The flowers haue had a frost each hearbe hath lost her sauor And Phillida the faire hath lost the comfort of her fauor Now all these carefull sights so kill me in conceit That how to hope vpon delights it is but meere deceit And therefore my sweet Muse that knowst what help is best Do now thy heauenly cunning vse to set my heart at rest And in a dreame bewray what fate shall be my friend Whether my life shall still decay or when my sorow end A Sonet THe prettie Turtle-doue that with no little mone When she hath lost her louing mate sits mourning all alone The Swan that alwaies sings an houre before hir death Whose deadly gripes do giue the grones y t draw away hir breath The Pellican that pecks the blood out of hir brest And by her death doth only feed her yong ones in the nest The Hart imparked close within a plot of ground Who dare not ouer-looke the pale for feare of huÌ„ters 〈◊〉 The Hound in kenell tied that heares the chase go by And boâ—…tles wishing foot abrode in vaine doth howle cry The Tree with withered â—…op that hath his branches dead And haÌ„geth down his hiest bowes while other hold vp head Endure not halfe the death the sorow nor disgrace That my poore wretched mind abides where none caÌ„ wail my case For truth hath lost his trust more deare then Turtle-doue And what a death to such a life that such a pain doth proue The Swan for sorrow sings to see her death so â—…e I die because I see my death and yet I cannot die The Pellican doth feed their yong ones with their blood I bleed to death to feed desires that neuer do me good My heart imparked round within the ground of griefe Is to beset with hounds of hate it lookes for no reliefe And sweet desire my dogge is clogged so with care He cries and dies to heare delights come not where they are My tree of true delight is sabd with sorrow so As but the heauens do sooner helpe will be his ouerthrow In summe my dole my death and my disgrace is such As neuer man that euer liu'd knew euer halfe so much A Poem GO Muse vnto the Bower whereas my mistres dwels And tell her of her seruaÌ„ts loue but tel her nothing els And speake but in her eare that none may heare but she That if she not the sooner helpe there is no helpe for me Not that I â—…eare to speake but it is strange to heare That shee will neuer looke on him that holds her loue so deare Perhaps she knowes it not or if she do she will not Yet let her kindnes haue a care that though she hurt she kil not And though it be to strange yet let her this beleue me That dead meÌ„ liue yet I am dead yet liue if she releue me For yet are not so colde the coales of kinde desire But in the ashes liues a sparke to kindle loue a fire Which fier his fuell hath but from those fairest eies Where faith doth burne fancie flame fauor neuer dies A Poem PUre of the faire that neuer fadeth hue Exceeding sweet that euery sweet exceedeth Neere to the heauens where highest glaces growe ' Excellent fruit that such a fancie feedeth Loue in the eyes and honour in the heart O Princes Angelles Goddesse heauenly feature Perfection farre aboue all natures arte Exception none was euer such a creature Rich vertuous wise faire courteous comely kinde Ioy to the hearts of all that doo beholde her Courtly of grace and of a princely minde High in the heauens the Angels haue enrolde her A Pastorall MIne eyes haue seene the Idoll of my heart Mine eyes haue heard the wonder of the wise Mine heart hath toucht the comfort of mine eyes Nowe handes be true vnto your happie heart Tongue say thy heart shall all in silence serue Heart to thy head doo not thy thoughts impart Eyes see the sight that doth your sight preserue And nowe thou eye thou tongue thou hand and heart But looke or speake or touch or turne awrie The heauens pronounce the due of your desart Be true and liue but if a Traitor die A Poem LIke to an Hermit poore in place obscure I meane to spende my dayes in endlesse doubt To waile such woes as time cannot recure Where none but loue shall euer finde me out My foode shall be of care and sorrow made My drinke nought else but teares falne from mine eyes And for my light in such obscured shade The flames shall scrue that from my heart arise A gowne of griefe my bodie shall attire And broken hope the staffe of all my stay Of late repentance linkt with long desire The Couch is made whereon my bones to lay And at my gate Dispaire shall linger still To let in Death when Loue and Fortune will Of his Mistresse loue TO trie whose art and strength did most excell My Mistresse Loue and faire Diana met The Ladies three forthwith to shooting fell And for the prize the richest Iewell set Sweete Loue did both her bowe and arrowes gage Diana did her bewtie rare lay downe My Mistresse pawnde her crueltie and rage And she that wanne had all for her renowne It fell out thus when as the match was done My Mistresse gat the bewtie and the bowe And streight to trie the weapons she had wonne Upon my heart she did a shaft bestow By Bewtie bound by Loue and Uigor slaine The losse is mine where hers was all the gaine Of a discontented minde POets come all and each one take a penne Let all the heads that euer did indite Let Sorrow rise out of her darkest denne And helpe an heart an heauie tale to write And if all these or any one can touch The smallest part of my tormenting paine Then will I thinke my griefe is not so much But that in time it may be healde againe But if no one can once come neare the thought Of that I feele and no man else can finde Then let him say that deare his cunning bought There is no death to discontented minde Of his Mistresse beautie WHat ailes mine eies or are my wits distraught Do I not see or know not what I see No maruell though to see that wonder wrought That on the earth an other cannot be What ment the gods when first they did creat you To make a face to mocke all other features Angels in heauen will surely deadly hate you To leaue the world so full of foolish creatures Cheeks that enâ—…haine the highest harts in thrall Is it set downe such faire shall neuer fade you Hands that the harts of highest thoughts appall Was not Minerua mad when she had made you Faire looks on you and fate well Bewties grace Wise why your wits the wisest doth abash Sweet where is sweet but in your sweetest face Rich to your will all treasure is but trash Oh how these hands are catching at those eyes To
BRITTONS BOWRE OF Delights CONTAYNING Many most delectable and fine deuices of rare Epitaphes pleasant Poems Pastorals and Sonets By N. B. Gent. Imprinted at London by Richard Ihones at the Rose and Crowne neere Holborne Bridge 1591. To the Gentlemen Readers GENTLEMEN I present you here in the Authours absence with sundrie fine Deuices and rare conceytes in English verse by the names of Epitaphes Poems Pastorals and Sonets some of worthines and some of wantonnes yet all in my poore censure wittie pleasant commendable It any like you as I hope they wil partly for the well penning of them but specially for the Subiet and worthinesse of the persons they doo concerne though happly you esteeme the rest of lesse regard I then haue my desire and count my labour and charges well bestowed I am onely the Printer of them chiefly to pleasure you and partly to profit my selfe if they prooue to your good liking if otherwise my hope is frustrate my labour lost and all my cost is cast away Pardon mee good Gentlemen of my presumption protect me I pray you against those Caâ—…ellers and findfaults that neuer like of any thing that they see printed though it be neuer so wel compiled And where you happen to find any fault impute it to bee committed by the Printers negligence then otherwise by any ignorance in the Author and especially in A 3 about the middest of the page for lime or lead I pray you read it line or lead So shall your poore Printer haue iust cause hereafter to be more carefull and acknowledge himselfe most bounden at all times to do you seruice to the vtmost of his power Yours R. I. Printer Amoris Lachrimae A most singular and sweete Discourse of the life and death of S. P. S. Knight AMong the woes of those vnhappie wights That haue set downe the sorrowes of their time Whose liues are most deuoid of al delights And passe in griefe the pleasures of their prime Let me discourse the secrets of my care More then conceyte or sorrow can declare Some loose their wealth it is a slender losse My life hath lost the treasure of my trust Some loose their health alas a common crosse My lifes delight is buried in the dust Some loose their friendes it is no one mans woe I lost a friend such one there are no moe Some loose their loue a sorrow neere the heart In kinde affect the crosse of onely crosses Some loose their liues where sorrowes neuer part Some loose themselues in thinking of their lossess More then my selfe is such a friend bereft me All wealth nor health nor loue nor life hath left me And shall I tell what kinde of man he was Whome thus I lou'de and neuer creature hated Imagine first it dooth my reason passe To write of him whome hiest power created For euerie part that vertue had desired 〈◊〉 of the heauens and of the world admired Yet as my heart for griefe and sorrow can I will describe the substance of his state In childish yeares he was esteemd a man And halfe a man more halfe a magistrate On whome the Arts and Muses so attended As all in all for all he was commended Whose wisdome was not seene in wanton toies And though a wanton yet not deuoid of wit Of worldly ieasts he neuer made his toies Although sometimes he had a taste of it For let the best that liues do what he can In some things yet he shewes himself a man But if on earth there were a man diuine For Natures gifts and Vertues secret grace Then giue me leaue to say this loue of mine Was here too good to haue a dwelling place But liues in heauen in some high Angels office Where God himselfe dooth vse him in his seruice To say yet more what in effect he was Let this suffice in summe he was a man Whose heauenly wisedome found the way to passe More then the power of Wit and Reason can In whose attempts the world thus well did know him Nothing but death could euer ouerthrow him Comely of shape and of a manly face Noble in birth and of a princely minde Kinde in effect and of a courtly grace Courteous to all and carefull of the kinde Valure and Vertue Learning Bountie Loue These were the parts that did his honour proue Whose full perfection thus hath wisedome peased His wordes were substance and his deeds diuine Reason the ground whereon his hope were raysed Labour his life and Learning was his line Truth was his loue and Triall his intent Care his couceipt and Honour his content He spake no worde but carried full his waight He nothing did that euer tooke disgrace He had no minde to muse vpon deceyte He built in heauen his onely byding place He lou'd the Church where Saints do build the steepls And sought the worlde where Angels are the people He trauaild farre when he was neerest home Where was no earth he could behold a land He sawe a house without eare lime or lome And saild the seas where there was neuer sand He sounded depths without eare lime or lead And found out life where other meÌ„ were dead He fearde no foe nor euer sought a friend He knew no want and made no care of wealth He nought begun but had a care to end And neuer lou'd the honour had in stealth By fire and sword he wonne his worthy fame That hath aduaunc'd the honour of his name In all the skie he honoured but a starre That was his course of all his kind affection Whose flame was nere although the fire a farre Gaue him the light of loues direction He was so kind and constant where he loued As once resolu'd he could not he remoued His hands was free to helpe the needie hart His heart was franke to fill the emptie hand His most desire was to reward desart And holde vp state where honour could not stande His onely iâ—…y was honour of the stelde To conquere men and make the Captaines yeelde Much was his care and of his Countrey most Little his ioy and in himselfe the least All for his friend did seeme but little cost Yet to himselfe a little was a feast High was their happe that might but be about him Death is their life that mourne to be without him Nowe iudge the life in leauing such a ioy The death in losse of such a daintie friend What may remoue the roote of this annoy Or howe this griefe may euer haue an ende And if it be a care incurable Thinke of the death where it is â—…urable To liue in death is but a dying life To die in life is but a liuing death Betwixt these two is such a deadly strife As make me draw this melancholike breath Wherein conceite dooth liue so discontented As neuer heart was euer so tormented A torment onely made but for the minde A minde ordainde but onely to distresse And such distresse as can no comfort finde But leaues
Whose yeres with cares whose eies with teares beswolne That in each part all parts of griefes doth find To grace his ill send such a man to me That am more haplesse then himselfe can be For good desart that is vnkindly vsed For seruice loue and faith that â—…indeth hate Who in his Mistresse eyes is most refused Whose comforts falle whose 〈◊〉 come too late If that man liue that in his 〈◊〉 findes this Know hee my 〈◊〉 for my haâ—… hardâ—… is If daâ—…ming vowes be but as dreames regarded And constant thoughts as shewes of custome taken If any man for loue be thus rewarded And hath his hopes for these vnrights forsaken Let him see me whose like hath neuer beene Kilde by these wrongs and yet by death vnseene Then by this riuall of my such dispise With much desire shall seeke my name to know Tell him my lines Strange things may well suffice For him to beare for me to seeke them so And t'was inough that I did finde such euils And t'were too much that Angels should be diueâ—…s His complaint against Loue and Fortune IF heauen and earth were both not fullie bent To plague a wretch with an infernall paine To robbe the heart of all his high content And leaue a wound that should not heale againe If cruell Fortune did not seeke to kill The carefull spirit of my kinde affect And care did not so crucifie me still That Loue had left no hope of his effect If she whom most my heart hath euer loued Were not vnkinde in care of my distresse And she by whom my griefe might be remoued Did not holde backe the meane of my redresse If all these thoughts and many thousands mo Too long to tell too deadly to endure Did not consume my heart in sorrow so That care hath left no hope of any cure Then might I yet amid mâ—… greatest griefe Perswade my pacience with some heauenly power That when I most despaire of my reliefe My hopelesse heart might find some happie hower But since that Fortune so doth frowne vpon me That care hath thus of comfort all berest me Thinke it not strange to see me wo begone me Where no good hope of no good hap is left me And since I see all kindnesse so vnkinde And friendship growne to such contrarie thought â—… And such a thought the torment of the minde That care and sorrow hath consumed to nought I will resolue though paâ—…ience be perforce To sit me downe and thus in secret â—…rie Dead is my heart oâ—… earth receiue my corse Heauen be my life for in the world I die In the praise of his Penelope WHen authors write god knowes what thing is true Old Homer wrote of fine Vlysses wit And Ouid wrote of Venus heauenly hue And Ariosto of Orlandos fit One wrote his pleasure of Caliope I am to write of sweete Penelope And where each one did shewe a secret vaine And whether that Vlysses were or not And though that Ouid did but onely faiâ—…e And Ariosto set downe many a blot And some wrote loudly of Caliope I write but truth of sweete Penelope And if I had Vlysses skilfull sconce With Homers pen and Ouids heauenly voice I would set downe a wonder for the nouce To set them all a newe to worke againe And he that wrote of his Caliope Should hush to heare of this Penelope As true as she that was Vlysses wife As â—…aire as she whom some a Goodesse faine A Saint of shape and of more vertuous life Then she for whom Orlandos knight was slaine In euerie thing aboue Caliope There is none such as sweete Penelope And for this time go looke the world that will For constant faire for vertue and good grace For euery part in whom no part is ill For perfect shape and for a heauenly face Angellica Venus Caliope All are but blows vnto Penelope A Poem LOoke not too long vpoÌ„ those looks y â— blinds the ouerlooker sore if you speak speak not to much lest speaking once y â— speak no more think not but what it is to think to reach beyoÌ„d the reach of thought And if you do do what you can when you haue don you can do nought But if you see against your will looke but away and be not slaine And if a worde go vnawares with care it may be calde againe And for a thought it is not hurt except it grow vnto a thing But to vndo that hath bene done is onely conquest of a king But since in thee O silly wretch both sight speach thought and deed By reason of a wrong conceit do but thine owne confusion breed Shut vp thy eies seale vp thy tongue lock vp thy thought lay downe thy head And let thy mistres see by this how loue hath strock her seruant dead And that but in her heauenly eye her worde her thought and onely will Doth rest the dead to kill the quite or else to cure thee of this ill A Poem POwre downe poore eies the teares of true distresse Heare but oh heauens the horror of my crie Iudge of the care that can haue no redrresse Let me not liue to see my louer diâ—… In sorrowes rules like sorrow neuer read Phillip sweet-knight sweete Phillip Sidney dead Paine more then art or Nature can expresse Hell to the world to loose a heauenly friend Ioy is become but sorrow and distresse Life with my Loue let death and dolor end In bitter teares hath hart of honor blead Past hope of helpe to see perfection dead A Poem PEace all the world your weeping is but vaine Heauen hath the hâ—…pe of honor all away Ioy but in heauen to meet that hope againe Lincke with the life that neuer can decay In this alone all hope of comfort lies Perfection onely liues in Paradice A Poem PErfection â—…eereles Uertue without pride Honor and learning linckt with highest Loue Ioy of the thought in true discretion tride Loue of the life that highest honors proue In Angels armes with heauenly hands embraced Paradice pleased and all the world disgraced Seeke all the world oh seeke and neuer finde In earthly mould the mount of such a minde Diuinest gifts that God on man bestoweth No glory such as of such glory groweth End of the ioyes that hath all griefe begun Yet let me weepe when all the world is done Vpon a scoffing laughter giuen by a Gentlewoman LAugh not too much perhaps you are deceyued All are not fooles that haue but simple faces Mists are abroad things may be misconceyued Frumps and disdaines are fauours in disgraces Now if you do not know what meane these speeches Fooles haue long cotes and Monkies haue no breeches Tâ—…hee againe why what a grace is this Laugh a man out before he can get in Fortune so crosse and fauour so amis Doomsday at hand before the world begin Marie sir then but if the weather holde Bewtie may laugh and Loue may be a colde Yet leaue betimes your laughing
he knew where came the Queene The Shepheard durst not stay And where that he durst not be seene The sheepe must needes away To aske her if she saw his flocke Might happen pacience moue And haue an answere with a mocke That such demaunders proue Yet for because he saw her come Alone out of the wood He thought he would not stand as dumbe when speach might do him goo And therefore falling on his knees To aske but for his sheepe He did awake and so did leese The honour of his sleepe A pleasant sweet song LAid in my restlesse bed In dreame of my desire I sawe within my troubled head A heape of thoughts appeare And each of them so strange In sight before mine eyes That now I sigh and then I smile As cause thereby doth rise I see how that the little boy In thought how oft that he Doth wish of God to scape the rod a tall yong man to be I saw the yong man trauelling From sport to paines opprest How he would be a rich olde man To liue and lie at rest The olde man too who seeth His age to drawe on sore Would be a little boy againe To liue so long the more Where at I sigh and smile How Nature craues her fee From boy to man from man to boy Would chop and change degree A Sonet of Time and Pleasure TIme is but short and short the course of time Pleasures do passe but as a puffe of winde Care hath account to make for euerie crime And peace abides but with the setled minde Of little paine doth pacience great proceede And after sicknesse health is daintie sweet A friend is best approued at a neede And sweet the thought where care kindnes meet Then thinke what comfort doth of kindnes breed To know thy sicknesse sorrow to thy friend And let thy faith vpon this fauour feed That loue shall liue when death shall haue an end And he that liues assured of thy loue Prayes for thy life thy health and highest hap And hopes to see the height of thy behoue Lulde in the sweet of Loues desired lap Till when take paines to make thy pillow soft And take a nap for Natures better rest He liues below that yet doth lookâ—… aloft And of a friend do not 〈◊〉 the least Of a Louer in dispaire THough froward fate hath forst my griefe And blacke dispaire this deadly paine Yet time I trust will bring reliese When loyall faith shall haue her gaine Till then the stormes of banisht state And penance in this Hermits Cell Shall trie her cause of wrong full hate Whose malice lo keepes me in hell A Sonet of faire womens ficklenesse in loue IF women would be faire and yet not fond Or that their loue were firme not fickle still I would not wonder that they make meÌ„ bond By seruice long to purchase their good will But when I see how firme these creaturs are I laugh that men forget themselues so farre To marke their choise they make and how they chaunge How oft from Venus they do cleaue to Pan Unsetled still like haggards vile they raunge These gentle birds that flie from man to man Who would not scorn shake them froÌ„ his fist And let theÌ„ go faire fooles which way they list If for disport we faine and flatter both To passe the time when nothing can displease And traine them still vnto our subtill oth Till wearie of their wits our selues we ease 〈◊〉 then we say when we their fancies trie To play with fooles oh what a dolt was I. Of the foure Elements Tâ—…e Aire with sweet my sences do delight The Earth with flowers doth glad my heauie â—…ie The Fire with warmth reuiues my dying spirit The Water cooles that is too hote and drie The Aire the Earth the Water and the fire All doe me good what can I more desire Oh no the Aire infected sore I finde The Earth her flowers do wither and decay The Fire so whote it doth inflame the minde And Water washeth white and all away The Aire the Earth Fire Water all annoy me How can it be but they must needes destroy me Sweete Aire do yet a while thy sweetnesse holde Earth let thy flowers not fall away in prime Fire do not burne my heart is not a colde Water drie vp vntill another time Or Aire or Earth Fire Water heare my prayer Or slaâ—…e me once Fire Water Earth or Aire Hearke in the Aire what deadly thunder threateth See on the Earth how euerie flower falleth Oh with the Fire how euery sinewe sweateth Oh howe the Water my pâ—…nting heart appalleth The Aire the Earth Fire Water all do grieue me Heauens shew your power yet some way to relieue me This is not Aire that euerie creature feedeth Nor this the Earth where euerie flower groweth Nor this the Fire that cole and bauen breedeth Nor this the Water that both ebth and floweth These Elements are in a worde enclosed Where happie heart hath heauenly rest reposed Brittons farewell to Hope MY Hope farewell leaue off thy lingring stay Nowe yeeld thy selfe as prisoner vnto thrall Pricke on thy wings make now no more delay Be set thou art with Enuies furies all Oh Follie flie fond Fancie leaue thy roome Thou art condemde Dispaire hath giuen thy doome Thy threed whereon thy hope did hang so long Dame Enuies rust hath fretted quite in twaine And spitefull spite hath gnawne thee to the bone That sue thou maist but all is spent in vaine She is reuert and giues me still the nay And keepes me like the Spaniell all the day When caught I was I was content to yeeld My loue was lim'd and linked to her will And prisoner I was brought out of the field Of libertie to serue in thraldome still There lost I ioyes my toiles did then beginne When as I sought a froward heart to winne I sought I sued I was at becke and bay I crept I kneelde a heauen it was to please I thought my selfe the happiest man that day If one faire worde I caught my heart to ease But when that deeds of wordes should then ensue All then was turn'd like vnto Cresseds crew Thus do I sue and serue but all in vaine With lingring on my loathsome life in wo Thus do I seeke to winne but losse I gaine And for a friend obtaine a spitefull fo Then farewell hope the gaine of my desart Dispaire doth grow within my pensiue hart N. B. Gent. FINIS
feed this heart that onely liues vpon them Ah of these hands what humors do arise To blind these eies that liue by looking on them But heart must faint that must be going froÌ„ you And eies must weepe that in you lose their seeing Heauens be your place where Angels better knowe you And earth is too base for such a Goddesse beeing Yet where you come among those hiest powers Craue pardon then for all these great offences That when you dwelt among those harts of ours Your only eies did blind our wits and senses New if you see my will aboue my wit Think of the good that all your graces yeeld you A mazed Muse must haue a madding fit Who is but mad that euer hath beheld you A Sonet THose eies that hold the hand of euery heare That hand that holds the heart of euery eye That wit that goes beyond all Natures art The sence too deepe for Wisedome to discrie That eye that hand that wit that heauenly sence Doth shew my onely mistresse excellence Oh eyes that pearce into the purest heart Oh hands that hold the highest thoughts in thrall Oh wit that weyes the depth of all desart Oh sence that shewe the secret sweete of all The heaueÌ„ of heaueÌ„s with heauenly powers preserue thee Loue but thy selfe and giue me leaue to serue thee To serue to liue to looke vpon those eyes To looke to liue to kisse that heauenly hand To sound that wit that doth amaze the minde To know that sence no sence can vnderstand To vnderstand that all the world may know Such wit such sence eyes hands there are no moe A pastorall of Phillis and Coridon ON a hill there growes a flower Faire befall the daintie sweete By that flower there is a bower Where the heauenly Muses meete In that Bower there is a Chaire Fringed all about with golde Where doth sit the fairest faire That did euer eye beholde It is Phyllis faire and bright She that is the shepheards ioy She that Venus did dispight And did blind her little boy This is she the wise the rich And the world desires to see This is Ipsa quae the which There is none but onely shee Who would not this fact admire Who would not this Saint adore Who would not this sight desire Though he thought to see no more Oh faire eyes yet let me see One good looke and I am gonâ—… Looke on me for I am hee Thy poore sillie Corridon Thou that art the shepheards Queene Looke vpon thy sillie Swaine By tâ—…y comfort haue beene seene Dead men brought to life againe The complaint of a forsaken Louer LEt me go seeke some solitarie place In craggie rocks where coÌ„fort is vnknowne Where I may sit and waile my heauy case And make the heaueÌ„s acquainted with my moâ—…e Where onely Eccho with her hollow voice May sound the sorrow of my hidden sence And cruell chance the crosse of sweetest choise Doth breed the paine of this experience In mourning thoughts let me my mind attire And clad my care in weedes of deadly wo And make Disgrace the graue of my desire Which tooke his death wherby his life did grow And ere I die engraue vpon my â—…ombe Take heed of Loue for this is louers doome A prettie Fancie VVHo takes a friend and trusâ—…s him not Who hopes of good and hath it not Who hath a Item and keepes it not Who keepes a Ioy and loues it not The first wants wit the second will Carelesse the third the fourth dooth ill An Epitaph on the death of a noble Gentleman SOrrow come sit thee downe and sigh and sob thy fill And let these bleeding bitter teares be witnesse of thine ill See see how Vertue sits what passions she doth proue To thinke vpon the losse of him that was her dearest loue Come Pallas carefull Queene let all thy Muses waite About the graue where buried is the grace of your conceite Poets lay downe your pennes or if you needes will write Confesse the onely day of loue hath lost her dawning light And you that know the Court and what beseemes the place With griefe engraue vpoÌ„ his tombe he gaue al Courts a grace And you that keepe the fields and knowe what valure is Say all too soone was seene in this vntimely death of his Oh that he liud in earth that could but halfe conceiue The honour that his rarest heart was worthie to receiue Whose wisdome farre aboue the rule of Natures reach Whose workes are extant to the worlde that all the world may teach Whose wit the wonder-stone that did true wisdome tutch And such a sounder of conceipt as few or neuer sutch Whose vertues did exceede in Natures highest vaine Whose life a lanthorne of the loue that surely liues againe Whose friendship faith so fast as nothing could remoue him Whose honourable courtesie made all the world to loue him What language but he spake what rule but he had read What thought so high what sense so deep but he had in his head A Phoenix of the world whom fame doth thus commend Vertue his life Valor his loue and Honor was his end Upon whose tombe be writ that may with teares be red Here lies the flower of chiualrie that euer England bred Oh heauens vpon the earth was neuer such a day That all conceits of all contents should all consume away Me thinkes I see a Queene omâ—…e couerâ—… with a vasse The Court all stricken in a dumpe tâ—…e 〈◊〉 weene 〈◊〉 The knights in carefull sighs bewaile their secret losse And he that best conceales his griefe bâ—…wrayes â—…e hath a crosse Come scholers bring your bookes let reason haue his right Do reuerence vnto the corse in honour of the knight Come souldiers see the knight that left his life so neere ye Giue him a volley of your harts that all the world may heare ye And ye that liue at home and passe your time in peace To helpe ye sing his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 let sorrow neuer cease Oh could I mouâ—… 〈◊〉 that all the world may see The griefe of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 â—… losse as greater cannot bee Our Court hath 〈◊〉 a 〈◊〉 our Countrey such a knight As with the torment of the thought hath turned day to nighâ—… A man so rare a man did neuer England breed So excellent in euery thing that all men did exceed So full of all effects that wit and since may scan As in his heart did want no part to make a perfâ—…ct man Perfection faâ—…e aboue the rule of humaine sence Whose heart was euely set on heauen and had his honor thence Whose marke of hiest aime was honour of the minde Who both at once did worldly fame and heauenly fancur finde Whom Uertue so did loue and learning so adore As commendation of a man was neuer man had more Whom wise men did admire whom good men did affect Whom honest men did loue and serue and all men did respect Whose care his Countries loue whose loue his Countries