beggar soone is spied When weake Shores wife had lost her staffe of stay The halt and blind went limping lame away The poore is pincht and pointed at in deed As baited bull were leading to a stake Wealth findes great helpe want gets no friend at néede A plaged wight a booteles mone may make A naked soule in street for colde may quake But colde or hot when mischiefes comes a roe As falles the lot the backe beares of the bloe Prefarment past the world will soone forget The present time is daily gazd vpon Yf merchant rich from wealth doe fall in debt Small count is made of his good fortune gon We feede on flesh and fling away the bone Embrace the best and set the worst aside Because faire flowers are made of in their pride You yonglings nowe that vaine delights leads on To sell chast life for lewd and light desires Poore gaine is gote when rich good name is gon Foule blot and shame liues vnder trimme attires World soone casts off the hackney horse it hiers And when bare nagge is ridden out of breath Tibbe is turnd lose to feed on barren heath Of flowers a while men doe gay poses make The sent once past a due dry withered leaues Loue lasts not long prickt vp for pleasures sake Straw little worth when corne forsaks the sheaues A painted post the gazars eie deceiues But when foule fauts are found that bleard the sight The account is gon of girlls or gugawes light Young pooppies play small season lasts you sée Old appish sportes are quickly out of grace Fond wanton games will soone forgotten be As sowre as crabbe becomes the sweetest face There needes no more be spoken of this case All earthly ioyes by tract of time decayes Soone is the glase runne out of our good dayes My fall and facte makes proofe of that is spoke Tels world to much of shadowes in the sunne Dust blowne with winde or simple proofe of smoake That flies from fire and fast throwe aire doth run It ends with woe that was with ioy begun It turnes to teares that first began with sport At length long paine finds pleasure was but short As long as life remaind in Edwards brest Who was but I who had such friends at call His body was no sooner put in chest But well was he that could procure my fall His brother was mine enemy most of all Protector then whose vice did still abound From ill to worse till death did him confound He falsely fainde that I of counsell was To poyson him which thing I neuer meant But he could set thereon a face of brasse To bring to passe his lewde and false intent To such mischiefe this tyrants heart was bent To God ne man he neuer stood in awe For in his wrath he made his will a lawe Lord Hastings bloud for vengeaunce on him cryes And many moe that were to long to name But most of all and in most woefull wise I had good cause this wrtched man to blam◠Before the world I suffered open shame Where people were as thicke as is the sand I pennance tooke with taper in my hand Each eye did stare and looke me in the face As I past hy the rumours on me ran But pacience then had lent me such a grace My quiet lookes were praisd of euery man The shamefast bloud brought me such collour than That thousands sayde that sawe my sober chéere It is great ruth to sée this woman heere But what preuayld the peoples pitie there This raging wolfe would spare no guiltles blood Oh wicked wombe that such ill fruit did beare Oh cursed earth that yéeldeth forth such mud The hell consume all things that did thée good The heauens shut their gates against thy spréete The world tread downe thy glory vnder féete I aske of God a vengeance on thy bones Thy stinking corps corrupts the aire I knowe Thy shamefull death no earthly wight bemones For in th◠life thy workes were hated so That euery man did wis◠thy ouerthroe Wherefore I may though parciall nowe I am Curse euery cause whereof thy body came Woe worth the man that fathered such a childe Woe worth the howre wherein thou wast begate Woe worth the brests that haue the world begylde To norish thée that all the worlde did hate Woe worth the Gods that gaue thée such a fate To liue so long that death deserude so oft Woe worth the chance that set thée vp aloft Woe worth the day the time the howre and all When subiects clapt the crowne on Richards head Woe worth the Lordes that sat in sumptuous hall To honour him that Princes blood so shead Woulde God he had bin boyld in scalding lead When he presumde in brothers seat to sit Whose wretched rage ruld all with wicked wit Yée Princes all and rulers euerechone In punishment beware of hatreds yre Before yée scourge take héede looke well thereon In wraths ill will if malice kindle fyre Your harts will burne in such a hote desyre That in those flames the smoke shall dim your sight Yée shall forget to ioyne your iustice right You should not iudge till things be well descernd Your charge is still to maintaine vpright lawes In conscience rules yée should be throwly lernd Where clemencie bids wrath and rashnes pause And further saith strike not without a cause And when yee smite doe it for iustice sake Then in good part ech man your scourge will take If that such zeale had moud this tyrants mind To make my plague a warning for the rest I had smal cause such fault in him to finde Such punishment is vsed for the best But by ill will and powre I was oprest He spoylde my goods and left me bare and poore And caused me to beg from dore to dore What fall was this to come from Princes fare To watch for crumes among the blind and lame When almes were delt I had an hungry share Because I knewe not how to aske for shame Till force and néede had brought me in such frame Than starue I must or learne to beg an almes With booke in hand to say S. Dauids Psalmes Where I was wont the golden chaines to weare A payre of beads about my necke was wound A linnen cloth was lapt about my heare A ragged gowne that trailed on the ground A dish that clapt and gaue a heauie sound A staying staffe and wallet there withall I bare about as witnesse of my fall The fall of leafe is nothing like the spring Ech eye beholdes the rising of the sunne All men admire the fauour of a King And from great states growne in disgrace they run Such sodaine claps ne wit nor will can shun For when the stoole is taken from our féete Full flat on floore the body falls in stréete I had no house wherein to hide my heade The open stréete my lodging was perforce Full oft I went all hungry to my bed My flesh consumde I looked like a corse
CHVRCHYARDS Challenge LONDON Printed by Iohn Wolfe 1593. To the right honourable Sir Iohn VVolley Knight Secretary for the Latin tung to the Queenes Maiestie and one of her priuie Councell Thomas Churchyard wisheth increase of honor blessednes of life and abundance of worldly felicitie and heauenly happines THe long trauell and tracing out of life in this wearisome pilgrimage right honorable hauing brought me now almost to the ende of my iourney makes me glad with a restles desire to be rid of the burthens of my minde and the labours of my body the one neuer free from studie and the other seldome voide of toyle and yet both of them neither brought great benefite to the life nor blessing to the soule in which small rest and vnquietnes many sorrowfull discourses in my dayes I haue written and numbers of bookes I haue printed and because they shall not be buried with me I challenge them all as my children to abide behinde me in the worlde to make them inheritors of such fame dispraise as their father which begat them on sweet inuention heere enioyes or deserues hoping they shall not be called bastards nor none aliue will be so hardy as to call them his babes that I haue bred in my bowels brought forth and fostred vp so carefully at mine owne charges and hazard of an enuious worlde And now indeede for that diuers of disdainfull disposition doo or may hinder the good reporte of those labors which I thinke well bestowed among my freends I haue set forth while I am liuing a great number of my works in this booke named my Challenge that after my death shalbe witnesses they were mine owne dooings not for any great matter in them but for the iustnes of troth and true triall of all my honest exercises and so to purchase credit and the more freends and fauourers to prop vp my poore reputation I not only dedicate this booke and all therein to your honor but haue made also in the same booke diuers dedications to sundry honorable and worshipfull personages protesting that there is nothing heerein but came from mine owne deuice which inuencions spoken as becomes me shal be in all honest sorte defended by pen or any way I may to the vttermost of my breath or abilitie ioying much with all gladnes of hart that they are presented to so honourable a personage and one of such singuler learning whose worth and value by a worthy and vertuous Princes is seene into and throwly considered of which gracious Queene hath alwaies made her princely choice in such an excellent and vnspeakable maner as God himselfe should deuinely appoint and direct to our great wealth and his great glory and in whose râ—re commendation all the pen men of the world may write Now good sir vnder your excellent fauour and countenance I shielde my presumption and boldenes that hath offred a booke of so many discourses to the iudgement of such a multitude that quickly can discouer the weakenes of my labors but hauing ventured so farre as to publishe them in print I must now of necessitie commit them to the common opinion of the world So in hope the best will fall out I present you with my studies and take leaue of your honor desiring of God what goodnes can be wished to be alwaies at your commaundement Dutifully and loyally in all at commaundement Thomas Churchyard To the worthiest sorte of People that gently can reade and iustly can iudge GOod Reader if my presumption were so great that I thought my booke might passe without your fauourable iudgement mine error were as much as my ouer-weening and yet to vse perswasions in purchasing your good liking I should passe the bounds of common reason and fall into the danger of adulation for your good wils are rather won with good matter then bare wordes and say what I can to gaine your affection toward my worke you will speake what seemeth best in your owne conceites For among many thousands are many of deepe consideration and some vndoubtedly of as shallow iudgement so that the one or the other cannot nor will not be led and caried away with any deuice of my pen though all the hye spirits and excellency of Poetry might drop out of the quill I writ withall wherefore now I must as well abide the hazard of your censure as I haue boldely vnfolded my selfe to the worlde there is now no crauing of pardon nor pleading for your furtherance to encrease my good fame my works must abide waight they are thrust into the ballance and I of necessitie must content me with your allowance and what price pleaseth you to set on my marchandise but if they proue too light in the skales I pray you helpe them with some graine of good skill that they be not condemned as trifles because they haue cost me great labour and study and put me to no little charges I freely offer them to you for three or foure causes the one to keep the reputation of a writer the second to pleasure my freendes with the reading of new inuentions and thirdly to desire my foes to giue me true reporte of those workes I haue made and last of all to affirme that euery thing in this my booke of Challenge is mine owne dooing which iustlye no man can deny Not boasting thereof as matter worthy memory but claiming a better regarde then enuy would giue me I stand to the praise or dispraise of all I haue done maruelling much that in my life time any one would take from me the honest laudation I deserue I striue no further in that point but commit to God and good people the indifferency and iustnes of my cause and the best is which shall beare it selfe the wise of the worlde and worthiest of knowledge and capacitie are the only Iudges shall yeeld me my right the rest are but hearers and lookers on whose voices may make a great noise but giues so vncertaine a sound they can doo no great harme because of nature and condition they neuer doo no great good Now my pleading time is past my booke must appeare in that bare fashion as I haue formed the matter I hope it shall not walke so nakedly abroade but shalbe able to abide the coldenes of ill will and the extreame heate of hatefull mens disposition God the giuer of goodnes guide my verses so well that they neuer happen into their hands that loues me not and make my prose and plainenes of speech be as welcome to the Reader as it was well ment of the writer So with double and treble blessing Farwell FINIS My next booke shalbe the last booke of the Worthines of Wales And my last booke called my Vltimum Vale shalbe if it please God twelue long tales for Christmas dedicated to twelue honorable Lords Heere followes the seuerall matters contained in this booke THe tragedie of the Earle of Morton The tragedie of sir Simon Burley A discours that a man
found me aliue Long was the talke of manie a farlye thoe Long did I looke for that which did not come But all those blasts in sine did ouerbloe I listned long to heere the sound of drumme Yet though I had the great good will of some God would not thâ—ell for one mans sake alone That broyles should cause a million make their mone When birde is limde farewell faire feathers all The fish in net maie bidde the sea adiew When world beholds a man is neere his fall It leaues him there and follows fancies newe When all is saide the olde prouerbe is true Who cannot swimme must sincke there is no boote Who hath no horse of force must goe on foote Thus â—yed to clogge and pende in prison fast My hope decaide my hart did heauie waxe So souldiers came and brought me foorth at last The butcher then began to whâ—t his axe All was on flame the fire was flowne in flaxe There was no choise I must a size abide Prooue foule or cleane and by my Peeres be tried To Edenbrough the captiue man was brought Along the fieldes where flockes of people were The sight of whom did trouble much my thought But when in deede I was ariued there Both streetes and stalles and windows euery where Were stuffed full to giue on me the gaze But that might not my manly mind amaze Yet neither one nor other small nor great Did me salute So turnde the moodes of men That colde deuice nay rather raging heate Could not appall my princely courage then For I did looke as I did nothing ken Yet knew the whole that some in secret bore So passed through the thronge what would ye more A russet cloake a garment rude and bare For such a state make what of mee they would With foule felt hat and robes but base I ware That people might my great disgrace beholde Alas poore lambe thy life was bought and soulde No force of weedes to couer clott of claye Morton was dead full longe before that daie Now Lawyers flockte and swarmde in ilke a place Now Lords repaird and Lardes came daily in Now learned heads did long debate my case Now did in deed my sorrowes all beginne Now was the time that I must lose or winne For I appeard before the iudgement seate And there maintainde my right with reasons great Made good defence to many matters sure Spake boldly still and did but iustice craue My pleading there did foure long houres endure And Lawyers then to me good leasure gaue But to what end did I long pleading haue I was condemnd the world would haue it so A thing there was but that the Lord doth know And I that héere confesse my former gylt A murther than was laide vnto my charge Which I concealde yet saw a Kings bloud spilt A fowle offence for which there is no targe Nor could not claime therefore to goe at large But byed the sence and censure of the lawes For fowle God wot and filthy was my cause The iudgement was a heauy thing to héere But what they did I could not call againe The sentence past too late my selfe to cleere Once iudgd to die condemnd I must remaine As silly shéepe in shopp must needes be slaine Then to the pot or pit our flesh must passe All flesh is dust vaine ashes earth and grasse Then thought I on some friend that absent was And spoke some words but askâ— not what they were So from the bench to prison did I pas And for to die did make me ready there The Preachers came and shed full many a teare To bring my soule in perfect patience than And make me die a faithfull christian man In secrete sort the Preachers there I told Great things of waight that in my conscience lay And so confest what right and reason would But thereon pawsde I would no further say Aske what they pleasde I did but troth bewray Whereat I knockt my troubled trembling brest And so desirde the Preachers let me rest O brethren mine your doctrine likes me well Qd. I good men bestow some praiers now In your beliefe looke that you daily dwell As you beganne so still continue through The bloud of Christ hath washt my blotted brow As white as snow I haue no doubt nor feare Shall be my sinnes that red as scarlet were The Preachers glad to bring my soule to rest Brought Scripture in and did the text vnfold And many a place and sentence they exprest Towardes the death to make my body bolde O my good Lord you may not now behold The pompe quoth they and glory that is past But you must thinke on that which aye shall last Both wealth and friends and worldly wisedome to Are banisht quite and blush to come in place When soule goes hence those things haue nought to doe With man that is then newly borne in grace The light of day hath darkenes still in chase The heauenly thoughts doe hate all earthly things And faith to clowdes doth flie with flittring wings They praide with me and wipt their wéeping eies My heauy sprite stood troubled sore that tide And as the sighes from panâ—ing heart did rise My groaning Ghost O Abba father cride The sobs flew forth the â—eares I could not hide As babe doth wéepe when he beholds the rod So then I feard the wrath of my good God Full soone reformde I was in godly wise Gaue ore the world forgot all earthly thing Heaud vp my hands and heart vnto the skies To God that did this plague vppon me bring And then I sued and sent vnto the King To scape the coard by losse of life and breath For heading was for me more Nobler death He graunted that and sad for my mishap He let me goe where God and man assignd Now euery fault lay open in my lap Each small offence came freshly to my minde The secret sinnes that we in conscience finde A muster made and passed for their pay Before great God that doth all things bewray The wrong I did to simple people plaine Bad heart â—orethinke the fury of mine ire The gréedy thirst of glory rule and gaine Made soule afeard of hote infernall fire My selfe I blamde for fleshly fond desire But falling thus full prostrate on my face From heauens hie I felt a sparke of grace Which warmd my sprites that waxed faint and cold The last conflict that in this life we haue Then comfort came and made weake body bold Care not for death for life mounts vp from graue Qd. knowledge then when Christ the soule shall saue With that I flong behinde all fearefull dread So cald for booke and many a Psalme did reade In lesse then halfe the time that I haue spoke Me thought I talkt with God whose face did shine Who from a cloude discende as thinne as smoke And entred in my breast by power diuine O mortall man said he come thou art mine Be strong and stout to fight the battell throw
For my right hand is here to helpe thée now Blush not to sée the raging worlds despite The bloudy are nor scaffolde full of bils My mercy seat shall be thy chiefe delihte And though on earth thine enimies haue their wils I am the God that stormes and tempests stils In quiet calme passe gently thou away And suffer much yet doe but little say Death is the end of all that beareth life Not one shall scape this world is but a dreame The seeds of sinne brings forth but flowres of strife In painted robes lies many a rotten seame It is but griefe to guide and rule a Realme Great charge and care a great accompt must make And when I frown the whole round world I shake I cause one wight to take anothers place To chop off heads to kill to hang and draw And when I take from rulers new my grace His head againe shall yeeld to sword and law Men blowes the cole but I put fire in straw And where doth fall the flame of my great â—e All things consumes to cinders in that fire Come Murton come and play thy pageant well Thou goest before perhaps a yeare or twaine But after thee shall passe to heauen or hell A number more that mercy now remaine World hath no stay I tell â—hee all is vaine Both raigne and rule and regall power most hie When bastards dreame in durt and dust shall lie My God thus sayd with that my sprites reuiude My wits were armde my sence redoubled than And with my flesh the holy Ghost he striude By Angels force but not by might of man A marulous stirre in stomacke then beganne For to subdue the â—arrein corps of care And burthend breast that sinfull body bare Now hope in hast made heauy heart full light The feare was fled that comes by course of law Gods promise wrought through mercy grace and might A noble worke in me cleare conscience saw A fig for death his force not worth a straw Qd. I a rush for worlds reproach and shame For written is in booke of life my name The Preachers then began to wéepe for ioy Your firme beliefe my Lord shall make you frée Qd they and sure your soule is from annoy Both in this world and where swéete Angels be And where right soone you shall Gods glory see Not with bare view but with immortall eies As body shall at latter day arise Then knéeld I downe and to the cloudes I looke The thought and care the while of world was past And I in God such ioy and pleasure tooke That at my héeles all earthly pompe I cast By this the houre of death approached fast The Gard gaue sign with halbards bright in hand I must prepare on Skaffold streight to stand The stréetes were full of souldiers armed well With shot and match and all belongs for warre I saw in house I could no lonâ—er dwell For people said the day was spent full farre Then ope the doore qd I draw backe the barre I will goe hence to better home I trust Here is no hope I see that die I must To comfort sence and strengthen vitall sprete I tasted foed and dranke a draught of wine And pawsde a while as I thought fit and méete But sure no dread of death within mine eine Was seene for God by speciall grace deuine Held vp my heart and head as high to shoe As when from home I did a walking goe Milde words I gaue when bitter spéech I hard So passed through them all with manly chéere And did no more this world nor earth regard Then though in deede I neuer had beene here But when in sight the Skaffold did appeare My minde was bent to fight the battle out And conquere death and banish feare and dout So stept I vp on Skaffold lightly than Where sundry came to aske me many a thing I lookte to God and made small count of man Saue that alowd I saide God blesse the King God giue him grace in peace the state to bring And shunne the harmes and dangers ore his head To finde on earth long life when I am dead Had I serud God aswell in euery sort As I did serue my king and maister still My scope had not this season beene so short Nor world haue â—ad the power to doe me ill But loe I liude against my makers will That feeles my flesh that feeles my soule alas That fault I feare where now my soule shall passe That that good Lord forgiue whilst breath I haue It is the sinne that to this world I brought It buried shall be with my flesh in graue It is a sore and sickenesse of the thought It is most vaine a wretched thing of nought A wicked wound that death doth heale alone Dwels last in flesh and first was bred in bone Pray you for me that sets your sinnes by mine And such as doe professe the faith I hold Marke who I am that here by power diuine Am forst this daie my conscience to vnfolde Looke neerely both to your owne Faults vntolde And pray as well for me with humble minde As for your selues that here I leaue behinde My matter stands before the iudge of all Men haue condemnd my body to the tort When that great iudge will for a reckning call Both you and I shut vp in sentence short Shall soone be known who gaines the best report There accuse ne small nor great this day My part is plaide and I must passe my way The faith this howre that all the Realme doth know I die in here and seale it with my blood To other faith beware bend not your bowe The râ—tten string will breake and doe no good Whilst in this land such trash aâ—d tromprie stood God was not pleasd the King not serude aright And we did walke in darkenes stead of light Good â—earers all my babes and children deere I brought you vp full long in this beliefe Your regent ones now preacheth to you here Chaunge not my barns religion to your griefe Serue first your God next honor King as chiefe This lesson keepe and so good friends adiew The dead from quicke so takes his leaue of you Thus full resolude temptation to resist Great time I stood and talkte in stoutest shoe Of sondry things as freely as I list But waying then that hence the soule must goe And that my necke must bide the blouddy bloe I stretched armes as hie as I could heaue So turnd my backe and did the audience leaue The heauenly hope that heart doth long vphold Did hale me hence and bad dispatch in haste As firme as rocke I stood say what they would For after this I spake no word in waste Then downe I lay and balefull blocke embraste And there receiude the blow as are did fall That cut me cleaue from cares and cumbers all The gasping head as in the Lorde I slept A vision had ye may the fame suppose I dreamde it saw how friende
faurers wept In heade that tide a straunger fancie rose The eyes behelde before the eyes did close A writer there and Churchyard loe he hight Whose pen paints out mens tragedies aright In deadly dreame my tongue callde on that man As headlesse â—olke may fumble out a word You must beleeue the tongue a tale beganne Of earnest thinges and not a trifling borde Churchyard quoth he if now thou canst afforde Mee one good verse take heere thy penne in hand And send my death to thine owne natiue lande Which in my life I loude and honourd much A cause there was let that passe oer with time Thou man I saie that didst Shores wife so touch With louing phrase and friendlie English rime When pen muse were in chiefe pride and prime Bestow some paines on him that was thy friende Whose life thou knewst seâ—st mee make mine ende These wordes pronounst the head gan bléed anew My bodie laie along like lumpe of leade The limmes stretcht out stiâ—e as stake they grew And vnder cloath of blacke was made my bedd On thicke hard boordes that world might see me dead There did I lodge till starrs appearde in skye And goring bloode had glutted gasers eye Thus Churchyard now in wandring vp downe About affaires perhaps that toucht him nere Saw on Tolbothe in Edenborough towne My sencelesse head before his face appeare Why Morton then quoth he and art thou héere That long didst raigne and rule this Realme of late Then ruine and wracke oerreacheth each estate An Emperors life puft vp with pompe pride Maie not compare with plaine ploughman quoth he The climing foote is apt to slippe and slide The studious braine shall selde in suretie bee A bitter blast sone bites the brauest trée At honors seate blinde boltes men dailie shoote And wretched hap riues vp renowne by roote No wit nor wealth preuailes against mischaunce Whom fortune hates the people doe disdaine As wisdomes grace doth worthie witts aduaunce So priuie hate throwes downe hie harts againe The whitest clothe will take the greatest staine It is not strange to sée great men to fall For too much trust of worlde deceiues vs all Why doe wée wish to weald a world at will What follows pompe but hazard of good name Why would wise men in pleasure wallow still The end of toyle makes soule and bodie tame They take no rest that runnes still after fame Great charge breeds griefe and brings on care apace Great honor rules and lasteth but a space Who trauells farre comes wearie home at night The mounting Larke comes down to foulers hand Great birdes are borne about with feathers light All great renowne on tickle propps doth stand All wordlie blisse is builded on the sand Which when a puffe of winde beginnes to bloe In peeces small the painted postee will goe To greatest trées the birdes doe daily flock On highest hils wée walke to take the ayre And sudden stormes giue greatest oke a shock The ground is bare where many feete repayre All people drawe vnto a goodly faire But where most haunte is founde with iudging eye There is least hope and doth most daunger lye The fayre it selfe where all is bought and solde Showes méere deceipt to him that buies and sells The enemies strength striues still with strongest holde Disdaine doth drawe where greatest honor dwels All flies repayre to flowers of swéetest smells Each wicked worme to soundest kernell goes Ten thousand wéeds do growe about a rose Because the seate of honor standeth hye The baser sort do bend the browe thereat And honor is a moate in enuies eye Who vily thinkes and speaks he knows not what By enuies brute that bitter biting gnatt A blister growes in soft and smothest skinne So skarrs arise where cleerest shew hath binne O malice great thou monster sent from hell The heauens hate to heare thy naughty name If world thee skorn thou knowst not where to dwell O fugitiue O sonne of open shame No wisdomes lore nor men of noble fame Can scape thy scourge it giues so sore a yarke And so thy boltes are shot at eache good marke Men may not liue though great they are of race For malice rage and enuie now a dayes Proude practise proules about in eurie place To breede debate and cut of good mens praise Where malice sowes the séedes of wicked waies Both honor quailes and creadit crackes with all Of noâ—lest men and such as feares no fall At goodlie fruite that growes on topps of trées The people gase and somtime kudgels flinge Disdaine repines at all good things it sees And so like snakes doth enuie shoote his sting The angrie waspes are still about a king Who â—eekes by swarmes to hurt true meaning still So workes great harmes to those that thinks no ill True honor may full long in fauour bée If rigors wrath and malice did not meete And malice might lies not in meane degree It closely lurkes in craft and cunning sprete First fine deuice can kisse both handes and feete Then draw the knife that cuts the harmlesse throte Thus honor is by drifts in daunger gote These deadly driftes drinkes déepest riuers drie Sincks greatest grounds belowe past helpe of man Flings flat on floore the statelye buildings hye Shakes downe great harts let wit doe what he can Fine drift is hee that mischiefe first beganne Against whose force no reason maie resist That awefull worme on earth doth what it liâ—t Then noble birth and vertues rare must stowpe When daie is come and destines strikes the stroke This cunning world may make great minds to drowpe UUhen we are câ—lde men needs must draw the yoke UUhen life goes out our breath is but a smoke UUhen at the dore our drerie death doth knocke Take key in hand wee must turne backe the locke Who would haue thought Earle Morton should haue fell A graue wise man and gouernde manie a daye Rulde all at home and vsde his wit so well In foreine Realmes hee bare a wonderous swaie Of worldes affaires hee knew the readie waye Yet knowledge failde and cunning knew no boote When fortune came and tript him with her foote Loe lookers on what staie remaines in state Loe how mans blisse is but a blast of winde Borne vnto bale and subiect to debate And makes an ende as destine hath assignde Loe heere as oft as Morton comes to minde Dispise this worlde and thinke it nothing straunge For better place when we our liues doe chaunge FINIS qd T. C. SIR SIMON BVRLEIS TRAGEDIE who liued in the xi yeare of Richarde the seconde Looke Frozard the last part Fol. 108. AM I of blood or yet of birth so base O Baldwin now that thou forgetst my name Or doth thy penne want cunning for that case Or is thy skill or senses fallen lame Or dost thou feare to blase abroade my fame O shew some cause wherefore I sit in shade And why is thus my Tragedie vnmade UUho thinkes great scorne in
doth destine giue And so with sorrowes breake the hart that hath no will to liue Good fréend quoth she haste not thine end with passions of the minde Hope after hap the world may mend thou maist good fortune finde No sure my glasse of life is runne Death drawes on me so fast I see my daies are almost done life may no longer last My haples yeares and aged bones desires no being heere To graue I go with sighs and grones I buy bad life too deere With losse of blood of time and youth and all that precious is With loyall seruice toile and truth and hope of earthly blisse All in one ballance now goes downe since guerdon get I none Nor no account in Court nor towne now I may hap vpon Adue day light shut close mine eies too long you stare for nought So farewell friends and you be wise for me take you no thought By this our ships were wend about and Cannons gan to rore As they to Brytaine passed out with bounsing shot great store At noyse whereof I wakned straight and calling for my close And saw the Sunne on such a height that sodainly I rose And so put all my dreame in verse would God a dreame it were For many things I now rehearse wil prooue too true I feare FINIS To the right honourable my Lady Puckering wife to the most honorable the L. keeper of the great seale of England GOod Madam strange it may seeme that a meere stranger to your Ladiship â—are aduenture to dedicate any peece of vvorke vvhere bold attempt and labour may be but strangely vnderstood if a greater hope in your goodnes exceeded not the greatnes of my matter but my 〈◊〉 your most honorable husbands bountifull dealings with me of late makes me the bolder because I must be thankful in this presumptioâ—◠〈◊〉 present some acceptable peâ—ce of that small talent God hath giuen me to your good L. as vvell to be knovven of you as to keepâ— me in my L. fauour and though that vvhich I oâ—fer be skarce vvorthy the taking Yet I trust first my seruiceable present hall not be misliked because the receiuing vvell thereof may procure a further peece of vvork better penned such as shall best become me to present as knovveth God 〈◊〉 novv and at all times augment his good gifts of grace in your good Ladiship LOng time in sute and seruice gets some grade Long crauing gaines both crust and crome ye know Long walking rids great ground away apace Long vse of legs makes traueiler easly go Long watching tâ—â—d brings ebbe at length to floâ— So loyall loue and dutie long in vre Full many waies doth great good will procure Whereon good turnes springs out as from a flood Runnes gushing waues that waters euery soile Whose moisture doth both fruit and flower much good And profite bringâ— to Plowmans painefull toile This faire land flood kept barren field from foile For if no deaw of heauen I had found Hot sommers drouth had soone dried vp my ground The fountaine had her course no sooner run With golden streames that cordiall is of kinde But straight began to shine the gladsome Sâ—n That sucker sends to tree to root and rinde The frost did thaw with milde warme westerne winde And all the springs and conduits of the towne Ran Claret wine in honour of the crowne When bill assignd by sute from Prince had past Lord how the world â—lood therewith well content The Clearkes they wrote and fréely laboured fast The seales were wonne when purse no penny spent The waxe was wrought throw grace that God had sent So seale and waxe and all that name I can Came franckly of to me from euery man Lo how hard world by meanes is easie made And mens good wils with tract of time we gaine In spring it sprouts at fall of leafe did fade The grasse grows greene with little showres of raine I reapt the crop and fruit of others paine What néeds more words each place where I did go For Princes grace did me great fauour sho They knew that Court had cleane consumde my youth And plead mine age with pretie pension now If so they thought in déed they gest the truth For youth and age perforce is pleased throw Saue that they bid me make my pen my plow And prooue awhile what printed bookes will doo To helpe old Tom to get a supper too But blest be her that did the dinner giue With too much meat we may a surfeit take Long with good rule and diet men may liue Full belly oft an emptie purse may make He feedeth best that eats for hungers sake Than porcion poore makes men ne proud nor rich Yet one good meale a day doth please me mich Where am I now I speake of liberall men That fréely gaue the seales and all the rest Which déed deserues both thankes and praise of pen For that is all from me they haue possest This course would make the learned Lawyers blest If of poore men they tooke no fee at all Whose wrongs are great and riches is but small To trot and trudge two hundreth miles or more And spend their goods in toyling too and fro And be long pincht with paine and labour sore And then compeld to costly tearme to go Craues great regard of them that conscience know Than wise graue heads that looks through euery cause Defend the poore with fauour of your lawes Their plaints may pearce through highest heauens all Their praiers brings great blessings to your dore Your fame doth rise where they good words let fall For happie are the hands that helpes the poore This sentence should be written on the floore Who can do good to those that stands in need Shall reape much corne where sowne was litle séed When iustice flowes from liberall noble mind Good turns in world wil make men liue like Saints When good cheap law poore silly soules do find The Court is not long troubled with complaints Franke heart goes throw where feeble courage faints Bountie winnes loue and lasts for euer more Who doth great good and little takes therefore The poore are more in number euery where Then are the rich that haue the world at wil Wherefore the more we ought with them to beare Because they liue in lacke and sorrow stil. The Lord that sits on his hie holy hill Lookt lowly down on Lazarus the poore That humbly askt an almes at Diues doore Most precious are the poore to God aboue Though heere below they walke like lambes were lost And one good turne to them doth get more loue Then fortie things we doe for worldly boast Who saues a ship that is with tempest tost And brings the barke where helpe and harbour is For thankful paines shall purchase heauen blisse When that great Iudge shal come to iudge vs all Such as did helpe the poore shal happy be For then that Iudge wil for those people call Who to the poore were alwaies franke
shines so passing faire That sunne nor moone nor weather cannot staine If blastes of winde and stormes to beautie yelde And this well springe makes other fountaines drye Turnes tides and floodes to water baraine feeld Come sighes then home I liue and cannot die If her great giftes doth daunt dame fortunes might And she haue caught the hayres and head ot hap To others hard to her a matter light To mount the cloudes and fall in honours lap If shee her selfe and others conquers too Liues long in peace and yet doth warre defie As valiaunt kinges and vertuous victors doe Then sighe no more o heart I cannot die If such a prince abase her highnesse than For some good thing the world may gesse in mee And stoupes so low too like a sillie man That little knowes what Princes grace may bée If shee well waie my faith and seruice true And is the iudge and toutch that gold shall trie The colour cleere that neuer changeth hue Heart sigh no more I liue and may not dye If I doe vse her fauour for wy weale By reason off her gracious countenance still And from the sunne a little light I steale To keepe the life in lampe to burne at will If robberie thus a true man may commit Both I and mine vnto her merits flie If I presume it springes for want of wit Excuse mee than sad sighes or else I die If she do know her shape in heart I beare Engraude in breast her grace and figure is Yea day and night I thinke and dreame each where On nothing else but on that heauenly blisse If so transformde my mind and body liues But not consumde nor finde no cause to cry And waite on her that helpe and comfort giues Than come poore sighes your maister shall not die If she behold that here I wish no breath But liue all hers in thought in word and déede Whose fauour lost I craue but present death Whose grace attaind lean soule full fat shall féede If any cause doe keepe her from my sight I know no world my selfe I shall deny But if her torch doe lend my candle light Heart sigh no more the body doth not die But if by death or some disgrace of mine Through enuies sting or false report of foes My view be bard from that sweete face diuine Beleeue for troth to death her seruant goes And rather sure than I should ill conceiue Sighes mount to skies you know the cause and why How here below my lusty life I leaue Attend me there for wounded heart must die If shée beléeue without her presence héere That any thing may now content my minde Or thinke in world is sparke of gladsome cheere Where shée is not nor I her presence finde But all the ioyes that man imagine may As handmaides wayt on her héere vnder sky Then sighes mount vp to heauens hold your way And stay me there for I of force must die If I may feare that fragill beauty light Or semblance faire is to be doubted sore Or my vaine youth may turne with fancies might Or sighes full falles â—ains griefe or torment more Than heart doth féele then angry stars aboue Doe band your selues gainst me in heauens hie And rigor worke to conquer constant loue Mount vp poore sighes here is no helpe I die And so sad sighes the witnes of my thought If loue finde not true guerdon for good will Ere that to graue my body shalbe brought Mount vp to clowds and there abide me still But if good hope and hap some succour send And honor doth my vertuous minde supply With treble blisse for which I long attend Returne good sighes I meane not now to die Translated out of French for one that is bounde much to Fortune FINIS This is to be red fiue waies IN hat a fauour worne a bird of gold in Britaine land In loyall heart is borne yet doth on head like Phenix stand To set my Phenix forth whose vetues may theÌ„ al surmount An orient pearle more worth in value price good accounnt TheÌ„ gold or precious stone what tong or verse dare her distain A péerelesse paragon in whom such gladsome gifts remaine Whose séemly shape is wroght as out of war wer made y e mold By fine deuise of thought like shrined Saint in beaten gold Dame nature did disdaine and thought great scorn in any sort To make the like againe that should deserue such rare report Ther néeds no Poeâ—â—s pen nor painters peniel come in place Nor flatring frase of meÌ„ whose filed spech giues ech thing grace To praise this worthy dame a Nimph which Dian holds full déer That in such perfect frame as mirror bright christal cléer Is set out to our view thréefold as faire as shining Sunne For beauty grace and hue a worke that hath great glory won A Goddes dropt from sky for causes more then men may know To please both minde eie for those that dwels on earth below And shew what heauenly grace and noble secret power diuine Is séene in Prâ—ncely face that kind hath formd â—â—amd so fine Loe this is all I write of sacred Phenix ten times blest To shew mine own delite as fancies humor thinketh best FINIS TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPfull my Ladie Brocket wife to Sir Iohn Brocket knight one of the Lieutenants of Hartford Shire A Promise made to the good Ladie you Sister who died in the Towre good MadaÌ„ coÌ„mands me to shape somwhat of good will labour of pen to present your La withall for that I can not long liue in this world must needs take leaue therof sooner than I looke for I haue found out an old farewell that maie breed some new consideration and such a running and rouing rime it is I hope without offence as rather shall procure laughter than lowring it is enterlarded with conceits and mixed with familiar termes shortlie knit vp and without all curious circumstances as briefe to the Reader as vntedious to the writer hauing passed the censure of the world thirtie yeares agoe and is now put in print againe for a passing of the time and a farewell to the world So hoping your La receiues it in good part the matter beginneth I trust to your content and good likeing FINIS A FAREVVELL VVHEN I VVENT to studie written to the VVorld FArewell thou world that me betrayde so long Too dearly bought I find thy follies all Who shall thée serue is sure to suffer wronge Who scornes thy haps may shun thy sodaine fall Who fauwnes on thee shall drinke thy bitter gall Who flies thy toyes thy painted face shall finde Who sooner slides than those which at thy call Liues like thy slaues in bodie soule and minde First from a child with fancies was I fedd All at thy handes till I to manhoode grue Than in the darke loe blindfeld was I led So that my God my selfe nor man I knew Wild wit young blood olde vice new bred in bones
dayly troubles great Yea where a storme or braule is once begun All bitter blasts repairs and breathes out heat the eyes will stare the face will frowne and sweat The tung must clap the head wil shake and nod And hart within hath cleane forgotten God Fréends must be wrought with blades to band it out Foes must be whipt and scourged in their kinde Worlde shalbe tost and turned round about Still to maintain the mischeefe of the minde Tale bearers then shall lye within the winde To bring bad newes and set the house a fier That flamde before with sparkes of spites desire My practise strange can all these plagues vnfolde That better were lapt vp in silence héerâ— Too late to call againe that tung hath tolde The wise should sell their words and worship déere But since in world my selfe I cannot cleere I wil goe through this heauy tale of mine That world may well at wicked waies repine Long after this he heard that I lay sicke And then from Court he comes with right great spéed Do comfort me that was both sound and quick To play the Fox or knaue againe for néed But though that time I would not be agréede I tooke his wine and sent him so away With scorne enough in signe of parting day For since that time he neuer saw my face Nor had no minde to come where was my haunt And since that storme I had so little grace In euery soile I make my boste and vaunte I conquerd him and so I doo you graunt For three yéeres more I haue doon what I please And liue at large in lust and lordly ease And these fiue yéeres I haue doon what I can By tung and art and figures that I cast And euery way to shame my plaine good man which shame I feare will sure be mine at last I am so learnd I can play loose and fast My skill is such in Planets hye and low I rule the Skies and heauens where I goe Good Fortunes sure some say that I can tell And many things by figures I vnfolde I say no more but wish that all were well For he that doth this wicked world beholde whose Godhead séeeth into this massie moulde Knowes well how oft I tread my shooe awry And in what plight my sinfull soule dooth lye And if this God regarde with angry chéere The vice on earth that vainely we commit And straitly looke vnto my dooings heere And like a Iudge in trembling conscience sit I am condemd there serues ne force nor wit Out is my Lamp the oyle hath lost his light And my faire day is turnd to foule blacke night The searching heads that sifts my manners throw Will shrinke aside when I draw néere their view The wiuely dames that seeth my blotted brow In my behalfe will blush and change their hue The gentle harts that others harmes doth rue Will much lament my life so lewdly runne And cleane vntwist the threed good name hath spun The basest dame whose faults are borne in brest Wil scorne to heare my folly blazde abroad The frumping flocke at me will make a iest The spitefull swarme wil poulte and swell like tode My guilty minde that beares moste heauy lode Will sinke downe right when worlde shall talke of grace And shame her selfe will slubber all my face The two braue boies I had from husbands bed That Stoner got staines now my honest name And witnes beares to world when I am dead Of secret sins that purchast open shame I kept that close long like a cunning dame Till husband had found out my paultring life Then he at Bathe forsooke his cogging wife The foule reports that dayly I giue him Rebounds like ball to mine owne bosome straight Yet I with craft fac'te out the matter trim But still I beare the blot for all my sleight My backe so crackes vnder this heauy weight That all the ioynts and bones I beare about Uofoldes my faults and filthy manners out The sober sorte that sets by noble brute Will shake their heads as they my boldenesse spie The clapping tungs will neuer sure be mute Shreawd people all will shewe alowryng eye But still I feare the Lorde that sits on hye Will loke more strange on me so late disgraste Then all the worlde that here beneath are plaste The Church wherin both faith and hand I gaue Shall witnes beare of breach of promise due The spousall bed and mariage day so braue Shall make me calde forsworne and most vntrue the holye booke the olde law and the new Against my soule shall such sharpe sentence giue In other worlde where sprite desires to liue Let matrons chaste and modest wiues eche one That falshood hates and loues their troth to kéepe In fury come and fling at me a stone And let no wight my death bewaile nor wéep Let daies vnrest and dreadfull dreames in sléepe Pursue me still and bring me to my graue Since God and man I so offended haue The steps I tread shall tell me my offence the féelds I walke shall bring my fault to minde The harmes I did in worlde shall haste me hence The wealth I wish shall waste and weare with winde The fame I séeke shall fling me far behinde And all good things that vertuous wiues enioy At my most need shal turne to mine annoy The wise that weighes my wiles in ballance right Shall see my wit want weight and be but baâ—e The foole himselfe shall finde my iudgement light In making choise to chop and change my race The poore shall point at me in euery place The rich and those that sway and rule doth heare With curbe of Law shall bring lewde life in feare The freends I had shall froune and shun my sight The foes I haue shall follow me with shame The neighbour loue that pleasde me day and night Shall now draw backe and looke on losse of name The merrie mate and homely countrey dame And all the towne and soyle where I was borne In Parish Church shall laugh my life to scorne The bande once broke that God himselfe hath blest Brings worldly woe and curses in by swarmes The mariage marde that God made for mans rest Turnes vpside downe from happie helpe to harmes The Bridall bed defiled with lothsome charmes Breedes wicked smoke and smoothing slanders base On whose foule sume a worlde of people gaze The knot of loue vnknit by hateful cause Calles greefes to count and cries to clouds for aide The lewde contempt and breach of sacred lawes Makes euery howre offendour sore afraid The fickle faith that is with scourges paide Bids falshood flie the plague that is preparde For those who lookes to life with small regarde No rouffling troupe that sâ—ash and swill vp wine Can ward the blowes that wrath of God sends downe No cunning knacks nor knacking fetches fine Can conquer troth and thrust him out of towne No treasons traine can take way true renowne No cloud can cloke the craft that all
mourning chéere to part from them God knowes For children finde small comfort héere when hence the mother goes If God moue not the Princes minde to pittie their estate Now as the Ladie did at large about her Babes debate Uppon her déere bought iewell than shée cast her onely thought Yea for whose sake and great good will shee was in trouble brought And pausing on this matter through a heauie sigh she gaue O good sir Knight sayd shee to one a thing of you I craue Commend me to my worthy friend and bid him comfort take And hope in God and Princes grace though I doe world forsake He may doe well and freedome get but mée hee shall not méete Till from the caue of pampred flesh departes his groning spréete Whiles life I had I honoured him and safely kept my vow As life did bind mee his in all so death doth loose mée now From him and all my worldly ioyes but though my friend I leaue On high where dwells a greater freind if hope not mée deceauâ— I trust to sée his babes and him and though much griefe it is To leaue them heere in bitter bale yet note I goe to blisse Where is no mind of combrous cares nor cause of sorrow knowne O tell him that aboue I hope these stormes shall be ore blowne And as a scroule is â—apped vp yea so shall all thinges héere When soule shall be immortall made vnto our view appeere No sooner of the soule shée spoke but sodaine chaunge beganne In lookes and limmes of deadly showâ— with colour pale and wan The eyes did stare the bodie stretch the strength and force did faile The teeth they chattered in the Cheekes the handes did quake and quayle The mouth did some the head did shake the flesh it quiuered fast The feet waxt cold the face did sweate full swift the pulses past The heart did heaue and beat in breast the breath like earth did sent At eares and nose the stiffled Ghost and vitall life sought vent Though gasping breath brought passioÌ„s on and gripâ— hâ—r heart full hard Yet showd she through those sharpe assaults to â—rend a great regard And calling for a boâ—e of Kinges among them chose shee one In which was set by cunning Art a rich and precious stone Hold carrie this quoth shee good Sir to my deere noble Knight He can remember what that stone presents vnto his sight The other token that I send it is a waightie ring Best likt and dearest bought God wot of any earthly thing And when you shall giue him this gift desire him well to minde The little Impes the pretty soules the babes I leaue behinde And bid him bring them vp in feare of God and Prince I saie Lâ—e that is all I doe require of him my dying daie I haue no gold to send my Babes but blessing I them giue Which God confirme with grace good storâ— as long as they shall liue O yet there is another ring which loe my lone must sée Where is my picture death I meane and tell my friend from mee That I as colde and sencelesse too shall be in little space As is that shaddow dum and deaffe and spritelesse shape of face This done shée turnde her head aside and bad them all farewell Twere good quoth shee in signe of death I heard the passing bell For such as liue may pray the while and know when bell doth toule Into the bowells of the earth the bodie parts from soule Yet meete they shall when trumpet sounds and that the dead arise And both together shall ascende I hope to starrie skies With this beganne the battell fierce betwéene her life and death Like Ghost shée lay whiles heart did grone and mouth gepte wide for breath Then sayd shee Lord into thy handes I doe commend my spréeâ— And so her selfe closde vp her eyes and hid her head in sheet And went awaie like infant young cleane voyde of storme or rage Or like a bodie falls a sléepe that cannot speake for age Thus breathlesse lay this Lady now like weightie lump of clay That earst had life and feeling force and past like floure away But when the newes of this was brought vnto her Playffeers eares With roaring voyce and blubbred eyes there gushed out such teares That witnest well with outward signes what woe heâ— felt within And truely tolde when shée did ende his delour did beginne Be rest of sleepe and robde of rest hée romed vp and downe And cast of wéedes of worldly pompe and clapt on mourning Gowne No ease nor pleasures could possesse nor féele the taste of meate Resolude to pine and staâ—â—e himselfe his griefes they were so great No councell could him comfort long and still alone he drue To mourne to mâ—ane to houle and cry and make complaint anâ—e And worne away with woefull sighes when sorrow helped not At length the life must be sustaynde with some reliefe yée wot But how he takes this mischiefe yet and how the matter goeth It passeth farre my reach and wit to iudge I tell you troth His Ladie gene as you haue heard when dayes and yeares were spent In thraldome long yet after that was better fortune seâ—t For into Princes grace againe hee came by blessed chaunce And so he liues in open Worlde where vertue may aduaunce Both him and many thousandes more that Noble liues doe leade And wisely walke with vpright mindes and steps of honour treade Loe héere you Dames of high renowne a Ladies death set out Whose life for faith full few shall finde that seekes wide world about To God and Prince repentaunt sure to worlde a mirrour bright Wherefore with tongue and true report resounde her prayse a â—ight FINIS Syr Symon Burley complains to him that knowes what sorrow meanes Sir Simon brought vp at Schoole with the Prince of Wales and Aquitayne Into Galatia to coÌ„duct Don Petro King of Castell Sir Simon was sent as one of chiefest for that purpose Hee appeased an vprore in the Citty of London The Dutches of Burbon prisoner and did raunsome Sir Simon Burley One Pascall was sent from the K. of Nauarhether for sauiour and Kinge Richarde made Sir Simon answer the Ambasdor the Earl of Salisbury and other in presence Kinge Richarde sent him to conclude a mariage and the Duke of Tasson was sent hither with Sir Simon from the king of Beam Almaine aboute this matter He was Lorde Chamberlain The Earle of Oxford called duke of IrelaÌ„d fauored much 〈◊〉 Simon The band that the duke made against the king the duke of Yorke the Earle of Salisbury the earle of Arundell the earle of Northumberland the earle of NottinghaÌ„ the archbishop of Canterburie A noble of euery 〈◊〉 in England was the taxe that the naughty duke sayd the king did demaund The Duke of Glocester and Duke of York with others maligned those the king fauoured King Richards best friends were by traytors frowardly handled The Bishop of Canterbury accusde him of sacrilege conuaying money ouer the Sea by night to the king of Beam The Prince of Orâ—nge M. Candeler maister of the assuraunces in the Royall Exchange is aliue witnesse to this M. Iosephe Loupo his Brother Peter two excellent musitionâ— are aliue witnesse to this in like sorte For poisning her maister A right figure of death A patterne of Death