Youthes witte, or, The vvitte of grene youth choose gentlemen, and mez-dames which of them shall best lyke you / compiled and gathered together by Henry Chillester. Chillester, Henry. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A18608 of text S745 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 5137.5). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 279 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 81 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A18608 STC 5137.5 ESTC S745 22338261 ocm 22338261 25404 2240959395

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A18608) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 25404) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1773:23) Youthes witte, or, The vvitte of grene youth choose gentlemen, and mez-dames which of them shall best lyke you / compiled and gathered together by Henry Chillester. Chillester, Henry. 8, 150 [i.e. 152] p. Imprinted by John Wolfe, London : 1581. Partly in verse. Signatures: A-U⁴. Numerous errors in paging. Imperfect: print show-through with slight loss of print. Reproduction of original in the British Library. eng eebo Youthes witte, or, The vvitte of grene youth choose gentlemen, and mez-dames which of them shall best lyke you / compiled and gathered together by Hen Chillester, Henry 1581 162 47775 143 0 0 0 0 0 29.93 C The rate of 29.93 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2006-07 Assigned for keying and markup 2006-08 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2009-05 Sampled and proofread 2009-05 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-09 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

❀ Youthes Witte , OR The Witte of Grene Youth .

Choose Gentlemen , and Mez-dames which of them shall best lyke you .

Compiled and gathered together by HENRY CHILLESTER .

First view then reade , last iudge with regard : geue th' Auctor good wordes he claimes no reward .

❧ VBIQVE FLORESCIT .

LONDON Imprinted by John Wolfe , 1581.

TO THE RIGHTWORSHIPFVLL , Master GEORGE GORINGE Esquiere , one of her Maiesties Gentlemen Pensioners : HENRY CHILLESTER wisheth longe life , with continuall health & prosperity to Gods good will and pleasure .

AS the vnskillfull caruer that wanteth both Arte and iudgement , cunninglie to contriue the worke he taketh in hande , & yet able to iudge of his owne imperfection , findeth meanes , ( for the better aduauncement thereof ) to erecte the same on the toppe of some high piller , or such like place , where the faulte cannot easilie be perceiued by the curious beholders : Euen so ( Right worshipfull ) hauing perfected this my Youthes witte , Or witte of Greene Youth , ( a fitte name for so simple a Subiect ) I was moued , partlie of mine own accord , ( knowing your worthinesse , which well appeareth to the worlde ) and partely at my frendes requeste ( that perswaded me you would courteouslie accept it ) to make my speciall choise of your worshippe , to supporte , and sustain by your vertue & worthines , this simple worke , vnworthy such a Patrone . For though it be sufficiently fraught with a few prettie conceites , yet can I not my selfe in priuie conceite , so much loue or like it ( as the Crow that thinketh her own birde fayrest ) to suppose , it may well swimme through the sensural seas of such as haue either high Forheads , and sharpe wittes , or wante of iudgement , with euil tongues , vnles it be guyded by such a Pilate , as can safelie conducte it .

May it therefore please your worshippe ( of youre courtesie ) to allow my good wil , and hereafter to like of the worke , I shall haue what I especially wish for in this behalfe , and care the lesse for the sharpe censure of such as disfauoure my doinges . For I know that Apollo for all his skill , refused not to heare the harishe Pipe of Pan , though but a rurall God . And Pallas , though in Arte she farre surpassed Arachne , yet vouchsafed she to handle the thridde of her spinninge , and to say that her webbe was wel wrought , and cunninglie contriued . And Xerxes , a mightie Prince , thought no lesse well of the poore man that presented him with a handfull of water , then he did of the greatest giftes that euer anie bestowed vpon him . And truth it is , that such men as are either guyded by the rule of reason , or indued with the courteous giftes of gratitude , doe more regarde the minde of the geuer , then the worthe of the presente . Therefore to conclude , I humblie beseech your worshippe , with the force of youre vertue , to defende my YOVTHES WIT from the malitious reportes of those that mislike , and seeke to disgrace it : And in so doing , your worshippe shall geue me incouragemente , hereafter to attempte a better worke then this is : For the smallest tree , ( if it be well proyned ) will prosper , and verie light laboure not mislyked , is likely to grow so farre onwarde , as to become Industrie it selfe . And thus abruptlie finishing these rude lynes , I committe you to the tuition of the Almightie , Resting alwayes

Youre worshippes most humble at commaundemente , Henry Chillester .
TO THE READER .

MAy it please you amongst other bookes , some good , some bad , to peruse this my YOVTHES WIT , Or WIT OF GREENE YOVTH , in such sorte as they were woonte to suruey the Tables of Phidias , and the Pictures of Prazitiles , that had before seene the excellent workemanshippe of Appelles , betweene whome and the other , though there were as greate difference , as betweene the least twinckling Starre , and the Sunne it selfe , yet did they both like of the one as they had cause , and looke on the other when occasion serued . The praise that Homer purchased by his skill in Poetrie , was not so great , that it could quite disgrace the doinges of his Inferiors : For Meuius and Bauius ( though not so excellent ) yet were they allowed for Poets of manie : some haue desired to heare an Orator of euill vtterance , to the ende they might afterwardes take the more pleasure , when they hard one pleade , that could pronounce his wordes distinctlie , and with good discretion . Cato the wise man of ROME , was wonte oftentimes to vaunte , that he learned no lesse good by conuersing with fooles , and spying their faultes , then he gote wisdome by the wysest , and those of best behauiour : And therefore , I am thus farre to intreate you for this my simple worke , that if it be not in your conceates , worthy to be likened to Appelles Pattornes , ye will vouchsafe , at idle times , to gaze vpon 〈◊〉 , as a table of Phidias or Praxatiles . If it beare not the beautie of a sunne beame , then liken it to the least starre that shineth . If it be not comparable to Homers poesie , that was taken as a sufficiente dowrie with his daughter in mariage : yet permit it to be allowed of some , as were the verces of Bauius and Meuius , If it taste nothinge at all of a good Orator , yet accepte of it , till a better come in place . If it teache no wise conceate , yet esteeme of it as a patterne of my foolish conceate , wherby such as haue iudgemente , may conceaue ( if they will ) a platforme of some wisdome . Beare with me , I pray you , though I seeme in this linking of my lines together , halfe to riddle with you , and accepte my good will , For I haue beene as much troubled in contriuing these my conceites , as they that buylde castles in SPAYNE ( as the French Prouerbe vnderstandeth it ) Or , as a Henne with two Chickens , And so fare ye well .

In ZOILVM , Richardus W. INuide cur acuis ringendo Zoyle dentes ? cur sulcat vultus ruga maligna tuos ? Sed tu Maeonidem ridebas Zoyle vatem , & similis nunquam desinis esse tui : An non est Iuuenum iuuenilia condere Scripta ? sic capitur studijs ipsa Iuuenta suis . Ve Cereri grata est peragen dis messibus aestas , Bacchus in Autumno dulcia vina bibit , Sic matura dabit posthac maturior aetas , intera hoc placida perlege mente , precor .
M. G. In commendation of the worke . SVch sugred sappe , such dewe of sweete delight , As painefull Bees that bide on Hibla hill : From fragrante floures both fresh and faire in sight . With laboure greate , do galne their hiues to fill . Such , and no more , the well disposed minde : Within this booke , by reading soone may finde . Then praise the wight , whose paines shal please thée so , And please thy selfe with that which profite bringes : And with thy profite , profite many moe , And then reporte by proofe what profite springes From our ( Greene Youth ) and safelie say thou this : Such witte doth wante in grauer heads then his .
Th. W. To the Reader . THe prouerbe saith , witte goeth not all by age , the wise regard mennes deedes and not their time Let Zoylus then cease of his woonted rage , and Momus graunt that greenest wittes may clime To touch the toppe of highest thinges with praise : Which Nestor scarce attainde in all his dayes . Young coltes beares price before olde restie iades , young twigges stande faste , when taller trees decay : The budding rose exceedes the flower that fades , youth waxeth ripe , whilest age doth were away . Then iudge aright , and praise him for his paynes : That prooues his theame , in praising youthly braynes .
G. A. In commendation of the Author . LEt hoarie heares , who longe in painfull soyle , with heauie hande haue sowed Experience seede : At haruest reape , in guerdone of their toyle , the name , and fame , of wisdome for their meede . But yet for witte , let youth receaue the praise : As this our Youth doth flowe in these our dayes .
N. Skr. In the praise of his frende . THough wanton will did wrangle late with witte , though Soldior braulde , though Schollar cauil stil Manillas mone , though no man pittie it , nor woman-like , so lose a praise of will . Though counsell then , that came from phisickes lore : Doth yealde as yet no salue to heale his sore . Yet died not witte , he did but make his will , I not deny but then he might be sicke : His addle head may were a kercher still . for then his braine was touched to the quicke . But who so lookes , shall see him here aliue : And well perceaue how youth can him reuiue .
Mistres Marie P. In commendation of her seruaunts worke . TO praise the wight whose déedes deserue no lesse , were but to throwe my wordes into the winde : For eache that sees his worke , must needes confesse , ( vnlesse they swarue contrarie to their kinde , ) That he deserues farre more then I can tell : his workes , his wordes , his deedes deserue so well .
R. W. gent. To his frende A N. LOe for my frende I here doe breake my vow , who earst haue sworne in silence for to rest : But for because my frende constraines me now , both vowes and othes , I doe accounte as iest , And say and sweare , as I haue done of yore : that such Greene wittes haue seldome beene before .
I. Io. Gent. IN verse to write the praises of my frende , I wante the skill of learned Poets olde : Whose pregnante witte in Virgill may be pende , ( and not by me ) his filed phrase be tolde . Reade , gallante youthes , this booke which he hath wrot : not for his owne , but your delight , God wot .
I. H. To his frende A. N. TO say of trothe , that this my frende doth well , and in the ende his doinges should proue badde : My name , his fame , I should both by and sell , and nether winne , but both of vs be sadde . So that to praise him further then I say : I neither can , ne will , ne must , nor may .
YOVTHES WIT OR THE WIT OF GRENE YOVTH . WITH THE CASTELL OF Conceites , Choose Gentlemen & mez-Dames which of these two shall best like you .
Two louers being together in the night , the Man died for ioy , the Maide for griefe : Whereof ensued the death of other two .

IN the citie of Cessenna not long since , was dwelling a riche marchant named Affranio , who had two children , a Sonne and a Daughter . Néere vnto him was dwelling an other marchant named Gerardo , who had likewise a Sonne and a Daughter , and as betwene the fathers there had of long time bene great familiaritie , so did acquaintance growe and increase betwene their children , specially betwene their Daughters : For Camilla the Daughter of Gerardo , ( by meanes of her brothers absence , who was resident at Rome , where he had continued a long time as factor for his father , ) hauing no bodie to kéepe her companie in his absence , resorted diuers times to Cornelia , who ( her father being dead ) was then only Mistres of the house , which her brother Hannibal ( as sole inheritour of all his goodes ) did hold and enioy after his decease : The continuall conuersation of these two gentlewomen as it ingendred betwene them such perfect amitie as could neuer be dissolued , so did it kindle a new fire in the hart of Hannibal , which by the contemplacion of Camillas bewtie , so increased from time to time , and in the end toke such déepe roote , that it could not possiblie be remoued : This straunge passion so tormented the mind of the poore gentleman ( who had neuer before bene acquainted with the like ) that neglecting all his necessarie affaires , he applied his whole care and studie to please and pleasure his beloued Camilla , who vtterly ignorant of his griefe , shewed him no better countenaunce then she did commonly to all other young gentlemen of her acquaintance , which Signor Hannibal perceiuing , and not satisfied therewith would faine haue made his meaning more apparant , crauing such comfort as the necessitie of his cause required , but the feare he had to offend , ( and so to lose the fauour whereof he was assured , by her continuall presence ) did still deteyne him , and would neuer suffer him to prosecute his purpose : Thus hanging betwene hope and dispaire , th one pricking him forward , the other pulling him backe , imagining now one thing , now an other thing , and neuer resoluing fully vpon any thing , he became at last so melancolike with musing & imagining on this matter , that losing his appetite to meate , and desire to sléepe , at the last he grew sicke , and by litle and litle wasted away as snow against the sunne .

Cornelia séeing her brother thus pained applied her selfe ( like a naturall sister ) to prouide him all things that she thought méete for the recouerie of his health , by Phisicke or otherwise , but his disease procéeding of no natural cause , could neither be discerned nor cured by any Phisitian were his skill and experience neuer so great : only their opinion was for the most part , that it procéeded of some passion of the mind , which Cornelia vnderstanding , who could by no meanes imagine vppon what occasion he should be so disquieted ; to vnderstand the truth , she lay continually vpon him , vsing all the perswasions that possibly she might , to make him reueale vnto her the cause of this his grieuous malladie , which at the last he did with much a do , telling her , that it was only for the loue he bare to her frend Camilla , which he had sought by all meanes possible to suppresse , but could not , being continuallie renewed by the dayly contemplacion of her celestiall bewtie .

Cornelia hearing these wordes , vttered by her sicke brother , with grieuous sighes and great aboundaunce of teares , knowing that it was then no time to reproue his folly , but rather to prouide a remedie for th extreame mischiefe whereunto he was so vnhappely fallen , comforted him with swéete wordes , exhorting him to plucke vp his spirites , and séeke some meanes to remedie his griefe : Whereunto he replied that he knew not how to ease him selfe , vnlesse it would please her to discouer his affection to her frend Camilla , and persuade her to take some pitie vpon him .

Cornelia that loued her brother as her owne life , gaue him her promise that when opportunitie should serue , she would satisfie his desire , and make his estate so well knowen to her in whom his only hope of helpe consisted , that she had no doubt but that her tender hart would be moued to take compassion vpon him , when she should perceaue that his intent was honest , and his affection in dede vnfamed .

Hannibal was somewhat comforted with these kind words , & considering the great amitie that was betwene Camilla and his sister Cornelia , thought her wordes might worke such effect with her , that he should easily obtaine his desire .

Cornelia shortly after being with her frend Camilla talking of diuers matters ( as women will do when they he together ) at the last she spyed her time , to open her brothers case vnto her , tellinge her what straunge tormentes he endured for her sake , affirming that without her helpe he was like to languish without all hope of remedy , praying her therefore most instantly to haue pitie vpon him .

Camilla though she liked not well of these words that Cornelia had vsed vnto her , yet séeing her to be greatly grieued for her brothers sickenes , she did the rather hold her excused , and would not greatly reproue her , but gaue her to vnderstand that she tooke small delite in such amorous suters , praying her from thenceforth to trouble her no more with the like , assuring her ( if she did ) that she should but lose her labour , and be farre enough from obtaining that she sought .

Cornelia though she were not satisfied with this aunswer , yet ( being so nipt ) maidenly shamefastnes would not suffer her to procéede any further in the matter , neither durst she shewe her brother what aunswere Camilla had made her , least it should driue him to greater extreamities then he was in before : but whether it were with watching , and the great paines that she tooke with him continually during the time of his sickenes , or by some griefe she conceaued in the vncourteous aunswer of her frend Camilla , or because she saw no meanes to remedy her brothers seacelesse torment , she fell shortly after into a grieuous feuer which constrained her to kéepe her bedde , whereof when Camilla had vnderstanding , she came incontinently to visite her , and being with her all alone , in a chamber next adioyning to the lodging where Hannibal lay , hauing but a wall betwene them , so that whatsoeuer was sayd in th one , might easely be hard in thother , Hannibal hearing his Camillas voice , asked his sister Cornelia , who was with her , who aunswered him that there was no body but Camilla , Hannibal being likewise alone at that present , calling his wits together and taking more courage vnto him then he was accustomed to haue in this case , taking his lute in his hand he began to sing as followeth : YEld me my heart , yeld me my libertie . From out this prison let me passe againe , That for thy sake , bide such extreamitie , As neuer mortall man might well sustaine . If thou hast vowd to tread Dianas trace , If crueltie increase in thee by kinde , If thou disdaine to graunt thy seruaunt grace , Or canst not lodge such , liking in thy minde : Yeld me my hart , that wholy then I may Geue vp the ghost , when as my race is runne , Which now for loue doth languish night and day , And hath no power those painfull paines to shunne . But if thy purpose be to keepe it still , Yet vse it better then thou didst before . To vex the wight , no doubt the deede were ill , That well deserues , thou shouldest esteeme him more . Then , in thy breast , as reason doth require , My grieued hart vouchsafe to lodge at last , That I may say , thou did'st not desire , Nor wish the woes , that I so long did tast , But that thy loue though it were long conceald , Was firmely sixt , and plainly now reueald .

And then began on the other side of the wall , with wordes interrupted with sighes and great abundaunce of teares , to declare to Camilla his amorous and extreame passion , humbly beséechinge her to take pitie vpon him , and not to suffer him to finish his miserable life in the flower of his youth , through her cruelty and want of compassion .

Of such force were these his prayers , that mollefying her tender hart , ( which she felt sodainly enflamed with an vnaccustomed heate ) she thoughte it greate crueltie not to haue compassion vpon him , and no lesse ingratitude to deny him that fauour which his entire affection and perfecte loialtie had wel deserued : wherefore in frendlye wise she spake vnto him after this manner : Senior Hanniball , I am contented to allow of your wordes , and cannot but like well of your courteous offer , not supposing you to be one of those that wyth leude practises doe seeke to deceiue such simple soules as I am , who when they haue satisfied their wicked desire , report it amongest their companions , to the great reproche and vtter spoyle of those that were so fonde to beleue them . But rather then any suche thinge shoulde happen to me , I desire to die the moste gréeuous death that may be deuised , knowing rightwel , that when a woman hath once lost her good name , she hath then no more to loose , the same being the onely riches that she can haue in this world . It is therefore very méete that we be somwhat circumspect in this matter , & if the loue you beare vnto me , be so perfect as you professe , and that your meaninge be none other then I imagine it , you may demaund me of my Father in marriage who I am well assured will not deny you your honest request . By this meanes you may easely obteyne your desire and keepe my good name vnspotted , which is the thing wherein I cheifly delight me .

Hannibal was well satisfied with these words , and greatly commending the vertuous care she had for the preseruation of her good name , promised so sone as he had recouered his health to do as she had directed him . After this Hannibal proued all meanes to procure his health , and being well recouered caused certayn of his frendes to moue his sute to Camillas Father , who knowing his hability , and liking well of the offer , aunswered that he could be well contented to bestowe his daughter vpon him , but would not resolue vpon any thinge till his Sonne ( whose name was Claudius ) were retorned from Rome which he saide would be verie shortly .

Camilla knowing her Fathers answer imagined the matter to be fully concluded for she thought assuredly that her brother would not be agaynst it , wherefore betakinge her selfe wholy to her frend Hannibal , her affection towards him grew so great that it was nothing inferior vnto his .

Whilst Claudius deferred his coming from Rome to Cesena , vpon some occasion of busines that detained him longer then he thought for , these two louers diuers tymes had conference together , thinking by that meanes somwhat to aswage the amorouse flame , that continually burned in theire brestes , but this caused it more and more to increase , and made them thinke euerie hower a yeare till Claudius retorned . But when they sawe he stayed so long after his tyme apoynted , they caused themselues to be secretly maried thinking to celebrat the mariage at Claudius retorne , who cominge home shortly after was aduertised by his Father of the aliaunce that Hannibal soughte to haue with him , which ( vpon what occasion I know not ) he greatly misliked and would in no wise geue his consent therunto : perswading his Father very earnestly for diuers causes that he thought reasonable , to breake of this match and in no wise to suffer it to go forward , wherin the old man folowinge his Sonnes aduise , did in all things as he desired him , and answered Hannibals frends accordingly when they came to know his resolution in the matter .

The two louers vnderstanding how contrary to their expectacion al things were fallen out , ( as it is our humane nature to desire that which is most denyed vs ) more desirous now then at any tyme before to be together , and frely to enioy each other , Camilla said to her beloued Hannibal : what , are not we handfast ? can we be put a sonder with a safe conscience ? no verely , and therefore to make the matter more assured ( as I may very well without offence to Godward ) I will this night admit you to my bed : wherefore if about midnight you will repaire to my Fathers house , my maide that is alredie priuy to all that hath passed betwene vs , shall geue her attendaunce at the back gate to let you in , when you come , whereunto Hannibal verie glad of so good an offer , willingly consented , and when the hower was come , went with all speede to the place appoynted , and was priuely conducted by the maid to Camillas chamber who receiued him very courteously , and he imbrasing and kissing her with great affection , rauished with exceding ioy , through this his vnexpected pleasure , his sences failing him , he pittifully dyed in the armes of his deare Camilla , who seing this straunge aduenture , twixte feare and grefe , was so grieuouslie tormented that being vnhable longe to endure it , at the last she fell doune deade vpon the corpes of her beloued Hannibal .

The pore maide that was present , behoulding this pitifull tragedie , and séeing no hope of recouerie in them , cried for helpe so loud as she could . Claudius that lay not farre of , being awakened with this sodaine clamour , came running into his sisters chamber with his weapons readie drawne in his hand , to see what was the cause thereof , and beholding there this pitifull spectacle , knowing it was the bodie of Hannibal that then lay by his sisters , not stayinge to heare what the mayde would say to him , presently stabbed her in with his dagger , and so leauing her for dead retourned againe to his owne chamber .

In the morning this straunge accident being noysed throughout the whole towne , and at the last coming to the eares of the Gouernour , he caused the mayd to be examined ( that was not then fully dead . ) and vnderstanding by her how all thinges had passed , caused Claudius to be apprehended , and within two days after ( the maid dying ) condemned him to be beheded , wherupon he was presently executed in the place , appoynted for the punishment of all offenders : The two louers likewise with great lamentation were both buried in one tombe , very sumptiously prepared , in perpetuall remembraunce of their incomparable amitie .

A Prince being enamoured of a bewtifull gentlewoman , perceiuing a fauowred seruant of his to be greatly tormented for the loue of the same gentlewoman , geueth him leaue to enioy her , and quencheth his owne heate by an other meane .

A Certaine Prince ( whose name I nede not rehearse ) soiorning for his pleasure in the towne of Blais , had amongest all his folowers one that he specially fauoured , who walking one day abroad for his pleasure , beheld by chaunce a very bewtifull gentlewoman , that was wyfe to a welthie merchant of the Toune , and findinge in her ( as he thought ) so many good giftes , as he neuer sawe in any in all his lyfe before , he became so greatly enamoured of her , that he could neuer be in quiet , but was continualy troubled in mind , practising by all meanes possible to find a remedie for his newe passion , and so behaued him selfe that the gentlewoman well perceyuing his purpose & being vanquished with the like affection , did by her lookes and iestures geue him playnly to vnderstand , that she liked wel of his frendly offers , and would willingly satisfie his desire , if oportunitie did serue .

Duringe these hopes the Prince his maister made a solemne feast , whereunto were asembled all the Ladies & gentlewomen of any reputation in the Cittie , amongest whome this gentlewoman before spoken of , was one , who for her bewty , neatenes in apparel and comely behauiour , did as far surmount the rest , as the prettie pigion doth the fowle black rauen , or the fairest spring , the filthiest pudle : to be short there was no comparison betwene them , so greatly did they differ in all thinges : which the youthful , Prince perceyuing , and wondringe greately at such excellent bewtie , as she on the other side did at his royaltie , and the rare perfections that she perceyued to be in him , loue by and by atached both theire hartes , and inflamed them with such affection each towards other , that they instantly desired a spedie end of their amorous procedings , and so finely they handled the matter , that before they parted , it was concluded betwene them , that the next night ( her husband being from home ) they would mete at her house , and satisfie each other , with full assurance of theire vnfained amitie .

The loue of this gentlewoman beinge thus remoued from the Seruant to the Maister , the last stode so greatly in her grace that the first was in a maner quite forgotten , her swete lookes , conuerted to rigorous regards , she now set him at nought , whome before she highly estemed , which sodaine alteration , so tormented the mind of this pore gentleman , and draue him into such extreame passions , that being quite altred from that he was wont to be , he semed rather a deade image , then a liuinge creature . In these extremities he withdrue himselfe into his chamber , and taking his lute in hand , songe thereunto as foloweth : Both loue and death are now become my foes : Of libertie hath loue bereft me quite , So death denyes his due to end my woes , And lets me liue ( to worke me more despight ) A wretched life , that lasteth all too long , Since all things tornes contrary to my mind : My mind is grieu'd to bide such open wrong , Such open wrong as no redresse can find : Yet see I well the cause of all my griefe Springs from the place where lay my most delight : A small delight that lendes so bad reliefe , A bad reliefe that so bereaues my right , And to an other voide of like desert Yeldes that which should requite my passed paines A grieuous case , a cause that cuts my hart So much the more because no helpe remaines : But ( thus resolu'd ) that whilst my life shall last I will no more a womans words beleue This hurt once heald , I hope my heate is past , And then no more it shall my senses grieue To thinke on loue or louers wanton toyes , I leaue that life to such as like it best Let them sucke sorrow from their secret ioyes I will hence forth deuise to liue in rest : Fare well therefore thou false dissembling dame Whose luring lookes did lull me so a sleepe That when I felt the force of fierie flame And saw my selfe in daunger drownd so deepe , I could not leaue the harme I lykt so well Which now I loth , and will do while I liue , Thy winks , thy wiles , thy words , and all farewell : To them that list my intrest whole I giue , That they may keepe the thing with cost and care Which I desird and should haue bene my share :

The Prince his maister séeing him so sodainly , and straungely altered , laboured by all meanes possible to vnderstand the cause thereof , which the gentleman would not in any wise confesse , but sought to excuse the matter as he could , and make his case a great deale better then it was . The Prince therefore seeing all his wordes spent to small purpose , in seeking to perswade him to manifest his griefe , & perceiuing that the hower approched , wherein he appoynted to mete with this gentlewoman , whose loue he had so lightly purchased , being loth to prosecute his purpose without the companie and councell of his fauoured seruaunt , whom he had in all thinges found faithfull vnto him , he secretely called him , vnto him , and said . Though I haue dyuers tymes demaunded the cause of thy griefe ( which I imagine to procéede of loue ) and can not be resolued in it , yet for the mutuall amitie that ought to be betwene vs , I will not conceale any secret of mine from thee : Knowe then for certaine , that I haue of late bene intrapped with the loue of a gentlewoman of this towne , so faire and full of all perfections , as I thinke in all Europe there liueth not her like , whose happy company ( if fortune be not too contrary vnto me ) I hope to enioy this night at my pleasure , wherefore hauinge now reuealed this secret vnto thee , as to him in whom I haue most special affiance , I pray thee vouchsafe to accompany me to the place where she remaineth that is my onely solace , and I assure thee , if thou wilt let me vnderstand what it is that thus troubleth thy mynd ( which I hartely beseche thee ) thou shalt fynd me as redie to satisfie thy desire in any thinge , and as carefull to redeme thee from these dolors that now depriue thee of thy natural rest .

The gentleman knowing the perfecte goodwill and vnfained affection that his Lorde and maister bare vnto him , perceyuing also by this his profred courtesie how desirous he was of his well doinge , shewed him from pointe to pointe the cause of all his grefe proceding of loue , and the ingratitude of her whom he honored & estéemed aboue all other creatures , being the selfe same gentlewoman that his Lord had chosen for his chefest frend , which when he perceyued whether he had cause to contemne him or no , I leaue it to the iudgment of those that be louers , whose nature is , to loth them that seke to be pertakers of their loues or to take from them any part of theire fauour whom they so greatly fancie ? Notwithstanding this wyse and worthy prince , preferring the loue of his frend before his own fond affections , toke a cleane contrary course , for considering the miserable case whereunto loue had brought this pore gentleman , he resolued with him self rather to respect his health then his owne priuat pleasure , and resting vpon this determination he said to the gentleman as foloweth .

My frend thoughe I haue nothing in the world so dere and delightfull vnto me , but I could willingly imparte the same with thée , though thou mayst dispose of my goods as of thine owne , & c●mmaund my person to do thée pleasure , yet loue that can alow of no parteners , will not permit vs to be both pertakers of the gentlewoman whome we both desire , thou art greatly pained for her sake and I prefer the pleasure I might enioy with her before all my worldly treasure . These are two great extremeties , for as the one can wel be endured , so may not the other be wel forborne : Thy case craueth comfort , and my contentment , if thou want thy will thou art in daunger to perish , if I bridle my affections it will brede me sorow , notwithstanding so great is the loue I beare vnto thée , that I do rather chose to depriue my self of this fauour , then to se thée languish for lacke of that which is in my power to graunt thee : Comforte thy selfe therfore cast of this carefulnes , and despaire no more but count thy self assured of that thou sekest , she shall be thyne that best deseruest her , thou shalt enioy her wholy to thy self , I geue her frely vnto thée , and geue ouer all the intrest that I had or may haue in her hereafter .

The pore gentleman hearing these kinde words and perceyuing his owne error , betwixt hope to obtayne his desire , and ●eare to offend his good Lord , whome he honoured with al reuerence due to so worthy a person , not knowing how to answere or what to imagine , he stode as still as a stone , staringe in the princes face , sheding great aboundaunce of teares , and as one bereft of all his senses vnable to vtter one only worde a greate while together : At the last coming to him self agayne , with all humilitie he craued pardon for the offence which he had vnwittingly committed against hys maiesty , protesting that he would rather choose to die a thousand deathes if it were possible then willingly séeke to impeach the least part of his pleasure .

The Prince remayning firme in his liberal purpose , after he had studied a while by what meanes he might best beguile the gentlewoman , and bring his frend reliefe , hauing found a fitte deuise for that purpose , he commaunded the gentleman to attend vpon him , and vpon paine of hys displeasure to do whatsoeuer he should appoint him , and so incontinently they passed together towards the gentlewomans lodging , where they were finely receaued at their comming , by a prety maid , that she had made priuey to her meaning , who like a good seruaunt , carefull of her Mistres commaundements , conueyed the Prince very priuely into her chamber , where she attended his comming , whose frendly welcome & amorous enticements , had ben enough to moue the chastest mind in the world , to take delight in her , and forgetting al frends and frendship , to betake him selfe wholy vnto her . But this good Prince , whose minde was fully bent to séeke the safetie of his frend , when he and the gentlewoman were laid together in the bedde , and the candle put out , faining as though he rise to ●ase him selfe , went to the gentleman his seruaunt , whom he had left in an other lodging not farre of , & sending him thether to supply his rome , satisfied him self with the maid , that was a prettie 〈◊〉 gerle ▪ whom with his good perswasions , and liberall promises , he easely obteyned to be at his commaundement in all thinges , wherwith he did well content him selfe for the time .

The gentleman that was now in th armes of his Lady , whom he loued so dearely , when he had wel satisfied his desire , and aswaged his heate , with her swete imbracement , he asked her pleasantly whether she thought that the greatnes of a Prince , was able to shew more perfect affection , then the good hart and loyall seruice of a meane gentleman .

The gentlewoman hearing his voyce which she knew very well , perceyuing therby that it was not the Prince whom she had pleasured , but the gentleman that she thought to displease and depriue of that fauoure , which his entire affetion had wel deserued , vnderstanding very well to what end his wordes did tend , sighing a litle she said .

If my wisdome had bene as greate as my bewtie , I had not depriued my self of libertie , to make me a slaue to one that set so light by me , neither had mine expectacion bene thus deceaued , nor my selfe so beguiled : But seeing it is so fallen out , and that the liberalitie of a Prince hath bene so great , to preferre the loue of his seruaunt , before his owne priuate affections , it is great reason that 〈◊〉 shoulde hold me contented , and shew my selfe as liberall 〈◊〉 you ( whose loyaltie hath well deserued it ) as he hath done that gaue me this good example , wherfore I do here wholy betake my selfe vnto you , accepting you for my only frend so long as li●e , and your good liking shall last , with assured promise , neuer more to a●●er my choyce , or allow of any other in that respect , but alwaies and in all thing , to be most humble at your commaundement .

These and such like wordes she vsed vnto him , and afterwards falling into more pleasaunt talke , they passed the time till morning came , and then the gentleman with a gracious Conge , takinge leaue of his Mistresse , departed with the Prince his maister , being both well satisfied , who diuerse times after , when occasion serued , receaued the like contentemente . But nowe least I ingender in your hartes some extreame enuie , by speaking ouermuch of this their excéeding pleasure , I thinke it best to hold my peace , and so auoyde the inconuenience , which otherwise might insue .

A lamentable discourse of the loue betwene Barisor , and Flora , with the piteous end of them both .

Not without great reason do the Poets faine foolish loue to be naked , for vndoubtedly he is naked of all good vertues . They do likewise make him blind , to shew that for want of good foresight , he suffereth him selfe to fal into all maner of vices : I may then very well conclude with them , and say that his subiectes are so naked , so blind , and voyde of naturall sense , that being in a maner dispoiled of all good vertues , they suffer them selues , to be led into such filthy pudles , from whence they are not able to get out againe ▪ till their hard fortune do make them feele the smart of their wilfull folly , as plainly appeareth by the story ensuing .

The most renowmed king of Hungarie , the last that raigned in those partes , before the Turke had wasted the countrie , and brought it vnder his subiection , did in his life time , hold an open Court and had in his traine , a great number of gentlemen and Ladies , so well accomplished in all perfections , as there was no Prince in Christendome comparable vnto him , where loue had so liuely displayed himselfe , that it was harde to finde in any other Courte whatsoeuer , more affectionate seruauntes to their Ladies , then was one gentleman of his house named Barisor , who though he were but basely borne , and little fauoured with the giftes of fortune , notwithstanding nature farre more gracious vnto him , made him in all vertue and beautie so perfect , that without comparison hee was accounted the most accomplished gentleman in the Courte , and had such aduauntage aboue all other , that aswell in all manner of Gentlemanlike exercises , as also in martiall exploites , hee alwayes shewed himselfe farre to surmount the rest which made him to be so welbeloued and estéemed of euery one , especially of the Ladies of the court , that by meanes of the good countenance they gaue him generally , he tooke great pleasure oftentimes to beare them company , shewing him selfe so courteous and seruiceable vnto them , that therby he drew vnto him the hartes of most of them .

In this honourable troupe , there was a Lady named Flora , of an auncyent house , and very rich in possessions , who séeing this gentleman so much estéemed and praised of euery one saue only of her , could no longer forbeare to shew him the like freendly and fauourable countenaunce . He on the other side beholding the delicate complection and naturall beautie of this worthy Gentlewoman , was in such sorte surprysed , that he did in a maner lose all his senses . Loue incontinently ( during these amorous regards ) vsing his accustomed force , at one instant tyed the heartes of these twaine so straightly together , and brought them to that passe , that it was easie to iudge by their outward countenaunce how they were inwardly tormented , which though it seemed very straunge vnto them at the first , specially to the young Lady , yet when it had once taken roote in her heart , it was so surely setled , as it did accompany her to her graue : Thus to discouer their secrete thoughts hauing yet none other meanes but onely the amorous glaunces of their gasing eyes , they could not sufficiently discouer the force of this new fire , wherewith they were so greately inflamed , which so much tormented the minde of the poore Gentleman , that being on a day al alone in his chamber , and almost out of his wittes through extreame sorrow , he caste him selfe downe vpon his bed thinking to recouer some rest , but Loue , and the continuall remembrance of this new passion , so often renued his griefe , that in the end he was enforced for the ease of his mind , to sing to his Wife these verses following .

Another to the like effect .

Like as the Steere that neuer felt the Yoake , But liued free in Woods and pastures still : Or like the horse that neuer yet was broake , Nor brought with bit t' obay the Riders will . So rangde I long , and wandred ofte astray , Vntaught to bridle my desires alas , Amidst my thoughts blinde Cupid bore such sway , That bastard boy , not he whose sonne Ioue was . Whose brande was smothering heate not much vnle●ke To that cleere flame which broyleth in my brest . Wherin I ioy as in the thing I seeke . And therefore since I therewithall am blest , And Reasons yoake hath made my sences tame : I crie , O happie yoake , O noble flame .

His song ended , sighing bitterly he sayd : O vnhappie and miserable wretch that I am , well worthy am I to lose both life and liberty , to become a slaue and the most vnhappy gentleman on earth , that haue setled mine affection in so high a place , that not so much as mine eyes , much les my thoughts shal euer be able to attaine vnto it , which makes me worthy of a thousand deathes , if it were possible to endure so many : what may I then expect , but euen my vtter ruine both of body and soule , seeing my selfe without all hope of remedie at the very beginning of my loue , considering the difference of our degrees : Her great wealth , and my want : Her plentie , and my pouertie .

In these words , which were mingled with an infinit number of passions , he could finde no reason at all for him to recouer any rest . The poore Lady on the other side , that fryed in the same fire , withdrew her selfe into her chamber , and framing her countenance ( as she could very well ) by fayning her selfe sicke she found the meanes to ●e alone , to the ende she might the better bewaile her case , without being perceiued of any , wherefore prouoked by the heate of her new loue , which tooke from her all Maydenly modestie , she sayd to her selfe .

Alas , is it meete this cruell tirant should so hardly intreate me , to make me wil , that I may not , when I may not as I would ? Ah , ah Barisor , well may I count my selfe vnhappy , that euer I saw thee , seeing that sight , hath ingendred this loue , which at the beginning seemeth so harde and grieuous vnto me , and will ( I feare me ) in the end be a cause of greater euill , and peraduenture the vtter ruine of vs both . My only desire is to enioy thee , that art my only comfort : But alas , I see no way how to bring it to passe , without greatly offending my parents and mine owne honor , and therfore should death be more delightfull vnto me , then stil to indure this extreame torment , that my miserable life maketh me so long to endure .

These poore passionate louers , so long maintained their inward affection by outward lookes and secrete fauoures , that the poore Gentleman vnhable to indure his consuming griefes , presuming vpon the courtesie of his mistres , whom by al euident tokens , he perceiued to burne in the same fire that he did , séeing her one day all alone at a window very sad and pensiue , pricked forward by an amorous desire , he found the meanes to enter into her chamber vnseene of any , saue only of a trustie maide that attended vpon her , and fayning to bring her newes from some frend of hers ( as one that was conuersant among the best ) he did most humbly and gratiously salute her , and then began with a trembling voice to vtter these wordes .

Madame , though I know the greatnes of your beautie and the place ye holde , to be such as should moue any man of my degrée to be wel aduised what he wil say , before he presume to speake vnto you , least by his vnaduised proceeding , he doe abridge some part of that honour , which is rightly due vnto you , wherof I alwayes had , and euer wil haue as great care and regard as any the most affectionate seruant that may possibly present himselfe before the eyes of so worthy a Lady : Notwithstanding , confessing the cruel torment that grieuouslie afflicteth euery parte of me , for feare least I should obtaine no place in her honorable seruice , whom I desire to obay and please in all thinges , which would not haue suffered my life to continue till this time , had it not been conserued by the hope I had to be so imployed to the death : dispayring of al succour , I haue now taken this presumption vpon me , humbly beseeching your accustomed bountie to accept this excuse of your pore slaue that desireth no longer to liue , then his life shal be acceptable vnto you , and bearing with my indiscretion , to impute the fault to your excellent beautie , that hath entangled me , and so restrayned my libertie , that finding my self so wonderfully surprised , I am ( said he , the teares standing in his eyes ) wholy tyed to your answere , whereby I attend the last and finall sentence of my life or death .

The young Lady litle acquainted with such amorous discourses ( as it is the nature of such tender youth to be somewhat shamefast ) at first cast down her eyes to the ground : but anone after ( ouercome with these sweet words . and vnable to resist the feruency of this strange passion ) at this first incounter ( putting all shame vnder foote ) she loked vp againe , beholding him with a sweete , and louely countenance , for whom she dyed a thousand times a day , and then casting forth a deep sigh , aunswered him with a trembling voice , after this maner .

Senior Barisor , I must needes confesse , that at the first encounter , my forces fayled me , & the honor I ought to my reputation being greatly attainted by the like mishap , ( wherof vnawares I my selfe am the cause ) at euery word I would speake , my hart panted , and was gréeuously perplexed , my mind likewise , and al the other parts of my body , were so weakened , that I had in a maner , no vse of them at al , which now enforceth me ( hauing hetherto forgotten my selfe ) to let thée vnderstand , that the very first time , I was surprysed with thy honest behauiour , I felt in my selfe such extreame anguish , that me thought it pulled my hart out of the accustomed place , to ioyne , and vnite it with thine : and since that time , thy vertues , and the knowledge I had of thy feruent affection ( the force and assurance whereof is now discouered ) hath been so liuely imprinted in my mind , that through dispaire , and extreme passion , I thought a thousand times , that my soule would haue departed from my bodie , supposing all my life long , to keepe secrete this amorous flame , which , whilest I had sought too much to suppresse , increasing more and more , would in the end haue quite consumed me . But since vpon so iust occasion , I see my good , present without dissimulation , vnable to denie that which ye know as well as my selfe , I humbly beséech you , seeing I haue so much forgotten my selfe , as to put my honoure into your handes , to be circumspecte in your dealing , and forecast the daungerous mishaps , and inconueniences that may ensue , if our loue come to light , considering the greatnes of my house , and how many noble personages there are , that wil séeke to hinder the fauour that I desire to beare vnto you , which I shal not be able so wel to dissemble , but that at one time or other it will be perceiued .

Loue now , that had déepely wounded these two Louers at the heart , desirous to make them know his full power and puisance , when he had quite berefte their libertie , so planted his ensigne in their entrailes , that from the poore Lady Flora he tooke all habilitie to resist , and gaue to Senior Barisor a rash desire to enterprice that , which after coste him his life , for geuinge bridle to his vnruly affections , with a long and gracious kis , confirmed his vnfayned amitie , and rauished with exceeding ioy , through the continuall pleasure , he conceiued in her many courtesies , finding him selfe alone at libertie , he made request of that , which most contented his libidinous desire , & so long contynued his haunt , that at last , the bruit of suspicion , did not only offend the eares , of all the gentlemen of the court , but also of her Parents , who determined to vse some rigorous correction , & to remoue her far from him , by whose meanes she had gotten this il report , and lost her good name : which when she perceyued , she determined rather to make her selfe vnhappy for euer , then to liue without the company of her faithfull , and wel affected seruant .

And after good deliberation , seeing her selfe greatly vrged to forsake the Court , through the fury and feare she had of her displeased friendes , she agreed with her best beloued ( to the ende they might fréely enioy their Loue , some where els ) to forsake the Courte , and her Countrey , with all conuenient speede : wherefore , the better to bring their desire to passe , they caused them selues to be marryed as secretly as they might , and setting all their affayres in good order , when they were furnished of money , and all thinges that eache of them seuerally according to their habilitie , were able to procure , for feare to be discouered , they stole away in the night , and traueled by vnknowen wayes that were not commonly trad●●● , til they came to the sea side , where they tooke 〈◊〉 , with purpose to passe towards Italie , thinking there to spende the rest of their life happely , and as their heart desir●d : but cruel fortune , inconstant and enuious of the good that before she had graunted them , turning their sweet into sower , and their pleasure into great displeasure , so extreamely handled them , that their miserable mishap may be a good example to all other , to beware of the like , when they find themselues disposed to take so dangerous a wise .

These two fugitiue Louers being imbarked , as aforesayd , before they were fully ten miles , from the hauen there rose so great a tempest in the sea , that the sky beeing couered with many dark cloudes , and the water troubled with the vehemencie of the wind , that it seemed al things were quite confounded and brought into a confused Caos so that the boldest in the barke , and he that had best skill was faine to geue ouer his taske , and committe all to the mercy of the tyme , which was so daungerous , that the ship ouermatched by the vehemency of the windes , was broken all to péeces , against a harde rocke , and all that were in it drouned and lost , saue onely Barisor and Flora : For Barisor ( strengthned by the vehemencye of hys loue ) holding his Flora in his armes , all be blobred with wéeping when he saw the eminent daunger which might no way be auoyded , he cast her vpon his backe , and with an inuincible courage leapt into the Sea , and puttinge himselfe , to the power and conducte of the tempestuous waues , brake the billowes with his body , as a Dolphin with his broade finnes . The Lady acknowledginge the great diligence of her poore louer , sayd vnto him : Alas my deare frend , I greatly feare , that by seeking my safety we shall both be drouned : nay sweete Lady ( sayd Barisor ) thy company is such a comfort vnto me , and my desire to preserue thee so great , that it maketh me more swift then the winde , and stronger then the waues that striue against me . The sorowful Flora bending her selfe to kis her bearer ( the best recompence that then she coulde make him for all his paynes ) it gaue the poore gentleman so great courage , that with the help of the time , and the sea which waxed calme againe , he gate to land , in a desert Iland , inhabited by none but wild beastes . So soone as they were arryued in this place , they loking back on a sodaine , perceiued a huge Lyon hard at their héeles , wherfore thinking that he would haue deuoured them , and so with their life to haue ended all their miseries , they prepared themselues with patience , to abide their vnhappy destinie , & like frends to die together . But the cruel beast ( whether it were that he had before satisfied himselfe some where els , or that the heauens had so appointed it ) contrary to al expectation , departed from them , without offering them any iniury , or vsing any violonce towards them .

When they had escaped this daunger , for feare to fall into the like again , they wandred vp and down thrée whol dayes together , to seek some place of securitie , but in al that time they saw no earthly creature , nor found any harbor , but only the wild desert , and the maine sea , that enuironed it round about , wherefore being extreamely pinched with hunger , and faint with running , they were constrayned to rest their féeble bodies , voyd of al natural strength , hard by the sea side , where being couched together in this miserable plight , each imbracing other , almost dead for want of foode , and not able to doe any thing but wéepe and sighe , Barisor sayd to his beloued Flora : Alas my deere hart , thy swéete and delicate youth , vnable to endure the extreame anguish of this deadly famine , must needes pearish , without any hope of recouery . Ah my deere friend , sayd she , I feele myselfe greatly eased by enioying thy frendly companie . Then pausing a while , and fetching a feeble sighe , she said againe : Alas poore soule , I see thou mayst no longer endure this dolor , all the forces of thy pining harte doe faile thee : Not in loue ( replyed Barisor ) though in this earthly bodies , our soules ( so vnited , that nothing hath power to part them ) shal ascend to the heauens together , and so long as any gaspe of breath remayneth , satisfie them selues with these two kisses , now colde , for wante of natures giftes . Thus lamentably complaining , and straitly embracing , at the last they gaue vp the ghost , & shortly after were found by certain strange marchants that came on shore , to furnish themselues of fresh victual , being dryuen vpon this Iland by tempest , who when they saw the dead bodies of these desolate louers , newly deceased , but past al recouerie , perceiued by al outward apparance , that they died for want of foode , wherfore lamenting their case ( which seemed verie strange vnto them ) they buried them after the best maner they might , and then departing from them , they departed on their purposed voyage , where they made report of this strange accident , and likewise in all other places where they hapned to come , and amongst the rest , in Hungary , so that in the end , it came to the eares of those that were acquainted with the late escape of Barisor and Florinda , who knowing by all euident tokens , that these pitifull newes concerned them , some were glad , because they might now with more assurance , enioy the large reuenues that belonged to Flora , others reprooued their folly , but all in generall lamented their losse , specially such as were louers , to whose minde this strange example was no small terror .

Behold here , Gentlemen , the force of foolish Loue , which inflameth the hearts of the greatest , oftentimes bereaueth them offense , and maketh them careles of al duties , who , the greater , & more noble that they be , the more care they ought to haue , not to remitte any thing , how small so euer it be , that may be any blemish to their reputation : For it is most certaine , that whosoeuer once forsaketh God , and suffreth himself to be led away with euery foolish passion , that prouoketh him , he must nedes fal into such dangerous wayes , as will leade him at last to vtter perdition , which he shal neuer be able to auoyde .

Constance louing Martuccio Gomitto : when she heard that he was dead , desperately put her selfe all alone in a barke , which being transported by the winde to Suse in Barbary . From thence she went to Thun●s , where finding her frend Martuccio aliue , and in great auctoritie she bewrayed her selfe vnto him , who marrying her shortly after returned with her very rich to Lippare : Wherein is plainly set forth the force of loue , and the stedfast affection of those that loue faithfully : with a perfect example of the ficklenes of fortune , who neuer abideth custome , but euery day altreth her estate , aduaunsing one , and ouerwhelming an other , and somtime greatly abasing them whome she mindeth to bring to a better state .

NOt farre from Cicilia , there lieth a litle Iland named Lippare , the inhabitants wherof are chiefly maintained by marchaundise & nauigation : In this Iland a virgin of verie good parentage , named Constance , was borne , and brought vp , who for her beawtie and vertuous behauiour was well beloued , and greatly desired of many in mariage , but specially of one Martuccio Gomitto , a comely and courteous young man , not very welthy , but well skilled in the arte he professed , to whom this virgin did likewise beare so good affection , that she neuer thought her selfe well without his company , wherof when Martuccio was assured , purposing to make her his wife , he demaunded her fathers good will , which he denied him , saying he would bestow his daughter vpon one that should be well able to maintaine her , to the end she might be a comfort to him in his old age .

Martuccio greatly grieued to sée him selfe reiected , and in a maner despised for his pouertie , prepared a litle vessell and furnishing it with all things fit for his purpose hauing also drawne diuers of his frends and kinsfolke to take parte with him , he made a vow neuer to returne agayne to Lippare till he were rich : wherefore departinge from them , he began to practise p●racy on the borders of Barbarie : pilling and spoyling all that he found too weake to resist him , wherein fortune was very fauorable vnto him , if he could haue taken the time whilest it serued . But he and his companions not contented that they were in short time become very rich , in séeking to get more , they were all taken by certaine Saracins , who shutting them vp vnder their hatches caried them to Thunes , where they were committed to prison and long after kept in great miserie , whereupon newes was brought to Lippare for certaine , by many credible persons , that all they that were in the litle barke with Martuccio were drouned . Which Constance hearing ( who was grieued without measure at his sodaine departure ) she greatly lamented amongst the rest , and determining to liue no longer , because her hart would not serue to make away her selfe by any violent meanes , she sought to find some new necessity to hasten her desired ende : For which purpose going one euening forth of her fathers dores towardes the sea side , she found by chaunce a fisherbote in the hauen somwhat distant from the other shippes , which ( by meanes that the owners were newly arriued ) was furnished with mast , saile , and oaers , which Constance perceauing presently entred into it , and ( hauing a litle skill in nauigation , as most of the women of that Iland haue ) she lanched into the déepe , and casting ouerbord the oaers and rudder and all things else wherewith the bote might be guided , hoised her saile and committed all to the mercy of the winde , thinking it would either ouerwhelme the bote ( being vnbalaced , and without a pilote ) or else driue it vpon some rocke , and so breake it all to peeces , and so being vnable to auoide the daunger when she would , must of necessity be drowned : In this mind weping bitterly , she wrapped her clothes about her head and layd her downe vnder the hatches : But it fell out contrarie to her expectacion , for the gentle Northwest wind did blow so full and freshly , that by the next night after she went a bord the barke , it brought her within a hundred myles of Thunes , into a hauen neare to a towne named Suse : The young virgin felt not whether she were on land or in the sea , for whatsoeuer happened , she neuer lifted vp her head , nor neuer thought to lift it vp againe .

By good happe , as the barke stroke vpon the shore , there was a poore sea●aring woman hard by , laying forth her fisher mens nets to drie in the sunne , who marueiling greatly to see it runne on ground with full saile , and thinking that the fishermen were a sléepe within , she went a bord the barke , and finding no body there , but this poore desolate virgin that was then fast a sleepe ( wondring greatly at so straunge a case ) and perceauing by her garmentes that she was a Christian , she called her diuers times so loude as she could , and when she had waked her , she asked her in Latin , howe it was possible for her to come thither , all alone in that litle bote .

The virgin hearing her owne country language , doubting that some contrary blast had brought her back againe to Lippare , started vp sodainlye and looked rounde aboute her : But not knowing the countrie , and yet séeing her selfe on land , she asked the poore woman where she was : who aunswering her , sayd : My daughter thou art now neare to Suse in Barbarie : The poore virgin hearing this storie that the had so well escaped the daunger of the seas , and fearing to fal into the hands of these barbarous people that would abuse her , not knowing what was best to do , she sate her downe on the botes side and wept bitterly .

The good old woman séeing what sorrowe she made , greatly pitied her case & comforting her all that she might , and intreated her to go with her into a litle house she had vpon the shore which at last , after long and earnest perswasion she was contented to do , and being there the old woman so ●●nely flattred her that in the end she told her by what meanes she was ariued there : The good old woman knowing by this meanes that she had fasted long and must therefore néedes be a hungred , set before her such simple fare as she had , and intreated her so much that she got her to eate a litle . Constance being now somewhat refreshed asked the old woman what she was , who aunswered that she was of the Trappany , and that her name was Chereprise , and serued certaine Christian fishermen dwelling in that countrie .

The young virgin ( though she were greatly gréeued ) yet hearing Chereprise named , her mind gaue her straitwayes that she had heard the name before , not knowing any cause that should moue her thereunto , and began now to hope , she knewe not what , and did no more desire to dye as she was wont to do , desiring the old woman without enquiring any further of her estate , to haue compassion on her youth , and geue her councell howe she might keepe her selfe from receauing any iniurie , which the good old woman promised her to do : Wherefore leauing her alone in the house , she went with all spéede to take vp her nets , & then returning backe againe , when she had foulded and layd them vp handsomely together , she led Constance with her to Suse , where being arriued , she sayd vnto her .

My daughter I will bring thée to the house of a good Saracin Ladie , for whom oftentimes I do such busines as she shall please to appoint me , she is an old gentlewoman very wise and charitable , I will recomend thée vnto her so well as I can , and I am sure she will receaue thée willinglie , and vse thée as if thou were her owne childe : And for thy part , when thou art with her , conform thy selfe to serue her well and faithfully , that thou maist winne her fauour , and continue it vntill such time as it shall please the Lord to send thée better fortune .

This sayd , she brought Constance to the Ladies presence , who when she knew what she was , and vnderstoode what had happened vnto her ( for Chereprise had informed her therof at large ) she earnestly beheld her and pitying her case , the teares tickled downe her chéekes , then receauing her into her seruice , she kissed her , and led her by the hand into her house , where she remained after that amongest other women ( without the company of any man ) that were continually imployed aboute diuerse kindes of curious workes , that they wrought with the needle , which Constance learning in short time beganne to worke amongst them , and by her good behauiour and great diligence , won the fauour not only of her Mistres , but also of other that were conuersant with her , who quickely taught her to vnderstand and speake their language .

Whilest Constance was remayning at Suse , her losse being greatly lamented in her fathers house , it hapned that in the time of Mariubdile Kinge of Thunes , there was a young Lord of a great linage & very puisant remaining in Grenado , who challenged the realme of Thunes to be his and for that cause leauying a huge army , he came to make warre vpon the King , thinking to driue him out of the country .

These thinges comming to the eares of Martuccio Gomitto , who could very well speake the Barbary language , when he vnderstoode that the King sought to make himselfe as strong as he could to withstand the malice of his enemy , he sayd to one of his kéepers : If I might be permitted to speake with the King , I could geue him such councell as might easely gaine him the victory : The keper told his Maister what Martuccio had said , who went incontinently to make report thereof to the King , who commaunded Martuccio to be brought before him , and being come , asked him what his councell was : Martuccio with all reuerence aunswered him in this maner .

Worthy Prince since the time that I haue frequented your country , I haue alwayes had good regard to the order of your fight , and perceaue ( vnlesse I be deceaued ) that your greatest strength consisteth in archers , wherefore in any conceite if it might be so brought to passe , that your enemies shoulde want arrowes , and your people haue plentie , it must nedes be that they shall be vanquished and you haue the victory : In deede sayd the King if this coulde be done , we néede not to doubt of the conquest . Surely Syr ( said Martuccio ) if you please it may easely be done and in this maner . First you must cause the stringes of your archers bowes to be made a good deale lesse than those that are commonly vsed , which done you must likewise cause the notches of their arrowes to be made fit for those strings , but this most be done secretly and with such expedicion , that your enemies haue no vnderstanding of it , least by knowing your pollicy , they seeke meanes to preuent it . And this I say because you know it is the custome when the arrowes on either side be all spent , then to store them selues with those that they receaue from their enemy , and to returne them backe againe so long as the fight endureth : Now by this deuice that I haue told you , you may haue great aduauntage of your enemy . For when you haue both discharged all your arrowes one against an other , their arrowes being bigge notched , shall serue your small stringes very well , but your small notched arrowes shall not be able to serue their great stringes , so shall you haue great plenty to assaile them a fresh , and they none at all to resist you , by this meanes ye may deale with them , as you list , and they shall no way be able to escape your handes .

The king that was a very wise Prince , perceauing howe profitable this councell might be vnto him , caused it with all diligence to be put in execution , and finding it to fall out to his commoditie , and the confusion of his enemies , he greatly commended Martuccio , and to shew him selfe thankefull for so great a benefite , rewarded him very bountifully , and aduaunced him to great authoritie .

The report of this ranne through out the whole countrie , so that at last it came to Constance ●ares , that Martuccio Gomitto ( whom she supposed to be dead long since ) was yet aliue : wherefore the loue that she bare vnto him , which by this time was almost quite extinct , began now to kindle a fresh with a new flame , which increasing more and more , did quite remoue from her all desire to dye , and opening her case to the good Lady that she serued , told her that she greatly desired to go to Thunes , to satisfie her eyes with that which her eares had heard , to th end she might be more assured of his safety , whose welfare she wished as her owne . The good Lady greatly commended her , prouided a barke , and with all spéede went with her to Thunes , where at their comming they were honorablie receaued by a kinsman of hers that was dwelling there : where when they were setled , she sent Chereprise ( that wente thither with her ) to harken after Martuccio : who vndestoode that he was aliue , and in greate authoritye , whereof making report to the Lady , she reioyced greatly at this good newes , and desired to be the first that should bring tidinges to Martuccio of the welfare of his frend Constance , and of her being in the country , went one day to the place where he lodged , and desiring to speake with him , was permitted to come vnto him , to whom she sayd . Senior Martuccio there is a seruant of yours that came from Lippare , arriued at my house , whose desire is to haue some conference with you , and because I would not trust any other ( as she requested me ) I am come my selfe to do the message vnto you : Martuccio thanked her and went with her to her lodging , where she left Constance , who séeing that her deare frend Martuccio was rauished with excéeding ioy , and not able to bridle her affection leaped sodainly about his necke , & imbraced him with open armes , but the remembraunce of the passed paines , and the pleasure she conceaued in her present fortune , did so bereaue her sense , that she could not vtter one word , nor reframe from shedding teares in great aboundance .

Martuccio beholding her whom he so dearely loued , the case séemed so straunge , and so greatly amazed him , that he stoode in doubt a great while , whether he saw her in deede , or else dreamed that he saw her , but when he came to himselfe againe , and knew for certaine that it was she he said vnto her . Alas my deare art thou yet aliue , it is long since that I hard report that thou was lost , neither could it be knowen whether thou wentest , or what was become of thée . This said , weping bitterly he imbraced and kissed her a thousand times together . Then did Constance tell him of all her aduentures , and how courteously the good Lady had delt with her from time to time , after which and diuers other talke that they had together , he departed from thence , and going to the King his Maister aduertised him of all that had happened to him and his frend Constance , crauing leaue of him to marry her according to his countrie maner : The King greatly marueling at the matter , sent for Constance , who confirming all that Martuccio had reported , he said vnto her : Now truly faire virgin thou art worthy to haue him to thy husbande , for whom thou hast taken such paines and passed so many perils : wherefore bestowing many large gifts vpon them , he gaue them leaue to do whatsoeuer they thought good : Then Martuccio very liberally rewarding the Lady for the great beneuolence that she had vsed towardes Constance in her aduersity , with the Kings licence , tooke leaue of all his frends in that country , & with Constance and Chereprise tooke shippe , and returned very rich to Lippare , where they were so chearefully receaued of all their frendes ( who neuer thought to haue seene them againe ) that it is not possible to declare the excéeding ioy that this seconde méeting did bring to euery one of them : To conclude Martuccio and Constance ( to their great comfort and contentment ) beinge solemnelye married , euer after duringe the tearme of their life enioyed their loue together , as they ought without any impediment or let , to their deserued pleasure .

The complaint of one in misery . THe day séemes long to them that dwel in dole , and short the time to such as liue in ioy : The sickmans griefe ful litle knowes the hole , so much delight doth differ from annoy , That th one doth cause in man desire to die , thother stil to liue continually . What man would wish to liue that liues in woe ? and in delight who would desire to die ? Since that by death an end of grief doth grow , and death of ioyes depriues vs vtterly , Of worldly ioyes , for only so I meane : of which we see death doth depriue vs cleane . Wherby not all olde prouerbes true I finde , for old said sawes do say that life is swéete : But death is more desierd of noble minde , then life to leade for liuing farre vnmeete . Which loathed life doth make me thus to crie : I liue too long come death and let me die .
A Louer fancied , but not fauoured of Fortune . MY mourning minde doth craue some sweet delite , and fancie fame would lend me some I see : But fortune frownes , and sendes me foule despite , and care doth kepe all comfort quite from me . Such passions strange doe stil perplex my mind : as I despaire of any ease to find . But let me sée , I must not yet despaire , Dame fortunes wheele may happen ●ourne againe : When stormes are past the weather may be faire , and pleasure comes vnlookt for after paine : Things at the worst , the prouerbe saith will mend , why should not then my sorrowes haue an end . But old said Sawes are not yet scripture all , for thinges at worst are past all mendinge quite : To pininge hartes all pleasure semeth small , what mirthe can doo the py●ing harte delight . When fates do frowne and fortune is our foe , ●ought can be thought to rid the mynd of woe .
The nature of the Larke described . THe little Larke that in the ground is hatcht , and there bredde vp till fethers make her flye : No sooner she a flight or two hath catcht , but vp she mountes vnto the lofty skye . Where if she sée Sonne shine and weather fayre , how then for ioy she twittles in the ayre . But if she sée the winde beginne to blow , it poure downe raine and tempestes do arise : Within a bush she kéepes her selfe full lowe , where prety wretch close to the ground she lyes , Vntill such time as all the stormes be past , and then againe she geu●th her vp in hast . Which plainely shewes the nature in the Larke , is still to séeke , to mount to loftie skie : And though perhaps you now and then may marke , a kistrell kite to make a flight so hye , Yet all things waide if eache thinge haue his right , a larke will far be likde aboue a kite .
The hawty mynde how it disposeth it selfe . WHat hill so hye ? but litle emmets clyme , what pretious perle ? but pore by trauel gaine , What thinge so hard : but is atchiud in tyme , what pleasure such ? but may be got with payne , What doubte so great but hope may men assure ? see more , what heauen ? but prayer may procure . The heauie Asse both kepe the valley still , the clownishe coultes do loue the Country best ▪ When hawtie hartes do clime the highest hill , and gallant mindes do séeke in courte to rest , The cowarde dreades and in dispairs doth dye , when boldest bloodes by hope do clime full hye . Then let my harte goe clime the hyest hill , and leaue the valley for the countrie Asse : My mynd in courte shall séeke by trauell still , to finde a pearle which ( farre ) all pearles doth passe . My hope shall rest vpon a princely minde . by helpe of God some heauenly grace to finde .
Loathing his life , he wisheth for death . WHat greater gréefe then tormentes of the hart , which dayly grow by troubles of the minde ? And what such ioy as sodaine ease of smart , which long time sought , full hard hath bene to finde ? What heauen on earth , with lucky loue to dwell ? then luck●les loue againe what greater hell ? But how fares he that féeleth no delight ? what world is that ? where nothing is but woe : What woe to that ? which worketh such despight , as makes a man no kinde of comfort knowe . What life leades he ▪ that dayly cries to die ▪ far worse then death , loe such a life lead I , Then let me thus conclude my tale in briefe , I am the man that only may lament A lothsome life ; that finde no ease of griefe , nor hopes for help vntil my dayes be spent . And sadly so I end my solemne song : Come , come , good death , I dying , liue too long .
Hanging betweene hope and despaire , he calleth for helpe . TWixt chearefull hope , and comfortles despaire , straungely perplext , ful sore amasde I stand : Hope seemes to shew the weather wil be faire , and darke despaire , sayes tempestes are at hand . Venture says hope , despaire doth bid me slack : hope prickes me on , despaire doth pull me back . Haue wel says hope , despaire doth bid me doubt , trust me says hope , despaire says hope is vaine : Shrinke not says hope , despaire cries not to stout . labour says hope , despaire doth shew no gaine . Good hap says hope , despaire cries contrarie : hope bids me liue , despaire would haue me die . Thus twixt those two , at point of death I liue , in hope of good , yet fearing froward chaunce : In you it lyes , a happy hap to geue , to bring me out of this despairing traunce . Oh help me then , that thus on knees doe crie : Assure my hope , or in despaire I die .
The Louer craueth rewarde , for his long and faythfull seruice . OH Loue , to whome I long haue bene a slaue , consider wel , how truely I haue serud ; And blame not him , who is compeld to craue , the due reward that he hath wel deserud . Let trustie troth , be euer yet regarded : that faithful seruants , may be wel rewarded . Thou knowest how long , that I haue liued a thrall , thou knowest againe , my true and faithful minde : And thou canst tel , how landes , limme , life , and all , by faith full fast , I once did firmely finde . To serue a Saint , all this thou loue doest know : and how my faith , I neuer did forgoe . And since thou knowest I neuer reapt reward , nor euer sought til now reward to craue : Sweete loue , let now my humble suite be heard , and pittie take , vpon thy silly slaue . And cause the Saint whom I so long haue serud : to lend me liking as I haue deserud .
Oh amour . WHat thing is loue ? a God as Poets wright , why Poets faine , then how can that be true ? What is it then ? some worldly sweete delight , oh then , their loue , why should so many rue ? It is a griefe ? then why are men so vaine ? to ioy in that , which doth procure their paine . But such a pain , as pleasure bringes withal , and such a griefe , as yealds a heauenly ioy : Doth make the heart , to think the hurt but smal , when fancie rids the minde of selfe annoy , And such is sure , the panges that louers proue : that wretched wights , can ioy so much in loue . But peace , I sée loue is a God in deede , who diuers wayes , doth worke in minde of man : Whose mighty power mans reason doth exceede , by working woe or comfort now and than . But is it so ? is loue a power diuine , then God of Gods spéede well this loue of mine . Nought dare I do therfore oh God of loue I thée beséeche , to worke for thy behooue .
Of a hauty minde . THe conquest rare , doth greatest glory gaine , the strongest fortes by stoutest wightes are won The hardest thinges atchiude with greatest payne , do bréede most ease , when so the worke is done . Well labors he , how so his time be spent , that for his paines doth reape his hartes content . God knowes my hart , and what I do desire , but what I seeke doth few or no man know : The nobler harte , the higher doth aspier : and for my selfe I cannot stoupe to lowe , But if I séeke to clyme a steppe to hye , God saue the childe , for if I fall I dye . In high attemptes , the boldest bloudes of all , do best preuaile , when perill once is past : Then lyue , or dye , or stand , or slyde or fall : clyme sure I will God set my footing fast , And helpe me so to height of my desire , that I may wishe , saue heauen to clyme no hyer .
After many misfortunes he craueth death as the ender of all calamities . I Longe in iest haue wishd and calde for death , when foolishe toyes haue gone agaynst my mynde : But dying now at latest gaspe of breath , I call to God that I may fauoure find . That sinne bréede not my soules eternall paine , that dyinge here I may not dye agayne , For now I sée the woes of wretched will , and now I finde the filthie shame of sinne : And now by grace I knowe the good from ill , I lothe the state that I haue liued in ▪ I see the lyfe of man is but a floure , which springes , growes , fades , and dyeth in an houre . What are we all but euen a clod of claye , first made of earth whence back agayne we must : A life vnsure which lasteth not a daye : A death most sure to which each one may trust . And yet that death yeldes lyfe by heauenly grace , which grace God graunt ech one in wretched case . And for my selfe God me my sinnes forgiue , and God forgeue each one that is amisse : Oure sinnes forgeue , God graunt oure soules may lyue , From wretched worlde with him in heauenly blisse . And thus I end my solemne dyinge songe , Lord saue my soule I dyinge lyue too longe .
He proueth vertue to be better , then worldly riches . THe golde that first within the ground doth growe , doth come to stand on top of pillers hye : The pretious Pearle that likewise lyes full low , the Prince accountes a iewell for his eye , What iemme so rare that euer yet was founde , but that at first did growe out of the grounde . Then when you see your pallace trimly deckt , straight cal to minde from whence that decking came : And to the ground haue presently respect , who by Gods help did first bring forth the same . And thinke the iemme , that makes the brauest show : ful rough at first , within the ground did grow . The man whose minde is ful and wholy bent , to vertues throne to treade the redy way : And meetes mishap , ere halfe his iorney spent , to lothsome vice to leade him out astray . Where is the fault , but in a froward wil : who goes without the guide of wisdomes skill . But what if wit be rulde by sage aduise , and then doe chaunce to meete with naked neede : It bootes alas , but litle to be wise , if wealth do want , to help to doe the déede . Yet wealthy wise , who walkes to vertues schoole : when he comes there , shal see himselfe a foole . How should the minde , then séeke out vertues throne , or els what minde , is best to seeke the same : The seate is straunge , and standeth all alone , and vertue she , is thought a heauenly dame . Which makes me thinke , it is some heauenly place : which heauenly minde , must game by heauenly grace . Which heauenly guide , God graunt my willing minde , with wisdomes skil , to seeke out vertues schoole : That though wealth want , yet wit may wisely finde . how long , too long , that I haue liued a foole . And I may see from vertues heauenly way : what wanton toyes haue led my minde astray .
The louer being ouercome , is compelled of necessitie ●o sing of sorrow . FAine would I write some pretie pleasaunt toy to put away fond fancies out of mind , But secret spite so chokes me with annoy , as wearied wits can litle pleasure find , So that I sée if ought at all I write my song must be of sorrow and despite . And sorrowes song , who would desire to sing that dolefull dumpe doth lend but small delite , And yet the mind which wretched woes do wring can sing no song but smackes of some despite , For if of myrth it doth the more disease and solemne songs do litle paine appease : Then sadde and swéete since that no song I see which may delite of cheare the heauy hart , I can but ●igh let others sing for me , no musicke mirth can ease my secret smart , Therefore I déeme as I at first begon I would be mery , but my myrth is done .
The louer by froward happe inforced to forsake loue , enforceth him selfe by trauell to seeke out the forte of fame . THe world is chaungd , my wits are woond about , fancie is forced to leaue her fond desire , From vaine delites dame Vertue driues me out , and wisedom will what reason doth require . My wanton wits are warnd by sacred I kill to flie the follies of 〈◊〉 will . I now must leaue to write of louers toyes in Cupids Court I must no longer keepe , Nor sporte my selfe in wanton pleasures layes , nor longer lye in fancies lappe a sléepe I now must wake and set my selfe to schoole , to sée how longe that I haue lyude a foole . And I must nowe some tyme in trauell spend , to seeke in tyme the gallant forte of fame . That when ( alas ) my lothed lyfe doth end , my workes may leaue remembraunce of my name . And I may showe though longe I went astraye , I founde at last dame vertues heauenly waye .
The louer forsaken craueth speedie death . A Wretched case it is to sitte and cry , where none are neare to helpe the harmed harte : A greater gréefe where present aide is nye , and yet by spyghte is onely kept a parte . But yet most gréefe , when helpe is hard at call , and yet ( alas ) can do no good at all . In such a case loe cursed wretche I stand , my heauie harte full sore for comforte cryes : Yet none can get , yet some is hard at hande , which in despighte accursed hap denyes . And some I haue , which woulde somwhat content , but doth in deede my sorrowes more augment . The secreat cause alas for shame I hide , since folly first was worker of my woe : By want of witte , which wisdome hath discride : and I do now by secreate sorrowe showe . Therefore consumde , come kill me death I crye , in deede resolud , and well content to dye .
A Comparison betwene thraldome , and libertie . THe little birde that close in kage is pente , which ladies loue to sitte and whistle by : Some say doth singe but layes of deepe lament , and cheareles chirpes for losse of libertie , Esteeming more her mates abrode in fielde , then courtly toyes that chiefest pleasure yelde . But contrarie , oh happy birde thinke I , so luckely to light in fowlers snare : As to be brought to stand in pallas hye , and eke in courte to féede on princely fare . And shortly there in fauor so to stande . as to be fed at fairest ladies hand . Would God I were a birde in prison pent , so I might still beholde my heauenly Quene : If that I sing one note of deepe lament : that day when I my Princes grace haue séene , Wring of my necke , or fling me out of dore , as worthie then to kepe in court no more .
A warning to all estates . The gallant mind , when store of coyne is spent , by rare exploytes , must seeke to purchase praise . Though honor fall to some by due descent , good happe doth hit a thousand sundrie wayes , Yet oftentimes in seeking high renowne , the hautie hart , hard Fortune flingeth downe . The souldiour thinkes by sword to winne his wish , when oft is séene the sword doth cut him short . The sea man seekes in déepest floods to fish , when drowning proues a cold vnpleasant sport . The marchaunt meanes to winne the world by wares , when oft his cost doth yéeld him nought but cares . Now some againe build castels in the ayre , which many times fall tumbling on their neckes , And some will seeme to sit in stately chaire , which are sometime set downe with deadly checkes . In s●●e I find the brauest mind o● all is highest set , but ha●d before a fall .
The miserie of loue . BEwrapt in woe , 〈…〉 with wretched will , orecome with ●ares , deepe drenched in distresse , Pining in paine , aliue , but dying still , crying for helpe , but finding no redresse . A life I lead the Lord of heauen doth know , much worse then death to mourne in sorrow so . But what auailes when fates and fortune froune , when moone and starres are now become my foes , When from delite , despite doth keepe me downe , and cares my corpes do round about inclose . Abide I must as destinies ordaine , thus like a wretch to 〈◊〉 away in paine , Or loathed life that wretched thus I lead , tenne times 〈◊〉 such cursed happe to know , Or cruell 〈◊〉 co●e cut a two the thread that draweth forth my dayes in sorrow so , Oh sorrow 〈◊〉 thy soking sighes dospill me , all dole adew come you good death and kill me . Or else good God who from aboue dost see the secret cause of all my cutting care , And knowes and hast what thing will comfort me vouchsafe some drop of mercie me to spare , That so my hart , that long hath bid in griefe , may praise thy name for tending my releefe . In wanton youth , my fancy thought a while , there was no state nor life so sweete as loue , But now I find how well did wit beguile , and I the paine of such a pleasure proue , I needes must say by true experience taught , I find in deede the state of loue starke naught . For first the wise , loue makes become a foole , the souldiour stout , the rich not worth a grote , The learned clarke , it sets againe to schoole to learne an art wherewith to cut his throate . It makes the man most free become a slaue , and many times an honest man a knaue . The Lord of loue Cupid him selfe is blind , yet shootes by ame and oft vnhappely hits . He hurts the hart , and quite doth dimme the mind , and with vile wayes doth ouerwhealme the wits ? What shall I say , who knew so much as I would deeme of loue a wofull misery .
A meane is best . WHen I sometime with griefe enough beheld the gallant troupe of brauenes in their kind Some swime in silke , some siluer pearle and gold , and I poore soule come meanely clad behind . Good Lord I thinke what kind of world is this when some so thriue , some fare so farre amisse . But when againe I see some lusty lad whom I my selfe haue knowne in meane estate , And in respect , but silly simple swads , and none to kepe so high and stately gate . Well , yet thinke I , this wil not euer last : the tides doe flow , but ebbe againe as fast . The prouerbe says , that pride wil haue a fall , who hath no lands , nor yet no rents , I sée When money melts , and fethers gin to fall , wil be ful glad , to come and folow me . Loe this is all , the sodaine ioy I haue : when richly clad I sée a rascall knaue ,
An other . FRom leathed bed , my lustles limmes I lifte , with heauy hart , with sorow , not with sléepe : But sigh and sobbe , I sée no other shift , such careful thoughts , my mind in thraldome kéepes , No Musickes mirth , nor any sweete delight : may once reuiue my ouer dulled spright . Yet can I sing : and how ? but as the swan : a doleful dumpe , when death is hard at hand : And so perhaps , poore wretch , I thinke I can , sing such a note , as none shal vnderstand . Which song perhaps , shall please but few that heare : and my poore hart ( God knowes ) as litle cheare . Then since you sée my hart so ill at ease , leaue of to craue a Christmas song of me : My dolefull dumpe , were liker to displease each one I feare , then please but one of ye . But if some one would sit him downe and crie : with sorrowes , sobs , so , but for shame would I.
The louer wearied , craueth ease . THough wearyed long , yet home I come at last , and down I sit , in sorrowes sory seat : Darke dole drawes on , delightful day is past , and fancy faire , must be my chiefest meate . I broake my faste , with dishes of despight : and now must suppe , with sorrowes soppes at night . In coldest frostes , my fire is furies flame , in whoatest heate , my cooling carde is care : My pleasure paine , which fates and fortune frame , my musicke moane , to thinke how hard I fare . My compame , a trayne of treacherie : my loathed lodge , a den of miserie . In such a house , what wretch would lay his head ? from faithles friendes , who would not seeke to flie ? Who pines in paine , were tenne times better dead , such life leade I , which makes me thus to crie . Ah woful wretch , whose hart so sore accurst : with swelling sobbes , is hourely like to burst .
The arraignement of a Louer , THe wretched wight , that weares away in woe . who drawes his dayes , in dumps of dire despight Whom care consumes , but doth no comfort know , who dying liues , deuoyde of all delight . Let him with me come sing this sorrowes song : the loathed life alas , doth last too long . In prime of yeares , first grew my deadly greefe , and as my yeares , my corzies doe increase : Rigor retaines , the meanes of my releefe , and spight stil sweares , my sorrowes shal not cease . Enuie so workes , with sleights of false suspect : that witles rage , doth reason quite reiect . Pride lookes alofte , and pittie shrinkes aside , and dare not speake , hate is so hard at hand : Disdaine , desart , hath due reward denide , and will , wil let no case be rightly scand . Loe thus I liue , in daunger of distresse : and right it selfe , can get me no redresse . The cause at first of al this care , was loue , who clapt me close , in fancies fetters fast : And so inforcd , a captiues life to proue , in prison pent , my prime of yeares are past , And yet can make no meanes to set me frée : till death him selfe , doe make an end of me . At beauties barre , I twise haue beene arrained , and crafte hath there , beene my accursed still : Foule hate was harde , and reason was restraind . and wicked wrong , had leaue to say his will , A forged tale of false suspect , was troth : and troth it selfe , was thought a trifling othe . In iudgement seate , by beautie sate disdaine , before her lappe , sate Cupid God of loue . Selfe will sate next , and treason with his traine , was witnes cald , my foule offence to proue . My cause , the Quest was panneld there to trie : who me condemnd ( God knowes ) without cause why . But beautie yet , her iudgement would not geue , for why ? ( quoth she ) the man may yet amend : His yeares are young , and he in time may liue to doe them good , that him doe fauour lend . Yea ( quoth disdaine ) dame beautie wil ye so , tush let him trudge , quoth Courtesie not so . Quoth Pride alas , it is a ●illy slaue , what should he doe ? t were good for him to die ▪ ( Quoth Pittie ) then let poore soules fauour haue , at least , extremitie , prooues open iniurie . ( Quoth Crueltie ) t were ill that he should liue : ( quoth Reason ) then I wil the man repriue .
Being ouerwearyed with misfortunes , he craueth death . MY wearie wit , quite ouerwor●e with woe , my dulled braine , bewitcht with wretched wil ▪ By certaine signes , doe dayly seeme to show , that care in fine , my sillie corps wil kill . Though hope a while , my loathed life prolong : sorrow at last , will singe the Signets song . For though sometime , I doe dissemble dole , and Swanlike singe a song of swéete delight : Yet God he knowes , my heart is farre from hole , which pining pants , with pangs of bitter spight . The cause I singe , is hope that death is me : the song I sing , is death come let me die . This deadly songe , in dole is my delight , and mournful mirth , to cheare a carefull minde : Yet such sad sporte , sometimes in déepest spight , is all the ioy , that fortune lets me finde . Yet thus content , with patience perforce : I singe , I die , come beare away my corse .
The Louers tongue tyed , for being ouer - 〈◊〉 . I May not speake , yet speake I must perforce ; what boo●es to speake ? you wil not vnderstand : I must confesse in deede , my voice is hoarce , yet if my wordes were wel and wisely skand , Then would you say , the man whose tongue is tied : must haue his minde , by misteries discried . So for my selfe , since I haue silence sworne , til I haue leaue at large to say my minde : Plaine speach , alas , must be of force forborne , vntil to speake , I doe 〈◊〉 ●auour finde . But had I leaue to speake without offence , then would ( I say she lyes not long way hence . ) This is one meane , wherby to know my minde , the second is , I rue her carefull case : The third ( swéete soule ) she is of nature kinde , the fourth , she is of fauoure like your face . The fifte , she is a faire and courteous dame : the sixte and last , she beares our Ladies name . She is besides , the onely Saint I serue , she is the sweete , whome I doe most esteeme : She is the dame , whom I doe most deserue , yea it is she , whome I most deare doe deeme . And thus I end , I say no more but this , I cannot speake , iudge what my meaning is .
Another . I May not speake , yet silence workes my woe , my speach I haue , and yet I cannot speake : My tyed tongue , doth tumble too and fro , my wil would faine , but wits are all too weake . My hart doth heaue my tongue to tell my minde : yet to my speache , a sodaine stop I finde . Yet , had I leaue , to say but what I would , then would I 〈…〉 wits vnto my will : My tyed tongue should tel you as it could , the thing that yet , I must keepe silent still . My hart would breake , but it by signes should show : that which by speach , I may not let you know . Then speake 〈◊〉 first , and so my speach release , craue what I may my words shal graunt your will : Speake you , heare me , but if you holde your peace , my tyed tongue , must needes be silent still . And thus I ende , my harte is like to breake with griefe ▪ remitte your will to let me speake . Say you but this , my wordes shal like your will , and you shal heare the 〈◊〉 of my hart : And if my wittes doe wante such cunning skill , as wel may painte my panges in euery parte , Yet by my wordes , gesse thou my inwarde grie●e : and by thy will graunt me some sweete relie●e .
He craueth by vertue , and not by subtiltie , to come to good fortune . WHat meanes this world ? is nothing left but woe ? are wordes but winde ? is faith the court●●y fled ? Can flatterie séeke to créepe in credite so ? is vertue gone ? and all good dealing dead ? Then let me seeke ▪ to doe as others doe : by subtile sleights , to creepe in credite too . What haue I saide ? shal I by subtile ●leight séeke credite ? no , my hart such dealing hates : My troth hath vowd , for to detest deceit , such meanes are best , for such ill meaning mates As credite seeke , vnto so vile an end : as wisdome findes , a foe of such a friend . And for my selfe , since that I know indéede , that vertue gaines the greatest good that is : Although with some , it stande in little steade , yet with the best , it thryueth not amisse . I craue of God , though here my hap be hard : by vertue I , in heauen may haue reward .
Loue good and badde . STraunge were the life , that euery man would léeke , more straunge the state that should mislike ech one Rare were the iemme , that euery one would seeke , and little worth , that all would let alone . Swéete were the meate , that euery one would choose : and soure the sauce , that all men would refuse . Yet such a life , and such a state there is , such iemme , such ioy , such meate , such sauce , and all : And if I doe not take my markes amisse , by but one worde , I could descry them all . Which onely worde , that shewes them all by name : is this worde ( Loue ) that plainly shewes the same . Who would not wish to leade his life in loue ? and who so madde , to séeke to liue in woe ? Yet he that meanes , the ioyes of loue to proue , is like perforce , most bitter panges to know . In loue such woes , with ioyes are ioynde together : take t 'one , take both , or leaue both , chose you whether . Loue right is rare , and worthy to be sought , but counterfaite , is but a foolish toy : Whose vertues rare , as rare effectes haue wrought , and which mista●e , hath wrought as great annoy . But right so rare , and hard is to be knowne : as who would seeke , were better let alone . Fonde fancies fruites , are all the foode of loue , whose sause most soure , is sorrowes sugred gall : Which messe of meate , doth in disgestion proue , to yeld both minde and bodie , comfort small . Yet see the spite , who of the fruite would eate : must suppe th● sauce , or let alone the meate .
Another . Eh cruell care , that cals to minde in vaine , the thriftles time , that reachles youth hath spent : Hadst thou but waighd , in pleasures past the paine , that present now , I doe too late repent , Then hadst thou sau'de me , from such sorrowes smart : as now I sée , doe so consume my hart . But since at first , thou letst me slippe at large , to follow wil , the worker of my woe : Too late ( alas ) thou takst me now in charge , with secreat sorrowes to consume me so . Then leaue me , Care , or quickly lend me cure : least loathed life , no longer doe endure . What sayst thou Care ? or canst thou make no way , to winne the good , that wanton will hath lost : Oh then good death , doe thou no more delay , to kill me , thus with careful troubles tost . But must I liue ? then God who knowes my griefe : cut of my cares , and lend me some reliefe . Long haue I walkt , to tire my restles minde , yet tyred am long since , with weary woes : And yet ( though tierd ) no resting place can finde , where I might once my restles minde repose : But tyred thus , on , on , must trauaile still : till want of rest , my wearyed carkas kil . Ah wretched walke , that hath such weary ende , which ende though long , would I could finde it yet : But fates doe frowne , fortune is not my frend , and wretched woes haue ouerworne my wit . So that in vaine I seeke , I see in fine : to set at rest , this wearye minde of mine . I sought for loue , but found out foule despight , ( a way that was quite wide from that , I sought : ) But since ( alas ) I followed follie quight , and left the way , that trustie reason taught , In weary wayes , I now must wander stil : to see the sorrowes of my wretched will . But Ladies yee , that leade your liues at ease , and are not forcd , to treade one step awry : Nor passe one foote , more then may pleasure please , with ruth respecte , my wofull treachery . And when you fall into your tyring talke : with pittie waigh , poore Bretons wearie walke .
Another . T Is straunge , Madame , to see you straunge , that stoode so much on tearmes of truth : From which so soone to see you chaunge , doth shew in you a tricke of youth . A trick of youth to take a toy , to take a toy and tourne away : And tourne away from your sweete ioy , from your sweete ioy , that would not stray . From whom you once could say and sweare , not death it selfe should make you start : But since you lickt and likd els where , your vowed oath is layd a parte . And let it lye a parte for me , for I my selfe haue vowed too : To flie as farre , as fast from thee , as thou from me canst thinke to doe . And so shall either be content , thou hast thy wish , and I my will : Whereof who first seemes to repent , let them bite on the bridle still .
Another . T Is luste that leades your loue awry , t is chaunge that makes you check your choise : T is fancie makes your faith to fly , t is follie makes you false your voice . But reckon what you get thereby : And put your winnings in your eye . T is wanton wordes that winnes your will , t is wauering wit that makes you trippe : T is double dealing drawes you still , t is sorrie meaning makes you slippe . But reckon what you get thereby : and put your winnings in your eye . For luste with loathing once wil reaue , and chaunge perchaunce your choise will choke : Fonde fancie ofte her fall doth weaue , that puts on follie for her cloake . But reckon what you gaine thereby : and put your winninges in your eye . When wanton woordes are tournd to winde , and wauering witte , hath wrought your woe , Then dooble dealinge you shall finde and sorry meaning both your foe : And counting then your gaine thereby , you may put winninges in your eye .
The frutes of ielousy . DAme Procris , & Don Cephalus , old Ouid tels the tale were lincked fast in loyall loue , as maried man & wife , And blisfully they lead their liues , deuoyde of any bale , till Ielousy threw in a boane , the roote of all their strife . He gaue the first occasion , and subtillie he sought , disfigured to prooue her truth , corrupting her with gold : To vnderminde her chastitie , this ●aight her loue hath cought , for where the batterie is so hoat , weake women cannot hold . He blameth her inconstancie , she blusheth at her fall , and for to shrowde her self fro shame , she frames her self to flight : Thus banished , she bides abroad , til weried therwithal , he cald her home , and reconcil'd , he doth forgeue her quight . In profe of this attonement made , on him she doth bestow , a dogge , a darte , of sundrie sorte , excelling in their kinde : The dogge he mist no chase in hunt , the darte it mist no blow , a man might seeke the world for such , yet not their matches finde In concord thus continuing , Don Cephalus doth vse : to haunt the field with more delight , then euer he was wont : Dame Procris she that markt it well , beginneth now to muse , and thinkes it but vnlawfull game , her husband went to hunt . See , see the fruites of ielosie , see on what ground they grow , on no soyle els I warrante you , but such as hat● a staine : Silde seekes the Sire his sonne in ouen , but that he first did know himselfe ful ofte to haue beene there , this case is too too plaine .
Vpon a sweete smile . SWéete are the smiles , in secreat I receaue , and secreat sweete , is swéetest swéete of all : Would God ( swéete wench ) thou plainly didst perceaue , how by thy smiles , I liue deuoyd of thrall . Then ( my sweete soule ) I know to my delight : thou stil wouldst vse , swéete smiling in my sight . For if swéete hope , yeald me such swéetnes still , my fancie swéete , for foode wil neuer sterue : I can but yeald swéete thankes for swéete good will , and sweetely séeke , such sweetnes to deserue . And could my wish , once winne my sweete desire , soone should I reape , the swéete I would require . Which sweete request , is to thy sweete content , by thy sweete will , to worke my sweetest wish : Which wish so sweete , my sweete so sweetely ment , is by sweete baite , to catch so sweete a fish , Which baite so sweete , is loue I lay for thee , and thou the fish , I seeke to draw to me . Which sweetely let thy fancy feede vpon , and thou shalt finde so sweete a kinde of baight : as by my hooke of hope , I thinke anone , to draw thee vp , by lines of sweete delight . And thus ( my sweete ) I swéetely angle still : till my sweete loue , hath caught thy sweete good will .
An inuectiue against loue . WIth ue , that see my loyall harte : graunt my desire , enioy his due desarte . That all the world , may wel be warnd by me , to shun such mischieues , as themselues may sée . Let Poets fayne and tell what tales they list , the troth is this , loue growes in deede of lust First looke , then prate , and so forsooth they kist , and then you know what further follow must . Which to obtaine , yet better be without , how wittes must worke to bring this geare about . Loue is in déede a naturall instinct , which first doth grow but by view of the eye , Which moues desire to passe beyond precinct , and so doth bréede a secreate malady . So loue is then a naturall disease and doth in déede to nature little ease . The law of loue instruckes no more but this , truely to serue the lady whome we loue : To prooue each meane to please a misteris , whome euery toy may to displeasure moue . It is I finde a flatteringe kinde of arte , which with deceit will fraught the truest hart . And if it be as learned fathers finde , it is a fire that doth consume the harte : A welcome wounde vnto the wanton minde , a pleasaunte poyson bréeding deadly smarte . And if in loue be such a state to proue : happie is he that neuer falles in loue . And for my selfe I solemnly protest See , see the fruites of ielosie , see on what groun● 〈…〉 on no soyle els I warrante you , but such as hath 〈…〉 Silde seekes the Sire his sonne in ouen , but that he first did know himselfe ful ofte to haue beene there , this case is too too plaine . Which since I doe by true experience proue , I hate the nature , state , and lawe of loue .
He craueth speedie loue , or speedie death . OH care leaue of to tire my restles minde , come comforte , come , reuiue my dulled spright : Flie fancie , flie , or els some fauoure finde , cease sorrow , cease , loue lende me some delight . Auaunte despaire , oh helpe me hope in haste , happe helpe my hope , least life no longer last . Drawe neare delight , cheare vp my heauie harte , packe from me paine , away vile wretched woe : Swéete heauenly ioye , come helpe my secreate smarte , oh ruthe relieue the wretch that sorrowes so . Griefe get thee gone , let pleasure take thy place : hence vgly death , for I must liue a space . Mistres deare , dame sweete , soueraigne , my ioy , the Saint I serue , the comforte of my care : My hope , my healpe , my mirth in all annoy , my loue , my life , my ioy of ioyes that are . Oh saue my life , that thus on thée doe cry : lende me thy loue , or let me quickly die . My faith hath vowde to foyle all false suspecte , and will wil worke in spite of enuies face : Trothe is the othe which I cannot neglecte , that loue should finde to gaine his ladies grace . Oh Gods of loue , that see my loyall harte : graunt my desire , enioy his due desarte .
He being tormented with manie passions , craueth speedie remedie . WHether wil wit ? or what ? is reason fled ? what wretched will hath now bewitchd my brain What rechlesse rage kéepes reags within my head ? what frantike fitte , hath vexd me in ech vaine . What mad conceite , doth thus my minde molest ? that tumbling thoughts , wil neuer let me rest . Worke no more wit , till reason rule thy will , by sage aduise , to stay thy busie braine : Suppresse thy rage , by sacred wisdomes skill , and frantike fits wil flie away againe . Let madnes marche , into some other minde : and séeke thy selfe , some quyet rest to finde . For liuing thus , thy wit doth worke thée woe , and braine bewitchd , doth breede thee wilfull bale : And rueful rage , in time wil rancor soe , that wil cannot , geue eare to wisoomes tale . Therfore ( good will ) let wit in time take héede : least reason lost , thou runne starke madde indéede . Yet sit not stil , for idlenes is ill , but call to God , to graunt thee heauenly grace : That willing wit , may worke his heauenly will , and troubled minde , may finde a heauenly place . About this worke , goe beate thy busie braine : both rest on earth , and heauenly ioyes to gaine .
That wight is bewitched , that is subiect to beautie . THe griefe is great , that neuer findes redresse , harde is his hap , that findes no happy houre : Doleful his doome , that dyeth in distresse , bewitchd the will , that waites on beauties bower . Wretched his woes , that is bewrapt in loue : such griefe happe , doome , and wretched state I proue . For fancie now , hath reason put to flight , and witles will , doth wisdomes wordes disdaine : Desire , acquaints him selfe with fonde delight , and running wit , hath got a wanton vaine . Selfe will hath sought , sage wisdome to beguile : and hath in deede , deceaud himselfe the while . For fancies gaine , is losse , vnto my griefe , and reason fled , what rechles race I run : My déepe distresse , dispayring in reliefe , doth tell me plaine , my pleasant dayes are done . My foule despight , doth shew my mourning minde : the bitter fruites , of fonde delight I finde . Repentance rues sage wisdomes small regard , and wretched woes , doe wanton toyes bewaile : And heauie harte , lamenteth hap so hard , and sorrow shewes , that selfe willes sleights doe faile , Which makes me sing , vnto my dying hower : bewitchd is he , that waytes on beauties bower .
Seeke , and finde . THe prouerbe sayes , who seekes shal surely finde , shall finde ? but what ? not that he séekes I gesse ▪ For why ? my selfe haue sought in sundrie kinde , vnto my griefe , to finde some swéete redresse . And sure I finde , but what ? for sweete delight : the bitter fruites of broyle and dire despight . Then , who seekes so , were better not to seeke , or if he séeke , were better lose then finde : For he that findes vnto his most misléeke , will where he findes , his burthen leaue behinde . And stande content , with laboure spent in vaine : rather then beare it to his further paine . Yet he that seekes to finde out sweete delight , and seeking , séekes the surest way he may , T is tenne to one , but he shal méete despight ▪ which if he finde , he néedes must beare away , Or els despight wil driue him too and fro : from all delight into a world of woe . So that which way so ere he goe to worke , to finde the way that leades vnto delight : Such enuious hagges shal finde in secreate lurke : as stil will seeke to driue him on despight . Yet what of this ? in spite of all despight : my minde shal séeke to finde out my delight .
The louer argueth betweene delight , and despight . WHen ioyes doe fade , and all delight decayes , and pinching paine , possesseth pleasures place : And wretched woe , in wearie wofull wayes , drawes forth the life , in griefe and great disgrace . Who then can choose , but in his harte to crie ? adue delight , I must in sorrow die . Adue deligh ▪ oh what a dolefull song ? why solemne songes serue best for silly soules : Then why shrinke I ? who dying , liue too long , and daylie heare the howerly carefull knowles . The bell of bale ringes out both day and night : to bid me die , and bid adue delight . Yet mindes wil mourne , when mirth is changd to ●●ne , and hearts wil yearne to bid delight adue : The sowrest life , seemes sweete til latest grone , many repente , and yet repentance rue . The fancie likes , that breedes the harts despight : which makes me singe , adue to all delight . And yet God knowes , it is a sighing song , and such a song as greeues me sore to sing : But since my Lute is lost , I playd on long , and sorrow is my onely Musickes string . Which runnes betweene the frets of foule despight : I am content to sing adue delight .
Oh miseri amanti . WHat greater woe can be then want of wish ? and what such ioy as to attaine the same ? A soure sauce , doth marre the daintiest dish ▪ no greater griefe , then that which growes in game . What spight to that , which pleasaunte sporte procures : what sorrow such , as man in mirth indures . This wante of wishe , which worketh deadly woe , and being gainde doth breede as great a ioy : This soure sauce , that marreth sweete meate so , this griefe in game , this pleasure with annoy . This spitefull sporte , and mourneful 〈◊〉 to proue : is but to leade a luckles life in loue . For see , the ioyes are woes of louers wish , whose gaine yealds losse , whose want bréedes wailful woe : Whose sauce is sorrow , to his daintiest dish , whose griefe in game , is doubt in yea or 〈◊〉 . Whose spight in sporte , is ioy amisse conceiud : whose mirth in mone , is death , the minde deceiud . Oh 〈◊〉 wish which each way worketh woe , oh luckles loue , which yeldes such sower swéete oh froward fates , that first ordained so , that mone with mirth should match so farre vnméete : Oh wretch , aid me that thus am forc'd to proue , the gréeuous ioyes , by luckles lottes of loue .
A Farewell to Fancie . FAncy farewell my doating dayes are done , my yeares are young but wit is waxen old Reason sayth now my retchlesse rafe is runne , and wisdome hath my wanton will controld : And tels me plaine that pleasures frutes are paine and worldly thinges are all and some but vaine . Kingdomes bréede cares , and treasure is but trashe beauty bides not and fauour fades away . Frendship bréedes foes , loue leaueth in the lash the fayrest lookes when liking doth decay Byting bréedes lust , lust losse , losse little ease small ease , great griefe , great griefe no small disease . Disease breedes dole , dole breedeth doleful care , care doth consume , consumption day by day Doth feede on flesh , till bones be left so bare , that loathed life , must haue his dying day . And worldly death , breedes life in heauen on hie : to which good life , God graunt that I may die .
The Louer being kaught , craueth comforte . SWeete soule , or Saint , I know not which to say , whose heauenlie power , or heauenly hart at least ▪ With onely sight my senses doth dismay , as minde amasde , can take no hower of rest , To thée alas , vnknowne , this suite I moue : comforte thy slaue , whom thou hast caught in loue . What haue I sayd ? alas , by only sight , and haue thy lookes then linckt my hart in loue ? Yea in thy lookes , I sée such swéete delight , as to desire , diuinest mindes may moue . Therefore thus cought , with onely looke I say : a looke I loue , and more too as I may . But since that may , rests only in thy will , by lookes to shew , my graunted leaue to liue , Let me enioy , such lookes of liking still , that I may vowe , my minde shal neuer moue . But looke and like , and loue that only looke : on which to looke , such sweete delight I tooke . And thus I liue , in hope to see the looke , that by delight , may bid me seeke to serue : Nor doe I care , what toile I vndertooke , by thy commaunde thy liking to deserue . So humbly thus , this earnest suite I moue , doe bid me serue , where I am bound to loue .
The Louer craueth either speedie release , or els speedie death . DRiuen by desire , to séeke out sweete delight , I fast am caught in dungeon of distresse : Where cloase clapt vp , I lie in such despight , as reason shewes no way to séeke redresse . But captiue like , to sit alone and crie , adue delight , I must in sorrow die . Too true I finde , who followes on his eye , is sildome sure the high way right to hitte : For many toyes , doe leade the minde awrie , except that wil , be guyded on by witte . For mistes doe fall , to dimme the clearest eyne , so fell a fogge before these eyes of mine . I sawe a dame , which did mine eye delight , but secreat hurte of loue I could not sée : For why ? her state was set on such a hight , as oh , I finde no clyming vp for me . So to delight in loue , I sought the way : in whose despight , I finde mine owne decay . Yet farewel sweete , the cause of all my care , I blame not thée , mine eye did worke my woe , But since that loue lendes such vnhappy share , the kindest harte , to kill with sorrow so , I am content , in this distresse to lie : til loue release , or death wil let me die .
A Louer voweth constancie to his Ladie . IN little chestes the greatest iewels lie , and smallest heads , are thought of greatest witte : Clearest the sight , that can by vew of eye discerne the marke , that hardest is to hitte . And happy he , that beares his hande so right : as ( hauing seene ) is sure to hit the whight . Your chest I finde , the carefull casket is , where now doth rest the iemme of chiefe account : Your sight of sence , hath found by sure aduice , the heauenly wight vpon Dianas mount , And you by hap , haue surely hit the marke , that how to finde , may maze a cunning Clarke . But who could keepe the key of such a chest , or had a head , might ioyne with such a witte , Or could discerne , where his desire doth rest , as harte doth wish with happy hande to hit . His happe were such , as I can neuer craue , but wish of God , my haples harte might haue . So ( pretty soule ) a solemne vowe I sweare , I would not seeke for iemmes of greater ioy , Nor should mine eye , be trouling here and there , to make a marke of any tysing toy . But where I once my leauel lay of loue , my hande shal holde , and harte shal neuer moue .
The Louer forsaken , and almost dismaide , yet through hope taketh comforte . FLy fancie , flie , and let me loue no more , what meanes my wil ? or are my wits bestraught ? Die swéete desire , molest me not so sore , but seeke to saue , that thou in vayne hast sought : For sorrowe shewes , the woe of wretched will , and force affirmes , but frowarde fortune still . Where least I like , my loue hath lent me losse , where most I loue , my liking findeth lack : What bootes my barke in waues of woe to tosse ? when sorrowes sandes , doe threaten sore shipwrack , Such stormes of strife , so rife in euery coast as ( but great happe ) shew life and laboure lost . Yet ( cowarde wretch ) wilt thou goe back agayne ? and keepe thy couch , and leaue to seeke delight ? Make sure accounte , no pleasure without payne , the sweetest ioyes , are gainde through sore despight . Then get thee forth , in hope goe hoyse vp sayle : the winde may tourne , and worke for thine auayle . Let hardie hope , daunte feareful fonde despaire , prepare thy selfe to leade a souldiars life : Through thicke and thinne , by weather foule or faire , passe through the pikes , and dread no deadly strife . And though long first , yet when the worst is past : the best wil yealde , some wished ioyes at last .
Another . I Shrinke to speake , since yet I haue no leaue , and yet my harte , so heaues my tongue to speake , As that in deede , I plainly doe perceaue , with force of fame , my very hart stringes breake . Which force must be , with fauoure ouerprest , or els my hart , wil neuer sitte at rest . Forgeue me wretch , if that my wordes offende , fancie hath forcde , my sillie minde to sue : Some lyking , let good nature to me sende , my minde hath sworne , our Ladie seruice due . Then if thou lou'st our Ladie , or her name : regarde my suite , graunt fauoure to the same , Which fauoure ( loe ) I onely craue , is this , to graunt me leaue , to say but what I could : Say but my wordes , thou wilt not like amisse , and thou shalt heare my meaning , what I would . But til that time , as I haue sayd before I must be dumbe , and die in dole therefore .
The louer in sorrow craueth death . HOw might I doe , to weepe and wayle my fil , that dolefull dumpes , might soone dispatch my dayes , Since sorrowe seekes , my carkas so to kill , oh doleful doome , that so my death delayes , I see , selfewil hath wrought me such distresse , as reason shewes no hope to finde redresse . Yet die I must , I feele deathes deadly stroake , my carkase eke , is nie consumde with care : Why liue I then ? since that my hart is broke , but liuing thus , like one halfe dead I fare . Which makes me thus at pointe of death to crie : strike home thy darte , good death , and let me die . Patience prolonges the patient in paine , comforte relieues , but rids not sorrow quight : Hope lingers forth , a loathed life in vaine , fortune is false , and frendes no wretched wight , The fates doe groane , dole is my destinie : why liue I then ? good death come let me die .
Harde to finde a faithful frende . HE seekes vnsure , that seekes to finde a friend , for faith is fled , and frendes are secrete foes : A shew of trothe , tryes treason in the ende , and many pluck a canker for a rose . This wretched world , is ful of wicked wiles : when simple geese , the subtile foxe beguiles . For stinging snakes , lie hid in smoothest grasse , and softest streame , doth shew the deepest floud : No closer craft , then in the glosing glasse , which flatters much , and shewes no perfect good . I finde in deede , no greater subtiltie : then couered is with smoothe simplicitie . Then deeme I best , eche where to doubt the worst , to make account of eche thing by desarte : Or ere I choose , to make true tryall first , by tryall then , for to esteeme in harte . Thus thinke I best , such trusty frends to finde : as may content ech faithful meaning minde .
He craueth content , being ouerworne with Loue . OH Loue , leaue of to vexe thy silly slaue , to bide the broyle , some fresher souldyer seeke : Thus worne with woes , some comforte let me ahue , that so thou mayst , my seruice better leeke . For if that care doe quite my carkasse kill : how should I liue , to doe thee seruice still . Beholde my face , my flesh is falne away , see how mine eyes sinke hollow in my head : My dumpes declares , how my delights decay , deeme if I seeme more like aliue or dead . Let lyking loue , some comforte me procure : least loathed life , no longer doe endure . Oh heare me Loue , and lende me helpe in hast , the time is come that I must liue or die : Stay not too long , least all too late at last , in vayne ( alas ) thou lende me remedie . I humblie craue , my humble suite regarde , graunt my desire may haue his due rewarde .
De contemptu mundi , IN depe despite of this vile world I write , what is it ? but a vale of miserie : A caue of care , a dongeon of despite , a place of payne , a penne of penurie , A sea of sorrowes , and a goulph of griefe , where wretched hartes doe die without reliefe . The wise man wrytes it is a poysoned baight , which doth with toyes , the godly minde infecte : A wanton theese , which cloasly lyes in waight , to robbe the minde of euery good effecte . It is a grounde , where onely griefes doe groe : and to conclude , a wildernes of woe . Now , why my selfe so ill thereof should deeme some men may muse , that see my youthfull yeares : Oh softe a while , though young of yeares I séeme , my youth hath past through many aged bryers , But now that I am yet beyonde the bushes , I doe not care for all the worlde two rushes , Saue that my Prince I honour , I protest , my Parentes eke , and so I loue my friend : Set these aside , and as for all the rest , of loue and liking I must make an ende . I hate the worlde , and all the toyes therein : and longe to sée my ioyes in heauen beginne .
Maledisant Beuchampe . THe tender budde , that brauely ginnes to blow , while summer showers yeeldes comforte to the roote : If that vnwares , there fall a sodaine snow , no sunné can shine , that wel may doe it boote , Except it holde but for a day , and so It may haue leaue to make a liuely show . My selfe the slower , that flourisht all too fast , while fauour flonge faire weather in my face , But now must die , my pleasures ouerpast , to see disdaine , so driue me in disgrace . By due desarte , whereon ( ay me ) to thinke : From swéete delight , my head begins to shrinke . And coolde of care so nips my hart at roote , as that except , you fauoure seeme to shew : No sunne can shine , that wel may doe it boote , with frost of feare , it wil be withered so . Wherfore deare dame , let fauour saue the flower : Whose life or death , lyes only in your power .
Oh che dolore . IF in the world , there be but onely one , gainst whose good hap , both heauen & earth are bent , Whom lot hath lefte in sorrowes seate alone , her thriftles time , with fruitles trauell spent To waile in vaine , and mourning so to dye , by heauens I thinke , that onely wenche am I. For natures griefes , are cur'd by Phisickes arte . and counsaile , much doth comforte careful minde : But such a pange , doth pinche me at the harte , as Phisick , frende , and all I frustrate finde . So that I see , the heauens for me prepare , to liue in thought , and pine away in care , Then sith such life , to some one is assignde , and I that one , on whome that lotte doth fall , With crooked care , I wil content my minde , til death desirde , doe make an end of all , Whose long delayes , I doe too long endure , and know not how , his comforte to procure . Oh straunge disease , that nature neuer knew , then not to blame in leauing no redresse : Oh cause accurst , wherof such sorrow grew , as soakes the harte that dyeth in distresse . Oh harte what helpe ? but stil in woes to waste : til death oft wishd , doe end my dole at last .
The Louer casteth all mourning away . LAment that liste , I can no longer mourne , the heauie thoughts that lay vpon my hart : To happy ioyes the heauenly fates doe tourne , and swéete conceites , haue cut of sorrowes smart . The feare is fled , of heauenly fauour lost , and hope attainde , of that I wished most . My most desire , was seruice due rewarde , my greatest feare , was force of fortunes spight : My prayer yet , the heauenly powers haue harde , that due desarte , might once enioy delight . Which I protest , since that I now possesse : my griefe no more , nor ioy was euer lesse . Your fauour was the thing my seruice sought , and your dislike , did make me doubt despight : But yet my harte , had stil this happy thought , when rage was past , remorse would lende delight , Which true I finde , and sing in hart therefore : lamente that list , for I wil mourne no more .
The Louer compareth his ill lucke , to Philomelas ill fortune . NOthing on earth remaines , to shew aright the patterne true of my increasing care : But Philomela with her song by night , whose rueful state to mine I may compare . With careful watch she preacheth in the tree , when creatures all into their nestes doe creepe : So from mine eyes all sweete repos doth flee , when men are wonte of course to take their sleepe . She with a thorne , against her tender brest : I with the darte , of cruel loues vnrest . This gentle birde , her yealding voyce doth straine , to wayle the wronges , that Progne did endure : I haples man , vpon the wight complaine , that causeles doth , to me these woes procure . And when she doth , a tune so dolefull frame , as wel might moue , the heauens to moane her plight , ( Oh griefe of griefes ) yet such as heare the same , rue not her songe , but therein take delight , Likewise my plaints , which bring from me salte teares seeme pleasaunte suites vnto my mistres eares .
An other . THe tender budde that brauely ginnes to blow , while sunnie showers yealdes comfort to the roote , If that vnwares , there fall a sodaine snow , no sunne can serue , that wel may doe it boote , Except it holde but for a day , and so it may haue leaue , to make a liuely show . My selfe the flower , that flourish all too fast , while fauoure flonge fayre weather in my face : But now must die , my pleasures ouerpast , to see disdaine , so driue me in disgrace By due desarte , whereon ( ay me ) to thinke : From swéete delight , my head begins to shrinke . And coolde of care so nips my hart at roote , as that except , you fauoure seeme to show : No sunne can shine , that wel may doe it boote , with frost of feare , it wil be withered so . Wherfore deare dame , let fauour saue the flower : Whose life or death , lyes only in your power .
Another . THe day of my delight is ouercast , And cloudes of care beginne apace to rise : The sunne doth goe his course , midday is past , Night will insue , my mistres shuttes her eyes , The glistering beames whereof , gaue me that light : Which others haue , whil'st I bewayle the night . But should the sunne stande alwayes in one place ▪ Sure that contrary were vnto her kinde : The warme desires that grow by her good grace , Woulde burne , and so con●ume both harte and minde . The course we keepe in middle spheare is best , Where rowling stil , she seekes a place to rest . Disdaine doth driue these clowdes of my despaire : And shades the sunne from shining in the aire .
Another . THe shafte that Cupids bowe hath shotte , hath Vulcane forged in my brest : The fire which made the iron whotte , desire did blow and neuer rest , The cooles of care which burnte was loue , the steele was trust whereon he strikes : The hammers hope which alwayes proue , to frame the shape which best he likes . Teares serue the tourne to quench the fire , and fancie files the arrow head : Payne payes the workemen for their hire , the wounde is deepe , which neuer bled .
Lenuoy . To heale this hurte , is readyest meane : To shoote his arrow back againe .
A Gentleman dallyeth with his Lute . THou knowest ( my Lute ) if thou knowest ought , that Musicke stil doth couet chaunge : Stale beaten stuffe is counted nought , new from the stampe is counted straunge . And straunge deuises stil delight , such daintie wittes as diuers be : Deere bought is good in euery plight , farre fette , for Ladyes , and for me . If Tigell bring vs nothing els , but stil doe pleade vpon a song : And play vs nought but Osnay bels , then Tigell doth the Cuckow wrong . Lie downe therefore , my little Lute , and geue me leaue a litte while : From case to plucke my little Flute , the time a little to beguile . Thou knewst when I was wel content , til midnight thee for to embrace : Another now wil thée preuent , and séeke to keepe thy wonted place . And I who thought it did suffise , with thée an houre or two to play : Must now assay in other wise , some sporte to finde till it be day . Contente thée then and holde thee stil , my Lute I pray thée doe not fume : Although I séeke against thy wil , another instrumente to tune . And when I haue assaide my wits , that I can play both true and playne : Then will I visite thee by fittes , and wil retourne to thee againe .
The Louer shewing his loyaltie , and findinge no fauoure , is contented to geue ouer . I Maruaile why you be so straunge , when once you did professe such loue : Or why seeke you so sodayne chaunge , sith faulte in me you cannot proue . My seruice hath béene readie preast , at euery becke to come at call : And I as faithfull as the rest , or any one amongst them all . The day as yet hath lothsome beene , in which my seruice hath beene tride : The loyaltie that I liue in , and constant harte wherein I bide . The surging seas , the flashing flouds , are here at barre my trothe to proue : The craggie hilles , the desarte wooddes , if they coulde speake would shew my loue . My tongue , my penne , my hande , my harte , were euer bente to doe your will : And I not minded for to starte , but so for to continue still . Yet all this trothe , which I doe owe , you seeme but little to regarde : The faithfull loue which I did sow , doth yealde disdaine for my rewarde . But since my chaunce doth so befall , I must of force this loue refraine : As good to leaue as to lose all , if griefe be all that I shal gaine . Sith then , for that I longe and sue , some others haue for little coste : T is time to leaue and say adue , shake handes with me and farewel frost .
Another . I May and I may not , I would but I cannot , For makinge of strife . If I might as I may not , I woulde doe as I doe not , But if that I shall not , Then farewell my life . But yet I doubt not , Neither dispaire I not , If you denye not , My lawfull request . While you dissemble not , Smile on and spare not , More pleasure I aske not , Then you to loue best .
A Louer forsaken , despayreth . MY sences are not yet so dull , as you ( perhaps ) suppose they be : For I can spie and marke at full , the craftie sleightes you vse with me . And time wil come ere it be longe : I may requight you of this wronge . For though I winke I am not blinde , through little holes the day I spie : Your subtile secreate I can finde , wherewith you thinke to bleare mine eye , And yet I seeme to slumber still , when that I see against my will : I taste alas ( the more my payne ) the brackish teares as salte as brine , That trickling on my chéekes remayne , distilling from my blubbered eyne . So much you féede me with this taste : that life and all therewith you waste . I heare and so doe many moe , your nipping frumppes and taunting toyes : And where you blaze them well I know , among your youthfull Courtly boyes . Which when I heare , I would that death , woulde come and stoppe my gasping breath . I smell my loathsome carryon coarce , with carping cares tournd now to dust : In thee remaynes yet no remorce , but beastly stil , liue as you lust . Like smelling hounde , I vent thy trace : and can foote out thy vaulting place . I feele the priuie grieping nippes , wherewith you purpose me to kill : Who lookes for ought at sower slippes , but choakiug fruite , that soone will spill . I feele you teare and rent my harte : though vndeserued for my parte . I see that death his browes doth bende , I taste all paynes that one may haue , I heare the bell biddes make an ende , I smell the dampnes of my graue . I feele , and so I will conclude : that all my loue you doe delude .
The praise of his Ladie . WHat man can keepe in silence long the beautie of so faire a dame : Or who can holde or stay his tongue , from blasing out her worthy fame ? Though lande and life thereon did lie : I tell you trothe it is not I. Whose beautie when I seeke to blase . I see the dulnes of my witte : Yet doth it nothing me amase , good will enforceth so to it . And I am vrgde against my will : to shew the bluntnes of my skill . Her comely face who list to vew , with all the features of the same : Must needes her tearme ( if he say true ) a Goddes , and no earthly dame . For Helen she doth passe as farre : as doah the sunne the shining starre , Beholde her body straight as line . her armes so tirmme , so longe , so smll : Her handes so neate , so white , so fine , her fingers longe and straight withall . That you woulde easly iudge with me : the like of her vnborne to be . I needed not ( if she were here ) with poynted wordes to praise her grace : Nor to display her fauour cleare , with all the beautie of her face , I wish this rowme she did ●●pplie : then shoulde you sée if that I lie , If princockes Paris were aliue , and choyse of damsels had at will : Disposed once againe to wiue , his wittes I know were not so ill , To leaue vnchoase this Princely peece : for all the passing gyrles of Greece . Not This be braue that was sometime a Louer vnto Piramus : Lucretias fauour for to finde , wherewith she coyde Tarquimius . But she doth farther both excell : then I am able for to tell , In fine , if equally you woulde each parte in her with iudgement way : By true constrainte confesse you should , and thereof here my lyfe I lay . It were not now in natures might , to frame so faire and trimme a wight . To all these graces , she hath store of mercy and of perfecte loue , No earthly wight I know hath more , as tryall telles , when truth shal proue , I harde when nature sayd and sware , she was the Iewel of her ware . For madde you might me then condemne , if I would thinke my selfe so wise : That I were able with my penne to set her out before your eyes ▪ Sith wel I know , the like by birth ; as yet did neuer liue on earth .
Another . WAy Lady mine , I thee beseech with loyal louing hart : In equal ballance my good wil , & yeeld me my desart . Ladie . Lay forth in true vnforged tale , the summe of all thy suite : Euen as my eare shal like or leaue , so looke to reape thy fruite . Louer . Let fauour thine then furnish vp , that fancy mine doth craue : Lende Louer true , for lew of loue , the guerdone he should haue . Ladie . Truth lies not alwayes in the shew , that glisters in the eine : Trust asketh further triall still , and triall asketh time . Louer . I caste my gloue to him that dares , my loyaltie disproue : A better proofe in alder yeares , was neuer gin for loue . Ladie . Young , hote , & lusty bloods seekes thus , their vowed trothes defence : ●old ladies craue for milder profes , of plighted frends pretence . Louer . My deere , if boistrous words offende thy virgins melting brest : Know here what proofe my Lady loues , that likes her louer best Ladie . Experience though it neuer learnd , my greenish yeares to loue : Long since hath taught that tract of time , this trustines doth proue . Louer . Except I sue & serue thee then , while lungs shal lend me breth : Let all the ill that harte can thinke , procure 〈…〉 deth . Ladie . Aske then and haue , as thou deseruest , so looke for thy desire : N● shall my bitter nay denie , if iustly you require . Louer . I care not Ladie for thy coyne , I craue no Iunos golde : Nor Pallas prudence doe I seeke , my Venus loue I wolde . Ladie . Endeuoure thy behests to keepe , thou needes no longer sue : While Lettice liues , Wil shal not wante , if he continue true . Great thanks for this great grace I yeald , & god in heauen thee giue Expence of Nestors yeres on earth , & then in heauen to liue .
Another . AS each man spics a time , his griefe for to bewayle : And doth poure out from baylefull breast , the woes that him annoy : So haue I seuerde out this time in hope for mine auaile . To shew my frende my griuoues panges , and eke my blisfull ioy . The woeful plight which present now , I doe in brest sustaine : The pleasures eke which now are past , I will to minde them call : For too too long in secreate breast , I haue them kepte with paine . With sighes that boyles from out my breast , most bitter like to gall . There was a time when as I set my loue vpon a Lasse , And lente my lyking out to loane to lull my lyking lust : Because she present in mine eye , me thought did all surpasse . But sure within her secrete breast did harboure then no trust . For after we had dwelt awhile , in pleasures sweete delight : And husht our sences both asleepe , as lyk'd oure persons best : Then crept there in this croppe of care , which wrought me this despight . And tooke from me the louing Lasse , and did disturbe our rest . And now doe I appeale to you , take pittie if you may On him that is tormented still , with woes his life that weare : And for thou art a faithfull frende , loe thus of thée I pray , Let not this frowarde happe of mine , my tender heart still feare .
Another . COnsider well I pray , the lines that here I wright : Nought els but dole and dolefull thinges , I profer to thy sight . No cause at all I haue , to write of any ioy : My minde is whelmde in deepe distresse , and tombled in annoy . My serses all doe quake , to thinke vpon my griefe : For to bewaile my woefull happe , that cannot finde reliefe . What fauoure shoulde he haue , whom fortune hath defide : By rigor of the law t is harde , for any to be tride . By Law , why saide I so ? no Law there is I thinke : That barres true louers from their ioyes , but he that stil doth winck And blinking like a bussarde foole , can laugh to see our woes : And nothing for our helpe , will he seeke out the Lord he knowes Oh would it were in me poore soule , the waggish God to tame : If he then wrought vs such despight , in me then were the blame . But why doe I now wish , for thinges which passe my reach ? It were as much for me to craue , fine Tullie for to teach . Good Lady yet geue eare a while , and heare my woefull plaint : Seeke ( I beseech ) to search his wound , whome loue doth sore attaint And do not stil reiect your thrall , when as he doth complain : And think not light the direfull panges , that I for you sustaine . Ten thousand griefes a day I feele , & ten times ten moe woes : And eke a thousande thousande sighes my pensiue harte out throws I liue a thousand times a day , I die ten thousand more : And yet I am as neere of thee , as I haue bene of yore . Let pittie once take place , and moue thy louing minde , That I for all my torments past some fauoure once may finde .
Another . GOod Lordinges geue me leaue a while , to beate my braynes about a toy : The further that I wade therein , the deeper wade I in annoy . The lesse I thinke thereon in sooth , the greater blisse shal happe to me . The fewer times I heare thereof , the happyer man sure shal I be . The lesse in sight the better luck , the furthest of , the most at ease : And yet this is the straungest case , for life I dare it not displease . For life and all thereon depende , what resteth then for to ensue ? My Ladie barres , I may not tell , therefore deare hartes , count you it true . For if I once knew what it mente : her should I haue that me it sent ,
Philomelas fie . FIe flattering face in an vnfaithfull frend , Fie on mischaunce , where neuer was mistrust : Fie fonde desire , that findes dispightfull ende , Fie , fie , that faith should euer proue vniust . Fie frowarde fate , which makes me singing crie : Fie fortune , fie , and falshoode , fie , fie , fie . But fie for shame , this songe yealdes small delight , When euerie note doth runne on fie , fie , fie : Oh waigh the cause , is her accursed spight , Which makes her thus lament her miserie . It is her note so swéete , and not her song , Whereto we loue to listen too so long . So may my note séeme swéete , although my fie , May séeme ( perhaps ) a most vnpleasaunt worde : Although I sing , in harte alas I crie , Fie pleasure fie , I must with this poore byrde , Goe shroude my selfe , as one with sorrow slayne . Till merry May , may make me rise againe . And then this Birde shal come and singe with me , Such heauenlye notes , as may each eare delight : And euery one that doth my sorrow see , Shall curse the cause of my accursed spight . And some al night , shal gladly leaue their nest : To heare recorde , of our vnquyet rest .
Alta peto . THe hautie Larke , that fayne would sit on hye , And yet perforce , long time doth sitte below : Will vp at last , although he gaine thereby To his decay , a deadly ouerthrow . Which makes my harte , that highly would aspire : Séeke how to clime , to height of my desire . To prowle for pence , such gayne yealds simple share , To fight for flies , the conquest were but small : To gaine contente , my minde shal only dare To venture death , in clyming though I fall . But careful hope , must hoyse me vp alofte : Least footing fayle , and then I fall not softe . And when I clime , the trée shal be of life , The fruite of faith , the field the ground of grace : My ladder loue , and care my cutting knife To proyne such sprigges , as may annoy the place , Reason the ground , to stay me from a fall : And hope my holde , to touch the toppe of all .
A Gentleman mislyking of his Mistres , sente her at his departure , these sixe sower lines for a farewell . ALthough you count , your hauen a sea of blisse . I nothing like , to anchore in your fludde : I feare in faith , so sweete the water is , that ouer vse , hath made the bottome mudde : And south to say , I cannot well away , in common cockex , to put my barke in bay . Farewell foule , false , and filthie forger , P. I.
The Mistres of this gentleman , hauing more cause to dislike of him , then he to misleeke of her , requiteth him with these sixe lines following . THe seas you seeme to set so little by , no harbor is for euery rotten barke : Let be the floud , and let the Anchor lie , It flotes not here , you neede not therefore carke . And sooth to say , the bay beares such a grace : vnnethes it likes to harbor ought so base . Farewell fonde , false , fleering , and fantasticall foole . P. M.
Verses out of Borbonius . MArcus Auarus heri cum se suspendere vellet , sexque obulis misero , restis emenda foret : Territus hoc pretio , restim ( inquit ) non emo tanti , quinque obulis tandem , conuenit atque perit . MArke Miser , yesterday I harde the hanging crafte would trie , And vnder three pence caitife wretch , no halter could he by . I buy no roapes so deere ( quoth he ) the price amasde the elfe : For two pence halfepeny he agreede at last , and hangs him selfe .
Le home . THis geare beares pricke and price my girle , of all that ere I sée :
La feme . The pricke for me , sir , I crie first , the price I leaue for thée . Corpus , opes , animam , formam , vim , lumina , scortum , Debilitat , perdit , necat , aufert , eripit , orbat . The bodie , wealth , the minde , fourme , face , and sight , a whore : Doth weaken , leese , kill , race , and steale , and eke depriueth sore .
A Gentlewomans poesie . YOung lust of loue in hoarie lockes : on Ladyes loynes lay lasye knockes . Olde beldames then doe you receaue : the cripple knights young Ladyes leaue .
Aungels . MIne aungels stil they be so fledge , they flie , or els in shippe they floate with puffed sayles : Or with their legges they leape and runne awrie . or driuen away by Dragons with long tayles . Legges , winges , and shippes , the deuill in dragons shins : To beare away mine aungels neuer linnes .
A Riddle . SC●lere vehor , materna carne vescor , quaero patrem meum● Matris meae virum , vxoris meae filium . Foule is my faulte , that feede my fill , and gorge on mothers bowels still . With busie care I seeke my Sire : my mothers husbande I require . And such a one that man must be : as is the sonne of wife to me .
Money still restlesse . GOod money be demourant with me stil , and then thou shalt be pendaunte in my purse : But if thou wilt be volant at thy will , or coorraunte els , thy harbore will be worse . Voussera still incloased in my chest . whereas thou runst abroad sance any rest .
A fantasticall passion . MY vayne is done to write in prose or verse , For why ? I see my wittes beginne to faile : Full faine I would a woefull tale reherse , but sorrow so , my sences doth assaile , That I am forcde , to say and ende in briefe : I cannot wright , I am so full of griefe .
A birde to a birder . A Fowler snarlde a little birde , with lymed bushe of late , To whome for life & libertie , the prettie fowle doth prate She begges her raunsome at a price , and promiseth for pay Three iewels riche , The birder then so biddes her flie away : Escaped thus , now list ( quoth she ) Hereafter holde thine owne : Trust not to much : nor take no care for that which hence is floe● Henceforth if thou applie thy selfe , to rule thee by these three : No little fowle as I , shal make so greate a foole of thee .
The abuse of the worlde . THe mournefull minde , the ouerwhelmed brayne , the wittes bewitchd , that wearyed are with woes : The pensiue harte that pines away in payne , the troubled thoughts whome thousande cares enclose Doth stil I see , consume my carkase so , as nought but death , can ridde me of this woe . Long haue I hoapde , too longe I finde in vaine , and all in vaine it is I finde too late : That pittie woulde procure some ease of payne , but pride is full , pufte vp with deadly hate . Disdaine is growne so great with beauties grace : as humble suites are all thrust out of place . Humilitie is thought a sillie slaue , deserte is deemde a peeuishe painfull drudge : Truth thought deceate , and flatterie no knaue , crafte credite gaines , good dealing may goe trudge . This all too late , to my despight I finde : which makes me thus to waile and mourne in minde
The Author troubled with hope and despaire . TWo thinges there are that trouble much my minde , the one is hope , the other is despaire : In hope , my harte doth heauenly comforte finde , and peeuish dread , my pleasures doth impaire , Hope to good happe , doth geue me vp amayne : Despaire as fast , doth flinge me downe againe . I hope the best and yet doe dread the worst , which wretched dread sayes hope is all in vaine : And hope biddes me account that dread accurst , that lets my helpe , my heauenly wish to game . And hope assures that reason doth require : although despaire deny me my desire . Therefore I hope , although withall I feare : because I hope my hope wil banish dread : Which makes despaire both day and night to beare my tossed braines within my troubled head . This passion straunge , twixt hope and feare I finde : is that which longe , hath much perplext my minde .
The Author troubled with loue and hate . TWo things there are that much torment my mind , the one is loue , the other deadly hate : The force of loue doth make affection blind , and blinde desire doth set my wittes at bate . They beate my braynes to make what meanes they may I finde in fine to worke mine owne decay . I like not loue , againe I loue not hate , yet loue or hate , I needes must take the one : The choice is harde which were the better state , and happy he could let them both alone . For he that knew them both as well as I : woulde lothe his life , and gladly wish to die . Loue ofte breedes hate , whome luckles lots ensue , and foule despight doth sore consume the harte , Which seekes reuenge that honest mindes doe rue , when conscience pricks , doth cause repentant smarte . This for my selfe , as once before I sayde : hath made my minde and senses so dismayde . And yet alas , I cannot choose but loue , yet hate my selfe to see my fonde desire : But cannot get my fancy once remoue , that in my harte hath kindled hatefull fire . But must of force my wretched minde content : to liue in griefe vntill my dayes be spent .
Another . THe longer life the more offence , the more offence , the greater payne : The greater payne , the lesse defence , the lesse defence , the losse of gayne . The losse of gayne , long life doth trie : wherefore come death and let me die . The shorter lyfe , lesse count I finde the lesse accounte , the sooner made : The counte soone made , the merryer minde , the merrier minde , doth thought euade , Shorte life wel spent , the same doth trie : wherefore come death and let me die . Come gentle death the ebbe of care , the ebbe of care , the floud of life : The floud of life , the ioyfull fare , the ioyfull fare , the ende of strife . The ende of strife , for that wish I wherefore come death and let me die .
Another . MIstrust misdeemes amisse , whereby displeasure growes : And time delayde , findes friends afrayde , their faith for to disclose . Suspecte that breedeth thought , and thoughts to sighes conuarte : And sighes haue sought a flood of teares , where sobbes doe soake the harte . This harte that meanes no harme , must féede on sorrowes all : Vntil such time in please the iudge , the truth in question call . Though cause of great mistrust , before the iudge appeare : My truth and mercy of the iudge I trust shal set me cleare . Reporte thus runnes at large , my truth for to detecte : Yet truth in time shal trie it selfe , and driue away suspecte . Beleue not euery speech , nor speake not all you heare : For truth and mercy of the iudge . I trust shal set me cleare .
Another . WHat watch , what woe , what want , what wrack , is due to those that toile the seas : Life led with losse , of paynes no lacke , in stormes to winne much restles ease . A bedlesse boarde at seas in rest : may chaunce to him that chaunceth best . How sundrie sowndes with lead and lines , into the deepe the shipman throwes : No foote to spare he tries ofte times no neare , when hoe , the master blowes . If Neptune frowne all be vndone , straightway the shippe the wracke hath wone . Those dangers great doe ofte befall , on those that shores vpon the sande : Iudge of their liues the best who shall , how vile it is few vnderstande . Alack , who then may iudge the game ? not they which haue not felte the same , But those that saile in storme and winde . and dayes and yeares haue spente therein : Such wel may iudge , since proofe they finde in rage no rest , till calme againe ; No more may those that loue doe fayne : geue iudgement of true louers payne .
Another . ARise o noble Sidney now , and heare the merry Robin singe : The birdes on euery bushe and bough , with warbling make the woods to ringe . Dame Flora fresh in mantle gréene , doth waight vpon a mayden Quéene . And out are gone by breake of day : a worlde of Dames to bring in May . When Phebus shines in loftie skies , and Luna yealdeth vp her light : T is time for waking wittes to rise , and bidde adue the drowsie night . Greate sleepers haue but little health , the wise will walke and vse his skill : The sluggarde wantes both wit and wealth , and liues in néede , and scareslie still . Arise o noble Sidney &c. The labourer findes his feeding sweete , the idle heades haue idle braynes : The slothfull sheepe hath simple sprites , and much desires and litle gaynes . The house but breedes greate cares in brest , the fielde takes toyes from troubled mynde : As griefe and sicknes folow rest so health through laboure must men finde . Arise o noble Sidney &c. As bees seeke hunny out of flowers , and trauailes farre for pleasures sake So man delightes in summer bowers , and for sweete things some toyle must take : For needfull sleepe the bed is good , whilst night be clips the world about : But in the day each lustie blood , on hills or dales are walkinge out . Arise o noble Sidney &c. Since Maye doth come so kindly in , and doth reioyce both man and boy : With mirthe we do this May begin , in hope to end the yeare with ioy . A soldier doth this daybell ringe , who wisheth well to worthy wight , And we poore boyes his farewell singe , to worthy Sidney noble knight . Arise o noble Sidney &c.
A Riddle . A Thinge there is a frende tolde me , that none can feele , nor heare , nor sée : Which bréedeth many deadly smarte and eke with griefe consumes the harte . For which is found none other ease , but one , the cause of the disease . Now this is my desire of thee : to be resolude what this may be .
Answere : THe thinge that breedeth such a griefe , as but by it finde no reliefe , Is straunge , yet not so straunge I trow : but one by studie soone may know . And at a venture this I gesse , T is Loue .
And why smile you . I Smile to see the world so full of toyes , I smile to see that toyes should so delight : I smile to shew by signes such secrete ioyes , as but for shame , would make me laugh outright . To shew such mirth as manners doe conceale : and smiles ( in kinde ) can neuer halfe reueale . But for I see that laughing is too light , and smiling shewes a modest merry minde : I will conceale my secrete sweete delight , saue by a smile you may my fancie finde . Then why I smile , the cause be sure is this : somewhat is well , I say not what it is . I smile to thinke what what , that what may be . I smile agayne at prettie iestes I finde : And now I smile at secrete smiles I see , I smile in signe to shew a merry minde . And so I leaue to write , but not to smile : mirth among friendes may be alone awhile .
And why sigh you ? I Sigh to sée the world so ful of woes , I sigh , to thinke of secret miserie : I sigh , to shew that speach may not disclose , I sigh , and could , and but for shame would crie . That teares might tel such tormentes of the minde : as sighes nor sobbes , can neuer shew in kinde . But for I sée , that women vse to wéepe , and gallante mindes , their secrete griefe conceale : I will awhile , vnséene my sorrowes keepe , least womanlike , I doe my woes reueale . Then why I sigh , the cause , be sure , is this : ( I say not what ) but somewhat is amisse . I sigh to thinke , that somewhat is so much , as that in some , there cannot be much more : I sigh , to thinke my secreat sorrow such , as makes my harte , to sigh and sobbe so sore , And so I leaue to wright , but sighing still : to shew by sighes , that sighing wil me kill .
Plus amour , que la vie . MY chaunce was good , who can say nay ? my happe was hitte that instant time : When I for solace séemde to goe , to garde●●e in the springing prime . Whereas me thought I saw did clime , Faire gallante girles , the one was such As to recount it grieues me much . They climde , but whether ? would you know ? trust me , in truth I cannot tell : Mine eyes were dazeled with the show . of her which I did marke too wel . For why ? of troth , she did excell . And so surpaste the other traine : That they but shadowes seemed plaine . The other three were Venus ioyes , in whome the Goddes tooke delight : She keepes them from all dire annoyes , if they complaine , it makes her spight . She is their Patrones by right . Wherefore in them she sutes her showes : And nothing cares for mine God knowes . But why should I graue at their gaine , Minerua is the patrone deare Which shields my ladie from the paine , that Venus brattes feede for their cheere . These wantons thinke they haue no peere . Till sturdie Mars doth lay the baight : And then they crie Peccaui straight . The glistering glee , which they retayne , the outwarde shewes of Venus ioyes : The curled heare , the faces plaine , the fine proportion of her boyes . My Lady countes them all as toyes . And thinkes that trickes her passing trimme : Out of their waues of woe to swimme . Well since ( my Deare ) thou hast begoon , in Dians sacred fieldes to walke : Where all the vertues still doe woon , and flowers croppe from daintie stalke , There rest thou still , with them to walke . And let me languish still in woe : For that is al I craue , you knowe .
Another . TO vaunte before the conquest gotte , to triumph still fore victorie : Were too too diffamous a blotte , if happe should hit the contrarie . So that I saide , it is the wisliest done : Neuer to vaunte , till victorie be won . And then to vaunte , and double vaunte it too , to triumph then , it were to thee no blame : For so of right thou oughtest then to dooe , because thy foe of right doth beare the shame . Thy triumph then , doth merite nought but this : with Lawrell bowe , for to be crownde I wis . But what deeme you him , worthy for to be ? which triumphes still , before the conquest gotte , If then a iudge you will allow of me , he sure deserues , no whit at all God wot . But as he is , so shifte him to his mates : and let him seeke , for conquest without gates . But pardon me , which meaner conquest seeke , what conquest is t ? would you so fayne it know ? No victor I , the vanquisht is most léeke , to conquere me , as plaine I here will show . So that I counte my selfe already quelde : and meane to yealde before I be compelde . The Dame that hath , my conquering harte put downe , and pulde alow , the stomacke which I bare : With blowes ? no , no , it was done with a frowne , which bréedes to me , the terror of my care . Wherefore I meane , to yealde me to thy grace : some louely lookes , thou wilt extende percace . Then since to you I yealde , as vassal heare , and stande to craue for mercie at your handes Good Ladie then , some pittie let appeare , and lose from me , the lewde and lucklesse bandes . Which bindes me still , to be to you a thrall : ioy when I rise , reioyce not when I fall .
Another . THree new yeares giftes , thrée ladies craude at once , and thrice renewde their treble suite to me : And three times thrice , I wished for the nonce , that I coulde sorte , each Ladie out her fee . As they deserude , so should it alwayes be . which when I heard , then did I cast in minde : Chiefly what giftes for them I best might finde . As gorgets braue , or shadowes for the head ; Or shutes of lawne , or nette that finely showes : their glutted eyes with them be alwayes fed , And for such toyes , they nothing care , God knowes . in meaner thinges their mindes they doe repose . And meanes to take , such giftes as he can giue : whereby the geuer , by the gifte may liue . Gloues say you then , be they the giftes you craue , To kéepe from sunne , the whitenes of your handes : alas ( good soules ) the sunne you faine would haue , As weather serues , and state of yeare now standes to coole your lillie white , you néede no fannes . The nipping frostes , and blustering windes doe show : what like good will you vnto summer owe . That like good will , I would you ought to me , Then like for giftes , I surely you should finde : no gloues it is , that I craue of you thrée , But méere good will , which me to you wil binde . for so be sure , I still doe fixe in minde . Not geuers you , but I will waigh your gifte : Crie not boe peepe , t is but a simple shiste .
Another . IN rage and griefe , against the world I wright , in dole , deepe drencht , in payne perplexed sore : Aliue , as dead I seeme , in each mannes sight , out of the worlde exempted cleane therefore . That out I crie , and crying , stil will say : fie vpon loue , why breedst thou my decay ? Fie vpon loue , why doe I thereof plaine ? nay rather fie vpon my gasing eyes : That such a foile woulde let me to sustaine . of one that doth both me and mine despise . Which makes me crie , and crying , stil will say : th' Italian blood doth breede my dire decay . Th' Italian bloud , fie , fie vpon them all which craftely créepes out of Cresids kinde : They loue to keepe both man and minde in thrall : and in their woes , they ioy stil in their minde , Which makes me cry , and crying still to say : fie Italie , why breedes thou my decay ? Fie Italie , why doe I curse thee so ? nay rather fie vpon too forwarde will : Which sought too soone , to faune vpon my foe , without the guyde of sacred wisdomes skill . Which being spide , she made me straight to say : when you commaunde ( deare Mistres ) I le obay , Obay , but how ? too soone to frowarde minde , which sought me cleane to ouerwhelme in care : She scornde to sée how glad she did me finde , to feede on griefe , which was my daylie fare : For which good deedes of hers , I still will say : fie on thee wretch , why seekst thou my decay ?
A Sonet . WHat should I write ? what should I say ? what should I doe to weepe my fill ? I crouch , I kneele , I still obay , and yet my harte she seekes to spill . So that with griefe I grunt , and groane with care : which dayly is my sustenaunce and fare . My meate is moane , my drinke is dreadfulnes , my solace sower , my musicke nought but woe : My minde is turnde vnto forgetfulnes , and I lie wallowing in my sorrowes so . That in the ende I crie for morning gray and wish for night tenne thousand times a day . Loe thus I liue , and liuing thus , I die , but dying now , I hope to liue againe : For by experience loe , thus much I trie , that dying well , we neuer feele more paine . When I am dead , quite gone , and layd in graue : for me againe , no wisdome t is to craue .
Another . TRie ere thou trust , the prouerbe sayth so true , and trust not thou , before thou wel hast tride : For here to each I wil set downe in view what vile despight was hid ere I it spide In Ladie faire , in whome I tooke delight , who at the length , wrought me this foule despight . I loued her deare , and she did like me well . as then I thought , that better could not be : In wordes , in shew , in speach , loe thus I tell , the faulte was hers , the foyle was mine you see . And I poore soule , ( thus flouted ) wente my way : and she did laugh , that wrought my dire decay . Badde was the best , that fell vnto my share , and worse was hers , if she doe waigh it well : For though to me it bringe some carking care , that her disgraces vilie , I can tell . So that I see , my happe did fall out best : to leaue a blackbirde , cloase within her nest .
Amor altus . COnstrainde by loue , though halfe held back by feare . headlong I runne , into the handes of happe : With minde amasde , I wende I wote not where , seeking no seate , but in dame Venus lappe . But downe proude harte , doe not presume so hie : Least fortune frowne , I fall , and then I die . But liue or die , affection doth enforce the hautie harte to clime , although it fall : Sweete pittie séemes to promise some remorce , and loue will serue , the highest Sainte of all . To seruauntes , fall sometime a happie hire : for due desarte , the somme of their desire . To lie below , and see our ioyes alofte , what minde so base , but venture would a ioynte : What though I slippe , and that I fall not softe , if life yet holde , I doe not care a poynte . For hope of ioyes , will helpe my present payne : harte holde vp head , hand helpe to clime againe . Me thinkes I sée where Dame Diana sittes , and Cupid cryes , holde Hope , and ●lime by care , And Pallas by , who doth instructe my wittes , by humble suite to winne a happie share . And Venus smiles , what should I wishe for more ? vp sure I will , and if I die therefore .
Another Riddle . WHat thing on earth breedes greatest griefe ? Yet lends the heauiest harte reliefe . That is the cause of greatest ioy : Yet thousande wayes doth breede annoy . Both spoyles and saues , sleas and reuiues : Prolonges , and shortens many liues . This thinge is very straunge I trow : Yet I of thee the same would know .
Answere . WHat bréedes delight , yet worketh paine ? That hurteth sore , yet heales againe ? That is the cause of great despight : And yet doth purchase sweete delight ▪ That healeth some of deadly smarte : And strikes some other dead at harte . It should be straunge , what so it is : But sure if I iudge not amisse : T is all one with the same that I Propounded you , T is loue perdie .
Mors mihi vita . COnsumde with cares , and ouerwhelmde with woes I bidde adue , to such as liue in ioy : Contented well , my loathed life to lose , as fortune stil did follow with annoy , For as I féele , my death drawe neare● on : I see the smarte of all my sorrowes gone . Whereby I see sweete death the ende of dole , while life prolonges , the wretched soule in payne : The salue of death makes sickest hartes soone hole , when care is found a comforte all in vaine . Yet dying thus , ere I be throughly dead : accepte this counsaile of a carefull head . Loue not to liue , nor yet desire to die , but liue to die , so dying looke to liue : Such dying life , such liuing death haue I , which makes me thus , the world this comfort giue . To dread no death , but count him for our frend : who bringes vs ioyes , and makes our sorrowes ende .
The Nightingales note . THe Nightingale that singes the sweetest note , of any birde that flyeth in the ayre : Whose choise of sounde with warblings in the throate reuiues the harte that dyeth in despayre . In Aprill first recordes , then sings in Maye : and that m●onth past , she singing goes awaye . Which heauenly note , might hold but halfe the yeare : the ioy thereof woulde cloy our eares with sweete : Nothing so good , so rare , nor yet so deare , but chaunge for worse , the foolish man thinkes meete , So sweete and shorte is Philomelas songe : and nought esteemed , that lasteth once too longe . But yet this songe , that Philomela singes : of sorrow groanes , although the sounde delight Or harde mishappe , wherof such mischiefe springes , she but recordes the sounde of her despight . So with that birde , may I singe fie , fie , fie : while others ioy in song to heare me crie .
Nil nisi probatum . AMonge mishappes , which kill a careful hart , to finde a foe of an assured frend : Is such a griefe , as breedes that deadly smart , which vntill death can neuer take his ende . Oh wretched world , where faith is so vniust : that surest frendes are sometime harde to trust . But all too late I finde the prouerbe true , that frends are founde , as fortune skoules or smiles : But twise accurst that hollow harted crue , whose flattering face , the simple minde begiles . And for my selfe , since frendshippe such I finde : I will accounte of each one in his kinde . Faire wordes shal stande for open flatterie . till faithfull deedes may merite no mistrust : And secreat traynes shal stande for treacherie , till tryall finde her dealinges not vniust , But where I finde the trothe at neede , I crie : with such a friend I vow to liue and die .
The clogge of care . THe clogge of care that hangs on heauie harte , pulles downe the head from loftie mindes delight : The sighes that grow of sorrowes secreat smarte . in time consumes the wretched carcase quight , But comforte yet may cut that clogge away : the cause of dole , whereby delights decay . And then the harte will holde vp head on hie , and ioy as much as it did mourne before : Oh comforte come , and cut of by and by , that cruell clogge , that cuttes my harte so sore . I haue too long , to carefull thoughtes bene tide : my minde cannot the burthen long abide . But all in vaine for comforte stil I crie , my clogge of care is such , I cannot goe : I sée too plaine my dolefull destenie , to waste my dayes , in worlds of carefull woe . Which makes me thus to ende my solemne songe : the carefull harte can neuer holde out longe .
Another . THe Plowman sure are ye , and I the sandie field : Your haruest then must needes be grosse , that such a earth doth shielde . The golde I meane my selfe , the hutch my husbandes harte : The Marte is done , put vp your pipes , goe whistle for your parte . And let me liue at rest , deuoyde of slaunders blotte : Contented with my faithfull feere , whome fortune did alofte . For sure the Letchers loue , comes euer out of time : I meane not to deface my fame , with such a couerte crime . I am no Younckers pray , I skilles am in scapes : I doe detest the doting loue of Roysters , and their rapes . I meane to runne the race of these my poasting dayes : In such a sorte , that none shall check my youthfull wanton wayes . Leaue then to ransacke her , that careth for no chaunge : Ne seeke to false her faulcones faith . with haggarde hauke to raunge .
Vpon two Gentlewomens names . MY fancie led me sodainlie , as I did sitte and sow : Amongst some other secrete thinges , a secrete cause to know . Remembring how the Poets vse Good Gentlewomen to abuse All in their ditties when they chuse Resounding fame to blow . Extolling in their Sonets then The onely prayse of faithfull men , They list not see , how we women Passe them , as I will show . Harke not what Poets prattle then , from reason they declinde : In Platoes Schoole , thou mayst it learne , how frendship is definde . Loue lyketh where is loyaltie , Lyke loyaltie in lyke degree ; In wemen this is chiefe to see , Peruse and you shal finde . So saith he that this frendlines , Only doth springe from humblenes , None barreth women gentlenes , Except they barre their kinde . Perhappes I coulde adioyne to this , where most affection dwels : How there the flower of frendlines , most pleasantly it smels . Enritching womens goodly grace , But here I neede not in this place Experience proueth well this case Aske her I say naught els : Then sith it comes to vs by kinde , Keepe not the secret cause to finde , In Poetrie that is so blinde , No true tale once it tels . Sith loyaltie , affection , and likenes of degree On perfecte proofe , from cradle vp , hath linked thee to me , No treasure riche , nor golden mine Exchaunge shall make at any time For as I was , so am I thine Reposing trust in thee : Enduring so , I doe pretende No chaunge to make till life doe ende , Damon was neuer dearer frende So thou my Pithias be .
A merry conceate . OVr Wilkin now will wedde , the goodlyest girle I gesse That ere this countrey bredde , it is that bounsinge Besse . That euery iacke for ale and cakes , At euery game his Lady makes . He thinkes his Ladie beares the bel : Pore horechit Hob : And she belowtes the mome as well . And there a bobbe . How ere the worlde it wagges , his Besse must needes be braue : Gogs vish these rotten ragges , are vitter vor a zlaue . Then vor my Ladie zweares our Wil: And therewithall he smackes his Gil. And she requites his busse againe , He likes wel that : He payes his Ladie for her paine , That hittes her parte . To beare his flaunting porte , our Wilkin wanteth welth : He shames to yeald the sporte , and therefore seekes by stelth . To maintaine this his iollie ruffe , He stryketh handes with Saunder Snuffe . So forth together they two trigge , To make a hande : The bootie must be very bigge , That they two stande . Our gaffar Simkin solde his vorty sheepe at fayre : And downe the ruddocks tolde are payde him in his chayre . Such payment round is good to tel , He lykes his market very well . Our Wilkin well of this was ware : And geues a gesse That Besse and he shal haue a share Of Simkins messe . The Penyfather Poste , his weson pipe to wette He calleth to his hoste , a halfe perth nale to fette . His ginger from his purse he drawes , And on the cuppe he layes his clawes . Vpon bon viage there he spendes : Three halfe pence flat : On Madge , his mare , and on his frends , That with him sat . And homewarde then he plods , with homely hobbing pace : At euery steppe he noddes , in comely courtlie grace . But sée the luck , amidde the way Comes Wil , and biddes vaer Simkin stay . A yellow Iaundize their he saide : In Simkins purse : Which if it be not quickly staide . Will hurte them wurse . Thy purse ( quoth Will ) doth surge , var Sim , an inche to low : The perfecte pilles to purge , my mates and I doe know . My selfe ( says Will ) will be thy léeche , Wherewith his purse slides to my bréeche , Olde Graybeard now may wipe his nose : His golde is fludge : To Birchin Lane for silken hose , Doth Wilkin trudge . While R●ddockes yours be rife , our Girle must haue her parte : Els there beginnes the strife , twixt Besse , and her swéete harte . A kerchiefe now , atawdrie lace , A hatte to hide her whorish face . The arrante woman spyes her time , You may be bolde : The stammell will be soulde for fine Crusado golde . The pence are easly spent , that rowle so easly in : How he that list forrent , will feare thee not a pin . Tenne hundred shiftes yet may be made A thousande craftes yet will be ●ad . Will and his girle will to the wine , to tipple square : While chinkes holde out they may be sure Away the mare . At boorde to her he drinkes , and turnes it on the thumme : The wilie wench she winkes , with nere a worde but mumme . With beckes and deckes his girle he wooes , With neckes and checks she doth re●use , A worlde to see our woing Will . Alonge the streete : How he doth square it with his Gill , When they two meete . The Cutter roystes it out , with tospotte swearing cappe : As sturdie and as stoute , as is the mouse in trappe . And for his Ladie will he fight , As longe as no man is in sight . The Duckerell Darcies blow hath gotte : Oerthwarte the shankes : His prettie Parnell spareth not , To play her pranckes . A whelpe of a good heare , she comes of gentle kinde : An easie beast to beare , well spaste , and sure behinde ▪ She neuer flinges , but forwarde still , The restie ●ade hath nere her fill . Of such a towarde twigge the fruite Is rotten rype : The youthes will daunce with little suite T● euery pipe . A couple fitly mette , a brace of 〈◊〉 birdes : Ere they at worke will swette , their heare shall through their hodes . Such scapeth 〈◊〉 litely fell their ware , And make their Matte with Palmers mare . If chaunce they twiste not all one thread : They haue good happe : At laste I charge them begge their bread With dishe and ●lappe .
A Sonette made by Thomas Howell . I Wish and craue the thinge that workes my woe , I see the snare , yet haue no power to shunne : I holde for frende , whom aye I helde for foe , In flying fire , vpon the flame I runne . I pine in paine , when hist , no pleasure past , In séeking heauen , I lie in Kimbo lake : In blisfull bathe , most bitter bane ▪ I taste . And for the Eele , I grieping graspe the Snake . The marke I seeke , I see doth passe my reache , Yet still I pricke , and prease , t'achieue the same : Desire condemnes what wisdome would me teach . And follie faunes on griefe in steade of game . What vayleth it the irkesome hooke to spie , That lurking lyes in sweete and pleasant baite . When power doth wante , the force thereof to flie . In baine is seene the hurtefull 〈◊〉 deceite , Right thus in pleasures pathe 〈◊〉 pryson finde , Yet headlonge foorth doth haste and holde the way : When Reason me , to r●le doth put in minde , My fancie sayth goe on , and make no stay .
A. N. his answeare to the same . LEaue of to wish the thinge that workes thy woe , And thou shalt shunne the snare that thou doest sée : Holde him no fr●nde whom the● doest finde a foe , So thou from 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 shalt still be free . Paine is a griefe , 〈…〉 pleasures gaines : And Limbo● 〈…〉 sought out ▪ So 〈…〉 Gripe Snake for 〈◊〉 and she will 〈◊〉 no dout . He is oreboulde , that 〈◊〉 without his reach , Though still he prickes , 〈…〉 neuer hope him in : Drowne the desire , so shall thee wisdome teach , That follie faunes , where griefes the game begin . It vayleth much the irkesome hooke to spie , That lurking lies , in swéete and pleasaunte 〈◊〉 ▪ Witte will wante force , where wisdome , wantes to flie , That els in vayne is seene the hidde deceite . In pleasante pathe , no pleasure is to finde , Though headlong forth thou haste , and holde thy way ▪ When reason rules put wisdome in thy minde , Let Fancie say ; got on and make no stay ▪
The discommodities of marriage . SIthe doubtes 〈…〉 Best hold● 〈…〉 still alone , For though you haue 〈…〉 : The prayse of a mayden , as plaine did appeare . I will none by saint Mary , you make me to sweare : The charge is too costly , the ware is to deare . I aunswere to you Sir , euen after the rate : That presently payned your selfe for to prate . To praise the stale widdow , with all her whole state , Be she olde , be she young Sir , I like no such mate . But I will contente me , as I did before : To loue , and to looke to my selfe and no more , For if that I marrye , I must looke for a store : And toyle and trudge for it , till my boanes be all sore . If I purpose to marry these chaunces ensue : I must get her apparrelle , and that must be new Least shortly I proue the Prouerbe be true . You are welcome , be gone Sir , I am not for you . I must woo her , and winne her with siluer and golde : And other such iewels , as are to be solde . And yet she is ready for euery 〈◊〉 ●olde : To leaue and forsake me to let flie her holde . I must geue her a purse , and eke a pin●ase : A whistle , a tablet , a tawdrie lace . A thimble of siluer , to couer her face : And all to obtaine her fauoure and grace . I must daunce her attendaunce by day and by night : Be pleasaunt and painefull , all day in her sight . And yet peraduenture , and that s too much spight : I shall gape for a Gudgin , and fishe for a Snight . If I chaunce to obtaine her after this wise : Then double and ●reable , my costes will arise . I must then apparrelle her after the guise : And finde her such trinckets , as she can deuise . To housholde , we must haue a hen and a cocke : A distaffe , a spindle , a wheele , and a rocke . A cassocke , a 〈◊〉 , a gowne and a smocke . And for our Dames 〈◊〉 a key and a locke . A bedde , and a 〈◊〉 , and other such 〈◊〉 ▪ A fillet , a paste , a combe , and a glasse . A potte , and a panne , with vessels , and brasse : And twentie such toyes , which here I let passe . And yet it doth chaunce most commonly after : God sendes vs a childe , a boy or a daughter . Then must I prouide , who so euer begate her : Some ragges and some iagges , to folde and to wrap her . A Nurse , and a midwife to holde vp her backe : Some spyces , to make her a posset of sacke , And other such trinkets as these young wiues doe lack : Which if that they haue not , our loue goes to wracke . A cradle , a swathbande , a pillow of downe : A wastecote , a biggin , to wrappe the childes crowne . A wenche for to rocke it , with downe a downe , downe . Or els t is time for me , to packe out a towne . A possenette , and sugar , to make the childe pappe : A blancket of woollen , the childe for to wrappe . If this be not gotten , such fortune may happe : At her first vprysing I beare her a clappe . If I marrye a widdow , you bid me not care , She bringeth all this geare , and other such ware . Your stocke and your treasure , thereby you may spare : Enritching your substance , to maintaine your fare . But yet Sir , I pray you , remember well this : Not one shrow of twentie , among them there is . Whose children and kinsfolke , at any time misse To prowle or conuay away , that thinge or this . Now hath she a daughter , now hath she a sonne : Now hath she a Cosin the worlde hath begon . I must geue them a ladle , a dishe and a spoone : Which if I deny them , our frendshippe is done . And then Sir , withall , she will clothe her in yelowes : And ●uming and ●●etting , she beginnes to be ielious . With scoulding and brawling , she lets not to tell vs : At stues and at tauerns , als spent on good fellowes . She sumes and she frettes , she fomes like a bore : She sweares she was neuer thus vsed before . Ere this time I might haue bestowed my store : To geue at my pleasure a little or more . If I 〈◊〉 you say Sir , she makes me good cheare , With caudels and possettes , and good double beere , For money at all times I can buy this geare , What neede I to keepe then , a wise all the yeare . What neede I to finde one meate , drinke and array , To keepe one at liuerie by night and by day . For when I would dallie with sporte and with play , I can meete with a sweeting , a snatch and away . If once I doe marrie , and take me a wyfe , To brauling and scoulding I am bounde all my lyfe , To ●aunting and vaunting , to discorde and stryfe , The practise of this thinge , is commonlie ryfe . I am bounde for to tarrie for her still at home , To toyle and to moyle for her all alone , Whilest she sittes a feasting with olde mother Ione , I must be a drudging for her like a mome . All these thinges , with other that I coulde resight , From wooing and wiuing driue me away quight , And I will bestow my sweetest delight , With sweete sleepe to passe out the longe drowsie night . These maydes be so wanton , these widdowes so wood , That neither of both will doe me any good . These widdowes be withered , they drinke vp my blood , These maydes be so lustie , I le none by the roode . And therefore I will , till you agree on the one : Thus holde me contented to liue still alone .
The commendation of hope . WHo hopeth much and feareth nought at all , doth shew him selfe too desperate of minde : Who feareth much , and hath his hope but small , in such conceate , can little comforte finde . Who stammering standes , halfe hoping , halfe in dread : assure him selfe , shall haue a troubled head . Who hopes for nought , nor feareth ought at all , is rather madde , or not of humaine kinde : Who ●lymes by hope , and feareth euery fall , doth doubtles beare , a most vnquyet minde . Who dreads the worst , and al wayes hopes the best : what euer happe , is euer best at rest . But he that hopes , vpon so sure a ground , as sets the spight of foule despaire aparte : And to his hope , such heauenly happe hath found , as yealdes the thing , that most contents his harte . Let him not boast , but geue God thankes for all : who helpte him vp , and sau'de him from a fall . For he it is that helpes the honest harte , that geues the hope that neuer needes to feare : Which findes a salue to euery sodaine smarte . and keepes the minde in quyet euery where In him alone , mine only hope shal rest : this life once lefte , in heauen to liue at rest .
A warning to wanton Louers . CEase sorrowe now , for thou hast done the deede , for care hath now , consumde my carcase quight : No hope , no help , nor hap can stande in steed for dolefull dayes doth cut of all delight . Yet while I heare the toling of the bell , before I die , I wright this fainte farewell . Who loues to leade his life in quyet rest , beware the worst , of what so may befall : Abandone Loue , feede not on fancies feast , least hungrie harte , in vaine for comforte call . And sorrow then , doe so assaile thy minde : the witte bewitchd , a worlde of woes doe finde . And then comes care for to tormente my harte , when nought auayles to languish or lament : For longe the harte , doth pine in secreat smarte , before the dayes be quight in sorrow spent . This finde I true , and for good will I tell : ware wanton loue , and so I say farewell .
A fancie . I Woulde , yet will not , yes , yes , no , no ? why , for that my will and woulde , doe disagrée : For why ? to worke my would contentedly , my wish to will doth wante too farre I sée . Which makes me thus against my will to say : I woulde , yet nill , but will when so I may . I may ? why now I may , yet may I not , for that my may is not such as I woulde : Yet what I may , full fayne I would God wotte , and more would wishe , if so be that I coulde . Which more might I , then would I quickly say I woulde , and will , and glad in that I may , But oh , that will his wish cannot attaine , and that delight , should so desire denie : That willing hartes , should labour all in vaine , when will and wordes , doe méete so contrarie . Yet what of this , I hope to sée the day : when that my woulde may finde a willing may .
A farewell to Fancie . FAncie farewell , that wroughtst my fonde delight , delight adue , that wroughtst my deepe distresse : Distresse adue , that wroughtst my déepe despight , Despight adue , for death doth lende redresse . And death adue , for though I thus be slaine : in thy despight , I hope to liue againe . Faire Dames adue , whose loue hath wrought my woe , and farewel woe ▪ that wearyed hath my wittes : And farewell witte , with will bewitched so , and farewell will , so full of franticke ●ittes . Fransie farewell , whose sorce I feele too sore , and farewell feeling , for I féele no more . And life adue , that I haue lou'de and loathd , and farewell loue , that makes me lothe my life ▪ Both loue and 〈◊〉 farewell vnto you both , twixt hope and feare , farewell all foolish strife . Follie farewell , which I haue fancyed so : and farewell fancie , that first wroughtst my woe . Adue desire , for death is harde at hande , and yet againe , I say adue to death : Though loathed life doe in deathes daunger stande , yet faith assures , when bodie loseth breath , The soule in heauen shall liue , and fare right wel : which makes me crie , come death , and life farewel . Both frendes and foes , vnto you all farewell , farewell my frendes , for frendshippe I haue found Farewell my foes , that truth in time may tell , when that ●y bones be buryed in the ground . That with the worlde , I die in charitie : and so adue , the bell hath done , I die . And yet once more to death agayne adue , for dying thus , me thinkes , I liue againe : My certayne hope showes ioyes that do ensue , and hart findes ease of former pinching payne . Which makes me thus by certayne proufe to tell faithe feares no death , I dying , liue , farewell .
Counsaile geuen to a frend . WHen gallant youthe hath gone a while at will , and folowed that which fancie doth affecte : And sées in tyme by proufe of sacred skill , What wisdome would that reason should respect . He then returnes from former vanytie , and treades the pathe to true felicitie . When witte doth waye the wanton toyes of will , and will doth yéelde to folow wittes aduice : And willing witte doth learne by wisdomes skil , of perfecte good to knowe the passing price . Then worldly toyes are all had in despight , and Heauenly ioyes are all the hartes delight . When fancie leaues to follow fonde desire , and wisdome doth dame fortunes force defie And nature doth but reasones will require , and conscience will conceale no trecherie . Then if my mynde do not mistake his markes , the skye will fall , and we shall want no larkes .
The secrete sute of a louer . NOt what I woulde , yet would I what I wright , not what I meane , yet meane I what I saye : Not what I mought , yet would I what I might , not what I can , yet will I what I may . My spéeche is darke , but you perceyue much light , then marke my wordes , and gesse my meaning right . For this you know , my tonge so fast is tyde , as for my lyfe I cannot yet speake playne : Yet do I seeke to haue my mynde descride , therby to speake , some libertie to gayne . For if my tonge might tell my tale in kynde , my harte would hope to haue some ease of mynde . But oh harde happe , my hope his helpe denyes : and hope halfe past dispaire doth drowne my mynde : Yet reason showes , that thou in deede art wise , and ruth reportes that I shall fauour find , Which makes me thus in midst of my distresse , in secrete sorte to sue for some redresse .
Of sweet contentes . WHat a●le I wretch ? or whereto was I borne ? what meanes my mynd my fancie so to set ? The greatest iemmes I seme to haue in scorne , and daylie séeke the thinge I cannot get . The reason is , I seeke a thinge to craue , which will would wishe , but hope can neuer haue . What , is it welth ? no , many rich I see , as many seeke but few or none can haue : Bewtie ? oh no , faire ladies many be , and t is I saye no common thinge I craue . What , is it loue ? tushe loue is but a toye , yet faithfull loue is sure a heauenly ioy . And therefore Loue I cannot choose but léeke , but lyking lookes , and lacke breedes discontent , And they shal finde , that doe such sorrowe seeke , that lothed lacke doth luckles loue lamente . What is it then whereof I am so faine ? oh t is contente I seeke , but cannot gaine . Oh sweete contente , what one doth thée enioy ? who liues contente ? alas I least of all : Content doth breede delight without annoy , contente mislykes no fortune that can fall . Contente is that , which few or none can finde : yet must I seeke to set at rest my minde .
One that had made his full choise . MY foolish dayes , and wanton lustes be past , in vayne you seeke 〈◊〉 me againe : Let be your toyes , my thoughts are fixed fast , Citheria should her selfe but lose her paine . Remember not to me wonted delight , each sweete so past , is now but bitter gall : Darcknes I 〈◊〉 that earst I counted light , my reason is redéemde from fancies thrall . Applie your selues to set some other snare , perhaps ye may speede better if ye doe : Such woodcockes many in the worlde there are , that will be caught , I am no pray for you . One hath me fast , already hers am I : Ne will I be anothers till I die .
A Countrey Carrolle , translated out of Belaye . A Crowne for Ceres wil I make , of euerie kinde of corne : With garlandes made of fai●e 〈◊〉 boughes , I Bacchus will adorne . Two pottes of milke to Pales , laste I purpose to present : That they may heare my humble suite , and to my will a●ente . That Ceres may enforce the ground , a plenteous croppe to yeald : That Bacchus may the clustred grapes well prosper in the field . That Pales so her mantle spread , vpon the pleasaunt soyle : That grasse and holesome h●rbes may grow to quite my painfull toyle .
The same in another sorte . WIth fragrante flowers , with eares of corne , with leaues that largely grow : On euery vine lets garlands make , our thankefull mindes to show . To Pales , Ceres , sacred dames , and Bacchus last of all : Who all our meddowes , fields , and grounds , when we for grace did call , With grasse , with graine , and grapes so filde , as they did déeme it best : We fearde no heate , no hayle no colde , for they our labour blest . From all that might the grasse , the eare , or tender braunche offende . The cattle , birdes , or greedie goate , that from the hilles descend . In summer season in the springe , or Authume did not spoile : The grasse , the eare , the sprouting budde , but fedde on others soile . Let mowiers then make merry now , let Reapers all reioyce : Let vintners vaunte of their good happe , and all exalte their voice . To praise the meddowes , fieldes , and ground , that gaue so greate increase : And laude their name that wrought this worke , els will their goodnes cease . Barnes , garners , sellers , so are heapte , with hay , with corne and wine : That neuer earst the like was see●e . with any mortall eyine .
An Epigram out of the same Author . THough false Aeneas now be dead , & Dido laid in graue yet others lefte they in their stead , that like conditions haue . Who with the show of marriage rites , which is a holy thing : do hide their fleshly fonde delights , that follie forth doth bring
Verses translated out of the foresaide Poet. WIth loue , with grace , and perfect worthines , the powers diuine were compassed rounde about The skie was clad and cloathd in comely sorte , with burning rayes of happye heauenly hew : All thinges were full of beutie and of blisse , the sea was calme , the winde was meeke and milde . When here below the Paragon was borne , whose faire white skinne exceedes the Lillie farre , Whose haire like golde doth glister in the sunne : whose lippes doe staine the perfecte crimson die . From Phebus beames her shining eyes tooke shape , within her brest , the heauens themselues haue sowen . And through the Gods , her name immortal bides .
Another . THe happy braunch to Pallas consecrate . the braunche of peace doth beare the name of her Who reaues my sence , and in her beutie shrowdes such crueltie as most to Mars belongs . Leaue then ( thou wilfull Dame ) leaue of I say this louely name , or shew thy selfe the like , That as thou doest , in a●l immortal seeme , thy name may séeme ordainde by destinie , What from the heauens , hath been bestowed on thee . is nothing straunge nor wonderfull to me . Since thou in minde and harte arte Soueraigne , and that thine eyes from those that gaze on thée Their bodie , harte , minde , sense , and soule doth steale .
Another . THe selfe same night wherein the powers diuine From highest heauens behelde the earth below , Loue bente his how to pearce my painful brest : And made me subiecte to his Dietie , The sacred place , from such great crueltie , Nor yet the time it selfe could me redeeme . This stroake to harte , did from her eyes descende , Whilest I too much her glorious face behelde , I thought at first that Loue had leueled , At both alike , and that one onely bonde Had equally together ioyned vs both : But Loue ; as blinde , and ill aduisde therein , Hath let her goe that was the greatest pray , Detayning me that 〈◊〉 of least accounte .
Another . AS none may well with fixed eye beholde The glistering beames of Phebus golden rayes : So to suruey thy 〈◊〉 passing 〈◊〉 Woulde bleare the eyes , and dimm● the clearest sight . And he that shall with fixed eye 〈◊〉 , Thy glorious face ; so shining as it ●oth , Shall finde such ●l●arenes will increase his payne , And take front him the vse of séeing quite : How can my tongue or 〈◊〉 be able then , To painte thy praise , or yealde thy due desarte , That haue no power thy beautie to beholde . Which if mine eyes were able to attaine , I would p●esume to passe the noble birde , That vnto Ioue is iustly consecrate .
My loue shall last . THe Soldyars wish drawes on with warres delight , the Pilgrimes sporte lyes in his present payne : Shippes 〈◊〉 the porte , and seekes for seas in sight , and I to smile in loue , account it gay●e . Whom while I serue : wish , sporte , and seas I finde : with gallante warre , with sporte , sea roome , and winde Sith now this happe is had , I ioy to singe , what kinde of sea , what mates , what ship was there : How happie chaunce , by lotte rulde euery thing , the maine saile truth , each waue a frendly teare . The master , Loue him selfe , sweete sighes the winde : ioyes roade with Oares , the ship a merry minde . Fast hope at helme , did winde the boate aboute , and fixed faith stoode vp for middle maste : The cable hope , which seruant twinde throughout , helde gladsome glee , with picked anchore faste , Beautie discride the rockes , till I was past : and now beloude , I sweare my loue shall laste .
My loue is paste . THe soldior worne with warres , delightes in peace , the Pilgrime in his ease , when toyles are past : The ship to gaine the porte , when stormes doe cease , and I to smile , now voide of loue at last . Whome while I serude , peace , rest , and loue I lost : with greeuesome warre , with toile , with seas betost . But now the brunte is past , I ioy to singe , what kinde of sea , what slaues , what ship was there : How foolish chaunce , by lotte rulde euery thing , how error was maine saile , each waue a teare . The master , Loue himselfe , deepe sighes the winde : cares roade with vowes , the ship vnmerry minde . False hope at helme , ofte turnde the boate about , and fickle faith stoode vp for middle maste : Despaire the cable twisted rounde with dout , helde grieping griefe the picked anchoare fast . Beautie was all the rockes , but I at last : am now twise free , and all my loue is past .
Loue for vertue , of longest continuance . THe chiefest care we ought to haue , is to adorne the minde : With beautie such as best beséemes and most accordes with kinde . Of greater force this beautie is , a Ladies loue to gaine : Then that which foolish folke commends , and wise men count but vaine , The loue of vertue lastes for aye , which choice no chaunce can chaunge : But loue for luste , time turnes to nought , and quickly makes it straunge . When crooked age doth once creepe in , braue beautie bids adue : And then those fondlinges all too late , their former follies rue . But vertue bides in perfecte plight : and to the vertuous bringes delight .
Loues Epitath . HEre lyes blinde Loue , here lyes the bedlem boy : here lyes the God , that all the Gods did feare : Here lyes intoumbde , Cithenas greatest ioy , here lyes the bow , that Loue was wonte to beare . Here lie the shaftes , here lie the piercing dartes : wherewith erewhile , he tamde the stoutest hartes . Now is he dead , now can he doe no more , no signe appeares that he shall liue againe : To plague poore soules as he hath done before , and pinch their harts with straunge tormenting pain Now is he dead , and who the cause but she , whose blasing beames , blinde all the worlde I see . Ofte did he proone and all to none effecte , to force his fire to fasten in her brest ▪ Her frozen harte did still his flame reiecte , and made him muse to see his power supprest . Deceaued so , he knew not what to say : ne coulde he iudge , the cause of his decay . To proue his fire , if it had force or no , vnto his winges he put the burning brande , The fire tooke holde ( for needes it must doe so ) then he too late ( poore soule ) did vnderstande His fonde conceate , and filde the aire with cries : no plaintes preuailde , he died , and here he lyes . At latter gaspe a grieuous sighe he gaue , and saide , farewell ye faithfull Louers all : Now proofe shewes plaine , what grieuous pangs ye haue what force my fire , what power to make you thrall . I finde it now , that felt● it not before : but be contente , it shall offende no more . If former faultes did merite worthy blame , the blame is greate , I haue incurde thereby : My life must pay my raunsome now with shame , A shamefull death , I am at poynte to die . My glorie gone , my b●anes consumde to dust : you haue your will , abide it needes I must .
In commendation of his Mistresse . I Smile to thinke how fonde conceite . deceaues the finest wittes : To féede them with a daintie baite , that choakes them all by bittes . How fondly some commende the face , and some the smoothie skinne : And some preferre in highest place , the tender doubled chinne . What should I stande to recken vp , their trashe and trumpery : That drinkes the dregges of euery cuppe , and praise it to the skie . Let such goe bragge them in the crew , of baser minded swaines : They neuer came yet where it grow , nor paide more then their paines . But if my Mistres woulde vouchsafe , her beautie to discouer : Then iustly might they frette and chafe , that so they past her ouer . He that triumphes in sweetest blis , I know then would repine : No man that saw her , but would wishe oh that she would be mine . But yet content ye with your choise , subscribe ye to my saint : Whose worthy praise no siluer voice , nor penne can fully painte ,
Lenuoy . Let it suffice I liue to proue it here : In all respectes she neuer had her peere .
The despairing Louer . TO painte the passions of a payned harte , or shew the panges that foolish loue constraines . When honest meaning lackes his due desarte , the onely meane to purchase greater paines . Alas I rue , because my reason failes . whilest fonde desire , settes vp her swiftest sailes . Too swifte in deede , to passe the daungerous seas , such daungerous seas , as can be hardly paste : Yet past all helpe , and hope to purchase ease , amidst the waues my ●rased barke I caste . And cast the best , although I count it vaine : till fates accorde to sende reliefe againe .
A sorrowfull Sonette . IF to the life that euer lastes , this life a moment be : If time consume our youthfull yeares , which we no more shall sée . If euery thinge that beareth breath , doe waste and weare to nought : Why dreamest thou in prisoned spright ? why doest thou take such thought . Why doest thou so detest the day ? and wishe the darcksome night . If to a safer place thou seeke , to take thy speedie flight . There is the good that euery soule ought chieflie to desire : There is the rest whereto eachone , woulde willingly aspire . There loue doth lie , there pleasure dwels , there , there my soule I say Amidst the highest heauens thou maist the image well suruay Of her whose beautie here on earth . I haue adornde from time of birth .
The hurte that groweth by golde . SOme say the golden worlde is gone , but I suppose not so : Now raignes the glistering golden age , that greatly workes our woe . For golde is now the God on earth , now golde doth gouerne all : Golde makes and marres , if golde we wante , in vaine for grace we call . Golde geues and takes from kinges their crownes , golde maintaines blooddie warre : Golde bringes the greatest to theire graues , and breedeth many a iarre . Golde geues the iacke a gentils name , and gaines him great account : No faulte so foule , but golde afoordes , golde makes the meanest mounte . Golde is the cause of all our care , since first this golde was founde : No faith nor frendshippe hath beene seene but fraude did most abounde . Oh , wretched golde , would God thy name , had neuer here beene knowen : Then shoulde we not haue knowen the harme , that by thy name hath growen . He should I now haue cause to say so greatly to my griefe : That wante of thee , to winne good will , doth make me wante reliefe .
The passions of a Louer . MY Mistres eyes augment my kindled flame , her golden lockes haue caught my captiue hart , Her hurtfull hand , my haples fall doth frame . her wordes bewitch my minde , and breede my smarte . Her glistering eyes disgrace the brightest starre , her crisped heare surmounts the glorious sunne : Her handes in whitenes , passe the Iuorie farre her wittie wordes immortall fame hath woon . Her louely eyes doe much amase my minde , her golden lockes ( alas ) doe linke me fast : Beholde my state , beholde what happe I finde , no other ioy my pyning ghoast could tast . Since cruel Loue , within my breast did shrine : her eyes , her heare , her handes , her speach diuine .
The follie of Loue . ALas I see no hope is lefte at all , by seruing thee , to set my harte at rest : Yet from this follie can I neuer fall , nor leaue thy loue , that likes my fancie best . I am my selfe , mine owne and onlie foe , I see the pitte , and plunge my selfe therein , And though the meanes be founde to ease my woe : foole that I am , I seeke no ease to winne . Though nothing happe , that may my hope aduaunce , from seruing thée yet can I not refraine : No not though death , or worse , if worse might chaunce , this is the good , that I by lot doe gaine . I see the best , and know the worst aswell : yet seeke the worst , and bidde the best farewell .
To his vnconstant frend . ROsetta retchlesse Dame , since thou hast chaungde thy minde : And in my absence to thy shame , hast shewde thy selfe vnkinde . I haue ( as well I might ) withdrawne my fonde desire : From fancying one that is so light , to make such quicke retire . Henceforth for beauties blaze , where no deserte is founde : I will not set my selfe to gaze , so great good will to ground . This warning may suffice , to make me wise at last : Els greater daungers will arise , then those alreadie past . But tell when thou hast tride , what good thou gaynste thereby : Thou wast the first that gan to slide , thy falshode made me flie . Whilest I with store of teares , did waile the wante of thee : Thou toauest abroad with ruffeled heare , and hadst no minde of me . Forgetting my good will thou gauest thy selfe in charge To such as sought to spoyle thee still , and leftst thy Loue at large . As wauering as the winde , that alters euery hower : So wauering is thy wandring minde , whereof thou hast no power , But tell &c. Where are thy solemne vowes , at parting made to me ? Where are the teares with bended browes , that then these eyes did see ? Would any man suppose , such plaints should passe in vaine ? From one that onely loues to glose , and glorie in her gaine . O false periured wight , accursed shall he be That in thy doinges takes delight , or puttes his trust in thee . But tell &c. The man that holdes my place , and pleades to please the best : For all his faire dissembling face , may loue thée with the least . But she whom now I serue , and honor with my harte : Aboue all dames doth best deserue , so prisde by due desarte . Kéepe thou thy new come frende , for I will stick to mine : We loue , and when our likes shal ende . one toumbe our bones shall shrine . But tell when thou hast tried , what good thou gainst thereby : Thou wast the first that gan to slide , thy falsehoode made me flie .
The Louer ouercome with sorrow ▪ desireth death . THe more my knowledge growes , the more my power decayes : To all mishappes my haples life , is prone at all assayes . My secrete flame augmentes , amidst my floode of teares : Before one griefe be fully gone , another straight appeares . Both night and day my thoughtes , are chieflie on my graue : In darcknes is my most delight , no mirth my minde can haue . The day dislykes me much , the ceaseles griefes I taste : At night when all things els take rest , my woefull harte doth waste . I neuer cease to weepe , and yet I know not why : In this vnconstant wauering worlde ▪ no trueth at all I trie . A monstrous sea it is , of sorrow , griefe , and payne : Yet no where els can I finde meanes how I may comforte gayne . Come therefore gentle death , cutte of my line of life : That by such death , a thousande deathes , may cease this secrete strife ▪
A Lady lamenteth the death of her louer . WHy is my crased corps so strong against my wil ? that all the griefes I feele , cannot consume me quite Who holdes my wretched soule , whereas it likes so ill , And will not let it passe to place of more delite . Alas since louely Loue , did by his power diuine , Drawe both our hartes to him , and make them al as one , Why haue the heauens denide ? why doe they not incline ? To make our deathes alike , for other men to mone . The worthy Amphihons wife , whose hart was heapt with grief To sée her children slaine , became a senseles stone . And in that shape as yet , shedes teares without reliefe . But by my will this lotte should not be hers alone . My selfe woulde be the like , if safely so I might Be sure to shrine his bones , whose life was my delight .
A Louer , whose constante minde nothing coulde alter . THe proude disdaynes of her vnskilfull age , that scoffes at Loue , and scornes his Dietie : The fonde desires that doe my minde inrage : and heape my harte with all impyetie . My death then in her forhead fixte I finde , my sillie vessell prest to passe away : With broaken maste , torne sayle , and stormie winde : the grieuous cares that threaten my decay . The quenchlesse fire that boyleth in my brest , the little care she hath to caue my rest , The cureles griefe her absence bringes to me , all this ( though great ) yet can it not remoue : My stedfast minde that ioyes in nought I sée , saue in her life that lothes my stedfast loue . And makes her mirth , to sée me so distrest : the louing minde turnes al thinges to the best .
A Dialogue betweene a forsaken louer and diuers Shepheards . TEll me gentle shepheards , tell me I pray , as you desire the Driades good grace : And seeke to haue God Pan your frend alway , haue ye not seene of late passe by this place A lustie youncker with a gallante Dame . Shepheards . We saw such two , they poasted hence apace . Louer . How blest are ye that beare a shepheards name , no vaine desires may your delightes deface . The force of loue , ye feare it not at all , his piersing dartes , doe seldome breede your paine . Shepheards . Sildome indeede , such happes doe vs befall , as cause requires , no constante course we make . Louer . They follow you , from whom your flight you make , she flies from me , and seekes my bloud to spill . Whom I pursue and honor with my harte : she lothes my loue , I lacke my due desarte .
A Louer that had his Mistresse alwayes presente with him by coniecture . A Shaddow thou , pursuest me euery where , walke where I will , I haue thee still in sight : If in the fieldes I raunge , I finde thee there , if in the towne , thou guydest my passage right . Awake , asléepe , by sea , or els by lande , where so I bide , thy shadow shrowde I still Within my breast , that at thy mercy stande , and as thy slaue committe me to thy will , But what saide I ? a shadow , see my witte , vnseemely , is the smile I seeme to make : To matche the white with blacke , were farre vnfitte , yet such a match I fondly vndertake . A shapeles thinge , a shaddowe is we see , thou feately framde , well formde in euery parte : A shadow foule , and fraile as fraile may be , thou faire , and firme , so déemde by due desarte . In thy swéete face , the perfecte markes I finde : of such good giftes , as guide thy modest minde .
The Louer to his eyes . TOo soone ( mine eyes ) you did performe your parte , too soone in deede , before my minde was armde : Or had the skill to fence my féeble harte , my feeble harte , that fancies ●orte hath harmde . Extreame and straunge , not able to be bidde , so are my griefes , such as no tongue can tell , I seeke , but sée they cannot well be hidde , nor quite supprest , so deepe in me they dwell . Greate are my thoughtes , the greater is my griefe , on sandie soyle , I builde my fading bower : No helpe I haue , nor hope to finde reliefe , such thinges I séeke , as farre excéede my power , One is there yet ▪ may salue this secrete sore : none els but she that gaue the hurte before .
One in aduersitie , comforteth him selfe with the hope of Gods mercie . WEll may I waile my fate , since fortune is my foe : Who bendes her force against my Forte , and seekes to bréede my woe . Her battery is so stronge , so boystrous are her blowes : That al my strength can scarce withstande , the rigor that she showes . The rampires that I rayse , come tombling to the grounde : My strongest bulwarkes battered sore , doth all my force confound . The roaring cannon shotte , comes whirling by mine eares : And where it hittes it hurteth much , whole houses downe it beares , Enuironde as it were , with troupes of warlike wightes : My soldiors dare not sally out , to séeke their chiefe delightes , And yet within God wote , for wante of needfull foode : They féele such griefe , as better were , to lose both life and blood . In these extreames I stande , and still defence doe make : Desiring rather honest death , then shamefull life to take . For life is nothing worth , where honor is defaste : And death as deare to all such wightes , as vertues lore embrace . Although my state be ill , the staffe whereto I stay : Is God the Lord who gouernes all , whose will we must obay . His wisdome farre surmountes the compasse of our witte : He knowes that we know nothing of and geues vs that is fitte . By sundrie meanes he seekes , to winne vs to his will : And all he doth is for our good , although we deeme it ill . What he will haue preserude , shall neuer pearish quight : Be hath a salue for euery sore , and ruleth all by right . This is my only hope , this comfortes all my care : This makes me think my chance wil change , this doth my minde prepare : To bide the hardest bruntes , and beare the greatest griefe . That fortunes force or fiercest foes , or fonde affections chiefe , Can lay vpon my backe , or bringe to breede my smarte .
A Fancie . THe more I sée , the more I seeke , the more I séeke , the lesse I finde : The lesse I finde , the more I leeke . the more I like , the more vnkinde . The more vnkinde , the more my care , the more my care , the worse my cure : The worse my cure , the case more rare , the case more rare , the more vnsure . The more vnsure , the sooner lost , the sooner lost , the lesser stay : The lesser stay , the greater coste , the greater coste , the sweeter pray . The sweeter pray , the more accounte , the more accounte , the more I craue : The more I craue , the more I mounte , the more I indunte , the lesse I haue . Thus doe I liue in liking still : I loue in vaine , and lack my will .
The Louer complaineth his state , THe grief that griepes my harte , & moues my trobled mind Hath peareed so through euerie parte , that now no helpe I find . What , is it miser I , that sigh and sorrow still : In soothe I cannot well conceaue , my case is growen so ill . All reason quite remoued , no meane remaines for me : To conster such a doubtfull case , or iudge of that I see . Then , am I dead in deede ? of truth I know not , I : So voide of soule and sense I am , as one at pointe to die . Alas what might it be , that doth inflame me so : Were it but fire , my streames of teares , had quencht it long ago . How may I rightly tearme , this straunge tormenting griefe : No fire , no life , no death it is , and yet it lackes reliefe .
A dialogue betweene Reason and the harte of a Louer . Reason . ABide a while my harte , why doest thou haste away ? Harte . I goe to seeke the louelie eyes , that must my griefes allay . Reason . I pray thee ●arke a while , my leisure will not serue : Harte . A feruente fire prickes me foorth , and will not let me swerue . Reason . Alas poore harte , alas , how little is thy skill : Thou hast not yet the sense to see , the ende of all thy ill . Those eyes that so thou seekest , will with a glaunce or twaine : To ashes soone conuerte thee quite , that els mightst safe remaine . These eyes they are thy foes , then should they succoure thee ? Harte . They are my frendes , no foes I finde , that will so frendlie be . Reason . Oh this deceaues me most , the suttle birder so With fained notes deceaues the birdes , and seekes to breed their woe . Harte . Thou much beguilest thy selfe , or enuiest at my state : The case is not as thou conceauest , but as I saide of late , The poore vnhappie birde , vnto her death doth flie : I goe to seeke those glorious eyes , to purchase life thereby .
The contrarieties in Loue . TO me the night seemes shorte , the day too long , I flie from loue , but follow still his trace : Vnto my selfe extreame , my selfe I wrong , And wronged so , returne to thee for grace , Greate are my paines , and yet they please me well , I sée the best , and fondly séeke the worst : Desire drawes on , despayre doth hope expell , Twixte weale and woe thus is my case accurst . I proue to runne , but proue my proufe is vaine , The light seemes darke the darke séemes light to me : Though free yet bond I willingly remaine , Youres am I most , mine owne I may not be . My will I wishe , but dare not shew my sute : Loue biddes me speake , and speaking makes me mute .
The Louer to his bedde , O Bedde , o restles bedde , and made for ease , why doest thou not perfourme thy parte to me ? To me a plague , why doest thou others please ? and please him least that most hath neede of thee . I lay me downe in hope to rest awhile , I prooue to sléepe , and so let slippe my griefe : But sower conceites my sweetest ioyes exile , and lets the rest that most should lende reliefe . The swelling seas , when stormes and tempestes rise moue not so much as doth my troubled minde : Of this or that so still it doth deuise , for euery cause a new conceite to finde . Amidst my care this comforte yet I haue ; that in my bedde when restles I remaine : I may be bolde without offence , to craue , what likes me best , although I craue in vaine , And when I craue , and crauing want my will : May waile my wante , and fréelie wéepe my fill .
A Louer , whose ladie saide he was an vnfortunate flatterer , wryteth these verses for answere thereunto . IF euer wordes did wringe me at the harte , My harte was grieued at that I hearde of late : To let good will be barde for my desarte , Desaruing loue , to finde disdainefull hate , Such is my happe , such is my haples fate . The heauens haue wilde , my will must needes obay : And hath no law , the prouerbe so doth say . Say what I can , it cannot helpe a whitte , All that I doe , I see is done in vaine : In vaine I worke , in vaine I waste my witt , In vaine I proue to purchase ease with paine . A sillie proofe that bringes such sorte gaine . Such sorte gaine , for golde that geues me drosse , Harde is my happe that alwayes liue by losse . By losse I liue , by life my selfe I lose , I lose my selfe and yet I liue to loue : I loue to liue , and liue to like of those That feare my fraude , although my faith they proue , My secrete sighes my sorrowes cannot moue . Her hardned harte , whose beautie bindes me still : To sue , to serue , to seeke , and like her will . Flatter alas , I would I could doe so , So should my griefe be shortlie easde thereby : Truth is my trust , let truthles treason goe , Wordes are but winde , where words no works doe try . True dealinge was my Sire , plaine meaning , I , Plaine as I am , can singe a plaine songe best : Best for my soule , small for my bodies rest . Vnfortunate , there did she fitte me right , A righter name she neuer gaue to none ? Fortune my foe , death woorkes me all despight , But let her spight , she spightes not me alone . Besides my selfe , she spightes at many a one ▪ One is there yet , which onely one am I : That feare not fate but fortunes force defy . Like he that list her false dissemblinge lookes , Séeke who so will her faire entysing baites : In such swete showes I sée vnsauerie hookes , Which warnes my witte to shunne her sweete conceites , Who hopes for happe vnhapie wretch he waightes . Her cursed cuppe that will his mynde infecte , And worke his woe ere he the worste suspecte . Suspecte not yet though I suspend my chaunce , That any chaunce can chaunge my constante mynde : The hardest happe shall moste my hope aduaunce , And make me hope although no happe I finde . My hart hath vowde my vow her vertues binde : To byde her owne and onely hers to be , Whose sight lendes light , whose light lends life to me .
The tormented louer that durst not reueale his state . A Happie lyfe I led and liude at ease , When prickt with loue I would at lardge complaine : And to the flame that fedde my fond disease , Geue vent at will to helpe my present paine , But now ( aye me ) my wretched case is such , As s●ase I can permit a sighe to passe : To ease my hart that hath bene chardgd too much , With chaunge of griefes that waxe a heauie masse : I loue , and yet I dare not say I leeke , Tormented still , I seeme to liue content , Consumde with care , I can no comforte seeke , Such is my state , so is my fancie bente . But though I plaine , my plaintes are much the lesse , The lesse my griefe , though little be my ioy : Because I feele , and finde this sower successe , From sweete desire doth springe and spread annoy . Yet let me see , some comforte haue I more , More then I thought , to comforte me withall : Amidst my griefes , that growing grieue me sore : This only grace , vnto my lotte doth fall , To write at night , the wordes I feare to tell : When wanting inke , salte teares doe serue me well .
A dialogue betweene the Louer and Loue . Loue . Loue. O Loue , when wast thou borne ? When euerie leaueles tree And parched soyle began to spring , a seemly sight to see . Louer . Who brought thee foorth at first ? Lo. The nurce of all annoy . Euen idlenes , the plague to man , and ende of all his ioy . Louer . Who gaue thee all this power , to warre with worldlie wights ? Loue. An ardent hope , a colde despaire , that lets your chiefe delights . Louer . Where doest thou harbor most ? Lo. In young & tender harts That tirant-like , I still tormente , with store of piercing darts . Louer . Yet tel , who trainde thee vp ? Lo. Sweete beautie only she : To whom both youth and vanitie , obedient seruants be . Louer . What is the chiefest foode thou feedest thy selfe withall : Loue. A faire cleare light which ledes me forth , & seldome lets me fal Louer . Fearest thou the length of time , that alters all thinges quite ? Or doest thou doute the dinte of death , that daunts the worthiest wight Loue. No , no , I Way then not , for though they change my state , I take my rest , and turne againe , to that I was of late .
The humble petition of a passionate Louer . MAke me to liue , ( swéet mistres ) make me liue , exchaunge my chance , make mirth of mourning cheare Exchange my death , a lasting life to giue , so worke my harte , so weake whilest thou art here That when my soule shall from my bodie flie : it may els where , a better place supplie . Make me to liue that at the instant hower , when thy swete eyes I shall assaye to touche Both sence and sight may want there wonted power . that in thy armes whome I estéeme so much My pyning corse may mildely passe away : and of my life make this the latest day . Ioyne both our soules , ioyne both our soules in one , linke both our hartes in bandes of like good will : Make both our mindes to match in mirth or moane , let our selfe lawe leade our affections still , So let our thoughtes , our wordes and workes agrée : as if I liude in thee , and thou in me . Forbid me not thy lippes that like me well , denie me not thy bosome for my due : Those louely beames where loue him selfe doth dwell those blazing beames , that scarce mine eyes can view , Vouchsafe ( swéete harte ) that sweetely I may kisse : and by such sweetenes turne my bale to blisse . Nought that I haue , can I accounte mine owne , nought that thou hast , in right thou recknest thine : Mine eyes are thine , as all my déedes haue showen , euen so thine eyes , they are or should be mine . My harte is thine , thy harte is due to me : so loue allowes , if so our lyking be . Thou arte my fire , and I thy kindled flame , I am thy soule , be thou my soule againe : Imbrace thine owne , and so auoyde the blame , thou mayst incurre by shewing proude disdaine . Linke fast our lippes , that so with like delight : we may exchaunge our soules , our sense , and sight . So let vs change , as by our chaunge we may be more assured of that we most misdoubt : And not by chaunging , change that chaunce away , that might perchaunce , be better brought about . My séeking is that such exchange shoulde make : our doubtful loue , a déeper roote to take . So is my wishe , and so I hope it will , so may I liue a most contented life : So shall I finde to please my fancie still , so may my state be euer frée from strife . So shall I thinke my selfe , the happyest man : that euer liude since first my life began .
The changeable state of Louers . WHome loue hath made obedyent to his law , doth euerie hower exchaunge his shape anew : I proued it well , that longe haue liude in awe , and often chaungde , the more my chaunce I rue , First to a hart , a woefull wounded harte , I was transformde then to a sillie swanne : That singing shewde his death without desarte , nexte to a flower whose colour soone waxt wan . At laste alas , a Fountaine was I made : as soone dryed vp , for from my blubbered eyes The water flowed , till all began to fade : and now the beast I am , in flame that fries , But yet ere longe , I hope a voice to be : to vaunte of her , that makes no counte of me .
The vanitie of Louers . SInce griefes increase , since this my quenchles fire , Consumes me still , alas what bootes it me To say and sweare , I will with speede retire , And neuer loues , her louely face to see . Since when I wante ( poore wretch ) her wished sight , Her wished sight , the cause of all my care : New cares beginnes to cutte of all delight , And breake my vowes , so snarlde in Cupids snare . Who Tyrant-like ( alas ) the more my paine , Within her eyes hath pleasaunte poysone plaste : The sight whereof , doth search through euerie vaine , And helpeles quite , my fainting harte doth waste . Thus am I forste , though sore against my wil : To séeke and léeke , the cause of all my ill . FINIS .