in my sinnes I die For still the flesh is subiect to offende while yet the spirit groneth for thy grace But thou hast power the weakest to defende That vnto thee reueale their heauy case Then from that hande and mighty arme of thine Strengthen this weake wounded soule of mine Thou that hast saide prowde Esaw was thy hate And humble Iacob was thy chosen loue That dost the power of worldly pride abate And workst the heauen of humble hartes behoue Make Esawes life with lacobs loue agree Or kill the flesh the soule maie liue with thee And from despaire that poisned sting of death Deliuer lorde the sorrowes of desire And at the latest houre and gaspe of breath Let humble hart the hope of heauen aspire where faithfull soules maie in thy fauour see That onely loue doth onely liue in thee What booteth me the world for to possesse And want the iewell of my heauenly ioie what earths delight but is to me distresse when natures health doth proue the soules anoye No my sweete loue let this poore soule of mine Neuer haue life but in that loue of thine One precious droppe of thy pure oile of grace Power downe sweete loue into my wounded hart And to my faith so turne thy louing face That from thy fauour I maie neuer part Looke on thy Mary with her bitter teares That washt thy feete and wiptethe with her heares The greater depts forgiuen the greater loue Thy worde hath saide and it saies euer true when patience life in pitties loue doth proue In greatest mercy greatest glory grue where one mans sinne procured all mens paine And one mans grace gaue all men life againe Oh high creator of all creatures liuing who nothing wantst that all thinges dost possesse what hath the world that may be worth the giuing Vnto the honor of thy holines But onely thankes that thy true spirit moueth In that true hart that thy true mercy loueth But still I see my loue is sore displeasde And tels me of my great vngratefulnes when so my soule with sorrow is diseasde As in my hart findes nought but hatefulnes And with the teares of true repentance crieth Lorde saue the life that in thy mercy lieth For thou art loue the euerliuing God And onely God and onely of the liuing who though thou smitst thy children with thy rod Sweete is the care of thy corrections giuing In which thy sweete and kindest care correct me But in thy mercy neuer doe reiect me Let neuer death against thy life preuaile Nor euer hate once looke against thy loue Nor faithfull hope thy heaunly fauour faile But harts contrition happy comfort proue And let the soule euen at the dore of death Liue by the aiâ—…r but of thy heauenly breath Mine eâ—…es are dimme my flesh bare skin and bone My sinewes shroncke and all my limmes are num Mine eares are deafe but to the sound of mone My speech is but to sorrow stroken dum My bloode dried vp my hart with sorrow soken Oh helpe the soule before the heart be broken Behold the sorrowes that my soule doeth make And see what torments teare my heart a sunder where euery teare doth other ouertake where fearefull care puts faithfull comforts vnder Oh my sweete life though I be deadly wounded Let not my faith be vtterly confounded And Since oh king that thou art onely able To helpe the helples onely but in thee And by one crumme from thy true mercies table The wofull soule may well relieued be Of that sweete foode oh let my faith so tast That by thy loue my life may euer last What life is this that wretches here we leade Caring and carking for our fleshly liues Neuer wel fild when we are too much fedde where strange conceits for true contentment striues Tearing our harts and tiring out our mindes For that in fine which but repentance findes Where kindnes proues a kinde of leude conceite Leading the heart to lothsomnes of loue while wisest wits on wanton humours waite And wilfull fancies doe but follies proue where power pride so plage the world with woes That peace and vertue all to ruine goes Where gold is helde a God siluer a Saint And durt and drosse are dearest in regarde where frendship failes and faith beginnes to faint And curses rule while blessed thoughts are barde And all and some doe in conclusion proue wo to the world that liues not by thy loue Where valure proues but foolish hardines And greatest wit is wicked wilines And honour gotten by vnworthines Fils all the world with all vnhappines while vertue sighes at sinners wickednes And Angels mourne for our vngodlines Where parents grieue at childerns stubbornes And children smile at parents childishnes where masters sigh at seruants idlenes And seruants laugh at masters wantonnes while faithfull soules in sorrowes wretchednes Looke but in heauen to haue their blessednes Where subtle heads are simple harts illusion while Tyraunt thoughts vniustly make intrusion And outward shewes are inward thoughts allusion while strange delightes are strong desires delusion And heedles care doeth make vp this conclusion That lacke of grace is all the worlds confusion Where brightest truth by treason often blamed is VVhile faithles hart with falshood all enflamed is And carefull age with sorrow all ashamed is That careles youth so long at large vntamed is That where good nature all alas misnamed is The faith of honour vtterlie defamedis VVhere sore deâ—…aies the care of true Gentility And strong disquiet standeth for tranquility And vertue is of too much imbecility where faith is found but ful of al fragility when honors loue that liues by hopes humility Must walke among the beggars for ability Oh wicked fruit of woful hearts affection when once the soule is toucht with sins infection And wil not learne by care of thy correction To leade a life but by thy loues direction where in the fire of thy bright sunnes reflexion They maie behold the height of their perfection But what is Earth and what but earth are we A goodly brag begunne and endes in dust where old young all the world may see From whence we came and whetherto we must Short time we liue no sooner dead then rotten And scarce welburied but wee are forgotten Oh Lord thou knowest this world is all but wo where sinne doth seeke to get the vpper hand The flesh would faine the spirit ouerthrow But that her stay doth in thy mercy stand But since the soule may conquer sinne by thee Lord let thy mercy onely sight for me Let me but looke vpon thy holie loue And sucke my honie from that heauenlie hiue wherein my soule such sweetnes maie approue That with that foode shee maie for euer liue And feeding so vpon thy sacred will when shee is fedde yet maie shee hunger still Oh bring me home that long haue beene abroade And leade me streight that long haue gone astraie And raise me vp that haue beene ouertroade And
his passage well When not to stand on circumstance too long He meetes anon with this same monster thing who by illusion of the Sirens song would seeke a worlde in bondage how to bring Turning himselfe into a thousand shapes To feare fond children and to cosen Apes And first he looks like to a fiery light which would consume what so did crosse his waie But soone was donne the force of his despight where vertue came he had no power to staie And then he would become a speaking birde But God once namde he durst not speake a worde And by and by he would become a Beare To feare young children with a foolish noise But when a man a beast can neuer feare He found it prou'de olde children were no boies when by and by he woulde become an Ape Oh beastly thing too neare a humaine shape But when that vertue founde the vile effect Of Apish humors with the Monckish mindes Shee wholy did the vermins iestes reiect And forst him seeke for shapes of other kindes when all his sleightes could doe him little boote For vertue knew the deuil by his foote No though into an Angell faire of light He coulde transforme him selfe for to deceiue Yet coulde he not his foote keepe out of sight But vertue coulde his filthy clawe perceiue So by his foote shee plainely did descrie him Bidding auaunte foule fiende shee did defie him When as the pilgrime lifting vp his eies To heauenly powers from hell for to defende him Sweete Christ once namde awaie the Serpent flies And for awhile vnable to offende him Til once againe the heauens had giuen him leaue To doe his worst sweete vertue to deceiue When in the shape whereof before I spake with his seuen heads the wicked Serpent standes with such a sounde as made the earth to shake As halfe the worlde were subiect to his handes when first his head of pride began to speake And to this pilgrime did this poison breake Thou little wretch quod he of lesser worth In humaine shape I know not what to name whom honors spirit neuer coulde bring forth To seeke the fortune of imperial fame How didst thou fal into this forlorne path wherein the worlde so little pleasure hath Where see the ground of euery secret griefe which mortifies the body with the minde Subiect to euery crosse and for reliefe Pitty the whole that thou must hope to finde Patience a paine set downe life but a death where care and sorrow draw a sickely breath VVhere eies must be embased to the ground Their pleasing humors barred to beholde And bended knees to cappe and courtzy bounde while bared head must bide the bitter colde The minde must stoupe the hande must loose his strength The hart must droupe and life must yeelde at length Is this the reach of Reasons noble wit To see a world and seeke for nothing in it In such a chaire doth charie humor sit To know a worke of worth and not beginne it who could of power conceiue the kingly pleasure would no conceit with such a comfort measure Humility a iolly creeping thought Patience a prety purgatory Sorrow a fit for the phisitian wrought And death a gentill ende of misery Fasting and praier al the spirits pleasure Notes for a King to looke vpon at leasure No stoupe no thought seeke only to subdue Set no conceit in honor with a crowne In begger minde true conquest neuer grew The village is a cotage to the towne The Monarchy doth shew the noble minde He hath no life that cummes of lower kinde VVhat slaue wil serue that easely may commaunde what sence wil stoupe that may be set alofte who wil desire that needes not to demaunde who loues the boordes may haue his bedde made softe Or who regardes the rascall beggers teares That may haue Musicke to contente his eares What poore conceit wil begge for crūmes of bread May haue his table furnisht all with cates Or breake his hart with hammers of his head May passe his humors with his pleasing mates Faire wise rich learned valiant young and olde Power is the hande doth at commandement holde And so he stopt but swelling with such pride As if his braine woulde haue with poison burst To whom the pilgrime presently replied Avaunt foule fiende and Monster most accurst Thou hate of heauen and greatest hagge of hell what wicked tale hast thou presumde to tell Wretched blasphemous spirit of presumption Ougly in shape and horrible in sence Thou cursed substance of the souls consumption The heauens displeasure and the worlds offence That knowst no worth art not worth the knowing Rot in thy roote ere thou haue further growing Thou wicked witch fonde fortunes first deuiser To bring a desperate spirit to defame And by illusion first the soules surpriser That heares thy wordes and wil beleeue the same How durst thou once presume so neere this path where hatefull humor neuer passage hath Thou grounde of griefe heere is the grounde of grace Thou foule infection heere is fairest health Thou crosse of crosses heere is comfortes place Thou pitties want and heere is pitties wealth Thou dire impatience dole and deadly strife Curst be the death that stoppes the waie of life Whose blinded eies are barde all blessed light whose crooked knees are crampt for crafty creeping whose triple crowne in vertues humble sight will breake thy necke and rest in better keeping whose hart subdued by hande of heauenly strength Must liue in paine of neuer ending length Calst thou the rage of wil the rules of wit Is all the world ought els but vanitie who in the chaire of chaunging choise doth sit Knowes nothing of diuine humanity Nor in conceit can comfort truly measure That knows not pride the plage of high displeasure Humility high Angels happy thought while patience is the deuils purgatory Sorrow a fit for faithes phisitians wroughte while high heauens mercy endes worldes misery Fasting and praier happines procuring while true repentance is but hope enduring Then stoupe foule pride whom heauens did full subdue Know that thy crowne is cumming tumbling downe Vertue doth see how by Illusion grew The worldes disgrace to grace thee with a crowne Monarch of mischiefe such is all thy minde Nor hath he life that cummes of such a kinde His seruice freedome that made thee a slaue His seate alofte that makes thee lie full lowe His wante a welth that sees thee nothing haue His boorde a bed that makes thee watch for woe His almes sweete that saues the beggers teares while thou hast naught but cries to fill thine eares A poore conceite that starues for lacke of crums And yet will tell the worlde of delicates who ofte for hunger feedst vpon thy thumbes when death and sorrowe are thy hellish mates Faire wise riche learned valiant olde and young Take heede of pride and of his poisned tongue And with that worde I knowe not how it fell But downe the crowne came tumbling on the grounde when as
of his heade from side to side To his deafe eares the pilgrime thus replied Thou cursed serpent grounde of al disgrace By Idlenes begetting Ignorance which dost the sprigges of fairest rootes deface with lothsome course of lifes discountenaunce And makst a pleasure of the spirits paine Die in thy dreame and neuer wake againe Sleepe is the soules discase the mindes despight The curse of Nature and the crosse of rest The thoughtes disquiet and the darkesome night wherein the spirit likes the body lest A losse of time and reasons malladie where death is found but sorrowes remedy The watching virgins kindely were receiued when such as slept did loose their happy houre In dreames the sences often are deceiued when waking wits finde shadowes haue no power Then sleepe thy last where life hath neuer place God graunt my soule to watch praie for grace When thus the head of hateful slouthfulnes was soncke into the filthy sincke of sinne The harmeful head of al vnhappines Did lechery this loathsome tale beginne Alas poore pilgrime childe of chast desire Hast thou bin burnt thou canst not bide the fier A gentle iest a man to be a maide what minsing humor doth the sences measure That Nature can of beauty be afraide And loose her prime before she know her pleasure Fleshe hath no fauour in diuinity Nor Nature pleasure in virginity The childe that knowes not how to make his choice Must be a babe so babishe let him bee But he that knowes how better to reioice will seeke a worlde where sweeter thoughtes agree No thinke of loue to be that pleasing thought That for his will sets all the worlde at nought What figure findes not loue out of a face what humors notes he not in euery heare In beauties eies what stars doth he not place what roses in her cheekes doth she not beare what hony in her lippes and sweeter worth In her faire ground but he can gather forth It whets the wit and doth embolden will And maketh Arte to worke beyond her selfe It maketh nature study reasons skill And in her humors play the pretty elfe It bringeth fancy to a deinty feast And makes a man that woulde be els a beast What deinty glaunces passe from eies to eies when sweete conceites are secretly conceiued what comfortes can the kissing hearts deuise where kinde effectes of fauour are receiued Age can reporte and youth doth daily prooue There is no comforte to the course of loue And with that worde did ende his wicked charme Vnto which sounde the pilgrime gan reply Thou hatefull head and grounde of euery harme Venum compounded all of villany A foule infection of the fairest creature Die in the filth of thy corrupted nature Thou sleepy slouth that figurste out the swine with groueling humors tumbling on the grounde That canst not thinke vpon a thought diuine But liu'st in dreames where all deceits are founde How durst thou speake in that foule thoughts defence which breedeth nothing but the soules offence Vertue and vice were neuer friendes in deede Diana knowes that Venus is no maide But faith that doth on heauenly blessing feede Of foolish beauty maie be well afraide when Natures pleasure in virginity Shewes flesh hath fauoure in diuinity Equality is but a childish humor He is alone that keepes the lofty seate what voice is hard where al are in a rumor Or who is seru'd where euery one is great why patience is the paterne of a villaine That neuer came neare to a Kings pauilion And with that word she fed vpon her Snakes As if her heart did like none other foode where to the pilgrime soone this answere makes Vngratious grifte and voide of heauenly good Feede on thy Snakes vntill the poison fill thee And thine owne cancker with corruption kill thee Equality is childrens blessednes where many brethren are but one in loue The voice hard sweete whose sounde is holinesse And God wel seru'd where graces glory proue And he that patience paternes for a villaine shal neuer know the King of heauens pauilion Thou neuer readst the booke of Christ his Crosse Nor canst endure so sweete an A B C But thou art bounde to liue with labours losse where al the woes of al the worlde maie be God giue my spirit grace to seeke no more Then goe the waie his Sainctes haue gone before When as it seemde the venum wrought so sore within the hart as poisned so the heade As shrinking downe it sight and spake no more But with the rest the filthy body fedde when started vp the head of Murthring wrath As newly cumme from out summe bloody bath VVho grating of his teeth with knitting brow Shaking his fist as if he mente to fight Thou patch quod he where art thou plodding now hath patience thinkst thou such a princely might That shee can thee against my force defende And bring thee safely to thy Iourneies ende My life is most to lay me downe in blood I can endure no daunting of mine eie I onely loue to feede on bloody foode whom I once cease on they are sure to die How durst thou then approch so neere my sight whose fury standes withal the worlde to fight Poore patient hartes are tost from post to post when bloody swordes doe walke the worlde with wonder Poore patience many a patrimony lost while will resolu'de put wit and reason vnder Patience is oft from princely seate puld downe while bloody mindes do brauely beare the crowne Pitty is knowen sometime to marre a citty And Anger oftentimes is cause of quiet Sometime as good be wilful as be witty when bloody dishes make a dainty diet what armes of honor to a bloody field where Anger 's hande makes patient harts to yeelde VVhen as it seemde halfe stuffed vp with blood Stopping his tale the pilgrime thus replied Choke vp thy throat with that foule butchers food That neuer couldst the sounde of mercy bide But dost consume the hart of many a creature Die in the fury of thy filthy nature Fret fume and chafe I feare not of thy force I plod with patience where thou canst not cumme My patience hath such power in her remorse As furies sences quickely wil benumme And by her prowesse stoutly so defende me That thou nor thine nor ought els offende me Then lie and bath and tumble in thy bloode And stare stampe til thou hast donne thy worst Thy foule adherents I haue all withstoode And thou art but a spirit all accurst who though thou makst a number know thy might Where patience cums thou hast no power to fight Poore patient harts are tost from paine to peace When bloody swords do breede but hellish woes And patience patrimony is no leace But in a grounde where grace wisedome growes And patience sits with an Immortal crowne where tir aunt heads to hel are beaten downe Pitty must be the princesse of a citty And Anger breedeth nothing but disquiet wilful is good so that the wil be
witty where bloode is bard the dish of mercies diet what Armes of honor to that heauenly fielde where patience force makes angers fury yeelde At which last worde the â—…retting furious head Fel with the rest into that sincke of sinne And with the body fel downe stroke as dead when patience did this pilgrimes ioy beginne with praysing heauens vsing humble praier To comforte hope and keepe of al dispaire When leauing so the ougly Monster slaine Onwardes she leades him on his happy way where ioiful pleasure after feare of paine Had set his sences at so sweete a staie That now he thought no Monster could offende him He had such proofe that patience woulde defende him But when the heauens that pitty haue of nature And know that sences woulde be gladde of rest Although the spirite waking keepe the creature Vnto such worke as like the wisedome best Into their garde did will the Angels take him Vntill they wilde the spirite shoulde awake him BVT when the spirite little time coulde spare Vnto the harte to giue the sences rest And reason founde that vertues happy fare was in the hande where with the soule is blest He wilde the sences from their sleepe arise And follow patience to their paradise When hauing past the path along the wood They came vnto a shore neare to a sea where lofty waues did threaten little good when rockes with patience make a drowning plea where stormes and tempests flawes and rocks and sands The perils shew wherein the sea man standes With patience heere this pilgrime must Imbarke within a shippe the buonauenture named when in the Mappe he founde out many a marke whereby conceite his course most happly framed And to be shorte with a resolued minde They hoist vp sailes God sende a merry winde When as they founde the tide would tary none And little wit it was to loose the winde what grounde was best to cast their ancker on And how they might their surest passage finde To scape the rockes and to auoide the sandes And keepe their carriage out of pirots handes And so along the surging seas they slide Till passing by capa di buon speranza Not farre from thence they did intende to ride Till some sweete winde that vertue ben auanza woulde bid them hoice their sailes and to be gone Towardes the heauen they were to hope vpon Where after sounding casting ancker out And striking saile and winding vp the cable Setting in order all thinges rounde aboute As well as such young Mariners were able with such good thoughtes as might the time beguile They fell to walke vpon the boordes awhile And riding but a while anone they spied A fisher man all in his boate alone with euery billow tost from side to side As made them leare his last farewell anone when moued with the pitty of good nature They calde abooâ—…de this selly wretched creature But for I did but little time bestow Amidde the fielde to seeke for honors fame And fortune sought my 〈◊〉 ouerthrow Before my haâ—… had entrance to the same I lefte that life and to the seas I gat where how I liu d I neede not tell you that I thinke your selues can teâ—… as wel as I If not alas it is no ease to learne So many labours in the life doe lie As are not in a daie for to disâ—…erne A daie a month nor many a yeare God wot As I could tel if I haue not forgotte First I did learne to set my compasse right And by my compasse how my course to run To marke each point as wel by day as night By night to marke the stars by day the funne Then take the Mappe to looke for rockes sandes Of which ful ofte the shippe in daunger standes Then narrowly to looke to euery leake And when the winde did serue to hoise my sailes To sounde the depth where se as beginne to breake And strike my saile when once my sea roome failes To Arme my fightes and plant mine ordnaunce so I might not stande in feaâ—…e to meete my foe Then did I learne to stande and guide the sterne And now and then to helpe to hoise vp ancker And otherwhiles the cunning to discernce To dresse hir sides to keepe hir from the cancker My termes of arte and patient to be painefull And how to hope to make my voiage gainful To lie ful colde and harde and fare full thinne To frame my carkas to vnkindest natures To beare of stomes and in a calme beginne To learne to kill the little creeping creatures To eate a fusty cake and teinted fish And one fresh morfell make a deinty dish To make no conscience so there came in gaine when siluer crosses keepe of many a curse A pitteous case to see the Merchant slaine For his owne goods to fil the pirots purse To sweare and stare vntil we come on shore Then rifty tufty each one to his skore The Master he sometime would fall asleepe The Masters mate to much â—…pon the can The boson he his cabin tooke to keepe And in the cookerome there the rie begare when all and some in halte a droncâ—…en swowne would leaue the shippe to sincke themselues to drowne But when I saw the kinde of life was such The griefe to great for any true good minds The labour sore the sorrow was to much To seeke for that which but repentance finds I left the shippe with manie a sorrie note And tooke me sweetely to my little boate And heere my trade is poore yet ful of peace And peace is riches though my trade be poore The sea is large whose landlorde makes no lease I toile for fishes and I seeke no more when stormes arise vnto the heauen I high me And in the sunne-shine set me downe and drie me But for I see the barke wherein you ride Of Buonaventure hath the blessed name And patience is a pure a perfect guide Vnto the fauour of eternal fame I hope the course is good that you intende Heauens bring you happly to your Iournies end This poore mans tale when thus the pilgrime harde He did along his company entreate Promising him a pilgrimes poore rewarde Besides his hope his comfort woulde be great If heauens did fauoure vertues enterprise Humbly to passe the path to paradise But when the fisher harde that fairest worde Of paradise once sounding in his eare He gaue consent and hoist his boat a boarde And casting of al sorrow care and feare They hoist vp sailes windes seru'de what would you more Onwardes they goe God sende them well a shore VVhen leauing Scilla to those selly guides That careles are to keepe their course aright By cuâ—…st Charibdis on he smoothly slides Till by good happe they had a land in sight To which they made with might maine as fast As windes woulde serue and got to shore at last Yet let me tel you ere they came a shore As through the OceaÌ„ they did make their way Tempests arose
the head with anger seemde to swell Like an Aposthume of a poisoned wounde which breaking inwarde of the sodaine shroncke Into the body oh most beastly troncke The heade of pride thus suddainely consumde Or shroncke into this filthy sincke of sinne The second head foule Auarice presumde with wicked wordes the miser mindes to winne Ah begger worme and needy wretch quod he what dost thou thinke that will become of thee Hath patience bred in thee this poore conceite That colde and hunger be thy harts content Doest thou not see how manie thousandes waite In honors fielde vpon the golden tente Or knowest thou not power wisedome wit and pleasure All haue their Essence in the golden treasure What face so faire that is not grac't in golde what wit of worth but hath in golde his wonder what learning but with golden lines doth holde what state so high but gold will bring him vnder what thought so sweete but gold doth better season And what rule best but in the golden reason Be lorde of landes and cram thy chest with coine Feare nought but neede mony will make a friende Let conscience learne the cunning to purloine wit without welth hath but a wofull ende The golden scepter and the golden crowne Doth make the subiect on his knees come downe The grounde is fat that yeeldes the golden fruite The study high that hits the golden state The labour sweete that gets the golden suite The reckning right that makes the goldeÌ„ rate The hap is sure that golden hope doth holde And rich is gaine that serues the god of golde And with that worde the wicked thing did cease when presently the pilgrime thus replied Oh cursed cancker crosse of conscience peace whose hatefull harte doth all ill humors hide Thou kindling cole of an Internall fire Die in the ashes of thy dead desire Impatient spirite liuing all by spoile Drunke like the dropsy and yet euer drye Consumde with care and tired out with toyle Seeminge to liue and yet dost ever die How duâ—…st thou so the name of god blaspheme To giue to drosse so great a Diademe Thou stone-colde hart with hungriâ—…g after coine My care in heauen doth seeke my hartes content Thou scrapst for pelfe I seeke not to purloine In vertues field I seeke but mercies tent When wisdome findes in power of highest pleasure The world al trash compard to heauenly treasure Fowle is the faire that hath her gold in grace worthines the wit that hath in wealth his wonder vnlearned liues put gold in honors place wicked the state that will to coine cume vnder Base the conceite that seasonde is with golde And begger rules that such a reason holde Thou plodst for landes I seeke a liuing place Thou fearste but neede I mony make no friâ—…de Thy conscience cunning and my care is grace Thy wits welth wo my harts wish heauen at ende Thy golde is drosse and vertue is my crowne where hartes submission puls ambition downe Earth giues thee golde heauens giue me higher grace Men study wealth but Angels wisedomes state Laboure seekes pence loue hath a higher place Death makes thy reckening life is all my rate Thy happe is hell my hope of heauen doth holde God giue me grace die deuill with thy golde And with that worde the head beganne to shrincke The face dead pale and hollow grew the eies And so at laste did all and wholy sincke Into that hell that heade of Auarice when vp did start the heade of Gluttonie Vomiting out theese wordes of villany Poore 〈◊〉 begger whereon dost thou feede well fare the mouth that feedes the belly full what staruing humor standes thy wit insteede The want of victuaile makes the body dull I finde it true no triumph to a feast the belly full the bones will be at rest Some feede their eies withstaring on the starres And starue the body to content the minde Some with their wittes will be so long at warres They grate on crusts when other men haue dinde But let the franticke so their humor please Giue me the life of meate and drinke and ease VVhen that the earth doth giue vs pleasing foode what reason is it nature shoulde refuse it If reason finde what wil doe nature good what bootes to haue it if we doe not vse it Then let me feede while I haue power to eat The mouth was made to giue the body meat Oh when the tongue is pleased with a tast The stomacke feeds vntil the hart do laugh And then a cuppe with a carowsing cast And then a health out of a frindely quaffe Then workes the braine in such a blessed wise As if the body were in paradise VVhen thinking more to speake his mouth ranne ouer with beastly humors loathsome to beholde And in such sort as he coulde not recouer Till that he did his filthy sence vnfolde when stopping so the pilgrime gan replie Die ougly venum in thy villany Thou filthy fat and ouerfoggy flesh Foule bagpipe-cheekes eies starting from the head whom heauenly humors neuer can refresh That all in hel hast made thy hateful bedde Heauens let me fast from such a loathsome feast where to much feeding makes a man a beast Earth fill thine eies heauens feede my humble hart Drosse fil thy belly Grace content my minde Of worldly lunckets take thy pleasing part Grace giue my soule one crum I haue dinde So with thy frensies doe thy fansie please Heauens be my rest whom earth can neuer ease Earth feedes of earth heauens giue the spirit foode Nature corrupted lost the key of reason The body knowes not of the spirits good Vse is abuse where truth is â—…aust with treason Then role and tumble in thy beastly â—…iot The dish of mercy be my spirits diet Oh when the tongue is toucht with cruel fire The stomacke feedes of an infernal flame A cuppe of coles to quench a foule desire A cureles hatt consuming in the same Then workes the spirit with such woful cries As proues in hel was neuer paradise When this same filthy hedde of Glotony Beastly bedight with his abhorred diet Choked with venum of such villany As breedes the ground of natures most disquiet Soncke backe into the belly of the beast which of such spirites made his speciall feast When started vp the head of slouthfulnes with ougly clawes picking his gummy eies who with the noddes of natures he uines Did in few wordes this filthy speech deuise what humor wretch doth thee so waking keepe That thou canst feede vpon so little sleepe Sleepe is the pride of ease the height of pleasure The Nurse of nature and the rule of rest The thoughtes attonement and the sences treasure The bedde of loue that likes the body best Against vnrest the only remedy And onely medicine to ech mallady And therewithall vnwilling more to speake Such heauy qualmes his harte had ouercome with stretching yawnes as if his Iawes would breake Hee stopt his speech as wholy stroken dumme when nodding
conceite The Ladies faire and full of honours grace The seruantes wise that humbly did awaite Nothing amisse that nature coulde deuise To please the humor of Affections eies And let me not to slightly ouerpasse The pleasing ground of euery priuate grace where euery sence so sweetely pleased was As brought the wits into a wondrous case And such a case as had not vertue ben To garde their sence they had ben ouerseene To see the presence of a princely Queene To marke the course of graue discretion care To note the sightes that are but seldome seene where youthes desartes in beauties fauoure are To heare the musicke of most siluer voices And finde the restes wherein the song reioices To see what pleasure power hath in her hande To heare how youth can courte his kinde desire To see how wisedome doth in power commaunde And finde how beauty sets the hart on fier while humble seruauntes shewe their diligence Are not these notes for sweete experience To see how vertues are in honor placed To see the aged all with reuerence serued To see the humble by their seruice graced And beauties fame by faithfull loue preserued To see peace plenty wisedome honour loue Are these not pleasures for the hart to proue Now heere the pilgrime did beginne to feare Some of his seruants woulde be stolne awaie Either the Sente the rast the Eie the Eare Or els the Feeling woulde be forst to staie Yet for they sware their seruice to his will He fearde the lesse to leade them from their ill And when he sawe what perill was in greatnes while idle thoughtes in youthfull humors sit And what a folly was in to much featenes where beauties wonders did but blinde the wit And what long suites did gaine but little grace And last what daungers doe possesse the place With humble praier vnto the powers on high To blesse that prince and all those princely peeres which in the honour of discretions eie were calde the wonders of these latter yeeres From care and cost fancy and wisedomes folly He tooke his walke vnto a waie more holly WHere ere they came they came yet by the way Vnto a Campe on rather kingly fielde where many a stop did feare too long a stay Such choice of honors did such humors yeelde where horse and foote were so in order planted As no direction in discretion wanted The chiefe commaunder in his stately tente with noble mindes of Martiall men attended For euery doubt of euery ill intent with strongest gardes of watche and warde defended whose graue discretion rulde by sounde aduise Performde the plot of many a rare deuise To see the carefull Collonels directed Ech to his quarter and his regiment And how ech Captaine valiauntly effected The wonder grace of warlike gouernement To see the true discharge of euery office And then the honor of aduentures seruice To note the greate prouision euery waie For victuaile first munition armor shot For forrege for their horse for grasse and hay And such prouaunte as cheapest may be got For euery grounde for euery quarterfit Are not the workes for euery simple wit To heere the drummes and 〈◊〉 the larum strike The horses neie and then the trumpets sounde To see the horsemen charge vpon the pike And then the pikemen laie the horse on grounde To heare the Canons roar the small shot rattle And see their triumph that doe winne the battaile To marke the ordring of a court de garde To note the rules in walking of the rounde The scintinels and euery watch and warde And of the mines and working vnder grounde To marke the planting of their Ambuscados And in the night their sodaine canuassados To see a Citty sende her bullets out Against the force of all her cruell foes To see her wals all fortified about To beare the force of all their cruell blowes To make her foes perforce their siege to raise And through the world to winne a wonder praise Are heere not sights of force to staie the eie Or soundes of power for to in chaunt the eare Nay maie not wel the hart be drawen awry From all conceites to keepe his compasse there Sure so it had had not the spirit still Preseru'de the sences from a secretill For then againe to see a citty sackte Her buildings ruinde and her people slaine Her wals al razed and her castles crackt And al her welth but in a woful vaine Her olde men mourning and her young men dying The mothers weeping and their children crying To see her streetes alrunne with streames of blood Her houses burning all in flames offier To see her state that al in honor stoode Yeelde to the forces of their foes defire Her roial strength become a ruful storie And death sorrow ende of al her glorie To see the fielde with dead men ouer spread To see the aire infected al with smoake To see the valiaunt Caualieros dead And many a soldiour hurt with many a stroake To see the steedes lie tumbling on the earth And through the campe a Sickenes or a dearth To see the soldiour starue with lake of foode And in his march to die with lacke of drincke To see the rich men liue on poore mens bloode And one close humor at an other wincke To see each Captaine euerie waie anoied And by disorder all the campe destroied Did make the pilgrime willing to depart The place so ful of daunger and distresse where wits might worke but woful was the Arte where one mans health bred many heauines And therefore making there but little staie He followes patience on another way AND on they walke vntil anone they came Vnto a Church not built of lime or stone But that true Church of that Immortal fame That is worldes wonder and heauens loue alone whose head is Christ whose Martirs are his pillers And al whose members are his wordes wel-willers The gate is Grace Contrition is the key The locke is loue the porter Penitence where huÌ„ble faith must heauenly fauour stay Till pitty talke with vertues patience while Angels sighes the sinners waie deuise To haue his entraunce into paradise Which is in deede the plot of al perfection Drawne by the compasse of diuine conceite whose line is life laide by his loues direction who makes al flesh vpon the spirite waite whose flowers are fruites of faithes eternal fauour Sweete to the soule in euerliuing sauour Here sorrowes teares doe quenche the heate of sine And fire of loue doth kindle life againe Heere doth the grounde of glory first beginne And heere is vertue in her highest vaine Heere is in some the state of honours story And of all goodnes the eternall glory And heere is lo that heauenly paradise whereto the pilgrime made his pilgrimage where saâ—…red hiâ—…rcy first did solempnize The spirite to the fleshe in mariage And here the hart did finde his spirit blest To bring the sences to eternall rest Gloria in excelsis Deo IN this 〈◊〉 plot of reasons
when other life is dead Loue is thy grace that higest good doth giue Loue me then lorde and I shall euer liue And with that worde proceeding from her hart The trickeling teares distilled downe her eies As if her sence possest in euery part A secret ioie that did the soule surprise when lifting vp her handes oh loue quod shee My soule is sicke she cannot be with thee And from the mercy of thy maiesty Beholde the sorrowes of my wounded soule Let pitties care of loues calamitie My ruthfull teares thy register enrowle And thinke vpon the passions that I approue For truely lorde my soule is sicke of loue And sicke it is and so well maie it bee A sweeter sickenes then a worldly health A healthfull sickenes to be sicke for thee where Natures want doth proue the spirits wealth while hart hath set her highest happines But to beholde thee in thy holines But I am sicke and sicke in euery vaine Sicke to the death but not to die to thee For why thy loue assures me life againe And there to liue where death can neuer be Oh sweetest sicknes where the soule may see The way through death to come to liue with thee To liue with thee oh euer liuing loue Oh let me die that I may liue no more Till in thy loue I may the life approue That may confesse I neuer liu'de before Life is but death where thy loue shineth neuer Onely thy loue is happy life for euer My sinnes my sinnes with sorrow and with shame Of faultes and follies couerd haue my face Death is my due I haue deseru'd the same Wo to the hart in such vnhappy case But if repentance mercy may obtaine Looke on me loue and I am well againe Vnhappy hart that euer thee offended Vnworthy eies thy blessing to beholde Vncarefull eare that euer tale attended But to the truth that hath thy mercy tolde vnfaithful soule that euer thought did moue From euerliuing with thine onely loue But now the hartis dead to worldes delight And eies in teares pronounce repentance truth The eare is deafe vntill the hart be right To see the life that of thy loue ensueth The faithfull soule of pleasure is depriued Dead till her life be by thy loue reuiued Nor let me teâ—…pt that 〈◊〉 loue of thine To hasten time beyonde thy holy will But only looke vpon this soule of mine That in thy loue may be her liuing still Till shee may heare this ioiful â—…ounde of thee Come away loue and euer liue with me But yet my loue me 〈◊〉 I see thee looke As though my soule had thee displeased sore But hath my loue so high displeasure tooke That he will looke vpon my loue no more Oh yes my loue will not be angry euer And where he loues he will be angry neuer Then though thou chide yet be not angry loue But in thy kindenes giues thy sweete correction That humble hart maie in repentance proue The dearest passage of thy loues direction whose blessed ende may in this only be To liue to die to die to liue to thee Me thinkes I see that glorious seate of thine whereto thy Saints and Angels al assemble And in the presence of thy power diuine with Ioifull feare how euen the highest tremble And when those spirits doe such passions proue Shall I presume to think vpon thy loue Oh sweetest loue that carries such a force As keepes the hart of humble hope in awe And sweete againe that caries such remorse As hath cut off the curses of the lawe And sweetest yit that in the soule doth proue There is no sweete indeede but in thy loue Which feeds the huÌ„gry with a heaueÌ„ly bread And cooles the thirsty from the liuing Rocke which heales the sicke giues life vnto the dead And wakes the careful with the morning Cocke which breedes the peace that stinteth euery strife And giues the fountaine of the well of life It is the key that opes the doore of grace Vnto the care that thou hast constant proued And shewes the fauour of thy shining face Vnto the blessed of thy deare beloued It is in summe the infinite sweete pleasure Of tried faith and true Repentance treasure Oh ioy ofioies what hart can comprehend thee Oh sweet of sweets what sence that can coÌ„ceiue thee Blest be the harts that truly doe attend thee And ten times blest that in their soules receiue thee And fairely blest whom thou hast faithful proued But chiefly blest whom thou hast chiefly loued Me thinkes I see how sweetly thou dost ride Aboue the heauens vpon the Cherubs high with all thine Angels set on euery side with all the sound of sweetest harmony wheral some their sweetest notes do frame To sing the praises of thy holy name Me thinkes I see thy holy Martyrs crowned On huÌ„ble knees cast down their crowns before thee And cry alowd be thou alone renowned Let heauen and earth and all the world adore thee when my poore soule with sinne oppressed sore Can say Amen yet though it say no more Oh that my soule could see that sacred light That might but leade me to thy holy will And learne the rule that keepes the soule aright In perfect faith thy precepts to fulfill And might so neere vnto thy hand abide As from thy loue might neuer steppe aside But what am Iâ—… a worme and wretched thing Vnworthy creature made of earth and claie Once to presume to speake vnto my King On whom the state of highest heauens doth staie Let not presumption thy displeasure moue But in thy pitty looke vpon my loue For I am sicke oh sauiour sende me health My hart is hurt come heale my deadly wounde And I am poore relieue me with thy wealth Yea I am dead oh raise me from the grounde My health my wealth my only resurrection let my soule liue but in thy loues perfection Beholde the tearâ—…s of my repentaunt truth And wey my sorrowes by my sighing sobbes And in the rule but of thy heauenly ruth Feele my poore hart in horror how it throbbes And when thou seest my soule thus wo begun her In thy sweete mercy sweete loue looke vpon her And from the dew of thy deare blessed loue Let fall one droppe vpon my dried hart wherein my soule such comfort maie approue As maie asswage the rigour of my smart And being so by thy sweete hand relieued Maie so reioice as neuer more be grieued Lorde who dare looke against thy liuing power Or what doth liue but onely in thy loue The sweete of sweets where there was neuer sower But ioies of ioies that can no sorrow proue Oh purest proofe of loue and lifes perfection Blest be the soule that liues by thy direction But my hart pantes my soule doth quake for feare And sorrowes paine possesseth euery part My heape of sinnes to heuy for to beare Presse downe desire with terror of desart And in great dread of deepe dispaire doth crie Grace giue me life for
on thy mercie let me onlie staie That my poore soule maie in thy comfort proue Lo what it is to liue but in thy loue Some wish for golde and some for golden graces Some wish for wit and some for worldely pleasure Some wish for power and some for stately places And some alone doe wish for worldely treasure But let my will those wishes all displace And wish alone thy fauour and thy grace Some in their chariots some in horses trust But be thou still a strong defence to me Some heere desire but to possesse their lust Let my soules loue be but to liue to thee Some wish but here to purchase worldly fame Let me but ioie to glorify thy name And not alone in sweetest wordes to moue The worldly eares to wonder at the same But in my workes thy praises I maie proue I doe but seeke the honour of thy name That all true soules maie iustly saie with me All that is good directly comes of thee Let me but tuch the garment of thy grace I shall be healed of my sickest sore Let me but looke vpon thy louing face Such health will come I shall be sicke no more Yea if thy mercy mi◅igate my paine If I were dead I shoulde reuiue againe Forget oh lorde the follies of my youth And giue me not the death of my desart But of the treasures of thy heauenly Truth Bestow an almes on my needy hart That in the secrets of thy sacred loue My carefull soule her comfort may approue Let not mine eare one listen to the sounde Of vaine conceits that but deceiue the minde Nor let the worlde so giue my hart a wounde That in my soule mine eie be stroken blinde But let my spirit onely make her choise But in thy loue and mercy to reioice Oh that my waies were all and whole directed Vnto the seruice of thy sacred will And that my faith had in my soule effected The happy comfort of that heauenly skill That in true loue might euer so attende thee As in default might neuer more offende thee That I might leaue this lothsome world of ours And chuse the honor of thy childrens awe And in thy heauen and with thy heauenly powers Learne but obedience to thy blessed lawe And with thy saints and holy Martyrs sing All lawde and glory to my heauenly king Then should my hart finde out my heaunly rest And sorrow then should tuch my soule no more But hart and soule both in thy mercie blest Should daie and night thy holy name dore And make the worlde by some effectes to see It is thy loue hath wrought this life in me And with that worde she sweetly fetch a sigh And then a sobbe and then a bitter teare As who should saie that either death was nigh Or els her hart was stroken with a feare Or els the spirit might be ouercome That for the time her tongue was stroken dumme But let it be all blessed is the traunce when so the soule is ouercome with loue That vertues choice doth finde it is no chaunce when humble faith doth heaunly fauour proue And when the sences from their sleepe arise The spirit findes the life that neuer dies So when it seemde shee waked from her sleepe Or sodaine traunce for so I tearme it right when such high care did so her sences keepe That shee awakt with glory of the light Oh sacred loue and sweetest life quod shee what happy figure hath appearde to me Did I beholde that fairest shining light That made me shake for feare to see thy face And weepe for ioie that in thy blessed sight My sinfull soule might come and sue for grace And did I see thy loue so sweetely vse mee That in thy mercy thou wouldst not refuse me And did thy mercy so thy loue entreate That iustice gaue her sworde to mercies hande And did thy mercy sit in iustice seate And did the iudgement in thy mercie stande Oh blessed loue where mercie doth approue The fruite of loue is mercie mercies loue I must confesse my conscience did cond◅mne me Of such offence as I coulde not denie And of such crime as thou migh◅st well contēne me when by my due I had deseru'd to die But when thy mercy did my sorrowe see How in thy pitty shee did pleade for me Beholde quod shee the true repentant hart which bleedes in teares with sorrowe of her sinne what passions haue perplexed euery part where penitence doth pitties suite beginne where true confession doth submission proue And true contrition cries to me for loue Beholde the faith that hath her fairest holde Vpon the gift of thy especiall grace Thy word of truth that to the world hath told The faithfull soule in heauen shall haue a place And true repentance shall by me obtaine The freed ioyes from euerlasting paine VVhen that vile serpent euery soules accuser That sought to bring my comforts to decay That ougly deuil al the worldes abuser In furies rage me thought did fly awaie And to the life but of thy mercy leaue me who to thy seruice sweetely did receiue me VVhen all thy Saintes and martyrs came vnto me And in their armes thine Angels did embrace me And all were glad what comfort they could doe me And in a seate of paradise so place me That al with ioie surprisde these ioies to see I wake and praie the vision true may bee For this is it sweete Lorde that I would haue The world is short in sounding my desire It is thy mercy that I onelie craue Thy vertues loue that set my hart on fire And in thy loue that onely liuing blisse That world may wish but know not what it is FINIS Errata Pag. 8 lin ◅ on for one p. 11. l. 2. end for sed l. 10. endings for sendings p. 28. l. 19. in gold her grace for her gold in grace lin 20. for worthines read worthles l. 21. lines for li◅es p. 40. lin 18. can offend me for offend me