A floorish vpon fancie As gallant a glose vpon so triflinge a text, as euer was written. Compiled by N.B. Gent. To which are annexed, manie pretie pamphlets, for pleasant heads to passe away idle time withal. By the same authour.

A FLOORISH vpon Fancie .

As gallant a Glose vpon so triflinge a text , as euer was written . Compiled by N. B. Gent.

To which are annexed , manie pretie Pamphlets , for pleasant heads to passe away idle time withal . By the same authour .

¶ Imprinted at London , by Richard Ihones . 6. Maij. 1577.

To all younge Gentilmen , that delight in trauaile to forreine Countreis .

YOu gallant Youthes , who are of minde , rather addicted to trauaile , through the world for experience in the diuersities , as well of Countreis , as customes : of men , as of manners : of languages , as of other laudable points , too tedious to discourse of : as well to the commodity of your cuntry comfort of your parents , content , of your freends as cheefly to your owne aduauncement : rather then to sit at home , as a chicke vnder a broode hen , esteeming warmth , the chiefest wisdome : golde , their god : and a whole skinne aboue an honourable name : As many , the more pittie , by too much dandling of their Dads & making of their Mams do now a daies . To you my young Mates Isay. I here vnnamed ( as younge as one ) hauing lately taken in hand to passe a long Pylgremage to Parnassus hil , to Pallas and her Nimphes , to sue for a schollarship in the Schoole of Vertu : I was not far out of mine owne cuntrey , but suddenlie in a place vnknowne , a leage or two from any Towne , vnperfect to returne the way I went : standinge in a muze a while , not knowinge what best to doo , seeinge manie footepathes leadinge diuerse waies : at laste I thought good to take the moste beaten way , as moste likely , to leade mee to some place of habitation , where for that night to take vp my lodginge , and the next morninge to enquire further onwarde on my Iourney . But not bearinge in minde that the broade waies are commonly beaten with beastes : And the foote pathes I mean are euer very narrow I foolishly folowed the Coxcomes Causey before me , which led me on a long streight to the forest of fooles , and so to the fort of Fancy : of which Forte , cum pertinencijs , of my comming thither , abode there , and return from thence , I haue more largly then learnedly discoursed . Yet as it is , I hope it will serue your turnes ( though not as a direction to the place I ment to go too , yet as a diswasion ( in your trauaile ) from that way , that hath led mee so much out of the way before you . Thus hoping to turne the thriftlesse fruit of my fond trauaile , to the commoditie of a great many of yee : that I hope some of yee will one day thancke me for : I wish you all , with my selfe , in trauaile , to treade the path that may bring vs all to perfect paradise .

From his Chamber , in Holbourne , this .xx. of February .

The Preface . A Prouerbe olde , and therewith trewe there is , That , haste makes waste , ech thing must haue his time : Who high aspiers , must euer looke to this , To marke his steppes , before he ginne to clime : For who in climing takes no care at all , Ere hee get vp , is like to catch a fall . Who doth desire , to Honor hie to clime , By due desart , must worshippe first attaine : Then for to seeke , in farther tract of time , The meane , whereby to Honor to attaine : For hee that thinckes , to bee a Lorde first day , Will misse a Lorde , and proue a Loute streight way . Who doth assault , the huge high Fort of Fame , Must first beginne , to scale the outwarde walles : Longe is the Ladder that doth reach the same , And happie he that gets vp without falles : Tedious the time , the labour nothing short , To take in hande to scale so high a Forte . This prouerbe olde , my selfe obserued well , Who not assault , the gallant Fort of Fame : But Fancies Forte , not minding there to dwell , But for to see the secretes of the same : And many times , I thought to make retire , But in the ende , obtained my desire . I scalde the walles , and got into the Fort Wi●h ease inough , short time and little fight ▪ And there I sawe , whereof I make report , Ech thinge , that was for to be seene worth sight : And when that I some time therin had past , How by good hap , I got away at last . Now farre from this , I see The Fort of Fame A harder thinge , to giue assault vnto : I dare not seeke the meane , to scale the same , And if I durst , I know not what to doe : In scalinge Fortes , my skill is too too small , Then if I clime , I needes must catch a fall . By lying still , I can but little gaine , By clyminge too the feare is but a fall : No praise in deede , is gotten without paine , Smale hurte by falles , if bruze growe not withall : No bruze nor fall , takes hee that takes good heede , No takinge heede , great haste , and little speede . Then when I clime , my selfe am warnde to learne The way to scale , ere ought I take in hande , To set my Ladder , wisely to discerne To choose a place , where it may surely stande : Then for to make my Ladder of such stuffe , As I may trust , to treade on sure ynouffe . But then the Roundes , must not be made of Ryme● ▪ My feete will slippe , in treading on the same : And Reason sayes , that who so fondly clymes , Falles downe into the ditch of foule Defame , God keepe me thence , and helpe me so to clyme , That Reason yet , may rayse me vp in tyme . FINIS .

THE SCHOOLE of Fancie . ME thinkes I sée you smile , before you gin to réede , At this same title of my tale : but , for you shall not néede To maruaile at the same . First read it to the ende , And marke yee stil through all the tale , wherto eche point doth tende , And you shall sée I hope , that this same title serues Fit for the tale , els sure my minde from reason greatly swerues . Who is expert in any Art doth beare a Maisters name : Then hée who chéefe is in an Art , doth well deserue the same . Of Art of luckles loue , first Fancy is the ground , Although that Cupid , with his dart , doo giue the deadly wounde . First , Fancy liking bréeds , and liking bréedeth loue , And loue then bréeds , such passing panges , as many louers prooue : And when the troubled minde , with torments is opprest , Fancy doth finde some secret meane , to bréede the hart some rest : And Fancy shée sometime to breed the louers ioy , A thousand sundry waies ( at least ) doth still her paines imploy : She thinkes on this and that , shée teacheth how to loue , And tels the Louer , what to doo , as best for his behooue . But least I go to far and run to mutch at large Out of the way and take no care what thing I haue in charge , I will begin to show , what kinde of Schoole this is , What orders too shée kéepes therin . First lo , the Schoole is this . The roome both large and long , and very darke of sight , The most sight that her Schollers haue , is chiefly by fier light : Which fier doth burne so bright , as giues them light to see To read such books , as there are taught : but what this fier may bée Now therby lies a case . Well marke what I doo wright , And you shall know , for I my selfe , haue séene it burning bright . First Fancie fetcheth coales , and calles for Deepe desire : By him shée setteth Vaine delight and biddes them blowe the fire : And when the fire once burnes , for to maintaine thesame , The Colier Care , hee brings in coales vnto this dainty dame . Hee makes his Coales of wood , that growes on Hare braine hill , The ●roue is cald , the Thriftles thicke of wilde and wanton will : The wood is of small groth , but stickes of Stubborne youth , Which serues as fittest for that fier , god wot , the greater ruth : Lo thus , this fire doth burne , and still doth giue the light To Fancies schollers in her schoole , they haue none other sight . Now Sir , in this hot schoole , first Fancie highest sittes , And out of all her schollers still , shée takes the wildest wittes . And those shee takes in hand , to teach the Art of loue , which being taught in that vayn Art , do soone fine schollers proue . Shée teatheth them to mourne , to flatter and to faine , To speake , to write , and to indight , to labor and take paine : To go , to run and ride , to muse , and to deuise , To iuggle with a déerest freend , to bleare the parents eyes . To spend both landes and goods , to venter Lim and life , To make foes frends , and twixt dere frends , to set debate & strife : To doo and vndoo too , so that they may obtaine Their mistresse loue : and neuer care , for taking any paine . To iet in braue attire , to please their mistris eye : Although perhaps they vtterly , vndoe themselues therby . To learne to sing and daunce , to play on Instruments , To speake choyce of straunge languages , to try experiments Straunge , seldome had in vse : in fine , to tell you plaine , To doo almost they care not what , there ladies loue to gaine . And thus in tracte of time , by sutch instructions , Shee makes them tread , the perfect path to their distructions : Some other schollers now , are taught within her schoole By Vsshers that teach vnder her , of which one is a foole By nature and by name , for Follie men him call : And hee will teach his scholler soone , to proue a naturall . The second Frenzie is , in teaching too as bad , For hee will teach , his schollers most the way to make them mad : The Vssher follie first , hee teacheth to be bould , Without aduice to giue no eare , to counsaile that is tould To take delight in gauds , and foolish trifling toies , In things of value , litle worth , to set his chiefest ioyes . To prate without regard , of reason in his talke , To think blacke white , & wrong for right , & know not chéese from chalke To loue the things in deede , which most hee ought to hate : For triflyng toyes , with deerest freends , to fall at dire debate . To loue to play at dice , to sweare his blood and hart , To face it with a ruffins looke and set his hat a thwart . To haunt the Tauerns late , by night to trace the streetes , And swap ech slut , vpon the lippes , that in the darke hee meetes : To laughe at a horse nest , and whine too like a boy , If any thing do crosse his minde , though it be but a toy : To slauer like a slaue , to lye too like a dog , To wallow almost like a Beare , and snortle like a Hog . To féede too like a Horse , to drinke too like an Oxe , To shew himselfe in eche respecte a very very coxe . But sutch a scholler now , is chosen of grose wit , Because that Beetle heddes do serue for such instructions fit . The other Usher now , that Frenzie hath to name , His kinde of teaching , hée againe another way doth frame : Hée teacheth how to rage , to sweare and ban and curse , To fret , to fume , to chide , to chafe , to doo all this and worse . To teare his flesh for griefe , to fill the aire with cries , To harbor hatred in his hart , and mischefe to deuise : To hate all good aduice , to follow witles will , And in the ende for want of grace , to seeke himselfe to kill . And sutch his schollers are , ripe wits , but wanting grace , And sutch vngracious graffes , doo learne , sutch gracelesse geare a pace : These schollers all are young , except that now and than , To be a scholler with the rest , there step in som ould man . Who when that hée a while , hath bin in Fancies schoole , Doth learne , in his olde crooked age , to play the doting foole . And sutch there are sometime , ( more pittie ) for to see , That in their crooked doting age , would faine fine louers bee . Which béeing in that schoole , doo prooue , for all their paine , By Frenzy mad , by Folly fooles , or els by Fancy vaine . My selfe can tell too well , for I haue séene the schoole , And learned so long there till I prou'd more halfe a very foole . First Fancy dandled mée , and held mée in her lap : And now and then , shée would mée féede , with worldly pleasures pap . Shée tould mee I was young , and I my youth must spend In youthful sporte , I did not know , how soone my life would end : Be merry while I mought , set carke and care aside , How mad were hée that mought in blisse , and would in bale abide ? Such sugred speach of hers had soone intrapt mee so , That I did thinke , that did mée good , that wrought ( in déed ) my wo : Remayning thus a while , at last I had an eye , To see how Folly taught his Youthes , and some rules by and by My selfe began to learne : First this , for to be bould , And to refuse to lend my eare , where good aduise was tould . In foolish trifling toyes to take a great delight : To take in hand to prate of that , wherin I had no sight . These rules I soone had learnd , but when I came to that , Where Ruffins card & dice , and sweare , and ware aside their hat I read no farther then , but vp againe I went , Unto my mistris Fancie fine : and straight downe shee mee sent Unto the nether ende of all her schoole below , Where Frenzy sat : and sweting hard , hee gan to puffe and blow . He litle likte my minde , yet would I ye or no , I learnd some of his raging rules , er I away did go : I learnd to fret and fume , though not to ban and curse , And oft for griefe to sigh and sob and many times doo worse , But yet I thanke my god I neuer had the will : In greatest franticke fit I felt , to seeke my selfe to kill . But to make short my tale , his lessons likte me not , But vp agayn in haste I went , to Fancie fond , god wot . And lying in her lap , I fell a slepe anon , Where slepinge so I dreamed sore that I was wo begon : ¶ Methought that Wisdome came , and warned mee in hast , To loth sutch lessons , as I learnd , er that my youth were past . For short should be my sweete , and time would passe away : The man is in his graue tooday , that liued yesterday : Thy life ( qd hee ) poore soule is like vnto a flower , That groweth but in daunger still of cropping euery hower . And if it be not cropt , yet soone it will decay And like the flower in litle time , it wither will away . Thy pleasures wil be paine , thy game will turne to greefe , And thou wilt seke in vaine to late , when y● woldest finde releefe : Arise thou sluggish slaue , out of that lothsome lap And be no longer like a babe , so fed with pleasures pap . Lose no more labor so , in sutch a witles schoole where as the best that thou canst gaine , is but to proue a foole . Study some better Art , for lo thy wits will serue To learne to doo , that may in time , a good reward deserue : Better then best degree , that thou art like to take In Fancies schoole : I tell thée plaine , therfore I say awake , Awake in haste awake , and hie thee hence I say , Take warning in good time poore soule , for time will sone away : But since that with sutch Youthes , words seldome will preuaile , With this same rod thou foolish boy I meane to breech thy tayle . With which ( me thought ) hee gaue a ierke , that made mee smart : Which soden smart , although but small , yet made me giue a start : And in my starting so , I waked sodenly , And so awakte , I cald to minde my vision by and by . Thus thinking on my dreame I heauy grew in minde , Which by and by when Fancie fond , gan by my countenance finde How now my youth ( quoth shee ) what ailes thee seeme so sad ? What canst thou thinke to cheare thy mind but that it shal be had ? No no ( quoth I ) I not beleue these words of thine . thou sausy slaue ( quoth she ) darest thou mistrust these words of mine ? And therwith in a rage , shee threw me from her lap , And with the fall beshrew her hart , I caught a cruell clap : Wherwith sumthing displeasd , why fine mistris ( quoth I ) What can you bide no iest ? alas , and therwith angerly : Without or taking leaue , or any duty done , From Fanci● in a rage I flong and out of dores I ronne . And béeing out of dore , these words me thought I sayd , Fie on the Fancie flattering flirt , I holde me well apaide : That I am got away , out of thy skillesse schoole , For now I see , thou wentest about , to make mee a right foole . But now that I am out , by grace of god I sweare , While I doo liue , if I can choose , neuer more to come there . But Fancie hering this to make mee still to stay , To fetch mée in with pleasaunt sportes inuented many a way But when I did perceiue how nere mée still shée came , Then from her quite I flong in hast , and so I left this dame . Lo thus I tell you how , I came from Fancies schoole , Where learning but a litle while , I prou'd more halfe a foole : Wherfore since my good hap , hath bin to come from thence , Although with labor lost , in déede , and some , to mutch expence . I now haue thought it good , to warne eche one my fréend , To keep themselues from Fancies schoole , and so I make an ende . FINIS .

THE FORTE of Fancie . The Argument . AS Fancie hath a Schoole , so hath shee too a Fort. Of which , the cheifest points , my selfe , will sumwhat make report : The ground wheron it standes , and the foundation then , How it is built , how it is kept , and by what kinde of men . What kinde of cheere shee keepes , who are her cheifest gesse . What drink she drinks , who are her cookes , that al her meat do dres . Whom most shee loues , who is her foe , and who againe her freende , And how the Forte , may soone be scalde : and there to make an ende . The Forte of Fancie . THe ground wheron it stands , is hauty Hare braine hill , Hard by the thick , I tolde you of , Wilde and wanton will : The fond foundacion is , false fortunes fickle Wheele , Which neuer standes , but stil eache way is ready for to réele : Now here , now there agayn , with euery blast of winde , Not as shee list , but as it most doth please dame Fortunes mynde , The house it selfe is calde , The lodge of luckles loue . Within the which , are diuers roomes , beneath and eake aboue : The name wherof anon , I meane at large to show , But first , the outside ●f this house , I must declare , I trow : The comming to the same , the walles , the gates , and then The base courts , Courts , & gardens then , & then the gards of men . The Porters to the dores , the officers within , And therfore thus , in order , I will now my tale begin . ¶ The comming to the same , is by a great high way , Faire beaten plaine , with fooles foot steps , and trodden euery day The soile is pleasaunt sure , bedeckt with gallant flowers , But being gathered once , wil scarce bide swéet aboue two howers : And in this soile , there standes , a Forest large and wide , Which is well storde with thickes & woods the beastes therein to hide : Of which great péece of ground , for to declare the name , The Forrest Sir of fooles it is , lo now you know the same : And in this Forrest now , this beaten way doth ly , Which leadeth vnto Harebraine hill the right way redely . At foote of this same hill , and round about the same , There is a diche which Deepe deceipte , is called by that name : Ouer this lies a Bridge , but trust mee , very weake , For when you are on midst therof , then sodenly t will breake : And downe into the diche of Deepe deceipte you fall , Rise againe as you can your selfe , you get small helpe at all . The bridge is calde The breache of perfect amitie , T is made of Hollow harts , of sutch as wanted honestie ▪ Which beeing rotten still , will neuer beare the waight Of any man : but sodainly , downe castes him in deceipt . Now Sir although you fall , no bones shall yet bee burst , Nor whatsoeuer hurt you take , you feele it not at furst . But being falne , if you can make a shift to swim , Though it bee but a stroke or two , yet you may get vp trim Unto the bankes therof , and so by shrubs that growe Upon the bankes , to make a shift , vp to the gate to goe : But if you cannot swim you may catch such a fall , That you may chaunce vnto your cost , to catch a bruse withall . Not swimming as in seas , for feare in deepe to drowne But swimming syr in Worldly wealth for feare of falling downe . But if that you can swim , then soone perhaps you may , By shrubs and bushes to the gates make sh●ft to finde a way . Then being at the gates , there shall you standing finde A pelting patch for Porter there , of nature very kinde : His name is Daliance , a foolish crafty knaue Who needeth not to let you in , too mutch intreatie haue . Welcome good Sir ( saith hee ) now trust mee by my fay , I thinke that you haue trauailed a wery péece of way , Wilt please you to go in , and take a litle rest ? Thus by the Porter Daliance you go in as a guest . Now if vp to the gate you cannot finde the way , Then lustely to scale the walles you must sumwhat assay . Which walles you soone may scale , if you will take the payn , Or els may quickly beat them down , with n of your brayne : Few are to make defence , and sutch as are , will stay There hands from dooing harm to you , but rather make you way . And shall I show in kinde , what gallants you shall sée ? That for to garde this Forte are set , and what their wepons bée ? It were a sporte to tell , to set them out in kinde : Well , I will show them all , as well as I can beare in minde . First lo , a Garde of Geese , and Ganders in one rancke , With doutie Duckes and Drakes harde by , vpon an other bancke : A sight of Asses then , there stood in battell ray , With Iacke an apeses on their backes : and they stoode in the way That leades vnto the Court : further you cannot passe , Except you let a Iacke a napes , to ride you like an Asse . But if you will doo so , then may you passe vp straight Into th' inner court ( forsooth ) where long you shall not waight . But out vnto the dore , cums out an officer , And gently Sir into the Hall , this man will you prefer . But now Sir , will you know , what meanes these Armies so That stands to garde dame Fancies for t ? well marke and you shall know● The garde of Geese , are first Vngracious graffes of youth That wallow euery wanton way , and misse the trackt of truth : The Duckes ( good Syr ) are Doults ▪ as well both younge as olde , That in that carelesse court , are set to kéepe a foolish holde . The Asses , they are Lout●s ▪ of wisdome none at all , Yet haue a certaine kinde of wit , to play the fooles with all . The Apes that rides them now , and rules them euery way , And turne their heds which way they list , a thousand times a day Are Foolish apish toyes ▪ fond heds for to delite : Not voide of reason vtterly , though voyd of wisdome quite . Their Weapons are their Tongues , wherwith they make a cry , Away I say , away , stand backe , soft Syr , you come not by : But if so bée they see , one ridden like an Asse , Then will they make but small adoo , but let him gently passe . Now Syr , thus like an Asse , hée goes to the Hall doore , And there becomes a Man againe , and standes an Asse no more : Yet though his eares grow short , hée is not altered so , But hee shall beare an Asses hed , where euer so hee go . And bee hee Man or Asse , Iacke an apes hée must beare As long as hee is in that Forte , or els hée bides not there . Now Syr , at the hall dore , the porter Pleasure standes , Hée lookes for , er hee farther go , some mony at his handes : Hee lets in none for thankes , hee must haue mony , hee , Hee goes n●t in els , I am sure , for so hée delt with mée . But if hee him rewarde , he brings him to the Hall , And there the Vsher by and by , good Syr , hee meetes withall : Hee entertaines you then , in such a pleasaunt wise , As makes you thinke , you are ariude , in place of Paradise . Not long hee bides with you , but to the Chamberlaine Hée brings you vp , where curiously hee doth you entertaine With Bezoles manos , imbrasings downe to knée : With Cap of curtesie : and a grace , the brauest that may bée . This is a gentle youth , but er I farther go , The names of these same Officers , I plainly meane to show : The Vsher of the hall , is called Vaine delight : Hée entertaineth none , except hee bee some witles wight . The Chamberlaine is called Curiositie , And fellow with this Vaine delight , and of affinitie : For at request of this , his fellow , Fond delight , Hée brings you where of Fancie faire , you soone may haue a sight And if you like him well , hée workes so in the ende , That hée will in your sute forth with , cause Fancie stande your freend . To Fancie then good Syr , hee brings you by and by , And there may you behould her , how shee sitteth gallantlie : Her chamber large and long , bed●●●e with thousand toies : Braue hanging clothes of rare deuise , pictures of naked boies , And ●irles too now and then , of sixteene yeares of age : That will within a yeare or two , grow fit for mariage . But they must haue a Lawne , a Scarfe , or some sutch toy , To shroud there shamefastnes with all : but if it be a boy , Hee standes without a Lawne , as naked as my naile : For Fancie hath a sporte sumtime , to see a naked tayle . Besides in pictures too , and toies of straung deuise With stories of ould Robin hood , and Walter litle wis● ▪ Some showes of warre long since , and Captaines wounded sore , And souldiers slaine , at one conflict , a thousand men and more . Of hunting of wilde beastes , as Lions , Bores and Beares , To see how one an other oft , in sunder straungly teares . Of gallant Citties , Townes , of Gardens , Flowers , and trees : Of choise of pleasant herbs , and fruits , and such like toies as these These hang about the walles , the floore now is strode With plesant flowers , herbs & sweets , which in her garden grode . But now , the names of them I purpose to descrie : In steede of Fennell Syr , the first , is Flatterie : The other herbe is Sausines , in steed of Sauorie : In steede of Basell , now there lieth Brauerie : And for sweet Sothernwood , againe is secret Slauerie : In steed of Isop , now there lies Inuencion : And in the steed of Cama●●ell , there lies Confusion : The flowers now are these , in steed of Gilliflowers , Faire iestes : that last not sweet alas , aboue two or three howres : For Roses , Rages : which will not so soone decay , For Paunseis , Pretie practises , that alter many a way : For Marigoldes , Mischiefe : for Walflowers , Wantonnes : For Penckes , Presumption : for Buttons , Busines : For Daisies , Doubtfulnes : for Violets , Viciousnes : For Primroses , Foolish pride : for Couslips , Carelesnes : With these flowers and herbs , with many mo ( god wot ) Doth Fancie strow her Chamber flower , which I remember not . Now Syr , in this same roome , thus brauely bedect , Sits Fancie in her brauerie : and Syr in eache respect , So serued in her kinde , with her fine Chamberlaine , That not for any thing shée hath , that shee needes too take payne . Fine Curiositie her Chamberlaine doth all The seruice in her chamber , Syr : but the Vsher in the Hall , Hee doth her seruis too , although , not all so neere Her person , as her Chamberlaine : shee houldeth him more deere . The order h●w she sittes , is this syr , in a Chaire , Fine caru●d out with Caruers worke , and couerd very faire : With a straung kinde of stuffe , the colour is al gréen , Braue Frindge and hangde , with two fine Pearles , the like but seldom séen : Now Syr , her Chaire ( in deede ) is but a Youthfull braine , Whose head is very greene , in deede : the Frindge , to tell you plaine Are Heares vpon the head : the Pearles , they are the Eyes : Fast set vnto the head ( good Syr : ) and lo thus in this wise , I shew you Fancies seat : But if the eies did see What great dishonour t is to them , in Fancies chaire too bée : They rather would fall of , then hange in sutch a place , Where they are rulde , when they mought rule , and so to gayne disgrace . But be they as they bée , I shew you how they bée : Beléeue mee , when that you come there , then you your self shal see . Well Syr , thus Fancie sits , before whom you must stand , Till shée her selfe doo bid you come , and take her by the hand : And that shée soone will doo , for shée is curteous , And where shée takes a liking too , shée is as amorous . Now béeing come to you , these wordes first shée will say , Shée will bee asking how at first , you thither found the way ? Wherto your answere made , then shee will take the paine To shew you all her roomes within , and shée will entertaine You in so braue a sorte , that you shall thinke , a while , You are in heauen : with sugred speech shée will you so beguile . Now first shée leades you in , into her Garden gay She shews you flowers , but tels you not , how soone they wil decay . Shee tels you this braue tree , a gallant fruit will beare , This is a gallant Princely Plum , and this as fine a Peare : This is a Pippen right , this is a Filberde fine : This is a Damson delicate , but few sutch fruits as mine : When God hee knowes , the tree , whose fruits shee bragges on so , Is but a plant of peeuishnes , and brings forth fruits of w● . Her Plum , is but a Pate that puffed is with pride , Which either quickly rotten growes or breakes out on some sid● . Her Peare is an olde plant that bringeth Outward ioy , To sight , at least : but eaten once , will choke you with annoy . Her Pippen is a Crabbe , that growes on S. Iohns wood , Which makes a shew of a faire fruit , but in taste is not 〈◊〉 . This is a Secreat fo , that séemes a Faithfull freend , But will be sure , who trust in him , to faile them in the ende . Her Filberds haue faire shales , but Carnels all are gone : Her Damsons are deceiptfull fruits as hard as any stone : Harde : how ? not hard in hand , nor very hard in taste : But béeing swallowd , very hard for to digest at last . These Trees with many mo , which I not call to minde , In Fancies gallant Garden plot , you shal be sure to finde . Now in this Gardein more , alas , I had forgot : About the midst therof ( I gesse ) there standes a prety plot , Wherin is made a Maze , all bordered with Wilde breere , Set all about the bankes with Rue , that grew there many a yere . Iust in the midst wherof , a huge high Mount doth stand , Which grew by nature in the place , not made by Gardeners hand . The Hill on the one side , is made much like a Harte , And as like to a Hed againe vpon the other parte . And in this Mount , there dwels a number of mad men : Some mad in hart , and some in hed , and euery one his den . Upon the Harte side , stands The caue of crueltie , A currish knaue , which with his téeth , still gnashing close doth lie . By him hath foule Despight a filthy Den likewise , Which in that lothsome lodge of his , still fretting daily lyes . By him horrible Hate , hath eke a kinde of Caue , Like a foule hole : but good inough for such a filthy slaue : Upon the hedside now , lies Melancoly first , Hee beates his head with studie so , as if his braines would burste . By him vile Enuie next , foule ●●end with fiery eies Bound about hed with Serpent skinnes , in lothsome manner lies . Right ouer him doth keepe , fierce Frenzie in his caue : Hee frets , hee fumes , hee stampes and stares , & neuer lins to raue Aboue them all , vpon the top of this same hil , Dwels Madnes , Maister of them all : and with him , witles Will : His lodge is like a house , that had bin built of stone , That had bin ouerthrown , and nought left but the walles alone : It hath a kinde of r●●fe , but all vncouered : So that the raine vpon him falles , as hee lies in his bed . And for the manner now how he lies , credit mee , It is the straungest sight me thinkes , that euer I did see . His Bedsted is of Wood , ingrauen with Vgly faces : And standes more halfe a sunder , burst in twenty sundry places : His Bed with fethers stuft , but all the Downe flowne out : And those that bide , are stubborne quilles , that pricke him round about . Upon an ould crackt Forme , by his bedside there lyes , Duld instruments of Musicks sound , all broke in wondrous wise . A Lute , with but three strings , and all the pinnes nere out : The belly crackt , the backe quite burst , and riuen round about : His Virginals , with neuer a iacke , and halfe the keyes . His Organes , with the bellowes burst , and battred many wayes . His Fife , three holes in one : his Harpe , with nere a stringe : Great pittie trust mee for to see , so broken euery thinge : A Pen and Inke hee hath and Paper too hard by , But paper quite in pieces torne , pen burst and Inkhorne drie . He feedes of Fancies fruites , that in her Garden growe , He drinkes of Drugges of foule Despight , a beastly broth I trow . He feares no heate nor colde , for if with heate he glow , The waues of woe will coole him streight , that there by Tides do flow For through this Forrest runnes , The Seas of sorrow sore : Whose Waues do beate against this Forte , that bordereth on the shore . And if with colde he quake , the heate of raging ire Will quickly warme him so , that he shall neede none other fire : In raging Franticke fittes , he passeth foorth the day In straunge perplexities , himselfe tormenting many a way . Amonge many mad toyes , I saw him play one parte , With looke full fierce I saw him holde , a Dagger to his Hart Redie to kill himselfe , and with his heare vpright , He cried , he would rather die , then bide sutche deepe dispight : At which same crie of his , me thought , that euery one Within their Caues , all sodeinly did make a piteous mone : With which amazed halfe , not knowing what to say , By helpe of God , I know not how , but straight I got away . And then I was agayne , with ●ancie by and by , Out of the Maze in her Gardeine : who led me presently , As she will you likewise , if you will : backe againe Into her house : where you will thinke , in heauen for to r●●aine . The Entrie first before you come vnto the Hall , Is set out gallantly with toyes , and that of cost not small . The Pauements are of stone , which Hard harts haue to name , They grow all in a minde of man , and thence she hath the same : Aboute the Entrie walles , do hange deuises straunge : And by the brauerie of the same , mutche like the Low exchange . From Entrie then you come , streight way vnto the Hall : And that with manie Iewels riche , is hanged round● withall The roome it selfe is long and therwith somewhat wide , And for the fashion in my minde , not much vnlike Cheapeside : There hang great store of gaudes , of which the Vsher straight Doth offer to Dame fancies eie , and therfore there doth wayght . Chaines , Iewels , Cups & Pots : Pearls , precious stones & Kings Fine whissels , Corrals , Buttons , Beads , & such like costly things Fine Brooches for your Hat , fine Aglets for your Cap , Fine Tablets for a gallant dame , to hang before her lap . These thinges with many mo in this same Cheapeside Hall Hath Vaine delight , to please Fancie his Mistris minde withall . Now though shee sée them all , her Chamberlain must chuse What hee best thinkes wil like her minde , & what she wil refuse . That Chamberlaine ( you know ) is Curiositie Hée euer chooseth all the ware , that Fancie fond doth buye . Now from the Hall , vnto the Parlor straight you go Which as the Hall with Iewels riche is brauely hanged so : The roome is long , not large , I met it not with féete , But as I gesse , in fashion t is , much like to Lombarde streete : This roome the Vsher too , doth looke too with the Hall : Well , there within a litle while , you quickly will see all : Which beeing seene , you passe into the other roome , Which called is her Counting house : wherin when you be come , There shall you see her bookes , that treates of many toyes And most of them doo show , the cause of louers greifes or ioyes . Some volumes Syr , doo treate of naught but Vanitat● But very ●ew that speakes a worde of perfect Sanitate Some auncient authors write , De arte a mandi . Which who so studies throughly , runs mad or ere hee die . And in the steed of Tullies workes , written De officijs , There standes Tom ●atlers treatise Syr , De fine brandicijs : Among the rest are some , Belle discorce d'amore , And some doo write discourses , De graundissimo dolore : Some bookes doo make discourse of Pride and Foule disdayne , Some letters Amatorie are : some of Dispite agayne . Some Pretie pamplets are , some Posies , Satirs some : Some doo discourse of Falconrie , and some of Day of doome . And they are called Drommes : and some tell pretie tales Of Lapwings , Swallowes , Fesant cockes , & noble Nightingales Some Songes and Sonets are , and some are Louers layes , Some Poets paint The panges of loue , a thousand sundry wayes . Now with sutch bookes as these , with other such like toyes , Doth Fancie store her Counting house , for to instruct her boyes And girles too now and than : at least if they doo reede , And in sutch vaine Discourses , most her selfe delightes indeede . Now Syr , when you haue seene her fine Librarie there : Shee shews you then her other roomes , & leads you euery where . But sure her Counting house , of all that ere I see , Is built as like to Poules Church yarde , as euer it may bee . Now next shee leades you too , her Wardrope of fine cloth , Of diuers kindes of colours Syr : what laugh you Syr of trothe ? Beleeue mee , when that you to Fancies for t doo go : And if you come into her court , then you shall finde it so . The colours of her cloth , are faire and very gay : White , Red , Blew , Greene , Carnation , Yealow , & Popingay . Of blackes but very few : but other colours store , Of mingled colours , or such as I tolde you of before . Now shee that keepes that roome , is a young pleasant dame And Wantonnes , I trow it bee , that Fancie calles her name Now Wantonnes againe , shee keepes a pretie knaue That euery day , deuiseth still , new fashions for to haue : Hée hath a knaui●● head , fine knackes for to inuent , Wherof good store of cloth , in haste in fashions may be spent : In gardes , in weltes , and iags , in laying cloth vpon cloth : And this same youth a Tailor is , for men and women both . His name is Fond deuise : hee came of Apish race , A man , for such a mistris méete , and fit for such a place . But for dame Fancie ●ine , no garments Syr hée makes But first the vew her Chamberlaine Curiositie takes : And if hee like it well , then will shee stand content , If not , his labour all is lost , and cost in vaine is spent . Now this same Wardrop Syr , is likest in my minde , To Watling streete , of any place , that euer I could finde . Now Syr , from thence you come when you haue seene all there : You go into her Gallarie , a roome that I dare sweare The like is seldome seene , for gallant setting out : If one shoulde trauaile euerie daie , almost the worlde about For choice of gallant stuffe , and fine deuises strange No place so like that ere I see , as is The high Exchange : Such purses , gloues , and pointes , of cost and fasshion rare Such cutworkes , partlets , sutes of lawne , bongraces , & such ware : Such gorgets , sléeues , and ruffes , lininges for gownes , and calles , Coiffes , crippins , cornets , billaments , muske boxes , & swéet balles Pincases , picketoothes , bearde brushes , comes , néedels , glasses , belles And manie such like toies , as these : that Gaine to fancie sels . But yet of all these toies , not one will Fancie buye , Except , they first bée looked on by Curiositie : But Follie manie times , standes at his elbow so , That makes him choose the worse sumtime , and let the better go : Well , there not longe you bide , but downe you come againe Into the hall beneath good Syr , where longe you not remaine : But to the Kitchin streight , she forthwith leadeth thee : Where , how she dresseth all hir meate , the order thou shalt sée And what kinde cookes she hath , and how they make their fyre , To reast , to séeth , to broile , to bake , and what you will desire : The roome is narow syr , in which a Harth all bare On which the Cooke , powers on his coales , & kindels them with care , Then layes he to the Spit , if any meate be roast , And if the fyre be once a flame , then it beginns to toast , The meate that most he roastes , for Fancies dantie tooth , Are Partridges , larkes , plouers gréene , & such fine foule ( for sooth ) The Coles are made of stickes , of stuborne youth ( god wot ) which kindle quickelie of themselues , and blowinge néedeth not : The kinde of woode is Will , drie without Sapience sappe : The lobcoke Lust , from thriftlesse thicke , doth bring than in his lap : Which wood with lying still , is growne so very drie , That with a Sparke of Sporte , alasse , they kindle by and by . The Cooke is Carelesse calde : the fowles he roastes are these : For Larkes , are lookes : for Plouers , thoughts : for Partridge , Practises : The Larkes , are Lookes : which when they liue , doe flye : But beinge stroken deade , they serue for Fancie by and by : The Partridge , Practises : which liuing , séeme so good , That they are put vnto the fyre , to serue for Fancies ●oode : For , as the Partridge kéepes hir selfe close to the grounde , Bicause by colour of hir coate , she may not so bee founde : So Practises , that shift : to kéepe themselues vnseene , Are Foules most fit for Fancies tooth , and now for Plouers gréene Greene thoughts , that flye about : now heere , now there againe : But if by chaunce , by Cupids dart , they hap for to be slaine . Then lyinge but a while , at this same flaminge fyre , They make in déede a meate that most , Fonde Fancie doth desyre , Now hauing séene all this , then shall you sée harde by The Pastrie , Meale house , and the roome wheras the Coales do ly : The Coalehouse , is a Cau●e of care and miserie . The Pastrie is a Place of open Patcherie . The Mealehouse , is a Place with seate mischiefe fraught For sure , the Meale is made of Corne , that is much worse than naught . The Corne is called Rye : and diuerse kindes there bee . Of this same Rye : as you your self , when you are there shall see : For there is one kinde , Rye , is called knauerie : An other Flat●rie , with Trecherie , and Patchreie : An other Trumperie , an other Mockerie , And Baudrie too : and yet the best is but a kinde of Rye , Whereof the Meale is made , that maketh Fancies breede : And that is baked in the braine , of a hot foolish head : The Graine is sowne by sondrie slaues : of which one Beastlinesse , The other Secrete sausinesse : an other Traiterousnesse , An other Piuishnes , and an other Wilfulnesse , With Loutishnesse , and many mo , which I cannot expresse : And reaped by such slaues , too Fancie , slaues , in déede Which bringe the Corne , into The Barne of beggerie , with spéede : They now that thresh the Corne , are two stronge sturdie knaues , Who haue great béetels in their hands , in sted of Threshing staues Of whome to tell the names , first , Lobcocke litle wit , And Waywarde will : a good tough knaue , hee stands , his fellow sit , They with their Betels in their handes , or heades at least , Doo make it readie for the Mill : then he that grindes the gréest , Is , Manie better Syr , an arrante craftie knaue , Who with his toulinge , wil be sure , a good rounde gaine to haue . Now Syr , this Mill doth stande , vpon an Hill on hie , Whose sailes are driuen by blasts of winde , and so grinde merely . Now Syr , the Corne thus grounde , to Fancies Forte streight way The Miller comes and : in the house there down his Meale doth lay Now Syr , when you haue bene , in all these offices , And that at Fancies handes , you finde such loue and gentlenesse , To shewe you all hir house : but soft , I had forgot , To speake of hir Bed Chamber fine , which now Syr , I will not Let slippe for any thinge : the Roome it selfe is rounde , And in the night doth stand hir Bed , with Curtens brauely bound . The Walles hangde all with Hope , on th one side verie faire : Upon the other side againe , darke hangings of dispaire . Strange pictures by hir Bed : on th one side , sites of greefe , On thother side , to euerie pange , a present sweet releefe . Upon the one side , sweet accorde , on thother Dire debate , Upon the one side , Naked loue : on thother , Couerde hate . On ●hone side , Prodigies , with pleasaunt Dames in Ioye , On thother side , Chauing Peascods : in greefe and greate anoye . These diuers contraries , with manie thousandes mo , When Fancie gazeth on a while , she is amazed so , That musinge so a while , she slumbreth at the last , And being in a slumber so , she sléepeth , but not fast : Her Bed is all of Downe , whereon she lies so soft , As any Ladie in this land : and at her Bed a loft , Are written in faire hande , and easie for to reede : ( Although I seeme a louelie dame , I lothsome am in deede ) This solempne sentence , who euer so doth see , And doth consider the contentes , will neuer like of me . Her bedde is thus bedeckte : the curteynes are of Saye , Not gréene , nor yealow , red , nor blew , nor white , nor popingaye No Silke nor ( Cruell saye , what then maie be the same ? This Say is calde , saye for thy selfe , lo nowe ye knowe the name . Her Couering , curious cost : her Blankets , Louers blisse : Her Sheetes , are shiftes : to shroud her self . Her quiltes , are quidities . Her Pillowes , they are poyntes : that louers lea●e vpon . Her Bolster , is a beggars bagge : when coine and goods are gone . Her Bed she lies vpon is a younge mellowe braine : where Fancie softlie lies and sleepes , and neuer féelith paine . And of such beds , she hath such stoare of choise ( by roode ) That ( if so be ) she like not one , an other is as good . Of which , some are so softe , that she doth like them so , That with her liynge in them long , they more halfe rotten growe : And if they be not turned , or ere they go to farre , In time , both braine , and hedde , and all , she wil be sure to marre . Thus shall you sée her bed , and chamber brauely deckte : And euery roome within her house , set out in eche respect , So gallantlie : that as I saide , I saie againe , You sure will thinke ( at first ) a while , in heauen for to remaine . Thus , when that Fancie fine , hath led you rounde about . Her statelie house , in euerie roome : then shall you sée a loute , Come with a napkin fine , about his bodie bounde , Into the chamber , there where first dame fancie fine you founde : He comes to laie a cloth , vpon Dame fancies bourde : And then to bringe in all hir cates : and trust me ( at a worde ) It is so strange a sighte , to sée her serued so , As I shall neuer see the like , where euer so I go . Her Table is a Forme , that stands without a frame . And none but she and her compeeres , can ●it vpon the same : Her Stooles , stande without feete , I cannot shew you how , Though I haue séene them ( credite me ) I haue forgot them now . But you shall sée them there , if thither you will go . Now Sir , when you are there , and see this order soo , Then vnto dinner streight , she goeth by and by : There shall you sée her fine Compeeres , that beare her companie . First , vpper most she sittes , in a great maiestie : Then sits there downe by her a dame , called Ladie vanitie . Then downe sits her Compeeres , Follie and Fransie both : Such companie , as for to kéepe , a wiseman woulde be loth . Her Waitors at her borde , are Curiositie Her Chamberline : and next to him stands Carelesnesse harde by : The Cooke that drest the meate : then Nodcoke naturall , Then Iacke an apes , and busie bee , worst manered of them all : Thus furnishist is this borde , with waitors in such sorte : The meates whereof she féedeth most , I néede not make report , I spake of them before : but for her kinde of drinke , No béere , nor ale , nor wine it is : and what then doe you thincke : It is a drincke composde , of drugges of diuers sortes . Discourtesie , Disdaine , Dispight : and mingled with Disportes , Sappe of faire Semblaunce , with secret simulation . With Ioice of herbes of hollow hartes , and faithfull protestation : These drugges with manie mo , puts Fancie in her drinke , Which though they sumwhat please the tast , yet make the bosome stinke : And workes so in their heads , that are not vsed thertoo , That maks them more half mad : for greif , they know not what to do Now syr , this is her drincke , her meate before you know , Her seruauntes I haue shewne you too , that do attende her so . Now Syr , when you haue fed , of Fancies fare one daie : I doe beleeue that you will wishe , your selfe , next day away . I promise you ( of troth ) I did when I was there , And I woulde not be there againe , for twentie pounde I sweare . And more then wishinge too , at borde a loude I cride : I woulde I were awaie , this fare , I cannot I abide . Which when that Fancie sawe , she tooke me from the boorde , And thrust me out of dores , in hast , not speakinge any worde . And flonge me downe the steares , wherewith I caught a fall . That greeued me sore : but yet ( me thought ) I stood content with al. The vsher of the Hall , he tooke mee by and by , And out of doores too in like sorte , he thrust me presently . Then euery Iacke an apes that rid vpon an Asse , Was readie for to ride me still , as I the Courte did passe . The Geese and Ganders hist , the Duckes cride quack at mee : Thus euerie one woulde haue a flyrt , ere I coulde get out frée . The Porter Daliaunce , hee draue me out in hast , And thrust me down so harde the Hill , my neck was almost brast . And vp I rose againe , though brused verie sore , And ment , if once I gat awaie , for to come there no more . Well , limpinge as I coulde , I hit the beaten waie , Of fooles foote stepps : through Forrest back , that led me so astraie . And backe againe I came , to Learninges narrow lane , And there I hit The trackt of Truth , that I should first haue tane , That leaues the Forrest quite : which when I had hit on , I staide a while , and there my walke I gan to thincke vpon : And thincking so , I saw a scholler comming by , That came from learned Vertues Schoole : and sighing heauely , I calde him vnto me , and tolde him of my wo , Of my sore fall , from Fancies Forte , and how I caught it so . Which when that he had harde , he tooke me by the hande , And béeing verie weake ( in d●eacute ; ede ) scarse able for to stande . Hee led me to a house of Wisdome , an olde man , His Father ( as he saide ) he was : and there I rested than . This Ientle youth , if I doe not forget the same , Is Honest Reason : so I thincke , his Father cald his name . Where , beeing but a while , my tale I gan to tell , To him , of this my gentle walke : whereat he laughed well . And laughinge so , ( quod hée ) go youth , here take a booke , And write now for remembrance thine , that when thou chance to looke Upon the same againe , then thou mayest take heede still . Of leauinge Wisdoms narow Lane , and follow wanton Will. Lo thus at his commaunde , I wrot it by and by , And this it was , beleeue me now , or els ( at least ) I lye . FINIS .

¶ IN DISPIGHT of Fancie . AH , féeble Fancie , now thy force is nothing worth , Thou hadst me in thy Castel once , but now I am got forth Thou baarst a gallant flagge of lustie brauerie , But I haue séene that all thy showe , is but méere knauerie . Thy Fethers flaunt a flaunte , are blowne awaie with winde , And Falshood is the trustie Troth , that one in thée shallfinde . Thy valure is but vaunts , thy weapons are but wordes , Thou vsest Shales , in stéede of Shot , and signes in steede of swords . Thy Forte is of no force , each foole maie scale the same . And thou thy selfe art but a flirt , and not a noble Dame. As some doo thee accompt , I know thee too too well , And none but Dawes , and Doltes , within thy foolish Forte do dwell . Thy castell is in déede , a Caue of miserie , A place in short space for to bring a man to beggerie . Thy Forte defended is , by Duckes and gardes of Geese , By Iacke an Apes , Asses too , and such gallants as these . Thy déepe delight is all in foolish triflinge toyes , Thou makest a man in things of nought , to set his chiefest ioyes . Thy Schoole maie well be called , The Schoole of littell skill , Thy Schoolers most are waywarde wits that follow wanton will . Thy Lessons lothsome are , thy selfe a Mistris too Of naught but Mischiefe which thou most doost make thy Schollers doo Thy Pleasure bréeds Mans paine , thy Game doth turn to Greefe , Thou woorkest many Deadly woe , but few doost lend reléefe . Thou makest a man to gaine Dishonour and Defame , Thou makest him thinke a Stinking Slut too bee a Gallant dame . Thou makest him Hang on hope , and drowne in Deepe dispaire : Thou makest him like a mome to build , High Castels in the ayre . Thou makest him thinke Black , White , & when that all is knowne Thou makest him Like an asse to see A fooles head of his owne . Thou art The cause of care , but comfort very small , And so what euer is amisse thou art the cause of all . My selfe haue seene all this that I report and more , Thou madest mee thinke that did mee good , that greeued me ful sore But long I was so blinde , thou so hadst dimd my sight , That I could neuer see the craft of this thy deepe dispight . Till I out of thy Forte , was clerely got away , And came to Graue aduises house , where now I hope to stay . Where when I was arriued by helpe of a deere frende : Trewe reason , one with whom I meane , to keepe till life do ende . Now when that I came there , he did declare to me What ment that foolish Forte of thine , and all that I did se. Which when I well had markt , I did not all repent , My labour in my Iourney so , although my cost I spent . Because thy nature so , and deeds I did discry , Which deeds of thine , I doe detest , and the● I doe defie . And now vnto the worlde , in deepe despight of thee , I shew what a vaine flirte thou art , that euery man may see . I haue set out thy Forte , thy Force , and eke thy Schoole Thy Vshers too that teach therin , a mad man and a foole . Thy lothsom lessons too , and how by greate good happe I am got out , although longe first , out of thy lothsome lappe . What shall I farther say , I haue set out in kinde , Eche peeuish poynt I know in thee , for euery man to finde , Therefore let fall thy flagge , and all thy brauerie , I haue at large I thinke , set out thy subtill slauerie : And that in such a sorte , as who so lust to réede , My whole discourse of thy disceipte , will learns for to take héede . Of all thy gallant showe , they know now what it is , Thou long hast liued vnknowen alas , but now discride I wis . And for my 〈◊〉 , thy Fo●●e I know so well I swere , That I doo meane to kéepe me thence and neuer to come there , But if I doe looke vp , and follow thee againe , Then kéepe me fast within the Forte , and plague me for my paine . But trust I meane it not , with Reason here my freende , I meane to liue in thy dispight , and so I make an ende . And yet before I make a flat ends ere I goo , I will dischardge my stomacke quite , and bid thée farwell so . FINIS .

¶ A Foole , Dame Fancies man , speakes in defence of his Mistris . WHat meanes that mad man troe , that railes on Fancie ●o : That sekes to do hir such dispight , & sweres himself hirso The man mistakes himselfe , it is not Fancie sure , That for to fall into such rage , doth him so much procure . Why Fancie is a fréende , to euerie curteous Knight , Why Fancie is the chiefest thinge , that doth the minde delight . Why Fancie was the cause , wonders first were founde , Of manie fine deuises strange , first Fancie was the grounde . Why , Fancie is the thinge , that moueth men to loue , And tells the Louers what to doo , as best for their behoue . Fancie , findes prettie toyes , to please each Courtelie Dame , Fancie to passe the time in sporte , inuenteth many a game . To Courtiers many one , a good fréende Fancie standes , She makes them reape good liking , at their louing Ladies hands Shee made the Poets olde , deuices to indite , Which they in writinge left behinde , for other mens delight . Shee seeketh vnto none , but many seeke to hir : And those who are seruaunts still , she seeketh to preferre To high degree in time : and that in Court ( perchaunce ) Shee helpeth them , and many waies , doth seeke them to aduaunce . Now som ( perhaps ) againe , that are of grossest wit , And by their dispositions , for Follie Schollers fit . Those now ( perhaps ) in déede , she letteth all alone , with Follie onelie to rewarde , and them regardeth none . But those that are againe of quicke capacitie , Who can consider Vertue wise , from Foolish Vanitie . Such men she chéefelie loues , and such although they know hir Shall haue small cause in tract of time , in deede for to beshrow hir . I may not speake too much , for I am partiall : But what I haue saide , it is true , for I haue tride it all . And therefore sure the man , that rayleth on hir so , Hath done hir wronge , without iust cause , to stand so much hir so . Faire wordes are euer best , backebitinge is too bad . And therfore I doo thinck the man , is either dronke or mad , That seekes hir such dispight , so much without desarte . And by hir countenaunce it séemes , it gréeues hir to the harte . To be so much abusde , but what , no remedie , A wicked tongue doth saie amisse , and will doe till he die : FINIS .

THE LAMENTATION of Fancie . ALas poore silly wretch , now maiest thou wéepe and wai●e , For now thy Forte is of no force , thou canst no more preuaile . Fancie let ●all thy flag , thy brauerie is discride , Thy shifts are seene , wherewith thou thoughtest , thy self from sight to hide The man is got away , whom late I entertainde : And lo by him I am defamde , and all my state is stainde . Why did I not him féede , with some more sweete repaste ? Why did I not deuise to dresse , some toy to please his taste ? I put into his drincke , too much Drugges of dispight , Thou moughst allayd the bitternes , with drammes of swéet delight Why didst thou in a rage , first flinge him from thy lappe ? And leaue to féede him any more , with worldly pleasures pap ? Why did I in my rage , not speakinge anie worde : Take him so roughlie at the first , and set him from my boorde ? And thrust him out of doores , in such a scornefull wise : Thou hadst bene better let him dinde , and let himselfe to rise . Why didst thou throw him downe the steares in such a sorte ? That hee of thy discurtesie may iustlie make report . And beinge falne downe so , why didst thou Vaine delight Thrust him out of doores by force , in such dispight ? You Iacke an Apeses too , why caught you at him so ? To ride him like an Asse , as he alonge the Courte did go . Why did you hisse you Geese ? and Duckes why cride you quacke , To raile on him ? why did you not more gently let him packe ? Why didst thou Daliaunce , so thrust him out of doore ? That made him catch so great a fall , and bruze himself so sore . A las what blame I you ? my selfe I ought to blame , For if I had forbidden it , you had not done the same ? Coulde none of all my Flowers , so faire and swéete of smell , Cause him to haue desire againe , within my Forte to dwell ? Coulde not my Bedchamber , with all my Pictures faire , Make him yet ere he die againe , thither to make repaire . Alasse , I feare he sawe the wordes at my Beds hed . And out of doubt I feare in déede , that sentence he hath redde . And that hath caused him , to loth my Bed and mée , But coulde not all the other sightes , that in the Chamber hée Did sée to moue delight , make him forget the same , Oh no , well Fancie yet séeke none at all to blame , But euen thy onely selfe , who tookest so small regarde Unto a Stranger in such sorte , and handle him so harde . Well , since that hee is gone , and that I am discride , And that from him my shiftes alasse , I can no longer hide I must a warninge take , the next that come againe , Unto my Forte for seruice mine , better to entertaine . And though he thus begon , I doubt not but there be , Some youthes a broade yet in the worlde , that wil come séeke out me , But all that I can euer haue , to ease my paine , Will neuer doe me halfe that good , as to see him againe . Which if I euer haue , I now not sorow soo , But I shall then reioyce asmuch , and ridde me of my woo , Untill which time alasse , I languish still in paine , And so shall doe vntill I see , my gentle youth againe . FINIS .

A FAREWELL To Fancie . FOnde Fancie now farwell , thy Lodginge likes me not , I serued thee long full like a slaue , yet litle gaines I got , Yet though I say my selfe , no slaue that euer serude , Of any mistris in this world haue more reward deserud But hee that bindes himselfe apprentise to a Patch , At seauen yeares ende , will this be sure , to gain sum foolish catch . So Nodcoke I , that longe haue serued thee like a slaue , For my rewarde by dew desart , Repentaunce gained haue . Thou neuer badst me goo , but I woulde runne with speede , If thou didst bid mee staie again , two biddinges should not neede . When I had better runne , when thou didst bid me staie , And better staide then goo on foote , to breede mine owne decaye . When thou didst bid mee looke , I readie was to marke , And woulde not loose the thinge so soone , no not in greatest darck . When better I had been , for to haue shut mine eye , Then for to cast mine eye on that , should worke me wo there by . When thou didst bid me like , I loued by and by : When thou againe badst me mislike , I hated contrarie . What shall I further saye , thou nothinge badst me doe But I was willinge by and by , for to agree thereto . But what for all my paines , haue I now reapt in fine , A goodly gaine Repentance sore , of such great follie mine : When thou didst bid me goo , my running made me fall : When thou didst bid me stay againe , t was for no good at all . Thou madst me studie ofte , but what fonde trifling toies , The Arte of loue , and of the cause of louers greefes and Ioyes . Thou madst me thincke longe while , that louers greefe was game , And that no Ioy coulde be compard , vnto a gallant Dame. Thou madst me thincke longe time , no pleasure like to that , With Curtisans in their kinde , to doe I saie not what . Thou madst me halfe amazed , sum time with franticke fits , and now and then with thoughtes of loue , almost out of my wits . Thou maadst me take delight , in Lodge of Loue to dwell , And for to coumpt that thinge a heauen , which rather was a hell . Thou maadst me thinck that Loue did purchase heauenly Ioy , Which now I see did purchase pain , & wrought naught but annoy . Thou maadst me take delight , to ●et in braue attire , Which now I finde was more in deede , then reason did require , In Fethers flaunt a flaunt , and tossinge in the winde , Thou maadst me take delight , which now a follie great I finde . Thou maadst mee take delight in singularitie , In Tailors worke to haue a tricke , that none shoulde haue but I. Thou maadst me coumpt a praise , some fasshion to deuise , Wherewith I sought in wisemens ●ight my selfe for to disguise . Thou maadst me spende my time , in vaine and folish toies , And euer didst withdraw my minde , from séekinge perfect Ioyes . Thou maadst mee thincke it was a heauen , For to go gay , But neuer hadst me looke in time , how longe it would hould way . In fine , as longe as I was Scholler at thy Schoole , For all the learninge that I got , I prooued my selfe a foole . Thou didst withdraw my minde from Perfect pietie , And maadst me cheifely to delight in worldely vanitie . But now since that I see , that it hath pleased god , To plague me well for my desarts , with smart of mine owne rod : And giue me grace to finde , what gréefes by thee doe grow , And that although vnto my cost , thy nature naught I know . What gaines by thee are got , what pinchinge penurie , What greefe of minde , what plague of purse , what wretched miserie : I now forsake thee quite , and neuer meane to dwell , Neere thee by fifteene thousande myle , and so Fancie , farewell . FINIS .

THE TOYES OF an Idle Heade : Contayninge many pretie Pamphlets , for pleasant heads to passe away idle time withall .

By the same Auctor . N. B.

¶ The Preface . MY friend , who so thou bee , that faine wouldst buy this booke , so passe away the time thereon , in ydle times to looke : If so thou fyndste that like thee not , yet pardon graunt to mee , And wish me from thy harte no worse , then I wish vnto thee . Against my will it shall be much , if many I offende , With these rude rymes which I haue made , vnto none other ende But as I sayde before , for want of other glee , For pleasaunt heads to looke vpon , when they at leysure bee . But some there are I must confesse , gainst whom in great despight , Some running rymes which here you see , I chaunced to indight . But such I count my deadly foes : and such one if thou bee That bu●est my boke , then take the same in deepe despight of thee . But if you be my frien● , and take all in good parte That there you fynde : and thinke it is for want of better Arte. Then here with right good will , I offer it to thee , And doe but thanke me for my paynes , it is ynough for mee . Of troth I promise yee , t' is not for want of will , That rudely thus in rymes I run , but want of better skill . For if that I had Ouids pen , ech worde in printe to place , Or Homers excercyse I had , to giue my verse a grace . Or Tullies Eloquence to talke ▪ as I in minde thought best , Or Aristotles pregnant wit , that passeth all the rest . Some prety peece of worke ▪ perhaps then moughtst thou fynde , Among so many mery toyes , that mought content thy minde . But tush , my beetle brayne , can no such fruictes bring forth , My v●●●es are but ragged rimes , and therefore little worth . My head vnhoodded yet , I ready am to flye , At euery little paltrye bird , that goeth whisking by , I neuer haue respect to any kinde of Game , Like to the hooded Hauke : that kepte a long while tame When that her Ga●●e doth spring , she knowes it by the whurre , And then to make a wing thereat , she gi●●es offyst to st●rre . But till the Game be sprong , on fyst she pearcheth still , But I ( God wot ) to choose my game , haue no such kinde of skill . I stryke at what I may , and geue God thankes for all , And stande contented with the same till better doth befall . And glad I am sometime , to pray vpon a Byrde , I haue no wit to waye the best , but euery worthelesse worde I ready am in ryme to put , although my reason be But small ( God wot , ) and that too small , as you may plainly see . But since you see my simple head , vnhooded ( as it is , ) Accept the symple fruict therof , and be content with this . Vntill I haue the skill , to flye at better Game , Which when I kill , you shall be sure to taste some of the same . But if ye now disdayne these Byrdes , whereon I pray , With better game hereafter I , perhaps will flye away . And lyke a very Churle , then will I parte with none , But feede vpon the best thereof , vnto my selfe alone . Where few or none shall see , what foode I feede vpon , No ▪ nor yet where I hyde the same , till all be spente and gone . Wherefore my friende I say , if so thou doest desyre , More of my workes , and wouldst not haue the rest throwne in the fyre . Skorne not these ragged rymes , but rather soone amend , What so thou fyndst that likes thee not , and so I make an ende . Wishing thee well to fare , if so thou be my friend , But if my foe , then ill and worse , and so agayne I end . Finis .

¶ A prety Dittie in despight of Fantasye . ¶ The Argument . ¶ Since Fantasye fyrst mooued mee , To ryme thus rudely as you see . A prety Dittye of Despight Gaynst Fantasy , fyrst will I wry●● . NOw by my troth , I cannot ch●●se but ●myle , To see the foolish ●yttes of Fantasye : With what deceites she doth the mynde beguyle , As pleaseth best her great inconstancye . As well the wysest , as the 〈◊〉 man , Shee troubleth , I tell you , now and th●n . And no denyall if shée lyketh once , It must be had what euer so it bée : And ech day new Deuices for the 〈◊〉 , Only to please Mistresse fonde Fant●sy . For she can neuer lyke one thing two dayes , Though it deserue neuer so great a prayse . This thing to day , to morrow that agayne , And yet the next day neyther of them both : That now she likes , anon she will disdayne , And whome she loued , séemeth now to loath . Thus chopping still , and chaunging euery day , With vayne delightes she leades the mynde away . She makes the Louer thinke his Lady fayre , Although she be as foule , as foule may bée : Shee makes him eke , build Castles in the Ayre , And very farre in Milstones for to sée . And in the ende , I thinke if all were knowne , Shée makes him sée , a Fooles head of his owne . Shée makes my Lady so much to e●●éeme , Of her gréene pratling Parratte in the Cage : This makes her eke her little Page to déeme , The fynest Boye in England of his age . This makes her set more by h●re tame whyte Deare , Then some would doe by twenty poundes a yeare . And who can choose but laugh to thinke vpon , Such froward fittes of foolish fantasy ? And how alas the minde is woe begon , If that it hath not each thing by and by , That she desyres , what euer so it be , Cost lyfe or death , it must be had , we sée . Shée féedes the mynde of man , with many a toye , Shee makes himselfe to séeke his owne decay : In thinges of nought , shée makes him set his ioye , And from all Uertue leades him quyte away . And shée it is that vaynly caused mée , Agaynst her selfe to ryme thus as you sée . Finis .

¶ A dolorous discourse , of one that was beewitched with Loue. ¶ The Argument . ¶ Since that the passing pangues of loue , Which many Louers ofte doe prooue . I fynd the cause from time to tyme , That made men shew their mindes in ryme ▪ I doe intend in verses few , A dolorous discourse to shew , Of one that was bewitcht in loue , What passing pangues he ofte did prooue . In which God wot , the more his payne , Euen till his death he did remayne . IF I had skill to frame a cunning Uearse , Wherein I mought my loathsome lyfe lament , Or able were in rymes for to rehearse , The gryping gréefes , that now my harte haue hent● . Such priuy pangues of loue I could descry , As neuer any Louer felt , but I. Some say they fréeze , they flame , they flye alofte , And yet they fall , they hope , and yet they feare : The feeld once wonne , yet ielousye full ofte , With vyle suspect , their yrkesome hartes doth teare . They liue and lacke , they lack , and yet they haue , And hauing yet , they lack the thing they craue . They bide in blisse amid their weary bale , With heauy hartes , they shew a smyling face : In figures thus , they tell a mournfull tale , And set their sorrow out with such a grace . That who so reades the same and markes it well , Would thinke a Louers tormentes worse then Hell. Then thinke you what vyle tormentes doe I féele , When all these pangues are but Flea bytes to myne : I neuer came to top of Fortunes whéele , But vnderneath in dolours still doe pyne . I neuer flew , whereby to haue a fal● , Yet stoope I ofte , although my gate be small . Am I not then in case much worse then they ? That flye sometimes , although they fall as fast : Oh yes , my case let any Louer way , And they shall sée , I neuer yet 〈◊〉 tast , One sugred ioye , that they haue swallowed ofte , That flye and fall , although they fall not softe . For they that flye although they catch a fall , Yet whyle they flye , the tyme so ioyfull is ▪ The harme they take by falling is but small , For when vnto themselues they thinke on this , What a fyne flight , but euen ere whyle they had , For ioye thereof , they can not long be sad . But Fortune neuer yet so fauoured mée , To lend me winges to take one little flight , Whereby the harme by falling I mought sée , Or yet in flying fynde the déepe delight . I cannot call to mynde one ioyfull day , Which for a time , my sorrowes may allay . But lye along all weryed with this woe , And know not how to prooue to make a flight : With chilling colde , my ioyntes are frozen so , That when I stryue but euen to stande vpright , I feele my féebled limbes to faynt so fast , That staggering still , downe flat I fall at last . My harte it selfe is bitten so with fro●t . That all my sences now are waxed nome : My tongue his taste of pleasaunt ioyes hath lost , My minde with ●●uell care is ouercom ▪ My dazled eyes are waxed dimme with teares , Which shew the state wherein my lyfe it weares . Myne eares waxe deafe , no pleasaunt tunes they heare , That may reuiue with dole my dulled brayne : Where I was wonte with Musicke for to cheare My heauy harte : now séemes a deadly payne . For ech swéete note , I heare men play or sing , Thorough myne eare like thunder clappes doth ring . But thus to liue , oh what a lyfe is t●is● To liue ( alas ) my sences all bestraught : Though straunge it séeme , yet trust me true it is , Such chilling cold my sences all hath caught . That I can neither heare , nor féele , nor sée , Nor smell , nor taste , and yet aliue must bée . And shall I tell how 〈◊〉 I c●ught this colde ? By looking long vpon thy louely face : For when I did thy heauenly hew behold , And markte there with thy braue and comly grace . Good Lord thought I , what worthy wight is this ? Some heauenly Dame , then Venus sure it is . Venus quoth I ? with that I 〈◊〉 for feare , And shut the windowes of my séeing shoppe : For gréefe whereof my ha●●● did swelte I sweare , Then gan I striue agaynst the hill to hoppe . With gazing eyes to s●are on thée agayne , Whose only lookes haue wrought me all this payne . But when I heard a name to thee assignde , And saw thou werte an earthly Creature : Then gan I thus imagine in my minde , Which way mought I this Ladyes loue procure . To me poore Page that thus sore wounded lye , At poynt of death , yet dying cannot dye . But when I saw mine owne vnworthinesse , And could not call to minde and due desarte : Whereon I mought presume in this dis●resse , To craue of thee some salue for this my smarte . With gréefe thereof , I caught this chilling cold , Which quaking yet , my quiuering corps doth holde . Yet lookte I loe , and stared still on thée , Thinking thereby to fynde some ease of payne : But straight me thought , I sawe thée looke awrye , As who should say , thou di●st my lookes disdayne . Which lowring looke , droue me into this fytte , Which God he knowes how it tormentes me yet . But yet I must confesse at fyrst deare dame , That whote desyre my gréefe hath caused so . But by and by my fi●rce and fyry 〈◊〉 , Was quickly quenchte , 〈◊〉 waues of weary wo. In which wet waues , I too and 〈◊〉 ●m tost , Seeking in vayne , to fynde 〈◊〉 quyet cost . Now ( noble Dame ) since that thou 〈◊〉 playne , How fyrst I caught this gréefe that gripes my harte : And makes me thus 〈…〉 of payne , Since that in thée it lyes to ease my smar●● . And only thée , ( deare dame ) doe not denye To helpe me now , for if thou doest , I dye . But thinke vpon my bitter passion , And eke the passing pangues wherein I pyne : And how fast bound without redemption , I lynger foorth this loathsome lyfe of myne : And how thou mayest with spéede , if thée it please , Both set me frée , and cure my straunge disease . Which if thou wilte , I know for certaynty , Thou canst not choose , but lend me some reléefe : Thou wilt , beholding my calamity , Lend some one graine of comfort to my gréefe . Which when thou doest : for a Phisitians fee , A noble name thy greatest gayne shall ●ée . And so deare Dame , when thou doest thinke vpon The lothsome lyues that Louers oft rehearse : Among the rest , let this of mine be one , Which here to thée doth shewe it selfe in vearse . Then shalt thou sée how farre my passyon , In pangues of loue hath pasde them euery one . Finis .

¶ A Gentleman being on a Christmas Eue in a very sollitary place , among very solemn company : where was but small cheare , lesse myrth , and least musick : being very earnestly entreated to sing a Christmas Caroll , with much adoe , sung as followeth . NOw Christmas draweth neare , And most men make good cheare , With heigh , how , care away : I lyke a s●elye mo●●e , In drowsy dumpes at home , Will naught but fast and pray . Some syng and daunce for lyfe , Some Carde and Dyce as ryfe , Some vse olde Christmas Games : But I oh wretched wight , In dole both day and night Must dwell , the world so frames . In Court what prety toyes , What fyne and pleasaunt ioyes , To passe the tyme away ? In countrey naught but care , Sower Cheese curdes , chiefest fare , For Wyne , a Bole of Whay . For euery daynty dishe Of Flesh or else of Fishe And for your Drincke in Courte : A dish of yong fryed Frogges , Sodde houghes of mezled Hogges , A cuppe of small Tap worte . And for ech courtly syght , Ech shew that may delight The eye , or else the minde : In Countrey thornes and brakes , And many miery lakes , Is all the good you finde . And for fyne Enteryes , Halles , Chambers , Galleryes , And Lodginges many m●e : Here desert Wooddes or playne● , Where no delight remaynes , To walke in too and fro● . In Court for to be shorte , For euery prety sporte , That made the harte delight : In countrey many a gréefe , And small or no releefe , To ayde the wounded wight . And in this Deserte place , I Wretch in wofull case , This merry Christmas tyme : Content my selfe perforce , To rest my carefull corse : And so I end my ryme ▪

¶ In the latter ende of Christmas , the same Gentleman was lykewyse desyred to sing : and although against his will , was content to syng as followeth . THe Christmas now is past , And I haue kepte my fast , With prayer euery day : And like a country Clowne , With nodding vp and downe , Haue past the tyme away . As for old Christmas Games , Or daunsing with fyne Dames , Or shewes , or prety playes : A solemne oath I sweare , I came not where they were , Not all these holy dayes . I did not syng one noate , Except it were by roate , Still buzing lyke a Bée : To ease my heauy harte , Of some , though little smart● , For want of other glée . And as for pleasaunt wyne , There was no drincke so fyne , For to be tasted héere : Full symple was my fare , If that I should compare , The same to Christmas chéere . I saw no kinde of sight , That might my minde delight , Beléeue me noble Dame : But euery thing I saw , Did freat atwo my maw , To thinke vpon the same . Upon some bushy balke , Full fayne I was to walke , In Wooddes from trée to trée : For wante of better roome , But since my fatall doome , Hath so appoynted mée . I stood therewith contente , Till Christmas full was spente , In hope that God will sende : A better yet next yeare , My heauy harte to cheare , And so I make an ende .

¶ The same man being in very great dumpes the same tyme , being likewise intreated to wryte some dolefull Dittie of his owne inuention , wrote as followeth . WHat griping gréefs , what pinching pangues of payne ? What deadly dinte of déepe and darcke annoye ? What plague ? what wo , doth in this world remayne ? What Hellish happe ? what wante of worldly ioye ? But that ( oh Caytife ) I doe daylye byde , Yea , and that more then all the world besyde . If euer man had cause to wish for death , To cut atwo this lucklesse lyne of lyfe : Why stryue not I with spéede to stoppe my breath ? Since cruell care , not lyke a caruing knyfe , But lyke a Sawe , still hackling to and froe , Thus gnawes my harte with grypes of weary woe . What doe you thinke I iest , or that I fayne ? Or Louer lyke , my lyfe I doe lament ? Or that my fyttes are fancies of the brayne , Which wauer still , and neuer stande content ? Or that my sighes are nought but signes of sloath ? Oh thinke not so , beleeue me on my troath . This I protest before my God on hye , If that I could my doloures well declare : I thinke I should such priuy p●ngues descrye , Of sorrowes smarte , as surely seldome are Séene now adayes : I thincke especyally , Yea seene or felte , of such a Youth as I. But some perhaps will ask● , what is my woe ? What is the thing that makes me so to mourne ? And why I walke so solemne too and froe ? I aunswere thus : such fyry flames doth burne , Both day and night , within my boyling brest : That God he knowes , I take but little rest . But shall I tell , how fyrst this flame arose ? And how these Coles were kyndled at the furst ? I may not so my dolloures deepe disclose : For credit me , I would fayne if I durst . But since , alas , I may not as I would , Let this suffice , I would fayne if I could . What if I could ? nay durst : what did I say ? For if I durst , I know full well I could : What could I doe ? no whit more then I may , I know that too : but yet if that I would . I could doe much more then I meane to doe , As thus aduisde : but whether doe I goe ? What néede so many wordes ? so much a doe ? To blaze the broyles that I doe dayly byde : Or else to tell of tormentes too too too , Wherewith I am beset on euery syde . These few wordes naught haue serued the tourne I trowe , Then thousand plagues , but pleasures none I knowe . Finis .

¶ A prety gyrde geuen by a Gentlewoman , to her seruaunt , wherevpon the verses were made as followeth . ¶ Farewell Youth , to your vntruth . WHen as thou badst , farewell to myne vntrueth , I hope thou spakest it but in iest deare Dame : Or else for that you thought that euery youth , Most commonly , is touched with the same : Such youthes there are , I must confesse in déede , As with vntrueth their Ladyes fancies féede . But what of that : tush , I am none of those , Though youthly yeares I cannot well denye : For rather lyfe then trueth , I chuse to lose , By trueth I meane my true fydelitye : Which who so breakes , to him , as to a youth , Thou mayest well say : farewell to thine vntruth . But yet good Lady , say not so to mé● , Till thou doest sée , my trueth by falshood staynd , Which when thou seest , then iustly spit at mée , As at a slaue , whose truth is all but faynd : But till that tyme , say not to myne vntrueth , Farewell agayne , but onely to my youth . For all vntruethes I vtterly denye , And to my trusty trueth , I stowtly stand : And who so list agaynst the same replye , Gainst him with spéede ; I goe with sword in hand : Into the Féeld , the same for to defend , For loe in this , my credit doth depend . And though ( perhaps ) most commonly ech youth , Is geuen in déede , to follow euery gaye : And some of these are touched with vntruth , Yet some there be , that take a better waye : And stande vpon their truth and honesty , More then vppon their foolish brauery . Which two , I count to be the chéefest poynctes , That ech man ought to build his lyfe vpon : And these hold I my chéefe and strongest ioynctes , For what were I , when these two poynctes are gone ? Wherefore deare Dame , as I begon I end : My Youth I graunt , and trueth I still defend .

¶ It chanced not long after that this Gentleman happened to be in the company of his very friend , which at Dyce lost much money : and after his losse , entreated him to write some despightful Ditty to disswade him from Cards and Dyce : which with much intreaty he graunted , and wrote as followeth . MY Friend I say if thou be wyse , Use not to much the Cardes and Dyce : Least , setting all at sincke and syce , Doe make thée know the cost : T will make thée weare a thinne light purse , T will make thée sweare , and ban , and curse : T will make thée doe all this and worse , When once thy Coyne is lost . Therfore take héede in tyme , I say : For tyme at Dyce runnes fast away , No tyme worse spente , then at Dyce play , I put thée out of doubt : And say not , but it was thée tolde , The nearer that thy purse is polde , The more still friendship waxeth colde , Yea all the world throughout . And then when once thy coyne is g●n● , And friendes to helpe thée thou haste none , Nor house nor Land to liue vpon , Oh then , what wilt thou say ? Well , once I might haue taken héede , I had a trusty friend in déede , That tould me true how I ●●ould spéede , If I did hold this way . For who continues in this vayne , Of setting still , both ●ye and mayne , But in the ende he shall be fayne , To leaue it will or nill : And doe the thing that doth despight Most men , though some it doth delight , To them that play to holde the light , Full ill agaynst their will . Leaue therfore ( friend ) while thou art w●ll . And marke the wordes 〈…〉 , If once thy lande thou fall to s●ll , Thy credite will 〈◊〉 : And care not thou , though Gamsters say , These Gamsters , Roysters call I may : What Dastard darest thou not play ? Howe , reach this man a Chayre . Well , if he bring it , sit thée downe , Or else goe out into the towne : If not , then walke thée vp and downe , And beare a tyme his scoffe : And thou shalte sée within a while , How thou mayest fynely at him smile : When he would gladly wish a file , To file his yrons off . For commonly such Knaues as these , Doe ende their lyues vpon thrée trées : Or lye in prison for their fees , For all their bragging out : And though one yeare they goe full gay , And euery day play lusty play : Yet with a Rope they make a fray , Cre seuen yeare goe about . And therefore say they what they list , Take thou still heede of had I wist : And vse not too too much thy fist , To shaking of the Dice : For fyrst thy gayn● 〈◊〉 but sm●ll , The credit lesse , thou 〈◊〉 with all : Thy estimation least of all , Though deare thou buy th● price . Good Lord was not that man halfe madde , That once a prety lyuing had : And would not rest , but out must gadde , To Cardes and Dyce in haste : And vsed them so lustily , Setting , and throwing carelesly : Till in shorte space full foolishly , He spent euen all at laste . Euen so wilt thou I promise thée , If thou doe not geue eare to mée : And leaue thy trouling of a Dye , And that with spéede my friend : For they that vse so lustily , The Cardes and Dyce most commonly : Are eyther brought to beggery , Or hang else in the ende . And now farewell , since that I may , As now , no longer with thée stay : My counsayle therefore beare away , And leaue that vayne delight : That now thou hast in Cardes and Dyce , And learne betimes for to be wyse : Once well warnde , is as good as twyse , And so my friend good night . Finis .

An other Dittie after that , made by the same man ( after a sorte ) in defence of Cardes and Dice , as followeth . TO play at Dyce , is but good sporte , So it be vsed in good sorte : But who delightes in Cardes and Dyse , In déede , I cannot count him wyse : For he that playes till all be gone , With Robin Hoode and little Iohn , May trace the Wooddes : for wyse men say , Kéepe somewhat till a rayny day . But will you therefore generally , Disprayse the Dyce so spightfully ▪ What thing so good that now is vsde , But by a foole may be abusde ? I speake not this vnto that ende , That you should thinke I would defend Dyce playing vniuersallye , But onely vsed moderately . For who so long doth vse the Dyce , Till he thereof hath knowen the pryce , I meane till almost all ●e gone , Then marke this straight way such a one , Beginnes to learne to cogge apace , Whereby he doth so much disgrace , The Cardes and Dyce , that men doe fear● To play , for Coggers euery where . But if that coggers all were barde , And cleanly cutters of a Carde , And euery Gamster would play square , Then some men would hope well to fare , And then would few so much despy●e , As now they doe , both Cardes and Dyse , For neyther Cardes nor Dyce be naught , If men would vse them as they ought . For how can Cardes or Dyce hurte those , That care not whether they win or lose ? But who doe so ? such men these are , As play no more then they may spare : And when they c●me to any Game , They make a pastime of the same : But hab or nab , spéede well who may , And merrily so will spend the day . And what is lost too , ●are well it , Neuer chase nor freate a whit , And they that vse play in this sorte , With Cardes and Dyce make preaty sporte . Then therefore since both Cardes and Dyce , Be good for some men , as I say : Who doth abuse them is not wyse . Nor worthy in my minde to play . Therefore as I begone , I ende , Moderate play I doe defend . Finis .

¶ An other tyme not long after , he chaunced to be in his friendes and betters house : being in his bed aboute midnight , by chaunce awake , heard in the next chamber a Page of the Ladyes of the house , lamenting as he lay in his bed , verye sore his vnhappy estate : which as he could well bea●e away in the morning , put it in verse only for his own reading , to laugh at , but being by his friend intreated , put it as you see among his Toyes ( as one not the least ) which was as followeth . THat I would not perswaded bée , In my yong rechlesse youth : By playne experyence I sée , That now it proueth truth . It is Toms song , my Ladyes Page , That seruice is no heritage . I hard him syng this other night , As he ●ay all alone : Was neuer Boye in such a plight , Where should he make his mo●e . Oh Lord quoth he , to be a page , This seruice is none heritage . Myne Uncle tolde me tother day , that I must take great paine : And I must cast all sloath awaye , If I séeke ought to gaine . For sure quoth he , a painefull Page , Will make seruice an heritage . Yea sure , a great commoditie , If once Madame he doe displease : A cuffe on the eare , two or thrée , He shall haue , ●inally for his ease . I would for me he were a Page , For to possesse this heritage . I rubbe and brush almost all day , I make cleane many a coat● : I séeke all honest meanes I may , How to come by a groate . I thinke I am a painefull Page , Yet can I make no heritage . Why ? I to get haue much a doe , A Kirtle nowe and than : For making cleane of many a 〈◊〉 , For Ales , or Mistresse Anne . My Ladies Maydes will 〈…〉 Page , Alwayes of such an heri●●●● . The wenches they get Coyf●s and Cawles , Frenchhoodes and Partlets ●●ke : And I get nought but checks and braw●●s , A thousande in a wéeke . These are rewardes méete for a Page , Surely a goodly heritage . My Ladies maydes to must I please , But chiefely Mistresse Anne : For else by the Masse she will disease , Me vyly now and than . Fayth she will say , you 〈◊〉 Page , I le purchase you an heritage . And if she say so by the ●●de , T is Cock I warrant i● : But God he knowes , I were as good , To be without it : For all the gaynes I get ●oor● Page , Is but a slender Heritage . I haue so many folkes to please , And créepe and kneele vnto : That I shall neuer liue at ease , What euer so I doe : I le therefore be no more a Pag● , But séeke some other heritage . But was there euer such a pa●●● , To speake so lowde as I : Knowing what hold the mayde● will c●tch , At euery fault they spye : And all for 〈…〉 ●ore ●age , To purchase me an heritage . And if that they may h●●re 〈…〉 , I were as good be ●angde : My Lady shall kno● 〈◊〉 by 〈◊〉 , And I shall sure be bangde : I shall be vsed 〈◊〉 a Page , I shall not loose mine heritage . Well yet I hope the tyme to s●e , When I may run as fast : For wandes for them , as they for me , Eare many dayes be past : For when I am no longer Page , I le geue them vp m●●e heritage . Well , I a whyle must stand content , Till better happe doe fall : With such pore state as God hath sente , And geue him thankes for all . Who will I hope , sende me pore Page Then this , some better heritage . With this , with handes and eyes , Lifte vp to heauen on high : He sighed twise or thrise , And wepte to piteously . Which when I saw , I wisht the Page , In fayth some better heritage . And wéeping thus good God quoth he , Haue mercy on my soule : That ready I may be for thée , When that the bell doth knoule . To make me frée of this bondage , And partner of thine heritage . Lord graunt me grace so thée to serue , That at the latter day : Although I can no good deserue , Yet thou to me mayest say . Be thou now frée , that werte a Page . And heare in heauen haue heritage . Finis .

¶ The same man being desyred the next day following , to sing som prety song to the Virginals , by a Gentlewoman that he made no small accoumpt of : was faine Extempore to endite , and sing as followeth . AMid my ioyes such gréefe I fynde , That what to doe , I know not I : My pleasures are but blastes of wynde , Full well euen now , and by and by , Some sodayne pangues torment me so , That I could euen crye out for wo. And yet perforce no remedy , Néedes must I laugh , when I could m●urne : Yea , ofte I sing when presently , To teares my singing could I tourne : Such lucke haue Gamsters some men say , Winne , and loose , and all in a day . But some there are whome fortune still , Giues leaue to winne , and seldome lose : Oh would to God I had my will , That I might soone be one of those . That are in fortunes ●auour so , Then néede I not thus playne of wo. For if that I were sure at least , For to obtayne that I would craue : Yea though it were but one request , I would desyre no more to haue . I aske but euen one happy day , Let me doe after as I may ▪ And sure I sée no remedy , But euen to hope on happe alone : And that is it that comfortes me , For when hope sayles , all ioyes are gone . Therefore what with hope and dispayre , My ioyes lye houering in the ayre . Which would to God would eyther fall , Or else be driuen quyte away : That I might haue no hope at all , or else that I might happily say . Now haue I found the thing I sought , Now will I take but little thought . Well , yet I hope or e●e I dye , To light on such a happy day : That I may syng full merrily , Not , heigh ho wele , but care away . The Ship full many tempestes past , Hath reacht the quyet Hauen at last . Finis .

¶ The next daye after that hee had written this passyon of Loue , dyuers Gentlewomen being then in the house : he was intreted by two or three of them at once , to make some verses : and one among the rest , being very desyrous to haue her request fulfylled , brought him a pen , and ynke , and Paper : with earnest intreaty , to make some verses vpon what matter he though best himselfe : he very vnwilling to write , not knowing of a sodayne , how to please them al in vearse , and yet desirous to graunt all their requestes , with muche adoe , was in the ende intreated to wryte , as followeth . WHat ? shal I write som prety toy , wil that like Ladies best ? Or shall I pen the prayse of one fayre dame , aboue the rest ? Or shall I wryte at randon else , what fyrst coms in my brain ? No , no : for words once flowen abroade , can not be cald againe . Why then since none of these will serue , what other kind of stile shall I picke out to wryte vpon ? now sure I ●éedes must smile , To thinke vpon my béetle brain , that can no fruite bring forth , But such baldictum rimes as these , as are not reading worth . Fayth Ladies but for shame , I would not write one word at al , In ryme ( at least ) because you sée , my reason is so smal . But since it is such as it is , in déede small and to small , I must desyre you for this once , to stand consent withall . And take the same in as good parte , as if a wyser man Had better done : because you sée , I doe the best I can . And more then can , you cannot craue : for if you doe of mée , Before you aske be sure to goe without , I promise yée . But any thing that well I 〈◊〉 , commaund you all of me , And I will doe the best I can , to please each one of ye . And thus as humbly as I can , I craue of you to lend , Your pacience to my rudenesse this , and so I make an ende . Full sory that I cannot wryte , so fynely as I would , To like your fancies all alyke , for if I could , I would . And so agayne fayre Ladies all , in curteous sorte I craue , As I deserue your fauours so , and friendships let me haue .

¶ Not many dayes after , he saw a Gentlewoman in the house , whom he accoumpted his deare Mistresse beginne to shew her euell countenaunce without cause , and to make very much of another , whome he thoughte very vnworthy of such good happe : and being not a little agreeued to see himselfe causlesse to grow dayly so much out of countenaunce , and his aduersary so vnworthely esteemed : wrote one daye among other , halfe a sheete ofPaper in verse : wherein he priuily shewed his aduersaries vnworthynesse , his Mistresses inconstancy , and his owne euill happe : and finding a fitte tyme , deliuered the wryting to his sayde Mistresse : which , howe shee tooke in worth , that restes : the verses were these . WHen Flattery falles to play the ●lée●ing Knaue , And tryed trust is put out of conceite : And cogging crafte , by subtill shiftes can haue , The gaynes , for which doth faythfull seruice w●ight . Then déepe deceite , must néedes possesse the parte , That doth in déede belong to due desarte . When fond suspect , shall cause a faythfull friend , To déeme amisse of friend , without desarte , And coye conceite , shall cause a fynall end , Of friendship there , where friendes were linkte in harte . Then double dealing must of force preuaile , To winne reward , and faythfull friendship faile . When men are scornde , and shadowes are estéemde , And shels are saude , and Kernels cast away : And deedes be done , and wordes for deedes be déemde , And outward brauery beares the bell away . Then honest meaning must goe chaunge his minde , Or else is sure a colde reward to finde . But when in déede , vyle Flattery false is found , And tryed trust doth reape his due reward : And deepe deceite , is digged vnder ground , And cogging crafte , can get no tale be harde . Then right may haue , that reason doth requyre , And due desarte , may haue his deepe desyre . Lo , thus deare Dame , this for my selfe I wryte , My troth I trow , your selfe haue tryed well : For which ( alas ) I reape nought but despight , The iust cause why , God knowes , I cannot tell . Except by stealth , some fléering flattering Knaue , Hath got the gaynes , which I deserue to haue . Or else perhaps , some false suspect hath bread Mislyking some , of me without desarte : Or coye conceite hath entred in your head , To hate the man , who honoures you in harte , Or double dealing , séekes some secreate meane , Betwixt true friendes , true loue to banish cleane . Or else I doubt some shadow of a man , In my despight some gallaunt wordes hath vsde : On whome I vow to doe the best I can , To seeke reuenge , where I am so abusde . Wherefore good Lady , if such any bée . I humbly craue , hyde not his name from mée . That I with spéede may giue him his desarte , Or else receaue my iust and due reward : For then when you shall see my honest harte , I doe not doubt your harte will be so harde . But you at last , although fyrst somewhat long , Will make amendes to me for euery wrong . And thus in hope , no false and fonde suspect , Of liking yours , shall cause such sodeine chaunge : And that you will such coye conceites reiect , As to your friend , doe make you séeme so straunge . I rest the tyme that reason doth requyre , When my desarte may haue his déepe desyre .

¶ Not long after seeing his Aduersary still creeping in countenaunce , and himselfe almost excluded : sitting on a day alone in his Chamber , thinking of the despight of Fortune , & the want of discrecion , in his discourteous Dame : wrote in haste these verses following . OH what a spight it is , vnto a noble harte , To sée a scabbe without all due desarte . With no account of credit , nor of fame , To winne the loue , of any gallant Dame. Which valiant hartes , with trauayle great and payne , Hauè much adooe , long tyme for to obtayne . My selfe I count of valiancie but small , Yet such as may my credit well defend : And such as in my Mistresse honour shall Be well content , with spéede my lyfe to spende . Which , let me spende , and spende , and spend agayne , Yet shall another sucke my sugred gayne . With much adoe , I once did fauoure winne , Of one in deede , a fayre and gallante Dame : Which my good happe no sooner did beginne , But by and by , to ouerthrow the same , A priuy Patch , a whoreson skuruy Knaue , Inioyed the fruictes , that was my righte to haue . His fléering face , her péeuish fancye pleasde , My tryed troth was put of conceyte : He gladde , I sadde , he well , and I diseasde , He caught the Fish , for which I layde the bayte . He idle sate , and nothing did all day , And yet at night did beare the Bell away . But since I see , that cases so fall out , That valyaunt hartes so little are regarded : And gallaunt Dames will séeme to loue a Loute , And let a noble youth goe vnrewarded . I will no more henceforth such trauayle spende In cases such , and so I make an ende .

Not many dayes after , seeing his Mistresse discourteous dealing , began to put her away , and chuse himselfe an other Mistresse : and being then in the Christmas tyme , presented his new Mistresse , with a new yeares Gifte , in this sorte . THis little Toye to thée , for wante of better shifte , I here presume for to present , as a small Newyeares gifte . The value small whereof , weigh not I humbly craue , But take in worth his great good will , whose friendly harte you haue . To vse braue vaunting words , will winne naught but disdain . But valiant déeds with words but few , be they that credit gain . Therefore for to be bréefe , thus much I doe protest , That if to worke your harts content , within my power it rest : Commaund what so thou wilt , if I denye the same , God let me neuer haue good looke , of any noble Dame. But you perhaps will thinke , these wordes are all but wynde : But doe not so : first trye , then trust , and fancy as you fynde . And let not false suspect , once cause you for to deeme , That there is any one alyue , whome I doe more estéeme . But as I doe protest , so count me your deare friend , Who lykes , who loues , who honours you : & so I make an end .

¶ A verse or two written Extempore , vppon a sighe of a Gentlewoman . I Sigh to sée thée sigh , the iust occasion why , God knowes , and I perhappes can gesse vnhappily . But whatsoeuer I thinke , I meane to let it passe , And thus in secrete sorte , to thinke vnto my selfe ( alas ) Poore little seely soule , God quickly comforte thée , Who could his sighes refrayne , a Dame in such sad sorte to see : The cause whereof I gesse , but not the remedy : I would I could a medicine frame , to cure thy mallady . For if it were in mée , or if it 〈◊〉 bée , To doe the thing oh noble Dame , in déede to comforte thée , My hart , my hand , my sword , my purse , which ( though ) but smal At your commaund I offer here , all ready at your call . Of which if any shrinke , when you vouchsafe to trye , As I deserue , disdayne me then , and God then let me dye . And thus from honest harte , as one your faythfull friend , In few vnfayned friendly wordes , farewell : and so an ende . Finis .

¶ Verses written vpon this occasion : a yong Gentleman , falling in loue with a fayre yong Damsell , not knowing how to make manifest vnto her , the greate good wyll he bare her , vsing certayne talke vnto her , in the end of her talke demaunded of her , whether she could or no : she answered yea , vpon her which yea , he wrote these verses following , and found time to present them vnto her presently , as he wrote them . IF thou canst reade , then marke what here I wryte ? And what thou readst , beléeue it to be true : And doe not thinke , I doe but toyes indyte , For it thou marke in tyme what doth insue , Then thou ere long , perhappes shalt easily fynde , The effect of that , that may content thy mynde . And to be playne , I lyke and loue thée well , And that so well , as better cannot be : What should I say ? I wish that I did dwell , In place where I thy selfe mought dayly sée . That yet at least , I mought inioy her sighte , In whom doth rest the sta● of my delighte . Finis .

¶ A Gentleman talking on a time with a yong Gentlewoman , being apparreled very plainly , she tolde him 〈◊〉 was too playne for him , he must go seeke some gallanter 〈◊〉 more meete for his tooth : to which , aunswering his mynde afterwarde , wrote vpon the same as followeth : and gaue them vnto her to reade . WHen first I saw thée clad , in couloures blacke and whyte , To gaze vpon thy séemely selfe , I tooke no small delight . Thy blacke betokens modesty , thy whyte a Uirgins mynde , And happy he may thinke himselfe , that such a one can fynde . That which is paynted out , with colours fresh and gay , Is of it selfe but little worth , the colours set away . But that deserueth prayse , which of it selfe alone , Can shew it selfe in playnest sorte , and craueth helpe of none . What should I further say ? let ech man choose his choyce , Though some in paynted toyes delight , in playnnesse I reioyce . And why ? because my selfe am playne , as you doe sée , And therefore to be playne with you , your plainnesse liketh me . The playnnesse of your mynde , and eke your playne attyre , For gaye and gallaunt Cotes is not , the thing that I desyre . But noble gallaunt minde , and yet too there with plaine , For now and then in gallant 〈◊〉 , doth déepe deceite remaine . But for in you fayre Dame , both noble gallant minde , And therwith meaning playne in déede , I now do plainly finde . Chuse others what they list , this playnly I protest , Your gallant minde in playne attyre , it is that likes me best .

❧ A comparison betweene a slippery stone , and a trustlesse friend . AS he that treades on slippery stones , is like to catch a fall , So he that trustes to trothlesse friends , shal il be delt withal . But he that lookes before he leapes , is lykest sure to stande , So he that tryes or ere he trust , shall be on surer hande . But once found out a good sure ground , kéepe there thy footing fast so charyly kéep a faithful friend , whose friendship tride thou hast for as some grounds that séeme ful sure , in time wil much decay so som false friends that séeme ful true , at néede will shrink away . And as within some rotten groundes , some hidden holes we sée , So in the hartes of faythfull friendes , so many mischiefes bée . Therefore I bréefely bidde my friends , for to beware in tyme , For feare of further after clappes , and so I end my ryme .

❧ A Dolorous discourse . IF he who lingers forth a loathsome lyfe , In weary wyse , exprest with endlesse woe : To whome care still standes 〈◊〉 hackeling knyfe , To teare the harte that is tormented so : Who neuer felte one howre , nor sparke of ioy , But deepe lyes drownde in Gulfe of foule annoy . Whom Fortune euer frownde on in his lyfe , And neuer lent one lucky looke at all : With whome the Moone and Starres are all at stryfe , Who all in vayne doth dayly crye and call : For comforte some , but yet receiueth none , But to himselfe his gréefe must still bemone . Whose gréefe first grew , in time of tender yeares , And yet doth still continue to this daye : Who all bexent doth chaunge , among the Breares , And still hang fast , and cannot get awaye : Who euery way which he doth séeke to goe , Doth fynde some block , that doth him ouerthrow . Who neuer was , is not , nor lookes to bée , In way of weale , to ridde him of his woe : Who day by day , by proofe too playne doth sée , That Desteny hath sworne it shall be so : That he must liue with tormentes so opprest , And till he die , must neuer looke for rest . If such a one may well be thought to be , The onely man that knoweth misery : I may well say , that I ( poore man ) am hée , Who dayly so doe pyne in penury : Whose heauy harte is so opprest with gréefe , As vntill death doth looke for no reléefe . To swim and sinke , to burne and be a colde , To hope and feare , to sigh and yet to sing : And all at once , are louers fyttes of olde , To many knowen , to som●● common thing : But still to synke , frye , feare , and alway sigh , Are patterns playne , that death approcheth nigh . And doest thou then swéete Death approch so neare , Welcome my friend , and ease of all my woe : A friend in déede , to me a friend most deare , To ease my harte that is tormented so : Happy is he who lightes on such a friend , To bréede his ioyes , and cause his gréefes to end .

¶ A letter sente by a Gentlewoman in verse , to her Husband being ouer sea . WHat greater gréefe , then léese a chéefest ioy ? Then why liue I , that lacke my cheefe delight ? My friend I meane , for whom thus in annoy , In weary wyse , I passe both day and night . For loe , a friend in déepest of distresse , To friend doth yéeld , of euery gréefe redresse . His company doth often driue away ; Such dolefull thoughtes as mought tormente the minde : With friend , a friend , to passe ech dolefull daye , Of comforte greate , may many causes finde . A friend sometime , but with is only sight , His dolefull friend doth many times delight . No greater ease is to some heauy harte , Yea , when it is with greatest gréefes opprest : Then trusty friendes , to whome for to imparte , Such cause of gréefe , as bréedes it such vnrest . For ofte by telling of a dolefull tale , The tongue doth ease , the breast of mickle bale . If harte be glad , what myrth can then be more ? Then when true friendes doe méete with merry cheare , The gréefe forgotte , of absence theirs before , By presence had , doe soddaine ioyes appeare . What shall I say ? as I begone I ende , No ioye to loue , no gréefe to losse of friend . Then my sweete friend in this my déepe distresse , Let me inioy thy company agayne : For thou alone must purchase my redresse , And ease my harte , that thus doth pyne in payne . Thou arte the friend , that euen but with thy sight , Mayest me poore soule , thy dolefull friend delight . What now can ease my pyning pensiue harte , Thus day and night with tormentes sore oppreste : Then vnto thée , my friend for to imparte , Such cause of gréefe , as bréedes me such vnrest . For ofte by telling of this dolefull tale , My tongue will ease , my brest of mickle bale . If thou werte here , my harte that now is sadde , To thinke on thée whose absence bréedes my wo : With thoughts on thée , would soone become so glad , As should forget those gréefes that gripe me so . And as before , so now agayne I ende , I feare to dye , for want of thée my friende . Thou arte my friend , chiefe fr●end , and onely Feare , My Iemme of ioy , my Iewell of delight : God onely knowes , for thy swéete sake my deare , How I in dole doe passe ech day and night . Come therefore , come , with spéede come home agayne , To comfort her , that thus doth pine in payne . ¶ Thy louing Wyfe and faythfull friend , And so will bide , till life doe end .

¶ One sitting in dolefull dumpes by himselfe alone , thinking to haue written some dolorous discourse , was let by occasion : and so for wante of tyme , wrote but only syxe lynes and lefte them vnfinished : the verses were these . ( I lyke them , and therefore thought good to place them amonge other imperfections . ) MY hand here houering standes , to write some prety toye , My mourning mind for to delight , the wants al worldly ioye . And Fancy offereth eke , fyne toyes for to indite vpon , To comforte thus my heauy harte , that is thus woe begon . But all in vayne , for why ? my mind is so opprest with gréefe , As all the pleasures in this world , can lend me no reléefe . Finis imperfecta .

❧ A dolorous verse written by him , that in deede was in no small dumpes , when he wrote them . IF any man doe liue of ioyes berefte , By heauens I sweare , I thinke that man am I : Who at this hower no sparke of ioy haue lefte , But leade a lyfe in endlesse mysery . I sigh , I sobbe , I cannot well expresse , The gréefes I byde , without hope of redresse . So many are the causes of my griefe , That day by day tormentes my mourning mynde , As that almost there can be no reléefe , To ease my harte , till ease by death I fynde . What shall I say ? what pangues but I abyde ? What pleasure that , but is to me denyde ? What sappe of sorrow but I dayly taste ? What mite of myrth , that I can once attayne ? What foule despight doth follow me as faste , To plague my harte with pangues of deadly payne ? Ten thousand Poets cannot paynt the smarte , That I abyde within my harmelesse harte . And why doe I by pen then séeke to shew , The passing pangues that I doe dayly byde ? The pangues I paynt by pen ( God wot ) are few , Comparde to those , which I on euery syde , Am fayne to féele : and that is worst of all , Without all hope of any helpe at all . Then you alas , that reade this mourning vearse , Waye with your selues what loathsome lyfe I leade : And let your hartes some sparke of pitty p●arce , To see me thus ( as one amazde ) halfe dead . Striuing for lyfe , desyring still to dye , And yet perforce must pyne in penury . And thus an end of wryting here I make , But not an end of mourning , God he knowes : For when I seeke one ●orrow to forsake , Another gréefe a new as freshly growes . So that of force my selfe I must content , To dwell in dole , vntill my dayes be spent . Finis .

❧ A Gentleman hauing made promise vnto his Mistresse , to come vnto her vpon a certayn appoynted day , to doe her seruice , brake promise with her , but the next day following , thinking her haste of necessitye so great , but then he might come soone ynough to accomplishe such matters as hee was wonte to doe , came : and confessing his faulte of breach of promise , professing it agaynst his wil , shewing his earnest desire of more haste , craued pardon and recouery of credit loste , in verse as followeth . THough yesterday I brake my word , & therby purchasd blame Yet now too day , as you may sée , I come to kéepe the same . And though this be not halfe ynough , my fault to counteruaile , Yet do not you my word mistrust , though once my promise fails For if ye knew the vrgent cause , that kepte me so away , And therewith saw mine earnest haste , to come agayne this day For to recouer credit lost : I doe my selfe assure , With little sute I should ywis , your pardone soone procure . Well , to be shorte , I hope no harte is of such crueltye , But that in an offender , will regard humillitye . And since that noble Ladies all , are pittifull by kinde . Let some remorce good Lady mine , take roote within your mind And doe not me your seruaunt poore , for one smal fault disdaine , But let me by my due desarte , your fauour get agayne . And though that once I brake my word , in matters of smal weight Yet thinke not therefore otherwyse , in me to rest deceight . For in a case of credit loe , wherein my worde I giue , If that I shrinke or eate my word , then God let me not liue . And if in me to doe you good , by word or deede it rest , Unto my power , I solemne vow doe make , to d●e my best . Finis .

¶ A Gentleman being on a time desyred of diuers of his friendes sitting togeather in companye , to make some verses , which he graunted , and yet not knowing howe to please them al , and yet willing to perfourme his promise , wrote as followeth . SOme pleasaunt heades delight in prety toyes , And some count toyes , most méete for foolish boyes . Some greatly loue to heare a merry ryme , Some stately styles , which doe to honour clyme . Some loue no rymes , what euer so they bée , And some mens mindes , with verses best agree . Thus euery one hath by himselfe a vayne , Which all to please , it were to great a payne . Which since I sée t is farre too much for mee , To wryte what may with all mindes best agrée . I thinke it best since I haue nothing don , To make an ende of that is scarce begon . So shall I well my promise p●st fulfill , In wryting thus according to my skill . Which promise made of myne , I trow was this , To wryte a ryme , and heare a ryme there is . Wherein although but little reason be , Yet ryme ●●●re is , and sence ynough for me . Finis .

¶ A prety Epigram , vpon Welth and Will. WHere Welth doth want , there Will can beare no sway , And where Will wants , there Welth can make no way . In many thinges Welth greatly rules the roste , In some things too , selfe will , will beare a sway . To winne the wager , Welth will spare no cost , Which to subuerte , Will worketh many a waye : And in the end let welth 〈◊〉 what he can : Yet commonly Will standes the stowter man .

¶ A Gentleman marking his Mistresse angry countenaunce without cause , tolde her of it in verse as followeth . BY countenaunce of face a 〈◊〉 may fynde , ( I say fayre Dame , by outward view of face ) Such sundry thoughtes as occupye the mynde : Sometime by one , and este another grace . Looke with that thoughtes the mynde is aye possessed , Straight by the l●●kes , the same is playne expr●●●ed . The frowning face , declares a froward harte , And skouling browes a sullen stomack showes : The glauncing lookes of priuy grutch a parte , Which hidden lyes within the harte , God knowes . The staring looke declares an earnest minde , The trouling eye , vnconstant as the winde . The smy●king looke declares a merry minde , When smyling lookes are for●●● from heauy harte : For some can smyle , that in their hartes could fynde , To wéepe ( God wot ) of gréefe to ease their smarte . But who so smirking smyles with mery cheare , That counten●unce sh●wes , that some good newes is neare . Some fynely vse a wincking kinde of wyle , Some looke alofte , and some doe still looke downe : And so●●e can fayne a frowning kinde of smyle , And some can smyle that in their hartes doe frowne , And so doe I , and so doe many moe , That laugh sometime , when we could wéepe for woe . But euery looke , a meaning doth declare , Some good , some had , some mery , and some sad : The countenaunce shewes how euery one do●h fare , Some gréefe , some ioy , some sullen , and some mad . And though that many be by lookes deceyued , Yet by the lookes , are meaninges playne perceyued . Finis .

❧ Some other Gentlewomen in the company , angry with this toye : pleasde with these prety verses following , AH be not angry so , my wordes were but in iest , And more then that , I ment them not , by you I doe protest . I saw no lookes to light , nor frowning ouermuch , Nor any such like sullein lookes , as might shew inward grutch . Nor smyling wantonly , but with such modesly , As might declare a merry minde , but with sobriety . But such as séeme to p●ute , without iust cause in déede , Or else vpon their friends wil fayn , a frowning more then néede . Or giglet lyke will laugh , or else with anger swell , And deale in lookes disdaynfully , with them that wish them wel Gaynst such it is I wright , but none of you are namde , Then do not you accuse your selues , and you may go vnblamde . And this what I haue sayd , take well in worth therefore , If I did ill agaynst my will , I will doe so no more .

¶ A prety toye written vpon Tyme . AS I of late this other day , lay musing in my bed , And thinking vpon sundry toyes , that then came in my hed . Among the rest I thought vpon , the setting out of Tyme , And thinking so vpon the same , I wrote this ragged ryme . Tyme is set out with head all balde , saue one odde●lock before , Which lock if once you do let slip , then looke for Tyme no more . But if you hold him fast by that , and stowtly doe him stay , Then shall ye know how he doth passe , before he goe his way . And if you kéepe him tyde by that , good seruice will he doe , In euery worke what so it be , that you will put him to . So that you looke vnto his worke , that he not ydle stand : For if he doe , some Knauish worke , himself will take in hand . And then t were better want the knaue , than haue him serue you so When you do think he doth you good , that he should work your wo. I reade besydes he paynted is , with winges forsooth to flye , And Mower lyke with Sythe in hand , and working earnestly . And in his worke still singing thus : This da●e I boldly say , Saue Vertue , all thinges I cut downe , that stand within my way . But Vertue neuer will decay , she goes before me still , But since I cannot , let her stand , I le cut else where my fill . But t is no matter , hold him fast , by that same lock I say , And neither words , nor yet his wings , shal help him get away . By chance my selfe haue caught him fast , but euen this other day , And by that locke I hold him fast , for slipping yet away . And by that locke as thus aduisde , I meane to hold him so , But I will knowe or ere he passe , which way he meanes to go . And since I caught him so , I thinke he hath not ydle stood , But somewhat he is doing still , although but little good . And as this morning I by chance , did sée him ydle stande , I thought it good to make him take , a Pen and Inck in hande . And hauing little else to doe , to spende a little tyme , In true discription of himselfe , to pen this trifling ryme . Which time nor well , nor yet ill spent , stands til an other time , Some better seruice for to doe , and so I ende my rime .

❧ A prety Discourse of a hunted Harte , Written by a Gentleman , vnto his Mistresse . TO reade a dolefull tale , that tels of nought but greefe , And of a man that pynes in payne , and lookes for no releefe . Whose hope of death seemes sweete , & dread of lyfe seemes sower , Who neuer bid one merry month , one weeke , one day , or hower . In such a tale I say , if any doe delight , Let him come read this verse of myne , that here for troth I wright . And though the speech seeme darke , the matter shall be playne , And he pore wretch of whom it treates , to well doth feele the paine .

❧ A prety Discourse of a hunted Hart. THere is a pretye Chase , wherein doth rest a Hart , Wherin for his abode ( poore wretch ) he kéepes one only part . Adioyning to this chase , there is a prety place , where stands a Lodge , wherin doth dwel , the Lady of the chase . This Lady now and then for sport , somtime for spight , To hunt this s●lly harmlesse Harte , doth take a great delight . And how ? with houndes ( alas ) and when she huntes for sport● , With little Whelps that cannot bite , she hunts him in this sort . Two little whelpes I say she casteth of at once , To course and eke to feare him with , as méetest for the nonce . And with these little whelps , she bringes him to the bay And then at bay she takes them vp , and let him goe his way . And if for spight she hunt , she takes another way : She casteth of no little whelps , to bring him to the bay . But cruell byting Curres : at once she castes of all , And with those cruell cankred Curres , she followes him to fall : And being ( falne poore wretch ) pyning in extreame payne , She casteth of her cruell curres , and lets him ryse agayne Untill she hunts agayne , to make her selfe like sporte , And then euen as she is disposde , she huntes him in lyke sorte . Thus liues this harmlesse Harte , opprest with endlesse wo , In daunger still of death by Dogges , and yet cannot dye so . And neyther daye nor night , he féedeth but in feare , That these same Dogs should lye in wayte , to course him euery where . Thus restlesse restes this Harte , and knowes not how to rest , Whose hope of death in midst of course , is it that likes him best . God sende him better rest , or spéedy death at least , To rid him of his great vnrest , and bréede him quyet rest .

❧ The meaning of the Tale . BUt wherto tendes this Tale ? what first may meane this Chase ? And then the Harte , which in the same doth keepe one only place ? The Plot where standes the Lodge , the Lodge , and then the Dame , which hunts the Harte : & last the Dogs which do pursue the game ? A meaning all they haue : which meaning I must showe ? And that so plaine as in each point , the meaning you may knowe . My Carkase is the Chase , my Harte the sellye Harte : Which for his rest , my woefull brest , doth keepe that onely parte . The Platte where standes the Lodge , my Head I count that place : My Minde the Lodge , my Loue the Dame , & Ladie of the Chase. Her Dogges of diuerse kindes , that doo my Harte pursue , Sometime to baye , sometime to fall , are these that doo ensue . And first the Dogges , with which shée huntes sometime for sport To bring my Harte vnto the baye , and leaue him in that sort . Are these beleeue mee nowe : Discountenaunce is the fyrst . The seconde is Discourtes●e , and of the two , the worst . Discountenaunce hee comes first , and feares mée in this wyse : He hangs his lyppe , holds downe his head , & lookes vnder his eyes . And with that angry looke , hee feares mée in such sort , That I maye not abyde the same , and then beginnes the sport . For then shée casteth of Discourtesse that Curre : And then do what I can , alas , my Harte beginnes to sturre . And weerie halfe at laste , I stande with them at baye : and so at baye for my defence : I somewhat gynne to saye . Which sayde , shee then takes of those hylding Curres againe . And leaue mée tyll shée hunt againe , thus pyning all in paine : And nowe the Cruell Curres , with which shée takes delight , To hunt my Hart euen tyll he fall , are these : not first , Despight , But fowle Disdaine : then hée , which Curres do course him soe , That to the fall they bring mée ofte , and yet then let mée goe : So that my Harte doth lyue , but howe ? alas , in dreade Of these same deuillish Dogges : & so styll shall , tyll I bée dead . Who would not blame this Dame , that thus without desart . With these her cruell cankred Curres , doth hunt this séely Hart , And curse those cruell Curres , that thus doe make her sport : Both day and night without cause why , doe hunt him in such sort . And wish this séely Hart with endeles griefes opprest , To scape the daunger of the Dogges , and finde some quiet rest , But wish who li●t to wish , except that you , déere Dame , Among the rest do wish that wish , no wish wyl helpe the same . But if that you in déede , so wish among the rest , And hartely do wish that wish , your wish wyll helpe him best . FINIS .

❧ A straunge Dreame . ¶ Who so he be on earth , that wisely can deuine Vppon a Dreame : come shewe his skyl , vpon a Dreame of mine , Which if that well he marke , sure he shall finde therein , Great misteries I gage my lyfe , which Dreame did thus begin . ME t●ought I walked too and fro , vpon a hilly land , So long , tel euen with wéerinesse , I could wel scarcely stand And wéery so ( mee thought ) I went to leane against an Oke , Where leaning but awhyle , mée thought , the tree in peeces broke . From which , me thought , to saue my life I lightely skipt away , And at the first , the sight thereof my senses did dismay : But when I stayed so a whyle , and looked rounde about , And sawe no other dreadfull sight , I knewe not what to doubt , But to some house ( mée thought ) alas , I wisht my selfe full fayne : But when I looke , and could not see one house vpon the playne : Good Lord ( thought I ) where am I nowe ▪ what desart place is this Howe came I here ? what shall I doo ▪ my hart full fearefull is . And therewithall ( mée thought ) I ●●ll flat downe vppon my knée : And humble praiers made to God , on highe to comfort mée . And praying so , vppon my knées , mée thought , there did appeare A gallaunt Lady , all in white , with mery ioyfull ch●●re , Holding a Citterne in her hand , wherewith to mée she came : And gaue it mee desiring mée , to play vppon the same . More halfe afeard , to sée this sight , O Lady fayre quoth I. My skyll too simple is , God wot , to sound such hermony . Yet playe quoth shee , the best thou canst , it shall suffice I say , Doo thy good wyll , I craue no more , and therfore ( pray thée ) play . With that , mée thought , I tooke the same , and sounded by and by , Not knowing what I dyd myselfe , a Heauenly hermony , Unto which tune the Lady then , so swéete a song did sing : As if I coulde remember it , it were a Heauenly thing . Of all which song one onely steppe I styll d●e bea●● in minde , And that was this : There is no ioye , vnto 〈◊〉 of minde , No plague , to pride : no woe , to want : no greefe , to lucklesse loue : No foe to fortune : friend to God : no trueth , tyll ●●yall proue . No Serpent , to sclaunderous tongue : no corsey vnto care . No losse , to want of liberty : no griefes , to Cupids snare . No foole , to fickle fantasy , that turnes with euery winde . No torment , vnto Ielosy , that styll disturbes the minde . Lo , this was all I bare in minde , the rest I haue forgot : Unto my greife , O God he knowes : but since I haue it not , Well , let it passe : this Lady fayre when she had sung her song , She layde mee downe a Napkin fayre vppon the ground along : As white as snowe : which when I sawe , I m●zed what she ment : But , then ( mée thought ) from thence , againe a lyttle space she went , And calde mee thus ? hoe maides I say ? when wyll you come away . T is time that dinner redy were : t is very nere middaye : Wherwith , mée thought , from out no house , but from a bushy bancke . came out eight Damsels , all in white : two and two in a rancke : In order right : and euery one , a fine Dish in her hand , Of sundry meates , some this , some that , and down vpon the land : They layde mée downe their Delycates , wheras this Napkin lay ▪ Which done , fowre of them staied styl , the rest went straight away , Unto the place from whence they came , the Bushy Banke ( I meane ) And sodenly , I wot not howe , they all were vanisht cleane . But , to goe onwardes with my Dreame , in order briefe I wyll , To make discourse of these fowre Dames , behind that staied styl , First , one of them fell downe on knée , and solempnely sayde Grace : Another , shee with Pleasant Herbes , bestrowed all the place . The thirde ▪ shée with a Bason fayre ▪ of water swéete did stande , The fourth , demurely stoode , and bare a Towell in her hand , I standing styll , as one amazd , to sée so straunge a sight : Yet séeing nothing , but might serue my minde for to delyght , The Lady ( Mistris ) of them all , that kept her Royall seate Rose vp , and comming towardes mee , did greately mée entreate , To come vnto her stately b●●rde : séeing me styll yet to stand Amazed so , s●e 〈◊〉 he● selfe , and tooke mée by the hand . Come on , and 〈◊〉 downe , quoth shée , be not afrayde I say , And ●ate quoth 〈◊〉 , for well I knowe , thou hast not dinde to daye . Fayre Dame , quoth I ▪ I cannot eate , my stomacke serues mee not , Therefore I pardon craue : quoth she , thou art affraide I wot : To see this seruice here so straunge : indéede , t is straunge to thee , For men , but 〈◊〉 , or none , d●e come our seruice here to sée . And h●●py ●hou m●ist thinke thy self , that thou ●amst here this day , Fo●●ery fewe 〈…〉 byll , can hap to hyt the way . We liue within these desart woodes , lyke Ladies all alone , With M●sicke , passing forth the day , and ●ellows we haue none , Wée are not like the wretches of the world , in many a place , That many si●es , for feare or shame , dare scarsly shew their face . We spende the day in fine disport , somtime , with Musicke sweete , Somtime with Hunting of the Hart , somtime , as we thinke meete , With other Pastimes , many one : somtyme with pleas●nt talke . We passe the tyme , somtime for sport , about the Fyelds we walke , With Bowe and Arrowes ( Archar like , ) to kill the stately Déere , Which being slayn , we roste & bake , & make our selues good chéere Our meate , we roste againe the Sunne , wee haue none other fire , Swéete water Springs , do yéelde vs drinke , as good as we desire . For herbs and roots , we haue great store , here growing in the wood , wherwith we many dainties make , as we our selues thinke good ▪ In Sommer time , our Houses here : are Arbers made of Trees , About the which in sommer time , do swarme such Hiues of Bée ▪ As leaues vs then , of hony sweete , such store as well doth serue , In stéede of Sugre , all the yeare , our fruictes for to preserue . Besides , they yeld vs store of waxe which from the Hiues we take : And for our lights , in winter nights , we many Torches make . For then our houses all are Caues , as well thy selfe shalt see , UUhen thou hast dinde , for I my self , wil go and shew them thée , Therefore , be bolde and feare no more , for thou ●halt go with mee , From perils al , within this place , I wyll safeconduct thee : And tast of one of these same herbes , which thou thy selfe likst best , The fayrest flower , trust me oft times ▪ is not the hulsomme●● . But as for these same herbes , or flowers , 〈…〉 ▪ There is not one , but is right good , 〈…〉 Take wher thou lyst I geue thée leaue ▪ 〈…〉 pul of thy gl●ue , & wash thy hands . 〈…〉 maid brought m● A bason fayre , of water cleare , which ga●● 〈…〉 so sweete : That credit me , mée thinkes almost , that I doe smell it yet . UUherein I softly dipt my hands , and straight to wipe the same , Uppon her arme , a towel brought , an other gallant dame . Of whome . I could none other doe , but take in court●ous sorte , UUith humble thankes , for seruice suche , and so for to be short . UUith reuerence done , vnto the Dame , who kept her 〈◊〉 seate ▪ I sat me downe : and hongerly ( mée thought ) I fell to eate . First of a S●let , that mée thought , hard by my trencher stoode : UUhereof at first , mee thought the tast , was reasonable good . But being downe , if left ( alas ) a bitter tang behinde : Then that I left , and thought to taste , some herbes of other kind , And there withall , I gan of her , in humble sort to craue , The roote , that I had tasted so , what name the same might haue ▪ It is Repentaunce roote , quoth shee , whose taste , though bitter bée : Yet in the Spring time , holsome ●is ▪ and very rare to see : But , in the ende of all the yeare , when it is nothing worth ▪ In euery foolishe fielde it growes , to shewe the braunches forth . But , if the taste thou lykest not , then set awaye the same , And taste of somwhat else , quoth she , & straight ( at hand ) a Dame. Stoode réedy by , at her commaunde , to take the Dish away : Which done , then of an other herbe , I gan to take a say , Which better farre did please my taste , wherof I fedde o● well . Good Lady , quoth I , of this herbe vouchsafe to mée to tell The proper name ? This holsome herbe : is called Hope ( quoth shée ) And happy ●e who of this herbe , can get a peece of mée , This herbe preserues the life of man , euen at poincte of death . when they are spéechles , often times , this herbe doth l●nd them breth . This driues Dispaire , from brainsick heds , this salueth many a sore : This is releife , to euery greife , what vertue can be more ? Féede wel theron , quoth she , and thou shalt ●●nde such ease of mind , As by no meanes , but onely that , is possible to finde . O Lady fayre quoth I , I humble thanckes doe yeilde , For this thy friendly fauour great , but nowe , if to the fyelde , Wheras this herb so rare doth grow , if you wyl deigne ( faire dam● ) 〈◊〉 to conducte : and shewe mee eake , the true roote of the same , Twise happy shal I thincke my selfe , that thus by chaunce I found , So courteouse a noble Dame , and such a fertyl grounde . The roote ( quoth she ) yes , thou shalt sée , when thou hast dinde anon , Both roote and herbe & ●ake the ground , which it doth grow vpon . Dine Lady , quoth I , I haue dinde : this herbe hath fyld mée so , That when you wyll , I ready am vnto that grounde to goe . Which gr●unde , and roo●e for to behould , I haue so great desire , That tyll I sée the sam● , mée thinkes , my hart is styll on fyre . Well , then quoth shée , since after it I sée thou longest so , I wyll my dinner shorter make , and with thée I wyll goe , And bring thée to the place , where thou both roote and herbe shalt sée : And gather eake a peece therof , and beare awaye with thee . And therwith from the boorde shée rose , and tooke mée by the hand , And led mée ouerthwart , mée thought , a peece of newe digd land , And so from thence into a wood , in midst wherof , mee thought : Shee brought mée to a greate wilde Maze , which sure was neuer wrought By Gardeners hands , but of it self , I rather gesse it grew , The order of it was so straunge , of troth , I tell you true . Well , in , into this Maze we went : in midst whereof wée founde , In comly order , well cut out , a pre●y péece of grownde , The portrayture whereof , was lyke the body of a man , which viewing well , foorthwith mee thought thys Lady gan ▪ To knéele her downe vpon the grounde , hard by the body loe , and there she shewed mée the herbe , that I desired soe : And ●ake the order howe it grewe ▪ which viewing well at last , Shée brake a péece , and gaue it mée to take therof a taste , Fresh from the ground : which d●n straight way , wel now the roote qd she , Thou lookest for : but stay a whyle , and th●● it strayght shalt see , The roote is like an other root● , but onely that in n●●e : In difference from all other rootes : and to declare the same , When thou hast séene it ▪ thou shalt knowe : ● therwithal quoth shee ▪ Come heere , beholde the roote which thou desirest so to see : And therwith digging vp a 〈◊〉 , shee 〈◊〉 verye pl●●ne , The fashion of it howe it grewe , and 〈◊〉 she 〈◊〉 agayne The Turfe in place , wheras it was : O Lady fayre quoth I. If one should seeme to cut the roote , 〈◊〉 ●ould the herb then dye ? No no quoth shee , vntyll the roote be plucked quite a●ay : the roote it selfe , ●● sure of this ▪ wyll neuer quite 〈◊〉 . Then would I cr●●● a péece therof ( quoth ● ) O 〈◊〉 D●●e . That I may knowe it , if againe , I cha●●●e to ta●●e the same . The taste quoth shee vnpleasaunt is , I tell thee that before : But where the roote . doth rancor breed ▪ the herb● wyl 〈◊〉 the sor● . But yet to make thee for to knowe , the taste therof , quoth shee , She raisde the Turfe , and of the roote she brake a peece for mee : And downe she layde the same againe , in order as she found . That scarsely wel it could be seene , that shee had raisde the ground . Well , I had my desyre therein , but tasting of the same , It was so bitter in my mouth , that to allaye the same , I was full glad to take the herbe : which as t●e Dame did say , The bitter taste of that vile roote , did quickly driue away . And then in humble sort , quoth I , O fayre and courteous Dame , Since that this roote , ( as you doe say ) doth differ much in nam● From other rootes , O let mee knowe what his true name may bée ▪ His name quoth she , Necessitie is , truely credit mée ▪ And of these Rootes , some lesse then some : but bigger that they bée , The more doth Hope spred forth his leaues : & som do go with mee . Nowe I haue showne thee thy desyre , this hearb , this ro●te , & ground , I back again wyl bring thee to the place , wher first thy self I found . So to be short , we b●cke returnde vnto the place againe , From whence we went , where sitting styll , attendant did remain These fowre faire Dames , whom ther we left : But al the dishes they , And what else on the Boorde was left , they al had borne away . Well , being come vnto the place , vp rose they all at once : And to this Ladie reuerence dyd , and lykely for the nonce . They knew their Mistresse minde right well , her vse belike it was , Of water cleere vpon the ground , they full had set a Glasse . Hard by the Glasse , a Towell fayre , and by the Towell , Flower● : Loe , Youth quoth she , how likst thou now this seruice heere of ours ? Coul●st thou thus lyke , to lyue in woods , & make thy chiefe repaste ? On hearbs ▪ and rootes , as we do heere ? or else the lyfe thou haste ? Troubled , tormented , euery howre , and that with endlesse griefe ? In ●ope of helpe ▪ and nowe againe , dispayring in reliefe ? Styll to reserue ? We heere thou seest , do lyue in quietnesse : Wée passe the tyme without all care , in myrth and ioyfulnesse . Wée feare no foe , wée féele no woe , we dreade no daungers great , we quake not here , with too much cold , nor burn with extréem heat . UUe wish not for great heaps of gold , such trash we do despise , We pray for health , & not for wealth : and thus in pleasant wyse UUe spende the daye full ioyfully , we craue no rytch attyre : This thinne white wéede , is euen asmuch , as we do héere desire . UUée haue our Musicke sweete besydes , to sollace nowe and than Our wéery minds , with other sports : and now , how saist thou man ! If thou mayst haue thy choyce , which wouldest thou rather do ? Leade heere thy lyfe , lyke one of vs , or else returne vnto The loathsome lyfe , that now thou leadst ? pause on this that I saye ▪ If th' one thou chuse , héere tary styl : if th' other , hence away . Thou must returne from whence thou comst , I put it to thy choyce : If th' one thou chuse : of thy good happe , thou euer mayst reioyce : But if thou chuse amysse : poore wretch , then thank thy self therfore , Consider well , vpon my wordes : as yet I saye no more . With that more halfe amazd● hereat still standing in a muze , Not knowing what were best , to doe , to take or to refuze The proffer made mée by this Dame , I humblye fell on knée : Beseeching God , to graunt mée of his grace , to gouerne mee , To make mée chuse that choyce , the best mought please his holy wyll : And sitting so in humble wise , on knée thus praying still , The Dame expecting earnestly , some aunswere at my hand . So long , quoth shée , vpon this choyce : why doo you studying stand ? Some aunswere briefely let mée haue , what euer so it bee : What ? wilt thou back retorne againe ? or wilt thou bide with me ? One way fayre Dame , quoth I , I gladly here would staye , And leade my life here styll with you : but nowe , another way , Reason perswades mée , to returne : thus in a doubt twixt both , I one way lou● , the lyfe I led : another way I loth . So that remayning thus in doubt , a certaine aunswere for to giue , Whether backe agayne for to returne , or in these wods to liue I most desire , I cannot sure : therefore I pardon craue , And for an aunswere flat , I may some longer respit haue ? O no quoth she , I cannot graunt thée longer tyme , not nowe To pause vpon these words of mine : and therfore since that thou Wylt backe returne , loe , here behold , this narrow foote path here , Go followe this , vntyll thou comst vnto a Temple néere : Then leaue this pathe , and presently , crosse ouer to the same : And there for further help from thence , your praiers humbly frame Unto Dame Pittie , and her tell , that strayght from mée you came , And she wyll helpe you for my sake , Dame Patience is my name , And for a token true , that you were sent to her by mée : Say , Patience , wyll Pittie moue , and she wyll credit thée : And so farwell , when thou hast ben , a yéere or more away , If thou wilt hither make returne , and be content to stay , Though thou béest wounded many a way , & plagde with many a sor● thou shalt haue ease of euery greef : & then what wouldst haue more ? And so my Youth quoth shée , adue , I may no longer stay , Haue good regard to this foote path , for feare thou goe astray : And for a farewell , eare thou goest , to mee thy courteous friend , In song come beare a part with mée , which being at an ende , Then fare thou well : and therewithal an Instrument she tooke , And bade one of her Maides with spéede ▪ go fetch her forth a booke , Which term●d was , T●e trackt of tyme , which by ● by me thought , Ere one coulde well say , thus it was : in humble wyse she brought , UUith such an humble reuerence , doune to this noble Dame : That sure it would haue do●● one good , for to haue seene the same . UUell , opening the Booke of Songs , and looking well therein : At last she stayde , and on she playde , which Song dyd thus begin . Who seketh farre in Time shal find , great choyce of sundry change , In Time a man shall passe the Pikes , of peryls wonderous strange : But he that trauaileth long Time , to seeke content of minde , And in the ende in trackt of Time ▪ his owne desire shall finde , And being well , is not content , to keepe him where he is . His Time is lost , vnworthy he to finde the place of blisse : One Time , a fault may be forgeuen , but if thou once obtayne the place of res● : marke well the way , vnto the same agayne . For if thou once doe misse the way , or hast the same forgot , thou wander mayst , a tediouse Time , & neare the neere , God wot : Therefore in Time I warne thee well to haue a greate regarde : the way thou goest , for to returne , for trust mee it is hard . And so for want oflonger Time , I needes must make an ende , take ●ime enough , marke wel thy way , and so farwel my friend . Tyll ●ime , I see thee here againe , which ●ime let me not see , tyl Time thou canst content thy self , to spend thy Time with me : And so take ●ime while ●ime wyll serue , els ●ime wyl slyp away , So once againe adewe quoth shee , I can no longer stay . With that me thought this heauenly Dame , with all her maides was gon : And I poore soule ▪ vpon the hyll , was left so al alone : Where taking héede , vnto the path , which shée had shewde mée so , Crosse ouerthwart the hyll ( mée thought ) I gan to goe : At foote whereof , harde by the path , mée thought a Riuer ran , and down the streame in a smale boat , me thought there came a man And by and by he calde to mée , to aske me if I would , Come take a boat to crosse the streame ? and if I would , I shoulde : Nowe crosse the riuer strayght ( mée thought ) I sawe a beaten way , Lykely to leade vnto some Towne , whereat I gan to stay : But nought I sayd : and therwithal ( mée thought ) I plaine dyd sée , The Dame who late had left mée quite , approching néere to mée . And being néere come to mée , mée thought she stoutly sayde , why do you lose your labour so ? what cause hath héere you stayde ? Keepe on your way , and lose no Tyme , and happy sure art thou , Thou tookst not boate or ere I came ? but quite past danger now : My selfe wyll bring thée thyther , where the Temple thou shalt sée , wherto I gaue thee charge to go , and so ( mée thought ) quoth shee , Come follow mée , and by and by no great waye we had gon . But strayght she brought me to the hyll , this Temple stood vpon . And ther ( me thought ) these words she said . Go knock at yonder dore And say thou art a seely wight , cast vp on sorrowers shore : Brought in the Barke of wearie b●l● , cast vp by waues of woe , The Barke is burst , thou saude alyue , dost wander too and froe . To seeke some place of quiet rest , and wandring so about The hyl of Hope , where Patience , dwels , by chance thou foundest out , From whome thou presently dost c●me a message to declare . Beare this in minde , thou shalt get in , well warrant thee I dare . And when thou comst into the Church , marke wel on the right hand ▪ within the Quyre all cladde in why●e , doth Lady Pittie stande . To whome with humble reuerence . saye this for thy behoue ▪ I do beleeue that Patience , in tyme wyl Pittie moue . And thus this lesson I thèe leaue , which if thou heare in minde , Assure thy selfe ▪ straight at her handes , some fauor for to finde . And thus , quoth shée , againe farewel , though me no more thou see , Tyll backe thou dost returne againe , yet I wyll be with thee , And guide thee so , where so thou goest , that thou thy self shalt see , In many Melancholike moodes , thou shalt be help●● by mee . And therwithall , I knowe not howe , she vanished away , And I vnto the Temple straight , began to take my way . And to the doore , as I ●ad charge me thought I came . And tooke the ring ▪ in my hand ▪ and knocked at the same : Who knocketh at the doore , quoth one ? A silly wight , quoth I , Cast vp of late ▪ on sorrowes shore , by tempests soddenly : Brought in the barke of weary bale , cast vp by waues of w●e , Since when , to seeke some place of rest , I wandred too and froe , And wandring so , I knewe not howe , vnto a mount I came , Whereas I found in comely sort , a noble courteous Dame : The Mount is cald , the Hyl of Hope , where doth Dame Patience dwel : From whome I come : Welc●me quoth he , I know the Lady wel . With that the doore , was opened , and in ( mée thought ) I went , Wherewith mée thought , I hard a voice , a sobbing sighe that sent , Wherewith somwhat amazd , at first though greatly not afraide , Styll staring round about ( awhile ) this stately Church , I stayde : And as before Dame Patience , to mee at parting tolde , Within the Quier , on the right hand ( mée thought ) I did behold A gallant Dame , all clad in white , to whome for my behoue , These wordes I sayde : Dame Patience , I Hope wyll Pittie moue : With that ( me thought ) this Lady saide , I know thy deepe distresse , and for my friend Dame Patience sake , thou shalt haue som redresse . And therewithall , mée thought she sayde , vnto an aged sire , Which in the Temple , hard by sate : Father I thee desire To shewe this Youth , the perfect path vnto the place of rest , Who long hath wandred vp & down , with torments sore opprest , Dame Patience , hath stoode his friend , and sent him vnto mee , To lend him helpe vnto this place , where he desires to bee : Lady quoth he , I cannot go my selfe abrode to day , But I wyll send , my seruaunt here , to shewe him the right way : Whose company , if he wyll kéepe , beléeue mée he shall finde In little time , a place that may right well content his minde . Which if he doe not , yet let him , with him returne to mée , And then my selfe , wyll go with him : it shall suffice quoth shée ▪ Go sirra , quoth shée , followe well , his man where so he goes , And take good heede , that in no wise , his company you loose : For if you lose ▪ his company , you lose your labour quite . But followe him , your gaine parhaps , your trauyle shal requite . His name quoth shée , True Reason is , my Father Wisdoms man , Whome if you followe to the place of rest , conduct you can . So sirra , quoth shee , go your wayes , be rulde by him I say : And though ●e leade you now & then , through some vnplesant way Yet followe him , where so he goes , doe as I bidde you doe : And he in time , the perfect place of rest , can bring thée too . And so , farewell Lady , quoth I , I humble thankes do geue , To you and eke this good olde man : and sure whyle I do lyue , You two I vowe , and eke besides the noble curteous Dame , That sent mée hyther vnto you , Dame Patience by name : In harte I euer honour wyll : And honest Reason loe . For taking paines vnto the place of rest , with mée to goe , To recompence his paines , I vowe , to stande his faithfull friende , To followe him , and to be rulde by him vnto mine ende . And if I seeke to slyppe from him , I wylling aye wyll bée , That as he lyst , he shall doo due correction vpon mée . So Lady , I my leaue doo take : And therewithall , me thought , The good olde m●n , fast by the hande vnto the doore me brought ▪ And at the doore ( me thought ) dyd part , this good olde man and I , And Reason ▪ he came stepping forth , to beare me company : Or else to leade me to the place , whereas we then should goe : But as in euery mery moode , doth happe some sodaine woe . So in this Dreame , as wee ( me thought ) were going on our waye ▪ I knowe not well , at what ( alas ) we soddainly gan staye . And staying so , a Phesant Cocke , harde by me I gan sée , Which flying by me , crew so lowde , as that he waked mée . And thus my Dreame was at an ende : which when that I awooke , I tooke my penne , and as you see , I put it in my booke . Which for the straungenesse of the same , surely perswadeth mée : It doth some straunge effect pretende , what euer so it bée . THe huge highe Mountaine fyrst of all ? and then the broken Trée ? And then the Lady soddainly , that dyd appeare to mée ? The Napkin lying on the ground ? and then the Dames that 〈◊〉 , In order so , with Dishes all , vnto this noble Dame ? And wherfore onely fowre of them , went backe againe away : And other fowre attendaunt styll , vpon this Dame dyd staye ? And what should meane the geuing of the Cytter●e , vnto mée to playe vpon ? and that my selfe should sound such Harmonie , Which neuer playde on lyke before ? and then the Song that shee , Unto the tune that I so playde , dyd sweetly syng to mée . Then what should meane the order that , the Maidens dyd obserue ▪ As they vpon this stately Dame , attendaunt styll dyd serue ? The Bason , Towel , & the Flowres , wherwith shee strawd the place ? And one alone among the rest , so humbly saying Grace ? What meant her stately keeping , of her royall Princely sca●e ? And what shee meant by bydding mée , to wash before I eate ? And when as one amazed so : shee dyd beholde mee stande : What shee should meane to ryse her selfe , & take mee by the hand ? Then what should meane the bytter roote , that first I fed vpon : And tasting of the herbe of Hope , the bytter taste was gon ? Then what should meane my great desyre , to see that herb to grow : And how the Lady ledde mee straight : wheras shee mée dyd show The herbe , the roote , the ground & all ? and why I then dyd craue , Of that same roote or ere I went , a lytle taste to haue ? Then what should meane the cutting vp the Turfe , to let mée sée the roote ? and then then the breaking of a peece thereof for mée ? Then what shold meane the laying down , the Turfe euen as she found , So closely as could scarse be seene , that she had styrde the ground ? And then what ment , the greate wilde Maze , the Image of a man , Whereas it grewe ? and after that our backe returning than ? What ment the glasse of water , that at our returne wée founde : The towel and the flowers best●es , downe lying on the ground ? Then what Dame Patience should meane , for to demande of mee . Howe I did lyke her seruice there , and whether I coulde be Content to lyue with her or not , or backe returne to chuse : And that shee put it to my choice , to take or to refuse ? And backe returnde to my olde lyfe , then what she ment to say : If well I chose , I mought reioyce , for to haue seene that day ? If contrary why then I mought , but thancke my selfe therefore ? And bad me pause vpon her words , and then would say no more ? Then what should meane my kneeling so , and praying then of mine To God for grace , to take and chuse , to please his wyll diuine ? Then what the Lady ment in hast , as I was kneeling so , To aske to that she did demaunde , an aunswere yea or no ? Then what my doubtfull answere meant , and pardon I dyd craue , That for an aunswere flat , I might some longer respit haue ? And why she would no respit giue ? then what the path way meant ? And what she ment , in that she mée , vnto the Temple sent ? The lesson that she gaue mee then ? and then Dame Pitty too ? And what besides at the Church doore , she further bad mee doo ? Then at our parting , the sweet song , which ranne of Tyme so much ? what y● shold mean , & what should mean , our choice of musick such ? Her song once done , what then should meane the vanishing away , Wherewith my selfe at first awhyle , amazed so did stay ? But going onwardes , on my way , what ment the riuer then , That ran so néere the path ? and then the Boate ? and then the man ? And then what should be meant in that , he called so to mée , To take a bote , to crosse the streame ? the way that I dyd sée : Lykely to leade vnto some Towne ? what too was meant by that , Whereto I made no aunswer , but , I stayed looking at ? And then againe , what meant the Dame , who vanished awaye , To come vnto mée there againe , and what shée meant to saye . I happy was , I had not tane a Boate , or ere shée came : And how from thence , with mée vnto the Temple néere she came ? Then what should meane the lesson , that shée gaue mée for to saye , At the Church doore ? and then againe , he● vanishing away ? Then what should meane the stately Church ? and as I sayd before , The lesson , that I dyd rehearse , when I came to the doore ? Then what should meane the sight I heard ? then what the Lady meant , Apparrelled in white , to whome Dame Patience had mee sent . Then what my kneeling meant to her ? and then my words I sayde ? And that at my first entring in , I was so much afrayde ? And what should meane the answere then , the Lady gaue to mée : And howe that from Dame Patience , I came shee dyd well see ? Then what should meane her saying , that shee knew right well my grief ? And for Dame Patience sake , I shold be sure to find relief ? Then what should meane the aged man , of whom shée dyd request , To take the paines , to bring mée to the place of quiet rest ? Then what the olde man ●●ant to say , he could not goe that daye , But he would send his seruaunt then , to bring mée on the waye ? Then what the Lady meant to saye , that should as then suffice : And charging mee his company , to keepe in any wyse ? And then what meant the Lady then , to bydde mée farewell soe ? And then what meant this old mans man , that forth with me did go ? And then my thankes vnto the Dame , and to the good olde man ? And to Dame Patience , my friend ? and eke our parting than at the Church doore , with the olde syre ? And then what should be meant By him that for to bring mée to the place of Rest was sent ? And then what should be meant by this , in going of our waye ? I knowe not howe , but soddainly , we both at once gan staye . And last of that accursed Cocke : what should the meaning bee , That in his flying crew so lowde : as that he waked mee . Which Cocke , I am perswaded sure , if that he had not béene : Some wondrous sight in trauailing , I doubtl●sse should haue séen . And that which grieues mée most of all , the place of quiet rest : That man would sure haue brought mée too , wher now with grief opprest , I must perforce liue as I do : and only haue this ease , To praye vnto Dame Patience , my sorrrowes to appease . Who promisde mée at parting last : that though I her not sée , Long tyme againe , in open sight , yet she would be with mée . And guide mee so from place to place , where euer so I goe : That I by her shall finde great ease , of many a deadly woe . In hope whereof , thus as you see , my wearie lyfe I spende , tyll I the place of rest attaine and so I make an ende . This Dreame is straunge , and sure I thinke it doth Pronosticate , Some straunge effect , what so it is : but since I know not what It doeth pretende : I styll wyll wyll praye , to God me to defende , In daungers all both daye and night , vnto my lyues ende . And when this loath some lyfe I ende , with torments so opprest ▪ In heauen I maie at latter daie , enioye a place of rest . FINIS .

¶ A prety toye written vpon this Theame : A man a sleepe , is not at rest . ALthough the harte a sléepe , the bones be all at rest , Yet man asléepe , his minde his ofte with many thoughts opprest . He dreames of this and that , sometime with trifling toyes , His only mynde is troubled sore : sometime of pleasaunt ioyes His minde doth run in sléepe : sometime he dreames of Kinges , Of Princes Courts , & princely feates , & of such galant thinges . And by and by , is out , in midst of all his dreame , And from the court , to country Clowns , & of a messe of creame : Of Cattle in the feelde , of woods and pasture groundes , Of Hawking , fyshing , Fowling too , & hunting hare with hounds . And sodeinly vnwares , he leaues his countrey sport , And from the countrey by and by , to cittie doth resort . And there a thousand thinges at once , runs in his minde , The gallant shops of sundry sortes , and wares of sundry kinde . The precious pearles & stones , on Goldsmiths shops that shine : And then the Horsehead , but hard by , and then a cuppe of wyne . Besides all gallant showes , yet one aboue the rest , The Marchants wyues , with other dames , in fine attire adrest , That at their dores , sometime on Sundayes vse to sit , This when some doe behold by day , by night they dreame of it . And then they fall in loue , although their sute be small , For in the morning once awakte , they haue forgoten all . Some dreame of cruell warres , of men slayne here and there , And all the fieldes with bodyes dead , nie couered euery where . And by and by the warres , not scarcely halfe begon , But who doth get the victory , and then the warres are done . And sodeinly agayne , he cannot tell which way , He is at sea , and there he sées great Fyshes gin to play . And strayght a tempest comes , that makes the waues to rore , And then he seeth how the Ships , doe sayle in daunger sore . Anon he sées his ship , with billowes beaten so , That comes at last a sodeine waue , that doth her ouerthrow . And there both shée , and all her Marriners are dround : Yet he himselfe , he knowes not how , is safely set on ground . He onely is at shore , when all the rest are lost , And there he sées how other ships , with tempests like are tost . And there he stands not long , but straight a suddayne chaunge , He carryed is , he knowes not how , into a countrey straunge . And there he speakes a spéech , he neuer spake before , And once awake , agayne perhaps , he neuer shall speake more . A thousand things too more , a man doth thinke to sée In sléepe sometimes , that neuer were , nor yet are like to bée . For I my selfe , haue dreamde in sléepe , of sightes so straunge , And in the midst of all my dreame , of sodayne sundry chaunge . That in the morne awake , I could but merueile much , What cause by day , by night should dryue , me into dreaming such . But sitting so a whyle , sometyme I call to mynde , A prouerbe olde , which some count true , but I méere false doe fynde . That is . That man a sleepe doth lye at quyet rest , For many sléepe , that haue their minds , with many gréefs opprest Some dreame of Parentes death , or death of some deare frend , Some dreame of sorrowes to insue , and pleasures at an end . And dreaming so I thinke , that man is not at rest , Although he sléepe , his harte is yet , sore troubled in the brest . The Boye that goes to Schoole , doth dreame of Rods by night , His bréech too ready for the rodde , and in a sodaine fright He starteth in his sleepe , and waketh therewithall , And then say I , although he sléepe , his rest can be but small . Some thinke in sléepe they are , in field with foe at fight , And with their fysts , they buffet them , that lye with them by night And are they then at rest ? although they sléepe say you , In déede they haue a kynde of rest , but rest I wot not how . And many causes moe , of great vnquyet rest , I could declare that are in sléepe , but these that are exprest May well suffice I hope , to prooue my iudgement good in this , That mynde of man is troubled much , when moste a sleepe he is .

¶ Another Toye written in the prayse of a Gilliflower , at the request of Gentlewomen , and one aboue the rest , who loued that Flower . IF I should choose a prety Flower , For séemely show , and swéetest sente : In my minde sure , the Gilliflower , I should commend , where so I wente . And if néede be , good reason too , I can alledge why so I doe . The Crimson coulour fyrst of all , Doth make it seemely to the eye : The pleasaunt sauour therwithall , Comfortes the brayne too , by and by , For collour then , and swéetest smell , The Gilliflower must beare the bell . This is in pots preserued we sée , And trimly tended euery day : And so it doth deserue to bée , For sure if I mought playnly say . If it would prosper in my bedde , I would haue one at my beds head . What laugh you at ? you thinke I ●est , I meane playne troth I promise yée : The Gilliflower doth like me best , Of all the flowers that ere I sée . And who that doth mislike the same , In my mynde shall be much too blame .

❧ A prety toye written in the prayse of a straunge Spring , in Suffolke . I Neuer trauayld countreys farre , wherby strange things to sée as woods , and waters , beasts , & byrds , wherin such vertues bee As are not common to be had , but séeldome to be found , And hearbes & stones of nature such , as none are on the ground . But I haue red of many one , and surely in my mind , As well at home as farre abroad , I many straunge things find . but many men whose running heads , delights abroad to range , whose fancies fond are dayly fed , with toyes & choyce of change . what euer their owne soyle doth yéeld , they doe no whit es●eeme But far fet , & dere bought , that they most worthy praise doe déeme . But t is no matter , let that passe , ech one where he thinkes best , choose what , & when , and where he likes , & leue his frends the rest And let me speake in prayse of that , which worthy in my mind , And therewith rare like to be ●éene , in England here I fynde . No beast , nor byrd , no stick no● stone , no hearb nor flower it is , No foule , nor fish , no metal strange , nought but a Spring ywis . But such a Spring so cleare , so fayre , so swéete and delicate , That happy he may thinke himselfe , that may come sip thereat . To speake in prayse thereof at large , it were to much for mee , As it deserues , but if I were a Poete : as some bée , Sure I would spend a little time , to let the world to know , That out of our small Iland yet , so fyne a Spring doth flow . In Ouids Metamorphosis , I reade there of a Spring , Whereby Narcissus caught his bane , only with looking Long whyle vpon the same : for loe , the water shone so cleare , That thorow the same , the shadow of his face did so appeare . That he forgetting quite himselfe , fell so enamored , Of his owne face , that there he lay , as one amazde , halfe dead . So long till at the last , for want of very ●oode , He fell starke madde , and lost his life in place whereas he stoode And after his ghost yéelded vp , at least as Poets fayne , His Corps was turned to a flower , which there did stil remain : Which flower if I doe not mistake , is tearmde the Lilly whyte If this be false , blame Ouid then , that such a tale would wryte . But if it had bene true , when he so sore was gréeued , Had he but come vnto this Spring , he had bene soone reléeued . For in this Spring he should haue séene , no shadows of a face , But such a face as should in déede , his owne so much disgrace , That he should haue forgotte his owne , if this he once did see , now he that doth desire to know , wher this same spring shold be In Suffolke soyle , who so best list , let him I say go séeke , And he may hap to sée a Spring , he neuer saw the léeke .

A Gentleman on a tyme , hauing three sons : and being very desyrous to haue them broughte vp at an Vniuersitie : being very well acquaynted with a yong Gentleman , who he knew had spent some yeares at Oxforde , desyred him to choose a Tutor there , for those his three Children , which as hee thought were fyttest to bring them vp , as well in learning , as good behauyour : which hee was contented to doe , and hauing chosen a Tutor for them , not long after hauing a great desyre to see them doe well , wrote their Tutor a letter , and with the Letter , a prety Tale in verse , to mooue him to haue a great care of them : the Letter I let alone , but the tale I haue thought good to shew forth among these prety Toyes , as one not the worst , whiche Tale was as followeth .

¶ A little Preface before the Tale . A Prety Tale , of late I heard , a learned wyse man tell , Whereto I gaue attentiue ●are , and markte it very well . Touching the bringing vp of youth , and who were fyttest men , In learning and good quallityes , to bring vp children . Which Tale when I had heard told out , of troth it likte me so , That to the lyke I were content , agayne ten myles to go . Well as it was I did full ofte , reuolue the same in mind , And many prety poynctes therein , I many tymes did finde . And as one day vnto my selfe , by chaunce I did rehearse Eche poynct therin , I tooke my penne , and put it into verse . Which Tale so pend , according to my symple skill , I send to you : for diuers causes Syr , fyrst for that it doth tend Vnto a little matter that , there is twixt you and mee : It hath ( I trow ) somwhat respect , vnto the Children three , The three yong Gentlemen which to you , as my friend , I gaue in charge to rule and teach : and so I make an end .

❧ The Tale followeth in this manner . A Gentleman that had two sonnes , desyrous was to sée Them both in learning traded vp , for which great counsaile hée Of diuers often did requyre , what Tutors he might choose , To put these prety Puples too , that rightly might them vse . And vnder whom they mought in tyme , in learning profit most , And vnder whom they lykely were , their labours to haue lost . Well , to be bréefe , so many men , so many mindes there were , Som wold say this , some other that , & som were here , som there . Some sayd they thought that liberty , was yll for Children , Some other sayd that lawfull t was , and néedefull now & then . Some sayd the rod should be the sword , to kéepe children in awe , And other some such cruelty , counted not worth a strawe . Some sayd that children should , surpressed be by feare : Some thought to rule by gentlenesse , a better way it were . Some sayd that children were by nature bent to play , Which from their learning in short space , wil draw them soone away . Fro which by feare to kéepe them still , the rod should be the meane Least little smacke of liberty , would quickly marre them cleane And vse would make great masteries , for so by kéeping in , And harde applying of their bookes , they profite would therein . Some other then that thorowly this matter did discusse , To that opynyon contrary , alleadged reason thus . Children by nature are not bent , to any kynde of play , Their minds are euen half made by them , that gouern them alway And y● to kéepe their minds from play , the rod should be no meane , And that by feare for to subdue , that were not worth a beane . As for examples sake ( quoth one ) at first take me a chyld , Who hath a prety redy wit , although of nature wyld : And let him learne to daunce , to shoote , and play at ball , And any other sporte , but put him to his booke withall : And when he is abroade , if fayre he doe not shoote , Or when he gins to daunce , if false he chaunce to foote . Then pay him , bréech him thorowly , fauour him not at all , And now and then correct him well , though for a fault but smal If that he trip or misse his tyme , vp with him by and by , Let him not ●lip with such a fault , but pay him presently . And you shall sée that oft for feare , his legges will quiuer so , That he shall neuer learne to daunce , nor scarcely well to go . And when in feeld he drawes not cleane , his arrow in his bow , Knocke him vpon the fyngers harde , and you shall sée I trow , That in a whyle his fyngers ends , for feare will quiuer so , That he will neuer learne aright , to let his arrow go . Now if he be harde at his booke , although he learne not well , Eyther forget , or con●ter false : at fyrst doe gently tell Him of his faulte , and if that he doe plye it harde , Giue him an Apple , or a Peare , or some such chyldes rewarde . And trust me you shall see , the schoole shall be his chéefe delight , And from his booke , he séeld will bée , or neuer if he might . Wherefore by reason thus I prooue , that children be not bent , But that their natures much are made , by Tutors gouernment . But this I graunt as requisite , with reason to correct , Lest children oft for lacke thereof ▪ their faultes to much neglect . But as a sworde , to set it vp , in schoole to open sight , I lyke not that , for t is to some , at fyrst to great a fright . Their eyes are so vpon the rodde , they little minde their booke , For childish feare will cause them still , vpon the rodde to looke . And so their eyes quyte from their bokes , not only draws away But eke their minds , as much and more , then any kinde of play Wherefore a rod I would in scholes , should be kept out of sight , To make the Children to their bookes , to haue a more delight . ¶ Another graue gray headded syre , that harde them reason so , Thus sayd , so many shrewd curst toyes , & wanton wags I know And eke so many Schoolemaysters , that lack good gouernment , That many prety Boyes wil mar , that are of minds well bent . That sure I know not what to say , but trust me in my minde , A good Tutor , whereto a chyld is bent , can quickly fynde . And as he fyndes the nature of the chyld , euen so he may , By gentle meanes , euen as he list , soone leade him euery way . So that to kéepe him in good awe , correction now and than , He iustly vse with gentlenesse , as a good Tutor can . Well , at the last this Gentleman , when he had heard at large , Their true opynyons euery one , at last he gaue in charge . His two sonnes , to two sundry men , wherof the one was milde And euer sought by gentle meanes , for to bring vp a childe . The other was of nature fierce , and therefore rather sought , With store of stripes for to bring vp , such children as he tought . The Children both of nature like , in tyme did differ much , The difference of gouernment , of Tutors theirs were such . The one did prooue a proper Youth , and learned for his tyme , And by his learning afterward , to honour high did clyme . This was by him brought vp , that was of nature mylde , And euer sought by gentle meanes , for to bring vp a Chylde . The other proued but a blocke , a Dunsicus , an asse , Because with too much cruelty , he often dulled was . This was brought vp by him , that was so fierce of minde , That thought the rod should be the sword , to rule a child by kinde . The Father sory afterward , to sée his Child so lost , And seing that his other sonne , did euer profite most . Tooke him away from that fierce foole , and put him presently , To him that was the mylder man , praying him earnestly . To sée if that he could in tyme , quicken his dulled wit , Desyring him thereto to vse , such meanes as he thought fyt . Well , at the last with much adoe , he tooke a litte payne , And tooke in hand to sharpen then , his dulled brayne agayne . And many ma●●●ries he did prooue , but rigour none hee ●sde , For that before , he had so much , by thother ben abusde . But euer sought , by gentle meanes , to make him void of feare , And so in time , did alter much , his nature as it were . Hee made him boulder to his booke , therfore more willinge to His study still , but yet alas , what euer hee coulde doe Hee coulde not make him like vnto , his brother any way , Although he striude , and tooke great pains , asmuch as in him lay . Yet euery way he mended had , his nature verie much , The gentle meanes , he euer ●●●e , in teaching him were such . Well to be short , when that this Gentilman did see , The difference , twixt his two sons , there shall n● more quoth he , Of children mine , ●e put to Schoole , to such as still do● vse , To rule the children by the rod : I rather ai● will chuse , To put ●y children vnto those , that are of nature mil●e , And know by l●●● and gent●nesse , 〈…〉 a ●●il●● . And thus , the tale was at an ende . 〈…〉 , the Gentilman that had two so●nes , desirous was to see Them both in learning traded vp ●e●en so no l●●se 〈◊〉 I , Des●rous for to s● these Youthes , both learn●●ly , And vertuously brought vp , as●●ch ●s if they were The néerest hinsmen that I haue , or br●thren d●ere , I sweare . Wherefore good Syr , as I in you , my faithfull trust repose , Uouchsafe , to take such pains with them , that they no time 〈◊〉 lose . And for correction , now and than , to him that doth not well , I meane not to instruct you ●ir , your selfe can better tell Th●n I what long● thereto : ther●fore , as you shall finde , Use your discretion Sir therein , accordinge to your minde . Thus you haue heard , the milder man , the better Schollar made , And yet , a bridell must be had , for a wilde brainesicke Iade . But for your prety Coltes , I ho●e no ●ridle you shall neede : I hope you easely shall them bende , with a small twined thréed . My meaning is , I hope they will , themselues eche order so : That you shall neede , to take small care , almost which way they go . Yet now and then , though without néede , somwhat looke out I pray Least that they hap , by Company , for to bee led astray . For though , their ●atures well be bent : yet you kno● now & then , Ill company oft tymes , god wot , doth marre an honest m●n : And they you know , are al●●ut young , and Youth de●ights in toyes And toyes , from lear●●●g quit & cleane , wit 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wanton boyes : Yet in ●ood faith . I hope good ●●r , yo●r prety P●ples three , Will both in lear●ing , a●● all things , by you so r●led bee . And eke vnto their b●●kes , 〈…〉 haue so great desire : That earnest more , or dilige●t , you cannot well require . Well , I haue put them all to you , you ●●ly mu●● be hee , Th●t as ●ell to their le●rning , as be●●uiour ●ust se● . I sought not out ▪ three ●ondry men , to put these children too To see , which ●f them ●●lde 〈◊〉 best , and which againe would doo Worst of the three , but all vnto your charge I ●oe commit , To teache and go●erne , by such meanes , as you alone thinck fit . And as I ●●●e , the●●i●e● i● charge , to you , euen so I cra●e Th●● 〈…〉 e●ch way behaue And 〈…〉 so , that when from you they part , I to haue found a Tutor such , 〈◊〉 ●ill be gl●d in hart . And you your 〈…〉 glad to see : Their vertuous 〈…〉 b●o●ght vp by me . Their Father 〈…〉 , is for to 〈◊〉 them all In l●●r●ing d●ily to 〈◊〉 , and further therewith●ll In good behauiour eke , may well in hart reioyce : That I in thi● behalf , haue made so good and happy choy●e As to finde out , so ●it a man , to put his children too . As vnder whom , they all in time , so well are like to ●●● . And I my selfe , the more for that , may ●●ande your ●oun●en fri●nd : And he reward you for your paines , and so I make an ende . FINIS .

Two or three prety toyes giuen to a Gentilman , to set about his Counting house . What man can beare a lofty sa●le , Where fortune fro●nes , and friendes doe fayle ? And who so low , but hee may ryse , By fortunes aide , and friendes aduise ? What wo to hate ? what ioye to loue ? What stranger state , then both to prooue ? What treasure , to a friende in deede ? What greater spight , then faile at neede ? What wisdome more , then for to learne , The trueth from falshood to discerne ? From which false dealimg , god defend , Those that meane well , and so I ende . FINIS .

A Gentilman being requested by a Gentilwoman , to pen hir a Praier in verse , wrot at h●r request as foloweth . PItie oh Lord thy seruaunts h●auy hart , her sinnes forgiue , that thus for mercy cries : Iudge no man ( Lorde ) according to desart , Let fall on her with spéede thy healthfull eyes . In hart who prayes to thée continually , Putting her only tru●● oh God in thée . Lorde , Lorde , to thée for mercy still I call , Oh , set me free that thus am bound and thrall .

Not many daies after he chaunced to walke with the same Gentilwoman in a garden : and was againe then entreated by hir , to make her an other prayer , which presently hee pend , speaking with the termes of a Gardiner , as foloweth . PLant Lorde in me the trée of godly lyfe , Hedge me about with thy stronge fence of faith : If thee it please vse eke thy proyning knife , Least that , oh Lorde ▪ as a good Gardiner saith : If suckers draw the sappe from bowes on hie Perhaps in tyme the top of trée may die . Let Lorde this trée bée set within thy Garden wall Of Paradise , where growes no one ill sprig at all . FINIS .

A prety toye written vpon a Ladies propoundinge a Riddle to hir friende . A Lady once in pleasaunt sorte , A question did demaunde of mee , For want as then of other sporte , Without offence , good Sir ( quod shée ) : Maie I craue thus much at your 〈◊〉 , To haue a Riddle rightly scand ? Whereto I soone gaue this Reply , Madame you know full harde it is , To reade a Riddle perfectly , The wisest men maie Iudge amisse : But shew th effect of your request , And you shall sée me doo my best . The Riddle . Why then a thinge there is quod shée , That bréedeth many deadly smart : Which none can féele , nor héere , nor sée , And yet with gréefe , consumes the hart . For which is founde none other ease , But euen the cause of the disease : Now this is my desire quoth shée , To be resolu'de what this maie be ? The Answere . These doubts ( Madame ) quod I to skan , Requires some time , and that not small , They trouble wolde a wiser man , Then I by roode to deale withall : But yet faire Dame the doubt of this , I hope to finde , and not to misse , I can but gesse vpon a doubt , I will not sweare to finde it 〈◊〉 . But as I Iudge Madam quod I , It séemes Appollos sickenesse sure On whom he cried piteously , That neuer any herbe coulde cure : Nor any Phisicke finde reliefe , To helpe or ease him of his grée●e . Which plainly Madam for to name , Is lucklesse loue Dame Venus game . Which spightfull sport for to 〈◊〉 , Some so doe dull their sences all : That in the ende with to much paine , They doe become sore sicke with all : And so remaine vntill they haue , Some players such as they doe craue . For euery Player cannot please , Ech patient to playe with all : For then to cure his straunge disease , Hee some shulde haue sone at his call : But he must haue whom eche wolde crau● Els hee poore soule small rest shall haue ▪ This Madam for ought I can see The meaning of your doubt must bee , Which if you like not good Madam : Let it euen passe from whence it came . My Lady ●awght : is loue quod shee A spight , and sporte , to both at ones Now thou hast giuen me , credit me : A resolution for the nones . T is loue in deede thou hast founde out , The misterie of all my doubt : And for thy paynes as to a friende , I yeelde thee thancks and there an 〈◊〉 . FINIS .

A Letter sent vnto a Gentilwoman in verse , wherein hee gaue great thanks for both good cheere , and other curteous entertainment hee had receiued at her hands , beinge in the Country at her house . The Gentilwomans name was mistris Lette● . FIrst , to thy seemely selfe , my selfe I doe commend , And for thy friendly cheere & cost , ten thousand thanks I sende Which able to requite , I know I shall not bee : But to my power I will deserue , as much as lies in me : But yet of all thy cates , one dish aboue the rest , I euer since doe beare in minde , which fare doth lyke me best : Which deinty dish ( my deere ) , if I mought plainely name , Lettys it is , a houlsome hearbe , thy selfe dost know the same . An herbe that wee haue here , but yet I plainly finde , That Lettys from our Lettys heere , doth much digresse in kinde : For in that Lettys such vertues soone I found , As fewe or none the lyke I finde , doth grow vpon our grounde : This Lettys sweet art thou , in which I so delight : And God he knowes what griefes I bide , for wanting of thy sight . No cates that I can taste , but seeme all gall to me , When that in mynde I feede vp on the fresh recorde of thee : And so my Lettys sweet , vnto thy selfe farewell , And thinck no cates lyke Lettys fine , can lyke me halfe so well . FINIS .

A Riddle propounded by a Gentilman to a Gentilwoman whom he loued , but was a suter , but secretly . THe thinge on earth you most desire . And yet of all you lest wolde chuse : That often times you doe require , And yet I know you will refuse : And that here present you may see , All this is one , what may it bée ?

Hir answere as pretie . GOOD Sir , the selfe same thinge that you Aboue all things doe most estéeme , ●nd that in deede is present now , And to your selfe you déerest déeme . That doe you take it out of doubt , That I wolde chuse , yet bee without . FINIS .

¶ A Ditty in despight of a very olde man , who was suter to a very young Gentilwoman , written by a young Gentilman , who was then ( in deede ) suter to the same Lady . PErhaps you thincke , that all for spight I writ this running verse , Wherein I doe such deepe dispraise of doting fooles rehearse : No no ( good faith ) I hate no man , but yet to such a snudge , Of force I must , I cannot chuse , but beare a certeine grudge . For as one way I honour age , so such olde doting doltes , That at the age of thrée score yeares wolde faine séeme but young coltes . Those crusty chaps I can not loue , the Diuell do them shame , God let them neuer haue good looke , of any noble Dame , Much lesse the loue : alas , my harte it rendes for very greefe , To thinke vpon the crabbed crust , that vyle old doting theefe That séekes to robbe thée of all ioyes , and me of my delight , Wo worth that so shall séeke to winne a worthy wight . And séeme to match a miching Carle , with such a pearlesse péece . As neuer yet Appelles ●yne , could paynt the lyke in Greece . Wel , wel , this is the world , ( we sée ) t is money makes the man , Yet shall not Money make him yong agayne , doe what he can . No nor yet honest sure I iudge , nay more for troth I know , The older still , the more in craft● , his braynes he doth bestow . And crafte and Knauery commonly with crooked crabbed age , With Auaryce and Ielosy , doth make a maryage . These are the fruites of froward age , which thou shalte reape God wot , When thou wilt say , oh had I wist , in fayth then would I not . Well say not yet but thou art warnde , by him the likes thee wel , Thou comber not thy comly corps , with such a Coystrel . Whose crusty chaps , whose Aly nose , whose lothsome stinking breath whose tothles gums , whose bristled beard , whose visage al like deth Wold kil an honest wench to view , and so it wil do thée , If so thou hap to match thy selfe , with such a snudge as hée . My counsayle therfore follow wench , cast of the crabbed knaue , And henceforth not one merry word , ne looke yet let him haue . But frown vpon the froward foole , and when thou séest him glad Knit thou thy brows , hang down thy head , & then séeme the most sad As who should say , the crabbed lookes of his old doting age , Of force you know must néedes offend , a youthfull parsonage . Let therfore crums as fyttest is , with crustes then linked bee , For trust to this , that like to like , will euer best agree .

¶ A prety toye in ryme . ¶ Misero infortunato solo , lamenting his euill happe , in despayre of helpe . WHen purse growes pyld , and credit crackes , And friends begin to fayle : To comforte then a heauy harte , Alas what may preuayle ? Audita vox confortans . Yet doe not thou dispayre at all , But comfort thou thy mynde : Though credit , purse , and friends be gone , Somewhat is lefte behynde . Misero . Somewhat alas , oh tell me now , What somwhat that may be ? That so in this my déepe distresse , is lefte to comforte me . Vox . Why doste thou craue to know the thing , Whereof thou canst not doubt ? Necessity ere long I●●is , Will make thée fynde it out . Misero . Necessitie alas I sée , To ready is at hand : Yet can I not , doe what I can , Thy meaning vnderstand . Vox . Why ? doste thou not thy selfe 〈◊〉 ▪ There is no mallady : But Phisick hath in store for it , Some kinde of remedy . Misero . No credit me , I feare there is No meane to cure my gréefe : If there be any , let me craue ▪ How I may fynde reléefe . Vox . Wilt thou doe as I bid thée d●e ▪ And thou shalt soone fynde eas● ▪ Although thou be not at the fyrst ▪ quite rid of thy disease . Misero . If that thy counsayle well I like , I will agrée thereto : To ease my harte of this despayre , I care not what to do . Vox . Haue pacience then , rage not to much , Let reason rule thy mynde : And be thou sure in little tyme , Some comforte for to fynde . Misero . But pacience doth come 〈◊〉 , And what is forst ( God wot : ) Doth more and more torment the mynde , Then pacience easeth not . Vox . Yet pacience procureth hope , And hope driues out dispayre : And where Dispayre is driuen away , There comforte doth repayre . Misero . Oh , but hope oftentimes is vayne , And doth deceiue the minde ▪ Therefore in hope I thinke 〈◊〉 , But comforte small to fynde . Vox . Let hope then grow by due defart , Then followes good successe : For reason showes , who séekes for ease , Shall some way fynde redresse . Misero . Oh but alas , those dayes be past , For to reward desart : And that the more , doth cause dispayre , For to torment my hart . Vox . What though such dayes are past in déede , Yet dayes will come agayne : Wherein desartes shall reape desyre , And pleasure win for payne . Misero . But whyle the grasse doth grow ofte tymes , The séelly steede he 〈◊〉 : And he 〈◊〉 wot shall reape small gayne , In only hope , that ser●●● . Vox . Yet serue in hope , and hope in God , And séeke well to deserue : And let the Horse doe what he lift , Be sure thou shalt not ster●e . Misero . Now like I well this lesson thyne , God well in harte to serue : For he in déede , who hope in him , Will neuer let them ster●e .

¶ A Gentleman being in his friends house , in the country , was by him earnestly intreated after Dinner , before his departure , to make him some verses . But woulde giue him no Theame to write vpon ▪ he not knowing what to wryte that best mought like his fancy , yet willing to graunt his request , wrote as followeth . NEeds must I write , & know not what : why then euen as it is Accept the same and blame me not , if ought you find amis . On bushy bankes what 〈…〉 What looke you for but rayne , when ●tormy 〈◊〉 gi● blow ? What looke you for of mée ? some 〈◊〉 ●ind of verse , You are deceaude : I cannot I , 〈…〉 But what ? me thinkes you say , I make too much adoo , Considering how little yet , I haue 〈◊〉 ●●●atherto . And synce I graunted haue , so little ●yme to wryte , Some pythy shorter 〈…〉 In déede Syr true it is , my fault I 〈…〉 And synce I haue no 〈…〉 Remayne in doubt what I would 〈…〉 And so with thankes for my good cheare , I rudely end my ryme . But if so be you haue some prety kinde of style , Whereon you doe desyre some verse , if you will stay a whyle , A day or two , or so , or till I come agayne , Then you shall sée that I in tyme , will tem●er ●o my ●rayne . And whet my wittes anew , that I will promise you ▪ Some prety péece of verse thereon , more then I can doe ●ow . And thus I leaue you here , vntill I come agayne , This rude and ragged ryme to r●●de , and so in rest remayne . Finis .

¶ Verses made vppon this Theame : Little medling , breedes mickle rest . MY youthfull yeares are spent , old age comes stealing on , And bids me now fond Fancies fits , no more to think vpon Of worthy Wisdome I ; some lessons now haue learnde , Whereby the difference twixt wit and will , I haue discernde . Among all which : this one , where euer so I be , To keepe still secrete to my selfe , what so I here or see . Which since of lessons all , I d●e not count the worst , I doe intende his graue aduyse , in this to follow furst . Fyrst in thy selfe quoth he , all faultes thou must amend , Before in other men thou seeke , one fault to reprehend . Of Cato eke I learnd , it is no little shame , To fynde that fault in other men , wherein I am to blame , To hold my peace therefore , I count it alwayes best , And kéepe in minde the old sayd saw , therof comes mickle rest . ¶ I sée a flattering knaue , is set by now and then , Of greatest heads as much and more , then twenty honest men . But let me rue the same , ●ince I cannot amend it , I mought a wit●esse f●●le be thought ▪ to séeke to reprehend it . ¶ Some Lawyer ●ée● at fyrst , which way the case will go , Although he list not at the fyrst , to tell his Clyent so : But what meanes he by that ? alas doe you not sée , Your pence may make you picke it out , and so they shal for mée . What boote were it for me , their meaning to betray , And so no pro●●●e to my selfe , to take their gaynes away ? ¶ The Marchaunt man he sées too syr , by your hye lusty lookes , That shortly he shall fynde your hande , déepe in his reckoning bookes . Bids he you then beware betimes , of had I wist , No no , but lets you lash it out , as long syr as you list ? Or as you can at ●east , and if you aske me why : He will no better counsayle giue , and what he meanes therby ? Y●●r lo●●● of L●nds ere long , shall learne you how to know , As well as I can teach you Syr , and better too , I tro● ▪ And so shall I offend the Marchauntes nere a whit , By showing of their silken snares , that in their shops doe sit , ¶ Your Tenaunt too he sées , that by your trym gay Coates , Some Lease is shortly to be let , then gets he vp his Groates , And purseth vp his pence , and come with coyne in hande , To craue of your good Maystership , to hyre a péece of Lande . And wot you wherefore ▪ Syr , your Farmer fynds this feate ? To come with Coyne ready in hand , your friendship to intreate When that your goods are gone , and you the losse doe sée , Of braynsick bargaynes made in haste , to mayntayne brauery : The smart thereof at last , shall shew you then their shiftes , Then shall you easely discerne , their double dealing driftes , Which I dare not descry , I am so chargde you see , To make no wordes of any thing , what euer so it bée . ¶ Your seruaunt last he sées , your feathers gin to fall , And sées your Farmer buy you out , of house and Land and all . No longer then he lykes your seruice Syr , adew , And if you meane to kéepe a man , you must go séeke a new . And aske you me by this , what may his meaning bée ? Sure if you sée it not your selfe , you shall not know for mée . ¶ As for the higher powers , they are too high for mée , What faultes are to be found in them , I list not séeke to sée : Let fynde their faultes themselues , so shall they best be pleasde , And for my silence I am sure , I shall not be diseasde . ¶ But to the rest agayne , that are of meaner sorte , Of their fyne fetches secretly , I somewhat will reporte . For openly God wot , I nothing dare descry , Who hurts not me , nor yet my friends , I will not hurt them I. But they who doe me harme , I doe not meane to spare , To bid my friendes in each respect , of such for to beware . ¶ From Citizens to Clownes , what secret shifte they haue , It is a sport to sée a Clowne , how he can play the Knaue . The Badger fyrst one Knaue , that hauntes the market place , When Corn is cheape , to buy good store , now therby lyes a case . What shuld he mean by that ? oh syr , when corn● growes dere , I néed not tel you what he means , your self shal know next yere ¶ The toleing Myller then , when he hath tollde the sacke , Hée findes a trade to fyll it vp , if any meale doo lacke . Nowe what meanes hee by this ? this feate howe dothe hee frame ? The Mylstone greete among the meale , wyl make you find the same . ¶ The Baker then that sees , that meale doth growe so deere , Hée findes a shyfte to gaine somewhat , howe euer goe the yéere . But what is that his shyfte ? the Bakers man can tell , And I saye nought , but lytle loaues , wyll shewe it pretely well . ¶ Some other kinde of clownes , or craftie knaues by kinde , That buye whole groues of woods at once , what shal I speake my minde , What they doo meane thereby , D● no syr by the roode , The Coliar & the poore man knowes , when they doo bye their wood . ¶ The Colyar yet ▪ to gaine wyll playe the crafty clowne : He works a knack yet in his sack● , when coales do come to Towne But howe he worke● that shyfte , I praye you aske not mée , But when you see him shoote his coles , then mark what dust you sée . ¶ Another sort of Clownes there are , that lyue by buing Corne : That secreetely vse knauish shiftes , that are not to bee borne . And these are Ma●lt men calde : but what their shyftes should bée , I néede not tell : by speered mault , the Bruer soone wyll see . ¶ The Bruer then ●e findes a shifte , to make a gaine , But what is that ? smal drinke alas , doth shew it too too plaine . ¶ Another sort of Clownes there be , that Drouers are by name : That heards of Cattell buie at once ? what meane they by the same ? Oh syr , although I knowe , I must not saye my minde , But when the poore man buyes a Cow , then he the cause shal finde , ¶ Another sort there are , which some doo Grasiers call , And for their secréete kinde of gaine , they are not least of all . But howe they make their gaine , I lyst not to descrie : The Butcher when he buies his Béefes , hée better knowes then I. ¶ The Butcher too againe , hée is no foole I trowe . Hée findes deuise to make a gaine , howe euer Cattell goe : But shall I tell you howe , Oh syr I must not I , But marke your weight of bones & pricks , in meate when you doo buye . ¶ The Chaundler then , that of the Butcher tallowe buyes , If hée buye déere , then wyll hée worke a feate in secreete wise To make a secreete gaine : but what feate maye that bée ? I dare saye nought , but some the same by watry Lyghts wyll sée . ¶ Some welthy fellowes are , that trauell here and there , And buye vp almost all the wooll , they can get euery where : And doo you seeke to knowe what they maye meane by that ? The Draper when you buye your cloth can quickly tell you what . Tush , many such things moe , I see ofte tymes , God wot , Which I would helpe too if I coulde ▪ but ( alas ) I can not . Therefore since I can not , I thinke it alwayes best , To take good h●ede & holde my peace , for silence bréedes much rest . If silence then breede rest , why haue I prattled so ? Yet haue I nothing sayde I hope , whereof iust grutch may growe , But if against my wyll I any doe offende : I pardon craue , I spake in sporte , and so I make an ende . The iust wyll lyue vpright , and make an honest gayne , And if I thinke to mend a Knaue , my labour is in vaine : But honest men , or else what euer so they be : Let Countrey , Prince , and Freindes alone , and let them be for me . But he that wissheth yll to Countrey , Prince , and freind , I wyll not keepe his counsayle sure , but rather seeke his ende . But else as I am warnd . so doe I thinke it best , To meddle little any way , and so to lyue at rest . FINIS .

❧ A solempne and Repentant Praier , for former tyme mispent . OH heauenly Lord , who plaine dost see the thoughts of each mans harte , who sendest some continuall plagues , & some release of smart : Pittie O Lorde , the wofull state , wherein I daily stande , Onely for thy mercies sake , nowe helpe mee out of hande . And as it was thy pleasure , fyrst to plague mee thus with griefe . So canst thou Lord if thee it please , with speede send me reliefe . I must of force confesse O Lorde , I can●t not denie . That I deserue these plagues and worse , and that continually , Yet do not thou therfore on me thy iudgement iust extende , But pardon lende , and graunt me grace my life for to amende . And banish ( Lord ) from mee , delights of worldly vanitie , And lende me helpe to pace the pathes of perfect pietie . And truely so to treade the pathes , and in such godly wise , That they may bring me to the place of perfect Paradise . And not to wander vp and downe in waies of weerie wo , Where wicked wyly wanton toyes , do leade me too and fro . The smacke of Sapience , lykde me not , that pleased not my taste , But fonde delight that wicked weede , was all my chiefe repaste . Wherin as hooke within the bayte , so do I plainely finde , Some hydden poison lurking lyes , for to infect my minde . But wherefore doe I finde it nowe ? because I nowe doe see , That wanting smart I wanted grace , for to acknowledge thee . But nowe O Lorde , that I so sore doe feele thy punishment : I doe lament my folly great , and all my sinnes repent . And to thy heauenly throane , O Lord , for mercy I appeale , To send me ( Lord ) some heauenly salue , my grieuous sores to heale . Behold ( O Lord ) my sorrowes such , as no man doth endure , And eke my grieuous sicknesse , such as none but thou canst cure . And as thou art a gratious God to men in myserie , So pittie mee that thus , O Lorde , do pine in penurie . And as thou arte a helpe to all that put their trust in thee . So lulde in this my deepe distresse , some comfort lende to mee . And holde O Lord thy heauy hand , and laye thy scourge asyde , For Lord , the grieuous smart thereof I can no longer byde , Forgeue my sinnes , forget the same , beholde my humble harte : Who onely Lorde doth trust in thee , for to relieue my smarte . And after this my wretched lyfe : Lord graunt me of thy grace ▪ That I in heauen at latter daye , maye haue a ioyfull place . FINIS :