The miserie of Flaunders, calamitie of Fraunce, misfortune of Portugall, vnquietnes of Irelande, troubles of Scotlande: and the blessed state of Englande. VVritten by Tho. Churchyarde Gent. 1579

THE MISERIE OF FLAVNDERS , CAlamitie of Fraunce , Misfortune of Portugall , Vnquietnes of Irelande , Troubles of Scotlande : And the blessed State of ENGLANDE .

Written by Tho. Church-yarde Gent. 1579.

¶ Imprinted at London for Andrewe Maunsell , dwellyng in Paules Church-yard at the Signe of the Parret .

TO THE QVEENES MOST Excellent Maiestie , Thomas Church-yard , wisheth all heauenly blessednesse , worldly felicitie , and vnremouable good Fortune .

HAuyng a duetifull desire , moste redoubted soueraigne , to be daily exercised in some seruisable deuice and action ( that maie please my Prince and countrey ) I neither spare paines nor season , to purchace through practise of pen , and studie of heade , my desired hope .

But waiyng the greatnesse of your Maiestie and Princely iudgement , I am to seeke , not onely what woordes dooeth best become me , but likewise what woorkes I should present , especially to her highnesse , that hath suche giftes from the heauens , as all our earthly imaginations , & base matter here belowe , maie of right giue place vnto .

And to offer any present where suche parfections doe abounde , and the fountaine of many graces dooeth freely flowe , the presumption were greate , and the boldenesse scarce pardonabel . Yet moste gracious Ladie , albeit I dare not bryng water to the well heade of knowledge , and comfortable spryng ( from whence all kinde of people doe drawe succour and releef ) yet my hope is , that my humble and vpright meanyng ( of this my woorke ) shall finde fauour in your highnesse sight .

In whiche worke I compare , Flaunders , Fraunce , Portugall , Irelande , and Scotlande , to bee the shell of a precious Nutte , the sweete Kirnell whereof is the blessed state of ENGLANDE . And though with worldly wickednesse , and troubles of our tyme , the goodly shell is somewhat wormeaten and cracked , the Kirnell shewes it self so sounde , that Gods greate goodnesse & glorie is partly or altogether therein expressed .

And now by my verses and description is onely touched ( by all curtuous and reuerent meanes ) but the troubles and misfortunes of euery countrie a parte , goyng no further in any frase of speeche , then Christian zeale , loue , and duetie maie commaunde a good minde to sette out , as knoweth our liuyng Lorde , who sende your Maiestie many good and gracious newe yeres , with a blessed and prosperous olde raigne ouer vs .

FINIS .

THE MISERIE of Flaunders . THE soile and welthie seate , where people plentie founde , with scarcities scorge is plaged sore , and made a barraine grounde : Where fruitfull pleasures greate , was lookt for in our daies , And where for wealthe , & worthie thyngs , did ronne our worldly praise . O what a chaunge is this , that neighbours mourne therefore , And forraine foes are greeu'd at harte , to see the euerelesse sore : That now no sence can salue , nor witte can helpe in haste , Nor man maie sone , by force reforme , till warrs and will maks waste . O Hauocke Reuells sonne , and Riotte sister dere : To foule misrule , a mother vice , that raignde full many a yere . In vieu and corners cloase , O nourse of noughtie prancks : And needlesse pains and labour loste , that can deserue no thanks . Why should I blame abuse , where Gods greate wrath bears swaie . And peoples heads , will haue it so , and worldlie witts decaie : So ronnyng on the race , of crooked carelesse stepps , Out goes good order at a iompe , and in rude maner lepps . That at his firste rebounde , Shaks all in sonder streight : And eche thyng cracks , that feels the force , of wilfull hauocks weight . Now leaue that long discourse , that hatefull hauocke bryngs : ( By meane of rage , and reuell route ) and speake of other thyngs . That Flaunders groens to feele , and sondrie sighe to see : And none but wails that weyes the weight , of stacts in eche degree . Why should riche Flaunders now , to Fortune , poore giue place ? That had the harte , and happe with all , from harmes to holde her face , Among the beste of name , that wealthie state could showe : Doe aske no more but leaue the cause , to hym that all doeth knowe . Yet I with speeches free , maie tell what troubles are : In Flaunders now , for that their broils , began of countreis care . And matters fitte for penne , awhile to treate vpon : Good Whetstons for to sharpe dull witts , the reste I looke not on . That seru's for speciall spreetts , that seeth through Moone and Starre : So thus to leaue of weightie thyngs , and come to Flaunders warre . ( That worlde bewails and weeps , that sees thereof the ende : And knowes that head and shoulders must , their countries cause defende . ) My muse bidds me bee bolde , for therein wants no skill : To vse apt woords , and searche out woorks , to straine the ynkchorne quill . For causes knowne to worlde , then why if men maie aske , Doeth Flaunders learne the dolefull daunce , and comes in open Maske , With drom and trompet loude , to wake the worlde from sleepe ? That at sweete reste and peace will laugh , and at sowre warre will weepe . Why doeth freends faule at iarre , and slide in sects by swarms ? And heapyng mischeef on their heads , are grounde of their owne harms . Why leaps some from their holde , and taks the weakest parte ? And so forsaketh God and man , to winne a worlde by arte . Why haclls the horsses wrong , that in right course should goe ? Why doe the wise heads embrace self will , and weaue a webbe of woe ? The cause doeth shewe it self , for where dissention is , There are fewe matters well in frame , and many thyngs amis : Now is no nother noyes , but howlyng vp and downe : And doubt and daunger bryngs greate feare , in many a noble towne . Now wanders peoples mynds , like waues of troubled seas : And neither man nor childe God wot , is free from warrs diseas . Death dwells in eche mans dore , and threatens mischeeus greate : The riche but maeks a hongrie meale , the poore he starus for meate . Was neuer seen suche want , in any soile before : And feawe haue little commyng in , but spendeth on the store . The Soldiour liu's by spoile , the Marchaunts trade is don : The Plowman letts the plowe alone , and out poore people ron: As though that men were madde , and knowe not where to goe : In doubt to finde a faithfull freend , and sure to meete a foe . The Pater noster men , Or Mal content , thei saie : Hath brought our people suche a plague , as breeds their whole decaie . Eche Christian harte doeth weepe to knowe the carefull cace : Of Flaunders now , who to the chaunge , of worldlie chaunce giu's place . FINIS .

THE CALAMITIE of Fraunce . WHat Kyngdome maie , compare with wofull Fraunce , Whose ciuill warrres , did laste God wot too long : The mightie men , thereby felt greate mischaunce , The feeble folke , were forest to suffer wrong , And no estate , was free from scath and foile , Suche furie raingde , in rage of peoples mynds , The weaklyngs went , to ruin , to wracke , and spoile , As trees be torne , with blast and whirlyng wynds , Strong goodly tounes , were beaten doune to grounde Hye walls and towers , were battred flat as Cake , When trompetts blast , and drum did slaughter sounde , And bloudie blade , did wicked murther make . O listen now , and heare my tale a while , The warrs of Fraunce , so sharpe and cruell weare , The sonne hymself , the father would begile , And brother still , of brother stoode in feare , With poison foule , and murther euery wheare . The countrey through , was spred and plaged sore , And for to make , the scourge , and mischeef more , One frende by crafte , the other would betraie , And suretie none , in Princes pallaice stoode , The house of God , where people ought to praie , And aulter stone , was daiely stainde with blood . The streats was filde , with corses vilie slaine , And in the streame , and floud the babes were flong , And Ladies throats , with kniues were cutte in twaine There was no hope , when larumbell was rong , Bothe wiues with childe , and little children yong , Were stabbed in , with Daggers diuers waies , Some from their bedds , were floung amid the streete , Suche murthers Lorde , were in those bloodie daies : As women laie , without a cloute or sheete , ( All deade and bare , a rufull sight to see ) In open plaine , yea men of auncient yeers , Were mangled sore , and some of high degree : And noble race , and of the Deuze Peers , Were naked lefte , and wounded to the death , And goodlie girlls , laie groulyng voide of breath : In market place , the furie was so greate , The rage was suche , that none might scape the sworde Nor nothyng could , ne coole nor quenche the heate : Of Ciuill warre , that bothe at bedde and borde : Was bloodie still , and yet the more was slaine , The more the broile , and greef began againe . To tell you all , their battailes here a rowe , Would moue your minde , and heauie harte to tears , At sondrie tymes , their owne reporte doeth showe , ( And good recorde , thereof true witnesse bears . ) Thei lost in feeld , twoo hundreth thousande men , Yet still their mindes , on murther ran so faste , Thei went about , nothyng but bloodshed then , To sight it out , as long as life might laste , Reuenge did woorke , and weaue an endlesse webbe , Desire of will , a wofull threede did spinne , The floode of hate , that neuer thinks of ebbe , A swellyng Sea , of strife brought gushyng in . The rooted wrathe , had spred suche braunches out , That leaues of loue , were blasted on the bowe , Yet spitfull twiggs , began so faste to sprout , That from the harte , the tree was rotten throwe . No kindly sappe , did comforte any spraie , Bothe barke and stocke , and bodie did decaie . So that it seemde , the soile infected was , With malice moods , that smells of mischeef greate , Their golden lande , was tournde to rustie Bras : And eche thyng wrought , as God had curst the seate , The ground thought scorne , to bryng forth frute in tune The Uines did rotte , the blade would beare no corne , Like Winter foule , became the Sommers Prime , The pleasant plotts , brought forth wilde brier & thorn With Raine and storme , the lande was vexed still , The ire of God , the people could not shunne , Greate grewe the greef , that came by headstrong will , And all these plagues , by proude conceite begonne , That thought to rule , perhapps past reasons lore , Treate that who please , my muse not framde therefore : Of warrs and woe , I meane my penne to straine , In breef discourse , for Wisedomes vieu alone , I skippe ouer doubts , I dare not be to plaine , Least fire flie out , from flinte and stricken stone . Those broills abroche , the realme ran all to ruen : The heads waxte sicke , the members were amis , The notes were nought , the song was out of tune , And badde is best , where suche rude Musick is . Blood was so sought , that Butcherie boare the swaie , A man and beast , were waied bothe a like : The Shepe must dye , the Wolfe would haue his praie , The riche would rule , the poore must passe the pike , The house must burne , that could not make defence , The head must of , that had more witte then needs , The fullest baggs , were searched for their pence . The vains were sought , that moste the humour feeds , The good might starue , the badde found all the grace , The wise might walke abroade , and tell the trees , The faunyng fooles , were moste prefarde in place : The waspes would sucke , the honie from the Bees , And to be plaine , abuse in all degrees , Bred nought but warre , and nourisht suche debate , That all to torne , did lye that noble state . And when one race , or noble house did rise , With force of armes , to make reuolte or stoer , Tenne thousande flockt , as thicke as starrs in skies . About the streats , before the Princes doore , No woords might serue , nor reason could preuaile : The people waxte , as wilde as chafed Deere , Yea though thei heard , their wiues bothe wepe & waile , Their children crie , their frends make mournyng chere To bloodie fight , in furie fell thei all , And though on heaps , dead coarses laie in vieu , The people made , accounte thereof but small . For battaile did , but malice still renue . A greate mans death , coste many small mens liues , A small offence , did make a greate adoo , When men forget , their children and their wiues , And madlie faulls , to hate their countrey too . A little sparke , will make a marueilous fire , And then bothe Prince , and Lawe is out of minde : Good rule is drounde , and children doo conspire , Their fathers deaths , and kinsmen out of kinde , Doo turne and change , as weather Cocke with winde . O Fraunce , who lookes , vpon thy bloodie waies , And notes but halfe , the pageant thou hast plaied : Will be therefore , the wiser all their daies , Or at the least , will howrely bee afraied . To plaie suche pranks , as thou poore France hast doon Thou hadst a tyme , and wretched race to run . For others weale , that can good warnyng take , Thy neighbours haue , had laisure to regarde , The harms of thee , and so a mirrour make : Of thy greate doole , and dulfull destinie harde . Can greater plagues , bee seen in any soile ? Then , reuell rage , and hauocke euery waie , A ciuill warre , with wicked waiste and spoile . A deadlie botche , that striks stoute harte by daie . And kills by night , the harmles in his bedde , O ciuill warre , thou hast a Hidras hedde : A Uipers kinde , a Serpentes nature throwe , A Spiders shape , a forme of vglie Tode : A Deulishe face , a shamelesse blotted browe , A bloodie hande , at home and eke abrode . And if a man , would painte a monster right , Set out in shape , but eiuill warre to sight : Painte all the harms , that cruell murther bryngs , And sure that Snake , will shewe ten thousande stings . A man maie not , in colours set forthe well , A rude reuolt , a wretched ciuill brawll : He were as good , assaie to painte out hell , And seeke to shewe , the sorts of torments all , That sillie souls , doo feele with damned spreetts . Who sees reuolte , in feeld or ciuill streets , Will thinke he meetts , madd doggs disgisde like men , Or els wilde Wolues , that liues in sauage woode : It passeth witte , and cunnyng arte of pen , To blase out warrs , began on mortall foode . And namely broills , that breeds in publike state , The cause whereof , bothe God and man doeth hate . O France the flowre , and gardaine of the earth , The soile of wealthe , and topp of triumphe all : Where is become , thy pastyme and thy mirthe , Thy glorie greate , that worldlie ioyes we call . Hath wilde reuolt , made tame thy gallants gaie , Fie on that braule , that breeds so greate a fraie . Fie on that warre , that bryngs riche people bare . And foule befaule , the birds that files their neaste , Reuolte bryngs realms , and mightie kyngs in care , And roots vp peace , and plants discord in breaste . Though wilfull heads , in haste reuenge will take , And for some shreaude , deuise drawes out the blade , Beware through heate , how ciuill warre you make : It wounds the state , and marrs all honest trade , It rotts sound harts , and spoils eche common weale , A curelesse sore , that no sweete salue can heale . The sowre mischaunce , that Fraunce hath self thereby , ( And slaughters greate , whiche lasted many a yere ) Dooth stande so freshe , and full before your eye , That worlde maie see , men bought that warre ful dere : The flood of strife , did run so through the realme , Some dreggs must needs , be left behinde the streame . In whiche deepe drosse , maie lye more harme then good God shield eche lande , that loues and fears the Lorde , From suche abuse , and thirstyng after blood , And plant therein , sweete peace and milde accorde : From whiche pure tree , there springs a precious balme , That keeps of storms , and bryngs a quiet calme . FINIS .

THE MISFORTVNE of Portugalle . AS Fraunce did smarte , through rage of ciuill warre , And Flaunders is , not free from suche like foile : So other soils , by meane of wicked iarre , When least is thought , are offred to the spoile . Whose wretched ruen , the wise doeth daiely rewe , To make the fonde , reforme their life a newe : But where was peace , and loue long linked faste , And people waxt , bothe riche and stoute of minde , If their mishappe , and mischeef come at laste , What harte in breast , or man is so vnkinde : That will not waile , the woe of suche a lande , Who God alone , hath toucht with mightie hande . In Portugall , befell a dolfull cace , The straungest chaunce , that hath bin heard of late , There was a kyng , who had greate gifts of grace , A Princely sparke , of goodly porte and state : And as his shape , was semely to the sight , So loe within , his minde was shapte a right . For forme of face , and other outwarde shoes , Were aunswered full , with greatnesse of the harte : And in that Prince , as now report there goes , Of speciall points , was many a noble parte . Among the reste , was one full muche to note , He sought no will , nor would of women dote , Desirde renowne , and yet despisde delite , And loathed luste , yet loude a merrie meane , To pastyme bent , yet banisht pleasure quite , And glad to leade , a life moste pure and cleane . And alwaies ment , to doe some mightie deede , Against the Turkes , suche noble mynde he bore : That of the like , a man maie hardly reede , And in our daies , was seldome seen before , Well , what auails , to blase his vertues more . His minde was suche , he would not idle sitte , He helde good fame , more worth then heaps of gold : And to maintaine , his courage and his witte , Against the Mores , a powre prepare he would . So with his freends , and suche as wishte hym well , He shippyng tooke , and spread the seas with sails , But now I haue , a wofull tale to tell . And now in deede , my muse bothe weeps and wails , And I my self , of right ought be full sadd , To shewe at large , what ill successe he had , Bothe he and his , full safly sette on shore , On enemies ground , and rangyng where thei would : His foes hym mette , and fought with hym so sore : ( Whose strength and force , were stronger treble fold . ) That he was slaine , and all his people loste : And fewe of them , retourned home againe , Suche was their fate , that sought that curssed coste . To make vs muse , that doeth a liue remaine , And make vs knowe , by this greate foughten feeld : There is no life , but must to Fortune yeeld . For at one tyme , three kynges made there their ende , But none of them , maie christen men lament : Saue this good kyng , to whom the Lorde did sende , A sodaine fall , to our greate discontent . Yea , waie the losse , and worthe of christen bloode , An let the case , be throughly vnderstoode . There was not suche , a losse these hundreth yeers , Be iudge thereof , that knowes what Princes are : And of the state , and rule of kyngdoms heers , And Portugall , thou lucklesse lande of care , Be thou the iudge , if I speake trothe or noe , Looke how thou wilte , thou canst not hide thy woe : In mournyng blacke , let all thy people goe : Proclaime a fast , and stretehe your hands on hie , And in the streats , for sorrowe houle and crie . For since thy kyng , is taken from thee thus , That was before , sent thee to thy greate ioye : There is behinde , a sorer plague yewus , If carelesse heads , of earnest make a toye . Could more mishappe , to any soile befall , Then lose the Lampe , that gaue the countrey light : ( And in the darke , can finde no torche at all , Nor candell clere , to walke in Winters night , ) Could Fortune woorke , to men a worse despite : Then take a waie , their hope and comfort quite . Could people lose , a Pearle of greater price : Then suche a Gem , as worlde conscarcly showe . Could Heathen men , wishe any worse deuice , To vs , then giue , so greate an ouerthrowe . I feare the baebs , that learns their Christs crosse row , Will quaile for this , when we are in our graue . The losse is yet , like fruite that is but greene , On goodlie trees , that blasted is with winde : But when the want , of apples shal be seene , With more regarde , the matter shall we minde . Leaue that to hym , that gius and taks awaie , Who can at length , his secrte will bewraie . Now sheepe from fold , maie ron and meete the wolfe , Now gide is gone , the flocke to ruen must fall : Now greef paste cure , comes in through gushyng golfe , Now Prince is dead , adue poore Portugall . Thy date is doen , excepte for deastnie straunge , God sende some chaunce , to counterpaise the chaunge . In Skies of late , was seen a blasyng Starre , A Comete bright , that threatned plags at hande , Whiche did presage , perhapps this bloodie warre , And Plags that are , a brotche in many a lande . God is displeasd , and sure his wrathe is greate , When Turcks doe scorge , and plage the chrsten kings : This angrie signe , and fearfull sodaine heate , Maks wisemen waie , the weight of further things . Where mightie trees , are rent with thunder cracke , With tremblyng feare , the people homeward ronne : The tempests rage , that bryngeth ruen and wracke , Where daunger is , eche liuyng thyng will shonne : So suche as see , where plague or warrs encreace , Will seeke for healthe , and praie to liue in peace . FINIS .

THE VNQVIETNES of Irelande . TO treate of Irelands toile , and tell the troubles now , ( and paint you out in prose or vers , the countries sorowe thorowe ) Would sure containe more tyme and carnest matter bothe , Than easly men would spare to spend or worlde would thinke a trothe . For there these many yeres , hath strief in state been storde , And seldome in the quiet sheath , can reste the trenchyng sworde . The soldiours that are sent , to keepe the lande in awe : Are faine to marche through thicke and thinne , and after lye in strawe , And feede on what thei finde , but loe plaine countreymen , Doeth saie our horse , eats vp their corne , and Coignie now and then . Maks wife and children crie , and leaus the lande full bare : T is hard to knowe if commons poore , or soldiours feels moste care . The greef so common is , that eche one beares a peece , And God he knowes who licks the fatte , or shears awaie the flece . But now to tell the toile , and trauaill soldiours take , To those that knowes not what it means , it would a wonder make . For who that there can serue , and suffer what doeth fall , Maie bide the bront of any warre , in Christen Kyngdoms all : The strength and straits are suche , that men must passe somtyme . The rocks and mountains are so straunge , whereon the soldiours clime : Thei can not well be tolde , nor numbred here a right . And touchyng mightie woods and boggs , I could name suche a sight : As would you wearie make , to read or looke vpon , And who demaunds the trothe of those , that hath the iourneis gon . Shall heare a thousande thyngs , whiche worthie is the note , The labor , paine , and proofe thereof , will neuer be forgote . Some feels it in their ioynts , and shall whiels liues thei beare , And so be bolde , who tries that soile , maie venter any where : For toile doeth daiely growe , amidde that troubled lande , But how the cause thereof doth rise , with wisedome bee it scande . To heare the people crie , and see their bare estate , Would sure moue tears in any eye , that doeth the countrey hate . I can but wishe them well , my duetie claims the same , For that thei are our neighbors nere and ought with equall name , Like subiects liue with vs , for since one , Prince wee haue , One minde & maner should we shew , good order that doeth craue . The hande doeth loue the arme , and arme with leggs agree , And all the ioynts the bodie bears , in perfite peace must bee : So head shall well bee serude , but where those members iarre , There wil burst out some bold abuse some braule , or irksom warre . Though Irelande hath bin long , in moste vnquiet cace , It wil be well , when God shall plant , in peoples harts his grace : I hope to see that daie , and that in season short , That my plain pen shall finde greate cause , to yelde them good report . FINIS .

THE TROBLES of Scotlande . IF Flaunders , Fraunce , or Portugall compare , With Scotlande now , for trobles , straunge it were : For that is soile , of sorrowe and of care , And cheefest seate , of sadnesse any where . That ofte hath had , within it self suche stoore , As spoilde the lande , and kept the countrey poore : And when that warrs , awhile had taken leaue , ( And woe bade want , to laie doune speare and sheelde : ) The one by sleight , the other would deceaue , And than sharpe sworde , should plead the case in feelde . Yea in the house , short dagger did the deede , When murther might , serue tyme or turne for neede : And nousled thus , thei were God wot in blood , In rage thei would , not spare , ne hye nor lowe : Not one might buye , his life for worldly good , If murthryng hands , were bent to giue the blowe : Their hainous actes , sufficient proofe doeth showe , I neede not name , the persons thei haue slain : For slaughters crie , through highest clouds doeth goe , And daiely craues , of God redresse againe . The murtheryng minde , is neuer free from foe . Nor sure of freende , nor yet of life in fine , But dwells in doubt , and lius like curssed Caine : O happie wight , that hath suche grace deuine , That neuer will , his harte nor conscience staine , With brothers blood : and blessed is that hedde , And hande withall , that neuer blood did shedde . Bothe beasts and birds , will fall out sondrie waies , And striue awhile , and yet at length agree : But as thei waste , their coller so decaies , And cleane forgotte , the quarrells are you see . Shall man , that hath , the reason to forbeare , Bee worse then beast ? O God that fault forbid , Shall mallice finde , a place and succour there , Where Gods greate gifts , ought lye like treasure hid ? Shall harts of men , ( the temple of the Lorde ) Lodge murther vile , and nourishe foule discorde ? Shall those that knowes , what lawe & peace is worth , Breake Lawe and Peace , and breede dissention still ? The tree is badde , that bryngs suche braunches forth : The hedds are vaine , that showes no deeper skill , The ground is nought , that breeds but scratting brers And soile not good , where murther still appers . And yet the grounde can beare no blame of this , Mens harts vnsounde , turns many thyngs amis . Or els the fate , that is from heauen sent , And cruell course of Planetts maie be cause : That people are , to troubles daiely bent , And so forgetts , good rule and wholsome lawes . If Planetts could , woorke that effecte in man , Where should Gods grace , haue force and vertue than ? It were a faulte , and errour wonders greate , To trust or thinke , that Planetts could doe ought , In man who taks , his force and kindly heate , His forme and shape , his sence and feelyng thought , From hym that sitts , aboue the Starrs and sees , How Planetts moue , and how the worlde agrees . Would God those soiles , where greatest iarrs haue bin , And all the sorts , and people of the same : Would from henceforthe , suche trade of life begin , As in our worlde , might purchace endlesse fame . For bloodie brauls , that hurlie burlie breeds , With murthers foule , and treasons voide of feare , Coms out of vice , and spryngs from wicked seeds . Thei are a drosse , and Darnell in good Corne : A gracelesse graine , that poisons man and beaste : An open plague , a priuie prickyng thorne : A bankette fine , to grace a filthie feaste : A dishe of swill , dreste vp like daintie cheare : A messe of brothe , that marrs the Dinner quite : A colde conceite , of Cookrie boughtfull deare : A connyng knacke , of knaurie spicste with spite : A tricke newe learnde , beyonde the Alps I trowe : A toye brought home , by those that trauells farre : A simple Snake ; a smilyng suttell shrowe : A signe of Peace , but grounde of greeuous warre . What can be named , of all vile earthly thyngs , But murthers reache , and monstrons treason bryngs : The lande that hath , amid his bowels bred , This sore disease , and will no medson take : Is sure not well , and sicke from feete to hed , And of it self , but small account doeth make . No state can stande , where Iustice bears no swaie , The leggs are lame , that full of humours are : The man must fall , that hath no certaine staie , Where vertue wants , vice walks but thin and bare . A patched waule , is shakte a sonder streight : It lasts no while , that is set vp by sleight : Our Nature haets , the thyng that is not good : And suche as halte , are spied by vpright seuce : And kinde abhors , the blade embrued in blood : Who striks the weake , that can not make defence , Dare not in feeld , a point to meete his foe . Who maeks a bande , to murther one alone , Loues neither Prince , nor commonwealth I knowe : And who delites , to here the giltlesse grone , Doeth beare mans shape , and Tygers nature showe : Well , let that passe , greate troubles maie a rise , In angrie worlde , that is displeasde for nought : But suche as fall , to murther are not wife , Their witts can not , conceiue how man was wrought Nor who regards , the wrongs good people haue : Whils giltlesse blood , a right reuenge doeth craue . FINIS .

THE BLESSED state of Englande . WHat blessed hap , and happie daies , our Kyngdome doeth posses , the welth & peace that here abounds to worlde maie well expres : What greater ioye can people haue than rest and riches bothe ? And many other fruitfull thyngs , that on those braunches groweth . What earthly fame , is like to this ? what wisedome can bee more ? Than shunne the broiels , that follie bryngs , and laie vp wealthe in store . For warrs when cause commaunds the same , what can wee wishe so well Than , at a tyme of troubles greate , in quiet house to dwell . But waye a while with iudging witte ; what woe our neighbours taste : What wealthe goes out , what worlds vnreste comes in with warre and waste , A lustie brute , cries all for warre , and suche as little haue : With Princes paie , or poore mens goods , would faine goe gaie and braue , But tastyng warrs , bothe he and more , that buyes their knowledge dere , That goes out well , coms home with losse , and than rests quiet here . Cries out of warrs , finds fault with toile , and trusts to that will laste , And so with sadde and heauie minde , forgetts the labours paste : And faulls to take the ease we here enioye , with peace at home . A Iewell whiche full fea we shall finde , that lists abrode to rome . For rounde about vs euery where , the worlde so runs on wheels : That we are blest that here no parte , of their affliction feeles . Here haue wee scope to skippe or walke , to ronne and plaie at base : Still voide of feare , and free of minde , in euery poincte and cace . Here freends maie meete and talke at will , the Prince and Lawe obaied : And neither straunge , nor home borne childe , of Fortune stands afraied . Here hands doe reape the seeds thei so we , and heads haue quiet sleeps : And wisedome gouerns so the worlde , that reason order keeps . Here mercie rules , and mildenesse raigns , and peace greate plentie bryngs : And sollace in his sweetest voice , the Christmas carrowle syngs . Here freends maie feast , and triumphe too , in suertie voide of ill : And one the other welcome make , with mirthe and warme good will . The grounde it bryngs suche blessyng forthe , that glad are forrains all : Amid their want , and harde exstreems , in fauour here to faull . Heer wounded staets doe heale their harms , and straungers still repaire ; When mischeef makes them marche abroad , and driue them in dispaire . Heer thousands haunt and finde releef , that are in heauie cace : And freendly folke with open armes , doeth sillie soules enbrace . Heer thyngs are cheape , and easly had , no soile the like can showe : No state nor Kyngdome at this daie , doeth in suche plentie flowe . The trau'lar that hath paste the worlde , and gone through many a lande : When he comes home , and noets these thyngs , to heauen holds vp hande : And museth how this little plotte , can yeeld suche pleasures greate : It argues where suche graces growe , that God hath blest the seate . Bothe Prince and people euery one , and where his blessyng is , There neither wants no earthly ioye , nor hope of heauens blis . This I LE , is Kirnell of the Nutte , and those that neare vs dwell , ( Our forraine neighbours rounde about , ) I counte them but the shell : That holdeth in this Kirnell sweete , as Nature hath a ssiende . And as some shells worme eaten are , yet Kirnell sounde we finde : So sondrie soils , about this Ile , are crackt , and croshte ye knowe : With furies rage , and force that fills their countrey full of woe . Whiche force of men , or rage of warre , maeks calme the lookers on : And bids wise heads , to quenche hotte fire , and stande as colde as ston . When strief would storre vp quiet state , to striue for feeble strawes : And leaue the loue of countries zeale , and holde with forraine cause . O ENGLANDE , thou art blest in deede , thy necke is free from yoke : Thy armes are strong , thy body sounde , and in good howre be spoke , Thy youth and age haue able ioynts , to trie thy cause in feelde : And as that now in troublous tymes , the Lorde hath been thy sheelde . So looke when comes in , cunnyng knacks , thy whole account is made , That plainnes shall make finenes feele , the weight of Bilbowe blade . More blessed than thy neighbours all , by proof thou art as yet : More likely art thou by that cause , in peace and reste to sit . More good in season hast thou doen , than thousands well can waye : Moste happie is thy state therefore , and surer stands thy staye . Than maiest thou be the Kirnell sweete , that many wishe to haue : But none can spoile , nor scarce dare touche , suche grace greate God thee gaue . That garde shall keepe the Kirnell long , from worme and wicked foile : And sende good fortune sondrie waies , vnto this blessed soile . FINIS .