H. His deuises, for his owne exercise, and his friends pleasure

Delightfull Discourses to sundry purposes .

¶ No assurance but in Vertue . WHo wisely skans , the weake and brittle stayes , That Natures Imps , within thys vale possesse , The dyuers haps , the straunge vncertayne wayes , That headlong forth we runne beyonde all gesse , Shall soone perceyue , that euery worldly ioye , Short pleasures yéelds , imixte with long anoye . Though whorde of heaped store , for more delight , Our Cofers kéepe , to please our gréedie luste : Yea , though our time we passe in ioyfull plight , And in thys lyfe repose our chiefest trust , Yet worldly pompe , when all is sayde and done , Doth vade away , lyke Snowe against the Sonne . A tyme of byrth Dame Nature doth vs giue , A tyme to dye shée lykewise doth prouyde : No sooner doe we fyrst beginne to liue , But straight to death vnwares a way we slyde , And yet alas , our fancies are so frayle , That all our ioye is here to hoyse vp Sayle . But such as set their Heauen of lingering lyfe , In pleasures lap , whose froward tickle whéele ( Sayth wisdoms sonne ) with frowning turne is ryse , To drowne their blisse , that blyndly so doe réele , By searche shall fynde , eche fléeting pleasure vaine , When Uertues Impes , with Uertue highe shall raigne . Then who so sées , the Sugar strawde on Gall , And shunnes the same , by sacred Uertues skill ▪ Shall safely stande , when Follyes children fall , That héedlesse holde , Dame pleasures wanton will , Thus Uertue stayeth , when Uices steps doe slyde , So are they blest , that doe in Uertue byde .

¶ Prosperitie ought not cause presumption , nor aduersitie force dispayre . WHere Fortune fauoreth not , what labor may preuaile ? Whom frowning fate wil néeds thrust down , what shal he win to waile ? With pacient mind to yéeld , is sure the soundest way , And cast our cares and griefe on him , that fatall force doth sway . For Death with equall pace , doth passe to Princes gate , And there as at the Cottage poore , doth knock in one like state . The tyme or maner how , the highst no more can tell . Then poorest Peysant placed here , in base estate to dwell . Sithe then such féeble stay , in mortall might we finde , Why should the wante of worldly drosse , in dole once daunt our minde . The Iylman pore in toyle , that spends the weary day , Whose welth will scarce supply his wante , when some whoorde heaps that play . Fals not to flat dispaire , ne yet his labor leaues , Though scarce the stubble prooues his share , when others shock the sheaues But liues with mind content , more frée from care & strife , Then those that hunger highest hap , where dangers dwel most rife . Though prowde ambition blinde , puft vp with glory vaine , Detest their state that riches wante , with hawty high disdaine . The Seas oft troubled are , by winds that whyrling flye , When shallow streams yéeld water cléere , in valleis low that lye . High Mountaynes set on fyre , by lightning eke we sée , When Pastures placed vnderneath , in nothing altered bée . The formost fronte in fight , are néerest deadly wounde , The lofty trée is soonst blowne down , & leueld with the grounde . So such as thirst to clymbe , to daunger most are thrall , Whose slyding glory sawced is , with honey mixt with Gall. For who so gript with griefe , if Fortune liste to lowre , As those that earst did féede at full , vpon her fayrest flowre ? Which change full oft hath falne , through her vnconstansnesse , And whome she lately laught vpon , throwne downe remedilesse . Was Alexander great , that many daungers past , For all his mightie conquest wonne , not slayne himselfe at last ? A kings sonne eke I finde , for Fathers tyranny , Constraynde to worke a Smith in Forge , by harde necessity . Such is the fading force , of Fortunes fickle powre , Whose fruitfulst fruite both rypes and rottes , in lesse space then an howre . Such is her tickle trust , such are her slipper steps , That what she séemes to sowe in ioy , with sorrow oft she reaps . Attribute all to him , that fate doth guyde therefore , With wylling mind embrace thy lot , where rich thou be or pore .

¶ Once warnde , twice armde . WHylste slye deceyte , by sleight of smyling cheare , Yéeldes tickling hope , to dandle on our dayes : We dread no guyle , no doubling drift we feare , Our sounde beliefe such setled trust doth rayse . But when in fyne , we finde our selues missed . We blame the frawde that so our fancies fed . And gripte with griefe , our former trust we wayle , Exclayming lowde that falshood so can fayne , When glosing shewes clokt vnder friendships vayle , Fals out but sleyght , to foster hope in vayne . Loe thus full oft , what déemde hath bene the sunne . Proofe Cynthea findes , whose course more lowe doth runne . As some haue tryde through time and trauell spente , Who traynde by trust , haue déemde good hap there plast , Had swayed the soyle , where ruine all to rente , Hath due desart , with rigour downe defast . Whose short regarde , for long imployed toyle , May warne the wise of frawde to feare the foyle .

¶ Flattery the Vayle of Frawde . FAyre words foule déeds , pretended and forethought , Who can but hate , that holds the feare of God : Fayne you that lyst , such practise prooues but nought , Uyle diuelishe driftes , prouoke Ioues wrathfull rod , Which sure will fall , if we in synne perseuer , Shame is the fruite , of frawde and foule endeuor . Wherein beholde , some maske in Nettes at Noone , Yet déeme they walke in clowdes of close disguise : Hoyste vp in thought , to reache beyonde the Moone , When all the worlde , their couert cunning spyes . But these to name , my pen and spéeche shall spare , Who medleth least , least cumbred is with care . It me suffizen may to note their driftes , That wéene by wyles , the worlde to weald at will : Their glosing shewes , their slye and guylefull shiftes , To trayne such on , as fynde not out their skyll . Whose turnes to serue , though fooles a tyme be dandled , The wyser wincke , that sée how things are handled .

¶ No greater contrariety , then in the passions of Loue . IN wyll to strong , in worke to weake is loue , In hope to bolde , in feare more faynte then néedes : In thought a thousand guyles it stryues to proue , In guyle , suspition painefull passions bréedes . Suspition easely yéelds to light beléefe , And light beléefe to iealousie is thrall , The iealous mynde deuoures it selfe with griefe , Thus loue at once doth frye , fréese , ryse and fall . On pleasures paste to thinke , it takes delighte , Whyles present blisse , by fonde conceyte it balkes , Although the fruite it fynde , be pensiue plight , For better chaunce , yet carelesse on it walkes , These are the séedes that Venus Baby sowes , As taste they shall , the bitter crop that mowes .

¶ In vttering of sorrowe , some solace . MY carefull case , and pensiue pyning plight , Constraynth my Pen , against my will to wright : The plunged state , wherein I lyue and dwell , Doth force me forth , my dolefull tale to tell . My heaped woes , all solace sets asyde , Whose secret smarte ( alas ) I faine would hyde , But as the subiect Oxe , to yoke must yéelde , So vanquisht wightes , are forste forsake the féelde . My lucklesse lotte , denies me all releife , I séeke for helpe , but finde increase of griefe . I languishe still , in long and déepe dispaire , Yet shunne to shewe the cause of this my care . I couet nought , that reason might denye , Ne doe I séeke by meanes to mounte on hye : But what I séeke , if I the same might finde , Then easde should be , mine vncontented mynde .

¶ Miserie the ende of Letchery . O Fylthy Letchery , Fyre of foule fraylty , Nursse to ympietie , Warre , pryde and ielouste , Whose substance is gluttony , Whose smoke is infamy , Whose sparkes are vanity , Whose flame obscurity , Whose coles impurity , And ashes mysery .

¶ The paines of Louers great , but mine grieuous . THe Frost in flame that Louers finde , And swelting heat in chilly colde , So quite contrary are by kinde , As strange it séemeth to beholde , Strange is the feare that makes them fainte , And strange the care that chokes their ioy , Yet stranger passions me attaynte , The onely Nursse of mine annoy .

¶ Ruine the rewarde of Vice . TO you fayre Dames whose bewties braue do floorish , To you whose daintie dayes in ioye are spent : To you whose prayse Dame Nature séekes to poolish , To you whose fancie Venus doth frequent . To you I wryte with harte and good intent , That you may note by viewe of what I say , How Natures giftes soone vade and slyde away . Your loftie lookes , time downe full lowe shall raze , Your stately steps age eke will alter quite : Your fraile desyre that kindleth Cupids blase , Whose heate is prone to follow foule delight , The whip shal be , that shall you sharply smite : When euery vice that sproong of Fancies fittes , Repentance brings , to those the same committes . Is not the pride of Helens prayse bereft ? And Cresside staynde , that Troian knight imbrased : Whose bewties bright but darke defame hath left , Unto them both through wanton déedes preferred . As they by dynte of Death their dayes haue ended , So shall your youth , your pompe , and bewties grace , When nothing else but vertue may take place . Then shake of Uice ye Nymphes of Cressids Crue , And Uertue séeke , whose praise shall neuer die : With fylthie lust your bodies not imbrue , As did this Ilion Dame most wickedly , Whose blisse by bale was plagude so gréeuously , That loe her lyfe in Lazars lodge she ended , Who erst in Courte most curiouslye was tended . Her Corps that did King Priams sonne delight , Consumde with cares , sent forth sad sighes full colde : Her azurde vaynes , her face and skinne so white , With purple spottes , séemde vgly to beholde . Eche lymme alas corruption gan vnfolde , In which distresse , and bitter straine of ruth , She begges her bread , for forsing fayth and truth . No sorrow then might salue her lewde offence , Nor raze the blotte that bred her black defame : Her dolefull daies alas founde no defence : T was now to late to shunne the sheete of shame , Which had bewrapt her wrackfull blemisht name , So brode was blowne her crime and cursed case , That worlds bewrayed her frowning fates disgrase . Loe here the ende of foule defyled lyfe , Loe here the fruite that sinne both sowes and reapes : Loe here of Uice the right reward and knyfe , That cuttes of cleane and tumbleth downe in heapes , All such as tread Dame Cressids cursed steppes , Take héede therfore how you your pryme do spende , For Uice brings plagues , and Uertue happy ende .

¶ The best Natures , soonest abused . BEtwixte my hope and dreade , grewe such debate , When fyrst I sought these naked lynes to frame , That long I pawsde , as doubtfull to dilate , Whether best procéede , or else leaue of the same . Tyll hope at last , dispayre doth banishe quight , And wylles my Pen assay in verse to wright . Feare not ( quoth hope ) to shewe thy wylling will , ( Smale séedes sometyme may light on gratefull grounde : ) If none had wrote but Clarks of Tullies skill , Swéete sawes had sunck , which now aflote are founde , Then cast of dread , dispayre no whyt at all , Diseases great are cuerd with Medicins small . These chéerefull wordes , no sooner gan reuiue My Muse , but straight in mynde I me bethought , How Gnatos secte through flattery doe contriue , Eche guilefull glose , tyll they their wyles haue wrought , Whose great abuse , though briefely here I touch , I spare to speake , what might be sayde of such . Of friendship sounde , though sundry yéelde a showe , Yet fewe there be , in whome is tryed trust : Such frawde in friendly lookes doth dayly growe , That who most fawnes , ofte proues the most vniust : Who sooner shall well meaning mindes betray , Then such as best can Sinons pagent play . As Saylers earst , by Sirens songs alurde , Deuoured were that lackt Vlisses skill , So Noble minds by such haue bene procurde , To credite toyes , that turnde to greater ill . The Serpent wise , to stop hir eares déemes méete , When Charmer séemes to charme with voyce most swéete . For lyke as shadowe plaste before the eyes , Is not the thing that it doth represent : Nor al prooues Gold that shines when touchstone tries , Though fayre it séeme vnto some foule intent : No more doe words that passe from flattering sorte , Yéelde such effect as they doe oft report . Some friendship faine to giue the greater gléeke , Displeasures doubt another sort constraines : To soothe vp things , which they perhaps mislike , By meanes whereof vnséene , great mischiefe raignes . Some fawne to serue their turne , where fortune smiles , But if she frowne , they flée with all their wiles . ¶ Such shewes right well , comparde may be to shade , That séelde is séene , but where the Sunne doth shine : For as those shapes with euery clowde doe vade , So Flatterers faile if Fortune once decline . Use Serpents skill against this subtill kinde , Floodes drowne no Fields , before some brack they finde . As fyre doth fine , and seperate Golde from drosse , And shews the pure and perfite from the vyle : So tryed is when wrackfull stormes doe tosse , The faythfull friend from such as meane but guyle . For like as Doues delight in buyldings newe , To Cressus Court , so flocks Corebus crewe . Let wisedome therfore weld your wayes and déedes , Whose prudent poise brings darkest doubts to light : To quick mistrust in trustiest , treason bréedes , The hastie credite oft déemes wrong for right . Accounte of those , whome Uertues raigne doth guyde , For such will stande , when glosing Gnatos slyde .

¶ He lykeneth his lotte to Virgils . THough Virgils Uearse , for loftie style were rare , Surmounting farre my féeble Muses might : Yet in this poynte my case I may compare With his , what tyme another claymde his right , And say with him , though I the séede did sowe , Another séekes the fruite therof to mowe . Like as the toyling Oxe the Plow doth pull , And hath but stalkes , when others share the eares : Or as the shéepe that Nature clothes with wooll . Brings forth the Fléece , the shearer from him sheares , Euen much alike it fareth now with me , That forst the ground , where others reape the Fée . I bred the Bées , thou wouldst the Honey haue , I tylde the soyle , thou séekste by guyle the gaine : I owe the Trée , thou deest the branches craue , Thou prickst for prayse , where none but I tooke paine . What déedes denie , some wynne by naked wordes , I hatchte the broode , though thou possesse the byrdes . Who so doth holde the light , whilst others Maske , No Masker is perdie , you know right well : Nor all whose shewes would clayme the greatest taske , Deserues the same , when truth her tale doth tell . Though mine the wrong , yet séemes the losse so light , As shame forbids me more therof to write .

¶ All of greene Willow , Willow , Willow , Willow , Sithe all of greene Willow shall be my Garland . IMbrace your Bayes swéetely , that smile in loue , And deck you with Lawrell , that dwell in delig●● To me most vnhappy , still spurnde by dispight . Is giuen writhed Willows to expresse my state rig● Pursuing the Panther whose swéete doth abound , A most cruell Uiper my hard fate hath found : Whose nature to Spyders I well may compare , That mercylesse murders , what s caught in her snare . The Lyon doth tender the beast that doth yéelde , The Tyger séemes constant , once conquerd in fielde : Bellona shewes fauour to Captiues that sue , But Venus refuseth my dolors to rue . How shall I to ease me vnburden my brest , Of these pensiue passions that bréeds my vnrest : When spéech wanteth powre , when voyce is vnprest , And wyt wanteth cunning to compasse loues hest . Yet what auayles words , where eares words doe flée , Though words to the minde , true messengers bée ? Or what vayleth wyt , where wyll is vntowarde ? The sacrifice lost , where Saints be so frowarde .

¶ All of greene Lawrell . TO sing of sorrowe still , Attending Venus will , Were now but lack of skill , Pittie lyes deade : Then cast of mourning cheare , Let ioyfull plight appeare , Where clowds doe neuer cleare , Comfort is fledde . Looke vp to the Lawrell , and let Willow goe , And trust to the true friend , imbrace not thy foe , Sing all of gréene Lawrell : By trauaile who stryueth , to winne thanklesse wight , Is lyke one that washeth a black a Moore white , Let all of gréene Lawrell bedeck thy Garland . Though some distill their teares , That wrythed Willow weares , Yet fainte not at their feares , Séeme not to dread : The wisest haue done so , The Ualiant wrapt in wo , Haue taken ouerthrow , By Fancie led . Where wyt is constrayned by will to giue place , Their songs are of sorrow , that ioyes would embrace , Sing all of gréene Lawrell . Let no deceytfull shewes of Venus bright shine , Haue power once to pierce the sounde harte of thine , So shall the gréene Lawrell set forth thy garland . Waygh not the wauering minde , That fléetes with euery winde , Tyll thou some stay doe finde , Trust not to farre . Unto Dame Constancy , Bende still thy battery , Flye fast from flattery , With bewtie make warre . So shall thy well lyking not harme thée at all , For fayth fixed firmely , such fauour will fall , That all of gréene Lawrell , &c. When others in dolor their wrack shall bewayle , Thy shyp on the sounde seas in safetie may sayle , Where crownde with gréene Lawrel , in ioy thou shalt sing .

¶ No newe fancies , shall alter olde lyking . THough Paris prayse , Apollos Impe gan stayne , When change of choyce his fickle humor fedde , And Carthage cryes , with strayned voyce complayne , On periurde Prince , by night that faithlesse fledde . Though Iasons heste Medea founde vntrue , And others mo there be whose fancye past : That skorne the olde still haunting after newe , Wythin whose hartes no léeking long may last , Yet tyll syr Phebus beames shall lose their light , And Ocean Seas doe cease to ebbe and flowe : Untill the day shall turne to perfite night , And Natures course against her kinde shall goe . My fixed fayth vnspotted shall remayne , What would you more , I vowe I doe not fayne .

¶ A Dreame . WHen Phebus bright was setled in the West , And darknesse dimme , the earth had ouerspread : When sylent night , that moues eche thing to rest , With quyet pawse , had plaste me in my bed , In stombring Dreame , me thought I heard a wyght , His woes bewayle , that grewe through loues despyght . Whose wearing wéede and vestures all were gréene , Saue that his loynes with black were girded rounde : And on his brest a badge of blewe was séene , In signe his fayth and truth remayned sounde . He sighed oft and said , O blisfull hier , When hope with hap , may ioye in his desier . But still to hope , and finde therein no fruite , To be in bed , and restlesse there remayne : To séeke to serue , and daylie make pursute , To such as set but light of weary payne , Doth bréede such balefull dole within the brest , As quyte bereaues all ioye and quyet rest . Though taste of sower , deserue the swéete to gayne , Yet cruell Fate I sée the same denyes : So that desyre and wisdome prooues but vayne , Without accorde and fauour of the Skyes . But stedfast hope , séeme not ( quoth he ) to quayle , The heauens in tyme , may turne to thine auayle , Scarse had he thus his wofull spéeche concluded , When wake I did , and sawe my selfe deluded .

¶ The lamentable ende of Iulia Pompeis Wyfe . SOre plungde in gréeuous paynes and wofull smarte , Bedewed with trickling teares on Death like face : Downe trylles the drops on chéekes & sighs from hart , To heare and sée her husbands dolefull case . Thus goes thys spouse , the wofull Iulia , Besprent with bloud , when Pompeis Cote she saw . Downe dead she falles in lamentable sounde , Of sence bereft ( so great was sorrowes strayne ) The chylde conceyude within by deadly wounde , Untymely fruite came forth with pinching payne . When all was done , for loue her lyfe she lost , For Pompeis sake , shée yéelded vp her Ghost . So dead she laye , bewaylde with many teares , A Matrone wise , a famous Ornament : O Caesar she had séene full chéerefull yeares , If thou with Pompey couldst haue bene content , But ciuill warres hath wrought this fatall stryfe , To Pompey death , to Iulia losse of lyfe .

¶ Secrecy , for some sorrowes , a needefull remedy . LIke as the captiue Wight , in chayned lincks doth lye , And hopes at Sise to be releast , is then condemde to dye . Euen so alas my lot , by frowning fate doth fall , That sought to féede on swéete delight , but found most bitter Gall. My restlesse labor lost , I iustly may compare , To Sisiphus that neuer sleepes , and griefe to Titius care . For after sundry stormes , when calme I thinke to finde , More rougher rage a new doth rise , to straine my daunted minde . And when my quelling cares , I seeke by meanes to cure , Most deepest dynte of inwarde woe , alas I doe endure . Prometheus pincht with payne , nor Ixion whyrlde on wheele . More grypes by griefe doe not sustaine , then I vnhappy feele . The somme of my vnrest , yet couert will I keepe , And secretly my sorrowes sup , when others sounde doe sleepe . To ease my pensyue brest , a Uearse though here I frame , The bursting forth of sorrows mine , shal bréed no further blame . My sydes shall shryne this smart , my hart shall wast with woe , Ere I the secrete of my cause , bewray to friend or foe . Saue onely to the Saint , that swayes my lyfe at wyll , Whose pittie may prolong the same , or crueltie may kyll .

¶ The ende of lyfe , the begynning of blysse . WHy shoulde we feare to dye ? Or séeke from Death to flye , When Death the way doth make , Eche worldly woe to slake , By whome we passe to ioye , Where neuer comes annoye . Our tryflying tryumphs héere , Though we estéeme them deere , Are like to vapours vayne , That waste with little rayne . Deluding Dreames in déede , Whereon our fancies féede . What yéelde our pleasures all , But swéetenesse mixt with Gall , Their pryme of chiefest pride , Unwares away doth slide , Whose shewe of swéete delight , Oft dymmes our perfyte sight . Though Ioue in loftie seate , Haue placed Princes great , With Regall rule to raigne , His glory to explaine , Yet vades their pompe and powre , As doth the wythred Flowre . Loe here the surest staye , The worlde doth yéelde vs aye , Thy dearest friend to daye , To morrow falles away , Whose wante thou doest bewayle , When teares may nought preuayle . Sithe lyfe is myserie , Uoyde of felicitie , Full of anxietie , Giuen to impietie , The death I happy call , That doth bereaue such thrall .

¶ They soonest yeelde remedy , that haue felt lyke extremetie . THe flames of fyre and clowds of cold , repugnant in my brest , Hath quite exiled me from ioy , and rest all quiet rest . Yet oft ( alas ) in shewe I smile , to shade my inwarde smarte , When in my laughter waues of woe , well nie do burst my harte . Whose driery thoughts I would to God , were séene so ful to thée , As mine afflicted minde in payne , doth powre them out on mée . So should perhaps thy frozen hart , now harde as Flintie stone , Within thy brest with melting teares , take ruth on this my mone . But as he well cannot discerne , what tempest Saylers trye , That neuer crost the checking tydes , that surge with waues on hye . No more canst thou my cares descry , for wante of ryper skill , Although in déede the shewes thereof , doe pleade for pittie still . In vayne therfore my pensiue plaintes , by Pen I doe expresse , When both thy will and want of skill , denies to yéelde redresse . The cruell fates ( I feare ) forbids ; that I such blisse should finde . Or sacred Ioue some other hap , hath to my share assignde ,

¶ A Poesie . SIthe follye t is to wishe , what may not be enioyed , And wisdom to eschew the harmes , wherwith we are anoyed . Let reason guyde thy thoughts , when fancie most doth fight , And count him victor of the Field , that conquers bewties might .

¶ Vnthankfulnesse of minde , a monster in Nature . ON thanklesse Friend , whose trauayle is imployde , With Asses Damme shall reape ingratefull méede : Whose wanton Fole by her swéete mylke acloyde , Oft kicks the Nurse , that doth it choycely féede , As doe the Uipers broode , whose yongling long , When mothers care with tender loue hath cherisht : Requite the same with such vngratefull wrong , That in rewarde , her lyfe by them is perisht . Whose Nature is vnkindly to deuoure , The wombe whence fyrst they tooke their lyuing powre . To whom we may the vngratefull sorte compare , That Uiper lyke séeke spoyle ▪ where they should spare .

¶ Noble minds eyther conquer , or couer . AS Scipio smylde to cloke his couert smarte , What tyme he sawe his happy state declyne ▪ So some alike doe shadowe griefe of harte , With outwarde myrth , when inwardly they pyne . And to the worlde yéelde forth such shewes of ioye , As fewe would déeme , they once did tast annoye . When they in déede , with Scipios griefe complayne , Their short regarde , for long employed payne .

¶ Vngie seruirey . TO serue but one , a constant courage showes , Who serueth more , he rightly serueth none : Base is the minde that bends so many Bowes , Next God , a Prince we ought obey but one . One God , one Prince , he serues , defends and feares , Vngie seruirey , for his worde that beares .

¶ Doe , or be still . THe shallow streames , doe murmour more then déepe , And Cowards bragge , that dares no weapons prooue : Those Dogs byte least , that greatest barkings kéepe , Some do but fayne , whose shewes séeme farre in loue . Sounde is the Trée , whence friendships fruite doth spring , Doe or be still , let none but Syrens sing .

¶ He denies quickly , that giues slowly . LIngring delayes , flacke payments doe foreshowe , Better no promise , then no performance : Sleight are the sorrowes , slakte with comforts flowe , Eyther sende , or ende , yéelde some assurance . Shyfting delaye , mistyking off doth bréede , They soone denye , whose Suters slowly spéede .

¶ Women are wordes , Men are deedes . IF nought but wordes in women to be founde , Then what are they , men , women , or Monsters , That yéelde lyke fruite ? or else a hollowe sounde , Which substance none , but ayre forth vtters . By déedes and not by words , men praise obtayne , Monsters , no men , whose déedes their words doe stayne .

¶ Enuye euer depraueth deserte . THou snarling Curre , that crept in Maunger lyes , And lets the Courser there to reache his right : Thy malice great , and swelling false surmise , Thought shouldst barke , before thou secrete bite . But sythe thy cankered nature ( néedes I sée , ) Must byte or burst , I open warre denownce , Against thy kinde , what euer so thou bée , Which séeks by guile our buyldings downe to bownce . With Syrens voyce thy tune thou séekst to fayne , As though in déede our braynes so barren were : We could not compasse tryflyng toyes most playne . Unlesse our light we sought some other where . Thou barkst abrode of Bookes , from whence it came , But can thy head ( in fayth ) no better gesse : The toyes themselues doe bid thée cease for shame , Lest more thou spurne , more folly thou expresse . Well Momus mate , and sonne of Zoylus secte , That so canst carpe at euery wylling minde : Raze nothing downe , till something thou erecte , Spare others spoyle , sythe nought in thée we finde . Let them enioye the fruites of their desyre , That séekes good will , and craues no other hyre .

¶ A Winters Morning muse . AS by occasion late , towards Brutus Citie olde , With quiet pace alone I rode , in winter sharp & colde . In my delating brains , a thousand thoughts were fed , And battaile wise a warre they made , in my perplexed hed . I thought on tymely change , and musde on yerely waste , How winter aye deuours the welth , that pleasant sommer plast . I sawe the naked Fields vnclothde on euery side , The beaten bushes stand al bare , that late were deckt with pride . Whose fainting sap was fled , and falne from top to roote , Eche trée had newe cast of his Cote , and laid him at his foote . The smale and syllie Byrds , sat houering in the hedge , And water Fowles by Wynter forst , forsooke the Fenny sedge . Thus Nature altering quite , her earthly childrens chéere , Doth shewe what brittle stay of state , and féeble holde is héere . Who as in slender things , she shewes her yerely might , So doth she like attempt her force , in all degrées aright . For as I musing rode , I plainely might perceaue , That like both change and chance there was , mans state that did bereaue . I sawe the mounting minde , that clymbde to reach the Skyes , Aduanced vp by Fortunes whéele , on tickle stay that lyes , Fall soone to flat decay , and headlong downe doth reele , As fickle Fortune list to whyrle , her rounde vnstable whéele . Was neuer Prince of power , so safe in his degrée , But déemde sometime the meaner sort , to syt more sure then hée . Then to my selfe I sayde , if Fortune stande vnsure , And highest type of worldly hap , vncertaine doe endure . Why thirst we so to raigne ? why hunger we for heape ? Why presse we forth for worldly pompe , with brech of quiet sleape ? Which lyke a Mothe eates out , the gaine of godly lyfe , With all that stretch their vaine desyre , to wrest thys worlde in stryfe . Whose fruite of toyling paine , by sweate and sorrow sought , Is lost in twinckling of an eye , our name consumde to nought . Yea though by worldly wyles , we thousande driftes deuise , A God there is that laughes to scorne , the wisedome of the wise . When thus along my waye , I diuersly had musde , I founde whome Fortune high did heaue , on sodaine she refusde . Then he by Uertue stayde , me thought the rest did passe , So farre as doth the purest Golde , the vile and basest brasse . Euen he I déemed blest , that wearing Uertues Crowne , Doth liue content , not caring ought , how Fortune smile or frowne ,

¶ Mans lyfe likened to a Stage play . SIthe earth is Stage whereon we play our partes , And déedes are déemde according to desartes , Be warie how thou walkst vpon the same , In playing thy parte , thy course vprightly frame . Remember when thy tale is tolde , straight way Another steps on stage his part to playe , To whome thou must resigne thy former state , As one that hath already playde his mate . All welth , pompe , powre , high hap and princely Mace , Must yéelden be to such as shall take place , As things but lente , to play our parts withall , Our méede no more , then our desarts doe fall . Not he that playeth the stateliest parte most praise , Nor he that weares the ryches robe alwaies , But he whose Uertues shall excéede the reast , How so his seate be with the great or least . Take héede therfore , and kepe eche Cue so right , That Heauen for hyre vnto thy lotte may light . With gréedie minde so wrest not worldly gayne , That soule doe spill , for slyding pleasures vayne . Suffised be with that sufficient is , And séeke the things that bring eternall blisse , So shalt thou here not onely purchase prayse , But after eke enioy most happie dayes .

¶ To his Mistresse . MAye name of seruaunt , to familier séeme , For such whose seruice neuer swarude awry : Can Noble mindes so base of those estéeme , That fréely yéelde for them to liue or dye ? No , no , some further fetche conceyued is , Which hath withdrawne from me that wonted name : How so it be , if I be more amisse , Then sounde good will hath once desarued blame . The wrekfull Gods powre downe vpon my hed , Such sharpe reuenge as neuer man did féele : And let my Ghost in Lymbo lowe be led , To Tantals thyrst , or prowde Ixions whéele . What wouldst thou more ? if I not wishe thee well , In Plutos Den , then let me lyue and dwell .

¶ Rewarde doth not alwayes aunswere deserte . SIth my desyre is prest to please , Though not with glosing showe : And eke my deeds if proofe were made , Should tell what fayth I owe . Where to shall I impute my hap , To Fate or wante of skill : When nought I finde but tickle trust , Where most I meane good will .

¶ Who hurte , must heale . THe sparkes of loue within my brest , doe daylie so increase , That euery vain on fyre is set , which none but thou mayst cease . So that in thée consists my woe , in thée likewise my wealth , In thée with spéede to hast my death , in thée to giue me health . O pittie then his restlesse state , that yeeldes him to thy will , Sithe loe in thée it wholy lyes , my life to saue or spill . That neyther doe I glose or faine , I Ioue to witnesse call , Who knows the heat of fixed harts , when they to loue are thrall . And shall I thus a wofull Wight , in rigor still remayne ? Shal such as smale good wil me beare , thy grace from me restrayne Shall false perswation so preuaile , to let our wished ioye ? Shall fayth and troth for their rewarde , reape naught but sharpe annoy ? Or else shal want of pyning welth , retract my iust desier . Do not the Gods at pleasure theirs , the lowe estate raise higher ? Is not the worlde and all therein , at their disposing still ? Doth it not rest in them to giue , and take from whom they will . No recklesse race 〈◊〉 shalt thou runne , ne follow vaine delight , In yéelding help to cure his harme , that holds thée dearst in sight . Ne yet from tip of Fortunes whéele , thou shalt ne slide nor swarue , Such hope I haue of better hap , the Fates do yet resarue . Thy person , not thy pelfé , is all I wishe and craue , Which more I vowe I do estéeme , then heaps of coyne to haue . The greatest Princes aye by proofe , lead not the pleasantst lyfe , Nor euery maide that maryeth welth , becoms the happiest wyfe .

¶ Of Loue . ANd if Loue be Lorde , who or what is he ? If Loue be not , who then bereaues my rest ? If no suche thing , alas what ayleth me ? What bréedes suche broyle , what woundes my yéelding brest ? To tell what t is , doth passe my knowledge farre , But who so loues I sée doth liue in warre .

¶ Of Bayes and Willow . SHewe forth your Bayes that boaste of swéete delightes , For I ne may such blisfull hap attayne : The Willow branche most fit for wofull wightes , Beholde I beare , a badge of secret payne . Which loe my sides enshryne , and shall doe still , Till cruell Fate hath wrought on me her will .

¶ An Epitaph vpon the death of the Lady Katherine , late Countesse of Pembrooke . IF suche doe mourne , whose solace is bereft , And sighs séeme sharpe to those whom sorrowes sting : If cares increase where comforte none is left , And griefs do grow , where pensiue thoughts do spring Then be we sure , our Lorde in sadde annoy , Doth wayle her death , whose lyfe was all his ioy . If he ( alas ) with sobs her losse bemones , May seruaunts spare their sighes abroade to sende ? Shall they in secret shrowde their gryping grones , When maysters playnts may haue no power to ende ? No , no , déepe dole our pensiue sides would pearce . If we in teares our sorrowes not rehearce . Then mourne with me my wofull fellows all , And tryll your teares your drooping chéekes adowne : Gushe forth a gulfe of griefes , let floodes downe fall , To wayle her wante , that sprang of high renowne . Who whyles she liude , did sundry séeke to ayde , But Death , O Death , thou hast them all dismayde . The chéerefull spring that doth eche soyle adourne , With pleasant showes , whereby delight is taken : Doth moue our mindes , alas the more to mourne , Our Ladie lost in source of sorrowes shaken . Which loe in Uer to heauen hath tane the waye , To her great gayne , but oh to our decaye . If Princes loue , if husbands care or Coyne , If Noble friends , if proofe of Phisicks lore : By long attempt could sicknesse vndermoyne , Or search of forrein soyle might health restore . We should not yet haue séene the sonne to vade , Whose clipsed light , hath turnde our shyne to shade . But when the twyste of this our fyme is wownde , No meanes by man may serue the same to stretch : Our lottes are layde , our bodyes haue their bownde , Tyme swiftly runnes with short and curelesse breatch . Though world we weld in seate of Princely sway , Yet swarues our state , as shade that slydes away . The glittering shewes of highest glory héere , Consumes to nought , like clowds disperst with winde : And all that Nature from the earth doth reare , Returnes againe , whence first it came by kinde : But Uertues webbe , which loe this Lady sponne , Shall last for aye , new these her dayes be done . Her praise on earth lyke Palme shal florishe still , Her Noble déedes shall liue and neuer dye : Her sacred steps that sought eche vice to kill , Shall mounte aloft , though lowe in earth she lye . Who euen when latter pangues opprest her most , Did mercy craue in yéelding vp the Ghost . What would you more , her lyfe and death was such , As déeper head could not commend to much .

Ultimum vale . FArewell thou Pearle that Princes fauour founde , Farewell the Saint that shielded our annoy : Farewell the Hauen whose harbor was full sounde , Farewell the Barke that brought her Chiefetaine ioy . Farewell thou Spowse to him that held thee deare , Farewell the Lampe that gaue such gladsome light : Farewell of modest Dames a Mirrour cleare , Farewell the shryne where vertue shyned bright . Farewell thou minde that mente to no wight ill , Farewell the harte that lodged honor aye : Farewell the hande that helpt the needie still ; Farewell the staffe that sought the weake to stay . Loe here in teares my last farewell I take , What Heauens will haue , the earth must needes forsake .

¶ In aduersitie , is best seene Vertues excellency . WHen Boreas rough , had leauelesse left eche frée , And horie Hiems gan his raigne to holde : In walking forth , I might discerne and sée , A stately Palme , her branches gréene vnfolde . At sight whereof , when I a tyme had mused , By malice meanes , I sawe the trée abused . I sawe howe swelling Enuye in the top , Sat shrowded close , embrasing slaunders cup : By whome stoode Hate , aye ready prest to crop , Ech springing spray , so soone as they shot vp . And Flattery eke , did fiske from place to place , By Synons arte , to seeke the Palmes disgrace . As Tennys Ball , yet make the highest bownde , When greatest powre is plaste to presse the same : Or as a Bell sends forth the brimmest sownde , When déepest downe the Ringer plucks the frame . Euen so in sort , this Trée did rise and spring , That Enuye sought by burden low to bring . Which to your vertues may alude right well , Though Malice fainte , to matche you with her might : Yet fewe so sure in these our dayes doe dwell , That Enuye neuer spurnes with déepe dispight . If such then be , or if hereafter shall , The Gods graunt you , as to the Palme doth fall .

¶ Sorrowe disclosed , somewhat eased . SIthe kindled coales close kept , continue longest quick , And secret smarte with greater power , the pensiue minde doth prick . Why should I cloke the griefe , from whence such passions grow , Unlesse my braine by Pen I purge , my brest they ouerflow . When night with quyet pause , eche creature cals to rest , Through quelling cares & pinching thoughts , I lye so sore oprest , That from my setling downe , vntill the tyme I rise , Sléepe hardly wins the force to close , my watchful drooping eies . The Skrich Owle me besides , her dolefull tunes doth shréeke , Whose cryes my cares may represent , that rest in vaine do séeke . To thinke on the mishaps , which daylie me betyde , When surest hope of swéete redresse , I sée away doth slyde . The hardest harte by proofe , doth yéelde an inwarde pante , When good desyres are deprest , by wrack of Irus wante . Wante makes best natures fall , that else would vpright stand : Want makes the valiant faynt in feares , though strong be harte & hand . Want drowns in dollor déepe , the pleasants wits that bée , Want daunts the finste conceited head , and makes it dull we sée . Wante makes the olde wyfe trot , the yong to run outright , Wante makes the noblest hart & mind , to séeme but base in sight . Wante makes the Lyon stowte , a slender pray to léeke , Want plucks the Pecocks plume adown , want makes the mighty méeke Want is the sowrce whence sorrows spring , that hasts the lifes decay , Want loads the hart with heaped cares , that crush al ioys away . Néede hath no lawe some say , extremes , extremes doe vrge , The passions that by want do pain , what phisick wel may purge ? Unhappy is the hower , that such sharp sicknesse brings , And thrise vnhappy is the wretch , whom want so deadly stings . Aye me that such sowre sawce , false Fortune should procure , When slylie forth she séemes to throw , her traine on golden lure . By sleight whereof she doth , a piersing poyson place , Ful closely coucht on pleasant bayte , to worke our more disgrase . As I but lately tryed , who doe her guyle so faste , That secretly I sup the smarte , that my good dayes defaste . The time that I began to enter fyrst to lyfe , Would God the sisters thrée had cut , the thréed with fatall knyfe . Would God that Death had bene , with bowe and arrows bente , To pierce the woful hart of mine , which now with care is spent . Whose hard and crooked fate , increasing euery hower , Doth force me wake when others sléepe , where Fortune doth not lower . And when the dawning daye , I doe perceyue and sée , And how syr Tytan vaunts himselfe , full braue in fyrst degrée , Whose gladsome golden beames , doe moue eche thing to ioye , Saue onely me , whose wrackfull woes , haue wrought my sadde annoy . Then from my couch I créepe , al clad with cloke of care , And forth to walke in desarte woodes , my selfe I doe prepare , Where none but wofull wights , do wandring waile their griefe Where violence doth vengeance take , where neuer comes relief . Where pleasure playes no parte , nor wanton lyfe is ledde , Where daintie lookes no danger makes , nor nice desyre is fedde . Where former ioyes doe vade , and turne to passions strange , Where al delights condemde are shut , in sharp repentance grange Where setled sorrows sits , with head hangde on her brest , And wrings her hands for follies past , her present paines that prest . Where Dolor ruthfull Dame , with sad Dispaire doth dwell , Where Furies fierce doe swarme & flock , not distant farre from Hell . Euen there in dolefull Den , driue forth I doe the day , Whereas my painefull piercing woes , at no time finde delay . Within whose troubled head , such throng of thoughts do rise , That nowe on this , and then on that , in minde I still deuise . Among great thoughts throwne vp , I downe will set the least , How syllie birde in prison pente , tane from the Nurse in neast . Doth ioye in that her lyfe , so much as though she might , From wood to wood , or fielde to fielde , at pleasure take her flight . By whome I learne how man , from Cradle aye brought vp , In base estate that neuer felt the taste of pleasures Cup , Doth holde himselfe so well , content with his degrée , That he in lyfe doth seldome séeke , his state more high to sée . But I as Byrde vnlyke , that flewe in prime her flight , Through gallant groues & fertyle fields , in ioys & swéete delight . Which shall no sooner feele her selfe to be restraynde , From her such wonted libertie as sometime she retaynde , But forthwithall she doth , such inwarde woe conceyue , That yéelding vp her pleasures past , her life therwith doth leaue . When as the byrde in Cage , doth sporting sing and playe , Who neuer found the place wherein , she felt more happy daye . Loe thus the greater oft , are taught by things but small , To knowe what restlesse griefe it bréedes , from fortunes grace to fall . I therfore wishe my lyfe , which all to long doth laste , In symplest sort had euer bene , from tyme to tyme ypaste . So I by custome should , haue likt my present paye , Which now by tast of wrackfull change , in woe do wast awaye .

Omnis fortuna super and a ferendo est . Of sufferanee comes ease . WHo wayles at paine of sorrowes deadly smarte , By wayling much encreaseth sorrowes might : In greatest griefes who shewes the quiets harte , By pacience driues sharpst griefe to spéedy flight . Repine , griefe growes , be still , griefe soone decayes : Suffrance the salue for griefe at all assayes . As Balles if throwne gainst stones do soone rebounde . But fast they stick , if cast they be at durte : So griefs nought harme where yéelding none is found : Once fainte , and then they cause some mortall hurte . By proofe and tryall , this most true we finde , Least hurte by griefe is done to stowtest minde . Pacience and stowtnesse lodged in thy brest , Shall voyde from thence , griefe sorrow and vnrest . A. M. Vt animo , sic amico .

¶ H. His Reply to his friend . A. M. THe helthfull wight , with pleasure well may sing , And courage hie to cheare the sicke may shewe : But if disease his happy state should sting , Those loftie tunes would fainte and fall more lowe . For Turrets tops that séemes to reach the Skyes , By thundring stormes to shieuers smale are shaken , The strongest holde where stowtest Souldiours lyes , Mauger their might , more greater force hath taken . The soundest shyp long tost with tempest , leakes , In Wrastling windes , the hugie Cables fayle : The brasen péece surchargde with powder breakes , And valiant hartes ore whelmde in woe , do quayle . The craggy Clyftes by floodes are fret at length , The hardened stéele obeyes the hammers stroke , The stiffest bow still bente , doth lose his strength , Base Fortunes blowes , all ioy likewise doth choke . How maye he then possesse a quiet minde , That cause of rest doth séelde or neuer finde .

¶ H. to himselfe . WHom desteny shall denye , A happy lyfe to finde : Why should he wayling lye , With pensiue hart and minde . What gaine by mourning got , What lost by little care : When néeds must light to lot , What desteny doth prepare .

¶ Written to a most excellent Booke , full of rare inuention . GOe learned booke , and vnto Pallas sing , Thy pleasant tunes that swéetely sownde to hie For Pan to reache , though Zoylus thée doth sting , And lowre at thy lawde , set nought thereby . Thy makers Muse in spight of enuies chinne , For wise deuise , deserued praise shall winne . Who views thée well , and notes thy course aright , And syftes eche sence that couched is in thée : Must néedes extoll the minde that did thée dight , And wishe the Muse may neuer weary bée . From whence doth flowe such pithe in filed phrase , As worthiest witte may ioy on thée to gase . How much they erre , thy rare euent bewrayes , That stretch their skill the Fates to ouerthrow : And how mans wisedome here in vaine seekes wayes , To shun high powers that sway our states below . Against whose rule , although we striue to runne , What loue foresets , no humaine force may shunne . But all to long , thou hidste so perfite worke , Séest not desyre , how faine she seekes to finde : Thy light but lost , if thou in darknesse lurke ? Then shewe thy selfe and séeme no more vnkinde . Unfolde thy fruite , and spread thy maysters praise , Whose prime of youth , graue déeds of age displaies . Go choyce conceits , Mineruas Mirrour bright , With Rubies ritch yfret , wrought by the wise : Pur●●ed with Pearle , and decked with delight , Where pleasure with profite , both in their guise . Discourse of Louers , and such as solde shéepe , Whose sawes well mixed , shrowds misteries déepe . Goe yet I say with spéede thy charge delyuer , Thou néedst not blushe , nor feare the foyle of blame : The worthy Countesse sée thou follow euer , Tyll Fates doe fayle , maintaine her Noble name . Attend her wyll , if she vouchsafe to call , Stoope to her state , downe flat before her fall . And euer thanke thou him , that fyrst such fruite did frame , By whome thy prayse shall liue , to thy immortall fame .

¶ Where Sorrowe is setled , delyght is banished . THe Sable sadde be wrapped hath my lymmes , ( A sute most fyt for one repleat with griefe . ) Whose strayned hart in sowrce of sorrowe swymmes , Where wrackfull woes at no tyme finde reliefe . Whose foode is feare , whose drinke is dolor déepe , Whose sawce is sighes , whose tast sharpe passions are : Whose rest is ruthe , where sorrowes neuer sléepe , Whose comfort clipsed is with clowds of care . Whose helpe is frozen , whose hap hath hard euente , Whose hope is queld with clogge of colde dispayre : Whose trust is tyerd , whose toyle in vaine is spente , Whose pensiue plaintes but beate the barreyn ayre . Where nought I finde , but drugges of bitter taste , Whose dolefull dayes in darke annoye do waste .

¶ The complainte of a sorrowfull wight , founde languishing in a Forrest . WHen spring in lyuely gréene , eche fielde hath deckt anewe , And strowde the soyle with flowers swéete of sundry kinds of hewe . What time the chéerefull buds , & blossoms braue in fight , Inuites the weary dulled minde , abroad to take delight . Then I by fancie led , a tyme to sporte and play , To Forrest fayre of pleasant ayre , began to take the way . And as I past through out a Ualley fayre and gréene , Where sundrye swéete & rare delights , I earst had heard & séene . All whuste I found it tho , such silence was there kept , As if it midnight then had béene , and all thing sounde had stept . Whereat amazde I stoode , and listning long , might heare , At last a dolefull sounding voyce , with lowe lamenting cheare , In shrubs hard shrowded by , a wofull wight there lay , Whose corps through care & lingering griefe , was welny worne away . Where powring out his plainte he curst the tyme , and when That fyrst on earth he placed was , to lead his lyfe with men . Whose selfeloue séemth so swéete , that friendship yéeldes no tast , And double dealing gaines such price , that plainenesse is displast . Alas , quoth he the Babes , one wombe brought forth and bare . Will nowe obiect , what are we bounde , the one to others care . Whereas good nature bids , go méete thy friends distresse , And beare some parte of his mishap , that he may beare the lesse . If friend to friend thus doe , who faster friend should bee , Then he ( alas ) in thy distresse , that nought will doe for thée . Ah wofull man he sayth , thy lotte hath falne thée so , That sowrce of sorrowes thée besets , with waues of wailful wo. When he where fauour most , thou shouldst by nature finde , Doth causelesse shake thée of in care , & shewes himselfe vnkinde . O wretch in dolor drencht , O minde with mone opprest , O gulfe of griefe , O sea of sighes , that straine the pensiue brest . If wel by Pen thou couldst , thy present passions showe , The harl that hardned nowe remaines , woulde soone relente I knowe . But sith my hap is such , as reape may no redresse , Come forth you Forrest Driads all , your mournefull Tunes expresse . Drawe néere you Satyrs fower , and straine your dolefull cryes , To wayle the woes of him ( alas ) in languor déepe that lyes . Be witnesse woodes and Fields , ye Trées recorde my bale , You Naides eke that haunt the Springs , repeate my wofull tale . And say vnto the wight , that bydes vnfriendly bente , How death would be so swéete to me , as ioy to his contente . For better t were of bothe , then restlesse still remayne , By ending quyte my lothed lyfe , to ende my lingering payne . Here sparing further spéeche , aside he cast his eye , And fynding me , as one dismayde , away he sought to flye . Whose will when I perceaude , to shunne my sight full bente , I to him stept , and askte the cause , that moude him to lamente . Wherto no worde he gaue , but stands like one amazde , And with a strange and gastly looke , long tyme on me he gazde . His face was thinne and leane , his collour dim as leade , His chéeks were wanne , his body weake , his eyes déepe sunck in head . His hart straynde , his minde tost , his wyt with woe nere worne , A rufull thing it was ( alas ) to viewe him so forlorne . With déepe fet sighe from brest , sent forth by inwarde payne , His féeble voice and foltring tongue , he gan at last to strayne . And thus to me he sayde : O what art thou in wo : Me Myser wretche that here dost finde , with griefe perplexed so ? Whose present state to learne , why dost thou thus require ? Smale gayne to thée , great paine to me , to yéelde so thy desire . Yet sithe against my will , thine eares haue heard the plainte , Which in this desarte place I paste , to ease my brest attainte . Thus much at thy request , I further will reueale , As for the rest this corps of mine , for euer shall conceale . Whom earst a friend I founde , me causlesse hath forsaken , What wouldst thou more this is the summe , that I with sighes am shaken . But cruel fate I feare , doth force it so to be , Adue farewell , let this suffice , inquier no more of me . Which saide away he goes , God knoweth a wofull wight , And leaues me there with sorrow fraight , that sought to take delight

¶ Of Fancie . THe kindled sparkes of fyre , that Fancies motions moue , Do force me féele , though I ne sée , nor know not what is loue . Desyre on ruth doth runne , imbracing griefe for game , Whose ioye is like the Flies delight , that fries amid the flame . It yéelds and mercy craues , yet wots not who makes warres , The only thing it sées or knowes , is one that loue preferres ,

¶ Aunswere . YOu loue belike to fréese amid the flame , To wéepe in ioye , to ioy in great distresse : To laugh in teares , to leape and yet be lame , Midst gréeuous myrth & gladsome heauinesse . To sinck in dread , and not to séeke redresse , You Titius lyke doe play this wofull parte , You loue the Grype that tyers vpon your harte .

¶ Euer sought , neuer founde . THe more I striue , the stronger is my thrall , The stronger thrall , the weaker still mine ayde : The weaker ayde , the greater griefe doth fall , The greater griefe , the more with doubt dismayde . Where lyfe I reache , there dollor biddes me die , In swéetest soyle , I straine the greatest Snake : My cares increase , when comfort drawes most nie , From dainty pray , I pearsing poyson take . Still pynde in tolde , I parched am with heate , As fyre I flye , vpon the flame I runne : In swelting gleames , my chylly corps I beate , Congealde to Ice , where shynes the cléerest sunne . Loe thus I lyue , and lyuing thus I dye , Drownde in dispayre , with hope aduaunced hye .

¶ A Poesie . THe valiant minde , by venture gaines the Goale , Whyles fearefull wightes in doubt doe blow the coale .

¶ Aunswere . BUt wary wightes , by wisedome shunne the snare , When venterous minds through hast , are wrapt in care .

¶ Euery thing is as it is taken . SOme onely for disporte , a kinde of myrth doth rayse , For which of some they finde dislyke , of some they purchase prayse . The Tale that some clowte vp , with rude vnciuill sence , Doth more delight the eares of some , then swéetest eloquence . The Foole sometimes doth please , when wise aside are shake , Then true it is that euery thing , is as men liste it take . Who hath by knowledge skyll , of euery foote the length , Or can he always hit the marke , that drawes the greatest strengthe Some carpe at others factes , that nought themselues will vewe , And some by high disdaine doe séeke , to mende Apelles shue . What some in others spurne , themselues would not forsake . But wylie Foxe from lofty Uine , doth vow no grapes to take . A worde paste forth in sporte , to earnest oft doth turne , So where there was no fire before , great flames on sodain burne Not one mans children all , echs Nature is not léeke , But who hath mean to measure wil , shal giue the greater gléeke . First looke then leape , the blind doth run in many a brake , And eche thing still by proofe we sée is as men list it take . Who so doth rule his rage , by wisdoms sacred skill , No doubt shal shunne ful great annoy , that follows rashnes still . And who his tongue can stay , till place and time doe serue , His mind at large may better speake and greater praise deserue . Though friends like friends would shade , the sun beams for thy sake . Yet al things are assuredly , as men them list to take . But al not friends in déede , of friendships bounds that bostes , Take héede , no house may long indure , propt vp which rotten postes . Some rotten are at harte , yet beares a friendly face , And vnder cloke of fawning shews , a Serpents sting th imbrace . T is hard to know of whom we certaine counte may make , For though they smile , yet thee they déeme , as they thée list to take . As they thée list to take , suche shal be their reporte , Malicious minds are euer prest against the vertuous sorte . Be chary in thy choice , least frawde thy faith abuse , Of sundrie sectes embrace the best , the flattering flock refuse . Thus warely runne thy race , eschew the lurcking Snake , Imbrace the good , as for the rest , no force how they thée sake .

¶ To his Lady of her doubtfull aunswere . TWixt death and doubtfulnesse , Twixt paine and pensiuenesse , Twixt Hell and heauynesse , Rests all my carefulnesse . O vaine securitie , That will not libertie , Fye on that fantasie , That brings captiuitie . My lyfe is lothsomnesse , My pleasure pastimelesse , My ende your doubtfulnesse , If you be mercylesse . In doubt is iealoste , Hope helpeth miserie , Most women commonly , Haue aunswers readily .

¶ Helpe best welcome , when most needefull . THe bitter smarte that straines my mated minde , Through quelling cares that threate my woful wrack : Doth prick me on against my wyll I finde , To pleade for grace , or else to pine in lack . As fainting soule sokt vp with sickly paine , Prayeth Phisicks aide in hope of helth againe . Whilste Sea roomes serues , the shipman feares no foyle , In quiet Porte there néedes no Pilotes Arte : But when through wearie winters tyring toyle , Cléere Sommers calmes to carefull clowds conuarte . And streaming stormes at hand do danger threate , Then Masters ayde is sought in perrill great . So I right Noble Péere and Lodestarre mine , Whose Pynnis smale an vpright course hath ronne : In seruice yours , am forced nowe in fine , Mine ancors worne , my sayles and tackling donne , In humblest wise your honors help to craue , My foredriuen ship from swallowing vp to saue . You are the Hauen whereon my hope depends , And I the Barck vpon the drie shore dryuen : You eke the lande that chéerefull Pilotte lends , And I the wight , whom Seas to wrack hath giuen . What resteth then , if Harbour you denye , But that my shyp must perishe , sinck and dye ? For now to late to sownde some other shore , And he that hath and should by nature ayde : Withdrawes his hande , and sayth he may no more , Loe thus alas , I liue lyke one dismayde . Twixte death and doubt , still surgde vpon the sande , Stayde vp by hope to light on fyrmer lande . But oh , O me , where Autumne fruitelesse slydes , A barren hope to Hiems falles by kinde : In Haruest tyme , whose trauaile nought prouydes , A nypping Winter shall be sure to finde . So carelesse youth that wastes his yeares in vaine , In age repents bereft of hope or gaine . As yeares increase , vncertaine hope séemes harde , When sicknesse sharpe hath gathered greatest force : Then Phisicks cure doth séeme a swéete rewarde , Which you may yéelde , if please you take remorse . My stepdame strange , I Fortune yet doe finde , Which makes me more to dread some wrack behind . For where I séeke the depth of hope to sounde , To helpe my selfe , and stay my credite still : To fronte my course , doth crooked hap rebounde . Through such I feare , as euer mente me ill . Or else in state I stande the most accurst , ( If seruice long me shrowde not from the wurst . ) Though some be slowe to reache reliefe at néede , And with delayes the matter will delate : Yet Noble minde then sheweth it selfe in déede , By gyuing strength vnto the weakned state , I séeke no store to lyue and lye at rest , I wishe but ayde in that I am opprest . Which if you graunt , you shall great honor gayne , And eke encourage those of yonger dayes : With chéerefull hope themselues & friends to strayne , To serue a wyght that so his seruaunt stayes . And I releast from wrackfull woes vnrest , Will blase your praise tyll lyfe shall faile my brest .

¶ Of the Golden worlde . THe golden worlde is past sayth some , But nowe say I that worlde is come : Now all things may for Golde be had , For gayne of Golde , both good and bad . Now honour hie for Golde is bought , That earst of greater price was thought . For Golde the Foole alofte doth rise , And ofte is plaste aboue the wise . For Golde the subtile shewe their skill , For Golde the wicked winne their will . For Golde who shunnes to wrest a wrong , And make it séeme as right and strong ? Who spares to pleade as pleaseth thée , If bring thou doe a golden fée ? The Fatherlesse is quyte forgot , Where golden giftes doe fall to lot . Gor Golde the Wyddow is opprest , And rightfull heyres are dispossest . Poore Irus cause at dore doth stande , If Croesus come with Golde in hande . What mischiefe may almost be thought , That now for Golde not daylie wrought ? A heape of ylles for Golde are clokte , Yea vice for Golde hath vertue chokte . For gayne of Golde the Flatterer smyles , And on thée fawnes with sundry wyles . I will not here through golden traps , Say Louers light in Ladies laps . But briefe to bée , what can you craue , That now for Golde you may not haue ? Then truth to tell , and not to fayne , Right now the golden worlde doth raygne .

¶ Of Golde . O Gracious Golde , Whose glittering hie : Doth chéere and holde , Eche gazing eie . The swéete delight , That dwelles in thée : Doth spoyle eche spight , And pouertée . Thou liftes aloft , Who late was lowe : By thée Fooles oft , The wise orethrow . What ioy , what gaine , What worldly thing : Doth want to them , That Golde doe bring ? Golde buyldeth townes , Golde maketh ioy : Gold chéereth clownes , Golde quelth anoy . Golde all can doe , Golde raignes alone : Alas what woe , Where Golde is none . As I poore wight , By proofe doe sée : Which gladly séeke , That will not bée . But well I were , If I might catch , Whyte syluer cléere , Which all men snatch ,

¶ A. W. THe wante of Coyne so grypes my brest , That what to doe I know not best , I trudge , I toyle , I séeke , I sue , But aye good hap bids me adue .

¶ Aunswere . H. IF nipping néede Legittimus constraynde , in hande to grype the heauie Hammer great : With which through wante his Princely corps he paynde . on stythie hard , in Vulcans trade to beat . If he ( I say ) of crowned king the sonne , 〈◊〉 by fate was forste such bitter blastes to bide : Dispaire not thou thy wrackfull race to runne . for welth as shade from eche estate doth slide . Pluck vp thy harte , thy hap not yet so harde , since Princes great haue felt a fall more déepe : King Dionise from regall rule debarde , for his relief a Grammer schoole did kéepe . By which thou mayste thy wandring minde suffise , That Fortunes whéele now vp , now down doth rise .

¶ Of Friends . AS fyre doth fine and seperate Golde from drosse , And shews the pure and perfite from the vyle : Right so is tryde , when nipping stormes doe tosse , A faythfull friend , from such as meane but guyle . Whylste Fortune smyles , and thou no wante dost feele , Of friends no doubt thou shalt haue heaped store , But if she once doe whyrle aside hir whéele , They slinke away , as though vnknowne before . Lyke Doues that leaue the olde and ruynous towre , And flocking flye to buyldings braue and new : So fayned friends , when fortune séemes to lowre , Their flight do take , and bids thée straight adew , Thus he which earst had friends on euery side , Not hauing one , alone doth now abide .

¶ Answere . E. L. IF perfite tryall might as soone be had , Of perfite men , as of the pure Golde : It were not hard to know the good from bad , Their difference soone might easilye then bée tolde . For Fyre lesse than in an houres space , Will finde the fault of Golde , and make it plaine , But men haue meanes to counterfeyt such grace , That they will aske at least a yeare or twaine . And yet at last will not be tryde at all , For some perchance will byde a toutch or two , And will not séeme to flye when you shall fall : But offer you what they and theirs can doe . Yet not so sounde as they should be in déede , But make a meanes to make you serue their néede .

¶ Reply to the same . THat longer tyme the Friend than Golde should trye , I neuer yet denide nor would defende : How fayned friends do fayle , if fate doe wrye , Is totall summe wherto my tale doth tende . For euery thing hath certaine tyme I knowe , The full effect to worke of Natures charge , The tender twig in tyme a trée doth growe , And little Babes in tyme doe proue more large . Some fruite scarce rype , when some doe drop away , Some bloume , some beare according to their kinde , Some soone shoote vp , some longer space doe stay , Eche taketh the time that Nature hath assignde . The Marble stone in time by watery drops Is pierced déepe , and eke in time doth fall , The stately towres with fine and curious tops , For time in time , no doubt tryes all in all . Which triall firste , occasion séekes to make , As fyre by heate the Golde doth fine and pure , In néede likewise occasion men shall take , A friend to try , from such as stande vnsure . But some a time will séeme to stay say you , And after fayle , perceyuing further néede : No doubt you here haue aymde the marke to true , For suche is sure the fruite of subtile séede . These friends are like to one that vndertakes , To runne the race , whereby to gayne the prayse : Who running well , at first , on sodaine slakes , And in the midst his race leaues off and stayes . Not aye doth proue the glorious morning showe The fayrest day , ne all that shines is golde : And therefore friends in déede are harde to knowe , For some a storme or two , like friendship holde . The flowres yet in tyme from wéedes appeare , Whose difference first in spring we scarce discerne , The sunne orecast with clowde in time doth cléere , And eke in time our friends from such we learne . For as one tutch or two no perfite proofe Doth make of friends , no more doth Golde one heate . Yet tyme vs tels who links , who lyes aloofe , Who byrds doth yéelde , and who the bushe doth beate . Wherfore I ende , as Golde by fyre is tryde , So friends by proofe at néedefull tymes are spyde .

¶ Another way . WHen once you haue false fortunes fickle whéele , perceyude with paine , and tryde with troubled toyle : The sound to see , and forged friend to féele , it is not harde , for falshed hath the foyle . If then you finde that Fortune stands your foe , let wisedome welde your wit , and all your wayes : So fayned friends their fayth that doe forgoe , shall be ashamde , and you attaine to prayse . For though the whéele with care do cast you downe , Yet Pallas playes , when Fortune false doth frowne .

¶ To his Friend M. S. IF friendship true be tryde when welth doth fayle , from such as fayne , and flée if fortune dowre : If he a friend that séemes not then to quayle , but séekes to helpe and ayde his friend to powre . My Staplee then a friend thou art in déede , That helps thy friend in time of nipping néede .

¶ In mediocritie , most safetie . AS meane in Musicke soundeth beste , So meane estate liues most in reste . The higher clymde , the fall more déepe , The déeper fall , the doubler paine , Declyning paine doth carefull kéepe , In man eche liuely limme and vaine . Which prooues what change or chaunce doe fall , Contented meane excéedeth all .

¶ To the same . THe high estate is daungerous , The poore degrée is burdenous . The welthie sorte are couetous , The needie soule is dolorous . The youthfull Imps are prodigall . The aged be to riches thrall . The bolder men foolehard ye-call , And fearefull wightes are dastards all . Then yll eschew , embrace things cleane , Well fare the swéete and golden meane .

¶ That valiant hartes are desyrous to aspyre . EChe valiaunt harte and Noble minde , with leftie courage hye : The mightie Mountayne séekes to scale , and lets the Molehill lye .

¶ Aunswere . THe mounting minde that hasts to climbe , when Fortune whirles her wheele : With double dolour is deprest , if downe he chaunce to réele .

¶ Another waye . TO climbe to high must néedes be nought , the feare to fall doth bréede disease : To sinke to lowe brings carefull thought , dispayring payne can neuer please . The golden meane giues quiet rest , Who liues betwene extremes doth best .

¶ To his Friend E. R. of the Bee . WHere as thy minde I sée doth mounte , to buylde thy nest on hye : I thinke it good in meaner sorte , thy wings thou guyde to flye . For loftie trées on Mountayne toppes , with euery blustering blaste Are shaken sore , when trées belowe doe stande both firme and faste . The Bée whose force but féeble is , to Beastes of bigger powre : Hir selfe doth féede with Hony swéete , when greater taste things sowre . Which prooues the meane with minde content , more happy lyfe we sée : Than is to taste the sowre , and sitte in seate of highe degrée . From thorny shrubs and barren soyle , swete sap the Bee doth sucke : When bigger beastes in fertyle Fields , with nipping stormes are stucke . And he within his symple Cell , doth dwell in safety sounde : When such as séeke to sayle aloft , in dole are oft times drounde . Séeke not therefore with troubled minde , at stately porte to riue : But liue content as doth the Bée , within his homely Hiue . So shall thy foode be Honie swéete , though Fortune smile or frowne : And eke in safetie shalt thou sit , when higher tumble downe .

¶ Sure counsell , sounde friendship . OF Louers restles lyues I lyste not wryte , Let learned heads describe their painefull plight , But playne in termes , I wishe thée euen so well , As those that can fine Tales for Louers tell . Whose friendly meaning if thou wilt receaue , Detest disloyall loue , to Uertue cleaue , And séeke by honest meanes thy state to stay , The vertuous lyfe doth syldome bring decay . Counte not the byrds that vndisclosed bée , Waygh words as winde that yéelds no certaintie , For polisht words that déedes doe neuer yéelde , May likened be vnto the barreyn Féelde . Prouyde in youth , thy aged yeares to kéepe , And let fayre spéeche go lulle the fonde a sléepe , Sir Machiauell such cunning nowe hath tought , That wordes séeme swéete when bitter is the thought . Whilst youth , strength , skyll , welth , friends & coyne wil stretch , Thou fayre art borne , by many a guilfull fetch , But if these helpes but once beginne to fainte , Adieu farewell , colde comfort findes complainte . Take héede therefore , retyre in time from those , To serue their turnes , that teach their tongues to glose . Whose golden shews , although do promise much . In proofe fall out but Copper in the touch .

¶ They performe not best , that promise most . WHat holde in hope , or trust to fayre allure , Shée that my swéetest yeares beguylde can tell : By whome I learne there is no way so sure , Ne spéedier meane to guyde a man to hell . Loe , he that liste such fayned hope to prooue , Shall subiect line , and nere raigne ouer loue . The pleasure of her piercing eyes me thought , Should be the lightes that leade to happinesse : Alas I was to bolde , but she more nought , To false suche fayth , and meaning nothing lesse , What heauen is hid in loue , who séekes to sée , Must sue and serue a better Saint than shée . Though tyme hath stayed the rage of my desyre , Yet doth her sight renewe my festred wounde : I cursse she arte that causde me to aspire , In hope of truthe , where no trust could be founde . But tyll my soule shall breake this carefull gayle , Loue may not maystred be , nor I preuayle .

¶ Bewtie the bayte of Vanitie . A Flattering forme hath showes that soone doe passe , And vade away as doth the wythered grasse . The more it hastes to reache the rypest yeares , The more it faylth , and worse the forme apeares . Of pleasant Flowers , the Rose that hath no Péere , The Uiolets freshe , and Lyllies whyte and cléere . Doe not alwayes retaine their hewe and sense , And floorishe still with smell most redolente . So though thou séeme of feature passing all , And bearst the forme and forme as principall , Whose bewtie shewes , hath blasde thy shape in sight , Which thou in Glasse to view , takest great delight . Yet tyme on poollisht forme shall furrows plowe , And wrythed wrinckles péere on blemisht browe . That lothe thou shalte , to note thy changed hewe , And hate thy forme in Mirror bright to viewe . Loe Ladie fayre , that bewtie is but vaine , Experience shewes , when Uertue voyde of staine , Doth florishe freshe , whome if thou doe embrace . The more she growes , the greater is her grace .

¶ Of Fortune . O Fortune false how double are thy déedes , Thy painted Flowres are nought in proofe but wéedes . Who are brought downe , by thy most frowarde frownes , Still subiect liue , and trouble them redownes . To slipper happes annexed are their dayes , To Lyons force , their bodyes are but prayes . What so they winne by meritte or deserte , Is from them rest , by power that doth subuerte . Now welthy men doe tell the wisest tales , And muck is made an equall weyghing schales . No reason yet , but right should be of force , And vertue would that wante should finde remorse . But as the tossed Barke bydes better blysse . And sharpest thrall in tyme released is , And as the féeble Réedes are rente by Seas , Yet spring againe , when swelling waues appease . So hope I will , though now the ebbe be lowe . A spring in time with former course may flowe .

¶ A Sonet . IF wayghtie burthens may be light , Or fayre deniall det requite : If Justice can be termed error , Or drosse for good and perfite treasor . If Maye may be without delyte , Or Snowe of other hewe than whyte , If Cunning can be without skill , Or women without headstrong will , If Pardon where there is no synne , Or Losse where euery man doth winne , If Paradise in Hell you sée , Or sylent whereas women bée . Then shall not Loue be termed hate , Nor lowe degrée the happiest state , But all this must prooue contrarie , And therfore Loue is Loyaltie . Flée it , and it will flée thée , Follow it , and it will follow thée .

¶ To her Louer , that made a conquest of her , and fled , leauing her with childe . AT stryfe to whome I might , commit my secret teares : My heart the Mountaynes sight , and hollow Eccho feares . I doubt the Dryades , amids the Forrest chase , And thinking on the Seas , I dread the Marmayds grace . What shall I trust the Skyes ? then me the windes bewray : Poore soule whom Ioue denyes , eche caytife doth betray . Ha heauy hart , thy méede , O tell , tell out thy minde : Ponder his fylthie déede , that left his shame behinde . And lyke a Cowarde fledde , fearing the chylde vnborne : Whose mother hée should wedde , that hath the Babe forsworne . Was euer Mayde so madde , that might her fayth forgo ? Was euer boy so badde , to vse a mayden so ? His teares did me beguyle , and cleane opprest my powre , As doth the Crocodile , in séeking to deuoure . Howe could I well denie , when needes it must be so : Although a shamefull I , should haue a shamefull no. O faythlesse friend my guylte , that first with guyle began : O foolishe friend that spylte , her mirror on the man . What hath thy Country done , or natiue soyle auoyde : To force thée it to shonne , wherein thy Louer ioyde . No forrein Hauen can hide , ne colour thine intent : If lyfe in Babe abide , that doth thy fault present . And when thy fame hath worne , within th' Italian coste : Thou shalt be laught to scorne , of them that loude thée moste . The Gods will haue a share , in gyuing him his hier : That faythlesse falsly sware , and prooude himselfe a lier . And I thy mortall foe , by fylthie lust beguylde : To wreake me of my woe , will slay thy silly childe . In stead of quiet graue , wherein his corse should rest : Thy Impe his hearse shall haue , in bowels of a beast . My daintie tamed wombe , that to thy share befell : Shal finde no doubt a tombe , amids the mayds in hell .

¶ Being burdened to fayne his good will , he aunswereth thus . IF mine thy little care , if thine my restlesse state , If thine the brunts in brest I beare , of mine to loue or hate . Then trie thou shouldst to true , that falsshood naught did frame : Though now my smarts thou list not rue , but makes my griefe thy game . But out alas I die , this change is nothing so : For I in languishe still doe lye , and fawne on thée my foe . Who smiles to sée my smarte , and laughes when I doe weepe : Regarding naught my faythfull harte , yet from me dost it kéepe . Thus harte to faine vnskilde , in being whole is broke : In health is hurte , aliue is kilde , by dinte of dolors stroke . And being mine , is stolne , and led by lyking lust : Doth leaue the waye of certaine stay , and leane to tickle trust . Thou sayst I doe not loue , would God thou didst not lye : Such fond affects may nothing moue , such one thou sayst as I. The Sages sure were wise , yet forced now and then : By flashing flames of Cupids fyre , to she we themselues like men . Dame Natures force will shewe , what so therfore befall : T is sure my simple state so lowe , thou dost mislike with all . My thoughts doe mounte on hie , though Fortune séeme but base : Whose yeelding walles before thée lye , to reare or downe to rase .

¶ Chaunge of Country , shall not chaunge fancie . TO syfte my fate in forrein soyle , a time though I depart : Yet distaunce none , ne tyme , nor toyle shall pluck from thée my hart . But as I earst vnfaynedly , haue vowde me wholy thyne : So will I stande assuredly , howe ere the worlde enclyne .

¶ Where abilitie fayleth , wyll suffyceth . IF knowledge mine could compasse wylling will , To sounde her fame , so well as déedes deserue : Or if in Uerse by prayse of Poets skill , I able were to wryte what I reserue . Then should my pen put forth what now I holde , And to the worlde her vertues rare vnfolde . But sithe in me such sacred lore doth fayle , I leaue the same to Sophos learned brayne : As one whose bare and naked Muse doth quayle , To vndertake her glory to explayne . Least lack of skill that might in me appéere , Should clipse the light which now doth shine so cléere . A perfite Pearle it selfe doth shewe so well , That naught it néedes a foyle to blase the same : Her prayse lykewise , the rest doth so excell , That finer wittes will spred her Noble name . What should I then vpon her feature stande , Which shewes it selfe lyke sunne against the sande ? Her curious shape , who views and doth not prayse , In Noble minde she second is to none : Not Fortune , but deserts , her fame doth rayse , For Fortune bowes to Uertues loftie throne . ) Where loe she setled sits , in seate so bright , As Hesper cléere with gleames of glittering light .

¶ Mans impietie , faynes false Deitie . LUst long is fayne a God of loue to bée , Whose péeuishe power some déeme is dangerous . A cunning Archer that could neuer sée , Set forth he is , with shaftes right perillous . A wanton winged boy forsooth he is , And Venus sonne , whom she doth clip and kisse . Down from the Heauens he shoots the flaming dartes , That Fancie quickly burnes with quenchlesse fyre : Bereauing Reason quite in all her partes , Preferring wyll with doting fond desyre . Is this a God ? no , no , a Diuell sure , To fylthie lust that doth the weake allure . For Gods to Uertue , not to vices winne , Their powers prouoke to good and not to yll : T is gainst their kinde to foster fylthie sinne , Eche heauenly grace , doth heauenly giftes fulfyll . Then you that fayne Dan Cupide is a God , Recante in tyme , least Ioue reach forth his rod .

¶ In loue smale iarres , sometime breede best content . WHat state more swéete , more pleasant or more hie , Then loues delight , where hartes doe ioyntly ioye ? If vyle suspect , feare and ielosie , With gawling grudge did not the same annoy . Yet where this sowre , with swéete some deale doth blende , Loues perfection oft it doth amende . For thirst the water sauourie makes to séeme , And after fasting , meate is had in price : He knowes not peace , nor can thereof estéeme , That in the warres hath neuer broke the Ice . Hope is reuiude , and shakes of sorrowes past , When seruice long doth reape rewarde at last . Distaunce of Friends maye suffred be with ease , When safe returne exiles eche former feare : The farther of , the more doth méeting please , Things hardly had , obtaynde , are holden déere . Despayre not then , though eyes debarred bée , From that fayre sight , the hart doth howerly sée .

¶ What Nature seuereth , Arte hardly ioyneth . IN fayth doth frozen Ianus double face , Such fauour finde , to match with pleasant Maye : May Horie Hiems now swéete blisse imbrace , Where fertyle Iune by flatte repulse had nay . No surely no , though iealous heades misdéeme , A false vntroth to me they soone doth séeme . For Frost with Fyre may neuer long agrée , And Maye by course ought mayntaine Venus right : When shyuering Ianus doth denie we see , The pleasing sporte that May would most delight . Then iealous slaunder shut thy chaps for shame , Depraue them not , whose deedes are voyde of blame . Since sprinkling showres of swéete Auroraes fludde , In Hiems raigne are dryed vp with colde : Whose Syluer drops bedewes the blowming budde , And makes the fertyle foyle her fruite vnfolde . Who can beléeue ? not I , I vowe in déede , That Ianus olde should gaine such youthfull méede .

¶ He wysheth well to the Crabbe and Maple Tree in Milfeelde , for the Ladies sake that met there vnder them . THe chéerefull byrde that skips from trée to trée , By shilfull choyse doth rooust and rest at night : Although by wing and will he may go frée , Yet there he pearkes , where most he takes delight . As Thrush in thorne , and golden Finch in Fearne , Great byrds in groues , the smale in bushie hedge : The Larke alowe , in loftie trée the Hearne , And some in Fenne , doe shrowde themselues in sedge . So some men bost in Bayes , whose branch they beare , Some Hawthorne , holde , as chiefe of their delight : Some wofull wights , the wrethed Willows weare , Some Roses reach , and some the Lyllies white . Some Plane trée praise , as greet Darius sonne , Whose oft recourse thereto , doth wel expresse , That vertues rife therin this Prince had wonne , To lyke the same aboue the rest I gesse . The Oliander eke , whose Roselike floure , Fayre Polixene so passing well did please : Some lift aloft , and some the Pien pure , Yet trées I know that farre surmounteth these . Not for their daintie fruites , or odoures swéete , Ne yet for sumptuous she we that others yéelde : But for the Ladies sakes , which there did méete , I giue them prayse as chiefest in the fielde . O happy trées , O happy boughes , whose shade I shrouded hath such Noble vertuous wightes : By whom you were , and are a Mirror made , Who of your selues doe yeelde no great delightes . O fertyle ground , in yéelding wise that lends , Such causes great of Ladies perfite ioyes , O blissefull place so fit for faithfull friends , In pleasures ryfe , to rid them from anoyes . What wonder may it he , to those shall heare , In Maple hard , or crooked Crabbe trée sowre : Such sugred talke , such iests , such ioyfull cheare , Such mylde affects , as if t' were Cupids bowre ? Nowe sith these Noble Nimphes ybreathed haue , Upon these plants , in vttering forth their minde : If any séeke their secrecie to craue , High Ioue I pray these trées may she we their kinde . Help Satyrs eke , you Gods that kéepe the wood , The poysoning breath of Boreas rouuh resist : And thou whose syluer drops bedewes eche bud , Refreshe these trées with swéete Auroraes mist. And Ioue if thou in Milféelde shew thy might , Conuert them soone , to fruites of more delight . That Maple may be Mulberie , And Crabbe trëe eke a Medler be .

¶ Being charged with finenesse , he answereth thus . NOt fine good Lady mine , but playne as playne may be : Your curious hed may fiuenesse frame , it longeth not to me . My symple meaning plaine , not carued with mincing stile : Unfayned friendship séekes to shew , deuoyde of frawde or guile . No Gnatos parte I play , ne like Corebus true : By glosing words to séeke to painte , or publishe more than true . My chéefe delight to please , is all which I desire : With nising Nimphes I list not deale , whose lookes aloft aspire . Plaine truthe aye yéelds such trust , as néedes no fined phrase : And my delight hath lesse desire , Dame bewties beames to blase . Whose heasts in harte I holde , and will till time I die : Yet truth might truely match delight , with things that séeme more hie . But needelesse here to tell , What all men sees right well . Where nicenesse fine is fled , Doth vertue spring and spred . Let finenesse then be plaste ▪ Where finenosse is embraste .

¶ Such Saintes , such seruice . THy countnance changde , though clokt in couert sort , Not all things well , long since did make report . Though thou vnkinde , and twise vnkinde againe To me thy friend , wouldst not imparte thy paine . Sée yet at last , how tyme the truth hath tolde , What thou wouldst not , loe time doth here vnfolde . No doubtfull drift whereon demurre dependes . So close is kept , that time not tries and endes . And art thou changde ? doth fansie so perswade ? To heape thy harme , doe secrete flames inuade ? Wilt thou from me so hide thy cause of pine ? Hast thou forgot , I rest still wholy thine ? Where is become thy manly minde , which late Could so dehort thy friend , in fraile estate ? May one so well approou'd in Pallas feelde , By view of symple péece , seeme thus to yeelde . Shall Bussard blinde , thy constant dealing daunt ? Arte thou so fonde with carren Kyte to haunt ? Or wilt thou stoupe , and bend thy selfe to serue , A thanklesse Trull , whose deeds right naught deserue ? Whose peeuishe pride , descries the Pecocks grace , Though she God wot , be farre more vile and base . Naught else but wante of wyt , makes pride presume , The feete well viewd , downe fals the Pecocks plume . Whose owne conceyte , so dimmes her dazeled sight , That deeme she doth for day , the duskishe night . To base she is for thee to lure and call , Though she by lofty lookes would conquer all . Thy foode to fine her fylthy gorge to fill , Of daintie pray to iudge , she hath no skill . By course of kinde , she doth for carren craue , Be rulde by me , her diet let her haue . Doe way the Kyte , that so doth scratch and scowle , My Kéeper kepe hence forth some finer fowle . For looke as vessel aye , yeelds certaine taste Of licoure , such as fyrst therein was plaste . So dunghill byrdes , on dunghill still we finde , To shewe the branch when fyrst they came by kinde . Cast of therfore thy care and changed cheare , Call home thy hart , let woonted plight appeare . Hoyse vp thy sayles , and launch from wrackful shore , Who runnes on rockes , oft brused is full sore .

¶ I follow what flyeth from me . IUie we the fertile trée , but fruite I none may get : Most daintie foode I sée , yet starue for wante of meate . Where drinke stands me before , there greatest drought I take : My thirst encreast the more , when most I would it slake . So hunger stryues to féede , when hap withholds repast , So thirst craues drinke with spéede , when thrall sayth stay a cast . Thus Tantals toyle I trie , against the streame that rowe : As hope would heaue me hié , dispaire doth sinke me lowe .

¶ No griefe to wante of due regarde . WHere sorrow sunck in breast , hath sokt vp euery ioye , What comfort there but cruel care , the source of sharpe anoy ? Adieu delightfull dayes that wretch right well may say , Whose good endeuour made him dreame , till wakt which cold decay . Adieu deluding hope , that lulde thee so on sléepe , As sléepe thy sences so bereaude , that waking yet dost sléepe . Sith all the fruite thou findst , for long imployed paine , Falles out but brakes & brambles sharpe , how mayst thou teares refraine . When ruth is made rewarde , for fayth that fauour sought , What hart can choose but pine away , in plaint & pensiue thought ? And cursse eche practise still , through drift of glosing guiles , That dandled on true meaning minds , by frawde & hellish wiles . To serue their turnes tyll they , vnto the bones are worne , And then on sodaine shake them off , in greatest néede forlorne . Most like the wormes that féede vpon the kernels swéete , Forsaking huske when foode is spente , to perishe vnder féete . So they the hartes of men , doe gnawe in péeces sinale , When youth and coine are both consumde , that leaues them to their thrale . As some by to much proofe , haue tryed all to true , Enforst to bid their golden time , so fruitlesse spent adiewe .

¶ Of Anger . APoyson piercing to the death , A Traytor to the lyfe : A Foe to friendships constancie , a friend to deadly stryfe . Armed agaynst good counsels force , weake in aduersitie : A spoyler of such guiltlesse blood , as is condemde by thée . A troubled wyt , a reaklesse hande , a wrathfull hart to spill : A partiall Judge , a iealous wyfe , where anger hath her will . A wastefull pursse , a greedie Foe , a false suspecting thing : A tickle stay , a prowde disgrace , a cruell Serpents sting . A whip to ease , a rack to rule , a furie to good rest . A black infecting Spring they saye , that poysons man and beast . A hastie heate , a burning flame , a wylde deuouring whelpe : A forcelesse winde , a furie short , and last a silly helpe .

¶ A New yeares gyfte . L LOng may you lyue , and happy yeares enioye , A Among your friends , to staye in blisfull state D Deuoyde of Foes , safe shrowded from annoye . I In all your workes : God graunt you happy fate , K Kindle your care to compasse heauenly things : P Presse downe the worlde , let not his power preuayle . E Estéeme him not , a Syrens song he sings . M Most happy they , where most his flatteries fayle . B Beginne no acte , but fyrst foresée the ende : R Reache forth your hande to helpe the néedie still , O Obserue such rules as may your state defende . O Offence forbeare : feare euer to doe ill . K Knowe God and séeke his holy hests to holde , E Example giue , to make the good more bolde .

¶ Another . L LEt wisedome welde your witte and all your wayes , A Among the best your credite t will enhaunce : D Detest eche Uice , by Uertue purchase prayse , I In Noble moulde , a Noble minde aduaunce . M March on with those gainst frayle desyres that fight , A And gayne the Gole where glorye great doth dwell ▪ R Resist eche wrong , endeuour to doe right , I Imbrace good will of such as wishe you well . S Suspend to déeme the worst , what euer bréede , A And poyse eche poynte before you verdit giue , V Untill you syft the depth of doubts in deede , I It skill shall shewe to let the matter liue . L Last beare in minde as course doth chaunge the yeare , E Euen so all Natures workes in time doe weare .

¶ Another . L LAy downe your Pens , that pen vnworthy prayse , A Aduaunsing Dames which naught may claime by right : D Direct your course a Ladies fame to raise , I In eche respect that well deserues your light . G Grace is a gifte deuyne giuen from aboue , C Cancell the scrowles that others praise pretende : A All writs are voyde that substance none doe proue , V Uertue and blood , this Lady both commende . E Eche perfite good in her doth fyrmely rest , N Noble by byrth , by Nature affable , D Disposed well , all ill she doth detest , I In euery action modest and stable . S Set shape aside , where Uertue hath no place , H Here shape and Uertue both are ioynde in Grace .

¶ Another . T TYme and trust doth trie both weake and sure , O O blisfull hap that trust in time maye reache : T The patients paine which sicknesse doth procure , H Hath health or onde , at last to be his leache . E Effects ( alas ) I see doe fall out harde , L Lost labor reapes the crop of lyngering griefe , A And friendships force , through falshoode is debarde . D Despite denies deserte to reache reliefe , I I sée some smyle as they wers gyrte with gladnesse , S Stayde vp by hope , though ●●●ncht in deepe dispayre : P Preferring sporte , but daunted downe with sadnesse . E Enioying nought , yet faine to flye in th' ayre . K Kept farre from you ( God graunt ) all such almoye , E Embraste to be with them that lyue in ioye .

¶ An Epitaph . WHat hydes this hearse but quiet silente reste , The surest ende of his vncertayne time : Whome neyther sworde , nor fyre , nor age opprest , But to his Ghost gaue way , in haste to clime Aloft , loe here the iustice of such fatall breath , To haue a God the author of his death ? Fayth and good nature , honor death and ryse , The Noble harte procureth fauour moste , These markes , these flowres of his age are ryse , Wherein both soule and sh●●●e may iustly boste . Where his desyres lodge , the Gods can tell , Here lyeth the corse that liued and died so well .

¶ A Dreame . TO clime the high and hauty hyll , Where Poets preace for praise by skyll , I list no labour waste : The water Nimphes I neuer vewde , Nor Ladies of the Lake persewde , That poore Acteon chaste : King Arthurs Knights long since are fled , In force that did excell , And all those Ladies nowe lye dead , Whose lyues olde Poets tell . Reuealing , their dealing , I purpose not to wryte : But dreaming , a straunge thing Loe héere I doe recyte . A fayre Pauillion finely pight , In sléepe appeared in my sight . Amidst whereof in gréene and white , The Goddesse sate of all delight , Be set about with Ladies true , Which did to her such seruice due . As fewe I déeme , the like hath séene . I done to any earthly Quéene . Her Nimphes all they were , Of such comely théere , Helens face , may giue place , Where they appéere . THese Ladies on this Goddesse bright , Attendance gaue both daye and night , To worke what she would will : Some sitting héere , some standing there , As for the tyme they placed were , According to their skill : For Venus then in Maiestie , Me thought at Banket sate , Attended on most curiously , As best beséemde her state , Some seruing , Some caruing , In Office as they stoode , Some playing , Some singing , With glad and chéerefull moode . That sure me thought in Heauen I was , To sée this sight it so did passe , But at the last , this Banket past , Of Suters then a Noble route There did appeare , with drooping cheare , Beséeching Venus them to heare , Who straight enclynde , with wylling mynde To peise the playntes that eche put out . Where withall knéelde downe , A wight of renowne , Who cryde thus , O Venus , Let fate cease to frowne . HAue pyttie on her painefull plight , Whose lyfe is led without dellight , In sighes and sorrows still : My youth saide she with age I waste , For wealth my Parents me so plaste , God knoweth against my will . With that another stept in place , And craude with wayling voyce , O Noble Goddesse of thy grace , Graunt me my wished choyce . Thus séeking , Dame liking , They call on Venus hie : Still suing , renewing , Their plaintes with watry eie . Some out doe crie on ielousie , And some of great vncourtesie , With teares complaine , that finde disdaine Where they haue loued faythfully . Another sorte , doe eke resorte , Exclayming lowde on false reporte , Whereby their fame , and Noble name Without desert , oft brute doth blame . And some Ladies say , Their Lords runne astray , Whose wanting , and scanting Oft works their decay . AS thus in course eche made his plainte , I wofull wretch through loue attainte , In prease my selfe did vaunte : And vnto Venus as I thought , I hasted fast , and her besought , My Ladies loue to graunte . But out alas , euen therewithall A sodaine thundring noise : As heauen and earth should faile and fall , My sprites from sléepe did raise . Then waking , hart aking , I languisht lay in wo , Bewayling , the fayling , Of wyshed purpose so . And to my selfe loe thus I saide , What straunged sight hath me dismaide . May Uisions rare , or dreames declare . Such sodaine change from ioy to care . From great delight , such moning cheare , May Goddesses abide to heare ? No , no , naught else but fansie sure , My yéelding harte doth lead and lure . Aye the wight to minde , Where loue doth me binde , Whose seruaunt , attendant The Gods me assignde .

¶ Loue asketh loue . I Sawe of late a wofull wight , That wyllow twigges did winde to weare : Whose face declarde the pensife plight , Which he through loue did present beare . He lookte aloft as though he would Haue clymed to the starry skies , But still he stood as though he could Not once lift vp his heauie thies . His feathered hands he forced forth , And thyther fayne he would haue fledde , But wofull man it was no worth , For all his limmes were lade with ledde . You are the bright and starrie skye , I am the man in painefull plight : My limmes are lade I cannot flye , My wings may not sustaine my weight . I reade howe loue did Gismond wounde , The childe of Tancred Salerne king : Her fauour Guistarde constante founde , She fancied else no other thing , For riches nought , nor for his wealth , Whereof he had but little store , His vertue was her onely health , She likte that well , she sought no more , They had their hoped hap and ioye , If Tancred could contente him so , But he by working their annoye , Unto himselfe brought greatest wo. You are that Gismond fayre and bright ; Would I had Guistards vertuous life , And Tancred chast cleane out of sight , Then would I wyshe for such a wife . Some saye howe Luna loued one , Of lowe estate and little fame , By name yclipt Endimion , Whose loue was quite deuoyde of blame . In Laëmi hill it thus befell , She sawe him sit all sadde alone , T is I ( quoth she ) I knowe full well , For whom he mournes and makes his mone . She shamed not of Laëmi hill , Nor yet of Louers simple state , But soone consentes vnto his will , And him did choose to be her mate . O Luna looke vpon thy Loue , Endimion makes his mone to thee : Be not abasht , let pittie moue , That loue for loue may yeelden bee .

¶ The variable thoughts of a Louer . I Liue in hope and yet despayre , Reioysing most when griefe doth growe : I mounte aloft aboue the ayre , Yet lead my life in Limbo lowe . I neuer séeke , though much I finde , Yet finde I nought and still doe séeke : I sée what best contents my minde , When most in minde I doe misléeke . One holdes me in captiuitie , So sure that I ne once may swerue : Albeit I liue at libertie , As frée from bands that I deserue .

R. T. THe shyp that late I sawe beare loftie sayle , Déepe lanched in the waues of waters wilde : Whose courage stowte I déemde no storme might quayle , When I her viewde so fast and fyrmely fielde . With tempest tost , is forst now sayle to stréeke , And in her prime doth houering harbour séeke .

¶ Aunswere . THough streaming stormes , force ship to harbor haste , To whom the Seas with rigor great threates wrack : Whose cables cut , and ankers worne to waste , Is forste streeke sayle in her so great a lack . When Neptune yet with Septer plaste in hande , Shall calme the furious rigour of the Flood : This Shyp repayrde , may safely sayle to lande , Nought dreading Eolus breth , that her withstood . So H. doth hope his Howlke such porte shall finde , When stormes be past , as will content his minde .

¶ Another waye . LEt none mislike a man for his mishap , But thinke how chance doth check the greatest might : Aeneas he , Vlisses worthy wight , By lande and seas , did danger great entrap , None for deserts are luide in Fortunes lap . Chaunce roules vs rounde , and reaks ne wrong nor right , Ne lewde is he on whom lewde luck doth light . Was not Iobe iust , though sokte in sorrowes lap . They erre that déeme all goes as men deserue , At length Aeneas ranne his weary race : Vlisses eke and Iobe , God did preserue , So I poore wretch whom Fortune doth disgrace , Do hope thylke God will guyde my crased barge , Which beates the seas , whilst none of her takes charge .

B. ¶ Godlynesse passeth ryches . THe slender store that verteous wights possesse , More worth then is the wickeds great excesse . Yet strange to see what soyle some worldlings take , For ryches vaine , that soone will them forsake . Whose gréedie guttes , no reason may suffice , The muck on moulde so blinded hath their eyes .

¶ His aunswere to one that wrote , faynte hartes that feare to synne , fayre Ladyes syldome winne . HE much more valiaunt is , whose steps are slow to sinne : Then who so séekes vnlawfull meanes , his Ladies loue to winne . And greater prayse deserues , his will that can subdue : Than thou which boldly brags , to gaine the thing thou well mayst rue . A pleasure short thou séekst , procuring lasting paine : A poyson swéete thou dost imbrace , that sundry wightes haue slaine . A dore that lets in Death , a scourge that whips the soule : A vice that Uertue ouerthrowes , who doth it not controule . A flame of burning fyre , that reaues all reasons rules : A gulfe of foule desire , that oft makes wise men fooles .

¶ To I. N. GOod wyll put forth my Pen in haste , and made me bolde to craue : And Loue lay on me sore to seeke , that I suppose you haue , Pleasure drew forth my doubtfull care , and helde my hande aright : And Use transported like a guyde , the vaine desyre I wright . Hope flattered so these troubled thoughtes , that comforte of the paine : Would force me to appose thy 〈◊〉 , with fansies of the braine . Slowe of it selfe my little skill , but that thy truth profest : Will pardon bothe my light offence , and graunt this póore request . To tell if ayre maye alter gréefe , or where like luck betide : Thy selfe , that vnder Country Hauens , doste seeke thy selfe to hide , And if loue bée , what thing it is , if not , what moues my paine : Good Nedham wryte , or come in haste , and I shall wryte againe .

¶ H. To his mishap . THe Gallie slaue that stirres the fléeting Ore , In foming Seas , to cut the mounting waue : With heauie chéere doth wish the gladsome shore , In hope that ende his thraldome then shall haue . Or else doth hope amidst his pyning wo , That ship will sinke , and ende his trauell so . The sickly wight whom Feuers pinche full sore , With gasping breath , and panting hart in bed : And yéelds himselfe content with Natures lore , Reuoltes againe , who was by hope misled , If vitall breath yet chaunce to fayle him than , Now past his paine , becomes a happy man . An ende of woes these séelie folke obtayne , An ende of thrals at length by ●●●●●●es they finde : Deuoyde of cares , and I as wretch remayne , To whom aliue the Gods aboue assignde . That lyuing yet , a thousande times should dye . And long time dead , vnburied yet should lye .

¶ Falsyfying of Fayth , breedes many complaynts . MY idle head retaynes the busie hope , My gasing eye giues ouer her desyre : My reaching hand would after fauor grope , My legs yéelde vp and leaue me in the myre . T is light t'outrunne , but not to outread the wise , Thus finde I strife to hinder my deuise . The time too shorte , to weare so spéedie gréefe , I still pursue , that shunnes my wylling holde : Skill is to weake to yéelde my woe reléefe , My cares lyke clowds , infect my hart with colde . So that if heat should melt so cruell frost , My heart were drownde , and all the loue were lost . Betwéene two Adamants of equall weyght , I am the péece of yron to beholde : Wythout desert , loe I am made the baight , Denide the ioy that my desyres wolde . My taste of loue , is lost as you may gesse , That know how Sickmen sauour bitternesse . Who would his will , must beare the bitter lot , The Faucons foote distraynth the Princes hande : When loue was made , his eyes were quite forgot , The highest towers in greatest danger stande . O slipper holde , that for a silly eye , Can finde no peace , but euer séekes to die . Die , and doe all the wretched traine of loue , To know the torment of my boyling smarte : Her might on me pore man she ment to prooue , Whom I had thought , should heale my wounded harte . O cruell penance to my pore desyre , In such great heat to bring me to the fyre .

¶ To his Song , sent to his Mistresse . SOng in the swéete place , Where as my Ladie was walking . Thinke if thou shouldst stande , She would reach outher hande , wylling . Touch not her tendernesse , Stoupe to her statelinesse , hie thée . Spirite without carkesse , Mercurie bodilesse , ply thée . Tell her I will come , Knowing not howe soone , spéede well . Loue may no let haue , This is all I craue , farewell .

¶ A Poesie . THe streaming stormes , that fast on me doe flowe , The secrete sighes , that waste my wofull breast : The Isie colde I feele like flakes of Snowe , The hidden harmes that bréede my great vnteast . By Fancies force doe cause such troublous tyde , That shyp nowe shakes , which late in roade did ryde .

¶ Aunswere . WHere reason rules , affections fonde doe flye , And bewties beames 〈◊〉 bittirnesse may bréede : Where wisdome will , by vertues skill doth lye , Cupidos flames are quenched forth with spéede . Let reason then thy will by wisedome guyde , So shalt thou safely shunne this stormie tyde .

¶ The vanitie of rytches . THe stately Pallace Princely plasse , the hoorde of glyttering Golde : The Patrimony large of landes , cannot from sicknesse holde . Nor can they cure the crased corps , or deck the minde at all : Golde is the Father to the Flock , of Flatterers by lotte : It is the summe of griefe or woe , who hath , or hath it not . For who it hath , he quakth in feare , least Fortune robbe his thrifte : Who hath it not , laments because , he knowes not how to shifte . Wherfore of ritch or poore I iudge , as wisedome smale I hente : In best estate is he , with his that liues with minde content .

¶ Discorde makes weake , what concorde left strong . THe quyet pawse that silente night , Doth bring from trauayles past : Of daye no sooner had by sleight , A nuumber on me cast . But in my sléepe there did appeare , Sixe sauadge men in mosse and haire . A Fagot bounde the foremost wight , Me thought in hande did beare : Which ioyntly and alone through might , All sought to breake and teare , Yet still in vaine their strength they tryde , Eche parte to other was so tyde . Till wresting long , a stick at last , One forth by sleight doth wring , Whereby the Bundell knitte so fast , A sunder soone they fling . Then eche a seuerde péece doth spoyle , Which late conioynde , no force could foyle . This done me séemde they vanishte quite , And there my Dreame did ende : Yet so amazed with the sight , That out a sighe I sende . I curst the frawde that friends defast , Whose broken bande eche harme doth hast . The wrack of Realmes hereby is wrought , The force of Foes increast : The spoyle of famous Princes sought , And right by wrong supprest . Foule fall therefore the guyde of those , That friendships bande doe séeke to lose . And happy they that doe restraine , Their eares to heare when Syrens faine .

¶ Of one that came to borrow money . IN loane what losse , I want and would , Two Gods I bring to entreate for Golde , Perswasion may procure the thing , That force would vndertake to bring .

¶ Aunswere . THe losse of Friends by bringing home againe , Such Interest I séeke not so to gleane , Two Goddesses to match your Gods there be , Inopie and Impossibilitie .

¶ Truth feareth no tryall . THe Muses calde a Courte of late , Wherein they déemde of sundry déedes : To scan eche cause in seate they sate , The summond péere and law procéedes , The truth they sought of all mens harts , And déemde of eche by his desarts . So some were saude , and some I sawe , Condemde to dye by Justice might : Among the which by course of lawe Approcht to barre a worthy wight , Whome festred Enuy sought to spoyle , By forged lyes his fayth to foyle . Upon whose talke he was araynde , Holde vp thy hande quoth Doubt by name , Thou art accused to haue staynde Thy credite , and thy fayth with shame . And briefe to be , by verdite iuste , Condemde thou art for thine vntruste . To whom the Captiue gan reply , I graunt if this be prooued true : That I well worthy am to dye , And here I craue no more of you . But perfite triall of my case , ( The guiltie onely pleads for grace . ) A Queste was then impanelde newe , And his accusers calde in sight : Suspition did the sute pursue , He was indited by Despite . The Muses nowe with all the rest , Made Conscience foreman of the quest. Wherewith Suspition fled for feare , Despite durst not maintaine his sute , The cause was calde , the captiue cleare , Thus did the last , the fyrst confute . And he that earst should néedes haue dide , No trespasse made , when truth was tride . Loe thus beholde , the guyltlesse wight , Had Conscience not bene present tho : Through false report and déepe despight , Condemde had béene to death to go . By which you well may learne and sée , The faultlesse ofte condemned bée . Let pittie therfore moue your minde , To stay your doome till truth be tryde : So you by search shall easily finde , That I from truth did neuer slyde . As tyme by triall shall declare , I aske no more , so spoyle or spare .

¶ He complayneth his mishap , with promise to keepe her honor . THe wandring Outlaw borne to woe , and bred a banisht man : Untaught the suttle sleights of loue , of loue this tale began . When fyrst my sences dranke the swéete , that gaue my body blood : I felt no Foe to let my loue , nor God against my good . Tyll luste misreckned my delightes , my wandring ioyes to ende : And founde her out to stay such toyes , to stande my trustie friende . I boast the graunt if all were giuen , it may , would God it might : O happie man , more happie mayde , if all had hit aright . Mishap withholdes no meane to hope , to purchase my pretence : Beautie me rauisht first , and now renength without offence . Thus like a childe agayne , vntaught the sleightes of dayntie mindes : Such nurture take I of my Nurse , as Nature iustly bindes . These sides enshrine her stately loue , if other thoughts she haue : She shall possesse that I professe , and yet her honor saue .

¶ G. To his Ladye . I Sée in loue some farther fetch there is , Than reason can reueale to me that would : Accuse the cause that makes me think amis , And finde the fault of such vntempred mould . Of sundry workes doe diuers wonders growe , Yet skill shewes why , and how they should be so . I sée the Sunne both moue , and melt , and chaunge , At once both dry and dew the dustie sande : Yet are the raging stormes of loue so straunge , As I forbeare the cause to vnderstande . Except I should impute it to the wurst , And curse the kinde that neuer Louer durst . I sée the starre that guydes my stirring loue , The goodly Saint that sacrifice deserues : Sometime I sayle , and sinke for feare to prooue , And oft my solemne obsequies reserue . Yet but for loue her passing giftes deuine , Nature had neuer made them halfe so fine . I sée the secrets of my wofull eyes , Must seeke to rest on no such perfitnesse : Would they had kept her still aboue the skyes , Where first she tooke alluring comlynesse , But sith her shape no mortall man may craue , Yéelde honor such as fittes her best to haue .

¶ For finale offence , smale punishment . MY Lady giues the reyne to her despite , And lightly she beléeues what others fayne : With death she vowes my seruice to requite , And payes me not with like good will againe , So that she séekes to trusse vp my good will , With trusting those that euer ment me ill . The murdring Knyfe for my offencelesse crime , I see preparde to gore my guyltlesse blood : The cruell voyce of rough condemning rime , Hath scapte her mouth , and maye not be withstood , Yet let her date my death with this one line , Here lyeth my Seruant buryed in his Shrine . If mercie fayle , there is no other charme , If that preuayle , vngracious luck farewell : My guiltlesse trespasse shall escape the harme , That enuye wisht on me to haue befell . Of my estate , let her say yea , or nay , I most regarde her doome for to obay . From heauen the grace of gentle minds descends , And like the maker should the matter bée : Then let my Mistres when she wrath pretends , Affects of mercie in the Gods fore see , And when she graunts to follow them in that , Let her recure and pardon she knowes what .

¶ Loues myghtinesse growes by Louers weaknesse . IF power of warre had yéelded to renowne , Of curteous hartes , the Gods had then agréede : Disgraded Saturne had not tumbled downe , Nor loue had durst in Goldlike Artes proceede . O cowardly Gods against your kinde to sée , Your selues , your sonnes , the slaues of loue to bée . Could loue take league with Ioue against his will , Or staine the streame of Neptunes water Springs : And could not Pluto kéepe his honor still , But giue the Heauens and Hilles to other kings ? In faith the face amongst swéete soules should dwell , That conquered these , in spite of powers in Hell .

¶ A comparison of his troubles . GReat swelling floodes are soone dried vp , with meaner calmes I sée : And mightie Frostes , with gentle heate are woont dissolude to bée . The darkest clowdes in th' ayre tost , depart with no great winde : Yet can the tempest of my care , no quyet harbor finde .

¶ I. K. to H. being sicke . THe sickly state , thou griped art withall , When brute had blowne and sounded to mine eare : From eare to heart , the sodaine noyse did fall , And there begins to change my choise of my cheare . For choyce is past , néedes must I match with mone , When hope is crackt , what comfort may endure ? The best parte eke of me , to gréefe is gone . Scant then the partes beside , may well be sure , Yet feare not H. quayle not , be of good cheare , Thy Kéeper bids thée haue a hardy harte : Be lyke a man , the weather will be cleare , If not for thée , yet cause not me to smarte . So being bolde in thine extremitie , Thou shalt saue two , that is both thée and me .

¶ Aunswere H. THe plunged state wherein I restlesse lay , When these thy lynes were brought before my view : A certaine tyme began to cease and stay : And still mée thought my pinching paine withdrew , To beare from thée , such comfort did ensue , But when at last , I learned had thy gréese , My comfort fledde , bereft was all reléefe . And then a newe my crased corps in paine , Lay languisht long , not knowing what were best , A thousand thoughts within my troubled braine So mooude my minde , that vnneth could I rest , The slypping ioyes that worldly wights possest ▪ Loe then I sawe , full soone awaye did slide , And nothing was , that still might stande or bide . No Forte so strong , no Bulwarke raysde so sure , But tyme consumes and tumbleth downe at last : Mannes force is frayle , and lyke the féeble flowre , That bendes and breaks with euery little blast , His dangers great , his pleasures soone surpast , As now by me appeares , whose ioyes doe vade , Whose griefe doth grow , whose comfort glides to glade . Whose lyfe lyke smoke , doth slylie slynck awaye , Whose Rock is réelde , whose fatall thréed is spunne , Whose dreame doth ende , whose slumbring sléepe doth staye , Whose web is wouen , whose Glasse is welnie runne , Whose parte is playde , whose tale is tolde and done , Whose will doth yéelde to leaue this wretched vale , Where naught is sure , but driry Death most pale .

¶ Of Friendship . WHo holds himselfe most deare , and hath his wante , Although he would , he may not store his friend : But he that séekes his secrets there to plante , Where wealth is frée , shall finde a quyet ende . Giue me the poorest man to triumph on , Or welthiest friend , or let me liue alone .

¶ Aunswere . G. H. GJue me the equall friend , for greater state Will euer grudge the wante of lowe degrée , And eke the meane repine at welthier mate , Thus enuy breakes what friendship did decrée . By iuste agréeing porte no iarre doth grow , Where wealth ne wante denies the friendly show .

¶ H. To M. THe crased Barke full oft is saued by Pylots care , The greatest griefes by pleasant ioyes asswaged are . The daylie toyles by some quiet rest are alwayes eased , The vering spirites by Musike sweete , séeme somewhat pleased , My onely ioy regarde you this my wofull case , Sith none but your disdaine , my sorrow can delace .

¶ Admonition to his Friend . IF thou wilte be rightfull , Alwayes stande thou faythfull . To doe well be carefull , Note friends and be thankfull . Uaine talke flye and learne wit , Marke wise speeche and loue it . Alwayes praye , and boast not , Eschue pride , and vaunte not . Hate no man , disdaine not , Take time and sléepe not . Eche vertue trayne iustly , Regarde betters wisely . Offend no wight wrongly , And declare alwayes truely . So God sure will loue thée , And good men will praise thée . When Uertue shall grace thee , All fame shall embrace thée .

¶ Who seekes this Worlds felicitie , Fyndes nothing else but vanitie . WHo séekes on earth to finde , his Mansion sure to dwell , Forsakes his God , forgets his heauen , & hies him fast to hell . For why no flesh hath force , eternitie to finde , But as of Clay it came , to Clay it must conuert by kinde . If Bewtie blynde thine eyes , or Coyne it be thou craue , Be sure therof they clogge thy soule , when carcasse comes to graue . Not strength , not honors stage , nor Empire helde alone , But conscience cléere must only serue , before the heauenly throne acounts . Suppose before thy Prince , thy onely tale surmounts , Tryumph not thou , for th' angels trumpe , calles thée to more More pleasure here thou takes , in toyes on earth below , More féeble thou , more force is theirs , to yéelde thine ouerthrow . No comfort doe conceaue , in vaine and tryflying toyes , No minutes myrth can counteruayle , aye during deepe annoyes . On earth the force of flood , and flame thou doest desyre To shun , then chiefely séeke to auoyde , the force of endlesse fyre . On earth thou doest desyre , delights that be but vayne , In heauen the whylst thou dost neglecte , the ioy that shall remayne . Then dye on earth to liue , and liue on earth to dye , Repose thy trust in heauenly things , and ioy eternallye .

¶ To a Flatterer . AS soundes from hollow things , d ee nought but ayre implie : So words from faythlesse friends , shewe nought but flatterie .

¶ Aunswere . CAlme Seas least feared bée , more daunger when they swell : Yet in all Tydes we sée , they vse to sounde them well .

¶ Reason and Fansie doe often varie . THere Fransie bids vs runne , and Reason staye , And presse our powres , that frayltie nought preuayle : Affection blinde doth beare so great a swaye , That we in greatest danger hoyse vp sayle . We burne our selues , and yet doe blowe the fyer , And trust the ayde that leaues vs in the myer . Desyre assayes with Fansies winges to flye , When hap with holdes , to yéelde our will successe : Hope would aduaunce it selfe vnto the skye , Despayre sinkes downe , and sits in sad distresse . Desyre , dispayre , hope , hap , by fansie prest , Thus ioyne their battayle in affections brest . Reason resistes , vayne hope , hopes Lead will swymme , Wyt would preuayle , affection will not yéelde : Desyre with Frayltie ventures lyfe and lymme , Inforcing Reason to forsake the fielde . And thus with Fancies lore our reason ledde , In Follies brake , we oft bring fooles to bedde . Looke ere you leape , beware least footing fayle , Example take by poore Acteons fall : We thinke that pretie fansie may preuayle , And therfore listen to his luring call . But when most gréedie Dogs doe vs deuour , Fancie stands aloofe , not able to succour . A little bewhing Curre doth oft procure , Assault of greater Dogs , as doth appeare , So while we rashely yéelde to Fansies lure , More eger Curres are readie vs to teare . Our owne desyre , affection , lust , and will , Are those same Dogs which doe their maysters kill . Yet neyther counsayle , wisedome , sence , nor arte , Can brydle youth from his desyred ioye : Graue precepts haue no power to staye his harte , From working of his owne extreme annoye : And though our selues doe know such things are vayne , Yet doe we séeke the selfe same things to gayne . What madnesse thus to stryue against all sence ? To sue , where Reason would we should refrayne : Against all counsayle thus to make pretence , And voyde of wisedome so to beate our brayne , To buye repentance with so déepe desyre , And with such heate to set our thrift on fyre . And yet no helpe , when Fansie freightes our boate , But Follyes force , perforce will hoyse vp sayle : Till midst the waues of had I wist we floate , We thinke our pleasant course should neuer fayle . Unlesse Gods speciall grace doe make a stay , Our nature weake thus works her owne decay .

¶ A Poesie . SIth nothing stayes in good or happy state , Where Uice aboundes and Uertue doth abate : Why doe we not our lyues with spéede reforme ? That Conscience cléere may féele no gnawing worme .

¶ Certaine Verses translated out of Petrark , concerning Rome , written by him many yeares since . A Flame from Heauen streame downe vpon thy head Thou wicked one , that from the water colde , And Acornes wilde , ( that whilom was thy bread ) Arte mightie made , enrichte by others Golde . Since thy delight is setled all on ill , Shame thée destroy , and sorrow soone thée spill . Thou Nest in whome the treasons hatched are , That through the worlde abroad are spred this hower : Slaue to Wine , chambring and delicious fare , Where Lust doth trye the strength of all her power . In Closets thine , yong gyrles and aged Siers , With Belzabub doe daunce in foule desiers . He Bellowes , Fyre , and looking Glasse doth beare , Amidst them all , but why I blushe to tell : Naked to wyndes , and bare foote late thou were , No beddes of Downe vnto thy share befell . Course clothes did serue thy corps from colde to shrowde , Scarce God thy péere , thou now art growne so prowde . Thou Babilon that buyldes thy Neast so hye , By couetous frawde thy sack to brimme dost fill , With Gods great wrath and vices out that flye : Whose poysning smell a worlde of soules doe kill . Gods to thy selfe thou makst , not Ioue nor Pallas , In Venus and Bacchus is all thy solace . In searching long , what should of thée ensue , My selfe with toyle I féeble brought and lowe : But at the length mée séemde a Soldan newe , I sawe preparde to worke thy ouerthrowe . That will erect Baldacco seat for those , Which ( though not when I would ) shall thée depose . Thy Idols on the grounde shall scattered lye , Thy Towers prowde to heauen that enimies bée : And Turrets all by fyre downe shall flye , Then shall iust soules the friends of vertue , sée The golden worlde a newe beginne to raigne , And auncient works shew forth themselues againe . Thou sorrowes source , the sinke of many a one , Thou Schole and Temple whence all errors growe : Once Rome , but nowe that cruell Babilon , For whom the worlde in teares doth ouerflowe , ▪ Exclayming on thy cursed wickednesse , ▪ Bewrapped in the vayle of holynesse . O Forge of false deceyte , prison to yre , Where goodnesse dyeth , and euils all are bredde : To those that liue , thou art a hellish fyre , ▪ The ruine eke of many wretches deade . A wonder straunge though spared thou be yet , If Christ in fine not treade thée vnder feete . Thy ground was fyrst on humble pouertie , But nowe thy pride doth presse thy Founders downe : Thou shamelesse strumpet seeking suffraintie , Where rests thy hope ? what in thy triple crowne ? In thy adulteries or base borne rytches Begotte in guile ? vaine are all such wytches . Since Constantine may nowe returne no more , The mournefull worlde that sighes thy state to sée : Consume and cut thée quick vnto the core , That all to long is forst to beare with thée . ▪ Of Rome the fall , here Petrark doth vnfolde ▪ ▪ As view they may , that list the same beholde .

In patientia victoria . FINIS .