words you would me write a message must I sende A wofull errande sure a wretched man must write A wretched tale a wofull head besemeth to endite For what can he but waile that hath but all he would And yet that all is nought at all but lacke of all he should But lacke of all his minde what can be greater greif That haue lacke that likes him best must neds be most mischief Now foole what maks thee waile yet some might saie full well That hast no harme but of thy self as thou thy self canst tell To whom I aunswere thus since all my harmes doe growe Vpon my self so of my self some happ maie come I trowe And since I see bothe happ and harme betids to me For present woe my after blisse will make me not forget thee Who hath a field of golde and maie not come therein Must liue in hope till he haue forse his treasure well to winne Whose ioyes by hope of dreade to conquere or to lose So greate a wealth doeth rise and for example doeth disclose To winne the golden flese stoode Iason not in drede Till that Medeas hope of helpe did giue hym hope to spede Yet sure his minde was muche and yet his feare the more That hath no happ but by your helpe maie happ for to restore The ragyng Bulls he dread yet by his Ladies charme He knewe it might be brought to passe thei could doe little harme Vnto whose grace yelde he as I doe offer me Into your hands to haue his happ not like hym for to be But as kyng Priamus did binde hym to the will. Of Cressed false whiche hym forsooke with Diomede to spill So I to you commende my faithe and eke my ioye I hope you will not be so false as Cressed was to Troye For if I be vntrue her Lazares death I wishe And eke to thee if I be false her clapper and her dishe Finis R. L. ¶ Beyng in trouble he writeth thus IN terrours trapp with thraldome thrust Their thornie thoughts to tast and trie In conscience cleare from case vniust With carpyng cares did call and crie And saied O God yet thou art he That can and will deliuer me Bis. Thus tremblyng there with teares I trodd To totter tide in truthes defence With sighes and sobbs I saied O God Let right not haue this recompence Lest that my foes might laugh to see That thou wouldest not deliuer me Bis. My soule then to repentaunce ranne My ragged clothes berent and torne And did bewaile the losse it wanne With lothsome life so long forlorne And saied O God yet thou art he That can and will deliuer me Bis. Then comfort came with clothes of ioye Whose semes were faithfull stedfastnesse And did bedecke that naked boye Whiche erst was full of wretchednesse And saied be glad for God is he That shortly will deliuer thee Bis. Finis T. M. ¶ Beyng troubled in mynde he writeth as followeth THe bitter sweate that straines my yelded harte The carelesse count that doeth the same embrace The doubtfull hope to reape my due desarte The pensiue path that guids my restlesse race Are at suche warre within my wounded brest As doeth bereue my ioye and eke my rest My greedie will that seks the golden gaine My luckles lot doeth alwaie take in worthe My mated mynde that dredes my sutes in vaine My piteous plaint doeth helpe for to set forthe So that betwene twoo waues of ragyng seas I driue my daies in troubles and desease My wofull eyes doe take their chief delight To feede their fill vpon the pleasaunt maze My hidden harmes that growe in me by sight With pinyng paines doe driue me from the gaze And to my hope I reape no other hire But burne my self and I to blowe the fire Finis I.H. ¶ Looke or you leape IF thou in suertie safe wilt sitt If thou delight at rest to dwell Spende no more words then shall seme fitt Let tonge in silence talke expell In all thyngs that thou seest men bent Se all saie nought holde thee content In worldly works degrees are three Makers doers and lookers on The lookers on haue libertie Bothe the others to iudge vpon Wherefore in all as men are bent Se all saie nought holde thee content The makers oft are in fault founde The doers doubt of praise or shame The lookers on finde surest grounde Thei haue the fruite yet free from blame This doeth persuade in all here ment Se all saie nought holde thee content The prouerbe is not South and West Whiche hath be saied long tyme agoe Of little medlyng cometh rest The busie man neuer wanteth woe The best waie is in all world 's sent Se all saie nought holde thee content Finis Iasper Haywood ¶ He bewaileth his mishappe IN wretched state alas I rewe my life Whose sorrowes rage torments with deadly paine In drowned eyes beholde my teares be rife In doubtfull state a wretche I must remaine You wofull wights enured to like distresse Bewaile with me my wofull heauinesse What stonie harte suche hardnes can retaine That sharpe remorse no rest can finde therein What ruthlesse eyes so carelesse can remaine That daiely teares maie pitie winne For right I seeke and yet renewe my sore Vouchsalfe at length my saftie to restore My loue is lost woe worthe in woe I dye Disdainfull harte doeth worke suche hatefull spite In losse of loue a wretche must ioye to dye For life is death now hope is banisht quite O death approche bereue my life from me Why should I liue opprest with woe to be Finis R. H. ¶ The complaint of a Synner O Heauenly God O Father dere cast doune thy tender eye Vpon a wretche that prostrate here before thy trone doeth lye O powre thy precious oyle of grace into my wounded harte O let the dropps of mercie swage the rigour of my smarte My fainting soule suppressed sore with carefull clogge of sinne In humble sort submitts it self thy mercie for to winne Graunt mercie then O sauiour swete to me moste wofull thrall Whose mornfull crie to thee O Lorde doeth still for mercie call Thy blessed will I haue despised vpon a stubborne minde And to the swaie of worldly thyngs my self I haue enclinde Forgettyng heauen heaueÌ„ly powers where God and saincts do dwel My life had likt to tread the path the leads the waie to hell But now my lorde my lode starre bright I will no more doe so To thinke vpon my former life my harte doeth melt for woe Alas I sigh alas I sobbe alas I doe repent That euer my licencious will so wickedly was bent Sith thus therefore with yernfull plain I doe thy mercie craue O Lorde for thy greate mercies sake let me thy mercie haue Restore to life the wretched soule that els is like to dye So shall my voyce vnto thy name syng praise eternally Now blessed be the Father first and blessed be the Sonne And blessed be the holie Ghoste by whom all thyngs are doen Blesse me O blessed Trinitie with thy eternall grace That after death my soule maie haue in heauen a dwellyng place Finis F.K. ¶ The fruite that sprynges from wilfull wites is ruthe and ruins rage And sure what heedelesse youth committes repentaunce rues in age I Rage in restlesse ruthe and ruins rule my daies I rue to late my rechlesse youthe by rules of reasons waies I ran so long a race in searche of surest waie That leasure learnde me tread the trace that led to leud decaie I gaue so large a raine to vnrestrained bitt That now with proofe of after paine I waile my want of witt I trifeled forthe the tyme with trust to self conceiptes Whilst pleÌ„ties vse prickt forth my prime to search for sugred baites Wherein once learnde to finde I founde so sweete a taste That dewe foresight of after speede self will estemed waste Whiche will through wilfulnesse hath wrought my witlesse fall And heedelesse youthes vnskilfulnesse hath lapt my life in thrall Whereby by proofe I knowe that pleasure breedeth paine And he that euill seede doeth sowe euill frute must reape againe Let suche therefore whose youth and pursses are in Prime Foresee shun the helplesse ruthe whiche fews misspence of time For want is nexte to waste and shame doeth synne ensue Euil speding proofe hath hedeles hast my self hath proued it true When neighbours next house burnes t is tyme thereof take hede For fortunes whele hath choise of turnes which change of chaÌ„ses breds My saile hath been aloft though now I beare but lowe Who clims to high selde falleth soft dedst ebbe hath highest flowe Finis ê™ Yloop. ¶ Imprinted at London by Henry Disle dwellyng at the Southwest doore of S. Paules Churche 1576.
tree I clime I can not catche the fruite And yet the pleasant branches oft in yeelding wyse to me doo bowe When I would touch they spring aloft sone are they gone I wot not howe Thus I pursue the fleting flood like Tantalus in hel belowe Would god my case she vnderstood which can ful sone releue my woe Which yf to her were knowen the fruite were surely mine She would not let me grone and brouse vpon the rine But if my ship with tackle turne with rented sailes must needes retire And streame wind had plainely sworne by force to hinder my desire Like one that strikes vpon the rocks my weerie wrack I should bewaste And learne to know false fortunes mocks who smiles on me to small auaile Yet sith she only can my rented ship restore To helpe her wracked man but once I seeke no more Finis M. Edwardes 21. Trye before you trust IN freendes are found a heape of doubtes that double dealing vse A swarme of such I could finde out whose craft I can accuse A face for loue a hart for hate these faigned freendes can beare A tongue for troth a head for wyles to hurt eche simple eare In humble port is poyson pact that plainenesse can not spie Which credites all and can not see where stinging serpentes lye Through hastie trust the harmelesse hart is easely hampred in And made beleeue it is good golde when it is lead and tin The first deceit that bleares mine eyes is faigned faith profest The second trappe is grating talke that gripes eche strangers brest The third deceit is greeting woordes with colours painted out Which biddes suspect to feare no smart nor dread no dangerous dout The fourth and last is long repaire which creepes in freendships lap And dayly hauntes that vnder trust deuiseth many a trap Lo how false freendes can frame a fetch to winne the wil with wyles To sauce their sleightes with sugred sops shadowe harme with smiles To serue their lustes are sundry sortes by practise diuers kindes Some carries honnie in their mouthes and venime in their mindes Mee thinkes the stones within the streetes should crie out in this case And euery one that doth them meete should shunne their double face Finis D. S. 22. A Lady forsaken complayneth IF pleasures be in painefulnesse in pleasures dooth my body rest If ioyes accorde with carefulnesse a ioyfull hart is in my brest If prison strong be libertie in libertie long haue I been If ioyes accord with miserie who can compare a lyfe to myne Who can vnbind that is sore bound who can make free that is sore thrall Or how can any meanes be found to comfort such a wretch withall None can but he that hath my hart conuert my paines to comfort then Yet since his seruant I became most like a bondman haue I beene Since first in bondage I became my woord and deede was euer such That neuer once he could me blame except from louing him too much Which I can iudge no iust offence nor cause that I deserud disdayne Except he meane through false pretēce through forged loued to make a traine Nay nay alas my fained thoughts my frēded my fained ruth My pleasures past my present plaints shew wel I meane but to much truth But since I can not him attaine against my wil I let him goe And lest he glorie at my paine I wyl attempt to cloke my woe Youth learne by me but doo not proue for I haue proued to my paine What greeuous greefes do grow by loue what it is to loue in vaine Finis M. D. 23. Finding worldly ioyes but vanities he wysheth death FOrlorne in filthy froward fate wherein a thousand cares I finde By whom I doo lament my state annoide with fond afflicted mind A wretche in woe and dare not crie I liue and yet I wishe to dye The day in dole that seemeth long I pas with sighes heauy cheere And with these eyes I vewe the wrong that I sustaine by louing here Where my mishappes as rife doo dwell As plagues within the pit of hell A wailing wight I walke alone in desart dennes there to complaine Among the sauage sort to mone I flee my frends where they remaine And pleasure take to shun the sight Where erst I felt my cheefe delight A captiue clapt in chaynes of care lapt in the lawes of lethall loue My fleshe bones consumed bare with crauling greefes ful strange to proue Though hap dooth bidde me hope at least Whiles grasse dooth growe yet starues the beast A seeged fort with forraine force for want of ayde must yeelde at last So must my weeried pined corse submit it selfe to bitter tast Of crauling care that carkes my brest Tyll hop or death shall breede my rest Finis F. M. 24. Hauing marryed a woorthy Lady and taken away by death he complayneth his mishap IN youth when I at large did leade my life in lustie libertie When heuy thoughtes no one did spreade to let my pleasant fantesie No fortune seemd so hard could fall This freedome then that might make thrall And twentie yeres I skarse had spent whē to make ful my happy fate Both treasures great were on me cast with landes and titles of estate So as more blest then I stoode than Eke as me thought was neuer man. For of Dame Fortune who is he coulde more desyre by iust request The health with wealth and libertie al which at once I thus possest But maskyng in this ioly ioy A soden syght prooud al a toy For passyng on these merie dayes with new deuice of pleasures great And now then to viewe the rayes of beauties workes with cunnyng fret In heauenly hewes al which as one I oft behelde but bounde to none And one day rowlyng thus my eyes vpon these blessed wyghts at ease Among the rest one dyd I see who strayght my wandryng lookes dyd sease And stayed them firme but suche a syght Of beautie yet sawe neuer wyght What shal I seke to praise it more where tongs can not praise the same But to be short to louers lore I strayght my senses al dyd frame And were it wyt or were it chaunce I woonne the Garlande in this daunce And thus wher I before had thought no hap my fortune might encrese ▪ A double blis this chance forth brought so did my ladies loue me plese Her fayth so firme and constant suche As neue◠hart can prayse too muche But now with torments strange I tast the fickle stay of fortunes whele And where she raysde from height to cast with greater force of greefe to feele For from this hap of soden frowne Of Princes face she threwe me downe And thus exchange now hath it made my libertie a thing most deare In hateful prison for to fade where sundred from my louing feare My wealth and health standes at like stay Obscurely to consume away And last when humaine force was none could part our loue
loue and leaue is all that I entend And yf you prooue in part and finde my counsell true Then wyshe me well for my good wyll t is all I craue adewe Finis My lucke is losse The perfect tryall of a faythfull freend NOt stayed state but feeble stay Not costly robes but bare aray Not passed wealth but present want Not heaped store but sclender skant Not plenties purse but poore estate Not happy happe but froward fate Not wyshe at wyll but want of ioy Not harts good health but hartes annoy Not freedomes vse but prisons thrall Not costly seate but lowest fall Not weale I meane but wretched woe Dooth truely trye the freend from foe And nought but froward fortune proues Who fawning faines or simply loues Finis Yloop. No pleasure without some payne SWeete were the ioyes that both might like and last Strange were the state exempt from all distresse Happy the lyfe that no mishap should tast Blessed the chaunce might neuer change successe Were such a lyfe to leade or state to proue Who would not wyshe that such a lyfe were loue But O the sowry sauce of sweete vnsure When pleasures flye and flee with wast of winde The trustlesse traynes that hoping hartes allure When sweete delightes doo but allure the minde When care consumes and wastes the wretched wight Whyle fancy feedes and drawes of her delight What lyfe were loue yf loue were free from payne But O that payne with pleasure matcht should meete Why dyd the course of nature so ordayne That sugred sowre must sause the bitter sweete Which sowre from sweete might any meanes remoue What happe what heauen what lyfe were lyke to loue Finis E. S. 1. Our pleasures are vanities BEhold the blast which blowes the blossomes from the tree The end whereof consumes and comes to nought we see Ere thou therefore be blowen from life that may not last Begin for grace to call for time mispent and past Haue mind on brittle life whose pleasures are but vayne On death likewyse bethinke how thou maist not remaine And feare thy Lord to greene which sought thy soule to saue To synne no more be bent but mercie aske and haue For death who dooth not spare the kinges on earth to kill Shall reape also from thee thy pleasure life and will. That lyfe which yet remaynes and in thy brest appeares Hath sowne in thée sutch seedes you ought to weede with teares And life that shall succeede when death is worne and past Shall spring for euer then in ioy or paine to last Where death on life hath power ye see that life also Hath mowen the fruites of death which neuer more shall growe FINIS D. S. 2. M. Edwardes MAY. WHen MAY is in his prime then MAY eche hart reioyce When MAY bedeckes eche branch with greene eche bird streines forth his voyce The liuely sappe creepes vp into the bloming thorne The flowres which cold in prison kept now laughes the frost to scorne All natures Impes triumphes whyles ioyfull May dooth last When MAY is gone of all the yeere the pleasant time is past MAY makes the cherfull hue MAY breedes and bringes newe blood MAY marcheth throughout euery limme MAY makes the mery moode MAY pricketh tender hartes their warbling notes to tune Ful strange it is yet some wee see doo make their MAY in Iune Thus thinges are straungely wrought whyles ioyfull MAY doth last Take MAY in time when MAY is gone the pleasant time is past All ye that liue on earth and haue your MAY at wyll Reioyce in MAY as I doo now and vse your MAY with skill Vse MAY whyle that you may for MAY hath but his time When all the fruite is gone it is to late the tree to clime Your liking and your lust is freshe whyles MAY dooth last When MAY is gone of all the yeere the pleasaunt time is past Finis 3. Faire woordes make fooles faine IN youthfull yeeres when fyrst my young desyres began To pricke mee foorth to serue in Court a sclender tall young man. My Fathers blessing then I askt vpon my knee Who blessing me with trembling hand these woordes gan say to me My sonne God guide thy way and shielde thee from mischaunce And make thy iust desartes in Court thy poore estate to aduaunce Yet when thou art become one of the Courtly trayne Thinke on this prouerbe olde qd he that faire woordes make fooles faine This counsell grauely geuen most strange appeares to me Tyll tract of time with open eyes had made me plainely see What subtill sleightes are wrought by painted tales deuise When hollowe hartes with freendly shoes the simple doo entise To thinke al golde that shines to feede their fonde desire Whose shiuering cold is warmd with smoke in stead of flaming fire Sith talke of tickle trust dooth breede a hope most vaine This prouerbe true by proofe I finde that faire woordes make fooles faine Faire speache alway doeth well where deedes insue faire woordes Faire speache againe alway dooth euil that busshes geues for birdes Who hopes to haue fayre woordes to trye his luckie lot If I may counsel let him strike it whyle the iron is hotte But them that feede on cloddes in steade of pleasaunt grapes And after warning often geuen for better lucke still gapes Full loth I am yet must I tell them in woordes plaine This prouerbe old proues true in them that faire words makes fooles faine Wo woorth the time that woordes so slowly turne to deedes Wo worth the time that faire sweete floures are growē to rotten weedes But thrise wo woorth the time that trueth away is fled Wherein I see how simple hartes with woordes are vainely fed Trust no faire woordes therefore where no deedes doo ensue Trust words as skilful Falkeners doo trust Haukes that neuer flew Trust deedes let wodrdes be woordes which neuer wrough me gaine Let my experience make you wyse and let woordes make fooles faine M. Edwardes 4. In his extreame sycknesse What greeues my bones and makes my body faint What prickes my flesh and teares my head in twaayne Why doo I wake when rest should me attaynt When others laugh why doo I liue in paine I tosse I turne I change from side to side And stretche me oft in sorowes linkes betyde I tosse as one betost in waues of care I turne to flee the woes of lothsome lyfe I change to spie yf death this corps might spare I stretche to heauen to ridde me of this strife Thus doo I stretche and change and tosse and turne Whyle I in hope of heauen by life doo burne Then holde thee still let be thy heauinesse Abolishe care forgeat thy pining woe For by this meanes soone shalt thou finde redresse When oft betost hence thou to heauen must goe Then tosse and turne and tumble franke and free O happy thryse when thou in heauen shalt be Finis L. Vaux 5. For Christmas day Reioyce reioyce with hart and voyce In Christes birth this day
toyle the Seas Life ledd with losse of paines no lacke In stormes to winne muche restlesse case A bedlesse horde in seas vnrest Maie happ to hym that chaunseth best How sundrie sounds with lead and line Vnto the depe the shipman throwes No foote to spare he cries oft tymes No nere when how the master blowes If Neptune frown all be vndoen Strait waie the shipp the wrack hath won These daungers greate doe oft befall On those that there vpon the sande Iudge of their liues the best who shall How vile it is fewe vnderstande Alacke who then maie iudge their game Not thei whiche haue not felt the same But thei that fall in stormes and winde And daies and yeres haue spent therein Suche well may iudge since profe thei find In rage no rest till calme begin No more then those that loue doe faine Giue iudgement of true louers paine Finis W. H. No pleasure without some paine HOw can the tree but wast and wither awaie That hath not sometyme comfort of the Sonne How can that flower but fade and sone decaie That alwaies is with darke clouds ouer ronne Is this a life naie death you maie it call That feeles eche paine and knoweth no ioye at all What foodles beast can liue long in good plight Or is it life where sences there be none Or what auaileth eyes without their light Or els a tonge to hym that is alone Is this a life naie death you maie it call That feeles eche paine and knowes no ioye at all Whereto serue eares if that there be no sounde Or suche a head where no deuise doeth growe But all of plaints since sorrowe is the grounde Whereby the harte doeth pine in deadly woe Is this a life naie death you maie it call That feeles eche paine and knows no ioye at all Finis L. Vaux ¶ The fruites of fained frendes IN choise of frends what happy had I to chuse one of Cirenes kinde Whose harpe whose pipe whose melodie could feede my eares make me blinde Whose pleasant noise made me forget that in sure trust was great deceit In trust I see is treason founde and man to man deceitfull is And whereas Treasure doeth abounde of flatterers there doe not misse Whose painted speache and outward showe doe seme as frends and be not so Would I haue thought in thee to be the nature of the Crokadill Whiche if a man a slepe maie see with bloudy thirst desires to kill And then with teares a while gan wepe the death of hym thus slaine a slepe O flatterer false thou traitor borne what mischief more might thou deuise Then thy deare frende to haue in scorne and hym to wounde in sondrie wise Whiche still a frende pretends to be and art not so by profe I se Fie fie vpon suche trechery Finis W. H. Beyng importunate at the length he obtaineth A. SHall I no waie winne you to graunt my desire B. What woman will graunt you the thyng you require A. You onely to loue me is all that craue B. You onely to leaue me is all I would haue A. My deare alas now saie not so B. To loue you best I must saie no A. Yet will I not flitt B. then plaie on the bitt A. I will B. doe still A. yet kill not B. I will not A. Make me your man B. beshrewe me than A. The swifter I followe then you fly awaie B. Swift hauks in their fliyng oft times misse their pray A. Yet some killeth dedly that flie to the marke B. You shall touche no feather thereof take no carke A. Yet hope shall further my desire B. You blowe the coales and raise no fire A. Yet will I not flitt B. then plaie on the bitt A. I will B. doe still A. yet kill not B. I will not A. Make me your man B. beshrewe me than A. To loue is no daunger where true loue is ment B. I will loue no ranger lest that I repent A. My loue is no ranger I make God auow B. To trust your smoth saiyngs I sure knowe not how A. Moste truthe I meane as tyme shall well trie B. No truthe in men I oft espie A Yet will I not flitt B. then plaie on the bitt A. I will B. doe still A. yet kill not B. I will not A. Make me your man B. Be shrewe me than A. Some women maie saie naie and meane loue moste true B. Some women can make fools of as wise men as you A. In tyme I shall catche you I knowe when and where B. I will sone dispatche you you shall not come there A. Some speds at length that oft haue mist B. I am well armed come when you list A. Yet will I not flitt B. then plaie on the bitt A. I will B. doe still A. yet kill not B. I will not A. Make me your man B. beshrewe me than A. Yet worke your kinde kindly graunt me loue for loue B. I will vse you frendly as I shall you proue A. Moste close you shall finde me I this doe protest B. Then sure you shall binde me to graunt your request A. O happie threde now haue I sponne B. You syng before the conquest wonne A. Why then will you swarne B. euen as you deserue A. Loue still B. I will A. yet kill not B. I will not A. Make me your man B. come to me than Finis M. B. ¶ Requiryng the fauour of his loue She aunswereth thus M. WHat death maie be compared to loue H. What grief therein now doest thou proue M. My paines alas who can expresse H. I see no cause of heauinesse M. My Ladies looks my wo hath wrought H. Then blame thyne eyes that first haue sought M. I burne alas and blowe the fire H. A foole consumes by his desire M. What shall I do than H come out and thou can H. Alas I die M. what remedie M. My sugred sweete is mixed with gall H. Thy Ladie can not doe with all M. The more I seeke the lesse I finde H. Then striue not with the streame and winde M. Her must I loue although I smarte H. With thy owne sworde thou slaiest thy harte M. Suche pleasaunt baites who can refraine H. Suche beats will sure brede the greate paine M. What shal I do than H. Come out and thou can H. Alas I die M. what remedie M. Her golden beames myne eyes doe daze H. Vpon the Sonne thou maiest not gaze M. She might reward my cruell smarte H. She thinks thou bearest a fained harte M. She laughs to heare my wofull cries H. Forsake her then in tyme be wise M. No no alas that maie not bee H. No wise man then will pitie thee M. What shall I do than H. come out and thou can M. Alas I die H. what remedie M. A liuyng death loe thus I proue H. Suche are the fruts of froward loue M. O that I might her loue once againe H. Thy gaine would not halfe quite the paine M. Her
dearly bought Lo I am he that plaies within her maze And finds no waie to get the same I sought But as the Dere are driuen vnto the gaze And to augment the grief of my desire My self to burne I blowe the fire But shall I come ny you Of forse I must flie you What death alas maie be compared to this I plaie within the maze of my swete foe And when I would of her but craue a kis Disdaine enforceth her awaie to goe My self I check yet doe I twiste the twine The pleasure hers the paine is myne But shall I come ny you Of forse I must flie you You courtly wights that wants your pleasant choise Lende me a floud of teares to waile my chaunce Happie are thei in loue that can reioyse To their greate paines where fortune doeth aduaunce But sith my sute alas can not preuaile Full fraight with care in grief still will I waile Sith you will needs flie me I maie not come ny you Finis L.V. ¶ Beyng in loue he complaineth IF care or skill could conquere vaine desire Or reasons raines my strong affection staie Then should my sights to quiet breast retire And shunne suche signes as secret thoughts bewraie Vncomely loue whiche now lurks in my breast Should cease my grief through wisdoÌ„s power opprest But who can leaue to looke on Venus face Or yeldeth not to Iunos high estate What witt so wise as giues not Pallas place These vertues rare eche Godds did yelde amate Saue her alone who yet on yearth doeth reigne Whose beauties stryng no Gods can well destraine What worldly wight can hope for heauenly hire When onely sights must make his secret mone A silent sute doeth seâ—de to Grace aspire My haples happe doeth role to restles stone Yet Phebe faire disdainde the heauens aboue To ioye on yearth her poore Endimions loue Rare is reward where none can iustly craue For chaunce is choise where reason maks no claime Yet lucke sometymes dispairyng souls doeth saue A happie starre made Giges ioye attaine A slauishe Smith of rude and rascall race Founde means in tyme to gaine a Goddes grace Then loftie Loue thy sacred sailes aduaunce My sithyng seas shall flowe with streames of teares Amidds disdaine driue forthe my dolefull chaunce A valiaunt minde no deadly daunger feares Who loues alofte and setts his harte on hie Deserues no paine though he doe pine and die Finis M.B. ¶ A louer reiected complaineth THe tricklyng teares that fales along my cheeks The secret sighs that showes my inward grief The present paines perforce that loue aye seeks Bidds me renew my cares without relief In wofull song in dole displaie My pensiue harte for to bewraie Bewraie thy grief thou wofull harte with speede Resigne thy voyce to her that causde thy woe With irksome cries bewaile thy late doen deede For she thou louest is sure thy mortall foe And helpe for thee there is none sure But still in paine thou must endure The striken Deare hath helpe to heale his wounde The haggerd hauke with toile is made full tame The strongest tower the Canon laies on grounde The wisest witt that euer had the fame Was thrall to Loue by Cupids sleights Then waie my case with equall waights She is my ioye she is my care and wo She is my paine she is my ease therefore She is my death she is my life also She is my salue she is my wounded sore In fine she hath the hande and knife That maie bothe saue and ende my life And shal I liue on yearth to be her thral And shall I sue and serue her all in vaine And kisse the stepps that she let ts fall And shall I praie the gods to kepe the pain From her that is so cruell still No no on her woorke all your will. And let her feele the power of all your might And let her haue her moste desire with speede And let her pine awaie bothe daie and night And let her moue and none lament her neede And let all those that shall her se Dispise her state and pitie me Finis E. O. ¶ Not attainyng to his desire he complaineth I Am not as seme to bee Nor when I smile I am not glad A thrall although you count me free I moste in mirthe moste pensiue sadd I smile to shade my bitter spight As Haniball that sawe in sight His countrey soile with Carthage toune By Romaine force defaced doune And Caesar that presented was With noble Pompeyes princely hedd As t were some iudge to rule the case A floud of teares he semde to shedd Although in deede it sprong of ioye Yet others thought it was annoye Thus contraries be vsed I finde Of wise to cloke the couert minde I Haniball that smiles for grief And let you Caesars teares suffice The one that laughs at his mischief The other all for ioye that cries I smile to see me scorned so You wepe for ioye to see me wo And I a harte by loue slaine dead Presents in place of Pompeyes head O cruell happ and harde estate That forceth me to loue my foe Accursed be so foule afate My choise for to profixe it so So long to fight with secret sore And finde no secret salue therefore Some purge their paine by plaint I finde But I in vaine doe breathe my winde Finis E. O. ¶ His mynde not quietly setled he writeth this EVen as the waxe doeth melt or dewe consume awaie Before the Sonne so I behold through careful thoughts decaie For my best lucke leads me to suche sinister state That I doe wast with others loue that hath my self in hate And he that beats the bushe the wished birde not getts But suche I see as sitteth still and holds the foulyng netts The Drone more honie sucks that laboureth not at all Then doeth the Bee to whose most pain least pleasure doth befall The Gardner sowes the seeds whereof the flowers doe growe And others yet doe gather them that tooke lesse paine I knowe So I the pleasaunt grape haue pulled from the Vine And yet I languish in greate thirst while others drinke the wine Thus like a wofull wight I woue my webb of woe The more I would wede out my cares the more thei seme to grow The whiche betokeneth hope forsaken is of me That with the carefull culuer climes the worne withered tree To entertaine my thoughts and there my happe to mone That neuer am lesse idle lee then when I am alone Finis E. O. ¶ Of the mightie power of Loue. MY meanyng is to worke what wondes loue hath wrought Wherwith I muse why meÌ„ of wit haue loue so derely bought For loue is worse then hate and eke more harme hath doen Record I take of those that rede of Paris Priams sonne It semed the God of slepe had mazed so muche his witts When he refused witt for loue whiche cometh but by fitts But why accuse I hym whom yearth hath couered long There be of his