Willobie his Auisa. Or the true picture of a modest maid, and of a chast and constant wife In hexamiter verse. The like argument wherof, was neuer hereto fore published. Read the preface to the reader before you enter farther.

WILLOBIE HIS AVISA . OR . The true Picture of a modest Maid , and of a chast and constant wife .

In Hexamiter verse . The like argument wherof , was neuer heretofore published .

Read the preface to the Reader before you enter farther .

A vertuous woman is the crowne of her husband , but she that maketh him ashamed , is as corruption in his bones . Prouerb . 12. 4.

Imprinted at London by Iohn Windet . 1594.

To all the constant Ladies & Gentlewomen of England that feare God .

PArdon me ( sweete Ladies , ) if at this present , I depriue you of a iust Apology in defence of your constant Chastities , deserued of many of you , and long sithence promised by my selfe , to some of you : and pardon mee the sooner , for that I haue long expected that the same should haue beene perfourmed by some of your selues , which I know are well able , if you were but so wellwilling to write in your owne praise , as many men in these dayes ( whose tounges are tipt with poyson ) are too ready and ouer willing , to speake and write to your disgrace . This occasion had bene most fit , ( publishing now the praise of a constant wife ) if I had bene but almost ready . But the future time may agayne reueale as fit a meanes heereafter for the perfourmance of the same : if so it seeme good to him that moderateth all . Concerning this booke which I haue presumed to dedicate to the safe protection of your accustomed courtesies ; if yee aske me for the persons : I am altogether ignorant of them , and haue set them downe onely as I finde them named or disciphered in my author . For the trueth of his action , if you enquire , I will more fully deliuer my hereafter . Touching the substance of the matter it selfe , I thinke verily that the nature , woordes , gestures , promises , and very quintessence , as it were , is there liuely described , of such lewd chapmen as vse to entise silly maides , and assayle the Chastity of honest women . And no doubt but some of you , that haue beene tried in the like case , ( if euer you were tryed , ) shall in some one part or other acknowledge it to bee true . If mine Author haue found a Brytaine Lucretia , or an English Susanna , enuy not at her prayse ( good Ladies ) but rather endeuor to deserue the like . There may be as much done for any of you , as he hath done for his AVISA . Whatsoeuer is in me , I haue vowed it wholy , to the exalting of the glory of your sweete sex , as time , occasion and ability shall permit . In the meane time I rest yours in all dutyfull affection , and commend you all to his protection , vnder whose mercy we enioy all .

Your most affectionate , Hadrian Dorrell .

To the gentle & courteous Reader .

IT is not long sithence ( gentle Reader ) that my very good frend and chamber fellow M. Henry Willobie , a yong man , and a scholler of very good hope , being desirous to see the fashions of other countries for a time , departed voluntarily to her Maiesties seruice . Who at his departure , chose me amongst the rest of his frendes , vnto whome he reposed so much trust , that he deliuered me the key of his study , and the vse of all his bookes till his returne . Amongest which ( perusing them at leysure , ) I found many prety & witty conceites , as I suppose of his owne dooing . One among the rest I fancied so much , that I haue ventered so farre vpon his frendship , as to publish it without his consent . As I thinke it not necessary , to be ouer curious in an other mans labour , so yet something I must say for the better vnderstanding of the whole matter . And therefore , first for the thing it selfe , whether it be altogether fayned , or in some part true , or altogether true ; and yet in most part Poetically shadowed , you must giue me leaue to speake by coniecture , and not by knowledge . My coniecture is doubtfull , and therfore I make you the Iudges . Concerning the name of AVISA , I thinke it to be a fained name , like vnto Ouids Corinna ; and there are two causes that make mee thus to thinke . First , for that I neuer heard of any of that name that I remember ; and next for that in a voide paper rolled vp in this boke , I found this very name AVISA , written in great letters a prety distance asunder , & vnder euery letter a word beginning with the same letter , in this forme . A. Amans . V. vxor . I. inuiolata . S. semper . A. amanda .

That is in effect . A louing wife , that neuer violated her faith , is alwaies to be beloued . Which makes me coniecture that he minding for his recreation to set out the Idea of a constant wife , ( rather describing what good wiues should doe then registring what any hath done ) deuised a womans name , that might fitly expresse this womans nature whom he would aime at : desirous in this ( as I coniecture ) to imitate a far off , ether Plato in his Common wealth , or More in his Vtopia . This my surmise of his meaning , is confirmed also by the sight of other odd papers that I found , wherein he had , as I take it , out of Cornelius Agrippa , drawen the seuerall dispositions of the Italian , the Spanyard , the French man , the German , and the English man , and how they are affected in loue . The Italian dissembling his loue , assaileth the woman beloued , with certaine prepared wantonnesse : hee praiseth her in written verses , and extolleth her to the Heauens .

The Spanyard is vnpatient in burning loue , very mad with troubled lasciuiousnesse , hee runneth furiously , and with pittyfull complaintes , bewailing his feruent desire , doth call vpon his Lady , and worshippeth her , but hauing obtained his purpose maketh her common to all men .

The French man endeuoreth to serue , he seeketh to pleasure his woman with songes , and disports &c.

The Germane & Englishman being nigher of nature , are inflamed by little and little , but being enamored , they instantly require with arte , and entice with giftes &c. Which seuerall qualities are generally expressed by this Author in the two first trials or assaultes made by the noble man , and the lustie Caualieros , Captaines , or Cutters &c. Signifying by this generalitie that our noble men , gentlemen , captaines , and lusty youthes haue of late learned the fashions of all these countries , how to sollicit their cause , & court , their Ladies , & louers , & this continueth from the second Canto , to the ende of the two and twentieth .

After this he comes to describe these natures againe in particular examples more plainely , and beginneth first with the French man vnder the shadow of these Letters D. B. from the three and twentieth Canto vnto the end of the three and thirtieth . Secondly the English man or Germane , vnder these Letters D. H. from the 34. Canto vnto the ende of the forty three . Lastly the Spanyard and Italian , who more furiously inuadeth his loue , & more pathetically indureth then all the rest , from the forty foure Canto to the ende of the booke . It seemes that in this last example the author names himselfe , and so describeth his owne loue , I know not , and I will not bee curious .

All these are so rightly described according to their nature , that it may seeme the Author rather meant to shew what suites might be made , and how they may be aunsweared , then that there hath bene any such thing indeede .

These thinges of the one side leade me to thincke it altogether a fained matter , both for the names and the substance , and a plaine morrall plot , secretly to insinuate , how honest maides & women in such temptations should stand vpon their guard , considering the glory & praise that commendes a spotlesse life , and the blacke ignominy , & foule contempt that waiteth vpon a wicked and dissolute behauiour .

Yet of the other side , when I do more deepely consider of it , & more narrowly weigh euery particular part , I am driuen to thinke that there is some thing of trueth hidden vnder this shadow . The reasons that moue me are these , First in the same paper where I found the name of AVISA written in greate letters , as I said before , I found this also written with the Authors owne hand , videlicet , Yet I would not haue Auisa to be thought a politike fiction , nor a truethlesse inuention , for it may be , that I haue at least heard of one in the west of England , in whome the substaunce of all this hath bene verified , and in many thinges the very wordes specified : which hath indured these and many more , and many greater assaultes , yet , as I heare , she standes vnspotted , and vnconquered .

Againe , if we marke the exact descriptions of her birth , her countrie , the place of her abode ; and such other circumstances , but especially the matter and manner of their talkes and conferences , me thinkes it a matter almost impossible that any man could inuent all this without some ground or foundation to build on .

This inforceth me to coniecture , that though the matter be handled poetically , yet there is some thing vnder these fained names and showes that hath bene done truely . Now iudge you , for I can giue no sentence in that I know not . If there bee any such constant wife , ( as I doubt not but there may bee ) I wish that there were more would spring from her ashes , and that all were such . Whether my Author knew , or heard of any such I cannot tell , but of mine owne knowledge I dare to sweare , that I know one . A. D. that either hath , or would , if occasion were so offered , indure these , and many greater temptations with a constant mind , and setled heart . And therfore here I must worthely reprehend the enuious rage , both of Heathen Poets , and of some Christian and English writers , which so farre debase the credite and strength of the whole sexe , that they feare not with lying toungs wickedly to publish , that there are none at all that can continue constant , if they bee tried . Hereof sprang these false accusing speeches of the old Poets . Ludunt formosae , casta est , quam nemo rogauit . Faire wenches loue to play . And they are onely chast , whome no man doth assay .

And againe Rara auis in terris , nigroque simillima cygno , Foemina casta volat . Arare-seene bird that neuer flies , on earth ne yet in aire , Like blackish Swan , a woman chast ; if she be yong and faire .

This false opinion bred those foule-mouthed speeches of Frier Mantuan , that vpbraides all women with fleeting vnconstancy . This made Ariosto and others to inuent , and publish so many lewd and vntrue tales of womens vnfaithfulnes . And this is the cause , that in this booke ye shall so often find it obiected against AVISA by all her sutors , that no woman of what degree so euer can be constant if she be much requested , but that the best will yeeld . But the best is , this common and course conceit is receiued but onely among common , lewd , & carelesse men , who being wicked themselues , giue sentence of all others , according to the loose and lawlesse humors wherewithall they feele their owne straying and wandring affections to be infected . For they for sooth , because in diuers and sundrie places , ( as they often wickedly boast ) they may for an Angell and a great deale lesse haue hired nagges to ride at their pleasure , such as make a sinnefull gaine of a filthy carkasse ; because in other countries , where stewes and brothelhouses are winckt at , they see oftentimes , the fairest and not the meanest flocke to the fellowship of such filthy freedome , Thinke presently , that it is but a mony matter , or a little intreatie , to ouerthrow the chastity of any woman whatsoeuer . But if all women were in deede such as the woman figured vnder the name of AVISA either is , or at least is supposed to bee , they should quickly restore againe their auncient credite and glory which a few wicked wantons haue thus generally obscured . In the twentie and seuen Canto , I find how D. B. perswadeth with A. that it is little sinne or no fault to loue a frend besides her husband . Whereupon , inquiring more of the matter I haue heard some of the occupation verifie it for a trueth : That among the best sort , they are accompted very honest women in some cities now , that loue but one frend besides their husband , and that it is thought amongst them a thing almost lawfull . If this be true , ( as I hardly thincke it to bee true , because wicked men feare not to report any vntrueths ) but if it be true , I feare least the ripenesse of our sinne cry to the Lord for vengeance against vs , that tremble not at the remembrance of Gods iudgements , that hath bound a heauy curse & woe vpon the backe and conscience of them , That speake good of euill , and euill of good . that is , such as are growne to that pointe , that they are no longer ashamed of their sinne , nor care for any honesty , but are become wilfully desperate in the performance of all kind of impiety .

But I leaue this to the godly preachers to dilate more amply . And to returne to my purpose , although I must confesse that of all sortes of people , there haue bene & will be still some loosely and lewdly giuen , yet this can bee no excuse to lauishe tounges , to condemne all generally . For , I dare to venter my hand , and my head vpon this point , that , let the foure moral vertues be in order set downe . Prudence Fortitude Temperance Iustice and let the holy scriptures be searched from the beginning to the end , & let all the ancient histories both ecclesiasticall and prophane be thorowly examined , and there will bee found women inough , that in the performance of all these vertues , haue matched , if not ouer matched men of euery age , which I dare my selfe , to verifie in their behalfes vpon the venter and losing of my credite , if I had time and leasure . Among infinite numbers to giue you a taste of one or two : for wisedome , and Iustice , what say you to Placilla , wife to the Emperour Theodosius ? She was wont euery day in her owne person , to visite the sicke , the poore , and the maymed : And if at any time shee saw the Emperour declining from Iustice to any hard course , shee would bid him Remember himselfe , from whence he came , & Theodoret. eccles. hist. lib 5. cap. 17. what he was , in what state hee had bene , and in what state he was now ; which if he would do , he should neuer wax proud nor cruell , but rather humble , mercyfull and iust .

For temperance , how say you to the wife of one Pelagius , Theodor. ecc hist. li. 4. c. 10 of Laodicea , which being yong her selfe , and married to a yong and lusty man , was yet notwithstanding contented willingly , to forbeare carnall pleasure , during her whole life . I bring not this womans example , for any liking I haue to her fact , being lawfully married , but rather , against the curious carpers at womens strength , to proue that some women haue done that , which few men can doe .

For Fortitude and temperance both , I finde , that in Antioche , Eusebius lib. 8. cap. 24. there was a noble woman with her two daughters , rather then they would be defloured , cast themselues all willingly into a great riuer , and so drowned themselues .

And also , that in Rome there was a Senatours wife , who when she heard , that there were messengers sent from Maxentius cap. 27. Lok for Blandina in Eusebius , ● rare example of constancy & fortitude . the tirant , to bring her vnto him , perforce to be rauished of him ; and seing that her husband was not of ability and power to defend her , she vsed this pollicy . Shee requested that they wold giue her leaue to put on som better apparel & to attire her selfe more decently : which being graunted , and she gotten into a chamber by her selfe , she tooke a sword and perced her selfe to the hart , rather then she would be counted the Emperours whore .

By this may be seene what might be sayd in this argument , but leauing this to some other time , or to some other better able ; I returne to my author .

For the persons & matter , you haue heard my coniecture , now for the manner of the composition , disposition , inuention , and order of the verse , I must leaue euery mans sence to himselfe , for that which pleaseth me , may not fancy others . But to speake my iudgement , the inuention , the argument , and the disposition , is not common , nor , ( that I know ) euer handled of any man before in this order . For the composition and order of the verse : Although hee flye not alofte with the winges of Astrophell , nor dare to compare with the Arcadian shepheard , or any way match with the dainetie Fayry Queene ; yet shall you find his wordes and phrases , neither Tryuiall nor absurd , but all the whole worke for the verse , pleasant , without hardnesse , smooth without any roughnesse , sweete without tediousnesse , easie to be vnderstood , without harrish absurdity : yeelding a gratious harmony euery where , to the delight of the Reader .

I haue christened it by the name of Willoby his Auisa : because I suppose it was his doing , being written with his owne hand . How he will like my bouldnes , both in the publishing , and naming of it , I know not . For the incouraging and helping of maides and wiues to holde an honest and conastnt course against all vnhonest and lewd temptations , I haue doone that I haue doone . I haue not added nor detracted any thing from the worke it selfe , but haue let it passe without altering any thing : Onely in the end I haue added to fill vp some voyd paper certaine fragmentes and ditties , as a resolution of a chast and constant wife , to the tune of Fortune , and the praise of a contented mind , which I found wrapped altogether with this , and therefore knew not whether it did any way belong vnto this or not .

Thus leauing to trouble your patience with farder delaies . I commit you to the good gouernment of Gods spirit .

From my chamber in Oxford this first of October . Hadrian Dorrell .

Abell Emet in commendation of Willobies Auisa . TO Willoby , you worthy Dames yeeld worthy prayse , Whose siluer pype so sweetly sounds your strange delayes , Whose lofty style , with golden winges remountes your same , The glory of your Princely sex , the spotles name : O happy wench , who so she be if any be , That thus deserud thus to be praisd by Willobie , Shall I beleeue , I must beleeue , such one there is , Well hast thou said , long maist thou say , such on there is , If one there be , I can beleeue there are no more , This wicked age , this sinfull tyme breeds no such store : Such siluer myntes , such golden mines who could refuse ? Such offers made and not receu'd , I greatly muse . Such deepe deceit in frendly shewes , such tempting fittes , To still withstand , doth passe the reach of womens wittes : You Country maides , Pean nimphes reioyse and sing , To see from you a chast , a new Diana spring : At whose report you must not frett , you may not frowne , But rather stryue by due desert for like renowne , Her constant faith in hot assaye hath wonne the game , Whose praise shall liue , when she is dead with lasting fame : If my conceit from strangers mouth may credit get , A brauer Theame , more sweetly pend , was neuer yet . Abell Emet .

In praise of Willobie his Auisa , Hexameton to the Author . IN Lauine Land though Liuie bost , There hath beene seene a Constant dame : Though Rome lament that she haue lost The Gareland of her rarest fame , Yet now we see , that here is found , As great a Faith in English ground . Though Collatine haue deerely bought , To high renowne , a lasting life , And found , that most in vaine haue sought , To haue a Faire , and Constant wife , Yet Tarquyne pluckt his glistering grape , And Shake-speare , paints poore Lucrece rape . Though Susan shine in faithfull praise , As twinckling Starres in Christall skie , Penelop's fame though Greekes do raise , Of faithfull wiues to make vp three , To thinke the Truth , and say no lesse , Our Auisa shall make a messe . This number knits so sure a knot , Time doubtes , that she shall adde no more , Vnconstant Nature , hath begot , Of Fleting Feemes , such fickle store , Two thousand yeares , haue scarcely seene , Such as the worst of these haue beene . Then Aui-Susan ioyne in one , Let Lucres-Auis be thy name , This English Eagle sores alone , And farre surmounts all others fame , Where high or low , where great or small , This Brytan Bird out-flies them all . Were these three happie , that haue found , Braue Poets to depaint their praise ? Of Rurall Pipe , with sweetest sound , That haue beene heard these many daies , Sweete wylloby his AVIS blest , That makes her mount aboue the rest . Contraria Contrarijs : Vigilantius : Dormitanus .

Faults escaped .

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WILLOBIE HIS AVISA , OR The true picture of a modest Maide , and of a chast and constant wife .

CANT. I. LEt martiall men , of Mars his praise , Sound warlike trumpe : let lust-led youth , Of wicked loue , write wanton layes ; Let sheepeheards sing , their sheepe coates ruth : The wiser sort , confesse it plaine , That these haue spent good time in vaine . My sleepie Muse that wakes but now , Nor now had wak't if one had slept , To vertues praise hath past her vow , To paint the Rose which grace hath kept , Of sweetest Rose , that still doth spring , Of vertues birde my Muse must sing . The birde that doth resemble right , The Turtles faith in constant loue , The faith that first her promise plight ; No change , nor chance could once remoue : This haue I tri'd ; This dare I trust , And sing the truth , I will , I must . Afflicted Susans spotlesse thought , Intis't by lust to sinfull crime , To lasting fame her name hath brought , Whose praise incounters endlesse time : I sing of one whose beauties warre , For trials passe Susanna's farre . The wandring Greekes renowmed mate , That still withstoode such hote assayes , Of raging lust whose doubtfull state , Sought strong refuge , from strange delayes , For fierce assaults and tryals rare , With this my Nimph may not compare . Hote tryals try where Golde be pure , The Diamond daunts the sharpest edge , Light chaffe , fierce flames may not indure , All quickly leape the lowly hedge , The obiect of my Muse hath past Both force and flame , yet stands she fast . Though Egle-eyde this bird appeare , Not blusht at beames of Phoebus raies : Though Faulkcon wing'd to pearce the aire , Whose high-pla'st hart no feare dismaies : Yet sprang she not from Egles nest , But Turtle-bred , loues Turtle best . At wester side of Albions Ile , Where Austine pitcht his Monkish tent , Where Sheapheards sing , where Muses smile , The graces met with one consent , To frame each one in sundry parte , Some cunning worke to shew their arte . First Venus fram'd a luring eye , A sweete aspect , and comly grace ; There did the Rose and Lillie lie , That brauely deckt a smiling face , Here Cupids mother bent her wil , In this to shew her vtmost skill . Then Pallas gaue a reaching head , With deepe conceites , and passing wit , A setled mind , not fancie-led , Abhorring Cupids frantique fit , With modest lookes , and blushing cheekes , A filed tongue which none mislikes . Diana deckt the remnant partes With fewture braue , that nothing lacke , A quiuer full of pearcing Darts , She gaue her hanging at her backe ; And in her hand a Golden shaft , To conquer Cupids creeping craft . This done they come to take the view , Of nouell worke , of perelesse frame ; Amongst them three , contention grew , But yet Diana gaue the name , Auisa shall she called be , The chiefe attendant still on me . When Iuno view'd her luring grace , Olde Iuno blusht to see a new , She fear'd least Ioue would like this face , And so perhaps might play vntrew , They all admir'd so sweete a sight , They all enuide so rare a wight . When Iuno came to giue her wealth , Beautie without riches , is as a faire picture without life . ( Which wanting beautie , wants her life ) She cryde , this face needes not my pelffe , Great riches sow the seedes of strife : I doubt not , some Olympian power Will fill her lap , with Golden shower . This iealous Iuno faintly said , Iealosie breedes enuy : Both together breed frenzie yet neither of them both can preuaile against wandring fancie . As halfe misdeeming wanton Ioue , But chast Diana tooke the maide , Such new-bred qualmes quite to remoue : O iealous enuie , filthie beast , For enuie Iuno gaue her least . In lew of Iun'os Golden parte , Diana gaue her double grace ; A chast desire , a constant heart , A straunge bayte . Disdaine of loue in fawning face , A face , and eye , that should intice A smile , that should deceiue the wise . A sober tongue that should allure , And draw great numbers to the fielde ; A flintie hart , that should indure All fierce assaults , and neuer yeelde , And seeming oft as though she would ; Yet fardest off when that she should . Can filthy sinke yeelde holsome aire , Or vertue from a vice proceede ? Can enuious hart , or iealous feare Repell the things that are decreed ? By enuie though she lost her thrift , She got by grace a better gift . Not farre from thence there lyes a vale , A rosie vale in pleasant plaine ; The Nimphes frequent this happie dale , Olde Helicon reuiues againe ; Here Muses sing , here Satyres play , Here mirth resounds both night and day . At East of this , a Castle stands , By auncient sheepheards built of olde , And lately was in sheepheards hands , Though now by brothers bought and solde , At west side springs a Christall well ; There doth this chast Auisa dwell . And there she dwels in publique eye , Shut vp from none that list to see ; She answeres all that list to try , Both high and low of each degree : But few that come , but feele her dart , And try her well ere they depart . They try'd her hard in hope to gaine , Her milde behauiour breeds their hope , Their hope assures them to obtaine , Till hauing runne their witlesse scope ; They find their vice by vertue crost , Their foolish words , and labour lost . This strange effect , that all should craue , Yet none obtaine their wrong desire , A secret gift , that nature gaue , To feele the frost , amidst the fire : Blame not this Dians Nimphe too much , Sith God by nature made her such . Let all the graces now be glad , That fram'd a grace that past them all , Let Iuno be no longer sad ; Her wanton Ioue hath had a fall ; Ten yeares haue tryde this constant dame , And yet she holds a spotles fame . Along this plaine there lyes a downe , Where sheepheards feed their frisking flocke ; Her Sire the Maior of the towne , A louely shout of auncient stocke , Full twentie yeares she liued a maide , And neuer was by man betrayde . At length by Iuno's great request , Diana loth , yet gaue her leaue , Of flowring yeares , to spend the rest In wed-locke band ; but yet receiue , A good gift . Quod she , this gift ; Thou virgin pure , Chast wife in wed-locke shalt indure . O happie man that shall enioy A blessing of so rare a price ; That frees the hart from such annoy ; As often doth torment the wise , A louing wife vnto her death , With full assurance of her faith . When flying fame began to tell , How beauties wonder was returnd , From countrie hils , in towne to dwell , With special gifts and grace adornd , Of sutors store there might you see ; And some were men , of high degree . But wisdom wild her chuse her mate , If that she lou'd a happy life , That might be equall to her state , To crop the sprigges of future strife ; Where rich in grace , wher sound in health , Most men do wed , but for the wealth . Though iealous Iuno had denyde This happy wench , great store of pelffe : Yet is she now in wedlocke tyde , To one that loues her as himselfe , So thus they liue , and thus they loue ; And God doth blesse them from aboue . This rare seene bird , this Phoenix sage Yeelds matter to my drowsie pen , The mirror of this sinneful age , That giues vs beasts in shapes of men , Such beasts as still continue sinne , Where age doth leaue , there youths begin . Our English soile , to Sodoms sinke Excessiue sinne transformd of late , Of foule deceite the lothsome linke , Hath worne all faith cleane out of date , The greatest sinnes mongst greatest sort , Are counted now but for a sport . Old Asues grandame is restor'd ; Her grouie Caues are new refinde : The monster Idoll is ador'd 2. Chro. 15. 16 By lustie dames of Macha's kinde : They may not let this worship fall , Although they leese their honours all . Our Moab Cozbies cast no feare , To let in view of euery eye , Their gainelesse games they holde so deere , Numer. 25. 6. They follow must , although they dye . For why ? the sword that Phineas wore , Is broken now , and cuts no more . My tender Muse , that neuer try'd Her ioynted wings till present time , At first the perelesse bird espy'd , That mounts aloft , deuoide of crime ; Though high she sore , yet will I trie , Where I her passage can discry . Her high conceites , her constant minde ; Her sober talke , her stout denies ; Her chast aduise , here shall you find ; Her fierce assaults , her milde replies , Her dayly fight with great and small , Yet constant vertue conquers all . The first that saies to plucke the Rose , That scarce appear'd without the bud , With Gorgeous shewes of Golden glose , To sow the seeds that were not good : Suppose it were some noble man That tride her thus , and thus began .

The first triall of AVISA , before she was married , by a Noble man : vnder which is represented a warning to all young maids of euery degree , that they beware of the alluring intisements of great men .

CANT. II. NOB. NOw is the time , if thou be wise , Thou happie maide , if thou canst see , Thy happiest time , take good aduise , Good fortune laughs , be rulde by me : Be rulde by me , and her 's my faith , No Golde shall want thee till thy death . Thou knowest my power , thou seest my might , Thou knowest I can maintaine thee well , And helpe thy friends vnto their right ; Thou shalt with me for euer dwell , My secret friend thou shalt remaine , And all shall turne to thy great gaine . Thou seest thy parents meane estate , That barres the hope of greater chance ; And if thou proue not wise too late , Thou maist thy selfe , and thine aduance : Repulse not fondly this good hap , That now lies offred in thy lap . Abandon feare that bars consent , Repel the shame that feares a blot , Let wisdome way what faith is ment , That all may praise thy happie lot ; Thinke not I seeke thy liues disgrace ; For thou shalt haue a Ladies place . Thou art the first my fancie chose , I know thy friends will like it well : This friendly fault to none disclose , And what thou thinkst , blush not to tell , Thou seest my loue , thou know'st my mind , Now let me feele , what grace I find .

CANT. III. AVISA YOur Honours place , your riper yeares , Might better frame some grauer talkes : Midst sunnie rayes , this cloud appeares ; Sweete Roses grow on prickly stalkes : If I conceiue , what you request , You aime at that I most detest . My tender age that wants aduice , And craues the aide of sager guides , Should rather learne for to be wise , To stay my steps from slipperie slides ; Then thus to sucke , then thus to tast The poys'ned sap , that kils at last . I wonder what your wisdome ment , Thus to assault a silly maide : Some simple wench , might chance consent , By false resembling shewes betraide : I haue by grace a natiue shield , To lewd assaults that cannot yeeld , I am too base to be your wife , You choose me for your secret frend ; That is to lead a filthy life , Whereon attends a fearefull end : Though I be poore , I tell you plaine , To be your whore , I flat disdaine . Your high estate , your siluer shrines , Repleate with wind and filthy stinke ; Your glittering gifts , your golden mynes , May force some fooles perhaps to shrinke : But I haue learnd that sweetest bayt , Oft shrowds the hooke of most desayt . What great good hap , what happie time , Your proffer brings , let yeelding maids Of former age , which thought to clime , To highest tops of earthly aids , Come backe a while , and let them tell , Where wicked liues haue ended well . Shores wife , a Princes secret frend , Faire Rosomond , a Kings delight : Yet both haue found a gastly end , And fortunes friends , felt fortunes spight : What greater ioyes , could fancie frame , Yet now we see , their lasting shame . If princely pallace haue no power , To shade the shame of secret sinne , If blacke reproch such names deuoure , What gaine , or glory can they winne , That tracing tracts of shamelesse trade , A hate of God , and man are made ? This onely vertue must aduaunce My meane estate to ioyfull blisse : For she that swaies dame vertues launce , Of happie state can neuer misse , But they that hope to gaine by vice , Shall surely proue too late vnwise . The roote of woe is fond desire , That neuer feeles her selfe content : But wanton wing'd , will needes aspire , To finde the thing , she may lament , A courtly state , a Ladies place , My former life will quite deface . Such strange conceites may hap preuaile , With such as loue such strong desayts , But I am taught such qualmes to quaile , And flee such sweete alluring bayts , The witlesse Flie playes with the flame , Till she be scorched with the same . You long to know what grace you find , In me , perchance , more then you would , Except you quickly change your mind , I find in you , lesse then I should , Moue this no more , vse no reply , I 'le keepe mine honour till I die .

CANT. IIII. NOB. ALas , good soule , and will yee so ? You will be chast Diana's mate ; Till time haue woue the web of woe , Then to repent wil be too late , You shew your selfe so foole-precise , That I can hardly thinke you wise , You sprang belike from Noble stocke , That stand so much vpon your fame , You hope to stay vpon the rocke , That will preserue a faultlesse name , But while you hunt for needelesse praise , You loose the Prime of sweetest daies . A merry time , when countrie maides Shall stand ( forsooth ) vpon their garde ; And dare controll the Courtiers deedes , At honours gate that watch and warde ; When Milke maids shal their pleasures flie , And on their credits must relie . Ah silly wench , take not a pride , Though thou my raging fancie moue , Thy betters far , if they were try'd , Would faine accept my proffered loue ; T' was for thy good , if thou hadst wist , For I may haue whome ere I list . But here thy folly may appeare , Art thou preciser then a Queene : Queene Ioane of Naples did not feare , To quite mens loue , with loue againe : Cornelius Agrippa . And Messalina , t' is no newes , Was dayly seene to haunt the stewes . And Cleopatra , prince of Nile , With more then one was wont to play : And yet she keepes her glorious stile , And fame that neuer shall decaie , What need'st thou then to feare of shame , When Queenes and Nobles vse the same ?

CANT. V. AVISA NEeds must the sheepe strake all awrie , Whose sheepheards wander from their way : Needes must the sickly patient die , Whose Doctor seekes his liues decay : Needs must the people well be taught , Whose chiefest leaders all are naught . Such lawlesse guides Gods people found , When Moab maides allur'd their fall ; They sought no salue to cure this wound , Till God commaunds , to hange them all ; For wicked life , a shamefull end To wretched men , the Lord doth send . Was earth consumde with wreakfull waues ? Did Sodom burne and after sinke ? What sinne is that , which vengaunce craues , If wicked lust no sinne we thinke ? O blind conceites ! O filthy breath ! That drawes vs headlong to our death . If death be due to euery sinne , How can I then be too precise ? Where pleasures end , if paine beginne , What neede haue we , then to be wise ? They weaue indeed the web of woe , That from the Lord doe yeeld to goe . I will remember whence I came , I hunt not for this worldly praise , I long to keepe a blamelesse fame , And constant hart gainst hard assaies : If this be folly , want of skill , I will remaine thus foolish still . The blindfold rage of Heathen Queenes , Or rather queanes that know not God , Gods heauie iudgements tried since , And felt the waight of angry rod ; God saue me from that Sodomes crie , Whose deadly sting shall neuer die .

CANT. VI. NOB. FOrgiue me wench , I did mistake , I little thought , that you could preach , All worldly ioyes , you must forsake : For so your great Diuines doe teach , But yet beware , be not too bold , A yongling Saint , a Deuill old . Well wanton well , thou art but yong , This is the error of thy youth , Thou wilt repent this faith ere long , And see too late ( perhaps ) the truth ; And they that seeme so pure at first , Are often found in proofe the worst . Thy youth and beautie will not last , For sicknes one , the other age May captiue take , when both are past , You may haue leasure to be sage , The time will come , if these retire , The worst will scorne that I desire . Of chast renowme , you seeke the praise , You build your hope aboue the ayre , When wonders last not twentie daies , What need you rusticke rumors feare ? Esteeme not words aboue thy wealth , Which must procure thy credits health . And yet in truth I can not see , From whence such great discredit growes , To liue in spight of euery eye , And swim in silkes , and brauest shewes , To take the choise of daintiest meate , And see thy betters stand and waite . These graue respects breede pleasures braue , Thy youthly yeares for ioyes craue , And fading credit hath his waue , That none to thee doth shine so braue : That smokie fame which likes thee best , The wisest haue esteemed least .

CANT. VII . AVISA WEll now I see , why Christ commends , To louing mates the Serpents wit , That stops his eares , and so defends His hart , from luring sounds vnfit , If you your madnes still bewraye , I 'le stop my eares , or goe my way . Vlisses wise , yet dar'd not stay The tising sound of Syrens song : What fancie then doth me betray , That thinke my selfe , so wise and strong ; That dare to heare , what you dare speake , And hope for strength , when you beweake ? My wisdome is the liuing Lord , That giues me grace which nature wants , That holds my seate from waies abhord , And in my hart good motions plants : With him I dare to bide the field , Striue while you list , I can not yeeld . Fond fauour failes , the time will passe , All earthly pleasures haue their end , We see not that , which sometime was , Nor that which future times will send : You say the truth , remember this , And then confesse , you stray amisse . The shorter time , the greater care , Are pleasures vaine ? the lesse delight , Are daungers nye ? why then beware , From base affections take your flight , Thinke God a reckning will require , And striue to quaile this bad desire . To swim in silkes , and braue aray , Is that you thinke which women loue , That leads poore maides so oft astray , That are not garded from aboue ? But this I know , that know not all , Such wicked pride , will haue a fall .

CANT. VIII . NOB. ALas the feare , alas the fall , And what 's the fall , that you so feare ? To tosse good fortunes golden ball , And gaine the goale I prize so deare , I doubt least these your needlesse feares , Will bar good hap , from witlesse yeares . Thy age experience wants I see , And lacking tryall art afraid , Least ventring farre to credit me , Our secret dealings might be wrayd ; What then doth not my mightie name , Suffice to sheeld thy fact from shame ? Who dares to stirre , who dares to speake , Who dares our dealings to reproue ? Though some suspect , yet none will creake , Or once controll thy worthy loue ; My might will stand for thy defence , And quite thee cleare from great offence . Who sees our face , knowes not our facts , Though we our sport in secret vse , Thy cheekes will not bewray thy acts , But rather blushing make excuse : If thou wilt yeeld , here is my faith , I 'le keepe it secret till thy death . To seeme as chast , let that suffice , Although indeed thou be not so , Thus deale our women that are wise , And let thy godly Doctors go , Still faine as though thou godly art , It is inough , who knowes thy hart ? Let not the idle vulgar voice , Of fained credit witch thee so , To force thee leaue this happie choise , And flying pleasure liue in woe ; If thou refuse , assure thy mind , The like of this shalt neuer find .

CANT. IX . AVISA . LEt that word stand , let that be true , I doe refuse and so doe still , God shield me from your cursed crew , That thus are led by beastly will , It grieues my hart , that I doe find In Noble bloud so base a mind . On worldly feare , you thinke I stand , Or fame that may my shame resound , No Sir , I feare his mightie hand , That will both you and me confound , His feare it is that makes me stay My wandring steps from wicked way . Who dares , say you , our facts vnfold ? Eu'n he that can mightie Kings tame , And he that Princes hath controld , He dares prouide a mightie shame , What fence haue you for to withstand His firie plagues , and heuie hand ? Though Samson queld the Lyons rage , Though Solomon , a mightie King , Yet when to sinne their harts they gage , On both doth God confusion bring , How can you then his wrath auoid , That you and yours be not destroid ? He sees our facts , he viewes our deeds , Although we sinne in secret place , A guiltie conscience alwaies bleeds : My faults will shew vpon my face , My cheekes will blush , when I doe sin ; Let all men know , when I begin . To seeme as chast , and not to be , To beare a shew , and yet to faine , Is this the loue , you beare to me , To damne my soule in lasting paine ? If this the best you haue to say , Pray giue me leaue , to goe my way .

CANT. X. NOB. WEll then I see , you haue decreed , And this decree must light on mee : Vnhappie Lillie loues a weed , That giues no sent , that yeelds no glee , Thou art the first I euer tride , Shall I at first be thus denide ? My haplesse hap , fell much awrie , To fix my fancies prime delight , In haggard Hauke that mounts so hie , That checkes the lure , and Fawkners sight ; But sore you hie , or flie you low , Stoupe needs you must , before you goe . Your modest speech is not amisse , Your maidens blush becomes you well ; Now will I see how sweete you kisse , And so my purpose farder tell ; Your coye lookes and trickes are vaine , I will no nay , and that is plaine . Thou must perforce be well content , To let me win thee with thy will ; Thy chiefest friends haue giu'n consent , And therefore thinke , it is not ill , Abandon all thy fond delay ; And marke this well , that I shall say . My house , my hart , my land my life , My credit to thy care I giue : And if thou list to be a wife , In shew of honest fame to liue ; I 'le fit thee one , shall beare the cloke , And be a chimnie for the smoke . But say the word , it shall be don , And what thou list , or what thou craue , What so be lost , what euer won , Shall nothing want , that thou wilt haue , Thou shalt haue all , what wilt thou more , Which neuer woman had before . Here 's fortie Angels to begin ; A little pledge of great good will , To buy thee lace , to buy a pin ; I will be carefull of thee still : If youth be quaild , if I be old , I can supply that with my gold . Silke gownes and veluet shalt thou haue , With hoods and cauls , fit for thy head ; Of goldsmithes worke a border braue , A chaine of golde ten double spread ; And all the rest shall answere this , My purse shall see that nothing misse . Two wayting maides , attendant still , Two seruing men , foure geldings prest , Go where you list , ride where you will , No iealous thought shal me molest ; Two hundreth pounds I doe intend , To giue thee yearely for to spend . Of this I will assurance make , To some good friend , whom thou wilt chuse That this in trust from me shall take , While thou dost liue , vnto thy vse ; A thousand markes , to thee giue I , And all my Iewels when I die . This will I doe , what euer chance , I 'le shortly send , and fetch thee hence ; Thy chiefest friends I will aduance , And leaue them cause of no offence , For all this same , I onely craue But thy good-will , that let me haue . A modest maide is loth to say , In open words , she doth consent , Till gentle force doe breake the stay , Come on mine owne , and be content , Possesse me of my loues desire , And let me tast that I require .

CANT. XI . AVISA . HAnd off my Lord , this will not serue , Your wisdome wanders much awrie , From reasons rule thus farre to swarue , I 'le neuer yeeld , I 'le rather die , Except you leaue , and so depart , This knife shall sticke within your hart . Is this the loue , your franticke fit Did so pretend in glosing shew ? Are these your waies , is this your wit , To tice and force poore maidens so ? You striue in vaine , by raging lust , To gaine consent , or make me trust . For who can trust your flattering stile , Your painted words , your braue pretence , When you will striue , by trayned will To force consent to lewd offence , Then thus to yeeld by chaunted charmes , I 'le rather die within your armes . Your golden Angels I repell , Your lawlesse lust I here defie These Angels are the posts of hell , That often lead poore soules awrie , Shame on them all , your eyes shall see , These Angels haue no power of me . Your gownes of silke , your golden chaines , Your men , your maides , your hundreth pounds , Are nothing else but diuelish traines , That fill fond eares with tickling sounds , A bladder full of traiterous wind , And fardest off from filthy mind . Well , sith your meaning now is plaine , And lust would giue no longer leaue , To faithlesse hart , to lie and faine , Which might perchance in time deceiue , By Iesus Christ I doe protest , I 'le neuer graunt that you request .

CANT. XII . NOB. Furens . THou beggers brat , thou dunghill mate , Thou clownish spawne , thou country gill , My loue is turnd to wreakefull hate , Go hang , and keepe thy credit still , Gad where thou list , aright or wrong , I hope to see thee begge , erre long . Was this great offer well refus'd , Or was this proffer all too base ? Am I fit man to be abus'd , With such disgrace , by flattering gase ? On thee or thine , as I am man , I will reuenge this if I can . Thou think'st thy selfe a pearelesse peice , And peeuish pride that doth possesse Thy hart ; perswades that thou art wise , When God doth know ther 's nothing lesse , T' was not thy beautie that did moue This fond affect , but blinded loue . I hope to see some countrie clowne , Possessor of that fleering face , When need shall force thy pride come downe , I 'le laugh to see thy foolish case , For thou that think'st thy selfe so braue , Wilt take at last some paltrie knaue , Thou selfewill gig that dost detest My faithfull loue , looke to thy fame , If thou offend , I doe protest , I 'le bring thee out to open shame , For sith thou fayn'st thy selfe so pure , Looke to thy leapes that they be sure . I was thy friend , but now thy foe , Thou hadst my hart , but now my hate , Refusing wealth , God send thee woe , Repentance now will come too late , That tongue that did protest my faith , Shall waile thy pride , and wish thy death .

CANT. XIII . AVISA . YEa so I thought , this is the end Of wandring lust , resembling loue , Wa' st loue or lust , that did intend Such friendlesse force , as you did moue ? Though you may vaunt of happier fate , I am content with my estate . I rather chuse a quiet mind , A conscience cleare from bloudy sinnes , Then short delights , and therein find That gnawing worme , that neuer linnes , Your bitter speeches please me more , Then all your wealth , and all your store . I loue to liue deuoid of crime , Although I begge , although I pine , These fading ioyes for little time , Imbrace who list , I here resine , How poore I goe , how meane I fare , If God be pleas'd , I doe not care . I rather be are your ragingire , Although you sweare reuengment deepe , Then yeeld for gaine to lewd desire , That you might laugh , when I should weepe , Your lust would like but for a space , But who could salue my foule disgrace ? Mine eares haue heard your taunting words , Of yeelding fooles by you betraid , Amongst your mates at open bords , Know'st such a wife ? know'st such a maid ? Then must you laugh , then must you winke , And leaue the rest for them to thinke . Nay yet welfare the happie life , That need not blush at euery view : Although I be a poore mans wife , Yet then I 'le laugh as well as you , Then laugh as long , as you thinke best , My fact shall frame you no such iest . If I doe hap to leape aside , I must not come to you for aide , Alas now that you be denide , You thinke to make me sore afraide ; Nay watch your worst , I doe not care , If I offend , pray doe not spare . You were my friend , you were but dust , The Lord is he , whome I doe loue , He hath my hart , in him I trust , And he doth gard me from aboue , I waie not death , I feare not hell , This is enough , and so farewell .

THE SECOND TEMPtation of AVISA , after her marriage by Ruffians , Roysters , young Gentlemen , and lustie Captaines , which all shee quickly cuts off .

CANT. XIIII . CAVEILEIRO . COme lustie wench , I like thy lookes , And such a pleasant looke I loue , Thine eyes are like to bayted hookes , That force the hungrie fish to moue , Where nature granteth such a face , I need not doubt to purchase grace . I doubt not but thy inward thought , Doth yeeld as fast as doth thine eye ; A loue in me hath fancie wrought , Which worke you can not well denye ; From loue you can not me refraine , I seeke but this , loue me againe . And so thou dost , I know it well , I knew it by thy side-cast glance , Can hart from outward looke rebell ? Which yeasternight I spide by chance ; Thy loue ( sweete hart ) shall not be lost , How deare a price so euer it cost . Aske what thou wilt , thou know'st my mind , Appoint the place , and I will come , Appoint the time , and thou shalt find , Thou canst not fare so well at home , Few words suffice , where harts consent , I hope thou know'st , and art content . Though I á stranger seeme as yet , And seldome seene , before this day , Assure thy selfe that thou mayst get , More knackes by me , then I will say , Such store of wealth as I will bring , Shall make thee leape , shal make thee sing , I must be gone , vse no delay , At six or seuen the chance may rise , Old gamesters know their vantage play , And when t' is best to cast the dice , Leaue ope your poynt , take vp your man , And mine shall quickly enter than .

CANT. XV , AVISA . WHat now ? what newes ? new warres in hand ? More trumpets blowne of fond conceites ? More banners spread of follies band ? New Captaines coyning new deceites ? Ah woe is me , new campes are pla'st , Whereas I thought all daungers past . O wretched soule , what face haue I , That can not looke , but some misdeame ? What sprite doth lurke within mine eye , That kendles thoughts so much vncleane ? O lucklesse fewture neuer blest , That sow'st the seedes of such vnrest . What wandring fits are these that moue Your hart , inragde with euery glance ; That iudge a woman straight in loue , That welds her eye aside by chance , If this your hope , by fancie wrought , You hope on that , I neuer thought . If nature giue me such a looke , Which seemes at first vnchast or ill , Yet shall it proue no bayted hooke , To draw your lust to wanton will , My face and will doe not agree , Which you in time ( perhaps ) may see . If smiling cheare and friendly words , If pleasant talke such thoughts procure , Yet know my hart , no will afords , To scratching kites , to cast the lure , If milde behauior thus offend , I will assaie this fault to mend . You plant your hope vpon the sand , That build on womens words , or smiles ; For when you thinke your selfe to stand In greatest grace , they proue but wyles , When fixt you thinke on surest ground , Then fardest off they will be found .

CANT. XVI , AVISA . YOu speake of loue , you talke of cost , Is' t filthy loue your worship meanes ? Assure your selfe your labor 's lost ; Bestow your cost among your queanes , You left not here , nor here shall find , Such mates as match your beastly mind . You must againe to Coleman hedge , For there be some that looke for gaine , They will bestow the French mans badge , In lew of all your cost and paine , But Sir , it is against my vse , For gaine to make my house a stewes . What haue you seene , what haue I doon , That you should iudge my mind so light , That I so quickly might be woon , Of one that came but yeasternight ? Of one I wist not whence he came , Nor what he is , nor what 's his name ? Though face doe friendly smile on all , Yet iudge me not to be so kind , To come at euery Faulkners call , Or waue aloft with euery wind , And you that venter thus to try , Shall find how far you shoote awry . And if your face might be your iudge , Your wannie cheekes , your shaggie lockes , Would rather moue my mind to grudge , To feare the piles , or else the pockes : Yf you be mou'd , to make amends , Pray keepe your knackes for other frends . You may be walking when you list , Looke ther 's the doore , and ther 's the way , I hope you haue your market mist , Your game is lost , for lacke of play , The point is close , no chance can fall , That enters there , or euer shall .

CANT. XVII . CAVELEIRO . GOds wo : I thinke you doe but iest , You can not thus delude my hope : But yet perhaps you thinke it best , ●right Caueleiro . At first to giue but little scope : At first assault you must retire , And then be fors't to yeeld desire . You thinke , that I would iudge you bad , If you should yeeld at first assaie , And you may thinke me worse then mad , If on repulse send me awaie , You thinke you doe your credit wrong , Except you keepe your sutors long . But I that know the wonted guise , Of such as liue in such a place , Old dame experience makes me wise , To know your meaning by your face , For most of them , that seeme so chast , Denie at first , and take at last . This painted sheth , may please some foole , That can not see the rustie knife : But I haue bin too long at schooles , To thinke you of so pure a life , The time and place will not permit , That you can long , here spot-lesse sit . And therefore wench , be not so strange , To grant me that , which others haue , I know that women loue to change , T' is but deceite , to seeme so graue , I neuer haue that woman tri'd , Of whome as yet I was deni'd . Your godly zeale doth breed my trust , Your anger makes me hope the more ; For they are often found the worst , That of their conscience make such store , In vaine to blush , or looke aside , A flat repulse , I can not bide .

CANT. XVIII . AVISA . THou wicked wretch , what dost not thinke There is a God that doth behold This sinnefull waies , this Sodoms sinke ? O wretched earth that art so bold , To iest at God , and at his word , Looke for his iust reuenging sword . Saint Paul commands vs not to eate , With him that leads a wicked life ; ● . Cor. 5. Or shall be found to lie in waite , To seeke to spoyle his neighbours wife , Such wicked soules God doth forsake , Reuela . 12. And dings them downe to fierie lake . A brain-sicke youth was striken blind , A young man was striken blind for looking dishonestly vpon a godly woman . The Locrenses vse to put out both the eyes of the adulterers . The law Iulia in Rome put adulterers to the sword . The Arabians doe the like . That sent his greedie eye to view , A godly wench , with godlesse mind , That paine might spring , whence pleasures grew , Remember friend , forget not this , And see you looke no more amisse . O Iulia flower of thy time , Where is thy law , where is thy word , That did condemne the wedlocke crime , To present death , with bloudy sword ? The shining of this percing edge , Would daunt the force of filthy rage . Though shamelesse Callets may be found ; That oyle them selues in common field ; And can carire the whoores rebound , To straine at first , and after yeeld : Yet here are none of Creseds kind , In whome you shall such fleeting find . The time and place may not condemne , The mind to vice that doth not sway , But they that vertue doe condemne , By time and place , are led astray , This place doth hold on at this time , That will not yeeld to bloudy crime . You thinke that others haue possest The place that you so lewdly craue , Wherein you plainely haue confest , Your selfe to be a iealous knaue , The rose vnblusht hath yet no staine , Nor euer shall , while I remaine .

CANT. XIX . CAVELEIRO . ME thinkes I heare a sober Fox , Stand preaching to the gagling Geese ; And shewes them out a painted box , And bids them all beware of cheese , Your painted box , and goodly preach , I see doth hold a boxly reach . Perchance you be no common card , But loue the daintie diamonds place , The ten , the knaue , may be your gard , Yet onely you , are still the ace , Contented close in packe to lie , But open dealing you defie . Well I confesse , I did offend , To rush so headlong to the marke ; Yet giue me leaue this fault to mend , And craue your pardon in the darke , Your credits fame I will not spill , But come as secret as you will . Nay her 's my hand , my faith I giue , My tongue my fact shall not reueale , To earthly creature while I liue ; Because you loue a secret deale , And where I come , I still will say , She would not yeeld , but said me nay . So shall your credit greater grow , By my report a passing praise And they that scant your name doe know , Your fame on hie , and hie shall raise , So shall you gaine that you desire , By granting that , which I require . To plant a siege , and yet depart , Before the towne be yeelded quite , It kils a martiall manly hart , That can not brooke such high despite , Then say you yea , or say you no , I 'le scale your wals , before I go .

CANT. XX. AVISA . A Fine deuice , and well contriu'd , Braue Golde vpon a bitter pill ; No maruaile well though you haue thriu'd , That so can decke , that so can dill ; Your quaintish quirkes can want no mate ; But here I wis , you come too late . It 's ill to hault before the lame , Or watch the bird that can not sleepe , Your new found trickes are out of frame , The fox will laugh , when Asses weepe ; Sweare what you list , say what you will , Before you spake , I knew your skill . Your secret dealing will not hold , To force me trie , or make me trust Your blind deuises are too old , Your broken blade hath got the rust , You need not lie , but truely say , She would not yeeld to wanton play . Your tongue shall spare to spread my fame , I list not buy too deare a sound , Your greatest praise would breed but shame , Report of me , as you haue found , Though you be loth to blow retreat , This mount's too strong for you to get . The wisest Captaine now and then , When that he feeles his foe too strong ; Retires betime to saue his men , That grow but weake , if seege belong ; From this assault you may retire , You shall not reach , that you require . I hate to feede you with delaies , As others doe , that meane to yeeld , You spend in vaine your strong assaies , To win the towne , or gaine the feeld ; No Captaine did , nor euer shall , Set ladder here , to skale the wall .

CANT XXI . CAVELEIRO . HAd I knowne this when I began , You would haue vsde me as you say , I would haue take you napping than , And giue you leaue to say me nay , I little thought to find you so : I neuer dreamt , you would say no. Such selfe like wench I neuer met , Great cause haue I thus hard to craue it , If euer man haue had it yet , I sworen haue , that I will haue it , If thou didst neuer giue consent ; I must perforce , be then content . If thou wilt sweare , that thou hast knowne , In carnall act , no other man : But onely one , and he thine owne , Since man and wife you first began , I 'le leaue my sute , and sweare it trew , Thy like in deed , I neuer knew .

CANT. XXII . AVISA . I Told you first what you should find , Although you thought I did but iest , And selfe affection made you blind , To seeke the thing , I most detest ; Besides his host , who takes the paine , To recken first , must count againe . Your rash swore oth you must repent , You must beware of headlong vowes ; Excepting him , whome free consent , By wedlocke words , hath made my spouse , From others yet I am as free , As they this night , that boren bee . CAVELEIRO . WEll giue me then a cup of wine , As thou art his , would thou were mine . AVISA . HAue t' ye good-lucke , tell them that gaue You this aduice , what speede you haue .

Farewell .

The third trial ; wherin are expressed the long passionate , and constant affections of the close and wary sutor , which by signes , by sighes , by letters , by priuie messengers , by Iewels , Rings , Golde , diuers gifts , and by a long continued course of courtesie , at length preuaileth with many both maides and wiues , if they be not garded wounderfully with a better spirite then their owne , which all are here finely daunted , and mildly ouer throwne , by the constant aunsweres , and chast replies of Auisa .

CANT. XXIII . D. B. A French man . AS flaming flakes , too closely pent , With smothering smoke , in narrow vault , Each hole doth trie , to get a vent , And force by forces , fierce assault , With ratling rage , doth rumbling raue , Till flame and smoke free passage haue . So I ( my deare ) haue smothered long , Within my hart a sparkling flame , Whose rebell rage is grown so strong , That hope is past to quell the same , Except the stone , that strake the fire , With water quench this hote desire . The glauncing speare , that made the wound , Which ranckling thus , hath bred my paine , Must pearcing slide with fresh rebound , And wound , with wound , recure againe . That flooting eye that pearst my hart , Must yeeld to salue my curelesse smart . I striu'd , but striu'd against the streame , To daunt the qualmes of fond desire , The more their course I did restraine , More strong and strong they did retire , Bare need doth force me now to runne , To seeke my helpe , where hurt begunne . Thy present state wants present aid , A quicke redresse my griefe requires , Let not the meanes be long delaid , That yeelds vs both our harts desires , If you will ease my pensiue hart , I 'le find a salue to heale your smart . I am no common gameling mate , That list to bowle in euery plaine , But ( wench ) consider both our state , The time is now , for both to gaine , From daungerous bands I set you free , If you wil yeeld to comfort mee .

CANT. XXIIII . AVISA . YOur fierie flame , your secret smart , That inward frets with pining griefe , Your hollow sighes , your heuie hart , Me thinks might quickly find reliefe , If once the certaine cause were knowne , From whence these hard effects haue growne . It little boots to shew your sore , To her that wants all Phisicke skill , But tell it them , that haue in store , Such oyles as creeping cankers kill , I would be glad , to doe my best , If I had skill , to giue you rest . Take heede , let not your griefe remaine , Till helpes doe faile , and hope be past , For such as first refus'd some paine , A double paine haue felt at last , A little sparke , not quencht be time , To hideous flames will quickly clime . If godly sorrow for your sin , Be chiefest cause , why you lament , If giltie conscience doe begin , To draw you truely to repent , A ioyfull end must needs redound , To happie griefe so seldome found . To striue all wicked lusts to quell , Which often sort to dolefull end , I ioye to heare you meane so well , And what you want , the Lord will send : But if you yeeld to wanton will , God will depart , and leaue you still . Your pleasant aide with sweete supply , My present state , that might amend , If honest loue be ment thereby , I shall be glad of such a frend , But if you loue , as I suspect , Your loue and you , I both reiect .

CANT. XXV . D. B. A French man . WHat you suspect , I can not tell , What I doe meane , you may perceiue , My workes shall shew , I wish you well , If well ment loue you list receiue , I haue beene long in secret mind , And would be still your secret frind . My loue should breed you no disgrace , None should perceiue our secret plaie , We would obserue both time and place , That none our dealings should bewraie , Be it my fortune , or my fault , Loue makes me venter this assault . You mistresse of my doubtfull chance , You Prince of this my soules desire , That lulls my fancie in a trance , The marke whereto my hopes aspire , You see the sore , whence springs my griefe You weld the sterne of my reliefe . The grauest men of former time , That liu'd with fame , and happie life , Haue thought it none , or pettie crime , To loue a friend besides their wife , Then sith my wife you can not be , As dearest friend accompt of me . You talke of sinne , and who doth liue , Whose dayly steps slide not awrie ? But too precise , doth deadly grieue , The hart that yeelds not yet to die , When age drawes on , and youth is past , Then let vs thinke of this at last . The Lord did loue King Dauid well , Although he had more wiues then one : King Solomon that did excell , For wealth and wit , yet he alone ; A thousand wiues and friends possest , Yet did he thriue , yet was he blest .

CANT. XXVI . AVISA . O Mightie Lord , that guides the Spheare ; Defend me by thy mightie will , From iust reproch , from shame and feare , Of such as seeke my soule to spill , Let not their counsell ( Lord ) preuaile , To force my hart to yeeld or quaile . How frames it with your sober lookes , To shroud such bent of lewd conceites ? What hope hath pla'st me in your bookes , That files me fit , for such deceites ? I hope that time hath made you see , No cause that breeds these thoughts in mee . Your feruent loue is filthy lust , And therefore leaue to talke of loue , Your truth is treason vnder trust , A Kite in shape of hurtlesse Doue , You offer more then friendship wold , To giue vs brasse in steed of gold . Such secret friends to open foes , Do often change with euery wind , Such wandring fits , where follie groes , Are certaine signes of wauering mind , A fawning face , and faithlesse hart , In secret loue , breeds open smart . No sinne to breake the wedlocke faith ? No sinne to swim in Sodomes sinke ? O sinne the seed and sting of death ! O sinnefull wretch that so doth thinke ! Your grauest men with all their schooles , That taught you thus , were heathen fooles . Your lewd examples will not serue , To frame a vertue from a vice , When Dauid and his Sonne did swerue , From lawfull rule , though both were wise , Yet both were plagu'd , as you may see , With mightie plagues of each degree .

CANT. XXVII . D. B. A French man . FRom whence proceeds this sodaine change ? From whence this quainte and coye speech ? Where did you learne to looke so strange ? What Doctor taught you thus to preach ? Into my hart it can not sinke , That you doe speake , as you doe thinke . Your smiling face , and glauncing eye , ( That promise grace , and not despite ) With these your words doe not agree , That seeme to shun your chiefe delight , But giue me leaue , I thinke it still , Your words doe wander from your will , Of women now the greatest part , Whose place and age doe so require , Do chuse a friend , whose faithfull hart , May quench the flame of secret fire , Now if your liking be not pla'st , I know you will chuse one at last . Then chusing one , let me be he , If so our hidden fancies frame , Because you are the onely she , That first inrag'd my fancies flame , If first you graunt me this good will , My hart is yours , and shall be still . I haue a Farme that fell of late , Woorth fortie pounds , at yearely rent , That will I giue to mend your state , And proue my loue is truely ment , Let not my sute be flat denide , And what you want , shall be supplide . Our long acquaintance makes me bold ; To shew my greife , to ease my mind , For new found friends , change not the old , The like perhaps you shall not find , Be not too rash , take good aduice ; Your hap is good , if you be wise .

CANT. XXVIII , AVIS A. MY hap is hard , and ouer bad , To be misdeemd of euery man ; That thinke me quickly to be had , That see me pleasant now and than : Yet would I not be much a greiu'd , If you alone were thus deceiu'd . But you alone are not deceiu'd , With tising baytes of pleasant view , But many others haue belieu'd , And tride the same , as well as you , But they repent their folly past , And so will you , I hope at last . You seeme , as though you lately came From London , from some bawdie sell , Where you haue met some wanton dame , That knowes the trickes of whoores so well , Know you some wiues , vse more then one ? Go backe to them , for here are none . For here are none , that list to chuse , A nouell chance , where old remaine , My choice is past , and I refuse , While this doth last , to chuse againe , While one doth liue , I will no more , Although I begge from dore to dore . Bestow your farmes among your frinds , Your fortie pounds can not prouoke , The setled hart , whom vertue binds , To trust the traines of hidden hooke , The labor 's lost that you indure , To gorged Hauke , to cast the lure . If lust had led me to the spoyle , And wicked will , to wanton change , Your betters that haue had the soyle , Had caus'd me long ere this to range , But they haue left , for they did see , How far they were mistake of mee .

CANT. XXIX . D. B. A French man . MIstake indeed , if this be true , If youth can yeeld to fauours foe ; If wisdome spring , where fancie grew ; But sure I thinke it is not so : Let faithfull meaning purchase trust , That likes for loue , and not for lust . Although you sweare , you will not yeeld , Although my death you should intend , Yet will I not forsake the field , But still remaine your constant frend , Say what you list , flie where you will , I am your thrall , to saue or spill . You may command me out of sight , As one that shall no fauour find , But though my body take his flight , Yet shall my hart remaine behind , That shall your guilty conscience tell , You haue not vs'd his masterwell . His masters loue he shall repeate , And watch his turne to purchase grace , His secret eye shall lie in waite ; Where any other gaine the place : When we ech others can not see , My hart shall make you thinke of mee . To force a fancie , where is none , T' is but in vaine , it will not hold , But where it growes it selfe alone , A little fauour makes it bold , Till fancie frame your free consent , I must perforce , be needs content . Though I depart with heauie cheare , As hauing lost , or left my hart , With one whose loue , I held too deare , That now can smile , when others smart , Yet let your prisoner mercy see , Least you in time a prisoner bee .

CANT. XXX . AVISA . IT makes me smile to see the bent , Of wandring minds with folly fed , How fine they faine , how faire they paint , To bring a louing soule to bed ; They will be dead , except they haue , What so ( forsooth ) their fancie craue . If you did seeke , as you pretend , Not friendlesse lust , but friendly loue , Your tongue and speeches would not lend , Such lawlesse actions , so to moue , But you can wake , although you winke , And sweare the thing , you neuer thinke . To wauering men that speake so faire , Catullus . Tum ●am nulla viro ●uranti foemina credat . Nulla viri ●eret , sermo●es esse fideles . Qui dum aliquid cupiens ●nimus praege●tit apisci , Nil metuunt iura●e , nihil promittere par●unt . Sed simul ac cupidae mentis satiata libido est , Dicta nihil metuere , nihil periuria curant . Let women neuer credit giue , Although they weepe , although they sware , Such fained shewes , let none belieue ; For they that thinke their words be true . Shall soone their hastie credit rue . When ventring lust doth make them dare , The simple wenches to betray , For present time they take no care , What they doe sweare , nor what they say , But hauing once obtaind the lot , Their words and othes are all forgot . Let rouing Prince from Troyes sacke , Whose fauning fram'd Queene Dido's fall , Teach women wit , that wisdome lacke , Mistrust the most , beware of all , When selfewill rules , where reason sate , Fond women oft repent too late . The wandring passions of the mind ; Combat betweene reason and appetite . No constant loue where vnconstant affections rule . That loue only constant that is grounded on vertue Where constant vertue bares no sway , Such franticke fickle chaunges find , That reason knowes not where to stay , How boast you then of constant loue , Where lust all vertue doth remoue ?

T. B. Being somewhat grieued with this aunswere , after long absence and silence , at length writeth , as followeth .

CANT. XXXI , D. B. To AVISA more pittie . THere is a cole that burnes the more , The more ye cast colde water neare , Canol cole found in many places of England . Nympaus locu● Leonicus de varia Histor. fo● 98. By the Ionian Sea there is a place that burnes continually , and the more water is cast into it , the more it flames . Like humor seedes my secret sore , Not quencht , but fed by cold dispaire , The more I feele , that you disdaine , The faster doth my loue remaine . In grace they find a burning soile , That fumes in nature like the same , Colde water makes the hotter broyle , The greater frost , the greater flame , So frames it with my loue or lost , That fiercely fries amidst the frost . My hart inflam'd with quenchlesse heate , Doth fretting fume in secret fire , These hellish torments are the meate , That dayly feede this vaine desire ; Thus shall I grone in gastly griefe , Till you by mercy send reliefe . You first inflam'd my brimstone thought , Your faining fauour witcht mine eye , O lucklesse eye , that thus hast brought , Thy masters hart to striue awrye , Now blame your selfe , if I offend , The hurt you made , you must amend . With these my lines I sent a Ring , Least you might thinke you were forgot , The posie meanes a pretie thing , That bids you , Do but dally not , Do so sweete hart , and doe not stay , For daungers grow from sound delay . Fiue winters Frosts haue say'd to quell These flaming fits of firme desire , Fiue Sommers sunnes can not expell The cold dispaire , that feeds the fire , This time I hope , my truth doth trie , Now yeeld in time , or else I die . Dudum beatus , D. B.

CANT. XXXII . AVISA . To D. B. more wisdome and feare of God . THe Indian men haue found a plant , Whose vertue , mad conceits doth quell , The roote Ba aras is good to deliuer them that are possessed with euill sprites . Iosephus . This roote ( me thinks ) you greatly want , This raging madnes to repell , If rebell fancie worke this spite , Request of God a better sprite . If you by folly did offend , By giuing raines vnto your lust , Let wisdome now these fancies end , Sith thus vntwin'd is all your trust , If wit to will , willneeds resigne , Why should your fault be counted mine ? Your Ring and letter that you sent , I both returne from whence they came , As one that knowes not what is ment , To send or write to me the same , You had your aunswere long before , So that you need to send no more . Your chosen posie seemes to show , That all my deeds but dallings bee , I neuer dallyed that I know , And that I thinke , you partly see , I shewde you first my meaning plaine , The same is yet , and shall remaine . Some say that Tyme doth purge the blood , And franticke humors brings to frame , Time purgeth cholericke humors , and the bloud I maruaile time hath done no good , Your long hid griefes and qualmes to tame ? What secret hope doth yet remaine , That makes these sutes reuiue againe ? But did you will , and that in hast , Except you find some quicke reliefe , I 'le warrant you , your life at last , While foolish loue is all your griefe , As first I said , so say I still , I can not yeeld , nor euer will . Alwaies the same , Auisa .

CANT XXXIII . The 2. letter of D. B. to hard harted AVISA farewell . I Find it true , that some haue said , Difficile est diligere , & Sapere . Vulteius . It 's hard to loue , and to be wise , For wit is ost by loue betraid , And brought a sleepe , by fond deuise , Sith faith no fauour can procure , My patience must , my paine indure . When womens wits haue drawne the plot , Non si foeminium crebro caput igne refū das , Ingenii mutes prima metalla sui . And of their fancie laid the frame , Then that they holde , where good or not , No force can moue them from the same : So you , because you first denide , Do thinke it shame , for that to slide . As faithfull friendship mou'd my tongue , Your secret loue , and fauour craue ; And as I neuer did you wrong , This last request so let me haue ; Let no man know what I did moue , Let no man know , that I did loue ; That I will say , this is the worst , When this is said , then all is past , Thou proud Auisa , were the first , Thou hard Auisa , art the last , Though thou in sorrow make me dwell , Yet loue will make me wish thee well . Write not againe , except you write , This onely gentle word , I will , This onely word will bring delite , The rest will breede but sorrow still , God graunt you gaine that you desire , By keeping that , which I require . Yet will I listen now and then , To see the end , my mind will craue , Where you will yeeld to other men , The thing that I could neuer haue . But what to me ? where false or true , Where liue or die , for aye Adue . Fortuna ferenda . D. B.

DYDIMVS HARCO . ANGLO-GERMANVS .

CANT. XXXIIII . D. H. I Haue to say , yet can not speake , The thing that I would gladly say , My hart is strong , though tong be weake , Yet will I speake it , as I may . And if I speake not as I ought , Blame but the error of my thought , And if I thinke not as I should , Blame loue that bad me so to thinke ; And if I say not what I would , T' is modest shame , that makes me shrinke , For sure their loue is very small , That can at first expresse it all . Forgiue my blush , if I doe blush , You are the first I euer tride , And last whose conscience I will crush , If now at first I be denide , I must be plaine then giue me leaue , I can not flatter nor deceiue . You know that Marchaunts ride for gaine , As chiefe foundations of their state , You see that we refuse no paine , To rise betime , and trauell late , But farre from home , this is the spite , We want sometimes our chiefe delite . I am no Saint , I must confesse , But naturde like to other men , My meaning you may quickly guesse , I loue a woman now and then , And yet it is my common vse , To take aduise , before I chuse . I oft haue seene the Western part , And therein many a pretie elfe , But found not any in my hart , I like so well as of your selfe ; And if you like no worse of mee , We may perhaps in time agree .

CANT XXXV . AVISA . WHen first you did request to talke With me alone a little space , When first I did consent to walke With you alone within this place , From this your sage , and sober cheare , I thought some graue aduise to heare . Some say that womens faces faine A modest shew , from wanton hart ; But giue me leaue , I see it plaine , That men can play a duble part , I could not dreame , that I should find In lustlesse shew , such lustfull mind . You make as though you would not speake , As vnacquainted yet with loue , As though your mind you could not breake , Nor how these secret matters moue , You blush to speake , Alas the blush , Yet this is all not worth a rush . Such slie conceites are out of ioynt , So foule within , so faire without , Not worth in proofe a threden poynt : But now to put you out of doubt , Your thought is far deceiu'd of mee , As you in time shall plainely see . If you had knowne my former life , With spotlesse fame that I haue held , How first a maide , and then a wife , These youthly sutes I haue repeld , You would ( I hope ) correct your rate , That iudge me thus a common mate . Whome you haue seene , I doe not care , Nor reck not what you did request , I am content this flout to beare , In that you say , you like me best , And if you wish that you agree , Correct your wrong conceite of mee .

CANT. XXXVI . D. H. THe lymed bird , by foulers traine , Intrapt by view of pleasant baite , Would faine vnwind himselfe againe ; But feeles too late the hid desaite : So I haue found the clasping lyme , That will sticke fast for longer tyme . There is a floud , whose riuers runne , In Italy is a certaine water that falleth into the Riuer Anion , of colour white , and at first seemes to bee wonderfull colde , but being a while in it , it heateth the body more extreamely . Leonicus de va ria Histor. Like streames of Milke , and seemes at first , Extreamely colde , all heate to shunne , But stay a while , and quench your thirst , Such vehement heate there will arise , As greater heate none may deuise . These strange effects I find inrold , Within this place , since my returne , My first affections were but cold , But now I feele them fiercely burne , The more you make such strange retire , The more you draw my new desire . You thinke perchance I doe but iest , Or I your secrets will bewray , Or hauing got that I request , With false AEneas steale away , If you suspect that I will range , Let God forsake me , when I change . I will not bost me of my wealth , You shall no Gold nor Iewels want , You see I am in perfect health , And if you list to giue your grant , A hundreth pounds shall be your hire , But onely doe that I require . And here 's a Bracelet to begin , Worth twentie Angels to be sold , Besides the rest , this shall you win , And other things not to be told , And I will come but now and then , To void suspect , none shall know when .

CANT. XXXVII . AVISA . WHy then your conscience doth declare A guilty mind that shunnes the light , A spotlesse conscience need not feare , The tongues of men , nor yet the sight , Your secret slides doe passe my skill , And plainely shewe your workes are ill . In Plato his common wealth all women were common , contrary to the commandement of God . Exod. 20 , 14. Leuit 18. 20. 29. Your words command the lawlesse rite , Of Platoes lawes that freedome gaue , That men and women for delight , Might both in common freely haue , Yet God doth threaten cruell death , To them that breake their wedlocke faith . The Bee beares honie in her mouth , Strange pleasure seemes sweete at the beginning , but their end is as bitter worme wood Prouer. 5. 3. 4. Prouer. 6. 27. Non tanti emam paenitcre , Filthy heathen lawes . In Cyprus , their maydens before the time of their mariage were set open to euery man to gaine their dowrie . Iustine . The Babilonians had a custome , that if any were poore , they should procure their daughters and wiues to get mony with their bodies . Herodot . Formosae , pretio capiuntur auarae . Imitantur hamos Dona. Foemina prostituit seseque Munera donat. Femina se vendit quae data dona capit , Vulteius . Yet poysoned sting in hinder part , The spring is sweete where pleasure growth , The fall of leafe brings storming smart , Vaine pleasure seemes most sweete at first , And yet their end is still accurst . What bosome beares hote burning coles , And yet consumes not with the same ? What feete tread fire with bared soles , And are not synged with the flame ? Then stay my friend , make no such hast , To buy Repentaunce at the last . I am not of the Cyprian sort , Nor yet haue learnd the common vse Of Bable dames , in filthy sport , For gaine no commers to refuse , What stormes or troubles euer grow , I list not seeke my liuing so . Your gorgious gifts , your golden hookes , Doe moue but fooles to looke aside , The wise will shunne such craftie crookes , That haue such falfe resemblance tride . But men are sure , that they will lift , That are content to take a gift .

CANT. XXXVIII . D. H. NAy then farewell , if this be so , If you be of the purer stampe , Gainst wind and tide I can not roe , I haue no oyle to feede that lampe , Be not too rash , denie not flat , For you refuse , you know not what . But rather take a farther day , For farther triall of my faith , And rather make some wise delay , To see and take some farther breath : He may too rashly be denide , Whose faithfull hart was neuer tride . And though I be by Iury cast , Yet let me liue a while in hope , And though I be condemnde at last , Yet let my fancie haue some scope , And though the body flie away , Yet let me with the shadow play . Will you receiue , if I doe send A token of my secret loue ? And stay vntill you see the end Of these effects , that fancie moue ? Grant this , and this shall salue my sore , Although you neuer grant me more . And thus at first let this suffise , Inquire of me , and take the vewe Of myne estate , with good aduise , And I will do the like by you ; And as you like , so frame your loue , But passe no promise till you proue . This haue I said to shew my bent , But no way spoken to offend , And though my loue cannot relent , Yet passed errors will I mend , Keepe close the Tenor of our talke , And say , we did for pleasure walke .

CANT XXXIX . AVISA . THen iugling mates do most deceaue , And most delude the dazeled sight , When vp they turne their folded sleeue , With bared armes to woorke their slight , When sharpe-set Foxe begins to preach , Let goslings keepe without his reach . And will you haue me set a day , To feede your hope with vaine delayes ? Well , I will doo as you do say , And posse you vp with fainting stayes , That day shall breake my plighted faith , That drawes my last and gasping breath . If you will hope , then hope in this , I le neuer grant that you require : If this you hope , you shall not misse , But shall obtaine your hopes desire , If other hope you do retaine , Your labor 's lost , your hope is vaine . The child that playes with sharpned tooles , Doth hurt himselfe for want of wit , And they may well be counted fooles , That wrastle neere a dangerous pit : Your loose desire doth hope for that , Which I must needes deny you flat . Send mee no tokens of your lust , Such giftes I list not to receiue , Such guiles shall neuer make me trust , Such broad-layde baytes cannot deceiue , The woman ●hat receiueth giftes of such sutors , selleth her selfe & her liberty . For they to yeeld do then prepare , That grant to take such proffred ware . If this be it you haue to say , You know my mynd which cannot change , I must be gon , I cannot stay , No fond delight can make me range , And for a farewell , this I sweare , You get not that I hold so deare .

After long absence , D H. happening to come in on a tyme sodenlyto her house , and finding her all alone amongst her maides that were spinning , sayd nothing , but going home wrate these verses following , which he called his Dum habui . and sent them vnto her .

CANT. XL. D. H. to AVISA . too constant . WHyl'st erst I had my libertie , To range the woodes where fancy list , The cause of all my miserie , By heedlesse hast my way I mist , Vntill I found within a plaine , A Christall Well , where Nimphes remaine . As weary of this wild-goose race , That led askance , I know not where , I chose at length a shadow place . To take the cold and pleasant ayre , But from the brinke of that same well , I saw my heauen , or els my hell . I saw a byrde from ioyning groue , That soaring came with comely grace , The Lillie and Vermillion stroue , In mayden-like and louely face , With seemely armes in steed of winges , No clawes , but fingers set with ringes . And in her hand she held a dart , As being of Diana's trayne , O that 's the cause of all my smart , And breeder of this endlesse paine , The thing I sought not , there I find , And lost the freedome of my mind . While on her eies , my eies did hang , From rolling eie there sprang a glance , And therewith heard a sodayne clang , That strake me in a deadly trance . But wak't I sawe blind Cupids craft , And in my hart the golden shaft . I sewd for grace , but she deny'd . Her laughty lookes she cast awry , And when my folly she espy'd , She laught to see my misery : Away she soares , and from my sight She smiling takes her parting flight . You are the byrde that bred the bane , That swelleth thus in restlesse thought , You are the snare that thus haue tane , And sences all to thraldome brought , You are the Iaylor that do keepe Your frend in bandes , and dungeon deepe . Renowmed chaste Penelope , With all her wordes could not redryue Her sutors , till she set a day , In which she would them answere giue , When threedy spindle full was grow'n , Then would she chuse one for her ow'n . They dayly came to see the end , And euery man doth hope to bee The chosen man , to be her frend , But womens wyles here men may see , Her Spill was neuer fully spone , For night vndid that day had done . I hope the like you haue decreed , That found you spinning but of late , Would God your Spill were full of threed , That might releeue my wretched state , I will forget the wronges are past , So you will chuse me at the last . Chuse one at length , I know you will , Let tryed saith for ten yeares space , How euer that your spindle fill , With ioy possesse that emptie place , And if you will , I do protest , My loue shall far surmount the rest . These lines that hope for better speed , As louing spyes are sent to see , Where you haue sponne vp all your threed , And what good hap is left for mee : Let there returne , yet make him glad , Whome loues dispayre hath made so sad . D. H.

CANT. XLI . Auisa her answere to D. H. a finall resolution . IF I be of Diana's trayne , As trewe it is I must confesse , I meruaite that you striue in vayne , Where frutelesse hope yeelds no redresse : For they must needes continue sad That seeke for that , will not be had . What seruile follie doth possesse Your base conceite , that can abyde Such piteous plaintes , and sutes addresse , To them that do your sutes deryde ? For I can hardly thinke them wyse , That try againe , repulsed thryse . No Hellens rape , nor Troian warre , My louing mate hath fors't away , No Iunoes wrath , to wander farre , From louing bed can make him stray , Nor stay at all in forraine land , But here I haue him still at hand . My sweet Vlisses neuer stayes From his desyred home so long , That I should need such rare delayes To Shield me from intended wrong , My chiefe delightes are alwayes nye , And in my bosome sweetely lye . The Spindle that you see me driue , Hath fyld the spill so often trend , My hartis fixt , since I did giue My wedlocke faith to chosen frend , Then leaue to sewe , since that you see Your hap debarres your hope from mee . I vse not oft to make reply To lines that yeelde such wanton store , Let this suffice , that I deny , And after this , looke for no more , My choise is bound , by lawfull band , My oath is past , and that shall stand . Alway the same Auisa .

CANT. XLII . D. H. to chast Auisa perpetuall constancy . THis is inough : now I haue done , I thinke indeed you do not faine , As others haue , that haue beene wonne In shorter space , with lesser paine , And sith you will not yeeld in deed To these my wordes , yet take good heed . My former loue was onely lust , As you in deed did truly say , And they , such loue that rashly trust , Do plant the plot of swift decay : But they whom Grace doth make so wise , To high renowne , will surely ryse . If you had had a waxye hart , O violata , vale , vale ô violata , placebas , Inuiolata noces nunc violata mihi , Vulteius . That would haue melt at hot desyre , Or chaffye thoughtes that could haue start , And yeeld to burne at euery fyre , What ere I did , or sayd before , I should haue thought you but a whore . Though saylers loue the common Port , Sic virgo dum intacta manet , tum chara suis , sed cum amisit polluto corpore storem . Nec pueris iucunda manet , nec chara puellis . Catullus . As safest harbour where to rest , Yet wise men seeke the strongest fort , And paper castells most detest : Men cannot loue such as they know , Will yeeld at sight of euery blow . But now my loue by vertue bound , No stormie blastes can make it quaile , Your constant mind a frend hath found , Whose honest loue shall neuer faile , A faithfull frend in honest loue , Whom lewd affections shall not moue . If you this wanton fault forgiue , No time in me shall euer find Such lewd attemptes , while I do liue , Now that I know your constant mynd , My pen doth write , my hart hath swore , My tounge such speech shall vse no more . A thousand tymes I loue no more , Then if I had my purpose wonne , Of common loue I make no store , But leaue it there where I begunne , What oddes there is , now you may proue , Twixt wicked lust and honest loue . Now grant I pray this last request , That fraudlesse hart doth frendly send , That if my fayth deserue it best , Accept me for your honest frend : And if I seeke your spoile , or shame , Then raze me out , and blot my name . Andif I shall this fauour find , Then weare this ring , though you be loth , As token of my simple mynd , And perfect band of faithfull oath : The posye is , No frend to faith That will remaine , till both our death . Esteeme not this a painted bait , Or golden ball cast to deceaue : If I do meane such lewd desait , Let God my soule in tormentes leaue : I say no more , but thus I end , In honest loue your faithful frend . D. H.

AVISA . to D. H. CANT , XLIII . YOu know that I haue laid my rest , From which my mind shall neuer swerue , If all be true that you protest , Then shall you find , as you deserue : All hidden truth tyme will bewraie , This is as much as I can saie . Alway the same Auisa .

CANT. XLIIII . Henrico Willobego . Italo-Hispalensis .

H. W. being sodenly infected with the contagion of a fantasticall fit , at the first sight of A , pyneth a while in secret griefe , at length not able any longer to indure the burning heate of so feruent a humour , bewrayeth the secresy of his disease vnto his familiar frend W. S. who not long before had tryed the curtesy of the like passion , and was now newly recouered of the like infection ; yet finding his frend let bloud in the same vaine , he took pleasure for a tyme to see him bleed , & in steed of stopping the issue , he inlargeth the wound , with the sharpe rasor of a willing conceit , perswading him that he thought it a matter very easy to be compassed , & no doubt with payne , diligence & some cost in time to be obtayned . Thus this miserable comforter comforting his frend with an impossibilitie , eyther for that he now would secretly laugh at his frends folly , that had giuen occasion not long before vnto others to laugh at his owne , or because he would see whether an other could play his part better then himselfe , & in vewing a far off the course of this louing Comedy , he determined to see whether it would sort to a happier end for this new actor , then it did for the old player . But at length this Comedy was like to haue growen to a Tragedy , by the weake & feeble estate that H. W. was brought vnto , by a desperate vewe of an impossibility of obtaining his purpose , til Time & Necessity , being his best Phisitions brought him a plaster , if not to heale , yet in part to ease his maladye . In all which discourse is liuely represented the vnrewly rage of vnbrydeled fancy , hauing the raines to roue at liberty , with the dyuers & sundry changes of affections & temptations , which Will , set loose from Reason , can deuise . &c.

H. W. WHat sodaine chance or change is this , That doth bereaue my quyet rest ? What surly cloud eclipst my blisse , What sprite doth rage within my brest ? Such fainty qualmes I neuer found , Till first I saw this westerne ground . Can change of ayre complexions change , And strike the sences out of frame ? Though this be true , yet this is strange , Sith I so lately hither came : And yet in body cannot find So great a change as in my mynd . My lustlesse limmes do pyne away , Because my hart is dead within , All liuely heat I feele decay , And deadly cold his roome doth win , My humors all are out of frame , I frize amid'st the burning flame . I haue the feauer Ethicke right , I burne within , consume without , And hauing melted all my might , Then followes death , without all doubt : O fearefull foole , that know my greefe , Yet sew and seeke for no releefe . I know the tyme , I know the place , Both when and where my eye did vew That nouell shape , that frendly face , That so doth make my hart to rew , O happy tyme if she inclyne , If not , O wourth theese lucklesse eyne . I loue the seat where she did sit , I kisse the grasse , where she did tread , Me thinkes I see that face as yet , And eye , that all these turmoyles breed , I enuie that this seat , this ground , Such frendly grace and fauour found . I dream't of late , God grant that dreame Protend my good , that she did meete Me in this greene by yonder streame , And smyling did me frendly greete : Where wandring dreames be iust or wrong , I mind to try ere it be long . But yonder comes my faythfull frend , That like assaultes hath often tryde , On his aduise I will depend , Where I shall winne , or be denyde , And looke what counsell he shall giue , That will I do , where dye or liue .

CANT. XLV . W. S. WEll met , frend Harry , what 's the cause You looke so pale with Lented cheeks ? Your wanny face & sharpened nose Shew plaine , your mind some thing mislikes , If you will tell me what it is , I le helpe to mend what is amisse . What is she , man , that workes thy woe , And thus thy tickling fancy moue ? Thy drousie eyes , & sighes do shoe , This new disease proceedes of loue , Tell what she is that witch't thee so , I sweare it shall no farder go . A heauy burden wearieth one , Which being parted then in twaine , Seemes very light , or rather none , And boren well with little paine : The smothered flame , too closely pent , Burnes more extreame for want of vent . So sorrowes shrynde in secret brest , Attainte the hart with hotter rage , Then griefes that are to frendes exprest , Whose comfort may some part asswage : If I a frend , whose faith is tryde , Let this request not be denyde . Excessiue griefes good counsells want , And cloud the sence from sharpe conceits ; No reason rules , where sorrowes plant , And folly feedes , where fury fretes , Tell what she is , and you shall see , What hope and help shall come from mee .

CANT. XLVI . H. W. SEest yonder howse , where hanges the badge Of Englands Saint , when captaines cry Victorious land , to conquering rage , Loe , there my hopelesse helpe doth ly : And there that frendly foe doth dwell , That makes my hart thus rage and swell ,

CANT. XLVII . W. S. WEll , say no more : I know thy griefe , And face from whence these flames aryse , It is not hard to fynd reliefe , If thou wilt follow good aduyse : She is no Saynt , She is no Nonne , I thinke in tyme she may be wonne . At first repulse you must not faint , 〈◊〉 vetera to● . Nor flye the field though she deny You twise or thrise , yet manly bent , Againe you must , and still reply : When tyme permits you not to talke , Then let your pen and fingers walke . Apply her still with dyuers thinges , ( For giftes the wysest will deceaue ) ●unera ( cre● mihi ) pla●nt homi●sque Deosque . Sometymes with gold , sometymes with ringes , No tyme nor fit occasion leaue , Though coy at first she seeme and wielde , These toyes in tyme will make her yielde . Looke what she likes ; that you must loue , And what she hates , you must detest , Where good or bad , you must approue , The wordes and workes that please her best : If she be godly , you must sweare , That to offend you stand in feare . You must commend her louing face , For women ioy in beauties praise , Wicked wiles ●o deceaue witles women . You must admire her sober grace , Her wisdome and her vertuous wayes , Say , t' was her wit & modest shoe , That made you like and loue her so . You must be secret , constant , free , Your silent sighes & trickling teares , Let her in secret often see , Then wring her hand , as one that feares To speake , then wish she were your wife , And last desire her saue your life . When she doth laugh , you must be glad , And watch occasions , tyme and place , When she doth frowne , you must be sad , Let sighes & sobbes request her grace : Sweare that your loue is trulyment , So she in tyme must needes relent .

CANT. XLVIII . H. W. THe whole to sicke good counsell giue , Which they themselues cannot performe , Your wordes do promise sweet reliefe , To saue my ship from drowning storme : But hope is past , and health is spent , For why my mynd is Mal-content . The flowring hearbes , the pleasant spring , That deckes the fieldes with vernant hew , The harmelesse birdes , thatsweetly sing , To dispaire of good successe in the beginning of any action , is alwayes a secret & most certaine forewarning of ill successe , that indeed doth often follow . My hidden griefes , do still renew : The ioyes that others long to see , Is it that most tormenteth mee . I greatly doubt , though March be past , Where I shall see that wished May , That can recure that balefull blast , Whose cold dispaire wrought my decay : My hopelesse cloudes , that neuer cleere , Presage great sorrowes very neere . I mirth did once , and musicke loue , Which both as now , I greatly hate : What vncouth sprite my hart doth moue , To loath the thing , I lou'd so late ? My greatest ease in deepest mone , Is when I walke my selfe alone . Where thinking on my hopelesse hap , My trickling teares , like riuers flow , Yet fancy lulles me in her lap , And telles me , lyfe from death shall grow : Thus flattering hope makes me belieue ; My griefe in tyme shall feele relieue . Good fortune helpes the ventering wight , Audaces fortuna iuuat , timidosque repellit . That hard attempts dare vndertake : But they that shun the doubtful fight , As coward drudges , doth forsake : Come what there will , I meane to try , Wher winne , or lose , I can but dye .

CANT. XLIX . H. W. the first assault . PArdon ( sweet wench ) my fancies fault , If I offend to shew my smart , Your face hath made such fierce assault , And battred so my fencelesse hart : That of my foe , my lyfe to saue , For grace I am constraind to craue . The raging Lyon neuer rendes The yeelding pray , that prostrate lyes , No valiant captayne euer bendes His force against surrendering cryes : Here I surrender roome and right , And yeeld the fort at captaines sight . You are the chieftaine , that haue layd This heauie siege to strengthlesse fort , And fancy that my will betrayd , Hath lent dispaire his strongest port : Your glauncing eyes as Cannon shot , Haue pearst my hart , and freedome got . When first I saw that frendly face , Though neuer seene before that day , That wit , that talke , that sober grace , In secret hart thus did I say : God prosper this , for this is she , That ioy or woe must bring to me . A thousand fewtures I haue seene , For Trauelers change , & choyse shall see , In Fraunce , in Flaunders , & in Spaine , Yet none , nor none could conquere mee : Till now I sawe this face of thyne , That makes my wittes are none of myne . I often said , yet there is one , But where , or what I could not tell , Whose sight my sence would ouercome , I feard it still , I knew it well , And now I know you are the She , That was ordaind to vanquish me .

CANT. L. AVISA . WHat song is this that you do sing , What tale is this that you do tell , What newes is this that you do bring , Or what you meane I know not well ? If you will speake , pray speake it playne , Lest els perhaps you lose your payne . My mynd surpris'd with houshold cares , Tendes not darke riddles to vntwyne . My state surcharg'd with great affares , To Idle talke can lend no tyme ; For if your speeches tend to loue , Your tonge in vaine such sutes will moue . In greenest grasse the winding snake , With poysoned sting is soonest found , A cowardes tongue makes greatest cracke , The emptiest caske yeeldes greatest sound , Idlenesse the mother of all foolish wannesse . Dauid being idle fell to strange lust . Quaeritur Egistus , quare sit factus Adulter . To hidden hurt , the bird to bring , The fouler doth most sweetly sing . If wandering rages haue possest Your rouing mynd at randame bent ; If idle qualmes from too much rest ; Fond fancyes to your lust haue sent : Cut off the cause that breedes your smart , Then will your sicknesse soone depart . The restles mynd that reason wantes , In prompt● causa est : Desidiosus erat . Noblemen gentlemen . and Captaynes by idlenesse fall to all kynd of vices . Is like the ship that lackes a sterne , The hart beset with follyes plantes , At wisdomes lore repynes to learne : Some seeke and fynd what fancy list , But after wish that they had mist. Who loues to tread vnknowen pathes , Doth often wander from his way , Who longes to laue in brauest bathes , Doth wash by night , and wast by day : Take heed betyme , beware the pryse Of wicked lust , if you be wyse .

CANT. LI. H. W VNwonted syking breedes my loue , And loue the welspring of my griefe , This fancy fixt none can remoue , None send redresse , none giue reliefe , But onely you , whose onely sight Hath fors't me to this pyning plight . Loue oft doth spring from due desart , As louing cause of true effect , But myne proceeds from wounded hart , As scholler to a nouell sect : I bare that lyking , few haue bore , I loue , that neuer lou'd before . I loue , though doubtfull of successe , As blindmen grope to try the way ; Yet still I loue because I gesse , You loue , for loue cannot denay , Except you spring of sauadge kynd , Whome no desartes , nor loue can bynd . Of all the graces that excell , And vertues that are cheefly best , A constant loue doth beare the bell , And makes his owner euer blest : How blame you then the faithfull loue , That hath his praise from God aboue . Can you withstand what fates ordayne ? Can you reproue dame Natures frame ? Where natures ioyne , shall will disclaime ? Acquite my loue , beare they the blame , That snuffe at faith , & looke so coy , And count true loue but for a toy . If fortune say it shal be so , Then though you lyke , yet shall you yeeld , Say what you list , you cannot go Vnconquerd thus from Cupids field , That loue that none could euer haue , I giue to you , and yours I craue ,

CANT. LII AVISA . WEll , you are bent I see , to try The vtmost list of follies race , Your fancy hath no power to fly The luring baite of flattering grace , The fish that leapes & neuer lookes , Fyndes death vnwares in secret hookes . You say you loue , yet shew no cause , Of this your loue , or rather lust , Or whence this new affection groes Which though vntryde , yet we must trust , Dry reeds that quickly yeeld to burne , Soone out to flamelesse cinders turne . Such raging loue in rangling mates , Is quickly found , and sooner lost ; Such deepe deceate in all estates , That spares no care , no payne nor cost : With flattering tongues , & golden giftes , To dryue poore women to their shiftes . Examine well , & you shall see Your truthlesse treason tearmed loue , What cause haue you to fancy mee , That neuer yet had tyme to proue , What I haue beene , nor what I am , Where worthie loue , or rather shame ? This loue that you to straungers bare , Is like to head strong horse and mule , That ful-fed nyes on euery mare , Whose lust outleapes the lawfull rule , For here is seene your constant loue , Whome strange aspects so quickly moue . Besides you know I am a wife , Not free , but bound by plighted oath , Can loue remaine , where filthy life Hath staind the soile , where vertue gro'th ? Can loue indure , where faith is fled ? Can Roses spring , whose roote is dead ? True loue is constant in her choise , But if I yeeld to chuse againe , Then may you say with open voice , This is her vse , this is her vaine , She yeelds to all , how can you than Loue her that yeeldes to euery man ?

CANT. LIII . H. W. IF feare and sorrow sharpe the wit , And tip the tongue with sweeter grace , Then will & style , must finely fit , To paint my griefe , and waile my case : Sith my true loue is counted lust , And hope is rackt in spitefull dust . The cause that made me loue so soone , And feedes my mind with inward smart , Springs not from Starres , nor yet the Moone , But closly lies in secret hart : And if you aske , I can not tell , Nor why , nor how , this hap befell . If birth or beautie could haue wrought , In lustlesse hart this loues effect , Some fairer farre my loue haue sought , Whose louing lookes I did reiect . If now I yeeld without assault , Count this my fortune or my fault . You are a wife , and you haue swore , You will be true . Yet what of this ? Did neuer wife play false before , Nor for her pleasure strike amis ? Will you alone be constant still , When none are chast , nor euer will ? A man or woman first may chuse The loue that they may after loth ; Wo can denie but such may vse A second choice , to pleasure both ? No fault to change the old for new ; So to the second they be trew . Your husband is a worthlesse thing , That no way can content your mind , That no way can that pleasure bring , Your flowring yeares desire to find : This I will count my chiefest blisse , If I obtaine , that others misse . Ther 's nothing gotten to be coye , The purer stampe you must detest , Now is your time of greatest ioye , Then loue the friend that loues you best , This I will count my chiefest blisse , If I obtaine that others misse .

CANT. LIIII . AVISA . THat others misse , you would obtaine , And want of this doth make you sad , I sorrow that you take such paine , To seeke for that , will not be had , Your filed skill the power doth want , Within this plot such trees to plant . Though some there be , that haue done ill , And for their fancie broke their faith : Yet doe not thinke that others will , That feare of shame more then of death : A spotlesse name is more to me , Then wealth , then friends , then life can be . Are all vnconstant , all vnsound ? Will none performe their sworen vow ? Yet shall you say , that you haue found , A chast , and constant wife I trow : And you shall see , when all is doone , Where all will yeeld , and all be woone . Though you haue bin at common schoole , And enterd plaints in common place ; Yet you wil proue your selfe a foole , To iudge all women void of grace : I doubt not but you will be brought , Soone to repent this wicked thought . Your second change let them alow , That list mislike their primer choice , I lou'd him first , I loue him now , To whom I gaue my yeelding voice , My faith and loue , I will not giue To mortall man , while he doth liue . What loue is this , that bids me hate , The man whom nature bids me loue ? What loue is this , that sets debate , Twixt man and wife ? but here I proue : Though smothed words seeme very kind , Yet all proceed from deuilish mind .

CANT. LV. H. W. FRom deuilish mind ? well wanton well , You thinke your strength is very sure , You thinke all women to excell , And all temptations to indure . These glorious braggs shew but your pride : For all will yeeld , if they be tride . You are ( I hope ) as others bee , A woman , made of flesh and blood , Amongst them all , will you goe free , When all are ill , will you be good ? Assure your selfe , I do not faine , Requite my loue with loue againe . Let me be hangd if you be such , As you pretend in outward shoe : Yet I commend your wisdome much , Which mou'd me first to loue you so : Where men no outward shewes detect , Suspicious minds can nil suspect . But to the matter ; tell me true , Where you your fancie can incline , To yeeld your loue , for which I sue , As fortune hath intangled mine : For well I know , it 's nothing good , To striue against the raging flood . What you mislike , I will amend , If yeares I want , why I will stay , My goods and life here I will spend , And helpe you still in what I may : For though I seeme a headlong youth , Let time be triall of my truth . Your name by me shall not be crackt , But let this tongue from out my iawes , Be rent , and bones to peeces rackt , If I your secrets doe disclose , Take good aduisement what you say , This is my good , or dismall day .

CANT. LVI . AVISA . YEs , so I will , you may be bold , Nor will I vse such strange delaies ; But that you shall be quickly told , How you shall frame your wandring waies : If you will follow mine aduise , Doubt not but you shall soone be wise . To loue , excepting honest loue , I can not yeeld , assure your mind ; Then leaue this frutelesse sute to moue , Least like to Sysyphus you find , With endlesse labour , gainelesse paine , To role the stone that turnes againe . You want no yeares , but rather wit , And dew forecast in that you seeke , To make your choice that best may fit , And this is most that I mislieke ; If you be free , liue where you list , But still beware of , Had I wist . Serue God , and call to him for grace , That he may stay your slipperie slides , From treading out that sinfull trace , That leades where endlesse sorrowe bides , Thus shall you wisely guide your feete ; Though youth and wisedome seldome meete . And if you find , you haue no gift , To liue a chast and matelesse life , Yet feare to vse vnlawfull shift , But marry with some honest wife , With whom you may contented liue , And wandring mind from folly driue . Fly present pleasure that doth bring Insuing sorrow , paine and griefe ; Fuggi quel piacer presente , che ti da dolor futuro . Of death beware the poys'ned sting , That hatcheth horror sance reliefe , Take this of me , and in the end I shall be thought your chiefest frend .

CANT. LVII . H. W. IF then the welspring of my ioy , A floud of woe , in fine become , If loue ingender loues annoy , Then farewell life , my glasse is runne : If you thus constant still remaine ; Then must I die , or liue in paine . Thrice happie they , whose ioyned harts , Vnited wils haue linckt in one , Whose eies discerne the due desarts , The griping griefe , and grieuous grone , That faith doth breed in setled mind , As fancies are by fates inclind . And shall I role the restlesse stone ? And must I proue the endlesse paine ? In curelesse care shall I alone , Consume with griefe , that yeelds me gaine ? If so I curse these eies of mine , That first beheld that face of thine . Your will must with my woe dispence , Your face the founder of my smart , That pleasant looke fram'd this offence , These thrilling gripes that gall my hart , Sith you this wound , and hurt did giue , You must consent to yeeld relieue . How can I cease , while fancie guides The restlesse raines of my desire ? Can reason rule , where folly bides ? Can wit inthrald to will retire ? I little thought , I should haue mist , I neuer feard of , Had I wist . Let old men pray , let setled heads Inthrall their necks to wedlocke band , Shrend golden gyues , who euer weds With pleasant paine , shall take in hand : But I will be your faithful frend , If health by hope you yeeld to send .

CANT. LVIII . AVISA . WHat filthy folly , raging lust , What beastly blindnes fancy breeds ? As though the Lord had not accurst , With vengeance due , the sinfull deeds ? Though vaine-led youth with pleasure swell , Yet marke these words that I shall tell . Who so with filthy pleasure burnes ; His sinfull flesh with fierie flakes Gen. 38. 24 Whoremoungers burnt . Must be consum'd ; whose soule returnes To endlesse paine in burning lakes . You seeme by this , to wish me well , To teach me tread the path to hell . Call you this ( Loue ) that bringeth sin , And sowes the seeds of heauie cheere ? If this be loue , I pray begin , To hate the thing I loue so deere ; I loue no loue of such a rate , Nor fancie that , which God doth hate . But what saith he that long had tryde Of harlots all the wanton slights ; Beware least that your hart be tyde , Prouer. 5. 3. To sond affects by wanton sights : Their wandring eies , and wanton lookes Catch fooles as fish , with painted hookes . Their lippes with oyle and honie flow , Their tongs are fraught with flattering guile ; Amidst these ioyes great sorrowes grow ; For pleasures flourish but a while , Their feete to death , their steps to hell , Do swiftly slide , that thus do mell . Then flie this dead and dreadfull loue , This signe of Gods reuenging ire ; Let loue of God such lust remoue , And quench the flames of foule desire : If you will count me for your frend , You must both workes and words amend .

CANT LXI .

With this bitter reply of Auisa , H. W. being somewhat daunted , yet not altogether whithout hope , went home to his house , and there secretly in a melancolike passion wrote these verses following .

H. W. To AVISA my friendly foe . THe busie Gnat about the candle , houering still doth flie , Sixaine , The slimie Fish about the bayt , still wauering doth lie , The fearefull Mouse about the trap doth often try his strength , Vntill both Gnat , and Fish and Mouse , be taken at the length , Euen so vnhappie I , do like my greatest baine , Vnlesse you do with speede , release my mortall paine . The light foote hart desires the waters brooke , Quatraine . The dogge most sicke the greenest grasse doth craue . The wounded wight for surgeon still doth looke , Vntill both hart , and dogge , and wight their medicine haue : But I with griefe th' vnhappiest of them all , Do still delight to be my enemies thrall . Mine enemie I say , though yet my sweetest frend , If of my sorrowes I may see some speedie holsome end . Deuxaine . FINIS . Chi la dura , la Vince .

CANT. LXII . AVISA . her reply to H. W. THe busie Gnat for want of wit , Doth sindge his wings in burning flame , The Fish with baite will headlong flit , Till she be choked with the same ; So you with Gnat and Fish will play , Till flame and foode worke your decay . The heedlesse Mouse , that tries the trap , In hast to reach her harts desire , Doth quickly find such quainte mishap , That barres her strength from free retire , So you will neuer ceasse to craue , Till you haue lost that now you haue . The hart , the dogge , the wounded wight , For water , grasse , and Surgeon call , Their griefes and cures , are all but light , But your conceite surpast them all ; Except you change your wanton mind , You shall no ease , nor comfort find . Alway the same Auisa .

CANT. LXIII . H. W. prosecuteth his sute . WIll not your laughty stomacke stoupe ? Will not this selfe conceite come downe ? As haggard louing mirthlesse coupe , At friendly lure doth checke and frowne ? Blame not in this the Faulkners skill , But blame the Hawkes vnbridled will . Your sharp replies , your frowning cheare , To absent lines , and present vew , Doth aie redouble trembling feare , And griping griefes do still renew , Your face to me my sole reliefe , My sight to you your onely griefe . O lucklesse wretch , what hap had I , To plant my loue in such a soile ? What furie makes me thus relie On her that seekes my vtter spoile ? O Gods of loue what signe is this , That in the first , I first should mis ? And can you thus increase my woe , And will you thus prolong my paine ? Canst kill the hart that loues thee so , Canst quit my loue with foule disdaine ? And if thou canst , woe worth the place , Where first I saw that flattering face . And shall my folly proue it trew , That hastie pleasure doubleth paine , Shall griefe rebound , where ioye grew ? Of faithfull hart is this the gaine ? Me thinks for all your graue aduise , ( For giue my thought ) you are not wise . Would God I could restraine my loue , Sith you to loue me can not yeeld , But I alas can not remoue My fancie , though I die in feeld ; My life doth on your loue depend , My loue and life at once must end .

CANT. LXIIII. AVISA . WHat witlesse errors do possesse The wretched minds of louing fooles , That breathlesse runne to such distresse , That liuely heate fond sorrowe cooles ? They reke not where they stand or fall , Deny them loue , take life and all . It seemes a death to change their mind , Or alter once their foolish will , Such od conceites they seeke to find , As may their childish fancies fill , It makes me smile thus , now and then , To see the guise of foolish men . I can not stoupe to wandring lure ; My mind is one , and still the same ; While breath , while life , while daies indure , I will not yeeld to worke my shame , Then if you striue and stirre in vaine , Blame but the fruites of idle braine . If I do sometimes looke awrie , As loth to see your blobered face , And loth to heare a yong man crie , Correct for shame this childish race , And though you weepe and waile to mee , Yet let not all these follies see . Good Harry leaue these raging toyes , That thus from restlesse fancie flow , Vnfit for men , not meete for boyes , And let 's a while talke wisely now ; If that you loue me as you say , Then cease such madnes to bewray . If honest loue could breed content , And frame a liking to your will , I would not sticke to giue consent , To like you so , and loue you still , But while lust leades your loue awrie , Assure your selfe , I will denie .

CANT. LXV . H. W. ANd is it lust that welds my loue ? Or is it but your fond surmise ? Will you condemne , before you proue ? How can I thinke you to be wise ? O faithfull hart , yet thrice accurst , That art misdeemd thus at the first . If lust did rule my restlesse hart , If onely lust did beare the sway , I quickly could asswage my smart , With choise , and change , for euery day , You should not laugh to see me weepe , If lust were it that strake so deepe . And yet at first , before I knew , What vaine it was that bled so sore , Wher lust or loue , to proue it trew , I tooke a salue that still before Was wont to helpe , I chose me one , With whom I quencht my lust alone . Yet this ( sweete hart ) could not suffise , Nor any way content my mind , A bad argument to proue good loue . I felt new qualmes , and new arise , And stronger still , and strong I find , By this , I thus doe plainely proue , It is not lust , but faithfull loue . And yet to proue my loue more sure , And sith you will not false your faith , This pining plight I will indure , Till death do stop your husbands breath ; To haue me then if you will say , I will not marrie , till that day . If you will giue your full consent , When God shall take your husbands life , That then you will be well content , To be my spouse and louing wife , I will be ioyfull as before , And till that time , will craue no more .

CANT , LXVI . AVISA . NO more ; no more , too much of this , And is mine ynch become an ell ? If thus you writh my words amis , I must of force , bid you farwell , You shew in this your louing bent , To catch at that , I neuer ment ; I thought at first , ( but this my though I must correct ; ) that simple loue , In guilles hart these fits had wrought . But I ; too simple I , now proue , That vnder shew of great good will , My harts delight you seeke to spill . He loues me well , that tils a trap , Of deepe deceite , and deadly baine , In dreadfull daungers thus to wrap His friend by baites of flering traine : Though flattering tongues can paint it braue Your words do shew , what loue you haue . I must consent , and you will stay My husbands death . Obtaining this , You thinke I could not say you Nay : Nor of your other purpose mis , You are deceiu'd , and you shall trie , That I such faith , and friends defie . Such fained , former , faithlesse plot I most detest , and tell you plaine , If now I were to cast my lot , With free consent to chuse againe , Of all the men I euer knew , I would not make my choice of you . Let this suffice , and do not stay On hope of that which will not be , Then cease your sute , go where you may , Vaine is your trust , to hope on me . My choice is past , my hart is bent , While that remaines to be content . Now hauing tract the winding trace Of false resemblance , giue me leaue , From this to shew a stranger grace , Then heretofore , you did perceaue , Gainst frendlesse loue if I repyne , The fault is yours , & none of myne .

CANT. LXVII . H. W. I Will not wish , I cannot vow , Thy hurt , thy griefe , though thou disdaine , Though thou refuse , I know not how , To quite my loue with loue againe : Since I haue swore to be thy frend , As I began , so will I end . Sweare thou my death , worke thou my woe , Conspire with greefe to stop my breath , Yet still thy frend , & not thy foe I will remayne vntill my death : Choose whome thou wilt , I will resigne , If loue , or faith , be like to mine . But while I wretch too long haue lent My wandering eyes to gase on thee . I haue both tyme , & trauell spent In vaine , in vaine : and now I see , They do but frutelesse paine procure , To haggard kytes that cast the lure . When I am dead , yet thou mayst boast , Thou hadst a frend , a faithfull frend , That liuing liu'd to loue thee most , And lou'd thee still vnto his end : Though thou vnworthy , with disdaine Did'st force him liue , and dye in paine . Now may I sing , now sigh , and say , Farewell my lyfe , farewell my ioy , Now mourne by night , now weepe by day , Loue , too much loue breedes myne annoy : What can I wish , what should I craue , Sith that is gon , that I should haue . Though hope be turned to dispaire , Yet giue my tongue leaue to lament , Beleeue me now , my hart doth sweare , My lucklesse loue was truly ment : Thou art too proud , I say no more , Too stout , and wo is me therefore . Felice chi puo .

CANT. LXVIII .

Auisa hauing heard this patheticall fancy of H. W. and seeing the teares trill downe his cheekes , as halfe angry to see such passionate follie , in a man that should haue gouerment , with a frowning countenance turned from him , without farder answere , making silence her best reply , and following the counsell of the wise , not to answere a foole in his folly lest he grow too foolish , returted quite from him , and left him alone . But he departing home , and not able by reason to rule the raginge fume of this phantasticall fury , cast himselfe vppon his bed , & refusing both foode & comfort for many daies together , fell at length into such extremity of passionate affections , that as many as saw him , had great doubt of his health , but more of his wittes , yet , after a long space a bsence , hauing procured some respite from his sorrowes , he takes his pen & wrate , as followeth .

H. W LYke wounded Deare , whose tender sydes are bath'd in blood , From deadly wound , by fatall hand & forked shaft : So bleedes my pearced hart , for so you thinke it good , With cruelty to kill , that which you got by craft : You still did loth my lyfe , my death shall be your gaine , To dye to do you good , I shall not thinke it paine . My person could not please , my talke was out of frame , Though hart and eye could neuer brooke my loathed sight , Yet loue doth make me say , to keepe you out of blame , The fault was only mine , and that you did but right When I am gon , I hope my ghost shall shew you plaine , That I did truly loue , and that I did not faine . Now must I fynd the way to waile while lyfe doth last , Yet hope I soone to see , the end of dolefull dayes ; When floudes of flowing feares , and creeping cares are past , Then shall I leaue to sing , and write these pleasant layes : For now I loth the foode , and bloud that lendes me breath , I count all pleasures paine that keepe me from my death . To darke and heauy shades , I now will take my flight , Where nether tongue nor eye shall tell or see my fall , That there I may disiect these dregges of thy dispight , And purge the clotted blood , that now my hart doth gall : In secret silence so , Perforce shall be my song , Till truth make you confesse that you haue done me wrong . Gia speme spenta . H. W.

Auisa refusing both to come or send him any aunswere , after a long & melancholike deliberation , he wrate againe so as followeth .

CANT. LXIX H. W. THough you refuse to come or send , Yet this I send , though I do stay , Vnto these lynes some credit lend , And marke it well what they shall say , They cannot hurt , then reade them all , They do but shew their maisters fall . Though you disdaine to shew remorce , You were the first and onely wight , Whose fawning features did inforce My will to runne beyond my might : In femall face such force we see , To captiue them , that erst were free . Your onely word was then a law Vnto my mynd , if I did sinne , Forgiue this sinne , but then I saw My bane or blisse did first beginne , See what my fancy coulde haue donne , Your loue at first , if I had wonne . All fortune flat I had defyde , To choice and change defyance sent , No frowning fates could haue denyde , My loues pursute , & willing bent , This was my mynd , if I had found Your loue as myne , but halfe so sound . Then had I bad the hellish rout , To frounce aloft their wrinckled front , And cursed haggs that are so stout , I boldly would haue bid auaunt , Let earth and ayre haue fround their fill , So I had wrought my wished will . Noraging storme , nor whirling blast , My setled heart could haue annoyd , No sky with thundering cloudes orecast Had hurt , if you I had enioyd , Now hope is past , loe you may see , How euery toy tormenteth mee . Chi cerca troua .

CANT. LXX . H. W. WIth oken planckes to plane the waues , What Neptunes rage could I haue fear'd To quell the gulfe that rudely raues , What perill could haue once appear'd ? But now that I am left alone ; Bare thoughts enforce my hart to grone . With thee to passe the chamfered groundes , What force or feare could me restraine ? With thee to chase the Scillan houndes , Me thinkes it were a pleasant paine , This was my thought , this is my loue , Which none but death , can yet remoue . It then behoues my fainting sprite , To lofty skyes returne againe , Sith onely death bringes me delite , Which louing liue in curelesse paine , What hap to strangers is assind , If knowne frendes doo such fauour find . How often haue my frendly mates My louing errours laught to scorne , How oft for thee found I debates , Which now I wish had beene forborne : But this & more would I haue donne , If I thy fauour could haue wonne . I saw your gardens passing syne , With pleasant flowers lately dect , With Couslops and with Eglentine , When wofull Woodbyne lyes reiect : Yet these in weedes and briars meet , Although they seeme to smell so sweet . The dainty Daysy brauely springes , And cheesest honour seemes to get , I enuy not such frendly thinges , But blesse the hand that these haue set : Yet let the Hysope haue his place , That doth deserue a speciall grace . Viui , Chi vince .

CANT. LXXI . H. W. BVt now farewell , your selfe shall see , An odd exchange of frends in tyme , you may perhappes then wish for mee , And waile too late this cruell cryme : Yea wish your selfe perhaps beshrewd , That you to me such rigor shewd . I cannot force you for to like , Where cruell fancy doth rebell , I must some other fortune seeke , But where or how I cannot tell : And yet I doubt where you shall find In all your life so sure a friend . Of pleasant dayes the date is donne , My carcase pyneth in conceat , The lyne of lyfe his race hath runne , Expecting sound of deathes retreat : Yet would I liue to loue thee still , And do thee good against thy will . How can I loue , how can I liue , Whil'st that my hart hath lost his hope , Dispaire abandons sweet reliefe , My loue , and life haue lost their scope : Yet would I liue thy feature to behold , Yet would I loue , if I might be so bold . My griefe is greene , and neuer springes , These verses exceed mea●ure , to shew that his affec●ions keepe no ●ompasse , and ●is exceeding ●oue . My sorrowe full of deadly sap , Sweet death remoue these bitter thinges , Giue end to hard and cruell hap : Yet would I liue , if I might see , My life , or limmes might pleasure thee . Farewell that sweet and pleasant walke , The witnesse of my faith and wo , That oft hath heard our frendly talke , And giu'n me leaue my griefe to show , O pleasant path , where I could see No crosse at all but onely shee . Il fine , fa il tutto .

CANT. LXXII . H. W. LIke silly Bat , that loues the darke , And seldome brookes the wished light , Obscurely so I seeke the marke , That aye doth vanish from my sight , Yet shall she say , I died her frend , Though by disdaine she sought mine end . Faine would I cease , and hold my tong , But loue and sorrow set me on , Needes must I plaine of spitefull wrong , Sith hope and health will both be gon , When branch from inward rind is fled , The barke doth wish the body dead . If euer man were borne to woe , I am the man , you know it well , My chiefest friend , my greatest foe , And heauen become my heauie hell , This do I feele , this do I find : But who can loose , that God will bind ? For since the day , O dismall day , I first beheld that smiling face , My fancie made her choice straight way , And bad all other loues giue place , Yea since I saw thy louely sight , I frize and frie , twixt ioye and spight . Where fond suspect doth keepe the gate , There trust is chased from the dore , Then faith and truth will come too late , Where falshod will admit no more ; Then naked faith and loue must yeeld , For lacke offence , and flie the feeld . Then easier were it for to chuse , To crale against the craggie hill , Then sutes , then sighs , then words to vse , To change a froward womans will , Then othes and vowes are allin vaine , And truth a toye , where fancies raigne . Ama , Chi ti ama .

CANT. LXXIII . H. W. MY tongue , my hand , my ready hart , That spake , that felt , that freely thought , My loue , thy limbes , my inward smart , Haue all performed what they ought , These all do loue you yet , and shall , And when I change , let vengeance fall . Shall I repent , I euer saw That face , that so can frowne on mee ? How can I wish , when fancies draw Mine eies to wish , and looke for thee ? Then though you do denie my right , Yet bar me not from wished sight . And yet I craue , I know not what , Perchance my presence breeds your paine , And if I were perswaded that , I would in absence still remaine , You shall not feele the smallest griefe , Although it were to saue my life , Ah woe is me , the case so stands , That sencelesse papers plead my wo , They can not weepe , nor wring their hands , But say perhaps , that I did so , And though these lines for mercie craue , Who can on papers pittie haue ? O that my griefes , my sighs , my teares , Might plainely muster in your vew , Then paine , not pen , then faith , not feares , Should vouch my vowes , and writings trew , This wishing shewes a wofull want , Of that which you by right should grant . Now fare thou well , whose wel-fare brings Such lothsome feare , and ill to me . Yet heere thy friend this farwell sings , Though heauie word a farwell be . Against all hope , if I hope still , Blame but abundance of good will . Grand Amore , grand Dolore , Inopem me copia fecit . H. W.

CANT , LXXIIII . AVISA . her last reply . YOur long Epistle I haue read , Great store of words , and little wit , ( For want of wit , these fancies bred ) To aunswere all I thinke not sit , But in a word , you shall perceaue , How kindly I will take my leaue . When you shall see sweete Lillies grow , And flourish in the frozen yse , When ebbing tides shall leaue to flow , And mountaines to the skies shall ryse , When roring Seas do cease to raue , Then shall you gaine the thing you craue . When Fish as haggard Hawkes shall flie , When Seas shall flame , and Sunne shall freese , When mortall men shall neuer die , And earth shall yeeld , nor herbe nor trees , Then shall your words my mind remoue , And I accept your proffered loue . When Thames shall leaue his channell drie , When Sheepe shall seede amidst the Sea . When stones aloft , as Birds shall flie , And night be changed into Day , Then shall you see that I will yeeld , And to your force resigne the feeld . Till all these things doe come to passe , Assure your selfe , you know my mind , My hart is now , as first it was , I came not of dame Chrysiedes kind , Then leaue to hope , learne to refraine , Your mind from that , you seeke in vaine . I wish you well , and well to fare , And there with all a godly mind , Deuoid of lust , and foolish care , This if you seeke , this shall you find . But I must say , as erst before , Then cease to waile , and write no more . Alway the same Auisa .

H. W. Was now againe striken so dead , that hee hath not yet any farder assaid , nor I thinke euer will , and where he be aliue or dead I know not , and therfore I leaue him .

The Authors conclusion . SO thus she stands vnconquered yet , As Lambe amidst the Lions pause , Whom gifts , nor wils , nor force of wit , Could vanquish once with all their shewes , To speake the truth , and say no more , I neuer knew her like before . Then blame me not , if I protest , My sillie Muse shall still commend This constant A. aboue the rest , While others learne their life to mend , My tongue on high and high shall raise , And alway sing her worthie praise . While hand can write , while wit deuise , While tongue is free to make report , Her vertue shall be had in prise Among the best and honest sort , And they that wil mislike of this , I shall suspect , they strike amis . Eternall then let be the fame Of such as hold a constant mind , Eternall be the lasting shame , Of such as waue with euery wind : Though some there be that will repine ; Yet some will praise this wish of mine . But here I cease for feare ofblame , Although there be a great deale more , That might be spoken of this dame , That yet lies hid in secret store , If this be lik't , then can I say , Ye may see more another day . Agitante calescimus illo . Farewell . FINIS .

The resolution of a chast and a constant wife , that minds to continue faithfull vnto her husband . To the tune of Fortune . THough winged Birds , do often skorne the lure , And flying farre , do thinke them selues most sure , Yet fancie so , his luring ingines frame , That wildest harts , in time become most tame . Where secret nature , frames a sweete consent , Where priuie fates their hidden force haue bent , To ioyne in hart , the bodies that are twaine , Flie where you list , you shall returne againe . From fancies lore , I striued still to flie , Long time I did my fortune flat denie , Till at the length , my wrastling bred my woe , Knowing that none , their fortune can forgoe . For while I liu'd , in prime of vernant youth , Falshod that shew'd , the face of fained truth , Falsly gan weane , a web of wylie kind ; So to intrap , my plaine and simple mind . Great were the sutes , great were the frendly signes , Sweete were the words , to poyson tender minds , Large were the gifts , great were the proffers made , To force my mind , to trie a trustlesse trade . Great were the wights , that dayly did conspire , To pluck the rose , their fancies did desire , Traile did the teares , in hope to purchase trust , Yet this was all , no loue , but luring lust . No fancie could then force me to replie , Nor moue my mind such doubtfull deeds to trie : For well I knew , although I knew not all , Such trickle trades procure a suddaine fall . Thus did I mount , thus did I flie at will , Thus did I scape the foulers painted skill , Thus did I saue , my feathers from their lime , Thus did I liue , a long and happie time . Cupid that great , and mightie kings could moue , Could neuer frame , my hart to like of loue , His limber shafts , and eke his golden dart , Were still too blunt , to pearce my steelie hart . Till at the length , as nature had assind , Vnto the earth , I bent a willing mind : He was the first , to whom I gaue my hand , With free consent , to liue in holy band . Eua that gaue her faithfull promise so , With Adam to liue in wealth and in wo , Of faithfull hart , could neuer haue more store , Then I haue felt , thrice three yeares space & more . When I had gieu'n my hart and free consent , No earthly thing could make me once repent , No Seas of griefe , ne cares that I could find , Could so preuaile , to make me change my mind . Did fortune fawne , or did our fortune frowne , Did he exalt , or did he cast him downe , My faithfull hart did euer make me sing , Welcome to me , what euer fortune bring . Now when I thought , all dangers had bene past Of lawlesse sutes , and sutors at the last , The trade , the time , the place wherein I liue , Vnto this Lampe , new oyle doe dayly giue . But like of this all you that loue to range , My fixed hart likes not the skittish change , Now haue I made the choice that shall remaine , Vengeance befall , when I do change againe . Now haue I found a friend of high desart , I haue his loue , and he hath stoole my hart , Now fortune packe , with all thy pelting store , This is my choice , I like to chuse no more Cease then your sutes , yee lustie gallants all , Thinke not I stoupe at euery Faulkners call , Trusse vp your lures , your luring is in vaine , Chosen is the Pearch , whereon I will remaine . Spend not your breath in needlesse fained talkes , Seeke other mates , that loue such rouing walkes , None shall euer vaunt , that they haue my consent , Then let me rest , for now I am content . Great be your birth , and greater be your wealth , I recken more my credit and my health , Though I be weake , my power very scant , God so prouides that I shal neuer want . Be mine owne at home , or be he absent long , Absent or present , this still shall be my song , Fortune my friend , A friend to me hath lent , This is my choise , and therewith am content . Range they that list , and change who euer will , One hath mine oth , and his I will be still , Now let vs fall , or let vs rise on hie , Still will I sing , now well content am I.

The praise of a contented mind . THe God that framde the fixed pole , and Lamps of gleaming light , The azure skies , and twinkling Starres . to yeeld this pleasant sight , In wisdome pight this perelesse plot , a rare surpassing frame , And so with braue and sweete delights , haue fraught and dect the same , That euery creature keepes his course , his compasse and his place , And with delightfull ioye runnes , his pointed time and race , In one consent they friendly ioyne , from which they can not fall , As if the Lord had first ordainde , one soule to guide them all , In euery part there doth remaine , such loue and free consent , That every frame doth kisse his lot , and cries I am content , The Articke pole that neuer moues , by which the shipmen saile , Craues not to change his frizen Axe , nor from his place to steale , The fixed Starres , that sildome range , delight their circles so , That from their choise by wanton change , they neuer yeeld to go . The Sunne and Moone that neuer hide , their braue resplendent raies , Did neuer wish in wauering will , to change their wonted waies . The roaring Sea , with ebbs and tides , that leapes against the land , Is yet content for all his rage , to stay within his band . The flooting Fish , the singing Bird , all beasts with one consent , To liue according to their kind , do shew them selues content , So that by practise and by proofe , this sentence true I find , That nothing in this earth is like , a sweete contented mind . The beasts , the Birds , and ayrie powers , do keepe their compasse well , And onely man aboue the rest , doth loue for to rebell , This onely man , the Lord aboue , with reason did indue , Yet onely man , vngratefull man , doth shew himselfe vntrue . No sooner was braue Adam made , but Sathan wrought his thrall , For not content , aspiring pride , procurde his suddaine sall . The princely Primerose of the East , proud Eua gaue consent , To change her blisse to bale , for that , her mind was not content . Thus may the darkest eie perceiue , how follie strikes vs blind , Thus may we see the often change , of mans vnconstant mind , The Moone , the Sea , by natures course , do not so often change . As do the wits , and wanton wils , of such as loue to range . The rangling rage that held from home , Vlisses all too long . Made chast Penelope complaine of him that did her wrong . The lothsome daies , and lingering nights , her time in spinning spent : She would not yeeld to change her choice , because she was content . Such calme content doth plainely shew , that loue did much abound , Where free consent breeds not content , such faith is seldome found . For carelesse Crysed that had gin , her hand , her faith and hart , To Troylus her trustie friend , yet falsely did depart : And giglot like from Troye towne , to Grecians campe would goe , To Diomede , whom in the end , she found a faithless foe , For hauing fliu'd the gentle slip , his loue was turnd to hate . And she a leaper did lament , but then it was too late . Now foolish fancie was the cause , this Crysed did lament , For when she had a faithfull friend , she could not be content . Ten thousand fell at Troyes siege , whose bloud had not bene spent , If fickle headded Hellen could , at first haue bene content . You can not in the Serpents head , such deadly poyson find , As is the fained loue that liues , with discontented mind . Of all the wisdome of the wise , that I could euer tell , This wisdome beares the chiefest sway , to stay when we be well , As sweetest Musicke rudely iarres , except there be consent : So hottest loue doth quickly coole , except it be content . Of all the braue resounding words , which God to man hath lent , This soundeth sweetest in mine eare , to say . I am content . Euer or Neuer . FINIS .

LONDON Imprinted by Iohn Windet , dwelling at Pauls wharfe at the signe of the crosse Keyes and are there to be solde . 1594.

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