secreate smarte oh ruthe relieue the wretch that sorrowes so Griefe get thee gone let pleasure take thy place hence vgly death for I must liue a space Mistres deare dame sweete soueraigne my ioy the Saint I serue the comforte of my care My hope my healpe my mirth in all annoy my loue my life my ioy of ioyes that are Oh saue my life that thus on thée doe cry lende me thy loue or let me quickly die My faith hath vowde to foyle all false suspecte and will wil worke in spite of enuies face Trothe is the othe which I cannot neglecte that loue should finde to gaine his ladies grace Oh Gods of loue that see my loyall harte graunt my desire enioy his due desarte He being tormented with manie passions craueth speedie remedie WHether wil wit or what is reason fled what wretched will hath now bewitchd my brain What rechlesse rage kéepes reags within my head what frantike fitte hath vexd me in ech vaine What mad conceite doth thus my minde molest that tumbling thoughts wil neuer let me rest Worke no more wit till reason rule thy will by sage aduise to stay thy busie braine Suppresse thy rage by sacred wisdomes skill and frantike fits wil flie away againe Let madnes marche into some other minde and séeke thy selfe some quyet rest to finde For liuing thus thy wit doth worke thée woe and braine bewitchd doth breede thee wilfull bale And rueful rage in time wil rancor soe that wil cannot geue eare to wisoomes tale Therfore good will let wit in time take héede least reason lost thou runne starke madde indéede Yet sit not stil for idlenes is ill but call to God to graunt thee heauenly grace That willing wit may worke his heauenly will and troubled minde may finde a heauenly place About this worke goe beate thy busie braine both rest on earth and heauenly ioyes to gaine That wight is bewitched that is subiect to beautie THe griefe is great that neuer findes redresse harde is his hap that findes no happy houre Doleful his doome that dyeth in distresse bewitchd the will that waites on beauties bower Wretched his woes that is bewrapt in loue such griefe happe doome and wretched state I proue For fancie now hath reason put to flight and witles will doth wisdomes wordes disdaine Desire acquaints him selfe with fonde delight and running wit hath got a wanton vaine Selfe will hath sought sage wisdome to beguile and hath in deede deceaud himselfe the while For fancies gaine is losse vnto my griefe and reason fled what rechles race I run My déepe distresse dispayring in reliefe doth tell me plaine my pleasant dayes are done My foule despight doth shew my mourning minde the bitter fruites of fonde delight I finde Repentance rues sage wisdomes small regard and wretched woes doe wanton toyes bewaile And heauie harte lamenteth hap so hard and sorrow shewes that selfe willes sleights doe faile Which makes me sing vnto my dying hower bewitchd is he that waytes on beauties bower Seeke and finde THe prouerbe sayes who seekes shal surely finde shall finde but what not that he séekes I gesse For why my selfe haue sought in sundrie kinde vnto my griefe
And you by hap haue surely hit the marke that how to finde may maze a cunning Clarke But who could keepe the key of such a chest or had a head might ioyne with such a witte Or could discerne where his desire doth rest as harte doth wish with happy hande to hit His happe were such as I can neuer craue but wish of God my haples harte might haue So pretty soule a solemne vowe I sweare I would not seeke for iemmes of greater ioy Nor should mine eye be trouling here and there to make a marke of any tysing toy But where I once my leauel lay of loue my hande shal holde and harte shal neuer moue The Louer forsaken and almost dismaide yet through hope taketh comforte FLy fancie flie and let me loue no more what meanes my wil or are my wits bestraught Die swéete desire molest me not so sore but seeke to saue that thou in vayne hast sought For sorrowe shewes the woe of wretched will and force affirmes but frowarde fortune still Where least I like my loue hath lent me losse where most I loue my liking findeth lack What bootes my barke in waues of woe to tosse when sorrowes sandes doe threaten sore shipwrack Such stormes of strife so rife in euery coast as but great happe shew life and laboure lost Yet cowarde wretch wilt thou goe back agayne and keepe thy couch and leaue to seeke delight Make sure accounte no pleasure without payne the sweetest ioyes are gainde through sore despight Then get thee forth in hope goe hoyse vp sayle the winde may tourne and worke for thine auayle Let hardie hope daunte feareful fonde despaire prepare thy selfe to leade a souldiars life Through thicke and thinne by weather foule or faire passe through the pikes and dread no deadly strife And though long first yet when the worst is past the best wil yealde some wished ioyes at last Another I Shrinke to speake since yet I haue no leaue and yet my harte so heaues my tongue to speake As that in deede I plainly doe perceaue with force of fame my very hart stringes breake Which force must be with fauoure ouerprest or els my hart wil neuer sitte at rest Forgeue me wretch if that my wordes offende fancie hath forcde my sillie minde to sue Some lyking let good nature to me sende my minde hath sworne our Ladie seruice due Then if thou lou'st our Ladie or her name regarde my suite graunt fauoure to the same Which fauoure loe I onely craue is this to graunt me leaue to say but what I could Say but my wordes thou wilt not like amisse and thou shalt heare my meaning what I would But til that time as I haue sayd before I must be dumbe and die in dole therefore The louer in sorrow craueth death HOw might I doe to weepe and wayle my fil that dolefull dumpes might soone dispatch my dayes Since sorrowe seekes my carkas so to kill oh doleful doome that so my death delayes I see selfewil hath wrought me such distresse as reason shewes no hope to finde redresse Yet die I must I feele deathes deadly stroake my carkase eke is nie consumde with care Why liue I then since that my hart is broke but liuing thus like one halfe dead I fare Which makes me thus at pointe of death to crie strike home thy darte good death and let me die Patience prolonges the patient in paine comforte relieues but rids not sorrow quight Hope lingers forth a loathed life in vaine fortune is false and frendes no wretched wight The fates doe groane dole is my destinie why liue I then good death come let me die Harde to finde a faithful frende HE seekes vnsure that seekes to finde a friend for faith is fled and frendes are secrete foes A shew of trothe tryes treason in the ende and many pluck a canker for a rose This wretched world is ful of wicked wiles when simple geese the subtile foxe beguiles For stinging snakes lie hid in smoothest grasse and softest streame doth shew the deepest floud No closer craft then in the glosing glasse which flatters much and shewes no perfect good I finde in deede no greater subtiltie then couered is with smoothe simplicitie Then deeme I best eche where to doubt the worst to make account of eche thing by desarte Or ere I choose to make true tryall first by tryall then for to esteeme in harte Thus thinke I best such trusty frends to finde as may content ech faithful meaning minde He craueth content being ouerworne with Loue. OH Loue leaue of to vexe thy silly slaue to bide the broyle some fresher souldyer seeke Thus worne with woes some comforte let me ahue that so thou mayst my seruice better leeke For if that care doe quite my carkasse kill how should I liue to doe thee seruice still Beholde my face my flesh is falne away see how mine eyes sinke hollow in my head My dumpes declares how my delights decay deeme if I seeme more like aliue or dead Let lyking loue some comforte me procure least loathed life no longer doe endure Oh heare me Loue and lende me helpe in hast the time is come that I must liue or die Stay not too long least all too late at last in vayne alas thou lende me remedie I humblie craue my humble suite regarde graunt my desire may haue his due rewarde De contemptu mundi IN depe despite of this vile world I write what is it but a vale of miserie A caue of care a dongeon of despite a place of payne a penne of penurie A sea of sorrowes and a goulph of griefe where wretched hartes doe die without reliefe The wise man wrytes it is a poysoned baight which doth with toyes the godly minde infecte A wanton theese which cloasly lyes in waight to robbe the minde of euery good effecte It is a grounde where onely griefes doe groe and to conclude a wildernes of woe Now why my selfe so ill thereof should deeme some men may muse that see my youthfull yeares Oh softe a while though young of yeares I séeme my youth hath past through many aged bryers But now that I am yet beyonde the bushes I doe not care for all the worlde two rushes Saue that my Prince I honour I protest my Parentes eke and so I loue my friend Set these aside and as for all the rest of loue and liking I must make an ende I hate the worlde and all the toyes therein and longe to sée my ioyes in heauen beginne Maledisant Beuchampe THe tender budde that brauely ginnes to blow while summer showers yeeldes comforte to the roote If that vnwares there fall a sodaine snow no sunné can shine that wel may doe it boote Except it holde but for a day and so It may haue leaue to make a liuely show My selfe the slower that flourisht all too fast while fauour flonge faire weather in my face But now must die my pleasures ouerpast to see disdaine so
deere quoth he the price amasde the elfe For two pence halfepeny he agreede at last and hangs him selfe Le home THis geare beares pricke and price my girle of all that ere I sée La feme The pricke for me sir I crie first the price I leaue for thée Corpus opes animam formam vim lumina scortum Debilitat perdit necat aufert eripit orbat The bodie wealth the minde fourme face and sight a whore Doth weaken leese kill race and steale and eke depriueth sore A Gentlewomans poesie YOung lust of loue in hoarie lockes on Ladyes loynes lay lasye knockes Olde beldames then doe you receaue the cripple knights young Ladyes leaue Aungels MIne aungels stil they be so fledge they flie or els in shippe they floate with puffed sayles Or with their legges they leape and runne awrie or driuen away by Dragons with long tayles Legges winges and shippes the deuill in dragons shins To beare away mine aungels neuer linnes A Riddle SCâ—lere vehor materna carne vescor quaero patrem meumâ— Matris meae virum vxoris meae filium Foule is my faulte that feede my fill and gorge on mothers bowels still With busie care I seeke my Sire my mothers husbande I require And such a one that man must be as is the sonne of wife to me Money still restlesse GOod money be demourant with me stil and then thou shalt be pendaunte in my purse But if thou wilt be volant at thy will or coorraunte els thy harbore will be worse Voussera still incloased in my chest whereas thou runst abroad sance any rest A fantasticall passion MY vayne is done to write in prose or verse For why I see my wittes beginne to faile Full faine I would a woefull tale reherse but sorrow so my sences doth assaile That I am forcde to say and ende in briefe I cannot wright I am so full of griefe A birde to a birder A Fowler snarlde a little birde with lymed bushe of late To whome for life libertie the prettie fowle doth prate She begges her raunsome at a price and promiseth for pay Three iewels riche The birder then so biddes her flie away Escaped thus now list quoth she Hereafter holde thine owne Trust not to much nor take no care for that which heÌ„ce is floeâ— Henceforth if thou applie thy selfe to rule thee by these three No little fowle as I shal make so greate a foole of thee The abuse of the worlde THe mournefull minde the ouerwhelmed brayne the wittes bewitchd that wearyed are with woes The pensiue harte that pines away in payne the troubled thoughts whome thousande cares enclose Doth stil I see consume my carkase so as nought but death can ridde me of this woe Long haue I hoapde too longe I finde in vaine and all in vaine it is I finde too late That pittie woulde procure some ease of payne but pride is full pufte vp with deadly hate Disdaine is growne so great with beauties grace as humble suites are all thrust out of place Humilitie is thought a sillie slaue deserte is deemde a peeuishe painfull drudge Truth thought deceate and flatterie no knaue crafte credite gaines good dealing may goe trudge This all too late to my despight I finde which makes me thus to waile and mourne in minde The Author troubled with hope and despaire TWo thinges there are that trouble much my minde the one is hope the other is despaire In hope my harte doth heauenly comforte finde and peeuish dread my pleasures doth impaire Hope to good happe doth geue me vp amayne Despaire as fast doth flinge me downe againe I hope the best and yet doe dread the worst which wretched dread sayes hope is all in vaine And hope biddes me account that dread accurst that lets my helpe my heauenly wish to game And hope assures that reason doth require although despaire deny me my desire Therefore I hope although withall I feare because I hope my hope wil banish dread Which makes despaire both day and night to beare my tossed braines within my troubled head This passion straunge twixt hope and feare I finde is that which longe hath much perplext my minde The Author troubled with loue and hate TWo things there are that much torment my mind the one is loue the other deadly hate The force of loue doth make affection blind and blinde desire doth set my wittes at bate They beate my braynes to make what meanes they may I finde in fine to worke mine owne decay I like not loue againe I loue not hate yet loue or hate I needes must take the one The choice is harde which were the better state and happy he could let them both alone For he that knew them both as well as I woulde lothe his life and gladly wish to die Loue ofte breedes hate whome luckles lots ensue and foule despight doth sore consume the harte Which seekes reuenge that honest mindes doe rue when conscience pricks doth cause repentant smarte This for my selfe as once before I sayde hath made my minde and senses so dismayde And yet alas I cannot choose but loue yet hate my selfe to see my fonde desire But cannot get my fancy once remoue that in my harte hath kindled hatefull fire But must of force my wretched minde content to liue in griefe vntill my dayes be spent Another THe longer life the more offence the more offence the greater payne The greater payne the lesse defence the lesse defence the losse of gayne The losse of gayne long life doth trie wherefore come death and let me die The shorter lyfe lesse count I finde the lesse accounte the sooner made The counte soone made the merryer minde the merrier minde doth thought euade Shorte life wel spent the same doth trie wherefore come death and let me die Come gentle death the ebbe of care the ebbe of care the floud of life The floud of life the ioyfull fare the ioyfull fare the ende of strife The ende of strife for that wish I wherefore come death and let me die Another MIstrust misdeemes amisse whereby displeasure growes And time delayde findes friends afrayde their faith for to disclose Suspecte that breedeth thought and thoughts to sighes conuarte And sighes haue sought a flood of teares where sobbes doe soake the harte This harte that meanes no harme must féede on sorrowes all Vntil such time in please the iudge the truth in question call Though cause of great mistrust before the iudge appeare My truth and mercy of the iudge I trust shal set me cleare Reporte thus runnes at large my truth for to detecte Yet truth in time shal trie it selfe and driue away suspecte Beleue not euery speech nor speake not all you heare For truth and mercy of the iudge I trust shal set me cleare Another WHat watch what woe what want what wrack is due to those that toile the seas Life led with losse of paynes no lacke in stormes to winne much restles ease A bedlesse boarde at
that she would be mine But yet content ye with your choise subscribe ye to my saint Whose worthy praise no siluer voice nor penne can fully painte Lenuoy Let it suffice I liue to proue it here In all respectes she neuer had her peere The despairing Louer TO painte the passions of a payned harte or shew the panges that foolish loue constraines When honest meaning lackes his due desarte the onely meane to purchase greater paines Alas I rue because my reason failes whilest fonde desire settes vp her swiftest sailes Too swifte in deede to passe the daungerous seas such daungerous seas as can be hardly paste Yet past all helpe and hope to purchase ease amidst the waues my â—rased barke I caste And cast the best although I count it vaine till fates accorde to sende reliefe againe A sorrowfull Sonette IF to the life that euer lastes this life a moment be If time consume our youthfull yeares which we no more shall sée If euery thinge that beareth breath doe waste and weare to nought Why dreamest thou in prisoned spright why doest thou take such thought VVhy doest thou so detest the day and wishe the darcksome night If to a safer place thou seeke to take thy speedie flight There is the good that euery soule ought chieflie to desire There is the rest whereto eachone woulde willingly aspire There loue doth lie there pleasure dwels there there my soule I say Amidst the highest heauens thou maist the image well suruay Of her whose beautie here on earth I haue adornde from time of birth The hurte that groweth by golde SOme say the golden worlde is gone but I suppose not so Now raignes the glistering golden age that greatly workes our woe For golde is now the God on earth now golde doth gouerne all Golde makes and marres if golde we wante in vaine for grace we call Golde geues and takes from kinges their crownes golde maintaines blooddie warre Golde bringes the greatest to theire graues and breedeth many a iarre Golde geues the iacke a gentils name and gaines him great account No faulte so foule but golde afoordes golde makes the meanest mounte Golde is the cause of all our care since first this golde was founde No faith nor frendshippe hath beene seene but fraude did most abounde Oh wretched golde would God thy name had neuer here beene knowen Then shoulde we not haue knowen the harme that by thy name hath growen He should I now haue cause to say so greatly to my griefe That wante of thee to winne good will doth make me wante reliefe The passions of a Louer MY Mistres eyes augment my kindled flame her golden lockes haue caught my captiue hart Her hurtfull hand my haples fall doth frame her wordes bewitch my minde and breede my smarte Her glistering eyes disgrace the brightest starre her crisped heare surmounts the glorious sunne Her handes in whitenes passe the Iuorie farre her wittie wordes immortall fame hath woon Her louely eyes doe much amase my minde her golden lockes alas doe linke me fast Beholde my state beholde what happe I finde no other ioy my pyning ghoast could tast Since cruel Loue within my breast did shrine her eyes her heare her handes her speach diuine The follie of Loue. ALas I see no hope is lefte at all by seruing thee to set my harte at rest Yet from this follie can I neuer fall nor leaue thy loue that likes my fancie best I am my selfe mine owne and onlie foe I see the pitte and plunge my selfe therein And though the meanes be founde to ease my woe foole that I am I seeke no ease to winne Though nothing happe that may my hope aduaunce from seruing thée yet can I not refraine No not though death or worse if worse might chaunce this is the good that I by lot doe gaine I see the best and know the worst aswell yet seeke the worst and bidde the best farewell To his vnconstant frend ROsetta retchlesse Dame since thou hast chaungde thy minde And in my absence to thy shame hast shewde thy selfe vnkinde I haue as well I might withdrawne my fonde desire From fancying one that is so light to make such quicke retire Henceforth for beauties blaze where no deserte is founde I will not set my selfe to gaze so great good will to ground This warning may suffice to make me wise at last Els greater daungers will arise then those alreadie past But tell when thou hast tride what good thou gaynste thereby Thou wast the first that gan to slide thy falshode made me flie Whilest I with store of teares did waile the wante of thee Thou toauest abroad with ruffeled heare and hadst no minde of me Forgetting my good will thou gauest thy selfe in charge To such as sought to spoyle thee still and leftst thy Loue at large As wauering as the winde that alters euery hower So wauering is thy wandring minde whereof thou hast no power But tell c. Where are thy solemne vowes at parting made to me Where are the teares with bended browes that then these eyes did see Would any man suppose such plaints should passe in vaine From one that onely loues to glose and glorie in her gaine O false periured wight accursed shall he be That in thy doinges takes delight or puttes his trust in thee But tell c. The man that holdes my place and pleades to please the best For all his faire dissembling face may loue thée with the least But she whom now I serue and honor with my harte Aboue all dames doth best deserue so prisde by due desarte Kéepe thou thy new come frende for I will stick to mine We loue and when our likes shal ende one toumbe our bones shall shrine But tell when thou hast tried what good thou gainst thereby Thou wast the first that gan to slide thy falsehoode made me flie The Louer ouercome with sorrow desireth death THe more my knowledge growes the more my power decayes To all mishappes my haples life is prone at all assayes My secrete flame augmentes amidst my floode of teares Before one griefe be fully gone another straight appeares Both night and day my thoughtes are chieflie on my graue In darcknes is my most delight no mirth my minde can haue The day dislykes me much the ceaseles griefes I taste At night when all things els take rest my woefull harte doth waste I neuer cease to weepe and yet I know not why In this vnconstant wauering worlde no trueth at all I trie A monstrous sea it is of sorrow griefe and payne Yet no where els can I finde meanes how I may comforte gayne Come therefore gentle death cutte of my line of life That by such death a thousande deathes may cease this secrete strife A Lady lamenteth the death of her louer WHy is my crased corps so strong against my wil that all the griefes I feele caÌ„not coÌ„sume me quite Who holdes my wretched soule whereas it likes so ill And will not let
of teares had quencht it long ago How may I rightly tearme this straunge tormenting griefe No fire no life no death it is and yet it lackes reliefe A dialogue betweene Reason and the harte of a Louer Reason ABide a while my harte why doest thou haste away Harte I goe to seeke the louelie eyes that must my griefes allay Reason I pray thee â—arke a while my leisure will not serue Harte A feruente fire prickes me foorth and will not let me swerue Reason Alas poore harte alas how little is thy skill Thou hast not yet the sense to see the ende of all thy ill Those eyes that so thou seekest will with a glaunce or twaine To ashes soone conuerte thee quite that els mightst safe remaine These eyes they are thy foes then should they succoure thee Harte They are my frendes no foes I finde that will so frendlie be Reason Oh this deceaues me most the suttle birder so With fained notes deceaues the birdes and seekes to breed their woe Harte Thou much beguilest thy selfe or enuiest at my state The case is not as thou conceauest but as I saide of late The poore vnhappie birde vnto her death doth flie I goe to seeke those glorious eyes to purchase life thereby The contrarieties in Loue. TO me the night seemes shorte the day too long I flie from loue but follow still his trace Vnto my selfe extreame my selfe I wrong And wronged so returne to thee for grace Greate are my paines and yet they please me well I sée the best and fondly séeke the worst Desire drawes on despayre doth hope expell Twixte weale and woe thus is my case accurst I proue to runne but proue my proufe is vaine The light seemes darke the darke séemes light to me Though free yet bond I willingly remaine Youres am I most mine owne I may not be My will I wishe but dare not shew my sute Loue biddes me speake and speaking makes me mute The Louer to his bedde O Bedde o restles bedde and made for ease why doest thou not perfourme thy parte to me To me a plague why doest thou others please and please him least that most hath neede of thee I lay me downe in hope to rest awhile I prooue to sléepe and so let slippe my griefe But sower conceites my sweetest ioyes exile and lets the rest that most should lende reliefe The swelling seas when stormes and tempestes rise moue not so much as doth my troubled minde Of this or that so still it doth deuise for euery cause a new conceite to finde Amidst my care this comforte yet I haue that in my bedde when restles I remaine I may be bolde without offence to craue what likes me best although I craue in vaine And when I craue and crauing want my will May waile my wante and fréelie wéepe my fill A Louer whose ladie saide he was an vnfortunate flatterer wryteth these verses for answere thereunto IF euer wordes did wringe me at the harte My harte was grieued at that I hearde of late To let good will be barde for my desarte Desaruing loue to finde disdainefull hate Such is my happe such is my haples fate The heauens haue wilde my will must needes obay And hath no law the prouerbe so doth say Say what I can it cannot helpe a whitte All that I doe I see is done in vaine In vaine I worke in vaine I waste my witt In vaine I proue to purchase ease with paine A sillie proofe that bringes such sorte gaine Such sorte gaine for golde that geues me drosse Harde is my happe that alwayes liue by losse By losse I liue by life my selfe I lose I lose my selfe and yet I liue to loue I loue to liue and liue to like of those That feare my fraude although my faith they proue My secrete sighes my sorrowes cannot moue Her hardned harte whose beautie bindes me still To sue to serue to seeke and like her will Flatter alas I would I could doe so So should my griefe be shortlie easde thereby Truth is my trust let truthles treason goe Wordes are but winde where words no works doe try True dealinge was my Sire plaine meaning I Plaine as I am can singe a plaine songe best Best for my soule small for my bodies rest Vnfortunate there did she fitte me right A righter name she neuer gaue to none Fortune my foe death woorkes me all despight But let her spight she spightes not me alone Besides my selfe she spightes at many a one One is there yet which onely one am I That feare not fate but fortunes force defy Like he that list her false dissemblinge lookes Séeke who so will her faire entysing baites In such swete showes I sée vnsauerie hookes Which warnes my witte to shunne her sweete conceites Who hopes for happe vnhapie wretch he waightes Her cursed cuppe that will his mynde infecte And worke his woe ere he the worste suspecte Suspecte not yet though I suspend my chaunce That any chaunce can chaunge my constante mynde The hardest happe shall moste my hope aduaunce And make me hope although no happe I finde My hart hath vowde my vow her vertues binde To byde her owne and onely hers to be Whose sight lendes light whose light lends life to me The tormented louer that durst not reueale his state A Happie lyfe I led and liude at ease WheÌ„ prickt with loue I would at lardge complaine And to the flame that fedde my fond disease Geue vent at will to helpe my present paine But now aye me my wretched case is such As sâ—ase I can permit a sighe to passe To ease my hart that hath bene chardgd too much With chaunge of griefes that waxe a heauie masse I loue and yet I dare not say I leeke Tormented still I seeme to liue content Consumde with care I can no comforte seeke Such is my state so is my fancie bente But though I plaine my plaintes are much the lesse The lesse my griefe though little be my ioy Because I feele and finde this sower successe From sweete desire doth springe and spread annoy Yet let me see some comforte haue I more More then I thought to comforte me withall Amidst my griefes that growing grieue me sore This only grace vnto my lotte doth fall To write at night the wordes I feare to tell When wanting inke salte teares doe serue me well A dialogue betweene the Louer and Loue. Loue. Loue. O Loue when wast thou borne When euerie leaueles tree And parched soyle began to spring a seemly sight to see Louer Who brought thee foorth at first Lo. The nurce of all annoy Euen idlenes the plague to man and ende of all his ioy Louer Who gaue thee all this power to warre with worldlie wights Loue. An ardent hope a colde despaire that lets your chiefe delights Louer Where doest thou harbor most Lo. In young tender harts That tirant-like I still tormente with store of piercing darts Louer Yet tel who trainde thee vp