\A 
 
 
7 // E 
 
 PARADISE 
 
 OF 
 
 A iRANscKipr OF Tin: kikst icoition, 1576, 
 In the hand writi/nr of the late 
 
 ( J !•: c) R ( ; I : s r v. v. v i: x s, Ks q. 
 tUXitf) an 'Hppr ntiijt' : 
 
 Contaiiiiii!; Aclililicmal I'lcccs from the Kdilions of 
 I. -3 SO .K- 1 ()()(). 
 
 j!j/.s/n Ecr.iirox r./nnaKs, k.j. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PKINTKIl lOU IMilJKlrr llnnu'OK, 37, M. J\MI>'s ^TRtET, 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 B 
 
 The present new edition of the Paradise of Dabily 
 Denises is printed literatim from a copy belonging to 
 the Editor, made by the hand of the late eminent George 
 Steevcns, the Commentator on Shakspeare, from the 
 first edition of the original, then possessed by his friend 
 Dr. Farmer. The public, it is hoped, will give credit 
 to the accuracy of such a copy. The defects, if any, are 
 best accounted for by a note in Steevens's hand-wiiting. 
 " It has been attempted to render the following MS. 
 " a fic-simile of the first edition of the Parad\5e of 
 " Dainty Devices, with all its inaccuracy of speliino-, 
 " punctuation, 8cc. ; but as habits of orthography, 8cc. 
 " arc not easily got rid of, perhaps they may have occa- 
 " sionally prevailed over the blunders which the tran- 
 " scribcr has professed to copy." 
 
 The pages of the original are imperfectly numbered; 
 and this peculiarity has been retained in the present im- 
 pression. It has been also thought proper to retain the 
 ancient orthography; but the punctuation has been some- 
 what changed, as, in its old state, it appeared to the Edi- 
 tor too frequently to destroy the sense. 
 
 Mr. Haslkwood, with that indefatigable zeal and in- 
 dustry which cannot be too much applauded, transcribed 
 with his own hand the copy, which has passed the press; 
 and most carefully and faithfully corrected the sheets 
 from the Printer. 
 
 The 
 
 IV.625747 
 
The additional pieces from the subsequent editions of 
 1580 and i6co, were kindly communicated by Mr. Park, 
 from copies made by George Ellis, esq. from the origi- 
 nals in the possession of the lale Duke of Roxhurg/i. 
 
 The present impression does not exceed 250 copies in 
 octavo, attached to the British Bibliographer, 
 and 120 taken off in quarto. 
 
 Samuel Egerton Brydges. 
 
 Denton, Nov. 26, I8O9. 
 
THE PARADYSE 
 
 of daynty deu'tfes, 
 nptlti fiivmlljrti, toulj siiin&r|i pit&ic aiiD Icarncti inucntion0 
 
 deuijcd and ivriticn for the moji part by M. Edwards, 
 
 fomctimes of her Matcjiies Chaff cl: the refl by 
 
 fundry learned Gentlemen, both of honor, 
 
 and ivoorfj/ipfe. 
 
 fjij. 
 
 S. Barnarde. iasper Heyvvood. 
 
 E. O. F. K. 
 
 L. V'aux. M. Revve. 
 
 D. S. R.Hill. 
 
 M. Yloop, with others. 
 
 [Device in an oval : an Angel crowned holding in the right hand a flaming heart 
 of Charity ; in the left a crofs ; Handing on a figure defcribcd by the word " Diabo- 
 lus ;■■ with various infcriptions and cmblcmaiical allufinns, fuppofed to reprefent the 
 viftory of Virtue and Eternal light. The Printer's monogram in one corner. Motto 
 in the oval ; £;3 rum via el verilas.] 
 
 IMPRINTED AT LON- 
 
 do?i, by Henry Disle, dwellyug in 
 p.itilrci Cfturchparti, at tftc &outl^ toesit Oaore 
 
 of Saint Paules Church, and are there 
 to be folde. 
 
 1576. 
 
[arms of sir HENTxY •OiMPTON.] 
 
TO THE RIGHT BONO- 
 
 rahle Syr He7iry Compton Knight^ 
 
 BLartic Compton, of Comptom 
 
 R 
 
 IGHT HONORABLE, 
 
 and viy very good Lord, ( pre- 
 f liming vppon your ciirtefy ) "J 
 am bolde to prefent vnto your honor, this 
 
 fmall njolume: Entituled, The Paradife 
 of deynty deuifes, being penned by diners 
 learned Gentlemen, and collected togea- 
 ther, through the trauell of one, both of 
 woor/hip and credite, for his priuatc vfe : 
 who not long fince departed this lyfe^ 
 which when f had perufed ouer, not with 
 out the aduije of fundry my freendes, f 
 determined by . theyr good motion, to Jet 
 them in print, who thervnto greatly per- 
 
 Jwaded me, with tbefe and like woordes : 
 The wrytcrs of them, were both of honor 
 and wor/hip : bejides that, our owne coun- 
 trey men, and juch as for theyr Icamyng 
 and granitic, might be accounted of a- 
 A ij mong 
 
THE EPISTLE. 
 
 motig the wife/i. Furthermore, the ditties 
 both pithy afid pkafant, a/well for the 
 inuention as meter, and wyll yeelde a 
 far re greater delight, being as they are fo 
 aptly made to be fet to any foftg in 5. 
 partes, or fong to infirument. Which wel 
 confydering, J pwpofcd not to forfake fo 
 good an occafion, bejeeching your honor 
 to accept it in good part, cheefely for the 
 auHhours fake : who though Jome of them 
 are departed this lyfe, yet theyr woorthy 
 doings fhall cofitinuc for euer : for like as 
 the fhadow foloweth the body, fo praife 
 foloweth vertue : and as the /hadoiv goeth 
 fomtimes before, and fometimes hehind, 
 fo doth praife alfo to vertue : but the later 
 it commeth, the greater it is, and to be the 
 better efeemed. Thus fearing to offende 
 your honour voith theje my rude fpe aches, 
 J end, wijhing your L. many yeres of ioy. 
 
 JJour BOoD JLoH)f|)ipa IdIjoIe to commaunD, 
 H.D. 
 
THE TRANSl^ATION 
 
 of the blessed Saint Barnards 
 
 verses, conteynyng the vnstable felicitie 
 
 of this wayfaring worUe. 
 
 Cur mu/idus militat, sub vana gloria, aiius prosperilas est transiloria .- 
 Tarn cilo lalilur, eius fotentia, ijuam vasa figuli, qua; sunt J'ragiita. 
 
 Why dooth cache state apply it sclfe to worldly prayse? 
 And vnderlake such toyle, to heape vp honours gaync: 
 Whose seate, though seeming sure, on tickle fortune stayes. 
 Whose giftes were neuer proued, perpctuall to remaync ? 
 But euen as earthen pot, with cucry fillip fayles. 
 So fortunes fauour flittes, and fame with honour quayles. 
 
 Plus crede litleris, scrifilis in glacie, quam mundifragilis, vana-fallar'h 
 Fallcu: in premijs, virlutis specie, quts numquam haluit, teiiipusjiduria 
 
 Thinke rather firme to finde a figure grauen in Ise, 
 Whose substance subiect is to heate of sbinyng sunne: 
 Then hope for stedfast stay, in wanton wcrldes deuisc, 
 Whose taincd fond delightes, from falsheds forge doo come. 
 And vnder Vertues veyle, are largely dealt about, 
 Dccciuing Uiose, who thinke their date wyll neuer out. 
 
 Magii credendu est viris fallacilus, quam mundi miseris profpcrilatibu-s. 
 Falsis insanijs y voluptatilus,falsis quoqua: studiis & vanitatilus. 
 
 The trifeling truelhles tongue of rumours lying lippes, 
 Deserucs more trust, then dooth the highest iiappy hap:^ 
 That world to worldlinges gcues, for see how honour slippcs. 
 To foolishe fond conceytes, to pleasures poysoncd sap. 
 To sludyes false in proofe, to artes applyed to gayne, 
 To fickle fancies loyes, which wysedome deemcth vayne. 
 
 Die vli 
 
Die vh'i Salomon^ olim tarn, nolilis ? vel vbi Samson est, dux inuincililis ? 
 Vcldulcis lonathas, muhu amabiiis ? vel pulcher Alsolon, vullu mirabdis? 
 
 Where is the sacred king, that Salomon the wyse, 
 Whose wysdome, former time, of duetie did commend ? 
 Where is that Samson strong, that monstrous man in syze. 
 Whose forced arnie, dyd cause the mighty pillers bend? 
 Where is the peareles Prince, the freendly lonalhas ? 
 " Or Absolon, whose shape and fauour did surpasse? 
 
 Quo Caesar alijt; celsus imperio, vel diues splendidns, totus in frandio? 
 Die vbi TuUius, clarus eloquio, vel Arisloleles, sumrnus ingenio. 
 
 Where is that Caesar nowe, whose hygh renowmed fame, 
 
 Of sundry conquestes wonne throughout the world did sound f 
 
 Or Diues riche in store, and rich in richely name. 
 
 Whose chest with gold and dishe, with dayniies did abound? 
 
 Where is tlie passing grace of Tallies pleding skill? 
 
 Or Aristotles vayne, whose penne had vvitte and wyll ? 
 
 O esca vcrmium, o' massa pulueris, o' ros, o' vanitas, cur sic extolleris? 
 lirnoras penitus vtrum eras vixeris,fac bonum omnibus, qiiam diupoteris. 
 
 O foode of filthy woorme, oh lumpe of lothsome clay, 
 
 O life full like the deawe, which mornyng sunne dooth waste, 
 
 O shadowe vayne, whose shape with sunne dooth shrinke away. 
 
 Why gloryest thou so much, in honour to be plaste ? 
 
 Sith that no certayne houre of life thou dost enioy. 
 
 Most fyt it were, thy tyme in goodnesse to employ. 
 
 Quam Ireuefestu est, hiec mudi gloria, vt vmbra hominu sic eius gaudia, 
 Qua semper subtrahit leterna pramia i3' ducunt hominu, ad dura deuia. 
 
 How short a banquet seemes the pompe of high renowme? 
 How like the senseles shape, of shiuering shadowe thinne. 
 Are wanton worldly toyes, whose pleasure plucketh downe 
 .Our harts from hope, & hands from works which heauen should win. 
 
And takes vs from the trod, which guides to cndles gayiif , 
 And sets vs in the way, that leadcs to lasty ng payne. 
 
 Htc mundi gloria, qu/t magnipenditur, sacr'ts in litteris,JlosJam dicitur- 
 Vl leue folium, quod vento rapitur, sic vita homincm, liac vita toliitur. 
 
 The pompe of worldly prayse, which worldlinges hold so dcere, 
 
 In holy sacred booke, is likened to a flowre : 
 
 Whose date dooth not conteyne, a vvecke, a nioonth, or ycere. 
 
 But springing nowe, dooth tade againe widiin an houre. 
 
 And as the lightest leafe, with winde about is thrownc, 
 
 So lyght is lyfc of man, and lightly hence is blowne. 
 
 Finis. My Lucke is lossc. 
 
 Beware of had I u-ysl. 
 
 Beware of had I wyst, whose fine bringes care and smart, 
 
 Esteeme of all as they dcserue, and decme as decrad (hou art . 
 
 So shall thy perfect freend enioy his hoped hyre. 
 
 And faythlcsse fawning foe shall misse theffect of his desyre. 
 
 Good wyll shall haue his gayne, and hate shal hcape despite, 
 
 A faithlfsse freend shall finde distrust, and louc shall reape delight. 
 
 Thy selfe shall rest in peace, thy freend shall ioy thy fate. 
 
 Thy foe shall fret at tiiy good happc, and I shall ioy thy state. 
 
 But this my fond aduise may seeme perchaunce but vayne. 
 
 As rather teaching how to lose, then bowe a freend to gayoc. 
 
 But this not my intent, to teache to lindc a freend. 
 
 But safely how to loue and leaue, is all that I entend. 
 
 And yf you prooue in part, and finde my counsell true. 
 
 Then wyshe me well for my good wyll, lis all I craue, adewc. 
 
 Finis. My lucke is losse. 
 
The perfect tryall of a faylJfull freend. 
 
 Not stayed state, but feeble stay. 
 Not costly robes, but bare aray : 
 Not passed wJiiUh, but present want 
 Not lieoped sane, but sclender skant : 
 Not plenties purse, but poore estate. 
 Not happy happe, but fioward fate: 
 Not wyshe at wyll, but want of ioy. 
 Not harts goot; health, but hartes annoy : 
 Not freedomes vse, hut pri'^ons thrall. 
 Not cosily seate, but lowest fall : 
 Not weale I meane, but wretched woe, 
 Dooth truely trye the freend from foe: 
 And nought, but froward fortune proues. 
 Who fawning faines, or simply loues. 
 Finis. Y/oop. 
 
 No pleasure ivithout some payne. 
 
 Sweete were the ioyes, that both might like and last. 
 Strange were the state, exempt from all distresse, 
 Happy the lyfe, that no mishap should tast, 
 Blessed the chaunce, might neuer change successe. 
 Were such a lyfe to leade, or state to proue, 
 Who would not wyshe, that such a lyfe were loue: 
 
 But O the sowry sauce of sweete vnsure. 
 When pleasures flye, and flee with wast of winde. 
 The trustlesse traynes that hoping hartes allure. 
 When sweete delightes doo but allure the minde 
 When care consumes and wastes the wretched wight, 
 Whyle fancy feedes, and drawes of her delight. 
 
 What lyfe were loue, yf loue were free from payne? 
 But O that payne, with pleasure mateht should meete! 
 Why dyd the course of nature so ordayne. 
 That sugred sowre must sause the bitter sweete ? 
 Which sowre from sweete, might any raeanes remoue. 
 What happe, what heauen, what lyfe, were lyke to loue. 
 Finis. E. S. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The title-page to The Paradise of Daintie Deuises 
 proves, that Richard Edwards was considered as its prin- 
 cipal collector, though he had been dead about ten years 
 in 1576 when the lirst edition was published. IJenry 
 Disle, the publisher, states in his Dedication to Lord 
 Compton, that the poems contained in this volume 
 "had been collecied together through the travel of one 
 both of worship and credit, for his own private use, who 
 not long since departed this life." 
 
 After the several editions, which were put forth 
 during the four-and-twcnty following years, it .seems sin- 
 gular that copies should so very rarely occur. In this 
 age therefore, in which the curiosity for old English lite- 
 rature has long been raised, and is every day growing 
 more active, no book can, in the Editor's judgment, better 
 deserve reprinting, more especially since, added to its 
 rarity, it possesses many intrmsic claims to notice. 
 
 'i'he compositions, of which the work consists, are 
 exceedingly valuable as specimens both of language and 
 sentiment. They are for the most part in a style of sim- 
 plicity, which shews that our ancestors, wherever genius 
 Ercdominatcd over mere scholarship, had arrived at a 
 eiter taste, and possessed a more easy flow and more 
 skilful command of words, and such as more nearly ap- 
 proached to modern usage, than is generally supposed. 
 
 The poems, it must be admitted, do not belong to the 
 higher classes; they are of the moral and didactic kind. 
 In their subjects tiicre is too little variety; as they deal 
 very generally in the common-places of ethics; such as 
 the fickleness and caprices of love; the falsehoods and in- 
 stability of friendship; and the vanity of all human plea- 
 b sures. 
 
sures. But many of these are frequently expressed with 
 a vigour, which would do credit to any era. To the eye 
 only used to modern orthography, the redundant or awk- 
 ward spelling: may create an unfavourable deception ; 
 and the occasional change of accentuation produced by 
 the lapse of two centuries and a half may now and then 
 give the effect of an inharmonious line. But these are 
 mere superficial objections, which will soon vanish before 
 the curious and attentive reader. 
 
 There are those, whom it will not be easy to persuade, 
 that a collection of moral precepts, even when enlivened 
 by the harmony of versification, can lay claim to the cha- 
 racter of poetry. It is true that they often cannot; and 
 the distinction of such as can, is indeed very subtle; but 
 siill it may, I think, be ascertained. Poetry may consist 
 either in the thought or the dress. Figurative language 
 may make a dry axiom poetical; or a sublime or pathetic 
 idea may deserve this praise when conveyed in the 
 simplest words. But a mere unornamented position, the 
 abstract result of the understanding, and neither illus- 
 trated by metaphor, nor tinged with sentiment, cannot 
 surely be made poetry by the sole application of rhythm. 
 This seems to have been the opinion of Dr. Joseph War- 
 ton, in the criterion by which he endeavoured tojudge of 
 some of the compositions of Pope. By such a test there 
 are parts of those compositions which must fall. 
 
 By this severe principle I am afraid that no incon- 
 siderable portion of the present collection will also be 
 condemned. But perhaps not very justly. At any rate 
 Time has given it an adventitious merit. 
 
 If my partiality do not mislead me, there is in most 
 of these short pieces some of that indescribable attraction 
 which springs from the colouring of the heart. The 
 charm of imagery is wanting; but the precepts incul- 
 cated seem to flow from the feelings of an overloaded 
 bosom. Perhaps the perfection of poetry is in the union 
 of these qualities, as in the enchanting and most highly- 
 finished Elegy, and Odes, of Gray. But such excellence 
 is not to be expected from the age in which The Paradise 
 of Dainty Denises was produced. 
 
 An account of the principal contributors to this col- 
 lection may be found in the third volume of Warton's 
 
 admirable 
 
admirable History of English Poetry, and in the Thca- 
 Irinn Pnetarum yinglicanorum. Yet it may be proper 
 to cive a catalogue of theiTi here, accompanied by a few 
 short Biographical Notices. 
 
 Catalogue of the IVriters in this Collection, uith Bio- 
 
 grafyliical Notices. 
 
 I. RICHARD EDWARDS. 
 
 To Richard Edwak ds the principal place has been 
 assigned in the original title page, and is certainly due in 
 point of merit, if not in the number of his pieces. 
 
 He was a native of Somersetshire, .and born about 
 152;. He was educated at Oxford, where Wood says 
 he was a scholar of Corpus Christi College. But the 
 author himself informs us in one of his poems printed in 
 fol. 2 of this Collection, that in early life he had some 
 employment about the Court. In 1 547 he was nomi- 
 nated a senior student of Christ-Church in Oxford, then 
 newly founded. In 1561 he was constituted a Gentle- 
 man of the Royal Chapel by Q. Elizabeth, and Master of 
 the Singing Boys there. lie attended the Queen in her 
 visit to Oxford 1566, and was employed to compose a 
 play, called Palamon and Arcite, which was acted before 
 her Majesty in Christ Church Hall. In that year he 
 died, at the age, as it seems, of 43. 
 
 George Turberville, in his Epitaphs, Epigrams, Songs, 
 and Sonnets, 1570, has the following 
 
 Epitaph on Maister Edwards, sometime Maister of the 
 Children of the Chappell, and Gentleman of Lyn- 
 colnes inne of court. 
 
 " Ye lejrntd Muses nine, Ic sacred sisters all. 
 
 Now Uy your cheerful cithrons downe, & to lamenting fall. 
 
 Rent off those garlands greenc, doe lawrell leaves away ; 
 
 Remove the myitill from your lirowes, ami stint on strings to play. 
 
 For he, that led the iauncf, the cheelest of your traine, 
 
 I mean the man that Edwards height, by cruel death is slaine. 
 
 Ye courtiers chaunge your checre, lament in wailelul wise ; 
 
 For now your Orpheus hath resign'd ; in clay his carcas lies. 
 
 O ruth ! he ii berct'i, that, whilst he lived here. 
 
 For poets pen tc passmge wi; could have no English peere. 
 
 His vaine in verse was such, so stately rke his stile, 
 
 Mil fate in forging sugreil songet with cleane tc curious filej 
 
 As all the learned Greckes and Romaines would repine, 
 
 i they did live .igaine, to vewc his verse w.th scornefu.l eine. 
 
 b a Fron 
 
from Plautiis he the palme & learned Terence wan. 
 His writings well declarde the wit that lurcked in the man. 
 &c. Sec. 
 
 Thomas Twyne also, the assistant of Phaer in the 
 translation of Virgil, wrote an epitaph on Edwards's 
 Death, which is printed with Turberville's poems, be- 
 ginning 
 
 " If teares could tell my thought," &c. 
 
 Meres, in his Wit's Treasury, 1598, praises Edwards 
 as " one of the best for comedy." * Puttenham had 
 given him the same commendation. 
 
 Warton says that the most poetical of Edwards's pro- 
 ductions in the present Collection is his Description of 
 May (see fol. 1.) If rural imagery constitute the pri- 
 mary ingredient in poetry, it is so. But in all the 
 various and indefinable charms, which exhibit themselves 
 in the happier efforts of this inspired art, the celebrated 
 Song on Terence's apothegm of Amantium ira arnoris 
 redintegratio est, is by far superior to it, and indeed, 
 without reference to the age which produced it, among 
 the most beautiful morceaus of our language. It is to be 
 found at fol. 42, and begins with these lines : 
 
 ** In going to my naked bed, a-j one that would have slept, 
 I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept j 
 She sighed sore, Sc sang full sore, to bring the babe to rest; 
 That would not rest, but cried still in sucking at her breast : 
 She was full weaiy of her watch, & greeved with her child j 
 She rocked it, & rated it, until on her it smil'd : 
 Then did she say, now haue I found the proverb true to proove ; 
 The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love." 
 &c. &c. 
 
 The happiness of the illustration, the facility, elegance, 
 and tenderness of the language, and the exquisite turn 
 of the whole, are above commendation; and shew to 
 what occasional polish and refinement our literature even 
 then had arrived. Yet has the treasure which this gem 
 adorned lain buried and inaccessible, except to a few 
 curious collectors, for at least a century and an half. 
 
 Among the Cotton MSS. in the British Museum are 
 four poems by Edwards, one of which is addressed to 
 some Court-Beauties of his time, t 
 
 • SeeCENS.LiT. Vol. IX. p, 49. 
 ■f See Nuga Antiqua, Vol. II. p. 392, Edit. 1804. 
 
 A part 
 
A part of his song /// commendation of Miftir, (see 
 p. 55) is cited by Shakspcarc in Romeo and Juliet, 
 Act iv. so. 3. 
 
 2. LORD VAUX. 
 
 Lord Vaux's pieces exceed in number even those of 
 Edwards, and are second only to his in merit. But it is 
 now ascertained that the writer of them was not Nicholas 
 first Lord Vaux, (who died May 14, 1,524, only seven- 
 teen days after he was advanced to the peerage) but Tho- 
 mas, second Lord Vau;, his son, who it appears was 
 dead in the +th and 5lh of Philip and Mary; for on the 
 20th January of that year his son and heir IVilliam, 
 third Lord Vaux, took his seat in the House of Peers. 
 Ritson and others have suggested that this last (who, ac- 
 cording to Dr. Percy, died in 159,5) was a joint contributor 
 with his father to the present Collection. The words 
 " Lord V^aux the elder," appended to the back of the 
 title of the edition of i 580 (see fol. 90) seem however to 
 fix the claim on Lord Thomas, the second Peer. 
 
 Thomas, second Lord Vaux, was one of those who 
 attended Cardinal Wolsey, on his embassy in 19 Hen. 
 Vni. between the Emperor, King Henry, and King 
 Francis of France. He took his seat in the House of 
 Peers in 22 Hen. VIH. and two years afterwards waited 
 on the King to Calais, and thence to Boulogne. He was 
 one of those who were honoured with the Order of the 
 Bath, at the Coronation of Q. Anne Bolcyne. He was 
 also Captain of the Isle of Jersey, which he surrendered 
 in 28 Hen. VHL * He was born in 1510, and was 
 therefore scarcely middle-aged at his death. 
 
 George 
 
 • Will'iim Vaux of Harrowden in Northamptonshire, where his famity had 
 long been tcated, (dejiving their descent from RolKrt dc Vaux, a great man in 
 the North of England, in the days of IC. Stephi-n and K. Hen. II. who founded 
 the Priory of Lincrcost, Co. Cumb.) lost every thing in the contest between 
 the Hoa:cs of York and Lancaster for his adherence to K. Hen. VI. When 
 Hen. VII. obtained the crown, he made restitution and ample amends to his 
 son Nicholas abovemenlioned, whi, at has been already i.iid, a few days 
 before his death was elevated to the peerage. This Nicholas mjtrieil ist. 
 Eliail)elh daughur and heir of Henry Lord Fitjhugh (widow of Sir William 
 
 Parr, 
 
George Gascoigne, in his Panegyric on English Poets, 
 1575, combines him with Lord Suriy: and Puttenham, 
 in his "Arte of Knglish Ko>;sie," says that his Lordship's 
 " commendation lay chiefly in the facihty of his metre, 
 and the aptness of his descriptions, such as he takes upon 
 him to make, namely in sundry of his songs, wherein he 
 sheweih the counterfeit action very lively and pleasantly." 
 
 This Peer's " Diity or Sonnet, made in the time of 
 the noble Q. Mary, representing the Image of Death," 
 and vulgarly but erroneously said to have been composed 
 on his death-bed, and also his "Assault of Cupid upon 
 the fort in which the Lover's heart lay wounded," first 
 appeared in loitell's Miscellany, 1557, and may be 
 found reprinted by Percy, Ellis, and Anderson. 
 
 In the first edition of this Collection are thirteen 
 poems of this noble author. Almost all of them deserve 
 praise for an easy flow of unaffected sentiment, which 
 seems to spring from the fulness of a heart, sick of the 
 bustle of a turbulent, inconstant, and treacherous world. 
 He, who from a lofty station has had an opportunity of 
 viewing distmctly the incessant and unsuspected intrigues 
 of mankind, who has seen that every thing is carried by 
 secret and corrupt means, and that neither innocence 
 can rationally hope for security, nor merit for reward or 
 promotion, turns away with sickness and horror from a 
 
 Parr, Kt.) by whom he had only three daughters. He married idly Anne 
 daughter of Thomas Greene, Esq. of Greene's Norton, Co. Northampt. by 
 whom he had a younger son Willuim, three daughiers, and his son and heir, 
 
 Thomas, second Lc J Faux, the pcet, who married Elizabeth, daughter 
 and heit of Sir Thomas Cheney of Irtlingburgh, Co. Northampt. by whom 
 iie had two daughters, a younger son Nicholas, and his son and heir, 
 
 William, third LuiJ Vaux, married first Elizabeth daughter and heir of 
 John Beaumont of Grace-Dieu, Co. Leic. Esq. Master of the Rol s, by whom 
 he had a son Henry, who died in his lifetime; and three daughters. He mar- 
 ried secondly Mary, daughter of John Tresham of Rushton, Co. Northampt. 
 Esq. and by her he had two daughters, and two younger sons, Edward, and Sir 
 Ambrose Vaux, Kt, besides his eldest son, 
 
 George Fuux, who died in his father's lifetime, having married Eliza- 
 beth (laughter of Sir Juhn Roper of Linsted, Co. K-ent (afterwards Lord Teyn- 
 ham) by whom he had three daughters; and two younger sons, William and 
 Henry, besides hi^ sun and heir, 
 
 Edwar D, who succeeded his grandfather as fourth Lord Faux, and having 
 married Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Howard, Ea,l of Suffolk, widow of 
 William Knowlys, Earl of Banbury, died without lawful issue in 1661, on 
 which the title liecame extinct. It is from this Countess that the present 
 Claimant to the Earldom of Banbury derives his descent. 
 
 world 
 
world of such dangerous activity, and unavailing strugclcs. 
 He seeks for peace in the depths of solitude; and soolhes 
 his uneasiness with the innocent conversation of trees 
 and streams. If such an one have the talents for compo- 
 sition, and the generous wish lo teach others by his wis- 
 dom, his writings seldom fail to possess superemincnt at- 
 traction. When an awful sense of religion gives still 
 richer hues to the mind, it scarcely ever is deficient in 
 pathos, and often rises to sublimity. Of the former class 
 IS the poem " Of a contented mind," at fol. So; of the 
 latter, that " Of the instability of youth," at fol. ii. 
 
 I insert the two pieces of Lord Vaux from the Collec- 
 tion already mentioned, for the sake of juxta-position. 
 
 The Aged Lover renounceth love. 
 
 [From Tottill's Miscillany.] 
 
 " I lothc that I did love, in youth that I thought swete, 
 A time requires: for my behove methinks they arc not mete. 
 My lustes they do me leave, my tansies all arc fled j 
 And Uact ot time beginnes to weave gray hearts upon my hed. 
 For age with stealing steppes hath clawde me with his crouche^ 
 And lusty lite • away she leapes, as there had bene none such. 
 My Muse doth not delight me as she dyd before. 
 My hand fe pen are not in plight, as they have been of yore. 
 For reason me denyes this youthful idle ryme. 
 And day by day to me she crycs, leave off" these toyes in tyme. 
 The wrinkles in my brow, the furrows in my face. 
 Say lyngring age will lodge him now, where youth must geue him place* 
 The Harbinger of Death to me I see him ride, 
 The cough, the cold, the gasping t)reath, doth byd mc to provyde 
 A picltax & a spade, & eke a shrowding shete, 
 A house of clay for to be ma ie for such a guest most mete. 
 Methinks I heare the clarke that knoles tlie carel'ul knell ; 
 And bids me leave my wot'uU warke ere nature me compell. 
 My keepers knit the knot, that youth doth laugh to scorne. 
 Of me that cleane shall be forgot, as I had not been borne. 
 Thus must I youth geve up, whose barlge I long did wcarcj 
 To them I yelde the wanton cup, that better may it beare. 
 Lo, heic the bare hed skull, by whose baMe signe I know, 
 That stouping age away shall pull, which youthfull yercsdid sowe. 
 For Beautt.e with hrr band these croked care« hath wrought, 
 And shipped me unto the land, from whence 1 fyrstwas brought. 
 And ye th.ll bydc behinde, have ye none other trust, 
 As ye of claye were cast by kynd, so shall ye waste lo dust." 
 
 • Youth in Percy. 
 
 Tht 
 
The assaulte of Cvp'tde 7/pon the fort, where the Lover's 
 heart lay uouiided, and how she was taken. 
 
 [from the same.] 
 
 " When Cupide scaled fyrst the fort, wherein my heart lay wounded sore, 
 
 The batry was of such a sort, that I must yelde or dye therfore. 
 
 There saw I love upon the wall, how he his banner dyd display, 
 
 Alarme, Alarme, he 'gan to call, & bade his souldiours kepe aray. 
 
 The armes the which that Cupide bare, weie pearced hearts with teares besprent, 
 
 In silver & sable to declare the sted/ast love he alwayes ment. 
 
 There might you see his band all drest, in colours like to white & black. 
 
 With powder & with pellets prest, to bring the fort to spoyle & sacke. 
 
 Good. Will, tlie maister of the shot, stoode in the rampire brave & proude, 
 
 For spence of powder, he spared not, Assaulte ! Assaulte ! to crye aloude. 
 
 There myght you heare the cannon's roar ; each peice discharged a lover's loke, 
 
 Which had the power to rent, & tore in any place whereas they loke. 
 
 And even with the trumpets sowne the scaling ladders were upset, 
 
 And Beautie walked up & downe, with bow in hand & arrowes whet. 
 
 Then first Desire began to scale, & shrowded him under hiS targe. 
 
 As one the worthiest of them all, & aptest for to give the charge. 
 
 Then pushed souldiers with their pykes, & holbarders with handy strokes ; 
 
 The hargabushe infleshe it lightes, & dims the aire with mystie smokes. 
 
 And as it is now souldieis use, v* hen shot & powder gins to want, 
 
 I hanged up my flaggc of truce, & pleaded lor my lyves graunt. 
 
 When F.msy thus had made her breache, & Beautie entred with her ban d, 
 
 With bag & baggage, sely wretch, I yelded into Beautie's hand. 
 
 Then Beautie bade to blowe retrete, & every souldiour to retire. 
 
 And Mercy .lyW'i with spedeto set me captive bound as prisoner. 
 
 Madame, quoth I, sith that this day hath served you at all assayes, 
 
 I yeld to you without delay here of the foi tresse all the kayes. 
 
 And sith that I have ben the maike, at whom you shot at with your eye, 
 
 Nedes must you with your handy workc, or salue my sore, or let me dye." 
 
 3. EDWARD VERE, EARL OF OXFORD. 
 
 Edward Vere, T7th Earl of 0.\ford, only son of John, 
 16th Earl, who died 1563, by his second wife Margaret 
 daughter of John Golding, Esq. could not have been 
 born earlier than 1540, or 1541, because his elder half 
 sister Katherine, widow of Edward Lord Windsor, died 
 in Jan. 1599, at the age of 60 * Lord Orford therefore 
 must mistf.ke in saying that he lived to be a very aged 
 man, as he died June 24, 1604, when he could little have 
 exceeded 60. 
 
 In his youth he travelled into Italy, and as Stowe re- 
 
 * See her epitaph at Tarbick, Co. Warw. Coll. Nob. Fam. 263, &c. 
 
 lates. 
 
lates, * was the first that brought cnibroidcrcd gloves 
 and perfumes into England, and presenting the Queen 
 with a pair of the fortrier, she was so pleased with them, 
 as to be drawn with them in one of her portraits. He 
 had the degree of Master of Arts conferred on him Dec. 
 6, 1566. 
 
 In 1 57 1 he was one of the challengers in a celebrated 
 Tournament, and in another, in 1580, in which her 
 Majesty conferred the prize on him. 
 
 About this latter period he had the rencounter in the 
 Tennis Court with Sir Philip Sydney, related in the Me- 
 moir of Sir Philip in the Bibliographer, I. 84, which 
 does not much redound to his Lordship's honour. 
 
 In 1585 he was the chief of those who embarked with 
 the Earl of I^eicesler for the relief of the States of Holland 
 and Zealand. 
 
 In 1586 he sat as Lord Great Chamberlain of England 
 on the trial of Mary Q. of Scots. In 1588 he hirccl and 
 fitted out ships at his own charge against the Spanish 
 Armada. In 1 sSg, he sat on the trial of Philip Howard, 
 Earl of Arundel ; and in i6oi, on the trials of the Earls 
 of Essex, and Southampton. 
 
 One of the most remarkable events of his life was his 
 cruel usage of his first wife, Anne, daughter of the famous 
 WilliamCeeil, Lord Burleigh, in revenge for the part 
 acted by that statesman against Thomas Duke of Nor- 
 folk, for whom he had a warm friendship, f Camden 
 says that having vainly interceded with his father- in-law 
 for the Duke's life, he grew so incensed that he vowed 
 revenge against the daughter, and " not only forsnok her 
 bed, but sold and consumed that great inheritance de- 
 scended to him from his ancestors." In answer to this, 
 Collins says that the estate descended to his son. It is 
 probable however it was much impaired, as Arthur Wil- 
 son I agrees with Camden ; and something of the same 
 kind may be inferred from a letter in Win wood's Me- 
 morials, III. 423. § 
 
 f They were first couiiiis, the Diikc's motlicr bcin^ Frances Vcre, the 
 Earl'l aunt. 
 
 { See Memoirs oiK. Jimes's Tceri, p, 3, 494, &c. § Ibid 3. 
 
 The 
 
The Earl was buried at Hackney,* July 6, 1604. 
 
 His character seems to have been marked with haughti- 
 ness, vanity, and affectation. He aped Italian dresses, 
 and was called the Mirrour of Tuscaiiisiyio. t His 
 rank however, and his illustrious family commanded 
 the respect of a large portion of the literary world; and 
 among his eulogists, were Watson, Lily, Gelding, 
 Munday, Greene, Lock, and Spenser, j 
 
 Webbe says, that in the rare devises of poetry, he may 
 challenge to himself the title of the most excellent among 
 the rest. Puttenham, and Meres, have ranked him 
 among the best for comedy. Scattered pieces of his are 
 found in Breton's Bower of Delights, 1597 ; Sydney's 
 Astrophel and Stella, 1591; the Phoenix Nest, 1593; 
 and England's Helicon, i6oo, besides the modern collec- 
 tions of Percy and Ellis, and the last edition of Lord Or- 
 ford's Works. Mr. Park also, in the Royal and Noble 
 Authors, has drawn forth a dedicatory specimen, from 
 Bedingfield's translation of Cardanus Comfort, 1576. § 
 
 In the specimens of Lord Oxford's poetry, which this 
 collection contains, there appear the same traits, as are 
 said to have been exhibited in his character. They are 
 
 * Lysons*s Environs, II. 485.— His second Countess was buried there Jan. 3, 
 1612-13. JhiJ. Lysons, under Lambeth, Vol. I. p. 297, gives the burial on 
 Feb. 22, 1558-9 of ** my Lady of Oxford," whom he supposes to be Anne 
 wife of John Vere Earl of Oxford, and daughter of Thomas Howard, Duke 
 of Norfolk. I find such a marriage in the Howard pedigree by Dugdale and 
 Collins — but not in the Vere pedigree. The names of the wives of John Vere, 
 Earl of Oxford, were Doiothy Nevile and Margaret Golding. 
 
 Earl Edward, had a sister of the whole blood married to Peregrine Bertie, 
 Lord WiUoughby of Eresby. His own issue were three daughters by his first 
 wife, Anne Cecil, who died 1588 ; and an only son and heir by his second wife, 
 Elizabeth Trentham. These were, 1. Lady Elizabeth, born 1575, mairied 
 1594 to William Stanley Earl of Derby. 2. Lady Bridget, born 1584, married 
 ta Francis Lord Norreys, afterwards created Earl of Berkshire. 3. Lady Susan, 
 born 1587, married to Philip Herbert, Earl of Montgomery and Pembroke. 
 H^nry, only son and heir, born 1592, became 18th Earl of Oxford ; and died 
 1625, without issue, aged 33. His cousin and heir male Robert Vere, grand- 
 son of Aubrey Vere, younger brother of John, 16th Earl, (the poet's lather) 
 succeeded alter some dispute us 19th Earl ofOxford, and died 1632, leaving an 
 only son, Aubrey, 20th and last Eail, who died in March 1702-3, aged about 
 78. But when Earl Robert was admitted to the Earldom, a severe litigation 
 toak place for the hereditaiy office of Lord Great Chamberlain between the 
 Cauntess of Derby, Earl Henry's eldest sister of the half blood, and Robert 
 Lard WiUoughby, the son of his aunt Mary, who was of the whole blood j and 
 ill consequence of the absurd rule of law on that point, it was determined in 
 favour of the latter. 
 
 t See Bibliogr I. 83— and Todd's Life of Spenser, p. xliii. 
 t Park's Royal and Noble Authors, 11. ijo. § Ibid. 122. 
 
 generally 
 
generally affected, full of conceit and antilhcsi?, and ol)- 
 scure. They have none of the aiiraclions and graces, 
 which recommend those of Lord Vaux. Dr. IVrey oh- 
 serves, that " perhaps it is no injury to his memory thai 
 few of his compositions arc preserved for the inspection 
 of impartial posterity." This elegant critic however has 
 given a poem, which deserves a higher character. It is 
 copied from Breton's Bow er nf Delights,* 1597 — and 
 is entitled Fancy and Desire. In justice to this 
 noble Peer, I caimol omit to give it a place. 
 
 Fancy and Desire. 
 
 " Come hither, shepherd's swayne. ' Sir, wh.it do you require ?' 
 
 I pray thee, shew to me th) name. ' My name is Food Desirf. 
 
 When wert thou bom, Desire ? ' In pompe & prime of May." 
 
 By whom, sweet boy, wert thou beg jI ? ' By fond Cjnceit, men say." 
 
 Tell me, who was thy nurse .' ' Fresh youth in sugted joy.' 
 
 What was thy meat & daily food ? ' Sad sighs with great annoy.' 
 
 What hadit thou then to drink? ' Unsavoury lover's tears." 
 
 What cradle wert thuu rocked in ? « In hope devoid of fears.' 
 
 What luU'd ihce then asleep ? • Sweet speech, which likes me best." 
 
 Tell me, where is thy dwelling place ? ' In gentle hai tes I rest.' 
 
 What thing doth please thee most ? • To gaze on bcaity still." 
 
 Whom dost thou think to be thy foe? ' Disdain of my good will.' 
 
 Doth company displease? ' Yes, surely, many one.' 
 
 Where doth Desire delight to live ? ' He loves to live alone.' 
 
 Doth cither tyme or age bring him unto decaye ? 
 
 ' No, no. Desire both lives & dies a thousand times a daye.' 
 
 Then, fond Desire, faiewclle, thou art no mate for mce, 
 
 1 should be lotlic, methiuks, to dwell with such a one as thee." 
 
 In England's Parnassus, 1600, are three extracts from 
 some imknown poem or poems of this Earl. Two arc 
 given in the Theatr. Poet.Angl. 1800. The third fol- 
 lows. 
 
 " What plague is greater than the griefc o( minde ? 
 The griefc of minde that eates in every vaine: 
 In every vainc that leaves such clods behinde, 
 Such clods t)chinde as breedc such bitter paine. 
 So bitter paine that notie shall ever 6nde, 
 What I'lague is greater t^an the griei'e of minde?" 
 
 Among Rawlinson's MSS. in the Bodleian library are 
 " verses made by the Earle of Oxforde and Mrs. Ann 
 Vavesor." 
 
 * There must have l-cen an earlier edition of the liotver of Deiigbti than 
 that of 1557; for Breton, \n Wis Ptl^image to Parad.te, 1592, mentions it, 
 with a prolcit that it was dene without his knowlcilge, and that then were in 
 it, many things of other men's, niinjjled wiih lew of his own. Sec Crm. 
 Lil. II. XiS. 
 
 c 2 4. William 
 
4- WILLIAM HUNNIS. 
 
 This poet was a Gentleman of the Chapel Royal under 
 K. Edw. VI. and afterwards Master of the Boys of 
 Q. Elizabeth's Chapel Royal. He had a grant of arms 
 in 1568. He translated Certain of the Psahns of Da- 
 vid into English Metre, 1550, 8vo. — and these were 
 afterwards published in conjunction with the translations 
 of the Psalms by T. Sternhold, Sir T. Wyat, and John 
 Hall, in quarto. But they had not the good fortune to 
 be incorporated into Hopkins's Collection.* He was 
 also author of -^ Hyve full oj Hunnye, 1578, 410. and 
 8vo. — containing the whole book of Genesis in English 
 rhyme— Seven sobs of a sorroufull soule for sinne, 
 1585, i597» 1615, 1629, 24". and also at Edinburgh, 
 1621, 12°. — containing seven psalms of David, called the 
 Penitential; whereunto is annexed his Handfull of Honi- 
 suckles, containing the Poor Widow's Mite; a dialogue 
 between Christ and a Sinner, and diverse godly and 
 pithy Ditties, with a Christian Confession of and to the 
 Trinity. " But his honey-suckles and his honey," says 
 Warton, " are now no longer delicious." Warton adds, 
 that " metre was now become the vehicle of enthusiasm, 
 and the Puritans seem to have appropriated it to them- 
 selves in opposition to our service, which was in prose. "f 
 
 Some of Hunnis's pieces are pretty at least; and dis- 
 cover such a simplicity of sentiment, ease of language, 
 and flow of verse, as justly entitle them to commendation. 
 The poem on " No pains comparable to love," at f. 63, 
 and that " On the fruits of fained frendes, at f. 63, 
 are pleasing; and the latter in particular is very skilfully 
 turned, especially at the close. That in which " He 
 repenlelh his folly,'" at f. 57, might, with the least alte- 
 ration, be made to appear like a love-song of later ages. 
 His verses at p. 96 are cited by Webbe as a witty ditty. 
 
 5. FRANCIS KINWELMERSH. 
 
 Very little is known of this author, or rather translator. 
 
 He was a Member of Gray's Inn, and he and his brother 
 
 • See a minute and curious account of the successive earlv editions of'tiie 
 
 Psalms of Sternhold and Hopkins, by Mr. Haslewood, in Ccns. Lu. X. j.. 
 
 t History of English tVxtry, 111. iSi. 
 
 Anthony 
 
Anthony were gentlemen of Essex, had the character of 
 being noted poets of their time; and were the intimate 
 friends of George Gascoignc. In conjunction wiih this 
 poet, Francis Kinwclniersh translated the Jocasta of 
 Euripides; and VVarton commends the Ode to Concord 
 by him, as exhibiting great elegance of expression and 
 versification. It is an original insertion, not being 
 in Euripides. Warton has transcribed it into his His- 
 tory, Vol. III. p. 374. It strikes rne that the productions 
 of this author, in the present Collection, are inferior in 
 general to those of the contributors already named. The 
 stanzas On Learning, at f. 14, are pretty. 
 
 6. JASl'El^ HKYWOOD. 
 
 Jasper Heywood, son of John Hcywood the Epi- 
 grammatist, (for whom see Ci.NS. Lit. IX. ii-',) was 
 born about 1,5 j5, in London; and sunt to Oxford at 
 twelve years of age in 1547, where he took the degree of 
 A. M. 155^; and was then elected Probationer- Fellow 
 of Merton College, which he retained five years. At 
 this lime he carritd away the palm in all disputations at 
 home, and in the public schools. His lively and face- 
 tious disposition, which he probably inherited from his 
 father, at length urged him into several acts of indis- 
 cretion and wildness, which rendered it prudent for him 
 to quit his fellowship, 1.558, a step to which similar ir- 
 regularities drove his brother Ellis. " He exercised," 
 says Warton " the office of Christmas Prince, or Lord 
 of^ Misrule, to his college; and seems to have given 
 offence by suffering the levities and jocularities of that 
 character to mix with his life and general conversation."*^ 
 He was however soon afterwards appointed Fellow of All 
 Soul's College. But not satisfied with the change of the 
 national religion, he within four years left England, and 
 entered himself in 1562 into the society of the Jesuits at 
 Home. Here he spent two years in the study of divinity, 
 and then was sent to Dilling in Switzerland, where he 
 continued about seventeen years in explaining and dis- 
 
 • Hiiiory of Engliih Poetry, HI. jSS. 
 
 cussing 
 
cussing controverted questions among iliose he called 
 heretics, daring which he was promoted to the degree of 
 Doctor of Divinity and of the four vows. At length 
 Pope Gregory XIII. sent him in 1581 a missionary to 
 England. Here he settled in London, as Chief or Pro- 
 vincial of the Jesuits in England. It was remarked that 
 he now kept manv men, horses, and coaches, aad that 
 his port and carriage were more like a Baron, than a 
 priest. In 1584, he was ordered back to France, where when 
 he was about to land in Normandy, he was driven back 
 by contrary winds on the English shore, taken, examined, 
 and, as some say, imprisoned, but released again by the 
 interest of the Earl of Warwick. He immediately re- 
 tired to Naples, where he became known to that zealous 
 Catholic, John Pitts. He died at Naples, Jan. 9, 1598, 
 aged 63. He is said to have been an accurate critic in the 
 Hebrew language. He translated the Hercules Furens, 
 Thyesles, and Troas, in the Translatiem of Seneca's 
 Ten Tragedies, 1581, 4to. * The first of these was first 
 printed in London, 1561, izmo. and dedicated to Wil- 
 liam Herbert, Earl of Pembroke. The Hercvlcs Furens 
 was first printed separately by Berthelette, 1560, i2mo. 
 The Troas was first printed in 1560. 
 
 There is no particular merit in Hey wood's pieces in 
 this Collection. 
 
 7. RICHARD HILL. 
 A writer, of whom nothing is known. One of this 
 name is mentioned by Webbe. Some of the poems sup • 
 posed to belong to this author have only the initials 
 R. H. and one of them I. H.f which Ritson thinks a 
 mere error for R. H. Wood seems to attribute them to 
 the name of Hall — but no such name is elsewhere to be 
 discovered. They none of them are above mediocrity. 
 Yet Hyll and Sand are both spoken of by Webbe, for 
 their abundant skill in many pretty and learned works. 
 Discourse of English Poetrie, 1586. 
 
 * See Walton's Hist. E. P. III. 382, 386, and Cens. Lit. IX. 386, 
 j88, 39*2. 
 
 f Perhaps John Hall. 
 
 8. D. 
 
8. D. SAND. 
 Perhaps Dr. Sands. The only author of this name and 
 period at pnscni known, was Dr Edvvyii Sandys, Arch- 
 bishop of York, who was of St. John's College, Cam- 
 bridge, and look the degree of D. D. 1,549; was ap- 
 pointed Bishop of VVorce>ter, 1559, ''^ London, 1570, 
 and Archbishop of York, 1576. Ide died Aug. 8, 1588. 
 I know not if he was ever suspected of w riling verses. 
 The initials K. S. arc probably of the satne person ; and 
 agree with the supposition of Edwyn Sandys. Sec f. i, 
 17, 20, 23, 43- 
 
 9. M. BEW. 
 
 A writer as little known as Hill. Sec f. 55. The 
 initials M. B. at f. 46, f. 6x, f. 65 and f. 74, are proba- 
 bly of the same. 
 
 10. M. THORN. 
 
 As unknown as Hill, or Bew. Sec f. 54. The same 
 initials, M.T. occur at f. 15. 
 
 II. T. MARSHALL. 
 The initials of this name are found at f. 84, to the 
 poem entitled, " Being in trouble, lie wrileth thus." 
 
 12. YLOOP. 
 This is conjectured to be for Pooly, read backwards. 
 See sign. A iiii, and f. 88. Pooley is a name that occurs 
 in Yates's tripartite collection of poems, printed in 1582. 
 
 13. F. G. 
 These initials are supposed to belong to Fulkc Grcvile, 
 afterwards Lord Brooke. Sec f. 22. 
 
 14. R. D. 
 Perhaps Robert Dillinglon, who has commendatory 
 
 verses 
 
verses prefixed to Lewkenor's Resolved Genlleman, 
 1599. * See f. 9. 
 
 15- M.D. 
 Perhaps the same — or Mr. Dyer; or Mr. Dolman. 
 See f. 20. 
 
 16. E. S. 
 
 See D. Sand. See Sign. A iiij and f. 30, 31, 47, 67. 
 Yet possibly Edmund Spenser, who was about twenty- 
 three in the year 1576. 
 
 17. F. M. 
 Remains undeciphered.f See f. 21, 51. 
 
 18. R. L. 
 
 With these initials (see f. 83) were published poems, 
 entitled Diella — Ceriaine Sonnets adjoyned to the amo- 
 rous poem of Dom Diego & Gineura. By R L. Gen- 
 tleman. Printed for Henry Olney, 1596, 410. See 
 Ritson Bibl. Poet. 265. The same mitials accompany a 
 sonnet on Drayton's Matilda, 1594. 
 
 19. M. S. 
 
 These initials occur in the edition of 1580, &c. Ritson 
 supposes they may designate Mr. Sackville (Lord Buck- 
 hurst and Earl of Dorset). But as he had then long been 
 ennobled, this is improbable. 
 
 20 M.CANDISH. 
 Richard Candish, a learned man of this time, a native 
 of Sufl'olk, flourished about 1556 — but he was a mathe- 
 matician and translated Euclid's Geometry into English. 
 It is more likely to have been the celebrated navigator, f 
 
 * The same initsals appear at the end of " an Epitaph vpon the death of 
 Richard Price, E-quier; 1586 (Cens. Lit. Vol. VII. p. 130) a.id to some 
 verses »n a rare tract containing ** a true report of the general embarrement of all 
 English Shippes," &c. printed by Wolf , ij?;, i6mo. 
 
 .f- He appears to be author of a piece at t. 21, and four others on the cardi- 
 nal virtues, the initials being affixed to the last. 
 
 J Robert Parke dedicated his translation fiom the Spanish of " Ihe Historic 
 if the great and mightie kingdome of China, printed by H'olfe, Ij88, "to the 
 tight worshipttiU and famous Gentleman M. Thomas Candish, Esquire, the 
 Navigator." 
 
 21. 
 
2T. IJ. D. 
 
 Author of thi; poem On the deatli of Master Jolin 
 Barnahe, in tlic Appendix. 
 
 22. A. BOURCIIER. 
 Arthur Bourcher is author of a single poem in the Ap- 
 pendix, f. 1 10. He published a Fable of ^sop versified, 
 1566, and has a poem to the Reader before Whitney's 
 Emblems. 
 
 23. G. GASKE. 
 Mr. Park thinks this was no other than George Gas- 
 coigne. He has only one poem in the Appendix. Sec 
 f. 105. 
 
 24. LODOWICK LLOYD. 
 
 Lodowick Lloyd, Esq. was a person eminent in the 
 Court of Q. Elizabeth ; and Serjeant at Arms to that 
 Queen. He wrote The Pilgrimage of' Princes,^' iS73> 
 1586, 4to. Hi/aria, a complimentary poem to K.James, 
 1607 — The Consent of Time, 1590, 4to. — The Jirst 
 part of the Diall of Dates; containing ^(20 Romane 
 triumphes, 1590, &e.4to. — The TrifjUcitie ofTriumphes, 
 1591. 4to. — The Stratagem's of Jerusalem, 1602, 
 4to. — Divers laws, 1602 — The Practice of Policy, 
 1604, 4'o- — Linceits Spectacles, 1607, 410. — and an 
 English poem prefixed to Twyne's Translation of 
 Humphrey Lloyds Breviary of Brytayne, 1573, 8vo. 
 He has also commendatory verses before Blandy's 
 Castle, or Picture of Policy, 1580. He composed "A 
 Dittie to the tune of VVelshe Svdanenn made tD the 
 Queenes Maj. Eliz." t His Epitaph on Sir Edward 
 Saunders is in the Appendix. 
 
 25. BARNABE KICHE. 
 Of this writer Mr. Haslewoou has furnished mc 
 with the following account. — This " Gentleman," 
 however numerous his pieces, appears to have been un- 
 
 ■ Revived !iy R. C. M. A. 16; j, 4to. 
 t W.ll be f.unl in British B.b:i<.gr.i|.hcr,Vol. 1. An. Pilgrimage oCPrinces. 
 
 u noticed 
 
noticed hy contemporary writers, and scarcely known to 
 the modern ones. Amidst the pile of lumber ransacked 
 by Rilson, not a single article afforded his name for pre- 
 servation. The earliest piece I have seen is entitled " A 
 right excellent and pleasant Dialogue letweneMercvry 
 and an. English Souldier; conlayning his supplication 
 to Mars; Beivtijied with sundry ivortliy Histories, rare 
 inuentions andpolilike devises," if^j^., ; 2mo- Prefixed are 
 commendatory verses hy G. Argal and John Bettes, Gent, 
 and a dialogue in metre between the author and his 
 book. — '^ Allarmc to England foreshtwiiig uhat perilles 
 are procured ivliere the people Hue iiitliout regard of 
 ]\larliall laue," &c. * 1578, dedicated to Syr Christo- 
 pher Hation, Knight. An address to the reader, says, 
 " Such is the delicacie of our readers at this time, that 
 there are none may be alovved of to write, but such as 
 haue bene trained at schoole with Pallas, or at the last 
 haue bene fostered vp with the Muses, and for my parte 
 (without vaunt be it spoken) I haue bene a irauayier, I 
 haue savled in Grauesende barge as farre as Billings gale, 
 haue trauayled from Buekelers bery to Basinostocke, 1 
 haue gone from S. Pankeridge church to Kentish tovi-nc 
 by lande, where I was comi)rcd with many hedges, 
 ditches, and other slippery bankes, but yet I could neuer 
 come to those learned bankes of Helicon, neither was I 
 neuer able to scale Parnassus hyl, although I haue tra- 
 iiailed ouer Gaddes hyll in Kente, and that sundrie tymes 
 and often." This piece was commended in prose by 
 Barnaby Gopge, and in verse by Lodowick Flood fLloydJ, 
 Thomas Churchyard, S. Strange, and 'J'homas Lupton, 
 with 136 lines from " the authour to the reader why 
 he tooke in hand to write this booke." — " The siraunge 
 and iionderfull adventures of Do Simonides a genlil- 
 man Spanyarde : contenyng verie pleasaunte discourse, 
 gathered fur the recreation as well of our noble yong 
 Qcniilnien, as our honourable courtly Ladies," 158 1. 
 Prefixed are verses by Thomas Lodge and Richard Wal- 
 ley the primer. There afterwards appeared " The scconde 
 Tome of the Trauailes and ylduentures of Don Simoni- 
 des, entei laced with varielie of Historie, wherein the 
 curteous and not curious reader mate find matters so 
 
 • Herbert, 1079. 
 
 leveled 
 
leveled Oi may suffice !o please all humount. for ma- 
 liirn/t'die man, liii'ij shall not neetle to snil'f to /hiticcra, 
 for here then shall findc pleasauvt exptihiiies. For 
 wcrrle inyndes, sober discourses to pieiienl excessc. 
 Fur denoute, ivholesome lesmns to (onjinne their contem- 
 placio. For all sortes suck delighti-s as neither alow 
 oj' djtiaunce nor discommcnde hniic^t pleasure " Wal- 
 Icy, :584 — " The famous ilystorji of Herodotus,* Sec. 
 ij undouijiedly ihc produdion of this writer. — ' ,1 path- 
 way lo Mditary practise, 8cc.t 1.5^7 — In i593heap|iears 
 to havcwrittcn a tract on the recent death of the uiiforiu- 
 iialc Green, then a poi)ular subject. % — // looking glass 
 for Ireland, i^^q§ —Favltes, Faults, and nothing else 
 but Favltes. At London, printed for Jeffrey Choiieton, 
 and are to be sold at the great Korth doore of Paules 
 Church. 1606. 4to. — Opinions deified, &c. 1613. || — yl 
 new Description of Ireland : wherein is described the 
 disposition of the Irish, &c. 161c — A true and a kinde 
 excv>e written in defence of that booke intituled a Newe 
 Description of Ireland, 1612. — The Honeslie of this 
 age. Proouing by good circumstance, that the world 
 was neuer honest till now. By Barnabee Rych. Gentle- 
 man, seruant to the Kings most excellent ]\laiestie, 
 Malui me diuitem esse quum vocari. Printed at Lon- 
 don for T. A. 1614, 4<<'>. Again, 1615, and at Edin- 
 burgh, t)y Andro Hart. Ihis piece Warton describes as 
 "a curious picture of the times."** — My Ladies Looking 
 glasse, wherein may be discerned a tvise man from a 
 foole, a good woman from a bad, and the true resem- 
 blance of vice masked under the uizard of vertuc. . . . 
 London, printeclj'or Thomas Adams, 1616. — The Irish 
 Hvbbvb or the English hue and crie breicfely pursuing 
 the base conditions and most notorious offences of this vile, 
 vaine and wicked age. No lesse smarting then tickling. 
 A merriment whereby to make the wise to laugh, and 
 fooles to be angry. 
 
 Mounted aloft vpon the world's great stngc, 
 I stand to note the Jollies of this age. 
 
 t I'o- 735- X ">• Uh> '7iJ- § ">• ij6</- 
 Hut. Eng. Po. Vol. IV. p. 71, nu€k. 
 •• II). Vol. III. p. Vi, nclt. 
 
 D 2 .... London, 
 
.... London, printed ly Aug. Mathewes, for lo/in 
 Mariot, and are to he sold at his shop in Saint Diiti' 
 stons Churchyard in Fleet, street. 1622.* The above 
 are in prose, but interspersed with many pieces of poetry, 
 though their frequent occurrence was discontinued as he 
 advanced in Hfe.f 
 
 The assertion that he was " never able to scale Par- 
 nassus hill," appears confirmed by the eight editions of 
 Dainty Denises containing one piece only with his 
 name affixed. It is inserted in the Appendix, (p. 106), 
 and is an Epitaph upon the death oj Sir JFiUiam Drury, 
 who died at Waterford, i 579. One line in this poem ap- 
 pears too immediately similar with the signature of" My 
 lucke is lossc," to be passed unnoticed. It occurs in the 
 tenth stanza. 
 
 " Thy luche is losse, thy fortune still withstoode." 
 
 Probability is all that can be hazarded on such a ques- 
 tion. He must have been a voung author in 1576, when 
 the Dainty Deuiccs was first published, and might wish 
 to remain unknown. | Unless the whole can be considered 
 a proverb, it was not likely he would use words so well 
 known to the reader, and appearing repeatedly in the 
 preceding pages, without some personal title to them. 
 Perhaps they were a dry conceit originating in his motto 
 Malui me diuilem esse quam vocari. J. H. 
 
 MY LUCKE IS LOSSE. 
 With this quaint signature are five copies of verses, in 
 the edition of 1576. See the conjecture above regarding 
 B. Rich. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 There are eight pieces without either initials or signa- 
 ture, at pp. 18, 31, 38, 52, 59, IOC, 101, lie, III. 
 
 • The dedication is dated at "Dublin tl-e 24 of June, 1618." Walton 
 mentions an edition printed at London 1617, and that the title "calls that 
 book his twenty-sixth." (Vol. 111. p. 482.) The above list is thereibrc still 
 very imperfect. 
 
 t Most of the pieces noticed, as written by Lloyd or Rich, aic in the li- 
 brary of Richard Heber, Esq. 
 
 ^ He had printed with his name the Dialogue two years before. 
 
 The 
 
The present Collection mny be coiisiclcrctl as the poetry 
 of the reign of Q^Mary, rather than of Elizabeth. Wc 
 sec in it something of the same turn wiiich busied itself 
 so much in versifying the Psalms of David. Yet we do 
 not sec ihat creative Tmagination and those sublime ener- 
 gies, which produced Sackville's admirable Induction lo 
 the Mirror for Magistrates. By that noble composition 
 is proved how little efforts of high genius arc suppressed 
 by the immaturity of cotemporary sentiment, language 
 and taste. 
 
 Minds of minor ingenuity sunk, in the gloomy reign 
 of the bigoted Queen, into a moral tone, which is fre- 
 quently tedious, though it now and then produces an 
 iu)pressive pathos. 
 
 The lyrical and pastoral pieces, such as ornament ihe 
 latter period of Q. Elizabeth's reign, and which are fre- 
 quently beautiful from their delicate simplicity, were yet 
 seldom atten)pted. Marlow, Lodge, Greene, and Breton, 
 afterwards shone in those delightful flowers of poetry, 
 which decorated the pages of England's Helicon, and 
 otiier miscellanies of that day. I can find little of a simi- 
 lar genius in the Paradise of Dainty Denises, unless in 
 the productions of Richard Edwards. 
 
 The progress of the human mind in the polish of lan- 
 guage, as well as in the refinement of opinion, is surely 
 among the most important of philosophical inquiries. 
 What can better exhibit it than a series of those poetical 
 compositions, which were most popular in their day? 
 Here are shewn all those forms of expression, which are 
 most laboured into nicety and elegance. Here are dis- 
 played all those feelings, which intellectual cultivation 
 haJ most drawn forth. 
 
 Yet popular as this Collection was, it had also like 
 every thing else, its ccnsurers, as the following extracts, 
 kindly furnished by Mr. Pakk. and Mr. Haslewood, 
 will prove. 
 
 yJlhisions to the Paradise of Dainty Denises. 
 
 " Oncly I'oetric hath founde fewest frends to amende 
 it: those that can, reserving tbeyr style lo themselves; 
 those that cannot, running headlong upon it, thinking to 
 
 furnish 
 
furnish it with iheir Deuises, but more corrupting it with 
 I'antasticall errours." 
 
 Pnf. to JFebhes Disc, of Poetrie, 1586. 
 " Are they not ashamed in their prefixed poesies to 
 adorne a picture oi' f no/it mixt with pleasure (sec title to 
 Paradise of Daiutv Deuises p. 90.) when as in their bookts 
 there is scarce to be Ibund one precept pertaining to \cr- 
 lue, but whole quires fraught with amorous discourses, 
 kindling Venus' flame in Vulcan's forge, carrying Cupid 
 in tryumph, alluring even vowed vestals to treade awry, 
 inchauntintj chaste mindes and corrupting the continenst. 
 Henceforth let them alter their posies oi profit with inter- 
 mingled pleasure, inserting that of Ovid in steed — 
 
 Si quis in hoc artem populo non novit amindi, 
 Me legat et lecto carmine doctus amct. 
 
 So shall the discreet reader understand the contents by 
 the title, and their purpose by their posie." 
 
 Nash's yhtatomie of Absurdilie, 1589. 
 
 •^—^^ Twoo fane eyes tcatli mee my lesson j 
 
 And what I reail in those, 1 do write in a b-irck of a beech-tree j 
 
 Beech tree, better booke than a thousand Dainty dcunei* 
 
 Fraunce'sYtj chunh, A. ii. Sc. last, 1J9I. 
 
 " Then should not tragicke Gamier haue liis poore 
 Cornelia stand naked vpon euery poste : then should not 
 Times complaint delude with so good a title: then should 
 not the Paradise of Dainty Deuises bee a packet of balde 
 rimes." Polimanteia, 1595. 
 
 List of Editiovs. 
 1576, 15785 i585> 1600. t 
 
 i577» i5«o> 1596. 
 
 An edition, without date, printed by Edward Allde 
 for Edward White. See p. xxvii. 
 
 ♦ A nd yet on a reference to the original, in Tasso's Aminta, it maybe 
 doubtful whether commendation rather than censure is not here intended by 
 Mastor Fraunce. 
 
 •f- These dates are all that can be mentioned with confidence. Cibber, 
 in the life of Jasper Hey wood, speaks of an edition in 1574, but it is doubt- 
 ful. Also, Warton, in the Hist. Eng. Po. Vol. HI. p. j88, mentions an 
 edition in 1573, which Steevens and Herbert conceived an error of the press 
 for 157S. 
 
 List 
 
XXV 
 
 Liil of Signalurei.* 
 
 1. A'.ioiiymous, i8, 31, 38, 5;, 59, 71, ico, 
 
 101, 1 10, III xxii 
 
 2. Bew, (M). 4^, 55, 61, 63, 74 xvii 
 
 3. Bourchcr, (A.) 110 xix 
 
 4. Candish, 99 xviii 
 
 5. D. (H.) 98 xviii 
 
 6. D. (R.) 9 xvii 
 
 7. D. (M.) 30 xvii 
 
 8. Etlwardes, (M.) i, 2, 19, 24, 25, 26, 42, 55, 
 
 58, 60, 62j 96, 105, 113 V 
 
 9. G. (F.) 22 xvii 
 
 10. Gaskc, (G.) 105 xviii 
 
 11. Hcywoodj (Jasper) 5, 6, 85, 85, 91, 112,114, 
 
 115 XV 
 
 12. Hill, R[ichardl 9, 27, 28, 29, 62, 72, 86 . . xvi 
 
 13. Hunis, (W.) 56, 57, 57, 59, 60, 63, 65, 96, 
 
 97, 97, IC2, 103. xiv 
 
 14. Kinvvclniarsh, (Francis,) 4, 6, 8, 13, 14, 16, 
 
 37,37, 6^, 87 xiv 
 
 IS- I- (K-) «3 ^^''i 
 
 16. Lloyd, (Lodowick,) 93 xix 
 
 17 (M 1'.) 21, 47, 46, 50, 51 xviii 
 
 18. Marshall, (T.) 84 xvii 
 
 19. My lucke is losse, A iij, A iij, 31, (E iiij)30, 
 
 (E iiij) 41 xxii 
 
 20. Oxford, (Earl of,) 24, 69, 7c, 75, 76, 77, 78 x 
 
 21. Ritch, (Barnaby,) 106 xix 
 
 22. Sands, (Dr.) i, 1 7, 20, 23, 43 xvi 
 
 23. S. E. A iiij, 30, 31, 47, 67 xviii 
 
 24. S. M. 92 xviii 
 
 25. Thorn, (M) 15, 54 xvii 
 
 26. Vaux, (Lord) 3, 10, 11, 44, 64, 72, 73, 79, 
 
 79, 80,81, 81, 82, 103 vii 
 
 27. Yloop, A iiiij, 88 xvii 
 
 • A few of the signatures arc altered in the suliscqucnt editions, though 
 it m»y lie iloubtlul in some instances on what authority. Of the pieces 
 here considered Amrymout, the name of Tho. Churchyard was afterwards 
 affixed to " He peisundeth his friend," &c. at p. 18 : of T. Marshall to 
 " ThdURh f'.irtune have," &c. at p. 31. and of \V. Hunnis to " No foe 
 10 a flailetcr," at p. J9. 
 
 Statimem 
 
Statement of Variations in the Contents of the 
 successive Editions. 
 
 Page 
 
 Even as the waxe doeth melt, E. 77 
 
 If cuer man had lone to dearly bought, I„ V 73 
 
 In wretched state, alas, 1 rewe my lite, R. H 86 
 
 I would to God I were Acteoii, [Anon.] 46 
 
 Lo hcare the man that must of loue coniplaine, [Anon.] 71 
 
 Mistrust misdemes amisse, L. V S; 
 
 My meanyng is to worke, E. 78 
 
 The hidden woes that swelleth in my hart, E. S 31 
 
 The liuely larke did stretche her wyng, E. O 69 
 
 The sainct I serve and have besought, Richjrd Hill 62 
 
 The subtill slily sleights, M. Edwards* 60 
 
 To die. Dame Nature did man frame, [.'Vnon.] 31 
 
 We reade what paines the powers devine, R. H 29 
 
 What dome is this I faine would knowe, L. V 72 
 
 What watche, what wo, wh:it want, what wracke, W. H 62 
 
 When first mine eyes did vew and marke, W. H 57 
 
 When sage Vlisses sailed by, M. Bew 5 ^ 
 
 Who shall profoundly way or scan, M. Thorn 54 
 
 In edition of 1580 and not in IJ76. 
 
 Alacke when I looke backe, M. Hunnis 97 
 
 Amid the vale the slender shrubbe, Jasper Hey wood 91 
 
 A trustie frecnde is rare to finde, M. Edwards 96 
 
 If Cressid in her gadding nioode, Troylus 100 
 
 If thou delight in quietness of life, M. Hunnis 96 
 
 In lothsome race puisued, Candish 99 
 
 In place where wantes Apollo, Barnabe Ritche .... 106 
 
 In searche of things that secret are, W. Hunnis 102 
 
 In welth we see some welthy man, W. Hunnis 103 
 
 I read a maying rime, M. S 92 
 
 Like as the dolefuU dove, W. Hunnis 97 
 
 Mine owne good father thou art gone, H. D 98 
 
 My eye why didst thou light on that, M. Hunnis 96 
 
 My haute desyre to hye that seeketh rest, M. Edwardes • 105 
 
 No gadding moode, but forced strife, Cressida loi 
 
 What is this world a net to snare, G. G 104 
 
 When I behold the baicr, L. Vaux • 103 
 
 You Muses weare your mourning weeds 93 
 
 In edition of 15S0 and not in either of 1596 or i6cc. 
 
 Dedication to Sir Henry Comp;on A ij 
 
 If Cressid in her gadding moode, Troylus 100 
 
 In plice where wantes Apollo, Barnabe Ritche ■ ic6 
 
 My haute desyre to hye that seeketh rest, M. Edwardes 105 
 
 No gadding moode, but foixed strife, Cressida loi 
 
 IV THE EDITIONS OF I $96 AND I l5oO AND NOT IN THAT OF I580. 
 
 In May by kinde Dame nature wills, Maister Edwards 113 
 
 O saveraigne salve of sin, J. Heywood 119 
 
 Perhaps you thinke me bold, A. Bourcher 104 
 
 The deepe turmoilcd wight, that lives devoid of ease, [Anon.] no 
 
 The wandering youth whose race, J. Heywood 11^ 
 
 What fcnde delight, wh.it fancies strange, J. H 112 
 
 Who seeks the v.'ay to win renowne, [Anon.] in 
 
 * Inserted in editions of 1600, and without date. 
 
The Paratlyse 
 of diiynty dcuices. 
 Co'iteyning sundry pithy preceptcs, learned 
 Counsels, and excellent inucntions, right pleasant 
 and profitable for all estates. 
 Deuised and wriiteu for the most pait, by M. Edwardes, 
 sometime, of her Maiesties Ciiappell: the rest 
 by sundry learned Gentlemen, both of honor, 
 and worship, whose names here- 
 after folowe. 
 Imprinted at London, by Henry Disle, 
 dwelling in Paules Churchyard, at the southwest 
 doore of Saint Paules Church, and arc 
 there to be solde. 
 157S. 
 [Above is the title of edition 1573, with the sight of which 
 I have been favoured by a gentleman, since the preceding 
 account was printed. Subsequent collation may enable me 
 hereafter to give a more minute account of its contents ; at 
 present, I can only undertake to say, that it appears to vary 
 from all the editions here described, and to contain a poem 
 by George Whetstone, no where else to be met with, to the 
 best of my knowledge. J. H.] 
 
 Tiie 
 
 P.irailiee 
 
 of Dainty Devices. 
 
 Containing sundry pithie precepts, learned 
 
 counsailes, and excellent inventions: right 
 
 pleasant and profitable for all estates. 
 Devised and written for the most parte by 
 M. Edwardes, sometime of her Majesties Chappell: the rest by 
 sundry learned Gentlemen both of honor, and 
 worship, whose names hcr- 
 after foUowe 
 Whereunto is added sundry new Inventi- 
 ons, very pleasant and dclightfull. 
 At London 
 Printed by Edward Alldc for Edward "White 
 dwelling at the little North 
 dorc of S;iiot Paules Church, at the signe of the Gunnc. 
 ICohf/iori] At London 
 printed by E. A. for Edward 
 White dwelling at the little north 
 doore of Paules Church at the 
 .signe of the Gunne. 
 [This edition is nearly similar to the one of IfiOO. The 
 whole number of pieces it contains is 103, and all to be found 
 in the present volume. J. H.] 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Preface V ." .V .'.".".'.'.'.'.'.".'.'.'.'.'.'.'.' .V .'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.".'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'... . iij 
 
 Dedication to Sir Hcniy Comi>ton A ji 
 
 Saint Barnards Verges My lucice is losse A iij 
 
 Beware ot hail 1 wyst My lurkc is loss: A ii J 
 
 The perfect try allot" a fjythfuU freend Yloop /». 
 
 No pleasure without some Day.x E. S. ii. 
 
 Om pleasures are vanities. '. D. S. Fo. I 
 
 M. Edwardes May M. Edwardes i 
 
 Faire woordes make foolcs taine M. Edwardes 2 
 
 In his extreamc svcknesse L. Vaux j 
 
 For Chr.stmas day F. K. 4 
 
 Easter day laspcr Heywjod 5 
 
 For Whilsiinday M. Kindlemarsh 6 
 
 Who mindes to bring his bhippe, &e lasper Heywood 6 
 
 Of the vnconstant staye of fortune's gifces F. K. 8 
 
 Promise is dvbt R.Hill 9 
 
 No woordes, but decdes R. D. 9 
 
 He desyreth exchange oflyfe L. Vaux 10 
 
 Of the initabilitic of youth L. Vaux 11 
 
 Most happy is that state alone, &c F. K. 13 
 
 Who wyll aspire to dignitie, &c F. K. 14 
 
 Mans fiittii.glife fyndes surest SMy, &c : M. F. 15 
 
 Nothing is comparable vnto a faithfull freend F. K. J 6 
 
 Respise finem D. S. 17 
 
 He persuadeth his friend from the fond eifectes of loue Anon. 1 8 
 
 Wantyng his desyre he complayneth M. Edwardes 19 
 
 Trye before you trust D. S. 20 
 
 A Lady forsaken, complayncth M. D. 20 
 
 Finding worldly ioyes but vanities he wysheth death F. M. 21 
 
 Hauing marryed a woorthy Lady and taken away by death, he com- 
 
 playneth his mishap F. G. 22 
 
 A woorthy dittie, song before the Queenes Maiestie at Bristowe . . . D. S. 23 
 
 His good name being blemished, he bewayleth E. O. 24 
 
 Of Fortune's power M. Edwardes 24 
 
 Though Triumph after bloudy warres, &c M. Edwardes 25 
 
 Of perfect wisedome M. Edwardes 26 
 
 A frendly admonition R. Hill 27 
 
 Sundrie men, sundrie effectes R. Hill 28 
 
 Time giues experince R. H. 29 
 
 Of sufferance cometh ease E. S. 30 
 
 Being trapped in Loue he complayneth. E. S. 31 
 
 Though Fortune haue sette thee on hie, &c Anon. 3 1 
 
 All 
 
XXIX 
 
 All ihingfs arc v>'.ne F. K. 5 ; — V. 1 
 
 A »criiimi» Gentle wcman in the prase of hir Loue M. K. 37 — E i 
 
 Ouprcsse^l with sorowr, he wyshctli <Uath Anon. 3N— t I 
 
 Wh;:c [Cjsoii makes request, tlieie wisjome ought supplie, See. My 
 
 luckcis lost 5'— ^.'j 
 
 Donee eris Felix multos numcrabis amicos, &c.. My lucke is losse. jo — E. ii i 
 
 Wiijt ioye w a contenteil myndc My Inckc is iossc 41 
 
 A iiantium iriE amoris redintisritio est M. Eilwardcs 41 
 
 Thinkctjdye D. S. 4j 
 
 Bcyng asked the occision of his white head, he aunswerclh thus . . L. V. 44 
 
 [ Ihe Loners wishe] M. B. 46 
 
 Beinj; foisaken of his friend he comp aini.-th E. S. 4'i 
 
 I'r.dei.s. The historic of Uanucles & Dio.iisc Anon. 47 
 
 Fortitude. A yong man otVEgipt and Va'erian Anon. 49 
 
 lusticc. Zalcuch and his Sonne Anon. 50 
 
 Temperaunte. Spurii-a and tlie Rjmaine Lad.cs F. M. 51 
 
 A bunclic of heibes and fljwcrs Anon. 54 
 
 No.v mortall man beholde and see, &c M Thorn j i 
 
 In commendation of Musick M. Edwards j ; 
 
 [Tl.c Sirens songes]. M. Bew 5 ; 
 
 Findyngc no ioyc, he desirt-'th death V/. H. 56 
 
 Ho|K well and hau- well W. H. 57 
 
 He repenttth his folly W. H. 57 
 
 He rcqucsteth sonic frendly comfort aiBrmyng hiscon^tancie. M. Edwards sS 
 
 He complaineth his mishapp M. H. 59 
 
 No foe to a fljttcrer Anon. 59 
 
 His comparison of loue W. Huniiis 60 
 
 Evill to him that evil thinketh M. Edw.irds 60 
 
 He assurfth his consuiicic M. B. 61 
 
 Trie and then trust Richard Hill 6i 
 
 Complainyng to his frendc, he replieth wittely M . Edwards 6x 
 
 No paines comparable to his attempt W. H. 63 
 
 No pleasure without some painc L. Vaux 64 
 
 The fruites of f.iined frendes W. H. 6 J 
 
 Being importunate, at the length he obtaineth M.B. 6; 
 
 Requiryng the fauour of his loue she aunsweteth thus E. S. 67 
 
 Aloueriijye F. K. 6S 
 
 The iudgement of desire E. O. 69 
 
 The complaint of a loucr, wearyng Blacke and Tawnic E. O. 70 
 
 He complaineth thus Anon. 7 1 
 
 Findyng no relief, he complaineth thus R. H. 73 
 
 Biyng in loue he complaineth L. V. yi 
 
 A louei dis<bincil, complaineth . . . .' L. V. 73 
 
 Beyng in loue he complaineth M. B. 74 
 
 A louer rexcted complaineth E. O. 7^ 
 
 Not attainyng to his dcalre he complaineth E. O. 76 
 
 His myndc not quietly setled, he wiiteth thus E. O. 77 
 
 Of (he mightic power of Loue E. O. 78 
 
 Beyng disdained he complaineth L. Vaux 79 
 
 Ot the mcane citaie L. V. 79 
 
 Of a contented mynile L. V. 80 
 
 Trie before you trust L. Vaur 81 
 
 He renounceih all the afFectcs of loue L. Vaux 8 1 
 
 Beyng in sorrnwc he complaineth L. V. Ii 
 
 Beyng in liuc he complaineth R. L. 8j 
 
 Beyng in trouble, he writcth thus T. M. 84 
 
 Beyng troubled in myndi he wiiuch u foUoweth. LH. 8j 
 
XXX 
 
 Looke or you Icape lasper Heywood 85 
 
 H= iKWaileth his mishappe R.H. 86 
 
 The complaint of a Synner F K. 87 
 
 The fruite that sprjnges from wilful witcs, is 1 uthe, &c Vloop S8 
 
 Appendix. 
 
 [Title ot edition 1580] 9° 
 
 [In this wavering world virtue triumphes] lasper Heywood 91 
 
 A replie to M. Edwards's May M. S. 92 
 
 An epitaoh upon Sir Edward Saundcis, &c Lodowick Lloyd 9 ? 
 
 OfaFreend and a Flatterer M.Edwards 96 
 
 If thou deiire to live in quiet reEt, &c M. Hunnis 96 
 
 A dialogue between the Auctour and his eye M. Hunnis 96 
 
 No paints comparable to his attempt , W. Hunnis 97 
 
 He repenteth his folly M. Hunnis 97 
 
 Written upon the death of Maister lohn Barnabie, &c H. D. 98 
 
 No joy comparable to a quiet minde Candish 99 
 
 A complaint Troylus 100 
 
 A Replye. . .'. V. Cressida loi 
 
 The Louer is requited by disdainc W. Hunnis lOi 
 
 Ofacontened state W. Hunnis 103 
 
 Bethincking himselfe of his end.writeth thus L. Vaux 10 j 
 
 A description of the world G. G. 104 
 
 Being in loue he complaineth M. Edwardes 105 
 
 Epitaph upon Syr William Drury, Knight, &c. . Barnaby Ritche, Gent. 106 
 
 Golden Precepts '^- Bourcher 109 
 
 Inprayseof the snayle Anon. 110 
 
 A young gentleman willing to travaile into forraine parts being entreated 
 
 to stay in England, who wrote as foUoweth Ajion. 1 1 1 
 
 A wittie and pleasant conceit I. H 112 
 
 Maister Edwards his " I may not" [M. Edwards] 1 1 j 
 
 The Complaint of a SorrowtuU Soul 1- Heywood 114 
 
 Alluding his state to the prodiga child I. Heywood 1 1 5 
 
 CfiC 
 
"iLJjc pnramfc of anpntie Dcuifictj. I'ol- i- 
 
 1. Our pleasures arevanilies. 
 
 Behold the blast which blowes the blossomcs from the tree. 
 The end whereof consumes, and comes to iiouc;ht we see; 
 Ere thou therefore be blowen, from life that may not last, 
 Begh/, for grace, to call lor time niispent and past. 
 
 Haue mind on brittle life, whose pleasures are but vayne : 
 On death likewyse bethinkc, how thou maist not rcmaine. 
 Andfeare thy Lord to greeue, which sought thy soule to saue|i 
 To synne no more be bent, but mercie aske and haue. 
 
 For death who dooth not spare, the kinges on earth to kill. 
 Shall reape also from thee thy pleasure, life, and will. 
 That hjfe which yet remaynes, and in thy brest appcares, 
 Ilath sowne in thee sutch sccdes, you ought to wccde with teares. 
 
 And life that shall succeedc, when death is worne and past. 
 Shall spring forcuer then, in ioy or paine to last. 
 Where death on life hath power, ye see that life also 
 Hath mowen the fruitcs of death, which neuer more shall growi-. 
 Finis. D. S. 
 
 2. M. Edwardes MAY. 
 
 When May is in his prime, then May eche hart reioyrf, 
 
 When May bedeckes eche branch w' greenc, eche bird streines forth 
 
 The liuely sappc creepcs up into y"=. bloniing ihorne, (his voyce, 
 
 The flowres, which cold in prison kept, now laughes ll)c frost to scorne. 
 
 All natures Impes triumphcs, whyks ioyfuU May dooth last; 
 
 When May is gone, of all the ycerc the pleasant time is past. 
 
 May makes the chcrfull hue. May breedes and bringes ncwe blood. 
 May marcheth throughout euery limme. May makes y'-'. mery moodc. 
 May prickclh tender hartes, their warbling notes to tune, 
 Ful strange it is, yet some wee see, doo make their May in Iune. 
 Thus thingcs are straungely wrought, whyles ioyfuU May doth last; 
 Take May in time, when May is gone, the pleasant time is past. 
 
 a i 
 
3 Cf)t ^avaWt 
 
 All ye that Hue on earth, and haue your May at wyll, 
 Reioyce in May, as I doo now, and use your May with skill. 
 Use May, whyle that you may, for May hath but his time; 
 When all the fruite is gone, it is to late the tree to clime. 
 Your liking, and your lust, is freshe whyles May dooth last. 
 When May is gone, of all the yeere thepleasaunt time is past. 
 Finis. 
 
 3. Faire woorJes make fooles faine. 
 
 In youthfull yeeres when fyrst my young desyres began. 
 
 To pricke mee foorth to serue in Court a sclender tall young man, 
 
 My Fathers blessing then I askt upon my knee. 
 
 Who blessing me with trembling hand, these wordes gan say to me: 
 
 My Sonne, God guide thy way, and shielde thee from mischaunce. 
 
 And make thy just desartes in Court, thy poore estate to advaunce. 
 
 Yet when thou art become one of the Courtly trayne, 
 
 Thinke on this pioverbe old (qd he) that faire woordes make fooles faine. 
 
 This counsell grauely geven, most strange appeares to me, 
 
 Tyll tract of time, with open eyes, had made me plainely see. 
 
 What subtill sleightes are wrought, by painted tales deuise. 
 
 When hollowe hartes with freendly shoes the simple doo entise 
 
 To thinke al golde that shines to feede their fonde desire. 
 
 Whose shiuering cold is warmd with smoke, instead of flaming fire. 
 
 Sith talke of tickle trust dooth breede a hope most vaine. 
 
 This proverbe true by proofe I finde, that faire woordes make fooles faine. 
 
 Faire speache alway doeth well, where deedes insue faire woordes, 
 Faire speache againe alway dooth euil, that bushes geves for birdes. 
 Who hopes to haue fayre woordes, to trye his luckie lot. 
 If I may counsel let him strike it, whyle the iron is hotte. 
 Eut them that feede on cloddes, insteade of pleasaunt grapes. 
 And after warning often geven, for better lucke still gapes. 
 Full loth I am, yet must 1 tell them in woordes plaine, 
 This piouerbe old proues true in them, that faire words makes fooles faine. 
 
 Wo 
 
of finiintic Dcutscsj. 3 
 
 Wo woonh the tirae that wooides, so slowly turne to deedes; 
 Wo worth the lime, y' faire swcete floures, are growe~ to rotten wcc.les 
 But thrise wo woorlh tlie time, that tructh away is fled. 
 Wherein I see how simple hartes with woordcs are vainely fed. 
 Trust no faire woordes therefore, where no deedes do ensue; 
 Trust words, as skilful Falkeners doo trust Haukcs that neuer flew. 
 Trust deedes, let woordes be woordes, which neucr wrought nic gaine; 
 Let my experience make you wyse, and let woordes make fooles faine. 
 
 .1/. Edwardcs. 
 
 A. In his extreame sycknesse. 
 
 What greeues my bones, and makes my body faint? 
 \\'hat prickes my flesh and teares my head in twaayne' 
 Why doo I wake, when rest should mc attaynt ? 
 When others laugh, why doo I liuc in paine? 
 I tosse, I lunie, 1 change from side to side. 
 And stretche me oft, in sorowes Hnkes betydc. 
 
 I tossc, as one betost in waues of care, 
 
 I turne, to flee the woes of lotlisome lyfe: 
 
 I change to spie, yf death this corps might spare, 
 
 I stretche to heauen, to ridde me of this strife : 
 
 Thus doo I stretche and change, and tosse and turne, 
 
 Whyle I in hope of heauen by life doo burne. 
 
 Then holde thee still, let be thy heauinesse, 
 Abolisiie care, forgcat thy pining woe : 
 For by this mcanes soone shalt thou finde redressej 
 When oft betost, hence thou to heauen must goe. 
 Then tosse and turne, and lumhle franke and free. 
 O happy thr)'se, when thou in heauen shall be. 
 
 Finis. L. Faux. 
 
 2L 11 
 
5, For Christmas day. 
 
 Reioyce, reioyce, with hart and voyce^ 
 In Christes lirth this day reioyce. 
 
 From Virgins wombe this day dyd spring 
 
 The precious seede that onely saued man : 
 
 This day let man reioyce and sweetely sing, 
 
 Since on this da^' saluation fyrst began. 
 
 This day dyd Chryste mans soule from death remooue. 
 
 With glorious saintes to dwell in heauen aboue. 
 
 This day to man came pledge of perfect peace. 
 This day to man came loue and unitie; 
 This day mans greefe began for to surcease. 
 This day did man receyue a remedie. 
 For cche offence, and euery deadly sinne. 
 With guiltie hart, that erst he vvandred in. 
 
 In Christes flocke let loue be surely plaste. 
 From Christes flocke let concorde hate expell : 
 Of Christes flocke let loue be so embraste. 
 As we in Christe, and Christe in us may dwell. 
 Christe is the aucthour of all unitie. 
 From whence proceedeth all felicitie. 
 
 O syng unto this glittering glorious king, 
 O prayse his name let euery lining thing; 
 Let hart and voyce like Belles of syluer ring 
 The comfort that this day did bring. 
 Let Lute, let Shalme, with sounde of sweete delight^ 
 The ioy of Christes birth this day resight. 
 Finis. F. K. 
 
of tiAvntiP tieuijJeiS* 
 
 6. Easter day. 
 
 All mortall men this day reioyce 
 
 In Christ, that you redeemed hath : 
 
 By death, with death : sing we with voyce, 
 
 To him that hath appcscd Gods wrath 
 
 Due unto man for sintull path. 
 
 Wherein before he went astray : 
 
 Geve thankes to him with perfect faith, 
 
 That for mankind hath made this glorious day. 
 
 This day he rose from tombe againe, 
 
 Wherin his precious corse was laide: 
 
 Whom cruelly the Jewes had slaine. 
 
 With blooddy woundes full ill araide. 
 
 O man be now no more dismaide. 
 
 If thou hence foorth from sinne doo stay; 
 
 Of death thou ncedcst not be afraide, 
 
 Christ conquered death for this his glorious day. 
 
 His death preuayled had no whit. 
 
 As Paul the Apostle well doth write. 
 
 Except he had uprysen yet. 
 
 From death to life, by Go.Uikc might, 
 
 With most triumphant glittering light. 
 
 This day his glory shined I say, 
 
 And made us bright as sunne this glorious day. 
 
 O man arysc with Christc therefore, 
 Since he from sinne hath made thcc free : 
 Beware thou fall in sinne no more. 
 But rysc as Christe did ryse for thee. 
 So raayst thou him in glory see. 
 When he at day of doome shal say : 
 Come thou my childe and dwell with me, 
 God Graunt us all to see that glorious day. 
 Finis : Jasper Heywood, 
 
 2l m 
 
6 '€f)t ^axamt 
 
 7. For J (^ hit Sunday, 
 
 Come, holy ghost, eternall God, and ease the vvofull greefe. 
 
 That, thorough the heapes of heauy sinne, can no where finde releefe. 
 
 Poo thou O God redresse 
 
 The great distresse 
 
 Of suit'ull heauinesse. 
 
 Come comfort the aflicted thoughtes of my consumed hart : 
 O ryd the pearcing pricking paynes, of my tormenthig smart 
 
 O holy Ghost graunt me 
 
 That 1 by thee 
 
 From sinne may purged be. 
 
 Thou art my God : to thee alone 
 
 I will commend my cause: 
 
 Not glittering golde, nor precious stone, 
 
 Shall make me leaue thy lawes. 
 
 O teache me then the way. 
 
 Whereby 1 may 
 
 Make thee my only stay. 
 
 My lippes, my tongue, my hart and al, 
 Shall spreade thy mightie name: 
 My voyce shall neuer cease to sound 
 The prayses of the same. 
 
 Yea euery liuing thing 
 
 Shall sweetely syng 
 
 To thee (O heauenly king.) 
 Finis. M. Kindlemarsh. 
 
 8, Who mindes to bring his shippe to happy shore. 
 Must care to knowe the lawes of wysdomes lore. 
 
 My freend, yf thou wylt credite me in ought. 
 To whom the trueth by tryall well appearesj 
 Nought woorth is wit, till it be dearely bought. 
 There is no wysedome but in hoarie heares. 
 
 Yet 
 
of tiatrntie I>eui0e0» 
 
 Yet yfl may of \vysedome oft define. 
 
 As well as others haue of happinessej 
 
 Then to my woordes, my freende, thy rare encline f 
 
 The thinges tliat make thee wyse, are these, I gesse. 
 
 Feare God, and knowe thy selfe in echc degree. 
 Be freend to all, familier but to fewe; 
 Too light of credite, see thou neucr be. 
 For tryal oft in trust dooth treason shcwe. 
 To otlicrs faultes cast not so much thy eye, 
 Accuse no man of gilt, amend tliy owne; 
 Of medling much dooth mischiefe oft aryse. 
 And oft debate by tickle tongue is sowne. 
 
 What thing thou wilt haue hid, to none declare; 
 In woorde or deede, beware of had 1 wist: 
 So spend thy good, that some thou euer spare. 
 For freendcs like Haukcs doo scare from emptie fist. 
 Cut out thy coate, according to thy cloth. 
 Suspected persons see thou alwayes flee: 
 Beleeve not him who once hath broke his troth. 
 Nor yet of gift, without desart, be free. 
 
 Time quickly slips; beware how thou it spend. 
 
 Of wanton youth repentes a painefull age .- 
 
 Beginne notliing without an eye to thend. 
 
 Nor bowe thyne care from counsell of the sage; 
 
 If thou to farre let out thy fancie slip. 
 
 And witlcsse wyll from reasons rule outstart; 
 
 Thy folly shall at length be made thy whippe. 
 
 Anil sore the stripes of shame shall cause thee smart. 
 
 To doo too much for olde men is but lost, 
 Of frccndship had to women comes like gaine : 
 Kestowe not thou on children to much cost. 
 For what thou dooest for these is all in vayne. 
 
 The 
 
C6e ia.u*ntii$se 
 
 The okle mnn, or be can requile, he dyes; 
 Unconstant is the vvomans waueryng minde: 
 Full soone the boy thy freendship wyl despise, 
 And him for loue thou shall ungrateful! finde. 
 
 The aged man is like the barren ground, 
 The woman like the Reede that wagges with \\ 
 There may no trust in tender yeeres be found. 
 And of the three, the boy is most unkinde. 
 If thou haue found a faithful freend in deede. 
 Beware thou lose not loue of such a one: 
 He shall sometime stand thee in better steede. 
 Then treasure great of golde or precious stone. 
 Finh. Taspcr Heywood. 
 
 y. Of the vnconstant staye of fortunes giftes. 
 
 If Fortune be thy stay, thy state is very tickle. 
 
 She beares a double face, disguised, false, and fickle. 
 
 This day she seemes to smile, to morrowe wyl she frowne. 
 
 What nowe she sets aloft, anone she throweth downe. 
 
 Fly Fortunes sly deseytes, let Vertue be thy guide, 
 
 ]f that you doo intend in happy state to byde. 
 
 Upon the setled Rocke thy building surest standes; 
 Away it quickly weares, that resteth on the sandes. 
 Dame Vertue is the Rocke, that yeeldes assured stay. 
 Dame Fortune h the Sand, thatskowreth soone away. 
 Chuse that is certaine, let thinges uncertayne passe. 
 Prefer the precious golde, before the brittle glasse. 
 
 Sly Fortune hath her sleightes, she plaies upon the packe, 
 I,ook whom she fauours most, at length she turnes to wracke. 
 But Vertue simply deales, she shuns deceitful! trayne. 
 Who is by Fortune rayscd up, shall never fall againe. 
 Sticke fast to Vertue then, tliat geves assured trust. 
 And fly from Fortunes freekes, that euer prooue unjust. 
 Finis. F. K. 
 
 Pro7)iiy. 
 
of D.ipnnc ticiuflrfi. 
 
 10. Promise is Jell. 
 
 In my accorapt, the promise that is vowed. 
 Among the good is holdeii such a debt. 
 As he is thought, no whit to be alowed. 
 That sctteth light his promise to forget. 
 And for my part, I wyl notlinke in loue 
 With fickle folkc, whose fancies oft remoue. 
 
 My happy gaine I doo estecrae for such. 
 
 As fewe have found, in these our doutful dayes: 
 
 To finde a frecnd, I tliinke it be as much. 
 
 As to winne a fort, full fraught of noble praise. 
 
 Of all the goodes, that there may be possest, 
 
 A faithful! freend I judge to be the best. 
 
 O freendly league, although to lale begunne. 
 Yet time shall try our troth is well imployed : 
 And that we both shall see, that we have vvonne 
 Such fastncd faith, as can not be destroyed 
 By enuious rage, or slaunders bitter bio we. 
 That seekes the good to ouerthrowe. 
 Finis. R. Hilt. 
 
 11. No woordes, lul deedes. 
 
 The wrong is great, the paine aboue my power. 
 That yeeldes such care in doutfull dennes to drowiie: 
 Such happe is hard, where fortune dooth so lower. 
 As freendly looke, is turned to froward frowne. 
 Is this the trust that faithfull freendcs can fintle? 
 With those that yet have promise broke ? 
 By dccdes in dout, as though no woordes can binde 
 A vowed freend to hold him to his yoke. 
 
 O faithlesse freend, what can assure your minde, 
 That doutes so soone, before you have cause why: 
 To what hard happe, doth fortune here mc binde. 
 When woordes nor deedes can no way satisfyc ? 
 
 £i 
 
10 ULtt pai-at)i0c 
 
 What can I write, that hath not oft been saide? 
 What have I saide, that other hath not affyrnied • 
 What is approued, tliat ought to be assayed? 
 Or what is vowed, that shall not be performed? 
 
 Cast of mistrust, in haste no credite give. 
 
 To this or that,, that breedeth freendes unrest : 
 
 No doubt at all^ but trust me, if I Hue, 
 
 My deedes shall prooue, that all is for the best. 
 
 And this beleeve, the Sea shall ceasse to flowe. 
 
 The Sunne to shine within the setled skie; 
 
 All thinges on earth, shall leaue to spring and growe. 
 
 Yea euery foule shall want his winges to flye, 
 
 Eare I in thought shall seeme once to retyre. 
 If you my freend remaine, as I desyre: 
 Now lose no time, but use that whyle you may. 
 Forget not this, a dogge shall haue a day. 
 Finis. R. D. 
 
 12. He desyreth exchange of lyfe. 
 
 The day delayed, of that I most doo wishe. 
 Wherewith I feede and starue, in one degree; 
 With wishe and want, still serued in one dishe, 
 Aliue as dead, by proofe as you may sowe: 
 To whom of olde this proverbe well it serues, 
 Whyle grasse dooth grow the seelly Horse he starves. 
 
 Tweene these extreames, thus doo I ronne the race; 
 Of my poore life, this certaynely I knowc j 
 Tweene would and want, unwarely that dooth passe. 
 More swift then shot, out of the archers bowe. 
 As Spider drawes her line in vayne all day, 
 I watch the net, and others have the pray. 
 
 And 
 
of fiApiuic tituisic0. 
 
 And as by proofe, ihe greedy doggc doth gnaw 
 The bared bone, all onely for tlu; taste : 
 So, to and fro, ihis, lothsome lite I drawe. 
 With fancies forsl, and fled with vaine repast. 
 Narcissus brought unto the water brinke. 
 So aye thirst I, the more that I doo drinke. 
 
 Loe thus I dye, and yet I sceme not sicke. 
 With smart unscenc, myselfe myselfe I wcare, 
 With prone desire, and power that is not quickc, 
 With hope aloft nowe drenched in dispaire, 
 Trayned in trust, for no reward ussignd. 
 The more I haste, the more I come behinde. 
 
 With hurt to hcale, in frozen yse to frye. 
 
 With losse to laugh, this a woonderous case: 
 
 Fast fetrcd here, is forste away to flye. 
 
 As hunted Hare, that Hound hath in the chase. 
 
 With winges and spurrcs, for all the haste I njakc. 
 
 As like to lose, as for to drawe the stake. 
 
 The dayes be long, that hang upon desert. 
 The life is irke of ioyes that be delayed : 
 The time is short, for to requite the smart. 
 That dooth proceede of promise long unpaid ; 
 That to the last of this ray fainting breath, 
 I wishe exchange of life, for happy death. 
 Fmis. L. Faux 
 
 13. Of the instahilitie of youth. 
 
 When I looke backe, and in myselfe behold 
 
 The wandring wayes, that youth could not descry: 
 
 And markt the fearefull course that youth did holde. 
 
 And mette in mind cache steppe youth strayed awry; 
 
 My knees I bowc, and from my hart I call, 
 
 O Lordc, forget these faultes and follies all. 
 
12 -Cftc ^aratitsic 
 
 For nowe I see, how voyde youth is of skill, 
 I see also his prime time and his end : 
 I doo confesse my faultes and all my yll. 
 And sorrowe sore, for tha^; I did offend. 
 And with a mind repentant of all crimes 
 Pardon I aske for youth, ten thousand times. 
 
 The humble hart hath daunted the proud mind 5 
 Eke wysedome hath geven ignorance a fall: 
 And \i'it hath taught, that folly could not finde. 
 And age hath youth her subiect and her thrall. 
 Therefore I pray, O Lorde of life and trueth. 
 Pardon the faultes committed in my youth. 
 
 Thou that didst graunt the wyse king his request: 
 Thou that in Whale thy prophet didst preserue: 
 Thou that forgauest the wounding of thy brest; 
 Thou that did'.t save the theefe in state to sterve : 
 Thou only God, the gever of all grace: 
 Wipe out of mind the path of youthes vaine race. 
 
 Thou that, by power, to lyfe didst rayse the dead : 
 Thou that of grace restorest the blinde to sight: 
 Thou that for loue, thy life and loue out bled : 
 Thou that of favour madest the lame goe ryght : 
 Thou that canst heale, and helpe in all assayes, 
 Forgeve the gilth, that grewe in youthes vayne wayes. 
 
 And nowe since I, with faith and doubtlesse minde, 
 Doo fly to thee by prayer, to appease thy yre: 
 And since that thee I onely seeke to finde. 
 And hope by faith, to attayne ray iust desyrej 
 Lorde, minde no more youthes error and unskill. 
 And able age to doo thy holy will. 
 
 Finis. L. Faux. 
 
of anpinte tieuijJt^, 13 
 
 14. Most happy is that stale alone, 
 
 iVhere woordes and deeJes agree in one. 
 
 By painted woordes the silly simple man 
 
 To trustlesse trappe is trayned now and than. 
 
 And by conseyte of swecte alluring tale 
 
 He bites the baites, that breedes his bitter bale. 
 
 To beawties blast cast not thy rolling eye: 
 
 In pleasaunt grccne doo stinging Serpent lye. 
 
 The golden Pill hath but a bitter taste: 
 
 In glittering glasse a poyson ranckest plaste. 
 
 So pleasant woordes, without perfourming deedes. 
 
 May well be deemed, to spring of Darnel seedes. 
 
 The freendly deede is it, that quickly tryes; 
 
 Where trusty faith, and freendly meaning lyes. 
 
 That state therefore most happy is to nie, 
 
 Where woordes and deedes, most faithfully agree. 
 
 My freend, yf thou wylt keepe thy honest name. 
 Fly from the blotte of barking slaundcrs blame. 
 Let not in woord thy promise be more large. 
 Then thou in deede art wylling to discharge. 
 Abhorred is that false dissembling broode. 
 That seemes to beare two faces in one hoode. 
 To say a thing, and not to ineane the same, 
 Wyll turne at length to lo'^e of thy good name. 
 Wherefore my freend, let double dealing goe ; 
 Insteade whereof, let perfect plaincnesse flowe. 
 Doo thou no more in idle woordes exceede. 
 Then thou intendes to doo, in very deede. 
 £o good report, shall sprcadc thy woortby prayse, 
 For being inst in woord and deede alwaycs. 
 
 You worldly wightes, that worldly doocrs are. 
 Before you let your woord slip footth to farre, 
 Consydcr wcl, what inconuenience springes, 
 Uy breathe of promise made, in lawfuli ihingcs. 
 
 FirsI 
 Biii 
 
i4 e&e l@arat)igc 
 
 First God mislikes where such deceitc dooth swarrae ; 
 Next, it redoundeth to thy neighbours harme: 
 And last of all, which is not least of all, ■ 
 For such oflence thy conscience sutler shall : 
 As barren ground&s brings foorth but rotten weedes; 
 From barren woordes so fruitelesse chatfe proceedes. 
 As sauerie flowres doo spring in fertill ground ; 
 So trusty freendes by tryed freendes are found. 
 To shunne therefore the woorst, that may ensue. 
 Let deedes alway approue thy sayinges true. 
 Finis. F. K.- 
 
 15. TP'ho wyll aspire to dignitie. 
 By learnyng must advaunced be. 
 
 The poore that Hue in needic rate, 
 By learning doo great richesse gayne : 
 The rich that Hue in wealthy state, 
 By learnyng doo their wealth mainteyne. 
 Thus ritch and poore are furthered still 
 By sacred rules of learned skill. 
 
 All fond conceites of franticke youth 
 
 The golden gyft of learning stayes: 
 
 Of doubtful! thinges to searche the traeth. 
 
 Learning sets foortb the reddy wayes. 
 
 O happy him doo I repute, 
 
 Whose brest is fraught with learninges fruitc. 
 
 There growes no Corne within the feelde. 
 That Oxe and Plough did neuer tyll : 
 Right so the mind no fruite can yeeldc. 
 That is not lead by learninges skill; 
 Of ignoraunoe comes rotten weedes. 
 Of learnyng springes right noble deedes. 
 
 lake 
 
of tjnpiuic t)Eutsic0» 15 
 
 Like as the Captayne hath respect 
 
 To traync his souldiers in aray : 
 
 So Lcnrning doolh mans mind direct, 
 
 By Ferities staffe his lyfe to stay. 
 
 Though Frecndes and Fortune waxeth skant. 
 
 Yet learned men shall neuer want. 
 
 You Impes therefore in youth be sure 
 To fraught your raindes with learned thinges : 
 For Learning is the fountayne pure 
 Out from the which all glory springes. 
 Wlio so therefore wyll glory winne, 
 With Learning fyrst mustneedes beginne. 
 Finis. F. K. 
 
 16. Mans Jtitling life fynd.es surest slay, 
 JFhere sacred Ferine leareth sway. 
 
 The sturdy Rocke, for all his strength. 
 By raaging Seas is rent in twayne: 
 The Marble stone is pearst at length, 
 Wilh little droppes of drislyng rayne. 
 The Oxc dooth yeelde unto the yoke, 
 'I'he Steele obcycth the hammer stroke. 
 
 The stately Staggc, that seemes so stout. 
 By yalpyng Houndes at bay is set: 
 The swiftest Bird, that fleis about, 
 Is caught at length in Fowlers net. 
 The greatest Fishe in deepest Brooke 
 Is scone deceiued with subtil hooke. 
 
 Yc man himselfe, unto whose wyll 
 All thinges are bounden to obay, 
 F(;r all his witle, and woorthy skill, 
 Doolh fade at length, and fall away. 
 
16 CSe faratiisie 
 
 There is nothing, but time dooth wast ; 
 The Heauens, the Earth, consume at last. 
 
 But Vertue sittes triumphing still, 
 Upon theTione of glorious Fame: 
 Though spitefull Death mans body kill. 
 Yet hurtes be not his vertuous name. 
 By life or Death, what so he tides. 
 The state of Vertue neuer slides. 
 Finis. M. T. 
 
 17. Nothing is comparalle vnlo a faithful! freend. 
 
 Sith this our time of Freendship is so scant, 
 Sith Freendship nowe in euery place dooth want, 
 Sith every man of Freendship is so hoUowe, 
 As no man rightly knowes which way to followe, 
 Sease not my Muse, cease not in these our dayes, 
 To ryng loude peales of sacred Freendships prayse, 
 
 If men be nowe their own peculier freendes. 
 And to their neighbours Freendship none pretendes, 
 If men of Freendship shewe them selues so bare, 
 And of their brethren take no freendly care, 
 Forbeare not then my Muse, nor feare not then. 
 To ryng disprayse on these unfreendly men. 
 
 Did man of Freendship knowe the mightie power; 
 Howe great effectes it woorketh euery houre. 
 What store of hidden freendship it retaynes ; 
 How still it powreth foorth aboundaunt gaynes ; 
 Man would with thee my Muse, iu these our dayes, 
 Ryng out loud peales of sacred Freendships prayse. 
 
 Freendship releeueth mans necessitie, 
 Freendship comfortcth mans adversitie. 
 Friendship augmenteth mans prosperitie, 
 Frendship preferres man to felicitie. 
 
 Then 
 
of tmpntic ticuisicr. 17 
 
 Then ryng my muse, ryng out in these our daycs, 
 lling out loude peaks, of sacred Freendships prayse. 
 
 Of Frecndship, groweth loue and charitie. 
 By Frecndship, men are linked in amitic : 
 From Frecndship, springoth all commoditie. 
 The fruite of Freendship is fidelitie. 
 Oh ryng my Muse, ryng out in these our dayes, 
 Pealc upon peale, of sacred Freendships prayse. 
 
 That man with man, true Freendship may embrace. 
 That man to man, may shewe a freendly face : 
 That cuery man, may sowe such freendly seedes. 
 As Freendship may be found in freendly deedes. 
 And ioyne with me, my Muse, in these our dayes. 
 To ryng loude peales of sacred Freendships prayse. 
 Finis. F: K. 
 
 18. Respise finem. 
 
 To be as wyse as Cato was. 
 Or ritch as Cresus in his life: 
 To hane the strength of Hercules, 
 Wliiche did subdue by force or strife. 
 What helpeth it when Death doth call. 
 The happy endeexccedeth all. 
 
 The Ritche may well the Poore rcleeue. 
 The Rulers may redrcsse eche wrong : 
 The Learned may good eounsell geve. 
 But marke the ende, of this ray song. 
 Who dootli these thinges, happy they call. 
 Their happy ende exceedeth all. 
 
 The happiest end, in these our dayes. 
 That all doo seeke, both small and great : 
 
tS Cht f aratilge 
 
 Is eyther for Fame, or els for Praise, 
 Or who may sitte in highest seate. 
 But of these thinges, hap what hap shall. 
 The happy ende exceedeth all. 
 
 A good beginning oft we see. 
 But seldome standyng at one stay: 
 For fewe do lyke the mesne degree. 
 Then praise at parting some men say. 
 The thing whereto eache wighte is thrall. 
 The happy ende exceedeth all. 
 
 The meane estate, that happy life 
 Which liueth under governaunce: 
 Who seekes no hate, nor breedes no strife, 
 But takes in vvoorth his happy chaunce. 
 If contentation him befall, 
 His happy end, exceedeth all. 
 
 The longer lyfe that we desyre 
 The more offence dooth dayly grower 
 The greater paine it dooth require. 
 Except the Judge some mercie shewe. 
 Wherefore I thinke, and euer shall. 
 The happy ende exceedeth all. 
 Finis D ; S. 
 
 1 9 He persuadeth his friend fro m the 
 fond effecles of loue. 
 
 Why art thou bound, and maist goe free. 
 Shall reason yeelde to raging wyll.' 
 Is thraldomc like to libertie ? 
 Wylt thou exchange thy good for ill.> 
 Then shalt thou learne a childishe play. 
 And of eche part to taste and proue. 
 The lookers on, shall iudge and say, 
 Loe this i« he that lines by loue. 
 
 Thy 
 
of iiaumic ticuigcs. 19 
 
 Tliy wittes with thoughtes, shal stand at slay, 
 Thy head shall hauc but heauie rest: 
 Thy eyes shall watche for wanton prayes. 
 Thy tongue shall shewe tliy harics request. 
 Thy cares shall hearc a thousand noyse. 
 Thy hand shall put tliy pen to painc : 
 And in the ende thou sliait dispraise, 
 1 he life so spent, for such small gaine. 
 
 If leue and list might neuer cope. 
 Nor youth to runne from reasons race: 
 Nor yf strong sute might winnc sure hope, 
 I would lesse blame a loners case. 
 For loue is hotte, with great desire. 
 And sweete delight makes youth so fond. 
 That little sparkes wyl prooue great fyre. 
 And bring free haites to endlessc bond. 
 Finis. 
 
 20. JFantyng his dcsyre he complayneth. 
 
 The sayling ships with ioy at lenght, do louche the long desired port. 
 The hewing axe y" oke doth waste, yf battring canon breakes the fort. 
 Hard hagard Haukes slope to ye lure, wild colts in timey' bridle tames. 
 There is nothing so out of ure, but to his kinde long time it frames. 
 Yet this I 6nde in time, no time can winne my sute. 
 Though oft the tree I clime, I can not catche the fruite. 
 
 And yet the pleasant branches oft, in yeelding wyse to me doo bowe. 
 When I would touch, they spring aloft, sone are tliey gone, I wot nothowe. 
 Thus I pursue y<^ fleting flood, like Tantalus in liel belowe, » 
 Would god my ease she understood, which can ful sone releue my woe : 
 Which yf to her were knowen, the fruite were surely mine. 
 She would not let me grone, and brouse upon the rine 
 
 But if my ship with tackle turne, with rented sailes must needcs retire. 
 And streme and wind bad plainely sworne, by force to hinder my desire 
 
 Lyke 
 Cii 
 
20 Cfie^aratiige 
 
 Like one that strikes upon y' rocks, ray weerie wrack I should bewailc 
 And learne to knowe false fortunes mocks, who smiles on me to small 
 Yet sith she only can, my rented ship restore, (auaile: 
 
 To helpe her wracked man, but once I seeke no more. 
 
 Finis. M. Edwardes. 
 
 21. Trye l-efore you trust. 
 
 In freendes are found a heape of doubtes, that double dealing use, 
 A swarme of such I could finde out, whose craft I can accuse: 
 A face for loue, a hart for hate, these faigned freendes can beare, 
 A tongue for troth, a head for wyles, to hurl eche simple care. 
 In humble port is poyson pact, that plainenesse can not spie 
 Which credites all, and can not see, where stinging serpentes l)'e: 
 Through hastie trust, the harmelesse hait, is easely hampred in. 
 And made beleeve it is good golde when it is lead and tin. 
 The first deceit that bleares mine eyes, is faigned faith profest. 
 The second trappe, is grating talke, that gripes eche strangers brest. 
 The third deceit, is greeting woordes, with colours painted out. 
 Which biddes suspect to feare no smart, nor dread no dangerous rout. 
 The fourth and last, is long repaire, which cveepes in freendships lap: 
 And dayly hauntes, that under trust, deuiseth many a trap. 
 Lo how talse freendes, can frame a fetch, to winne the wil with wyles. 
 To sauce their sleightes with sugred sops, & shadowe harme in smiles. 
 To seme their lustes, are sundry sortes, by practise divers kindes 
 Some carries honny in their mouthes, and venime in their mindes. 
 Mee thinkes the stones within the streetes, should crie out in this case. 
 And euery one that doth them meete, should shunne their doable face. 
 Finis D. S. 
 
 22. A Lady forsaken, complayneth. 
 
 If pleasures be in painefulnesse, in pleasures doth my body rest. 
 If ioyes accorde with carefulnesse, a ioyfuU hart is in my brest : 
 If prison strong be libertie, in libertie long have I been. 
 If ioyes accord with miserie, who can compare a lyfe to myne : 
 
 Who 
 
of Danutic UEui0C0« 21 
 
 Who can unbind that is sore bound ? who can make free y' is sore thrall ; 
 Or how can any meanes be found to comfort such a wreich wiihalP 
 None can but he >' hath my hart, convert my paines to comfort then. 
 Yet since his seruant I became, most like a bondman iiaue I bccnc : 
 Since first in bondage I became, my woord and dcedc was ever such. 
 That neiier once he could be blame, except from louing him too much. 
 Whicli I can iudge no iust offence, nor cause that I deservd disdayne. 
 Except he mcane through false prete"ce, through forged loue to make a 
 Nay, nay, alas; my fained thoughts my fre'ded & my fained ruth (trayne. 
 My pleasures past my present plaints, shew wel I meane but to much 
 But since 1 can not him attaine, against my wil I let him goe, (truth ; 
 And lest he glorie at my paine, 1 wyl attempt to cloke my woe. 
 Youth, learne by me, but do not proue, for 1 haue proued to my paine. 
 What greevous greefes do grow by loue, & wliat it is to love in vaine. 
 Finis M.D. 
 
 23. Finding worldly ioycs but •vanities lie wysheth death. 
 Forlorne in filtliy froward fate, wherein a thousand cares I finde. 
 By whom I doo lament my stnte, annoide with fond afflicted minde: 
 
 A wretche in woe, and dare not crie, 
 
 I line, and yet I wishe to die. 
 The day in dole, that seemcth long, I pas with sighcs & hcauy cheere. 
 And with these eyes I vewc the wrong, that I sustainc by louing here : 
 
 Where my mishappes as rife doo dwell. 
 
 As plagues within the pitt of hell. 
 A wailing wight I walke .^lone, in desart dennes there to complaine. 
 Among the sauagc sort to monc, 1 flee my frends where they remaine: 
 
 And pleasure take to shun the sight, 
 
 Wliere erst I felt my checfe delight. 
 A captiue clapt in chaynes of care, lapt in the lawes of lethall loue. 
 My fleshe & bones consumed bare, with crauling greefes ful strange to 
 
 Though hap dooth bidde me hope at least, (proue: 
 
 Whiles grasse dooth growe, yet starues the beast. 
 A secged fort with forraine force, for want of ayde, must yeelde at last. 
 So must my weeried pined corse, submit itselfe to bitter last : 
 
 Of crauling care that carkes my brest, 
 
 Tyll hop or death shall breede my rest. 
 Finis. F. M. 
 
 He 
 C iii 
 
^2 CSc l^aratiige 
 
 24. Hauing marryed a woorthy Lady 
 and taken away by death, he com- 
 playneth his mishajt. 
 
 In youth when I at large did leade, my life in luslie libeitie, 
 
 When heuy thoughtes no one did spreade, to let my pleasant tantesie. 
 
 No fortune seemd, so hard could fall. 
 
 This freedome then, that might make thrall. 
 And twentie yeres [ skarse had spent, \vhe~ to make ful my happy fdte. 
 Both treasures great were on me cast, with landes and titles of estate: 
 
 So as more blest then I stood than. 
 
 Eke as me thought was neuer man. 
 For of Dame Fortune who is he coulde moredesyre by iust request. 
 The health, with wealih and libertie, al which at once 1 thus possest: 
 
 But maskyng in this ioly ioy, 
 
 A soden syght, prooud al a toy. 
 For passyng on these merie dayes, with new deuise of pleasures great. 
 And now & then to viewe the rayes, of beauties workes with cunning fret: 
 
 In heavenly hewes, al which as one, 
 
 I oft behelde, but bounde to none. 
 And one day rowlyng thus my eyes, upon these blessed wights at ease, 
 Among the rest one dyd I see, who strayght ray wandryng lookes dyd 
 
 And stayed them firrae, but such a syght, (sease 
 
 Of beautieyet sawe neuer wyght. 
 What shal I seke to praise it more, where tongs can not praise ye same. 
 But to be short to louers lore, I strayght ray senses al dyd frame: 
 
 And were it wyt, or were it chaunce, 
 
 I woonne the Garlande in this daunce. 
 And thus wher I before had thought, no hap my fortune might encrese, 
 A double blis this chance forth brought, so did my ladies loue me plese: 
 
 Her fayth so firme, and constant suche. 
 
 As neuer hart can prayse too muche. 
 But now with torments strange I tast ye fickle stay of fortune's whele. 
 And where she raysde from height to cast, with greater force, of greefe 
 
 For from this hap of soden frowne, (to feele : 
 
 Of Princes face she threwe me downe. 
 
of Oauiuic ticmsc0, 23 
 
 And thus exchange now hath It made my libcrtie a thing most deare. 
 In hateful prison for to fade, where sundred from my louing feare : 
 
 My wealth and health, siandes at like stay. 
 
 Obscurely to consume away. 
 And last when humainc force was none, could part our loue wherin we 
 My ladyes life alas is gone, most cruel death hath it bcrcued : (livcd- 
 
 Wbose vertues, her, to God, hath wonnc, 
 
 And leaft me here, a man undone. 
 Finis. F. G. 
 
 25. A woorthy dittic, song lefore the Queenes 
 Maieslie at Brislowe. 
 
 Mistrust not troth, that trucly meanes, for euery ielous freke 
 Insteade of wrong, condemne not right, no hidde" wrath to wreke: 
 Look on the light of faultlesse life, how bright her vertues shine, 
 And measure out her steppes eche one, by leuel and by line. 
 
 Deeme eche desert by vpright gesse, whereby your prayse shal liue. 
 If malice would be match with might, let hate no iudgement geue: 
 Enforse no feare with wresting wittes, in quiet conscience brest, 
 Lend not your eares to busie tongues, which breedeth much vurest: 
 
 In doubtfull driftes wade not to farre, it weeries but the mind, 
 Sceke not to search the secret harts, whose thoughtes are hard to find ; 
 Auoide from you those hateful! heads, that helpes to heape mishapp. 
 Be slowe to heare the flatterers voyce, which crecpeth in your lapp ; 
 
 Embrace their loue that wills you good, and sport not at their praise. 
 Trust not too much vnto your selfe, for tecblc are your .>,taies: 
 Howe can your seate be setled fast, or stand on stedfast ground^ 
 So propped up with hollowe hartes, whose suertie is unsound. 
 
 Gevc faith to those that feare for loue, and not that loue for feare. 
 Regard not them that force compels, to please you euery where: 
 All this is well waide and borne away, shall stablishe long your state. 
 Continually with perfect peace, in spite of pufBng hate. 
 Finis. D. S. 
 
 His 
 
24 Cge pacatiige 
 
 26. His good name being llemiihed, he bewayleth. 
 
 Fraud is the front of Fortune past all recoveiie, 
 
 I stayles stand, to abide the shocke of shame and infamie. 
 
 My life through lingring long is lodge, in lare of lothsome wayes, 
 
 My death delaide to keepe from life, the harme of haplesse dayes ; 
 
 My sprites, my hnrt, my witte and force in deepe distresse are dround, 
 
 The only losse of my good name, is of these greefes the ground. 
 
 And since my mind, my wit, my voyce, and tongue are weake. 
 To utter, mooue, deuise, conceiue, sound foorth, declare and sprake: 
 Such pearsing plaintes, as answeare might, or would my wofull case 
 Helpe, craue I must, and craue 1 wyll, with tcares upon my face : 
 Of al that may in heauen or hell, in earth or ayre be found. 
 To wayle with me this losse of mine, as of these greefes the ground. 
 
 Helpe gods, helpe saintes, helpe sprites & powers, y' in the heauen doo 
 Helpe ye y' are to wayle aye woont, ye howling hounds of hel : (dwel, 
 Helpe man, helpe beasts, help birds, & wormes y' on yf earth doth toile, 
 Helpe fishe, helpe foule, that flocks and feedes upon the salt sea soyle : 
 Helpe eccho that in ayre dooth flee, shryl voyces to resound, 
 To wayle this losse of my good name, as of these greefes the ground. 
 Finis E. O. 
 
 27. Of Fortunes power. 
 
 Policrates whose passing happe causd him to lose his fate, 
 A golden ryng cast in the seas, to change his constant state, 
 And in a fishe yet at his bourd.the same he after found ; 
 Thus Fortune loe, to whom she takes, for bountie dooth abound. 
 
 The myzers unto might she mountes, a common case we see. 
 And mightie in great miserie, she sets in lowe degree : 
 Whom she to day dooth reare on hie, upon her whirling wheele. 
 To morowe next she dingeth downe. and casteth at her heele. 
 
 No 
 
of biipntic DciiiiScsf, 25 
 
 No measure liath shee in her gifts, sheedoth reward cache sort. 
 The wise that coiinsrll haue no more then fooles that maketh sport; 
 She vsetU ncuer partiall hands for to offend, or please, 
 Geve me good Fortune all men sayes, and throw me in the seas. 
 
 It is no fault or worthhies, that makes men fall or rise, 
 I ratiier be borne Fortunate, then to be uery wise; 
 The blindest man right soonc, that by good Fortune guided is. 
 To whomc that pleasant Fortune pipes can ncuer daunce amis. 
 Finis. M. Edwardc-s, 
 
 28. Tkouoh Triumph after lloudi/ warns, the greatest brags do leare; 
 Yel triumph of a conquered mhide the crowne of Fame shall weare. 
 
 Who so doth marke the carelesse life of these unhappie dayes. 
 And sees what small and slender hold ihc state of vertuc stayes; 
 He findes that this accursed trade, proecedelh of this ill. 
 That man be given too much to yeelde to their untamed will. 
 
 In lacke of taming witlesse wil, the poore we often see 
 
 Enuies the riteli, because that he his equall cannot bee: 
 
 The rich aduannct to might by wealth, from wrong doth not refrainc. 
 
 But will opprcsscth weaker sort to heape excessiue gaine. 
 
 If Fortune were so blinde to geue to one man, what he will, 
 
 A world would not suffisc the same if he might haue his fill : 
 
 We wish, we scarche, we striuc for all, and haue no more therin 
 
 Then hath y^ slaue, when death doth come, though Crf.>K.? welth wewiu. 
 
 In getting much, we get but care, such brittle wealth to keepe. 
 The rich within his walles of stone doth neuer soundly sleepe: 
 When poore in weake and slender house, doe fcarc no losse of wealth. 
 And have no further care but this to keepe them selues in health. 
 
 Affection may not hide the sword of sway in iudgement seat, 
 
 Least partiall law doe execute the lawe in causes great : 
 
 Rut if the rainde in constant state affection quite doe leaue. 
 
 The higher state shall haue their rights, the poore no wrong receauc. 
 
 D i 
 
S6 Cfie paratiiisc 
 
 It IS accompted greater praise to Ceasars loftie state. 
 Against his vanquist foes in warres to bridle wrekefuU hate:' 
 Then when to Rome he had subdued, the people long unknowne, 
 Wherby as farre as land was found the same abrode was blowne. 
 
 If honour can selfe will refuse, and iustice be vpright, 
 And private state desires but that which good appeares in sight : 
 Then vertue shall with soueraigne show, to euery eye reueak 
 A heauenly life, a wealefull state, a happie common weale. 
 
 Let vertue then the Triumph win andgouerne all your deedes. 
 Your yeelding to her sober heastes immortal glory breedes: 
 Shee shall upreare your worthy name, shew then unto the skies; 
 Her beames shall shine in graue obscure where shrined carkesse lies. 
 Finis M. Edwaules. 
 
 Who so will be accompted wise, and truely claime the same. 
 By ioyning vertue to his deedes he niustatchieue Uie same: 
 But fewe there be that seeke thereby true wisedome to attaine, 
 O God, so rule our hearts therefore such foudnesse to refraine. 
 
 The wisedome which we most esleeme, in this thing doth consist. 
 With glorious talke to shew in wordes our wisedome when we list : 
 Yet not in talke but seemely deedes our wisedome we should place. 
 To speake so faire and doe but ill doth wisedome quite disgrace. 
 
 To bargaine well and shunne the losse, a wisedome counted is. 
 And thereby through the greedie coyne no hope of grace to mis. 
 To seke by honoure to aduaunce his name to brittle praise. 
 Is wisedome which we daily see increaseth in our dayes. 
 
 But heavenly wisedome sower scemes, to hard for them to win,. 
 But weary of the sute they seeme, when they doe once begin : 
 It teacheth us to frame our life, while vital! breth we haue. 
 When it dissolueth earthly masse, the soul from death to saue. 
 
 By 
 
of Dniuuic Drmsscs, 
 
 By feare of God to rule our steppes from sliding into vice, 
 A wisedome is which we neglect, although of greater price: 
 A poynt of wisedome also this, we commonly esteemc 
 That euery man should be in deede, that he desires to seeme. 
 
 To bridle that desire of gaine which lorcetli us to ill, 
 Our hawtic stomackcs Lord reprcsse, to tame presuming will: 
 This is the wisdome that we should aboue cache thing desire, 
 O henuenly God from sacred throne, that grace in vs inspire. 
 
 And print in our repugnant hearts the rules of wisedome true. 
 That all our decdes in worldly life may like thereof insue: 
 Thou onely art the lining spring from whomc this wisedome flowes, 
 O washe therewith oursinfuil hcartes from vice that therin growes. 
 Finis M. Edwardcs 
 
 30. ^ frendly admonition. 
 
 Ye stately wightes that liuc in quiet rest. 
 
 Through worldly wealth wiiich God hath giuen to you. 
 
 Lament with Icares and sights from dolefuU brest. 
 
 The shame and power that vice obtaineth now. 
 
 Behold how God doth daily profer grace. 
 
 Yet we disdaine repentance to embrace. 
 
 The suddcs of sinnc doe sucke into the mind. 
 
 And cancred vice doth vcrlue quite e.xpel. 
 
 No chaungc to good alasse can resting finde: 
 
 Our wicked hearts so stoutly doe rebell. 
 
 Not one there is that luisteth to amend. 
 
 Though God from heaven his daily threatcs doe send. 
 
 We are so slow to chaunge our blamcfuU life. 
 We are so prest to snatche aluring vice: 
 Such greedic hartes on euery side be rife, 
 So few that guide their will by counseil wisej 
 To let our icares lament the wretched case. 
 And call to God for vndeserued grace. 
 
 You 
 Dii 
 
28 12tSe ^aratiigc 
 
 You worldly wiglites that haue your fancies fixt 
 On slipper ioy of terreine pleasure here; 
 J,et some remorse in all your deedes be mixt, 
 Whiles you have time let some redresse appere: 
 Of sodaine Death the houre you shall not know. 
 And looke for Death although it seemeth slow. 
 
 Oh be no iudge in other mens offence, 
 But purge thy selfe and seeke to make thee free, 
 Let euery one applie his diligence, 
 A chaunge to good with in him selfe to see : 
 O God direct our feete in such a stay. 
 From cancred vice to shame the hatefuU way. 
 Finis. R.Hill. 
 
 31. Sundrie men, siindrie ajfectes. 
 
 In euery wight some sondrie sort of pleasure I doe finde. 
 Which after he doth seeke to ease his toyling minde, 
 Diana, with her training chase, of hunting had delight. 
 Against the fearefull Deare, shee could direct her shotte aright. 
 The loftieyeares in euery age doth still imbrace the same. 
 The sporl is good, if vertue doe assist the chearefull game. 
 
 Minerva in her chattering armes her courage doth aduance. 
 
 In triall of the bloudie warres, shee giveth luckie chaunce: 
 
 For sanegard men irabrace the same, which doe so needefuU seeme. 
 
 That noble heartes their cheefe delights in vse therof esteeme: 
 
 In warlike games to ride or trie the force of armes they vse. 
 
 And base the man we doe accompt that doth the same refuse. 
 
 The silver sound of musickes cordes doth please Apollo's \vit, 
 A science which the heauens aduaunce where it deserues to sit : 
 A pleasure apt for euery wight, releefe to carefull minde. 
 For woe redresse, for care a salue, for sadnesse helpe we linde. 
 The soueraigne praise of Musicke still, doth cause the Poetes fame. 
 That whliring Spheres, and eke the heauens do hermonie retaine. 
 
 I heard 
 
of ti^v\\tk ticnisicjs, 29 
 
 I heard that these three powers, at variaunce lately fell, 
 Wiiiles cache did praise his ownc delight, the other to excell. 
 Then P'ame, as one indifferent iudge, to ende the case they call. 
 The praise pronounced by her to them, inditVerently doth fall. 
 Diana health and strength maintaine, Miimrua force doth tame. 
 And Musicke geves sweete delight, to further other game. 
 
 These three delightes to hawtie mindes the worthiest are csteraed. 
 If vertue be anexed to them they rightly be so dcmed. 
 With ioy they doe releeue the witte with sorrow oft opprest. 
 And neuer suffer solempne greefe too long in mindc to rest. 
 Be wise in mirth, and secke delight, the same doe not abuse. 
 In honest mirth, a happie ioy we ought not to refuse. 
 Finii. R.Hill. 
 
 32. Time giues experience. 
 
 We reade what paines the powers devine. 
 Through wrath conceiued by some offence. 
 To mortall creatures they assignc 
 Their due desartes for reeompencc. 
 What endlcsse paine they must endure. 
 Which their offences did procure. 
 
 A Gripe doth Titius Liver teare 
 His greedie hungric gorge to fill. 
 And Sisiplius must euer bcarc 
 The rowling stone against the hill. 
 A number moe in hell be found 
 Which thus to eudlcsse paine are bound. 
 
 Yet all the woe that they sustaine. 
 
 Is nothing to the paine of me. 
 
 Which Cometh through the proude disdaine 
 
 Of one, that doth to loue repine: 
 
 Therefore I crie woe worth the hourc. 
 
 Since first I fell in f^enua power. 
 
 The 
 
 D iii 
 
The gnawing gripes of irksome thought, 
 •Consumes my heart with Titius griefe; 
 I also haue full vainly wrought. 
 With Sisiphus without reliefc. 
 Euen when I hope to ende my paine, 
 I must renue ray sute againe. 
 
 Yet will I not seeme so untrue 
 To leave a thing so late begone: 
 A better happe may yet insue. 
 The strongest towres in time be wonne. 
 In time therefore, my trust I place. 
 Who must procure desired grace. 
 Finis. R. H. 
 
 33. Of sufferance cometh ease.. 
 
 To seeme for to reuenge cache wrong in hastie wise. 
 By proofe we see of guiltlcsse men, it hath not bene the guise. 
 In slaunderslothsonie brute, where they condemned bee. 
 With ragelesse moode they suffer wrong, where truth shall trie the" free. 
 These are the patient panges, that passe within the brest 
 Of those, that feele their cause by mine, where wro^g halh right opprest. 
 I know how by suspect, I haue bene iudgd awrie. 
 And graunted giltie in the thing, that cleerely I denie : 
 My faith may me defend, if I might loued be, 
 -God iudge me so, as from the guilt I know me to be free. 
 I wrote but for my selfe, the griefe was all mineowne. 
 As, who would proue extremitie, by proofe it might be knowne. 
 Yet are there suche, that say, they can my meaning deeme. 
 Without respect of this olde trothe, things proue not as they seeme. 
 Wliereby it may befall, in iudgement to be quicke. 
 To make them selues suspect therewith that needeth not to kicke. 
 Yet in resisting wrong I would not haue it thought 
 I do amisse, as though I knew by whome it might be wrought. 
 If any suche there be, that heerewithall be vext. 
 It were their vertue to beware, and deeme me better next. 
 Finis. E. S. 
 
 34. Being 
 
of tiapntic iieuijse^. 51 
 
 34. Being trapped in Lone he complaynclh. 
 
 The hidden woes that swellelh in my hart. 
 Brings forth suche sighes, as filles the aire with smoke : 
 The golden bcames, thorow this his (ierie dart, 
 Dnrc not abide the answere of the stroke. 
 Which stroke, although it daxed mc some dele. 
 Yet nature taught my hand to worke his kinde. 
 Wherewith I raught to pull away the stele. 
 But to my paine, it left my head behinde. 
 That fastned hath my heart so nearc the pith. 
 Except suche salue, as when the scorpion stinges, 
 I might receiuc to heale my woundc therewith: 
 In vaine for ease, my tongne alwayes it ringes. 
 And r for paines, shall pearish through her guilt, 
 That can reioyce, to see how I am spilt. 
 Finis. E. S. 
 
 35. Though Fortune haue sette tliee on hie. 
 Remember yet that ikou shall die. 
 
 To die, Dame nature did man frame. 
 Death is a thing most perfect sure: 
 We ought not natures workcs to blame, 
 Shee made nothing, still to endure. 
 That la we shee made, when wo were borne. 
 That hence we should retourne againe: 
 To render right, we must not scorne. 
 Death is due debt, it is no paine. 
 
 The ciuill lawe, doth bidde restore. 
 
 That thou hast taken up of trust: 
 
 Thy life is lent, thou must therforc 
 
 Repay, except thou be uniust. 
 
 This life is like a poynted race. 
 
 To the ende whcrof when man hath trodc. 
 
 He must returne to former place, 
 
 He may not still reraainc abrode. 
 
 Death- 
 
32 %tt ^ara&ige 
 
 Death hath in the earth aright. 
 
 His power is great it stretcheth farre : 
 
 No Lord, no Prince, can scape his might, 
 
 No creature can his duetie barre. 
 
 The wise, the iust, the strong, the hie. 
 
 The chaste, the meeke, the free of hart. 
 
 The rich, the poore, who can denie, 
 
 Haue yeelded all unto his dart. 
 
 Could Hercules that tamde cache wight? 
 Or else Flisses with his witte? 
 Or layius who had all foresight ? 
 Or chaste Hypolit scape the pitte ? 
 Could Cresus with his bagges of golde ? 
 Or bus with his hungrie paine? 
 Or Signus through his hardinesse bolde? 
 Driue backe the dayes of Death againe. 
 
 Seeing no man then can Death escape. 
 Nor hire him hence for any gaine ; 
 We ought not feare his carraine shape. 
 He onely brings evell men to paine. 
 If thou haue ledde thy life aright. 
 Death is the ende of raiserie : 
 If thou in God hast thy delight. 
 Thou diest to live eternallie. 
 
 Eache wight therefore while he Hues heere. 
 
 Let him thinke on his dying day: 
 
 In midst of wealth, in midst of cheere. 
 
 Let him accoropt he must away. 
 
 This thought, makes man to God a frend. 
 
 This thought doth banish pride and sinne: 
 
 This thought doth bring a man in thend. 
 
 Where he of Death the field shall win. 
 
of tiApUtlf iltlU0C0» 37 
 
 Although tlie purple morning bmgges in brightnes of the nunne, 
 As though he had of chased niglit a glorious conquest wonne: 
 The Time by clay gives place againe to forse of drowsie night. 
 And euery creature is constraind to chaunge his lustie plight. 
 
 Of pleasures all, that heere we taste. 
 
 Wee fecle the conlnir)' at last. 
 In spring, though pleasant Zephirus, hath frutifuU earth inspired, 
 And nature hath each bushe, each branch, «-itIi blossomes l)raue attired: 
 Yet fruites and flowers, as buds and blomes, full (luickly witherd be. 
 When stormie winter comes to kill the somers iolitie: 
 
 By Time are gotte, by Time are lost 
 
 All things, wherein we pleasure most. 
 Although the seas so calmely glide, as daungers none appeare. 
 And dout of stormes in skic is none, king I'lietus shines so cleare: 
 Yf t when the boistrous windes breake out, and raging wanes do swcl. 
 The scely barke now heaucs to heauen now sinkes againe to hel. 
 
 Thus chaunge in eucry thing we see. 
 
 And nothing constant seemes to bee. 
 Who flowcth most in worldly we:illh, of wealth is most unsure. 
 And he that checftly tastes of ioy, doth sometime woe indure: 
 Who vaunteth most of numbred frends, forgoe them all he must. 
 The fairest flesh and liuclest bloud, is turnd at length to dust. 
 
 Experience geues a ceriaine grounde. 
 
 That certen heere h notliing founde. i 
 
 Then tru>.t that which aye remaincs, the blisse of heavens aboue. 
 Which Time, nor Fate, nor Winde, nor Storme, is able to remoue: 
 Trust to that sure celestiall rocke, that restes in glorious ihronc. 
 That hath bene, is, and must be still, our anker holdc alone. 
 
 The world is but a vanitie. 
 
 In heaven secke we our surette. 
 Finis. F. K. 
 
 3". A vertuous Gentle ivoman in the praise of hir Loue 
 
 I am a Virgine faire and free, and freely doe reioyce, 
 I sweetely warble sugred notes, from silver voyce: 
 For which dclighlfull ioyes yet thanke I curtely loue, 
 I3y whose allmightie power, such swcete delitcs I proue. 
 
38 -^Dge ^Baralitsie 
 
 I walke the pleasant fieldes, adornd with liuely greene. 
 And view the fragrant flowres, most iouely to be seene: 
 The purple Columbine, the Cousloppe and the Lillie, 
 The violet sweete, the Daizie and Daffadillie. 
 
 The Woodbines on the hedge, the red Rose and the white. 
 And eche fine flowres else, that rendreth sweete delite: 
 Among the which I choose all those of seemeliest grace, 
 In thought resembling them to my deare louers face. 
 
 His Iouely face I meane, whose golden flouring giftes. 
 His eiier liuing Fame, to loftie skie upliftes: 
 Who louing me I lone, onely for vertues sake. 
 When vertuously to loue all, onely care I take. 
 
 ippear 
 
 Of all which freshe faire flowers, that flowre, that doth 
 In my conceit most like to him I holde so deare : 
 I gather it, I kisse it, and eake deuise with it, 
 Suche kinde of liuely speeche, as is for louers fit. 
 
 And then of all my flowres, I make a garland fine. 
 With which my golden wyer heares together I doe twine: 
 And setie it on my head, so taking that delight. 
 That I would take, had I my louer still in sight. 
 
 For as in goodly flowres, myne eyes great pleasure finde. 
 So are my louers gyftes, most pleasant to my minde: 
 Upon which vertuous gyftes, I make more sweete repast. 
 Than they that, for loue sportes, the sweetest ioyes doc tast. 
 Finis. M. K. 
 
 38. Oppressed with sorowe, he wysheth death. 
 
 If Fortune may enforce the carefull hart to cry, 
 
 And griping greefe constrayne, the wounded wight lament: 
 
 Who then alas to mourne hath greater cause then I, 
 
 Agaynst whose hard mishap, both Heauen and Earth are bent. 
 
 For 
 
of linuiitic Dcuiiacst, 39 
 
 For whom no htipe reraaiiies, for whom no hope is left: 
 From whom all happy happes is fled, and pleasure quite bereft : 
 Whose lyfe nought can prolong, whose health nought can assure. 
 Whose death, oh pleasant port of peace, no creature can procure : 
 Whose passed proofe of pleasant ioy, 
 Mischaunce hath chaunged to grecfes anoy : 
 And loe, whose hope of belter diy. 
 Is ouerwhelmd with long delay : 
 
 Oh hard mishap. 
 Eache thing I plainely see, whose vertues may auaile. 
 To ease the pinching payne, which gripes the groning wyght: 
 By Phisickes sacred skill, whose rule dooth seldome fayle. 
 Through labours long inspect is playnely brought to lyght. 
 I knowe, there is no fruitc, no leafe, no roote, norynde, 
 Nohearbe, no plant, no iuyce, no gumme, no mettal deepely roin'd: 
 No Pcarle, no Precious stone, ne Jeme of rare effect. 
 Whose vertues, learned Gallcm bookes, at lardge doo not detect. 
 Yet all theyr force can not appease 
 The furious fyttes of my disease. 
 Nor any dnigge of Phisickes art. 
 Can ease the greefe that gripes my hart : 
 
 Oh straunge disease. 
 I heare the wyse affyrme, that Nature hath in siorf, 
 A thousande secrete salues, which wysdome hath out found. 
 To coolethe scorching heate of euery smarting sore: 
 And healelh deepest scarre, though greeuous be tlie wound. 
 The auncient prouerbe sayes, that none so festred greefe 
 Dooth grow, for which the gods them selues haue not ordeynd 
 But I by proofe doo knowe, such prouerbes to be vayne, (relicfe. 
 And thinke that Nature neuer kncwe, the plague which I sustayne. 
 And so not knowing my distresse. 
 Hath leaft my greefe remedilesse. 
 For why, the heavens for me prepare, 
 To liue in thought, and dye in care : 
 
 Oh lastyng pnyne. 
 By chaunge of ayre I see, by haute of hcalthfuU soyle. 
 By dyet duely kept, grose humours arc cxpeld: 
 
 I knowc 
 £ii 
 
36 'Cht ^atamt 
 
 I knowe that greefes of minde and inwarde heartes turmoile. 
 
 By faithftdl frendes aduise, in time may be lepeLl. 
 
 Yet all this nought auailes, to kill that me anoyes : 
 
 1 meane to steppe these floudes of care, that ouerflow my ioyes : 
 
 No none exchaunge of place, can chaunge my lucklesse lot. 
 
 Like one I line, and must so die, whorae Fortune hath forgot. 
 
 No counsell can preuaile with me, 
 
 Nor sage aduise with greefe agree: 
 
 For he that feeles the paines of hell. 
 
 Can neuer hope in heauen to dwell : 
 
 Oh deepe despaire. 
 What liues on earth but I, whose trauaile reapes no gaine ? 
 The vvearyed Horse and Oxe, in stall and stable rest: 
 The ante with sommers toyle, beares out the winters paine, 
 The Fowle that flies all day, at night retournes to rest. 
 The Ploughmans weary worke, amid the winters mire. 
 Rewarded is with somers gaine, which yeeleds him double hire. 
 The sillye laboring soule, which drudges from day to day. 
 At night, his wages truely paide, contented goth his way. 
 And comming home his drowsie lied 
 He cowcheth close in homely bed: 
 Wherein no sooner downe he lies, 
 But sletpe hath straight possest his eyes: 
 
 Oh happie man. 
 The souldier biding long the brunt of mortall warres. 
 Where life is neuer free, from dint of deadly foyle. 
 At last comes ioyfuU home, though mangled all with scarres. 
 Where frankly, voyde of feare, he spendes the gotten spoyle. 
 The Pirate lying long amidde the fooming floodes. 
 With euery flawe in hazard is, to loose both life and goodes; 
 At length findes view of land, where wished Porte he spies. 
 Which once obtained, among his mates, he partes the gotten prise. 
 Thus euery man, for trauaile past, 
 Doth reape a iust reward at last : 
 But I alone, whose troubled minde 
 In seeking rest, vnrest doth finde: 
 
 Oh lucklesse lotte. 
 
 Oh curssed 
 
of Daimtic Ucuigirci, d'l 
 
 Ob curssed caitifc wretche, whose heauie harde mishapps, 
 Doth wish tenne ihousandi; times, that thou hadst not bene borne, 
 Since fate hathc thcc condemned, to line in sorrowes lappe. 
 Where wayliiiges waste thy life, of all redresse forlorne. 
 \Vh ft shall thy griefe appease ? who shall thy torment stay ? 
 Wilt thou thy selfe, with miirthoring handcs, enforce thy owne 
 No, farre be thnu from me, myselfe to stoppc my breath, (decay? 
 The gods forbid, whom I besceche, to worke my ioyes by death : 
 For lingering length of lolhed life. 
 Doth stirre in me such mortall strife, 
 That svhilcs for life and death I crie. 
 In Death I liuc andliuing die: 
 
 Oh froward fate. 
 Loe heere my hard mishappc, loe heere my straunge disease, 
 Loe heere my deepe despaire, loe heere my lasting paine: 
 Loe heere my froward fate, which nothing can appease. 
 Loe heere how others toyle rewarded is with gaine. 
 While lucklc-sse, loe, I liue in lossc of laboures due, 
 Compeld by proofe of torment strong, my endlessc greefe to rue: 
 In which, since needcs I must, consume both youth and age, 
 If olde I iiue, and that my care no comfort can assuage: 
 Henceforth I banishe from my brest. 
 All frustrate hope of future rest, 
 And truthlesse trust to times reward. 
 With all respectes of ioyes regard. 
 
 Here I forsweare. 
 
 39. JFherc reason makes rerjuesl, there wisdome ought supplie, 
 IVilh friendly cmswere prest, to graunt or else dcnie. 
 
 I sigh ! why so ? for sorrowc of her smart : 
 
 I morne! wherfore ? for greefe that slice complaines; 
 
 I pitiel what ? her ouer pressed hart : 
 
 I dread ! what harme ? the daunger shce sustaines; 
 
 I grecuci where at? at her oppressing paines: 
 
 T fecle ! what forse ■> the fittes of her disease. 
 
 Whose harme doth me and her alike displease. 
 
 Eiii 
 
32 ^8e paratiise 
 
 I hope, whnt happe ? her happy healthes retyre. 
 
 I wishe, what wealth ? no wealth, nor worldly store : 
 
 But craue, what craft ? by cunnyng to aspyre 
 
 Some skyil, whereto ? to salue her sickly store. 
 
 What then ? why then would I her health restore. 
 
 Whose harme me hurtes, howe so ? so woorkes my wyll 
 
 To wyshe my selfe and her, lyke good and yll. 
 
 What moues the mind, whereto ? to such desyre, 
 Ne force, ne favour, what then f free fancies choyse : 
 Art thou to choose ? my charter to require, 
 Eache Ladyes loue is fred by customes voyce. 
 Yet are there grauntes, the euidence of tbeyr choyse: 
 What then? our freedome is at lardge in choosyng. 
 As womens willes are froward in refusing. 
 
 Wotes she thy wyll ? she knowes what I protest : 
 Daynde she thy sute ? she daungerd not my talke : 
 Gaue she consent ? she graunted my request : 
 What dydst thou craue ? the roote, the fruite, or stalke ? 
 I asked them all : what gaue she. Cheese, or Chalke ? 
 That taste must trye, what taste? I meane the proofe 
 Of freendes, whose wyls withhold her bowe aloofe. 
 
 Meanst thou good fayth ? what els : hopest thou to speede ? 
 
 Why not ? O foole, untaught in carpet trade, 
 
 Knowest not what proofes from such delayes proceede; 
 
 Wylt thou like beadles Cocke be caught in glade ? 
 
 Art thou like Asse, too apt for burden made ? 
 
 Fy, fy, wyl thou for saint adore the shrine. 
 
 And woo her freend, eare she be wholy thine? 
 
 Who drawes this drift ? moued she, or thou this match ? 
 Twas I J oh foole, unware of womens wyles. 
 Long mayst thou wayte, like hungiy houndes at hatche, 
 The crafty Foxe, the seely Goose beguiles : 
 
of tiapntie Dcuige^. S3 
 
 Thy sute is shaped so fyt for long delay, 
 That shee at wyll may chek, from yea to nay. 
 
 But in good soothe, tell me her frendes intent: 
 Best Icarne it first, their purpose I not knowe : 
 Why (hen thy will to woorse and worse is bent : 
 Dost thou delight, the unkindled cole to blowe? 
 Or childelikc louest, in anckred bole to rowe? 
 What meane these termes, who sith thy loue is such. 
 Know of, or on, or thou afect to much. 
 
 No haste but good, why no, the meane is best, 
 Admit shee loue, mislike in liiigring growes: 
 Suppose shee is caught, then Woodcocke on thy crest. 
 Till end approues, what skornefull sedes shee sowes : 
 In loytring loue, such dangers ebbes and flowes; 
 What helpe herein ? why wake in d.ingerous watch. 
 That too, nor fro, may make thee marre the match. 
 
 Is that the way to ende my wery woorkef 
 
 By quick dispatch, to lesson long turmoyle: 
 
 Well, well, though losse in lingering wontes to lurke. 
 
 And 1 a foole, most filte to take the foyle: 
 
 Yet proofe from promise never shall recoylc : 
 
 My woordes wich deedes, and dcedes with woordes shal wend. 
 
 Tyll shee, or hers, gayncsay that I entend. 
 
 Art thou so fond ? not fond, but firmely fast: 
 Why foole, her frecndes wote how thy wyl is bent, 
 Yet thou lyke doult, whose wittc and sense is past, 
 Sest not what frumpcs doo folowe thy entent : 
 Nc knowe, how loue in lewe of skorne is lent : 
 Adewe, for sightes such folly should preuent : 
 Well, well, their skofFes with scornes might be repaid. 
 If my requcstes were fully yead or nayd. 
 
Well, well, let these with wisedoraes paise b 
 And in your chest of cheefest secreates laide. 
 What is, or may be mine. 
 That is, and shall be thine: 
 Till death the twist untwine, 
 That doth our loues combinQ: 
 But if thy heart repine. 
 Thy body should be mine. 
 Shew me thereof some sine. 
 That I may slacke the line. 
 That knitts thy will to mine. 
 Finis. My lucke is losse. 
 
 40. Donee eris Felix mullos nuneralis amicos : 
 Nullus ad amissas ibit amicus opes. 
 
 Even as the Rauen, the Crowe, and greedie Kite 
 Doe swarming flocke, where cavren corpes doth fall: 
 And tiring teare, with beake and talentes might, 
 Both skin and fleshe to gorge their guttes withall, 
 And neuer cease but gather moe to moe. 
 Doe all to pull the carkase too and froe, 
 Till bared bones at last they leaue behinde. 
 And seeke elsewhere some fatter foode to finde. 
 
 Euen so I see, where wealth doth waxe at will. 
 And Golde doth growe to heapes of great encrease : 
 There frendes resort, and profering frendship still. 
 Full thicke they throng, with neuer ceasing prease: 
 And slilie make a shew of true intent. 
 When nought but guile, and inwarde hate is ment: 
 For when mischaunce shall chaungc such wealth to want. 
 They packe them thence, to place of ritcber haunt. 
 Finis. My lucke is losse. 
 
of anpntte tJcuiccS. 41 
 
 -1 1 . irhat ioyc to a contented myndc. 
 
 The faithc that failes, must nedcs be thought untrue. 
 The frende that faincs who holdeth not uniust? 
 Wlio likes that loue that chaungcth still for newc? 
 Who hopes for Iruthe, where trothe is voidc of trust ? 
 No faithe, no frende, no loue, no trothe so sure. 
 But rather failes then stcdfasily endure. 
 
 What head so staled that altereth not intent? 
 What thought so sure that stedfast doeth remaine ? 
 What witte so wise that neuer nedes repent ? 
 What tonge so true but soraetyme wonts to faine ? 
 What foole so firmc that neuer treads awrie? 
 What soner dimde then sight of clerest eye ? 
 
 What harte so fixt but sone enclines to change? 
 What moode so milde that neuer moued debate ? 
 What faithe so strong but lightly likes to range ? 
 What loue so true that neuer learnde to hate? 
 What life so pure that lasts without offence ? 
 What worldly mynde but moues with ill pretence? 
 
 What knot so fast that male not be vntide ? 
 What scale so sure but fraude or forse shall breke? 
 What prop of staye but one lyme shrinks aside ? 
 What ship so stauche that neuer had a leke? 
 What graunt so large that no exception maks? 
 What hoped helpe but frende at nede forsaks? 
 
 What seate so high but lowe to grounde maie fall ? 
 What hap so good that neuer founde raislikc? 
 What state so sure but subicct is to thrall ? 
 What force preuailes where Fortune liste so strike ? 
 Whatweallhe so muchebut tyme maie turne to want r 
 What store so greatc but wasting maketh skant? 
 
What profiles hope in depth of dangers thrall ? 
 "What ruste in tyrae but waxeth worse and worse ? 
 What helpes good hart if Fortune froune withall ? 
 "What blessyng thriues gainst heavenly helples curse? 
 What wiiines desire to get and can not gaine ? 
 What botes to wishe and neuer to obtaine. 
 Finis. My hide is losse. 
 
 42. Ainantium tree amoris redintigrado est. 
 
 In goyng to my naked bedde.as one that would haue slept, 
 L heard a wife syng to her child, that long before had wept : 
 She sighed sore and sang full sore, to bryng the babe to rest. 
 That would not rest but cried still in suckyng at herbrest: 
 She was full wearie of her watche, and greved with her child. 
 She locked it and rated it, vntill on her it smilde: 
 Then did she sale nowe haue 1 founde the prouerbe true to proue. 
 The fallyng out of faithfull frends, is the renuyng of loue. 
 
 Then tooke I paper, penne and ynke, this prouerbe for to write. 
 In regester for to remaine of suche a worthie wight : 
 As she proceded thus, in song vnto her little bratte, 
 Muche matter uttered she of waight, in place whereas she satte: 
 And pruui'd plaine there was no beast, nor creature bearyng life. 
 Could well be knowne to Hue in loue without discorde and strife: 
 Th«i kissed she her little babe, and sware by God aboue. 
 The fallyng out of faithfull frends is the renuying of loue. 
 
 She saied that neither kyng ne prince, ne lorde could Hue aright, 
 Untill their puissance thei did proue, their manhode & their might. 
 When manhode shalbe matched so, that feare can take no place. 
 Then wearie works makes warriours, eche other to embrace ; 
 And leaue their forse that failed the", whiche did consume the rout; 
 That might before have lined their tyme and nnture out; 
 Then did she syng as one that thought no man could her reproue, 
 Tlie fallyng out of faithfull frendes is the renuyng of loue. 
 
of DiTiUinc Dciiiecij. 43 
 
 She saied she sa«e no fish ne foiile, nor be;is! within her haunt, 
 That mctl a straunger in their Icindc, bnl could geue it a taunt: 
 Since flc-shemi^lit not indure, but reste must wrath snccede, 
 And torse the H^ht to fall to plaie, in pasture where thei fecde. 
 So noble nature can well ende, the works she hath begone. 
 And bridle well that will not cease, her tragedy in some : 
 Thus in her songe she oft reherst, as did her well behoue. 
 The fallying out of faithfuU frcnds, is the renuyng of loue. 
 
 I mcrvaile much, pardy, quoth she, for to beholde the route, 
 To see man, woman, boy & bea^t, to losse the worlde about: 
 Some kiiele, some crouch, some beck, some check, & some ca' smolhly 
 And some embrace others in armes, and there ihinkc many a wile: (smile 
 Some stand aloufe at cap and knee, some humble and some stout. 
 Yet are thei neucr frends indeede, until thei once fall out : 
 Thus ended she her song, and saied before she did remoue. 
 The fallyng out of faithfuU frends, is the renuyng of loue. 
 M. Edwardes. 
 
 43. Thinke to dye. 
 
 The life is long, which lothsomely doeth laste. 
 The dolfuU daies drawe slowly to their dale: 
 The present panges, and painefuU plags forepast, 
 Yelds greffe aye grcne, to stahlishc this estate. 
 So thai I feele in this greate stormc and strife, 
 That death is sweete, that shortenelh suche a life. 
 
 And by the stroke of this straunge ouerthrowe. 
 
 All which conflict in ihraldome I was thrust, 
 
 The Lorde be praised, I am well taught to knovee, 
 
 From wheiis man came, and eke whereto he must: 
 
 And by the waic, upon how feble force, 
 
 His terme doeth stande, till death doeth ende his course. 
 
 The pleasant yeres that semes so swetely ronne, 
 
 The mery daies to ende, so fast that flctc : 
 
 The Joyfull wights, of which daies dawes so sone. 
 
44 Cfit ^Ataii^t 
 
 The happie howrs, whichc tno doe misse then mete. 
 Doe all consume as snowe against the sonne. 
 And death maks ende of all that life begonne. 
 
 Since Death shall dure till all the world be wast, 
 "What meanelh man to dread death then so sore? 
 As man might make that life should alwaie last ; 
 Without regard the Lord lialh ledde before 
 The daunce of death, which all must runne on rowe^ 
 The hower wherein onely hym self doeth knowe. 
 
 If man would mynde what burdeins life doeth bryng: 
 
 What greuous crimes to God he doeth commit: 
 
 What plagues, what panges, what perill thereby spryng. 
 
 With no sure hower in all his daies to sit : 
 
 He would sure thinke, and with greate cause I doo. 
 
 The dale of death is happier of the twoo. 
 
 Death is the doore whereby we drawe to ioye. 
 Life is a lake (hat drowneth all in paine; 
 Death is so dole it seaseth all awaie, 
 Life is so leude that all it yelds is vaine : 
 And as by life, in bondage man is brought, 
 Euen so by death is freedome likewise wrought. 
 
 Wherefore with Paule, let all men wishe and praie. 
 To be disolued of this foule fleshly masse : 
 Or at the least be armed against the dale, 
 That ihei be founde good souldiers, prest to passe 
 From life to death, from death to life againe. 
 And suche a life as euer shall remaine. 
 Finis. D. S. 
 
 44. Beyng asked the occasion of his ichite 
 head, he aunsweretk thus. 
 
 Where sethyng sighes, and sower sobbs. 
 Hath slaine the slipps that nature sett: 
 
45 of tintuuie t)cuitc6\ 
 
 And skaldyng showers with slonie throbbs. 
 The kindly sappe from them hath fctt : 
 What wonder then though you doe see 
 Upon my head white heeres to bee. 
 
 Where thought haih thrild and throne his spea 
 To hurt die hart that hatmtii hym not, 
 And gronyng grief hath groundc fortlie tcares, 
 Myne eyne to stayne my tace to spot: 
 What wonder then though you doe see, 
 Upon my head white heeres to bee. 
 
 Where pinchyng paine hym selfe hath plaste. 
 There peace with pleasures were possest, 
 And walks of wealth are fallen to waste. 
 And pouertie in them is prest. 
 What wonder then, though you doc see 
 Upon my head white heeres to bee. 
 
 Where wretched woe doeth weaue her webbe, 
 There care the clewe can catche and caste : 
 And floudds of ioye are fallen to ebbe 
 So loe, that life male not long laste. 
 What wonder then, though you doc sec. 
 Upon my head white heeres to be. 
 
 These heeres of age are messengers, 
 Whiche bidd me fast, repent and praie: 
 Tliei be of death the harbingers, 
 That docth prepare and dressc the waie. 
 Wherefore I ioye that you mai see. 
 Upon my head such heeres to bee. 
 
 Thei be the line that lead the length. 
 How farre my race was for to ronnc : 
 Thci saic my yongth is fledde with strength, 
 And how old age is well begonne. 
 
46 C6e ^avatJi^c 
 
 The wliiche I feele, and you mue see. 
 Upon ray head such lines to bee. 
 
 Thei be the stryngs of sober sounde. 
 Whose Musicke is hermonicall : 
 Their tunes declare, a lymefrom grounde 
 I came, and how thereto I shall. 
 Wherefore I ioye that you maie see 
 Upon my heed suche stryngs to bee. 
 
 God graunt to those that white heeres have. 
 No worse them take, then I haue ment : 
 That after thei be laied in graue. 
 Their soules maie ioye their Hues well spent, 
 God graunt likewise that you maie see 
 Upon my head suche heires to bee. 
 Finis. L. V. 
 
 1 would to God I were Acleon that Diana did disguise, 
 To walke the Forest vp and doune, whereas my ladie lies: 
 An Harte of heere and hewe, I wishe that I were so. 
 So that my Ladie knew me onely, and no mo. 
 The shalyng Nutts and Maste, that falleth from the tree. 
 Should well suffice for my repast, might I my ladie see: 
 It should not greue me there in frost, to lye vpon the grounde: 
 Delite should easly quite the coste, what euill so that I founde. 
 Soraetyme that I might saie, when I saw her alone, 
 Beholde, see yonder slaue aldaie, that walketh the woodds alone. 
 Finis. M. B. 
 
 Why should I lenger long to Hue, 
 
 In this desease of fantasie. 
 
 Sins fortune doeth not cease to glue. 
 
 Things to ray mynde most contrarie. 
 
 And at ray ioyes doeth lowre and froune. 
 
 Till she hath tourned them upsidoune. 
 
 A ffrendc 
 
of tittpntie ticuijJe?, 47 
 
 A ffrende I had to me most dcre. 
 And of long tyme faitlifull and iuste: 
 There was no one my hartc so nere. 
 Nor one in whom 1 had more truste. 
 Whom now of late without cause why. 
 Fortune hath made my enemie. 
 
 The grase me thinkes should growe in skie: 
 The starres, unto the yearth cleaue faste: 
 Tlie water streame should passe awrie. 
 The winds should leve their stre'gt of blast. 
 The Sonne and Moone by one assent. 
 Should bothe forsake the firmament. 
 
 The fishe in ayer should flie with finne. 
 The foules in floud should bryng forth fry. 
 All thyngs me thinks should crstbeginne 
 To take their course unnaturally: 
 Afore my frende should alter so. 
 Without a cause to bee my foe. 
 
 But suche is Fortunes hate I sale, 
 Suche is her will on me to wreake: 
 Suche spite she hath at nic alwaie. 
 And ceasscth not my hartc to brcake. 
 With suche dispite of crueltie. 
 Wherefore then longer Hue should I. 
 Finis. E. S. 
 
 47. Prudens. The historic of Damacles, y Dionist. 
 
 Whoso is set in princly trone, and craueth rule to beare. 
 
 Is still beset on euery side, with perill and with feare: 
 
 High trres by stormie winds are shakt & rent vp fro" the grou'd 
 
 And flashy flnks of lightnings flames on turrets do robou'd 
 
 When little shrubs in sauelie lurke in coucrt all alowe. 
 
48 CSc i3avat3i0"t 
 
 And freshly florise in their kynde, what ever winde doe blowe 
 The crnell king ot Sciii/y, who fearing Barbara hand--, 
 Was wont to singe his benrd hym self, with cole and fire brands: 
 Hith taught us this, the pronfe whereof, full plainly we thaye see. 
 Was never thyng more liuely touched, to shewe it so to bee. 
 This kyng did seme to Damocles, to be the happiest wight, 
 Because he thought none like to hyni in power or in might. 
 Who did alone so farre cxcell the rest in his degree. 
 As doeih the Sunne in brightnes cleare, the darkest starre we see. 
 Wilt thou (then said this cruell kyng) proue this my present state. 
 Possess thou shah this seate of myne, and so be fortunate. 
 Full gladly then this Damaclcs this proterd honour tooke. 
 And shootyng at a princely lite, his quiet rest forsooke. 
 In honours seaie then was he plast, accordyng to his wy!l. 
 Forthwith a banquet was preparde, that he might feast his fill. 
 Nothyng did want wherein twas thought, that he would take delite. 
 To feede his eye, to fill his mouthe, or please the appetite. 
 Such store of plaie, I think in Grece, there scarsly was so much, 
 J^is scrvitours did Angels seme, their passyng shape was such : 
 Nodaintie dishe but there it was, and thereof was suclie store. 
 That throughout Grece so princly chere was neuer seen before. 
 Thus while in po'pe and pleasures seate, this Damaclcs was plast. 
 And did beginne w ilh gladsome liarte, eche daintie dishe to taste. 
 At length by chaunce cast up his eyes, and gan the house to vewe. 
 And sawe a sight that hym enforst, his princly state to rewe: 
 A sword forsoth with dounward point, that had no stronger ihred 
 Then one horse heere that peised it, direct upon his head: 
 \\ herewith he was so sore amasde, and shooke in euery parte. 
 As though the sworde that hong aboue, had stroke hym to the hart 
 Thtn all their pleasures toke their leaue, & sorowe came in place. 
 His heauie harte the teares declared, that trickled doune his face. 
 And then forthwith with sobbing voice, besought y= king of grace. 
 That he would licens hjm with speede, to depart out of that place. 
 And saied that he full enough, had tried now with feare. 
 What tis to be a happie man, and princly rule to beare. 
 This deede of thyne, oh Dio/iise, deserues immortal fame, 
 This deede shall alwaies Hue with praise, though thou didst liue w' shame. 
 
 Whereby 
 
of Diiimtic Dcmtfis. 49 
 
 Whereby bothe kyngcs be put in minde, their dangers to be great. 
 And subiects be forbid to clinic high stepps of honours sat. 
 Finis. 
 
 48. ForliluUc. A ijong man of /Egipt, and Valerian. 
 
 Echo one deserues great praise to haue, but yet not like I think, 
 
 Bothe he that can sustain the yoke of paines & doelli not shrink, 
 
 And he whom Cupids couert crafto can notliing mouc at all. 
 
 Into the harde and tangled knotts of Feyius snares lo fall. 
 
 Bestnrre you then, who so delights, in vermes race to ronnc. 
 
 The riiyng boye, with bowe ibcnt, by strength to ouercomc. 
 
 As one did once when he was yong, and in his tender dales, 
 
 Whose stout and noble deede of his, hath got immortall praise: 
 
 The wicked Romaines did pursue the sely Christians than. 
 
 What tyme fulcrian Emperour was, a wicked crucll man. 
 
 Who spared not with bloudy draughts to que'che his owne desire, 
 
 Dispatchyng all that stucke to Christ, with hotie consumyng fire. 
 
 At length a man of tender yeres was brought before his sight, 
 
 Suche one as Nature semed to make a witnesse of her might. 
 
 For ruery parte so well was set that nothyng was depraued. 
 
 So that ihc cmell kyng hymself would gladly haue hym saued, 
 
 So loth he was to see a woorke, so rare of Xaturs power. 
 
 So finely built, so sodainly destroied within an hower. 
 
 Then meanes he sought toouercome, or Wynne hym at the lest. 
 
 To slip from Christe, whom he before had earnestly profcst. 
 
 A beddc prcparde so finely deckl, such diuers pleasaunt smels, 
 
 That well it might appeare a place, where pleasure onely dwells. 
 
 By him he laicd a naked wenche, a Feniis darlyng sure. 
 
 With sugred speache, & lonely toyes, that might his minde allure. 
 
 Such wanton lewres as these he thought, might easly him entise. 
 
 Which things he knewe w' lustic youth had alwaies been in prise. 
 
 Suche waies I ihinkc the Gods themsclues could have inuentcd none, 
 
 For flatteryng Fenus ouercoms the senses euerych one, 
 
 And he hymself was euen at point, to Fenus to consent, 
 
 Had not his stout and manly myndc resisted his cnlent. 
 
 When he perceiued his flcshe to yeldc, to pleasures wanton toycs. 
 
50 ^!3c parntiigfe 
 
 And was by sleight almoste prouoked to last of Venus ioyes, 
 More cruell to liymself then those, tliat glad would hym uiidoo. 
 With bloudie tooth his te'der tong bote quite and cleane in twoo. 
 Thus was the paine so passyng greate, of this his bloudie bitte. 
 That all the fire and cariiall lust was quenched euery whitte. 
 Doe ill and all thy pleasures then full sone will pa^se awaie. 
 But yet the shame of those thy deedes will neuer more decaie. 
 Do well & tliough thy paines be great, yet sone eche one wil cease, 
 But yet, the praise of those thy deedes will euerniore increase. 
 Finis. 
 
 49. Justice. Zaleuch and his sonne. 
 
 Let rulers make most perfect lawes, to rule both great smal. 
 If tbei them selues obeye them not, it boteth not at all. 
 As lawes be nought but rulers dome, co~teining egall might. 
 So rulers should be speakyng lawes to rule by line of right. 
 Zaleuch the Prince of LocWwe once, appointed by decree, 
 Eche Ifcherer should be punished with losse of either eye. 
 His Sonne by rhaunce oflended first, which when his father sawe, 
 Lorde God how earnest then was he, to execute the lawe. 
 Then ran the people all by flocks to hym with wepyng eyes. 
 Not one eniung the rout there was, but pardon, pardon cries. 
 By whose outcries and earnest sute, bis sonne in hope did stande. 
 That he thereby should then obtaine some pardon at his hande. 
 But all in vaine, for he is fouude, to be the man he was. 
 And maketh hast so niuche the more, to haue the lawe to passe. 
 The people yet renued their sute, in hope of some relief. 
 Whose faces, all besprent with teares, did testifi^, their grief. 
 And cried all for pities sake, yelde now to our request. 
 If all you will not cleane remit, yet ease the paine at lest. 
 Then somewhat was the father moued, with all the peoples voice. 
 And euery man did give a shoote, to shewe thei did reioyce. 
 Well then quoth he it shal be thus, the lawe shal be fullilde. 
 And yet my sonne shall fauour have, accordyng as you wilde. 
 One eye of his shal be pulde out, thus hath his leudnesse got. 
 And likewise so shall one of myne, though I deserue it not. 
 
 Thi,, 
 
ot Onimtic tjcui^co. 
 
 This worde no soner was pronoifcde, but strait y« dcde was doeii, 
 Twoo eyes, no mo, were left, betwciie llie father and the soniic. 
 Sale now who can, and on my faithe Apollo he slial be, 
 Was he more gentle father now? or iuster ludge, trowc ye ? 
 This man would not his lawes be like the webbs y' spielers wcue, 
 Wherein ihei lurke when thei entende the simple to deceiue. 
 Wherewith small flies full sone be caught, & tangled ere thci wist, 
 When greate ones Hie and scape awaie, & breake them as thei list. 
 F'niis. 
 
 .50. Tcmperauna:. Spurina and the Romaine Ladies. 
 
 If nature beare thee so great louc. as she in thee have bcautie plast. 
 Full harde it is as we doe prone, to kepe the body cleane &c chast : 
 
 Twixt comelinesse and chaslitle, 
 
 A deadly strife is thought to be. 
 For beautie whiche some men suppose to be, as twcre a golden ill, 
 Prouoketh strief and many foes, that seke on her to worke her wil : 
 
 Assaults to tounes if many make, 
 
 No toune so strong but male be take. 
 And this Spurina witnesse can, who did for beautie beare the bell. 
 So cleane a wight so comly made, no dame in Rome but loued wel: 
 
 Nut one could cole her hot desire. 
 
 So burnyng was the flame ot lire. 
 Likeaswhen baile caste in y . floud forthwith doth cause thefishescomc. 
 That pleasantly before did plaie, now presently to death to runne: 
 
 For when thei see the baite to fall. 
 
 Straight waie thei swallowe hooke and all. 
 So when Spurina thci did see, to hym thei flocked out of hande. 
 The happest dame was thought to be, that in his fauour moste did stande: 
 
 Not knowyng under sweetc deceits. 
 
 How Fenus bids her poysoned baits. 
 But wbe" he sawe them thus to rage, whom loue had linked in his chain. 
 This means he sought for to aswage these ladies of their greuous pain : 
 
 His shape intcndyng to disgrace, 
 
 With many wounds he scotch his face. 
 
 By 
 Gii 
 
52 'SLge ^avaaisic 
 
 By whlche his decde it came to passe y'. he, y'. pemed an angel bright, 
 Euen now so cleane disfigured was, y' he became a lothsom wight: 
 
 And rather had be foule and chast. 
 
 Then taire and filthie ioyes to last. 
 What pen ca~ write, or to^g cxpresse y"". worthy praises of this deede. 
 My think that God can do no lesse, then graunt him heaven for his meede, 
 
 Who for to saue hymself vpright, 
 
 Hymself hath first destroyed quite. 
 Finis, q. F. M, 
 
 y4 htnche nf herhes and Jlo 
 
 If y'. eche fiower the godds haue framed are shapt by sacred skill, 
 
 Were as I would (no wrong to wishe) & myne to weare at will: 
 
 Or els eche tree with lustie top, would lend me leaue to loue. 
 
 With spriggs displaied to spread my sute a wailing hart to proue : 
 
 Upon my helme sone should you see, my hedde aduaunced hie. 
 
 Some slipp for solace there to sett and weare the same would I. 
 
 Yet would I not for greate delight, the Daisies strange desire. 
 
 The Lillie would not like my lust, nor Rose would 1 require : 
 
 The Marigould might growe for me, Rosemary well might reste^ 
 
 The Fenell to that is more fit, for some unfrendly gest: 
 
 Nor Cowslopps would [ craue at all, sometymes thei seme to coy: 
 
 Some ioly youth the Gelliflower estemeth for his ioye: 
 
 The Lavender sometymes aloft alures the lookers eyes. 
 
 The Paunsie shall not haue the praise, where I may geue the prise: 
 
 And thus no flower my fansie feeds, as liketh so my luste. 
 
 As that I male subiect my self, to toyes of tickle truste: 
 
 For flowers though thei be faire and fresh, of sent excelling swete. 
 
 Yet grow thei on the ground belowe, we tred them with our fete : 
 
 And shall I then goe stoupe to suche, or els go seke to those? 
 
 Shall flowers enforse me once to faune for feare of fre~ds or foes? 
 
 Yet rather yelde I to the right, as reason hath assignde, 
 
 Myne authour saied there was no salve in flowers for me to finde : 
 
 And yet perhapps some tree there is to shroud me fro" the shower. 
 
 That with her armes maie salue y«. soule, y'. veldeth to her power. 
 
 Eche 
 
of a.iiMinc tjriiisctf. 53 
 
 Where I male finds some plc.iinnt shnde, to saluc me fro' llie soniie: 
 Eche tliyng we see that reason hath unto the trees doe runne, 
 Bothe men & beasts, suche foulcs as fly, the treasures arc tlie trees. 
 And for my part when braunches (all, I wishe no other fees. 
 But whe" that stormes beset me round, suchc succor God me sendc. 
 That I male finde a frendly tree, that will mc well dcfende. 
 No tree there is whiclie yelds no good, to some that doc it secke. 
 And as thei areofdiuers kynds their uses are unlike: 
 The Eue tree serues the Bowiers turne, the Ash the Coupers art. 
 The puisant Oke doeth make tiie post, the Pine some other part : 
 The Elme doeth h'lpe to hide the birds in wearie winters night. 
 The Briers I gesse are nothyng worth, thei seruc but for de>pight: 
 The Willowc wisht I farrc fro' hens, good will deserue no wrong, 
 1 he Sallowe well male serue their states that syng so sad a song. 
 The Boxe and Beche eche for hymself aboue the reste doeth boste. 
 The Eglantine for pleasure oft is pricked upon the postc. 
 The Hauthorne so is had in prise, the Bales doe bf are the bell, 
 And that these Bales did bryng no blisse, I like it not so well, 
 As erst I doe that semely tree by wliiche those Bales I founde. 
 And where withall unwittyngly I tooke so greate a woundc. 
 As if the tree by whiche I lent doeth lende me no relief. 
 There is no helps but doune I fall, so greate is growne my grief: 
 And therefore at the last I craue this fauour for to tinde. 
 When euery tree that here is told beginiis to growe unkinde. 
 The B. for bcautie whom I boste and shall abouc the rest. 
 That 13. maie take me to her trust, for B. doeth please me best: 
 It liks me well to walke the wale, where B. doeth kepe her bower. 
 And when it raines, to B. I ronne to saue me from the shower. 
 This brau'che of B. whiche here I meane to kepe, I chiefly craue : 
 At becke vnto this B. I bowe to sar\c that beautic braue. 
 What shall I saie, the tyme doeth passe, the talc to tedious is. 
 Though loth to leaue yet leauc I must and saie no more but this: 
 I wishc this B I might embrace when as the same I see, 
 A league for life then 1 require betwene this B and me. 
 And though unworthy yet good will doeth worke the waie herein. 
 And B hath brought the same about which beautie did begin. 
 
 Finis. 
 
 Now 
 
 Giii 
 
54 C%t pavadigc 
 
 .52. Now mnrtall man leholde and see, This 
 u'orlde is but a vanitie. 
 
 Who shall profoundly way or scan the assured stale of man, 
 
 Shall well perceiue by reason than. 
 That where is no stabilitie, reraaiueth nought but vanitie. 
 
 For what estate is there think ye throughly content w'. his degre. 
 
 Whereby we maie right clerely see. 
 That in this vale of miserie, remaineth nought but vanitie. 
 
 The great men wishe y<^. meane estate, meane tnen again their state doe 
 Old men ihinke children fortunate: (hate, 
 
 A. boye a man would fainest be, thus wandreth man in vanitie. 
 
 The cou trey man doth daily swell w'. great desire in court to dwel. 
 
 The Courtier thinks hym nolhyng well. 
 Till he from court in countrey be, he wandreth so in vanitie. 
 
 The sea docth tosse ye. marcha'ts brains to wish a farm & leue those 
 The Farmer gapeth at marchantes gaines : (pains. 
 
 Thus no man can contented be, he wandreth so in vanitie. 
 
 If thou haue lands or goods great store, co~sider thou thy charge ye, more. 
 
 Since thou must make account therefore: 
 Thei are not thine but lent to thee, and yet thei are but vanitie. 
 
 If thou be strong or faire of face, sicknes or age doth both disgrace. 
 
 Then be not proude in any case: 
 For how can there more folly be, then for to best of vanitie ? 
 
 Now finally be not infect with worldly cares, but haue respect 
 
 How God rewardeth his true electe, 
 Witli glorious felicitie, free from all worldly vanitie. 
 Finis. M. Thorn. 
 
 Where 
 
of Ditnntic Dctiiocd. 55 
 
 53. In commendation of Mustek. 
 W'liere grip) ng grief the l);\rt would wound & doltull dnmps thiTopprcsse, 
 There Musick with hersiluer scud is wont with spede to giue n-dresse: 
 Of troubled minde for eucry sore swete Musick hath a salue therfovc. 
 
 In ioye it maks our mirth abound, in grief it chers our heauy sprigiits, 
 Thecarefull head release hath found, byMusicks pleasant swete delights : 
 Our sences, what should I sale more, are subiect vnto Musicks lore. 
 
 The Godds by Musick hath their praie, the foule therein doeth ioyc, 
 For as the Romaiiie Poets sale, in seas, whom pirats would desiroye, 
 A Dolphin saued from death most sharpe Arion plaiyng on his harpe. 
 
 A heauenly gift that turnes the minde, like as the sterne doth rule the sliip, 
 
 Musick, whom the Gods assignde to comfort man, whom cares would nip, 
 
 Sith thou both ma~ & beast doest move, what wise man then wil thee re- 
 
 Finis. M. Edwards. (prove? 
 
 When sage Vlisses sailed by 
 
 The perillous seas, where Circns syng, 
 
 Hymself vnto tlie mast did tye, 
 
 Lest their alluryng tunes might bryng 
 
 His myndc on maze, and make hym staic, 
 
 And he with his become their praie. 
 
 Vlisses, O thou valiant wight, 
 It semed dame Circes Joued thee well, 
 What lyme she told to thee aright 
 The seas wherein the Sirens dwell : 
 By meane where, against thy sailc. 
 Their subtill songes could not preuailc. 
 
 Were thou amongs us here againe. 
 And heaid our Sirens melodic, 
 Not Circes skill nor yet thy braine. 
 Could kepe thee from their tpcherie : 
 Such Sirens haue we now adaics. 
 That tempt us by a thousande waies. 
 
 Thei 
 
.56 €\)t paralji^c 
 
 Thei S3'ng, thei daunce, thei sporf, the! plaie, 
 Thei humbly fall upon their knees : 
 Thei sigh, thei sobb, thei prate, thei praie. 
 With such dissemblyng shifts as these : 
 Thei calculate, thei chaunt, thei charme. 
 To conquere us that meane no harme. 
 
 Good ladies all letts ioyne in one, 
 And banishe cleane this Siren kinder 
 What nede we yelde to heare their mone. 
 Since their deceipt we daiely finde. 
 Let not your harts to them apply, 
 Defie them all, for so will I. 
 
 And if where Circes now doeth dwell. 
 You wisht you witt aduise to learne : 
 Loe I am she that best can tell 
 Their Sirens songes and them discerne; 
 For why experience yeldeth skill. 
 To me that scapt that Sirens ill. 
 Finis. M. Bew. 
 
 55. Findi/ng no ioye, lie desireth death. 
 
 The Cony in his caue the Feret doeth anoye, 
 
 And flcyng thence his life to saue himself he doeth destroye 
 
 His Berrie rounde about besett with hunters snares, _ 
 
 So that when he to scape starts out, is caught therein unwares : 
 
 Like choisepoore man haue I to bide and rest in loue. 
 
 Or els from thence to start and still as bad a death to proue. 
 
 I see in loue to rest vnkindnesse doeth pursue. 
 To rente the harte out of his breast whiche is a louer true : 
 And if from loue 1 starte, as one that loue forsaks. 
 Then pensiue thoughts my hart doeth perse, & so my life it taks: 
 Thus then to fly or bide, harde is the choise to chuse. 
 Since death hath ca~pde, & trea~hed eche side, k saith life now refuse. 
 
 Content, 
 
of D.iiuitic iicui^cof. 57 
 
 Content I am therefore my life therein to spendc, 
 And Jcaih I take a salue for sore my wearie daies to cndc : 
 And thus I you request, that faithfull louc professc, 
 When carca? cased is in chest, and bodic laied on hears. 
 Your briniahe tcares to sane, suche as my corse shall inoue. 
 And tlierewith write upon my gra\c, Ijciiold the force of louc. 
 ly. H. 
 
 Hope well and haue well. 
 
 In hope tlic Shipman hoiseth saile, in hope of passage good. 
 In hope of health the sickly roan doeth suffer losse of bloud : 
 In hope the prisoner linckt in chaines hopes libertie to finde. 
 Thus hopebreds hcltli, ic heltii bredseasc to cuery troubled mynd. 
 
 In hope desire getts victorie, in hope greate comfort spryngs^ 
 In hope the louer lines in ioyes, he feares no dreadfull styngs: 
 In hope we liue, and male abide suche stormes as are assignde. 
 Thus hope breds helth, & helth breds ease to euery troubled mind. 
 
 In hope we easely suffer harme, in hope of future tyme. 
 In hope of fruite the pain semes swete, that to the tree doeth clime 
 In hope of loue suche glory growes, as now by profc I finde. 
 That hope breds helth, & helth breds ease to euery troubled niinde. 
 IV. H. 
 
 He repenlcth hii folly. 
 
 Whe" first mine eyes did vew 8c marke thy beutie faire for to behold, 
 And whe" myne cares gan first to harkc the pleasant words y' thon me 
 I would as the~ I had been free fro" eares to heare & eyes to se. (told: 
 
 And when my hands did handle oft, that might thee kepe in mcmorie. 
 And when my feetc had gone so soltc to finde and haue thy companie, 
 I would cche hande a footc had been, and eke cche foote ahandsosei ii: 
 
 And 
 Hi 
 
58 'SCfie paratiisc 
 
 And w hen in minde 1 did consent to followe thus my fansies will. 
 And when my harte did first relent to tast suche baite myself to spill, 
 1 would my harte had been as thine, or els thy harte as soft as myne. 
 
 The~ should not I suche cause haue fou~d to wish this mo~strous sight to se, 
 Ne thou, alas! that madest the wounde, should not deny me remedy : 
 Then should one will in bothe remain, to grau t one hart whiche now is. 
 IV. H. (twaine. 
 
 He requesteth some frendly comfort 
 affirmyvg Ids constancie. 
 
 The mountaines hie whose loftie topps doeth mete the hautie sky. 
 The craggie rocke, that to the sea free passage doeth deny : 
 The aged Oke that doeth resist the force of blustryng blast. 
 The pleasaunt herbe that, euery where, a fragrant smell doeth cast: 
 The Lyons forse whose courage stout declares a princlike might. 
 The Eagle that for worthinesse is borne of kyngs in fight: 
 The Serpent eke whose poisoned waies doeth belche out venim vile. 
 The lolhsome Tode that shunneth light, and llueth in exile: 
 These, these, 1 sale and thousands more by trackt of tyme decaie. 
 And like to tyme doe quite consume and vade from forme to claie: 
 But my true harte and seruice vowed, shall laste tyme out of minde. 
 And still remaine as thine by dome, as Cupid hath assignde : 
 My faithe loe here I vowe to thee, my trothe thou knowest right well. 
 My goods my trends, my life is thine, what nede I more to tell? 
 J am not myne but thine 1 vowe, thy bests 1 will obeye. 
 And seme thee as a servaunt ought in pleasyng, if I male: 
 And sith 1 haue no fliyng wings to see thee as 1 wishe, 
 Ne finnc-s to cut the siluer streames as doeth the glidyng fishe. 
 Wherefore leaue now forgetfulnesse and sende againe to me. 
 And slraine thy azurcd vahies to write, that I male grcetyng see: 
 And thus farewell more deare to me then chifest frende I haue. 
 Whose loue in harte I minde to shrine till death his fee doe craue. 
 AI. Edwards. 
 
 Shall 
 
of tiauntic ijcui0cg!, 59 
 
 He cow/ila'uiclh his misli/i/ifi. 
 
 Shall rigor raigne where youth hatli ron, shall fansic now forsake. 
 Shall torlune lo.->e that fauour woiine, shall not your anger slake: 
 Shall hateful! harte be had in you that frcndly ditl pretendc, 
 Shall slipper thoughts and faithe untrue tJiat harte of yours defende ? 
 
 Shall nature shewe your beautie faire, that gentle sKmes to be. 
 Shall frowardnesse, your fancies aycr, be of more force then she : 
 Shall now disdaine the dragg of death, direct and leade the waie. 
 Shall all the imps upon the yearth reioyce at my decaie ? 
 
 Shall this the seruice of my youth haue suche reward at last. 
 Shall I rcceiue rigor for ruth, and be from fauour cast; 
 Shall I therefore berent my harte, with wights that wishe to dye. 
 Or shall I bathe myself with teares to feede your fickle eye? 
 
 No, no, I shall in paine lye still with Turtle doue moste true. 
 And vowc myself to witt and will, their counsels to ensue: 
 Good Ladies all that loucrs be, your helpe hereto purtende, 
 Giue place to witt, let reason seme your enemie to defende. 
 
 Lest thai you thinke as I haue thought, yourself to striue in vaine. 
 And so to be iu thraldome brought, with me to sutfcr paine. 
 Finis. M. H. 
 
 No foe to a fiatlercr. 
 
 I would it were not as I thinke, I would it were not so, 
 
 I ana not blinde although I winke, I feele what winds doe blowe: 
 
 I knowe where craft, with smilyngchrare, creps iuio bloudy brest, 
 
 I heare how fained speache speaks faire where hatred is possesf 
 
 I se the Serpent lye and lurck, vnder the grene alowe, 
 
 I see him watche a tyme to worke, his poyson to bestowe. 
 
 In frendly looks such fraude is founde as faithe for feare is fleade, 
 And frendship hath receiued such wounde as he is almost dcade, 
 AndhatefuU harte with malice greate so boyles incankerd raiude. 
 
 That 
 
 Hii 
 
00 'S^bc paratii^e 
 
 That flatteries flearyng in my face had almoste made me blinde: 
 But now I see all is not golde, that glittereth in the eye. 
 Nor yet such frends as thei professe as now by profe I finde. 
 
 Though secret spight by craft hath made a coate of Panters skin. 
 And thinks to finde me in the shade by sleight to wrapp me in, 
 Yet God be praised my eye is cleare, and can beholde the Sonne! 
 When falshood dares not once appeare to ende that he begonne! 
 Thus tyme shall trie the thyng amisse which God sone shortly sende. 
 And turne the harte that fained is to be a faithfull frende. 
 Fini';. 
 
 The spider with greate skill doeth trauell daie by daie. 
 His limmes no tyme lye still, to set his house in staie: 
 And whin he hath it wrought thinkyng therein to raigne, 
 A blast of winde unthought doeth driue itdowne againe. 
 
 The profe whereof is true to make his worke indiire. 
 He paines hymselfa newe, in hope to dwell more sure: 
 Or in some secret place, a corner of the wall. 
 He trauaileth a space to builde and rest with all. 
 
 His pleasure swete to staie when he to rest is bent. 
 An ugly shamble Flie approcheth to his tent. 
 And there entends by forse his labours greate to win. 
 Or els to yelde his corse, by tatall death therein. 
 
 Thus is the Spider's nest from tyme to tyme throwne downc. 
 And he to labour prest, with endles pains unknowne: 
 So suche as loners be like trauell doe attaine, 
 Those endles works ye see aer alwaies full of paine. 
 jr. Hunis. 
 
 'I'he subtill slily sleights, that worldly men doe worke, 
 
 I'he fre~dly showes vnder whose shade most craft doth ofte" lurke, 
 
 Enforceth 
 
of Dnimttc t)ruisc^. 0"i 
 
 Enforcelh me, alas, with yernfuU voice to saie. 
 
 Wo worthe the wily heads that si;eks the simple mans dccaie. 
 
 The birde that dreds no guile is soncst caught in snare, 
 Eche gentle harte deuoide of craft is soncst brought to care : 
 Good nature sonest trapt, which gives me cause to saie. 
 Wo worthe the wily heads that seeks the simple mans dccaie. 
 
 I see the serpent vile, that lurks under the grene. 
 
 How subtelly he shrouds hymself, that he maie not be sene: 
 
 And yet his fosters bane his kryng looks bewraie. 
 
 Wo worthe the wily heads that seeks the simple mans dccaie. 
 
 Wo worthe the finnyng looks one fauour that doe waite. 
 Wo worthe the faintd frendly harte that harbours depe deceit : 
 Wo worthe the vipers broodc: oh, thrise wo worthe I saie, 
 All worldly wily heads that seeks the simple mans decaie. 
 Finis. M. Edwards. 
 
 With painted speache I list not proue my cunnyng for to trie. 
 Nor yet will vse to fill my penne with gilefuU tlatterie: 
 With pen in hand, and harte in breast, shall faithful! promise make, 
 To loue you best and serue you moste for your great vertues sake. 
 
 And since dame Nature hath you dcckt with gifts aboue the rest. 
 Let not disdaine a harbour finde within your noble brcst: 
 For loue hath ledd his lawe alike, to men of eche degree. 
 So tliat the begger with the prince sliall loue as well as he. 
 
 I am no prince I must confesse, nor yet of princes line, 
 Nor yet a brutishe begger borne that feeds among the swine: 
 The fruite shall trie the tree at last, the blossomes good or no, 
 Then doe not iudge of me the worse till you hauc tried me so. 
 
 As I deserueso then reward, I make you iudge of all. 
 If I be false in worde or deede let lightnyng thunder l.ill : 
 
 And 
 
5s '€i)t pavauific 
 
 And furies fell with frnnticke iilts berene and stopp my breathe. 
 For an.€xample to the rest if I shall breake my faithe. 
 Finis. M. B. 
 
 Trie and then trust. 
 
 The sainct I serve, and have besought full oft. 
 Upon my knees to stand my Goddes good: 
 With hope did holde my head sometyme aloft. 
 And fed my faunyng frende with daintie foode. 
 But now I see, that words are nought but winde. 
 The sweter meate the sowrer sauce I finde. 
 
 Thus while I helde the Elc by the taile 
 I had some hope yet neuer wanted feare: 
 Of double dread that man can neuer faile. 
 That will presume to take the Wolfe by the earc, 
 I snatche forsothe much like to Esops dogg, 
 I sought for fishe and alwaies caught a frogg. 
 
 Thus did I long bite on the foniyng bitt, 
 Whiche found me plaie enough vnto my paine: 
 Ihus while I loued I neuer wanted fitt. 
 But liued by losse and sought no other gaine. 
 But why should I mislike with Fortunes fetters. 
 Since that the like have hapt unto my betters. 
 Richard Hill. 
 
 Complainyng to his frende, he replieth wittely. 
 
 A. The fire shall freese, the frost shall frie, the frozen mountains hie, 
 
 B. What stra~gc thinges shall dame nature force to turne her course awiie. 
 
 A. My Ladie hath me left and taker) a newe man. 
 
 B. This is not straunge, it happes oft tymes the truthe to scan. 
 A. The more is my paine. B. her loue then refraine. 
 
 A. Who thought she would flitt? B. ech^^ one that hath witt. 
 A. Is not this straunge ? B, light loue will chaunge. 
 
 By 
 
of D.^jnutc tjcuisjc0, 63 
 
 A. By skilful! meanes I her reclaime to slope unto my luer. 
 
 B. Suche hazard haukes will sore awaic of them who can be suer ? 
 
 A. With siluer bells and booth my ioye was her to decke. 
 
 B. She was full gorgd, she woulde the soiif-r giuc the chcckc. 
 A. The more is my paine. B. hcrloue then refraine. 
 
 A. Who thought she would flitt? B. eche one that hath witt. 
 A. Is not this straunge ? B. light loue will chaunge. 
 
 A. Her chirping lippes would chirp to me swete wordes of her desire. 
 
 B. Suche chirping birdes who euer sawe to preach still on one brire? 
 
 A. She saied she loued me bcste and would doe till she die; 
 
 B. She saied in wordes, she thought it not as tymedoih trie. 
 A. The more is my painc. B. her loue then r.;fraine. 
 
 A. Who thought she would flitt? B. eche one that hath witt. 
 A. Is not this straunge? B. light loue will chaunge. 
 
 A. Can no man winne a woman so to make her loue endure? 
 
 B. To make the Fox his wiles to leauc what man will put in urc ? 
 
 A. Why then there is no choice, but all women will chaunge. 
 
 B. As men doe use so women do loue to raunge. 
 
 A. The more is my paine. B. her loue then refraine. 
 
 A. Who thought she would flitt? B. eche one that hath witt. 
 
 A. Is not this straunge? B. light loue will chaunge. 
 
 A. Sithe slipper gaine falles to my lot, farwell that glidyng praie. 
 
 B. Sithe that the dice doeth runne awrie, betimes leaue of thy plaie. 
 A. I will no more lament the thyng I male not haue. 
 
 R. Then by exchaiinge the losse to come, all shalt thou sauc. 
 A. Loue will 1 refraine. B. thereby thou shalt gaine. 
 A. \\ ith losse 1 will leaue. B. she will thee deceiue. 
 A. That is not straunge. B. then let her raunge. 
 M. Edwards. 
 
 No paines comparahle to his attempt. 
 
 What watche, what wo, what want, what wracke. 
 Is due to those that toyle the seas? 
 
64- 'Z'Sjt pavatiisic 
 
 Life ledd with losse of paines no lacke, 
 In stormes to vvinne muche restlesse ease : 
 A bedlesse borde, in seas unrest, 
 Maie happ to hym that chaunseth best. 
 
 How sundrie sounds with lead and line. 
 Unto the depe the shipman throwes: 
 No foote to spare, he cries oft tymes. 
 No nere, when how the master blovves: 
 If Neptune frown all be undoen. 
 Strait waie the shipp the wrack hath won. 
 
 These daungers greate doe oft befall. 
 On those that shere vpon the sande: 
 Judge of their liues the best who shall. 
 How vile it is, fewe understande: 
 Alacke ! who then maie iudge their game : 
 Not thei whiche have not felt the same. 
 
 But thei that fall in stormes and winde. 
 And dales and yeres haue spent therein, 
 Suche well may iudge since profe thei find. 
 In rage no rest till calme begin : 
 No more then those, that loue doe faine, 
 Giue iudgment of true louers paine. 
 Finis. W.H. 
 
 No pleasure without 
 
 some pame. 
 
 How can the tree but wast and wither awaie. 
 That hath not some tyme comfort of the sonne: 
 How can that flower but fade and sone decaie. 
 That alwaies is with darke clouds ouer ronne ? 
 Is this a life, naie death you maie it call. 
 That feeles eche paine and knoweth no ioye at all. 
 
 What foodies beast can Hue long in good plight. 
 Or is it life where sences there be none : 
 
of ti.npmic ticuisicg. 65 
 
 Or what auaileth eyes without their light? 
 
 Or els a tonge to hyra, that is alone : 
 
 Is this a life ? naie death you male it call, 
 
 That fecles eche paine, and knowes no ioye at all. 
 
 Whereto serue cares, if that there be no sounde. 
 Or suche a head, where no deuise doeth growe : 
 But all of plaints, since sorrowe is the grounde. 
 Whereby the harte doeth pine in deadly woe. 
 Is this a life? naie death you male it call. 
 That feeles eche paine, and knows no ioye at all. 
 Finis. L. Faux. 
 
 The fruiles of faincd frendes. 
 In choise of frends what happy had I, to chuse one of Cirenes kinde, 
 Whose harpe, whose pipe, whose melodic, could feede my eares cS: make 
 
 (me blinde: 
 Whose pleasant noise made me forget, that in sure trust was great deceit. 
 
 In truste I see is treason founde, and man to man deceitfull is: 
 And whereas tresure doeth abounde, of flatterers there doc not misse. 
 Whose painted speache, and outward showe, doe scrae as frends and be 
 
 (not so. 
 
 Would I have thought in thee to be, the nature of the Crokadiil, 
 Which if a man n slepe male see, with bloudy thirst desires to kill : (slepe 
 And then with tcares a while gan wepc, the death of hym thus slaine a 
 
 Oflatterer false, thou traitor borne, what mischiefmoremight thou deuise. 
 
 Then thy deare frende to haue in scorne, and hym to wounde in sondrie 
 
 Which still a frende pretends to be, and art no so by profe I se. (wise? 
 
 Fie fie, upon suche trechery. 
 
 Finis. IK H. 
 
 Being importunate, at the length, he oltaineth. 
 
 A. Shall I no waie winne you, to graunt my desire ? 
 
 B. What woman will graunt you the thyng you require ? 
 A. You onely to loue me, is all that craue, 
 
 I i 
 
 You 
 
66 %%t pavabi^c 
 
 B. You onely to leaue me, is all I would have, 
 
 A. My deare alas now saie not so. 
 
 B. To loue you best, I must saie no. 
 
 A. Yet will I not flitt. B. then plaie on the bitt. 
 A. I. will. B. doe still. A. yet kill not. B. I will not. 
 A. Make me your man. B. beshiewe me than. 
 
 A. The swifter I foUowe, then you fly awaie. 
 
 B. Swift haukes in their fliying, oft times misse their praie. 
 
 A. Yet some killeth dedly, that flie to the marke. 
 
 B. You shall louche no feather, thereof take no carke. 
 
 A. Yet hope shall further my desire. 
 
 B. You blowe the coales, and raise no fire. 
 
 A. Yet will I not flitt. B. then plaie on the bitt. 
 A. I will. B. doe still. A. yet kill not. B. I will not. 
 A. Make me your man. B. beshrewe me than. 
 
 A. To loue IS no daunger, where true loue is ment. 
 
 B. I will loue no ranger, lest that I repent. 
 
 A. My loue is no ranger, I make God auow, 
 
 B. To trust your sm.oth saiyngs, I sure knowe not Low, 
 
 A. Most truthe I meane, as tyme shall well trie. 
 
 B. No truthe in men I oft espie. 
 
 A. Yet will I not flitt. B. then plaie on the bitt. 
 A. I will. B. doe still. A. yet kill not. B. I will not. 
 A. Make me your man. B. beshrewe me than. 
 
 A. Some women male saie naie, and meane loue moste true. 
 
 B. Some women can make fools, of as wise men as you. 
 
 A. In tyme I shall catche you, I knowe when and where: 
 
 B. I will Eone dispatche you, you shall not come there. 
 
 A. Some speds at length, that oft haue mist. 
 
 B. I am well armed, come when you list. 
 
 A Yet will I not flitt. B. then plaie on the bitt. 
 
 A. I will. B. doe still. A. yet kill not. B. I will not. 
 
 B. Make me your man. B. beshrewe me tlian. 
 
of aajjttm teuijscs* 67 
 
 A, Yet workc your kinde kindly, graunt rac louc for loue. 
 
 B. I will use you frendly, as I shall you proue. 
 
 A. Most close you shall finde me, I this doe protest. 
 
 B. Then sure you shall binde me to graunt your request. 
 
 A. O happie thredc now haue I sponne. 
 
 B. You syng before the conquest wonne. 
 
 A. Wh)' tlien will you swarue? B. euen as you deserue? 
 A. Loue still. B. I will. A. yet kill not. B. I will not. 
 A. Make me your man. B. come to me than. 
 
 Finis. M. B. 
 
 Requiryng the fauour of his loue, 
 She aunswereth thus. 
 
 M. What death male be, compared to loue ? 
 
 H; What grief therein, now doest thou prouc? 
 
 M. My paines alas who can expresse ? 
 
 H. I see no cause of heauinesse. 
 
 M. My Ladies looks, my wo hath wrought. 
 
 H. Then blame thyne eyes that first haue sought. 
 
 M. I burne alas, and blowe the fire. 
 
 H. A foole consumes by his desire. 
 
 M. What shall I do than ? H. come out and thou can. 
 
 H. Alas I die. M. what remedie ? 
 
 M. My sugrcd sweete, is mixed with gall. 
 
 H. Thy Ladie can not doe with all. 
 
 M. The more I secke, the lesse I finde. 
 
 H. Then striae not with the streame and winde. 
 
 M. Her I must loue, although I smarte, 
 
 H. With thy owne sworde, thou slaiest thy hartc. 
 
 M. Suche plesaunt baites who can refraine.> 
 
 H. Suche beats will sure brede the grtate painc. 
 
 M. What shal I do than ? H. Come out and thou can. 
 
 H Alas I die. M. What remedie ? 
 
 Her 
 
68 CDe ^Sat-aljisic 
 
 M. Her golden beames myne eyes doe daze. 
 H. Upon the Sonne thou maiest not gaze. 
 M. She might reward my cruell smarte. 
 H. She thou beareat a fained harte. 
 M. She laughes to heare my wofuU cries. 
 H. Forsake her then, in tynie be wise. 
 M. No no alas, that male not bee. 
 H. No wise man then will pitie thee. 
 M. What shall I do than ? H. come out and thou can. 
 M. Alas I die. H. What remedie? 
 
 M. A liuyng death, loe thus I proue. 
 H. Suche are the fruts of froward loue. 
 M. O that I might her loue once againe! 
 H. Thy gaine would not halfe quite the paine. 
 M. Her will I loue though she be coye. 
 H. A foole hym self will still anoye. 
 AI. Who will not die for suche a one? 
 H. Be wise at length, let her alone. 
 M. I can not doe so. H. then be thy owne foe. 
 M. Alas I die. H. What remedye? 
 Finis. E. S. 
 
 A loners 
 
 loye. 
 
 I haue no ioye, but drearae of ioye, and ioye to think on ioye, 
 A ioye I withstoode, for to enioye, to finish myne anoye: 
 I hate not without cause alas, yet loue I knowe not why, 
 I thought to hate, I can not hate, although that I should die; 
 A foe most swete, a frende most sower, I ioye for to embrace, 
 I hate the wrong, and not the wight that workt my wofuU case: 
 What thyng it is I knowe not I, but yet a thyng there is. 
 That in my fancie still perswads, there is no other blisse. 
 The ioyes of life, the pangs of death, it make me feele cche daie. 
 But life nor death, this humour can deuise to weare awaie. 
 Faine would I dye, but yet in death no hope I see remainesj 
 
of tiapmic tjcuijjess* 
 
 And shall I Hue? since life I see, a sourse of sorie paines : 
 What is it then that I doe soke, what ioye would I aspire? 
 A thyng that is dcuine belike, to high for mans desire. 
 Finis. F. K. 
 
 The iudgement of desire. 
 
 The liuely Larke did stretche her wyng^ 
 The messenger of mornyng bright : 
 And with her cherefuU voyce dyd syng 
 The daies approche, dischargyng night. 
 When that Aurora blushyng redd, 
 Discridc tlie gill of Thetis bedd: 
 Laradon tan tan, Tedriton teight. 
 
 I went abroad to take the aire. 
 And in the mcadds I mett a Knight : 
 Clad in carnation colour faire, 
 I did salute the youthfull wight. 
 Of hym I did his name enquire,' 
 He sight and saied, I am Desire. 
 Laradon, tan, tan, Tedriton teight. 
 
 Desire I did desire to stale. 
 
 Awhile with him I craucd talke: 
 
 The courteous wight saied rae no naie. 
 
 But hande in hande with me did walke. 
 
 Then in desire I askte againe. 
 
 What thing did please, and what did pain. 
 
 Laradon, tan, tan. 
 
 He smild and thus he answered me. 
 Desire can haue no greater paine, 
 Then for to see an other man, 
 The thyng desired to obtaine. 
 Ko ioye no greater to then this, 
 
 I ill 
 
 Then 
 
70 CJjc |).irat>i$ie 
 
 Then to Inioye what others misse, 
 LaridoDj tan, tan. 
 
 Finis. E. O. 
 
 The complaint of a louer, wearyng 
 Blacke and Tawnie. 
 
 A Croune of Bayes shall that man weare. 
 That triumphs ouer me: 
 For blacke and Tawnie will I weare, 
 Whiche mournyng colours be. 
 
 The more I folowed on, the more she fled awaie. 
 
 As Daphne did full long agone, ^polios wishfull praie. 
 
 The more my plaints resounde, the lesse she pities me. 
 
 The more I saught the lesse I founde, that myne she ment to be. 
 
 Melpomeney, alas with doleful! tunes helpe than. 
 
 And syng Lis wo wortlie on me forsaken man : 
 
 Then Daphnes bales shal that man weare, that triumphs ouer me. 
 
 For Blacke and Tawnie will I weare, which mournyng colours be. 
 
 Droune me you tricklyng teares, you wailefuU wights of woe. 
 Come help these ha'ds to rc~t my heares, my rufull happs to showe: 
 On whom the scorchyng flames of loue, doelh feede you se. 
 Ah a lalalantida, my deare dame hath thus tormented me. 
 
 Wherefore you Muses nine, with dolefuU tunes helpe than. 
 And syng Bis wo worthe on me forsaken man : 
 Then Daphnes Bales shall that man weare, that triumps ouer me. 
 For Blacke and Tannic will I weare, which mourning colours be. 
 
 An Ancres life to leade, with nailes to scratche my graue. 
 Where earthly wormes on me shall fede, is all the ioyes I craue. 
 And hid my self from shame, sith that myne eyes doe see. 
 Ah a alantida, my deare dame hath thus tormented me. 
 
 And 
 
of tin|iiuic iicut0c$j* 71 
 
 And all that present be, with doleful] tunes helpe than. 
 And syng Bis woe worthe on me, forsaken man. 
 Finis, E. O. 
 
 He complaineth thus. 
 
 Lo heare the man that must of loue complaine, 
 Lo heare that seas thai feclcs no kinde of blisse: 
 Lo here I seke for ioye, and finde but paine, 
 Lo what despite can greater be then this? 
 To freze to death, and stande yet by the fire. 
 And she that shonneth me moste, I doe desire. 
 
 L. But 5hall I speake alas, or shall I die? 
 
 A. By death no helpe, in speache some helpe doeth He. 
 
 L. Then from that breast, reraoue a Marble minde, 
 
 A. As I see cause, so are ye like to finde. 
 
 L. I yclde my self, what would you more of me ? 
 
 A. You yelde, but for to winnc and conquer me, 
 
 L. Sale and kill not, madarae. 
 
 A. Forsake your sute for shame. 
 
 No no no no, not so. 
 
 O happie man, now vaunt thy self. 
 That hath this conquest gainde. 
 And now doeth Hue in greate deHght, 
 That was so lately painde. 
 Triumph, triumph, triumph, who louers be, 
 Thrise happie is that woyng. 
 That is not long a doyng. 
 
 Triumph, triumph, triumph, that hath like victorie. 
 Finis. 
 
 Finding 
 
Findyng no relief, he coniplainetk thus. 
 
 In quest of my relief I finde distresse. 
 
 In recompence of loue, moste dope disdaine : 
 
 My langour is suche, wordes maie not express>e, 
 
 A shower of teares, my watrishe eye doeth raine, 
 
 I dreame of this, and doe deuine of wo, 
 
 I wander in the thoughts of my swete so. 
 
 I would no peace, the cause of warre I flie, 
 
 I hope, I feare, I burne, I chill in froste : 
 
 I lye alowe, yet mounts my minde on hie: 
 
 Tlius doubtfull stormes my troubled thoughts have toste, 
 
 And for my paine, this pleasure doe I proue, 
 
 I hate my self, and pine in others loue. 
 
 The worlde I graspe, yet hold I nought at all. 
 
 At libertie, I seme in prison pent : 
 
 I taste the sweete, more sower then bitter gall. 
 
 My shipp semes sounde, and yet her ribbs be rent. 
 
 And out alas, on Fortune false I crie, 
 
 Looke what I craue, that still she doeth denie. 
 
 Bothe life and death be equall unto me, 
 I doe desire to die, yet craue I life. 
 And witts with sondrie thoughts doe disagre. 
 My self am with my self at mortall strife : 
 As warmth of Sonne doeth melte the siluer Snowc 
 The heate of loue, beholde, consumes me so. 
 Finis. R. H. 
 
 Beyng in loue he cuviplaincth. 
 
 What dome is this, I faine would knowe, 
 That demeth by all contraries. 
 What God, or whether height or lowe. 
 Now would I learne some warrantisc. 
 Some sale the blinded God aboue. 
 
of tiflpntic ticuificci, 73 
 
 Is he that worketh all by loue : 
 
 But he that stirreth strife, the truthe to tell, 
 
 I alwaies feele, but knowe not well. 
 
 Some saie Alecto with her mates, 
 Are thai which brcedcth all anoye: 
 Who sitts like Haggs in hellishe gates, 
 And seeks still whom thei male destroye. 
 Some saie againe, lis destinie. 
 But how it comes, or what it is, 
 I let it passe, before I misse. 
 
 Despite doeth alwaies worke my wo, 
 And happ as yet holds hardly still : 
 For feare I set my frcndshipp so. 
 And thinke againe to reape good will. 
 I doe but striue against the winde. 
 For more I seeke, the lesse I finde : 
 And where I seeke most for to please. 
 There finde I alwaies my desease. 
 
 And thus I loue, and doe reape still, 
 Notbyng but bate for my good will. 
 
 A louer disdained, complaineth. 
 
 If euer man had loue to dearly bought, 
 I.o I am he that plaies within her maze: 
 And tinds no waie, to get the same I sought. 
 But as the Derc are driuen vnto tlie gaze. 
 And to augment the grief of my desire, 
 My self to burne, I blowe tlie fire: 
 But shall I come nyyou, 
 Of forse I must flie you. 
 
 Ki 
 
74 CBe paratif^e 
 
 What death, alas, maie be compared to this? 
 I plaie within the maze of my swete foe : 
 And when I would of her but craue a kis, 
 Disdaine enforceth her awaie to goe. 
 Myself I check : yet doe I twiste the twine: 
 The pleasure hers, the paine is myne: 
 But shall I come ny you. 
 Of forse I must flie you. 
 
 You courtly wights, that wants your pleasant choise, 
 
 Lende me a floud of teares to waile my chaunce: 
 
 Happie are thei in loue, that can reioyse. 
 
 To their greate paines, where fortune doeth aduaunce. 
 
 But sith my sute, alas, can not preuailel 
 
 Full freight with care in grief still will I waile: 
 
 Sith you will needs flie me, 
 
 I maie not come ny you. 
 
 Finis. L. V. 
 
 Beyng in loue he complaineth. 
 
 If care or skill, could conquere vaine desire. 
 
 Or reasons raines my strong affection stale; 
 
 Then should my sights to quiet breast retire. 
 
 And shunne such signes as secret thoughts bewraie. 
 
 Uncomely loue, whiche now lurks in ray breast. 
 
 Should cease, my grief through wisdoms power opprest. 
 
 But who can leaue to looke on Venus face. 
 
 Or yeldeth not to Junos high estate? 
 
 What witt so wise as giues not Pallas place? 
 
 These virtues rare eche Godds did yelde amate, 
 
 Saue her alone who yet on yearth doeth reigne. 
 
 Whose beauties stryng no Gods can well destraine. 
 
 What worldly wight can hope for heauenly hire. 
 When onely sights must make his secret mone ? 
 
 A silent 
 
of Ijflpntie t>cuite<J, 15 
 
 A silent sute doeth seld to Grace aspire. 
 My haples happe docth role to rcstlcs stone : 
 Yet Phele faire disdainde the hcauens aboue. 
 To ioye on yearth her poore EndimwnsXoM^. 
 
 Rare is reward where none can iustly craue, 
 Forchaunce is choisc where reason niaks no claime: 
 Yet lucke sometymfes dispairyng souls doeth saue, 
 A happie starrc made G'lges ioye attaine, 
 A slauishe Smith, of rude and rascall race, 
 Founde means in tyme to gaine a Goddes grace. 
 
 Then loftie Love, thy sacred sailes aduauncc. 
 My sithyng seas, shall Howe with strearaes of teares: 
 Amidds disdaine driue forthe my dolefull chaunce, 
 A valiaunt minde no deadly dauDger feares. 
 Who loues alofte, and setts his harte on hie, 
 Deserues no painc, though he doe pine and die. 
 Finis. M.B. 
 
 A louer reiected complainelh. 
 
 The tricklyng teares that fales along my cheeks. 
 The secret sighs, that showes my inward grief. 
 The present paincs perforce, that loue aye seeks, 
 Bidds me renew my cares without relief. 
 In wofiiU song, indole displaie. 
 My pensiue harte for to bewraie. 
 
 Bewraie thy grief thou wofull harte with speede, 
 Resigne thy voyce, to her that causde thy woe : 
 With irksome cries bewaile thy late doen dcede. 
 For she thou louest, is sure thy mortall foe: 
 And helpe for thee there is none sure. 
 But still in paine thou must endure. 
 
 Kii 
 
76 Cht ^atamt 
 
 The striken Deare hath helpe to heale his wounde. 
 The haggerd hauke with toile is made full tame : 
 The strongest tower the Canon laies on grounde. 
 The wisest witt, that ever had the fame. 
 Was thrall to Loue, by Cupids sleights. 
 Then waie my case with equall waights. 
 
 She is my ioye, she is my care and wo. 
 She is my paine, she is my ease therefore j 
 She is my death, she is my life also. 
 She is my salue, she is my wounded sore. 
 In fine she hath the hande and knife. 
 That maie both sane and ende my life. 
 
 And shal I Hue on yearth to be her thral? 
 And shall I sue, and serue her all in vaine. 
 And kisse the stepps that she lettsfall? 
 And shall I praie the gods to kepe the pain 
 From her, that is so cruell still ? 
 No, no, on her woorke all your will. 
 
 And let her feele the power of all your might. 
 And let her haue her moste desire with speede : 
 And let her pine awaie, bothe dale and night. 
 And let her mone and none lament her neede : 
 And let all those that shal her se. 
 Despise her state, and pi tie me. 
 
 finis. E. O. 
 
 Not attainyng to his desire, he complaineth, 
 
 1 am not as seme to bee. 
 Nor when I smile, I am not glad : 
 A thrall although you count mc free, 
 I moste in rairthe moste pensiue sadd. 
 I sraile to shade my bitter spight. 
 As Hanibal, that sawe in sicrht 
 
of tjapittie ueui^e^; 77 
 
 His countrey soile with Carthage tonne. 
 By Romaine force defaced downe. 
 
 And Cicsar tliat presented was. 
 With noble Pompcyes princely hedd. 
 As twere some iudgc to rule the case, 
 A floud of teares he seniJc to shcdd. 
 Although in deede it spronge of ioye. 
 Yet others thought it was annoye : 
 Thus contraries be vsed I finde. 
 Of wise to cloke the couent minde; 
 
 I Hanilall that smiles for grief. 
 And let you C^sars teares sufBce: 
 The one that laughs at his mischief. 
 The other all for ioye that cries : 
 I smile to see me scorned so. 
 You wepe for ioye to sec me wo : 
 And I a harte by loue slaine dead 
 Presents in place of Pompeyes head. 
 
 O cruell happ, and harde estate. 
 That forceth me to loue my foe : 
 Accursed be so foule a fate, 
 My choise for to profixe it so. 
 So long to fight with secret sore,' 
 And finde no secret salue therefore : 
 Some purge their paine by plaint I finde. 
 But 1 in vaine doe breathe my winde. 
 Fmh. E. 0. 
 
 His myndc not quietly sctled, he wrilcth thus. 
 
 Even as the waxe doelh melt, or dewe consume awaic 
 
 Before the Sonne, so I behold through careful thoughts decaie : 
 
 For my best lucke leads me to suche sinister state, 
 
 Kiii 
 
©Be parabigc 
 
 That I doe wast with others loue that hath myself hi hate. 
 And he that beats the bushe the wished birde not getts. 
 But suche I see as sitteth still and holds the foulyng netts. 
 
 The Drone more honie sucks that labouretb not at all. 
 
 Than doeth the Bee to whose most pain least pleasure doth befall : 
 
 The Gardner sowes the seeds whereof the flowers doe growe. 
 
 And others yet doe gather them that tooke lesse paine I knowe : 
 
 So I the pleasaunt grape have pulled from the Vine. 
 
 And yet I languish in greate thirst while others drinke the wine. 
 
 Thus like a wofuU wight I woue my webb of woe, 
 The more I would wede out my cares the more thei seme to grow : 
 The whiche betokeneth hope forsaken is of me. 
 That with the careftill culuer climes the worne & withered tree: 
 To entertaine my thoughts and there my happe to mone. 
 That ueuer am lesse idle, loe, then when I am alone. 
 Finis. E. O. 
 
 Of the mightie power of Loue. 
 
 My meanyng is to worke what wondes loue hath wrought, 
 Wherwith I muse why me" of wit have love so derely bought: 
 For loue is worse then hate and eke more harrae hath doen. 
 Record I take of those that rede of Paris Priams sonne. 
 
 It semed the God of slepe had mazed so muche his witts. 
 When he refused witt for loue, which cometh but by fitts: 
 But why accuse I hym whom yearth hath couered long: 
 There be of his posteritie aliue, I doe hym wrong. 
 
 Whom I might well comdempne, to be a cruell iudge 
 Unto myself, who hath the crime in others that I grudge. 
 Finis. E. O. 
 
 Beyng 
 
of bnuntte bctiigc?, 
 
 Beyng disdained he comp/ainelh. 
 
 If frendlesse failhe, if giltlesse thought may shield. 
 If simple trulhe that neuer ment to sweru.e: 
 If derc desire accepted frute doe yield. 
 If grefdie Iiisl in loyall life doe serue. 
 Then my plaint bewaile my heauie harme. 
 That sekyng calme haue stombled on the storme. 
 
 My wonted cheare ecclipsed by the cloude 
 
 Of deepe disdaine, through errour of rcporte, 
 
 Ifwearie woe enwrapped in thy shroude. 
 
 Lies slaine by tonge of the unfrendly sorte. 
 
 Yet heaven and yearth and all that nature wrought, 
 
 I call to vowe of my unspotted thought. 
 
 No shade I seke in parte to shilde my taint: 
 But simple truthe I hunt no other sute, 
 On that I gape the issue of my plaint. 
 If that I quaile let iustice me confute: 
 If that my place amongs the giltles sort 
 Repaie by dome my name aud good report. 
 
 Goe heauie verse persue desired grace, 
 Where pittie shrind in cell of secret brest. 
 Awaits my hast the rightfull lott to place. 
 And lothes to see the giltles man opprest: 
 Whose vertues great have crouned her more with fame. 
 Then kyngly state though largely shine the same. 
 Finis. L. Vaux. 
 
 Of the meane estate. 
 
 The higher that the Ceder tree under the heauens doe growe. 
 The more in danger is the top when sturdie winds gan blowe : 
 Who iudges then in princely throne to be deuoide of hate, 
 Doeth not yet knowe what heapcs of ill lies hid in suchc estate. 
 
80 CJjc pai-afiist 
 
 Suche dangers greafe, such gripes of minde, such tolle doe thei sustaine. 
 That oftentimes of God thei wishe to be unkyngde againe. 
 
 For as the huge & mightie rocks withstande the ragyng seas. 
 
 So kyngdoms in subiection be whereas dame Fortune please : 
 
 Of brittle ioye, of smilyng cheare, of honie mist with gall. 
 
 Allotted is to euery Prince in fredome to be thrall : 
 
 What watches longe what stepps unsure what grefes and cares of minde, 
 
 What bitter broiles, what endles toiles, to kyngdoms be assingde. 
 
 The subiect then maie well compare w'. prince for plesant dales, 
 Whose silent might bryngs quiet rest whose might no storme bewraies : 
 How much be we then bounde to God who suche prouision maks 
 To laye our cares upon the prince, thus doeth he for our saks : 
 To hyra therefore let us lift up our harts and praie a maine. 
 That euery Prince that he hath plast, maie long in quiet raigne. 
 Finis. L. r. 
 
 Of a contented mynde. 
 
 When all is doen and saied, in the ende thus shall you finde, 
 The most of all doeth bathe in blisse that hath a quiet minde: 
 And clere from worldly cares to deame can be content. 
 The swetest tyme in all his life in thinkyng to be spent. 
 
 The bodie subiect is to fickle Fortunes power, 
 And to a million of mishapps is casuall euery hower: 
 And death in tyme doeth chaunge it to a clodde of claye, 
 When as the mynde which is deuine runnes neuer to decaie. 
 
 Companion none is like vnto the mynde alone. 
 
 For many haue beenharmde by speache, through thinking fewe or none: 
 Fewe oftentymes restraineth words but maks not thoughts to cease. 
 And he speaks best that hath the skill when for to holde his peace. 
 
 Our wealth leaues at death our kinsmen at the graue. 
 
 But vertues of the mynde vnto the heauens with us we haue : 
 
of Damtic Druisicjj. 81 
 
 Wlieret'ore for vertues sake I can be well content, 
 Theswetest lyme of all my life to deme in thinkyng spent. 
 Finis. L. F. 
 
 Trie lefore you trust. 
 
 To counsell my estate abandonde to the spoile. 
 
 Of forged frendes whose grosest fraude it set with finest foile : 
 
 To verific true dealyng wights whose trust no treason dreads. 
 
 And all to deare thacqunintance be of suche moste harmful! heads : 
 
 1 am aduised thus, who so doeth frende, frendc so, 
 
 As though to morrowe next he feared for to become a fo. 
 
 To haiie a fained frendc no pcrill like I tinde. 
 
 Oft fleryng face male mantell best a mischief in the mynde : 
 
 A paire of angels eares oft tymes doeth hide a serpents harte. 
 
 Under whose gripes who so doeth come to late co-plaines ye. smart : 
 
 Wherefore I doe aduise, who so doeth frende, frende soe. 
 
 As though to morrowe next he should become a mortall foe. 
 
 Refuse respectyng frends that courtly knowe to faine, 
 For gold that winnes, for gold shall lose the selfsame frend againe: 
 The Quaile needs neuer feare in foulers netts to fall. 
 If he would neuer bende his eare to listen to his call : 
 Therefore trust not to sone, but when you frende, frende soe. 
 As though to morrowe next ye fcard for to become a foe. 
 Finis. L. Faux. 
 
 He reiiouncclh all the affectes of toue. 
 
 Like as the Harte that lifteth up his eares. 
 To heare the hounds, that hath hym in the chase, 
 Doeth cast the windc in daungers and in feares. 
 With fliyng foote to passe awaie apace : 
 So must I fly of loue the vaine pursute. 
 Whereof the gainc is lesser then the friute. 
 
82 ESc ^aratJisc 
 
 And I also must lothe those learyng looks. 
 Where lone doeth lurke still with a subtill slaight. 
 With painted mocks and inward hidden hooks. 
 To trapp by trust, that lieth not in waiter 
 The ende whereof, assaie it who so shall, 
 Is sugred smart and inward bitter gall. 
 
 And I also must flie such Sirian songs. 
 Where with that Circes, Ulisses did enchaunt ; 
 These wilie Watts I raeane with filed tongs. 
 That harts of Steele haue power to daunt : 
 Who so, as hauke that stoppeth to their call. 
 For moste desart receiueth least of all. 
 
 But woe to me that first behelde those eyes. 
 
 The trapp wherein J saie that I was tane: 
 
 An outward salue whiche inward me destroies. 
 
 Whereto I runne as Ratt unto her bane: 
 
 As to the fishe sometyme it doeth befall. 
 
 That with the baite doeth swaUowe hooke and all. 
 
 Within my breast wherewith I daiely fedd. 
 The vaine repast of amorous hot desire. 
 With loytryng lust so long that hath me fedd. 
 Till he hath brought me to the flamyng fire: 
 In tyme at Phenix ends her care and carks, 
 1 make the fire and burne myself with sparks. 
 Finis. L. Faux. 
 
 Beyng in sorroive he comp/ainelh. 
 
 Mistrust misdemes amisse whereby displeasure growes, 
 And time delaied finds fre^ds afraied their faith for to disclose: 
 Suspect that breede the thought and thoughte to sighes conuarte. 
 And sighs haue sought a floud of teares wher sobbs do seke ye. hart. 
 
 Thus 
 
of Dnniric Jjcuioco. 8S 
 
 Thus harte that meanes no harme must feecle on sorrowes all, 
 Untill suche tymeas pleaseth the iudge the truth in question call: 
 Though cause of greate mistrust before that iudge appeare. 
 My truthe and mercie of my iudge I trust sliall set me cleare. 
 
 Report these rimes at large my truthe for to detccte. 
 Yet trutiie in lyme shall trie it self and driue awaic suspecte: 
 Bcleve not euery speache, nor speake not all you heare. 
 For truthe and mercie of the iudge I trust shall set me cleare. 
 Finis. L. r. 
 
 Beytig in louc he complainelk. 
 
 Enforst by loue and feare to please and not offende. 
 
 Within the words you would me write a message must I sende: 
 
 A wofull errande sure a wretched man must write, 
 
 A wretched talc a wofull head besemeth to cndite. 
 
 For what can he bat waile that hath but all he would. 
 
 And yet that all is nought at all, but lacke of all he should; 
 
 But lacke of all his minde what can be greater greif. 
 
 That haue & lacke that likes him best must neds be most mischief. 
 
 Now foole what maks thee waile, yet some might saie full well. 
 That hast no harme but of thyself as thou thyself canst tell: 
 To whom I aunswere thus, since all my harmes doc growc 
 Upon myself, so of myself some happ maie come I Irowe. 
 
 And .since I see bothe happ and harm betids to me. 
 
 For present woe my after blisse will make me not forget thee : 
 
 Who hath a field of golde and maie not come therein. 
 
 Must liuc in hope till he have forse his treasure well to winne. 
 
 Whose ioyes by hope of dreadc to conquere or to lose. 
 
 So greate a wealth doeth rise and for example docth disclose: 
 
 To winne the golden flcse stoode la.son not in drede. 
 
 Till that Mcdeas hope of hclpe did giue hym hope to spcde. 
 
 Lii 
 
84 Cj&e jDavatiisic 
 
 Yet sure his mmde was muche and yet his feare the more, 
 That hath no happ but by your helpe maie happ for to restore: 
 The ragyng Bulls he dread yet by his Ladies charme. 
 He knewe it might be brought to passe thei could doe little harme. 
 
 Unto whose grace yelde he as I doe offer me. 
 
 Into your handes to haue his happ not like hym for to be; 
 
 But as kyng Priamus did biiide hym to the will, 
 
 Of Cressed false whiche hym forsooke with Diomede to spill. 
 
 So I to you commende my faithe and eke my ioye, 
 1 hope you will not be so false as Cressed was to Troye : 
 For if I be untrue her Lazares death I wishe. 
 And eke to thee if I be false her clapper and her dishe. 
 Finis. R. L. 
 
 Beyng in trouhle, he wrilelh thus. 
 
 In terrours trapp with thraldome thrust. 
 Their thornie thoughts to cast and trie : 
 In conscience cleare from case uniust. 
 With carpyng cares did call and crie. 
 And saied, O God, yet thou art he 
 That can and will deliuer me! Bis. 
 
 Thus tremblyng there with teares I trodd. 
 To totter tide in truthes defence : 
 With sighes and sobbs, I saied, O God ! 
 Let right not have this recompence : 
 Lest that ray foes might laugh to see. 
 That thou wouldest not deliuer me. Bis. 
 
 My soule then to repentaunce ranne. 
 My ragged clothes be rent and torne. 
 And did bewaile the losse it wanne, 
 With lolhsome life so long forlorne: 
 And saied, O God ! yet thou art he 
 That can and will deliuer me. Bis. 
 
 Then 
 
of Dnintic Dcuitc0. 85 
 
 Then comfort came with clothes of ioye, 
 Whose semes were faithful! stedfastnessc: 
 And did bedecke that naked boye. 
 Which erst was full of wrctchednesse : 
 And saied, be glad, for God is he 
 That shortly will deliuer thee. Bix. 
 
 Finh. T. M. 
 
 Beyng troulkd in myndc, he 
 ivriteth as followeth. 
 
 The bitter sweate that straines my yelded harte. 
 The carelesse count that doeth the same embrace. 
 The doubtfull hope to reape my due desarte. 
 The pensiue path that guids my restlesse race, 
 Are at suche warre within my wounded brest. 
 As doeth bereue my ioye and eke my rest. 
 
 My greedie will, that scks the golden gaine. 
 My luckles lot doeth alwaie take in worthe : 
 My mated mynde, that dredes my safes in vaine. 
 My piteous plaint doeth helpc for to set forihe: 
 So that betwene twoo wanes of ragyng seas, 
 I driue my dales in troubles and desease. 
 
 My wofull eyes doe take their chief delight. 
 To feede their fill vpon the pleasaunt maze: 
 My hidden harmes that growe in me by sight. 
 With pinyng paines doe driue me from the gaze : 
 And to my hope I reape no other hire. 
 But burne myself and I to blowe the fire. 
 Fini!. I. H. 
 
 Lookc or you leapc. 
 
 If thou in suertie safe wilt sitt, 
 If thou delight at rest to dwell. 
 Spends no more words then shall seme fitt. 
 
Let tonge in silence talke expell: 
 
 In all thyngs that thou seest men bent, 
 
 Se all, sale nought, holde thee content. 
 
 Ja worldly works degrees are three. 
 Makers, doers, and lookers on : 
 The lookers on have libertie, 
 Bothe the others to iudge upon: 
 Wherefore in all as men are bent, 
 Se all, sale nought, holde thee content. 
 
 The makers oft are in fault founde. 
 The doers doubt of praise or shame : 
 The lookers on finde surest grounde, 
 Thei haue the fruite yet free from blame : 
 This doeth persuade in all here ment, 
 Se all, sale nought, holde thee content. 
 
 The prouerbe is not South and West, 
 Whiche hath be saied long tyme agoe. 
 Of little medlyng conieth rest. 
 The busie man neuer wanted woe : 
 The best waie is in all worlds sent, 
 Se all, sale nought, holde thee content. 
 Finis. Jasper Heywood. 
 
 He bewaileth his mishappe. 
 
 In wretched state, alas, I rewe my life. 
 Whose sorrowes rage torments with deadly paine : 
 In drowned eyes beholde my teares be rife. 
 In doubtful! state a wrelche I must remaine: 
 You wofull wights enured to like distresse, 
 Bewaile with me my wofull heauinesse. 
 
 What stonie harte suche hardnes can retaine. 
 That sharpe remorse no rest can finde therein .- 
 
 What 
 
of ij.iiiitic i)tum&. 87 
 
 What rulhlesse eyes so carelesse can remaine, 
 That daiely teares maie pitie winner 
 For right I seeke and yet renewe my sore, 
 Vouchsalfe at length my sal'tie to restore. 
 
 My loue is lost, woe worthe in woe I dye, 
 Disdainful! harte doeth worke such hateful! spite : 
 In los?e of louc a wretclie must ioye to dye, 
 For life is death now hope is banisht quite : 
 O deatli approche bcreue my life from me. 
 Why should I liue opprest with woe to be. 
 Firm. R. H. 
 
 The complaint of a Synncr. 
 
 O Heaueniy God ! O Father dt-re! cast donne thy tender eye 
 Upon a wretchc, that prostrate here before thy trone doeth lye: 
 O powre thy precious oyle of grace into my wounded harte, 
 O let the dropps of mercie swage the rigour of my smarte. 
 
 My fainting soule suppressed sore, with careful! clogge of sinne. 
 In humble sort submitts it self thy mercie for to winne : 
 Graunt mercie then, O saviour swete! to me moste woful! thrall. 
 Whose mornful! crie to thee, O Lorde! doeth still for mercie call. 
 
 Thy blessed will I haue despised vpon a stubborne minde. 
 And to the swaie of worldly thyngs myself I haue enclinde : 
 Forgcttyng heaucn &- beaue''ly powers, where God and saincts do dwel. 
 My life had likt to tread the path, y'. leads the waic to hell. 
 
 But nowe my lorde, my lode starre bright, I will no more doe so. 
 To thinke vpon my former life my harte doeth melt for woe: 
 Alas! I sigh, alas! Isobbe, alas! I doe repent 
 That euermy licencious will so wickedly was bent. 
 
 Sith thus therefore with yernfuU plain I doe thy mercie crauc, 
 O Lorde for thy greate mercies sake let me thy mercie haue : 
 Restore to life the wretched soule that els is like to dye. 
 So shall my voyce vnto thy name syng praise eternally. 
 
88 Cftc pavatjigt 
 
 Now blessed be tlie Father first, and blessed be the Sonne, 
 And blessed be the holie Ghoste, by whom all thyngs are doen : 
 Blesse me, o blessed Trinitie, with thy eternall grace, 
 That after death my soule male haue in heauen a dwellyng place. 
 finis. F. K. 
 
 The fruite that sprynges from luilful wiles, is ruthe, and ruins rage: 
 And sure what heedelesse youth committes repentaunce rues in age. 
 
 I rage in restlesse ruthe and ruins rule my dales, 
 I rue, to late, my rechlesse youthe by rules of reasons waies : 
 I ran so long a race in searche of surest waie. 
 That leasure learnde me tread the trace that led to leud decaie. 
 I gaue so large a raine to unrestrained bitt, 
 That now with proofe of after paine I waile my want of witt. 
 { trifeled forthe the tyme with trust to self conceipies. 
 Whilst ple'ties vse prickt forth ray prime to search for sugred baites: 
 Wherein once learnde to findc I founde so sweete a taste. 
 That dewe foresight of after speede self will estemed waste: 
 Whiche will, through wilfulnesse, hath wrought my witlesse fall. 
 And heedlesse youthes unskilfulnesse hath lapt my life in thrall : 
 Whereby by proofe I knowe that pleasure breedeth paine. 
 And he that euill seede doeth sowe euill frute must reape againe. 
 Let suche therefore whose youth and pursses are in Prime, 
 Foresee & shun the helplesse ruthe whicli sews misspence of time. 
 For want is next to waste and shame doeth synne ensue, 
 Euil speding proofe hath hedeles hast, myself hath proued it true. 
 When neighbours next house burnes tis tyme thereof take hede. 
 For fortunes whele hath choise of turnes which change of chases breds. 
 My saile hath been aloft though now I beare but lowe. 
 Who dims to high selde falleth soft, dedst ebbe hath highest flowe. 
 Finis. Q. Yloop. 
 
 Imprinted at London by Henry Disle, dwellyng at the 
 
 Southwest doore of S. Paules Churche. 
 
 1576. 
 
A P F E N D I 
 
90 CSc paralii^t 
 
 [Copy of the title of edition! 1580] 
 
 The Paradyse 
 of daintie Deuices. 
 Contayning sundrie pithie preceptes, learned 
 Counsels, and excellent Inuentions: r'glit pleasaunt 
 and profitable for all estates. 
 Deuised and written for the most part by M. Edwards, sometimes 
 of her Maiesties Chappell: the rest by sundrye lear- 
 ned Gentlemen, both of Honour, and Wor- 
 ship, whose names hereafter 
 followe. 
 
 [^Device of Angel and heart.'} 
 
 Imprinted at London, by Henry Dizle, 
 
 dwelling in Paternoster Rowe, and are to be solde at 
 
 his Shoppe, in Cannons lane, neare the great 
 
 North Dore of S. Paules 
 
 Church. 
 
 1580. 
 
 [Back of the title arms of Sir Henry Compton Knight ; and under them 
 the enumeration of authors, viz.] 
 
 The names of f Saint Barnard. > /"Jasper Heywood. 
 
 those who J E. O. L J -^^^ Kindlemarsh. 
 
 wrote these | Lord Vaux, the elder. ( \ ^- Sand. 
 
 Deuises. Iw. Hunis. J Lm. Yloop. 
 
of trnwiiric ijcuisscis. Si 
 
 [^Additions from the edition of 1580.] 
 
 Amid the vale die slender shrubbe is hid from all mishap. 
 
 When taller tree, thai standes aloft, is rent with thunder clappe. 
 
 The turrets tops which touch the clouds, are beat with every blast. 
 
 Soon shivered are their stones with stormc and quickly overcast: 
 
 Best bodved tree in all the world for timber beame is found. 
 
 And to the axe the sturdiest ose doth yeclde and fall to ground : 
 
 The highest bill doth soonest feele the flash of lightninges flame. 
 
 And soonc deeayes the poinpe and pryde of high renowned name. 
 
 Of all the heard the huntsman seekes by proof as doth appeare. 
 
 With double forked arrowhead to wound the greatest deare. 
 
 The haughtiest liead of all the drove enjoyest the shortest life. 
 
 And stains the slaugliter house with blood, at prick of butchers knife. 
 
 Thus what thing highest place attaines is soonest ovcrthrowne. 
 
 Whatever fortune sets aloft she threats to throw it downe: 
 
 And though no force resist thy power, and seeke thee to confound. 
 
 Yet doth tTie praise of weighty tliinges declyne it seife to ground. 
 
 For rtstlesse tipe of rovvlling wheele example hath it tride. 
 
 To heavy burthen yeeldo it must full soone and slippe asyde. 
 
 Whatvailes the rich his bed of downe, that sighes for sleeples thought. 
 
 What time on couch of flock tha poorc sleepes sound and feareth nought : 
 
 At homely boord his quiet foode, his drinks in treeue be tane. 
 
 When oft the proude in cuppes of gold, with wine receive their bane. 
 
 The bed, the boord, the dread in doubt, with trayne to be opprest. 
 
 When fortune frownes their power must yeeldc as wyre unto the wrest. 
 
 Whoso thou be that sits alow and tread the valleyes path. 
 
 Thou necdcs not feare the thunder bolts of mighty Jove his wrath; 
 
 \i Icarus had not presumed to high to take his flight. 
 
 He had not yet bene<lrowned in seas that now Icarion hight : 
 
 \( Phaeton had not enterprised to guide his fatiieis seate. 
 
 His fires had not inflamed the world nor bene destroyed with heate: 
 
 But whoso climes above the meane, there is no hope of stay. 
 
 The higher up the sooner downe, and nearer his decay. 
 
 Then you that here in pompe are plaste, to guide the golden mace. 
 
 Let crowne k Scepter both obay the meane of virtues race. 
 
 For 
 
 Mil 
 
92 a laaratiise 
 
 For neither shall renowned virtue see the pitte of hell, 
 Nor yet in tombe of marble stone she shall abide to dwell : 
 And in that tombe full bravely dect, when that she shall depart, 
 God send her re=t and all thinges well according to desart. 
 But from sepulcher flies she hence beyond the slvies above, 
 And glistering in the blissful! starres she raignes with mighty Jove. 
 Finis. Jasper Heywood. 
 
 A replie to M. Edwards May. [Ante fol. 1 .] 
 
 I read a maying rime of late delighted much my eare. 
 It may delight as many moe, as it shall reade or heare. 
 To see how there is shewed how May is much of price, 
 And eke to May when that you may even so is his advice. 
 It seemes he meant to may himselfe, and so to use his skill. 
 For that the time did serve so well, in May to have his will. 
 His only May was ease of mind so farre as I can gesse, 
 And that his May his mind did please a man can judge no lesse. 
 
 And as himselfe did reape the fruites of that his pleasant May, 
 
 He wils his freende the same to use in time when as he may. 
 
 He is not for himselte it seemes but wisheth well to all, 
 
 For that he would they should take May in time when it doth fall. 
 
 So use your May, you may, it cannot hurtfiiU be. 
 
 And May well used in time & place may make you mery gle: 
 
 Modest maying meetest is, of this you may be sure, 
 
 A modest maying quietnes lo Mayers doth procure. 
 
 Who may & will not take, may wish he had so done. 
 Who may & it doth take, may thinke he tooke too sone: 
 So joyne your May with wisedomes lore and then you may be sure. 
 Who makes his May in other sort his unrest may procure. 
 Some may before May come, some may when IVIay is past. 
 Some make their May to late and some doe May post hast : 
 Let wisedome rule I say your May, and thus I make an ende. 
 And May that when you list to May, a good May God you sende 
 
 Finis. M. S. 
 
of Ociiuujc lictiiflcs, 93 
 
 An epitaph upon the death of Sir Edward Saunders, Knight, LnrJ 
 Chiefe Baron of the Exchequer. 
 
 You muses weare your mourning weeds, strike on the fatal drome, 
 
 Sound Triton out the tmmpc of Fame, in spite of Parcas dome: 
 
 Distill PaJ7/(ts\s«i pleasant drops, possesse I'ieridcs place, 
 
 Apollo helpe with dolefull tune to waile this wofull case : 
 
 Wring hard your hands, waile on your losse, lament the fate that fell, 
 
 With sobs and sighes to Saunders say, oh Saunders now farewell! 
 
 Whom Phielus fed with Pallas pappe, as one of Sibils seede, 
 
 Loe here where death did rest his corps, the vcrmine foule to feede: 
 
 Whom Impes of Jove with Kccter sweete, long in Libethres noursht. 
 
 Behold how dreadfull death him brought, to the whence became first,; 
 
 Lycurgus he, for learned liiwes, Rhadamanthus race that ranne. 
 
 Another Nestur for advice Zaiucus fame that wanne: 
 
 A Damon deare unto his frecnd, in faith like Phocion found, 
 
 A Cato that could counsell give, to prince a subject sound : 
 
 Xot Athens for their Solon sage, not Rvnie for Numa waile. 
 
 As we for Saunders death have cause, in fods of teares to saile. 
 
 Nor Sparta card for Chilos death, no proud Prienna prest. 
 
 To wepe for Bias as we wayle for Saunders late possest. 
 
 His learned pathes, his talentes rare, so now by death appeares. 
 
 As he that Salomon sought toaerve, in prime & youthful! yeercs: 
 
 His counsel sad, his rules, his lawes, in country soyle so wrought, 
 
 As though in Cuma he had ben of sage Sililla taught: 
 
 His vertuous life was such I say, as Vertue did embrace. 
 
 By Vertue taught, in Veitues schoole to grow in V'ertucs race. 
 
 Might tender babes, might orphnnts weak, might widows rere the cry, 
 
 The sound thereof should pearce the cloudes, to skale the empire sky : 
 
 To bid the Gods to battel bend and to dissend in sight. 
 
 Though farre unfit, and mates unmeete, with mortal men to fight. 
 
 Too late (alas) we wish his life, to soone decei\ ed us Death : 
 
 Too little wit we have to seeke the dead agaync to breath. 
 
 What helpelesse is must carelesse be, as Natures course doili shewe, 
 
 For Death shall reape what life hath sowen, by nature this we know. 
 
 Where is that fierce Achilles fled, where is King Turnus shroude. 
 
 What is become of Piramus state, where is PerianJer proud ? 
 
94, C6e ^aratiige 
 
 Hector, Hanno, Hannilal dead, Pompeii, Pirrhus spild, 
 
 Scipio, Cirus, Cesar slaine, and Alexander kild: 
 
 So long there Fortune fast die flee and charged Fame to sound. 
 
 Till frowning Fortune foyld by face which fawning Fortune found; 
 
 Shun Fortunes feates, shake Fortune of, to none is Fortune sound, 
 
 Sith none may say of Fortune so I fortune faithful! found: 
 
 Beholde where Fortune flowed so fast, and favoured Saunders lure, 
 
 Till fickle Fortune false again did Saunders death procure. 
 
 Lo clothed could in cloddes of clay, in drossy dust remaine, 
 
 By fate returned from whence he came to his mothers wombe againe. 
 
 Who welnigh thirtie yeeres was judge, before a judge dyd fall. 
 
 And judged by that mighty judge, which judge, shall judge us all. 
 
 The heavens may of right rejoice, and earth may it bevvayle, 
 
 Sith heaven wan and earth hath lost the guide and arke of vaile: 
 
 There gaine is muche, our losse is great, their mirth our mone is such. 
 
 That they may laugh as cause doo yeeld, & we may weepe as much. 
 
 O happy he, unhappy we, his hap doth aye increase, 
 
 Happy he, & haplcsse we, his hap shall never cease. 
 
 We live to die, he dyed to live, we want iic he possest, 
 
 We bide in bands, he bathes in blisse, the Gods above him blest. 
 
 Being borne to live, he lived to dye, and dyed to God so plaine, 
 
 That birth, that life, that death doo shew that he shall live againe. 
 
 His youth to age, his age to death, his death to fame applied. 
 
 His fame to lime, his time to God, thus Saunders lived & dyed. 
 
 O happy life, O happier death, O tenne times happy he, 
 
 Whose hap it was, such hap to have, a judge this age to be. 
 
 Oh joyAill time. Oh blessed soyle, where Pallas rules with witte, 
 
 noble state, O sacred seate, where Saba sage dooth sitte! 
 Like Susan sound, like Sara sad, with Hesters mace in hand. 
 With Judiths sword, Bellona like, to rule this noble land. 
 
 1 had my will, you had your wish, I laugh, rejoyce you may, 
 I wan now much, you gaine no lesse, to see this happy day: 
 Wherein I dyed, wherein you live. Oh treble happy cost! 
 Wherein I joyed in glory great, wherein you triumph most. 
 
 Knele onyourknes,knock hard yourbrests, sound forth the joyfull drome 
 Glap loude your handes, sound Echo say, the golden world is come. 
 
 Kejoyce, 
 
of D.uuinc t)cin$f0. 9.s 
 
 Rejoyce you judges may of right, your mirth may now be such. 
 As never earst you judges had in England mirlh so much. 
 Here Cuma is, here Sibill raigncs, on Dclphos aeate to sitte. 
 Here she like Phielus rules, that can Gordiits knot unknitte- 
 I lived to nature long enough, I lived to honour much, 
 I lived at wish, I died at will, lo see my country such. 
 As ntithcr needes it Kumas Irnves nor yet yf/)ol/os sweard. 
 For mauger Mars, yet Mars shall be of this our Queene afeard. 
 O poerlesse pearlc! O diamond deer! O queene of qucenes, farwell. 
 Your royall majrstie God preserve in England long to dwell. 
 Farwell the Pliwnix of the world, farwell my soveraigne queene, 
 Farwell most noble vertuou:; prince, Minervas mate I weene. 
 No iuel, gemme, nogolde to give, no pearles from Pactoloslo 
 No Persian Gaze, no Indian stones, no Tagus sandes to show. 
 But faith & will to native soyle alive & dead I tinde. 
 My hart, ray mind, my love I leaue unto my prince behinde. 
 Farwel you nobles of this land, farwel you judges grave, 
 Farwel my felowes, frcndes & mates, your Queene I say God save. 
 What rise in time in time dolh fall, what floweth in time doth ebbe. 
 What lives in time, in time shall dye and yeelde to Parcas wcbbe. 
 The suune to darknes slial be turud, the starres from skies shall fall. 
 The moone to blood, the world with fire shalbe consumed all. 
 As smoke or vajraur vanish streight, as bubbles rise & fall, 
 As cloudes do passe, or shadow shiftes we live, we dye so all. 
 Our pomp, our pride, our triumph most, our glory great herein. 
 Like shattering shadow passe away, as though none such had bin. 
 Earth, water, ayrc, & fire, as they were earst before, 
 A lump confused and Chaos calld, so shall they once be more. 
 And all to earth, that came from earth, and to the grave descend. 
 For eartli on earth, to earth shall got-, and earth shall be tlie end. 
 As Christ ascended up in clowdes, so Christ in clowdes shall come. 
 To judge both good &: bad on earth, at dreadful day of dome. 
 From whence our flesh shall rise againe, even from the drossy dust. 
 And so shall passe I hope unto the mansion of tliejust. 
 Finis, Lodowick Lloyd. 
 
 Of 
 
96 CJjc paratii0e 
 
 Of a Freend is a Flatterer. 
 
 A trustie freend is rare to finde, a fawning foe may sone be got : 
 A faithful frend bare stil in mind, but fawning foe regard thou not. 
 A faithful! freend no cloke doth crave to colour knavery withal: 
 But Skophant a Gun must have to beare a part what ere befall. 
 
 A nose to smel out every feast, a brasen face to set it out, 
 A shandes child or homely gest, whose life doth like to range about, 
 A fauning foe while wealth doth last, a thefe to rob & spoile his freend. 
 As strong as oke while wealth doth last, but rotten sticke doth prove in 
 
 (the end. 
 
 Looke first, then leape, beware the mire; 
 
 Burnt child is warnd to dread the fire. 
 
 Take heede my freend, remember this. 
 
 Short horse (they say) soone cunied is. 
 
 ley say 
 
 M. Edwards 
 
 If thou desire to live in (juiet rest, 
 Gece eare and see but say the lest. 
 
 If thou delight in quietness of life. 
 Desire to shunne from broles, debate & strife. 
 To live in love with God with freend & foe, 
 In rest shalt sleepe when others cannot so. 
 
 Give eare to all, yet doo not all beleeve. 
 And see the end, and then do sentence geeve: 
 But say for truth of happy lives assinde. 
 The best hath he that quiet is in minde. 
 Finis. M, Hunnis. 
 
 A dialogue between the Auctour and his eye. 
 Auctour. 
 My eye why didst thou light on that which was not thine.' 
 Why hast thou with thy sight thus slaine an hart of mine? 
 O thou unhappie eye, woulde God thou hadst been blinde, 
 When first thou didst her spie for whom this grief I finde. 
 
of Uapiute ticui0c0. 97 
 
 E,je. 
 Why sir it is not I thai do deserve such blame, 
 Your fancie not your eye is causer of the same : 
 For I ara ready prest, as page that serves your ease. 
 To searche what thing is best, that might your fancie please. 
 
 Auctour. 
 I sent thee forth to see, but not so long to bide, 
 Though Fancie went with thee, thou wert my fancie's guide: 
 Thv message being done, thou mightst return againe. 
 So Cupid Venus Sonne no whit my hart should paine. 
 
 Eye. 
 Where fancie beareth swaye, there Cupid will be holde. 
 And reason flies away from Cupid's shaftc of golde: 
 If you finde cause thereby, some deale of painefuU smarte, 
 Alas blame not your eye, but blame consent of harte. 
 
 AuctDiir. 
 My hart must I excuse and lay the fault on thee. 
 Because thy sight did chuse, when hart from thought was free: 
 Thy sight thus brought consent, consent hath bred my grief. 
 And grief bids be content, with sorrow for relief. 
 Finis. M. Hunnis. 
 
 No paines comparalle to his attempt. 
 
 Like as the dolefuU dove delightes alone to bee. 
 And doth refuse the bloumed branci.e, chusing the Icafelesse tree. 
 Whereon wailing his chauncc, with bitter tcares besprent. 
 Doth with his bill his tender breast oft p arse and all to rent. 
 Whose grcevous gronyngs tho' whose gripes of pyning paine. 
 Whose gastly lookes, whose bloudy streamcs cut flowing from each vain. 
 Whose falling from the tree, whose panting on the grounde. 
 Examples bee of myne estate, tho there appeare no vvounde. 
 Finis. iV. Hunnis. 
 
 He repenteth his fully, 
 
 Alacke when I looke backe, upon my youth that's paste, 
 
 And deepely ponder youthe's offence and youthe's reward at laste. 
 
 With sights & teares I say, O God I not denie. 
 
 My youth with follie hath deserved, with follie for to die. 
 
 But yet if ever sinfuU man might mcrcie move to rutbe. 
 
 Good Lord with mercie doc lorgive the follies of my youthe. 
 
 In 
 N 
 
In youth I rangde the feeldes, where vices all did growc. 
 In youth alas I wanted grace, such vice to overthrowe. 
 In youth what I thought sweele, most bitter now do finde. 
 Thus hath the follies of my youth wiili folly kept nie blind. 
 Yet as the egle castes her bill, whereby her age renueth. 
 So Lord with mercy doe forgive the follies of my youth. 
 Finis. M. Hunnis. 
 
 IVritten upon the death of his especiall good friend MaisterJohn Barnalie, 
 who departed this life at Bensted, in the counlie of Southampton, 
 25 January, 15/9, ^tatis~8. 
 
 Mine owne good father thou art gone, thine cares are stopt with clay. 
 Thy gost is fled, thy body dead, thou bearste not what I say. 
 Thy dearest friends may sigh & sobb, thy children cry and call. 
 Thy wife may waile & not prevaile, nor doe thee good at all. 
 Though reason would we should reioyce, and trickling teares restraine. 
 Yet kindlynes, and friendlynes, enforce us to complaine. 
 Thy life was good, our losse the more, thy presence cher'd our hart, 
 Thy lacke and absence turn'd therefore our solace into smart. 
 I found thee both a kindly friend, and friendly father too: 
 Barnabie lacks breath, O cruell death, & couldit thou part us two? 
 But death derides my wofull words, and to my saying saith. 
 Though foolish wight, I did but right, I force nor friend nor faith. 
 The Lord of life & Lord of death my threatening hand did let, 
 Else when that he in cradle lay, I might have claira'd my debt. 
 His corps is clad in cloddes of earth, his soule doth soore on hie. 
 Before the throne of God above, whose servaunt he did die. 
 And thou his frend & she his spouse, and they his children shall 
 Behold the father frend &: mate, whose absence greeves you all. 
 But he nor can, nor will returne to thee, to her, or them. 
 For heaven is his, he lives in blisse, ye dwell with mortall men. 
 Ye dwell in darke & dreadfuU denne, in prison pent are yee, 
 He lives in light, & all delight, from thraldorae franke & free. 
 Wishe not that he should come to you, for then you doe him wrong, 
 But wishe that ye may goe to him, the blessed saintes among. 
 Finis. H. D. 
 Caelum rton solum. 
 
of tiapuric Dcuisie?!, 99 
 
 No joy comparalle to a quiet minde. 
 
 In lotlisome race pursued by slippery life, 
 Whose sugred guile doth glistrriiig joy present : 
 The careful) ghost oppressed so:e with strife, 
 Yeeldcs ghostly grones from painetuU passions sent. 
 The sinfull flesh, that bcares him herein vewe, 
 In steede of life doth dreadfull death pursue. 
 
 The way he seeth by louche of merites grace. 
 Wherein to runne alas he gladly would: 
 But filthy fleshe, his wretched dwelling place. 
 Doth so rebel I at that which doe he should. 
 That silly soule, who feelcs his heavie neede. 
 Can only will but naught performe iu deede. 
 
 The will through grace doth oft desire the good, 
 
 But all in vaine for that the iieshly foe 
 
 Yeeldes forth such fruites as sinncs haih bred in bud. 
 
 And blindly suckes the sapp of deadly woo. 
 
 Esteeming showes of tickell fancies knowen 
 
 And scorning fruite by grace eternall sowen. 
 
 Though eye doth see that death doth swallow all. 
 Both life and lust and every sound delight : 
 Yet wretched fleshe through sinne is made so thrall. 
 That nought it markes apparent ihinges in sight. 
 That might him traine to care of better grace. 
 Both doth his bale with greedy lust imbrace. 
 
 Then sins desert and all things weare away. 
 That nought remaine but fruite of grace or sinne: 
 God build in us <uch conscience as can say. 
 This fruit's not mine but sinne that dwelt me in. 
 For why to sinne I dayly do in sight. 
 That unto Christ I may revive my spright. 
 
 Finis, q. Candish. 
 
100 CSe l^araai^e 
 
 A complaint. 
 
 If Cressed in her gadding moode. 
 Had not gone to the Greekish host. 
 Where she by Dlomede was woode. 
 And wonne from him that lovde her most. 
 She had not fallen to such mischeefe, 
 Nor turned Troylus to such greefe. 
 
 Nor Diomede had not upbrayed, 
 
 To worthy Troy/us Cressed spoyle. 
 
 Nor these two worthies had not frayed. 
 
 So oft ech others fame to toyle: 
 
 If catterwaling Cressed coy 
 
 Had taried with her love in Troy. 
 
 No Troians foe, nor cruell Greike, 
 Had triumphte over her good name. 
 If she had not gone forth to seeke 
 The campe where women winne no fame: 
 ; She had been calde no common Gill, 
 
 If she in Troy had tarryed still. 
 
 She had not knowne the Lazars call. 
 With cuppe & clap her almes to winne: 
 Nor how infective scabbe and scall. 
 Do cloth the Lepre Ladies skinne : 
 She had no such distresse in Troy, 
 But honour, favour, wealth, and ioy. 
 
 Howbeit she could not tarry there, 
 But needes forsooth a gadding go. 
 To feele the tast of straungers chere : 
 Nise novelty lo prickt her so. 
 She could not hold where she was well, 
 But strayed and into ruin fell. 
 
 I pleasure not to blaze her blame 
 Nor chiding cannot mend her mis : 
 But all good women by her shame 
 May learn what catterwaling is. 
 
 For 
 
of Dflinitic GcutjScfS. 101 
 
 For wandring women, most men say. 
 Cannot be good and goe astray. 
 
 It is not women's exercise. 
 To straye or gaddc in field or towne, 
 Men count them neytlier good nor wyse, 
 Tliey blot and blemish their renowne. 
 They hurt their fame, they please their foe. 
 And greeves their friend to see them so. 
 Finis. Trorjlus. 
 
 A Replyc. 
 
 No gadding moode, but forced strife. 
 Compelled me retire from Troy: 
 If Troylus would have vowde his wife. 
 We might have dwelt in former ioy. 
 No Diomedo, nor Greekish wight. 
 Had sought my blame or his despight. 
 
 If ought the feeble force of mine 
 Could have withstood the kingly heast. 
 If flowing fluds of stilled rine. 
 Had pittie found in Troians brest, 
 I had not bene Antenor's prise, ^ 
 Nor thus bene thrall to noted vise. 
 
 The blome of blame had not bine spread. 
 The seede of shame had not bine sowne. 
 If knightly prowes his mind had lead". 
 By rightfuU force to keepe his owne. 
 I had not thralled bine to ill. 
 If he in Troy had kept me still. 
 
 My heavie hart & doleful! case. 
 Which craves your pitie not your spight. 
 Full well you know hath had no place. 
 If he had garded well his right. 
 I see your curtesie small, your store, 
 That blaze my plague to make it more. 
 
 Yoi* 
 
 Nui 
 
102 Cgc paratiige 
 
 You say in Troy I would not bee, 
 With gadding mind you charge me still : 
 When well you know that hie decree 
 Did send me forth against ray will. 
 Sith thus you triumph at my fall, 
 Ye ought to tell the cause withall. 
 
 If nought you joy to blaze ray blame. 
 You woulde not hunt for termes of spight. 
 Nor faine me cause of all the same. 
 Small Iionour wonne in such a fight. 
 For they that noble minded bee, 
 Will rue the case & pittie mee. 
 
 I well allowe your finall clause, 
 
 To gadde & runne doth blot the name. 
 
 But lay the fault unto the cause, 
 
 And graunt him gilthy of the same. 
 
 Who bred the bud that pleased my foe, 
 
 That greeved my friendes & hurt me soe. 
 
 Finn. Cressida. 
 
 That Love is requited by disdaine. 
 
 In searche of things that secret are, my mated muse began. 
 What it might be, molested most the head & minde of man. 
 The bending brow of Prince's face, to wrath that doth attend. 
 Or want of parentes, wyfe or chylde, or losse of faithful) friend. 
 The roring of the cannon shot, that makes the peece to shake. 
 Or terrour, such as mighty Jove from heaven above can make. 
 All these in fine may not compare, experience so doth prove. 
 Unto the tormentes sharpe & straunge, of such as be in love. 
 
 Love lookes alofte, and laughs to scorne all such as greefe anoy, 
 The more extreame their passions be, the greater is his joy. 
 
of ti.nimtic Dcui!Sc0. 103 
 
 Thus Love as Victor of the field, triumphes above the rest. 
 And joyes to see his subjectes lye with living death in brest. 
 But dire disdayne lets drive a shafte, and gaules tliis bragging foole, 
 He pliickes his plumes, unbendes his bowe, and sets him new to scoole : 
 Whereby this boy that bragged late, as conqucrour over all, 
 Nowyeeldes himseitc unto disdayne, his Vassall, Sc his thrall. 
 F!>iis. ir. Hunnis. 
 
 Of a contented slate. 
 
 In welth we see some welthy men, abound in vveltli most welthily. 
 In welth we see those men agayn, in welth do live most wretchedly. 
 
 And yet of wealth having more store, 
 
 Than earst of wealth they had before. (have. 
 
 These wealthy men do seme to wa:it, they seem to w:.nt the most tJiey 
 The more posses, the more they crave, the more they crave the greater 
 
 That most they have, they think but skant, (store. 
 
 Yet not content, wo be therefore. 
 The simple men that lesse welth have, with lesser welth we se content. 
 Content are they twixt welth & scath, a life to leade indifferent. 
 
 And thus of wealth these men have more. 
 
 Than those of which we spoke before. 
 Finis. W. Hunnis. 
 
 Bclhiiicking himsclfe of his end, writeth thus, 
 
 Wiien I behold the baier, my last and posting horse. 
 That bare shall to the grave my vile and carren corse. 
 Then say I seely wretche, why doest thou put thy trust. 
 In things eiche made of clay, that soone will turn to dust? 
 
 Doest thou not sec the yong, the harJy and the fayre. 
 That now are past & gone as though they never were, 
 Doest thou not see thysclfe draw howcrly to thy last. 
 As shaftes which that is shotte at byrdes that fiieth fast? 
 
 Doest thou not see how death through smyteth with his launce. 
 Some by waiTe, some by plague, and some by w^orldly chaunce ? 
 What thing is there on earth, for pleasure that was made. 
 But goeth more sw ift away than doth the Soramer shade ? 
 
 Loc 
 
104 Cfie ^araUigt 
 
 Loe here the Sommer flower, that sprong this other day, 
 But Wynter weareth as fast, and bloweth cleane away : 
 Even so shalt thou consume, frora youth to lotlisome nge. 
 For death be doth not spare the Prince more than the Page. 
 
 Thy house shall be of clay, a clotte under thy head, 
 Untill the latter day the grave shall be thy bed. 
 Untill the blowing tromp doth say to all tV some. 
 Rise up out of your grave, for now the judge is come. 
 Finis. L. Faux. 
 
 A description of the world, 
 
 Wliat is this world, a net to snare the soule, 
 A mas of sinne, a desert of deceite, 
 A momentes joy, an age of wretched dole, 
 A lure from grace, for flesh a lothsome bayte. 
 Unto the mind a canker worm of care, 
 Unsure, unjust in rendring man his share. 
 
 A place where Pride orerunnes the honest mir.de. 
 Where rich men joynes to robbe the shiftlesse wretch. 
 Where bribing mistes doe blinde the judges eyes, 
 Where Parasites the fattest crums do catch. 
 Where good desartes, which chalenge like reward. 
 Are overblowne with Wastes of light regard. 
 
 And what is manne? dust, slime, a puffe of wynde, 
 Conceavde in sinne, plaste in the world with greefe. 
 Brought up with care, till care hath caught his minde, 
 And then till death vouchsafe him <;ome releefe. 
 Day, yea nor night, his care doth take an ende. 
 To gather goods for oth -r men to spende. 
 
 Oh foolish man that art in office plasf, 
 Thinke whence thou cam-.te, and whither thou shalt go 
 The hautchie okes, small windes have overrast. 
 When slender weedes in roughest weather groe. 
 Even so pale death oft spares the wretched wight. 
 And woundeth you who wallow in delight. 
 
of Dfljuttie DcbiGCJJ, 105 
 
 You lusly youlhes that nourish hie desire, 
 
 Abase your plumes, whicli makes you looke so bigge. 
 
 The collyers cut the courtiers stoede will tyre. 
 
 Even so the clarke the Parsons grave doth digge, 
 
 Whoso happe is yet here long lite to winne. 
 
 Doth heape, God wot, but sorrow upon sinne. 
 
 And to be short, all sortes of men take heede. 
 The thunderboltes the lofty towers tare. 
 The lightning flashe consumes the house of reede. 
 Yea more in time all earthly thinges will weare, 
 Save only man, who as his earthly time is, 
 Shall live in woe, or else in endlesse blisse. 
 Finis. G. G. 
 
 Being in love he complaineth. 
 
 My haute desyre, to hye that seeketh rest. 
 My feare to find, where hope my help should give, 
 My sighes and plaintes sent from unquiet brest. 
 The hardned hart that will not truth beleeve, 
 Bids me dispayre, and Reason saith to me. 
 Forsake for shame, the sute that shameth thee. 
 
 But when mine eyes behold the alluring cayes. 
 Which only me to Cupids spoyle have trainde, 
 Desyre anew doth workc his wonted wayes. 
 Thus shall 1 freeze, and yet I frye in paync, 
 O quenchlesse tyre to quayle anil quick agayn. 
 
 Such is the flame, where burning love doth last. 
 
 As hye ne low can bi are with Reasons bitte. 
 
 And such is love, wherein is setled fast. 
 
 That naught but drath can ease his fervent fitte. 
 
 Then cannot I, nor love will me forsake, 
 
 Swcete is the death, that faithfuU love doth make. 
 
 finis. M. Edwardes. 
 
106 CSe pavatiigc 
 
 An E/itaph upon the death of Syr William Drury Knight, Lord Jus- 
 tice and Governour of Yreland, deceased at IFaterford the 
 thyrd of October, An. Do. \5yQ. 
 
 In place where wantes Apollo with his lute. 
 There peevish Pan may prease to pipe a daunce. 
 Where men of skill & learned Clarkes are mute. 
 There fooles may prate, & hit the truth perchaunce. 
 Why spare I then to speake, when all are raumme, 
 And Vertue left forgot in time to come. 
 
 Give pardon then to him that takes in hande, 
 Though never taught with Poets pen to write. 
 Will yet presume, to let you understand. 
 No straunge event, although a sieldome sight. 
 Which late I saw, a dolefuU tale to tell. 
 And followeth thus, then marke how it befell. 
 
 I saw Report in mourning weede arayde. 
 Whose blubbered e)es bewrayed some secret greefe. 
 Besprent with teares, with sighes & sobbes he sayd,' 
 You martiall wights abandone all releefe. 
 Come wayle with me, whose losse is not alone. 
 When you your selves have greatest cause to mone. 
 
 For Brurie he the choyce of all your trayne. 
 
 Your greatest guyde, and lampe of clearest light. 
 
 The only man Bellona did retayne. 
 
 Her chatnpyon chefe, and made Syr Mars his Knight, 
 
 Even he is now bereaved of his breath, 
 
 Tis you, tis you, may most lament his death. 
 
 Then might I see a warlike crew appeare. 
 
 Came marching on with weapons traylde on ground. 
 
 Their outward show bewrayde their inward cheare. 
 
 Their droms & tromps did yeeld a dolefull sound, ' 
 
 They marched thus in sad & solemne sort. 
 
 As men amasde to hear this late report. 
 
 And 
 
of Datuuic DciupciS. 107 
 
 And ill the midst of this their heavy muse, 
 
 I might perceive in sight ;i worthy dame, 
 
 Who by her speed) and tenure ot her newcs, 
 
 I knew her well, and saw [was Lady Fame, 
 
 With tromp in hand, and thus me thought she sed, 
 
 You worthy wights, your Drurie is not dead. 
 
 He liveth he amongst the blessed route. 
 
 Whose noble actes hath purchaste endlesse fame; 
 
 Whylste world doth last, no time shall wear him out. 
 
 Nor death for all his spight abridge his name, 
 
 But Drurie still for euer shall remayne. 
 
 His fame shall live, in Flaunders, Fraunce and Spayne. 
 
 The Germanes eke, Italyans, and tlie rest. 
 
 Can well discourse of Druriis deedes at large. 
 
 With whom he served a champyon ready prest. 
 
 At all assaultes, the formost to give charge. 
 
 In many a fraye, himself he did advaunce, 
 
 Tweene Charles of Rome, and Henric King of Fraunce. 
 
 In vaync to vaunt, the credite he attayn'de. 
 In native soyle, where he was knowue so well, 
 And Brute hath blowne, what glory he hath gaynde. 
 To Scotish land, where they themselves can tell. 
 In Edenbro'jgh he wan there niayden tower. 
 By first assault perforce the Scotishe power. 
 
 But Ireland thou, thou thrice accursed soyle. 
 Thy lucke is ks^e, thy fortune still withstoode. 
 What mischiele m.ire, to worke thy greater spoyle. 
 Then loss of hiiu that meni thee greatest good : 
 Yet canst thou say, Syr Druries noble name 
 In Ireland still shall bide in lasting fame. 
 
 Oii 
 
C6e paratitgr 
 
 Wherefore, you worth)- wightes, leave of to wayle. 
 Your Drurie lives his fame for aye shall last. 
 His vertues byde, though wretched lyfe do fayle. 
 And taking then her tromp she blewe a blast, 
 Which sounded more his praise then 1 can write, 
 Or with roy tongue expresse in order, right. 
 
 Then might I heaie the Souldyers give a shoute. 
 The sounde whereof redounded in the skie. 
 Great joy was made amongst the armed route 
 With streined throtes, then all at once they cry. 
 He lives, he lives, our Drurie is not deed, 
 His vertues rare by Fame shall still be spread. 
 
 In order then themselves they did retire. 
 
 Their weapons vaunst, with ensignes brave displayde: 
 
 What would you more ? Report is made a Iyer, 
 
 Syr Drurie lives, sufficeth what is sayde. 
 
 What though his corpes entombed be in clay. 
 
 His vertues shyne, that never shall decay. 
 
 Fivit post funera virtus. 
 by Barnabe Ritcke, Gent. 
 
 [Additions 
 
of i)njiiitic DPui!Je0, 10.9 
 
 [Addilinni from the edition of 160:.] 
 
 N" 23. Golden Precepts. 
 
 ?;rhaps you thinke me bold that dare presume to teach. 
 As one that runnes beyond his race, & rowes beyond his reach : 
 Sometime tlie blinde doe goe where perfect sights doo fall. 
 The simple may sometimes instruct the wisest heads of all. 
 
 If needfuU notes I give' that unto vertue lende, 
 
 Metliinks you should of rights vouchsafe your listening eares to lend; 
 
 A wiietstone cannot cut, yet sharpen it well we see. 
 
 And I though blunt may whet your wit, if you attentive be. 
 
 First these among the rest I wish you warely heede, 
 
 That God be served, your prince obey'd, & friends releev'd at need : 
 
 Then looke to honest thrift both what and how to have. 
 
 At night examine so the day, that bed be thought a grave. 
 
 Seeke not for others goods, be just in word & deed. 
 
 For got with shifts are spent with shame, believe this as thycreede: 
 
 Boast not of nature's gifts, nor yet of Parent's name. 
 
 For vertue is the onclic meane to win a worthy fame. 
 
 Ere thou dost promise make, consider well the end. 
 But promise past be sure thou keep, both with thy foe & friend: 
 Threat not revenge too much, it shewcs a Craven's kinde. 
 But to prevaile, & then forgive, declares a noble mindc. 
 
 Forget no friendship's debt, wish to requite at least. 
 
 For God & man, yea all the world, condemnes the ungrateful beast. 
 
 AVeare not a friendly face witli hart of Judas kisse. 
 
 It shewcs a base & vile conccitc, Sc not where valure is. 
 
 Fly from a fanning Hurt, & from a cogging mate, (hate. 
 
 Their love breeds losse, their praise reproch, their friendshippe breedes but 
 Seeke not to loose by wiles that law & ductie bindcs. 
 They be but helpes of Banckrouts heads, & not of honest mindes. 
 
 The motions of the flesh, and choler's heate restrainc, 
 
 For heapes of harmes doo daily hap, where lust or rage doth raigne: 
 
 In diet, deede 8: woordi-s, a modest meane is best. 
 
 Enough sufBseth for a feast, but riot findes no rest. 
 
 And 
 Oiii 
 
1 10 <!L\)t paratsise 
 
 And so, to make an end, let this be borne away, 
 
 That veitue alwayes be thy guide, so shall thou never stray. 
 
 Finis. A. Bourcher. 
 
 24. In prayse of the snaylc. 
 
 The deepe turmoiled wight, that lives devoid of eas?. 
 
 Whose wayward wits are often found more wavering than the sem. 
 
 Seeks sweete repose abroad, and takes delight to roam, 
 
 Where reason leaves the snales for rule, to keep a quiet home. 
 
 Leap not before you looke, least harme thy hope assaile 
 
 Haste haverk makes in hurtful] wise, wherefore be slow as snaile. 
 
 Refraine from rash attempt, let lake heede by thy skill 
 
 Let Wisdom bridle brainsicke wit, and leysure worke tliy will. 
 
 Dame Reason bids, I say, in things of doubt be slacke. 
 
 Lest rashness purchase thee the wrong that wisdome wils as lacke 
 
 By rashness divers have been deadly ouerconie. 
 
 By kindly creeping on like Snaile, Duke Fade his fame hath wonne. 
 
 Though some as swifte as hawkes can stoope to every stale. 
 
 Yet I refuse such sudden flight, and will seem slow as snaile : 
 
 Wherfore my pretty Snaile be still, and lay thee warme. 
 
 Save envious frets,mauger their fumes, there's few shall doo thee harme. 
 
 Because in some respects thou holds me to be wise, 
 
 1 place thee for a President, and sign before mine eyes : 
 
 \\ as never any yet that harme in thee could find. 
 
 Or dare avow that ever snaile wrought hurt to human kind. 
 
 I know Dame Phisick doth thy friendly helpe implore. 
 
 And craves the salve from thee ensues to cure the erased sore : 
 
 Sith Phisick then allows the venues in degree. 
 
 In spight of spight I wear thee still that well contenteth me. 
 
 Finis. 
 
of Dr.tmtic ticuisscs. 
 
 A young gentleman ivilling to Iravaile into for raine parts be. 
 to stay in England: who wrote as followeth. 
 
 Who seeks the way to win rcnowne. 
 Or flccth with wings of high desire. 
 Who seeks the way to win rcnowne, 
 Or hath the mind that would aspire. 
 Let him his native soil eschewe 
 Let hira goe range and sceke anew. 
 
 Each haughty heart is well content 
 With every chance that shall betide. 
 No hap can hinder his intent, 
 He stedftst stands though Fortune slide : 
 The Sunne, sayetli he, doth shine as well 
 Abroad, as erst where I did dwell. 
 
 In change of streames each fish can live. 
 Each fowl content with every ayre. 
 The noble minds each where can thrive, 
 And not be drowned in deepe despaire: 
 Wherefore I judge all lands alike 
 To haughty hearts that Fortune seeke. 
 
 To tosse on seas some think a toyle. 
 Some think it strange abroad to rome. 
 Some think it greef to leevc their soyle, 
 Their Parents, kindsfolks, & their home : 
 Think who so list, I like it not 
 I must abroade to try my lot. 
 
 Who list at home at cart to drudge. 
 And carke & care for worldly trash. 
 With buckled shoe let him go trudge, 
 Instead of launce a whip to swash : 
 A mind that's base himself will show 
 A carrion sweet to feed the crow. 
 
 ■ entreated 
 
112 €f)t pncaDise 
 
 If Jason of that mind had been, 
 Or wandring Prince that came from Greec 
 The golden fleece had been to winne, 
 And Priam's Troy had been in blisse; 
 Though dead in deed & clad in clay 
 Their worthy fame will ne'er decay. 
 
 The worthies nine that were of might 
 By travaile wonne immortal praise 
 If they had lived like carpet-knights. 
 Consuming idly all their dayes. 
 
 Their praises had been with them dcid 
 
 Where now abroad their fame is spred. 
 
 Finis. 
 
 A u'iltie y pleasant conceit. 
 What fonde delight, what fancies strange. 
 What deepe dispight, what suddaine change. 
 What stilling greefe, what deepe debates 
 Do runne so rife in doltish pates! 
 
 Who viewes & sees & takes no heede^ 
 Who seekes degrees & cannot speede. 
 Instead of joyes shall reape such woes. 
 As breed annoyes twixt freends & foes. 
 
 Who wiving wants, & lives alone. 
 When thriving, scants is overthrown ; 
 Who seeks to thrive & finds no way. 
 May chance to strive & mar the play. 
 
 Who spends his wealth & winnes the wine. 
 Doth hurt himself & help tlie swine. 
 Who haunts the house where ale is sold. 
 May gaine a crust, & lose his gold. 
 
 Who spinnes by spight, & reels by woe. 
 Who takes delight in roling so. 
 Doth dubb himself a drowsy head 
 And brings a drowsie foole to bed. 
 
of tiapmie &cui0c0. 
 
 Who rides aloft and cannot rule 
 Who sits not soft and keeps his stoole, 
 Doih both content themselves with wrong, 
 But wise men will not use it long. 
 
 Finis. J. H. 
 
 Maister Edwards his " I may not." 
 
 In May by kinde Dame Nature wills all earthly wights to sing, 
 In May the new and coupled fowls may joy the lively spring. 
 In -May the Nightingale her notes dotli warble on the spray. 
 In May the birdi tlieir mossie nests do tiinber as they may. 
 In May the swift and turning Hart her bagged belly slakes. 
 In May the little sucking Wattes do play with tender flaxe. 
 All creatures may in May be glad, no May can me remove, 
 I sorrow in May since I may not in May obtain my love. 
 
 The stately Hart in May doth mue his old and palmed beames, 
 His state rcnewes in May, he leaps to view Apollo's strcanies^ 
 In May the Buck his horned tops doth hang vpon the pale. 
 In May he seekes the pastures greene in ranging over the dale. 
 In May the oglie speckled snake doth cast her loathsome skinnc. 
 In May the better that he may increase the scalie kinne. 
 All things in' May I see they may rejoice like Turtle Dove, 
 I sorrow in May since I may not in May obtain ray love. 
 
 Now may I mourn in fruitful May who may or can redrcsse. 
 My May is sorrow since she that may withholds my May afresh. 
 Thus must I play in pleasant May till I may May at will 
 With her in May, whose May my life now inay both save and spill. 
 Contented hearts that have your ho))e, in May you may at large 
 Unfold your joys, expell your cares, and maske in pleasure's Barge, 
 Save I alone in May that may lament for my behove, 
 I mournc in May till that I may in May obtain my love. 
 
 Finis. 
 
1 14 CBc |9avatiise 
 
 The complaint of a sorrowful soul. 
 
 O soveraigne salve of sin who doost my soul behold, 
 
 That seekes her self from tangling faults by striving to unfold. 
 
 What plea shall I pat in when thou dost summons send 
 
 lo judge the people of the earth and give the world an end 
 
 When every deed and word, yea, eveiy secret thought, 
 
 In open view of all the world shall unto light be brought. 
 
 So many judges shall against me sentence give. 
 
 As by example of good works hath taught how I should live : 
 
 So many pleaders shall confound my careful case. 
 
 As have in one by sound advice sought to engraft by grace : 
 
 So many shall that time against me witnesse beare. 
 
 As have beheld my fruitlesse faith and saw my sinnes appeare. 
 
 Whereon whiles I do muse on my amazed mind, 
 
 Froward thoughts familiar foes most fierce assaults I finde. 
 
 My conscience to my face doth flatly me accuse. 
 
 My secret thoughts within my eares did whisper still these newes. 
 
 Mine avarice and bribery my pride doth brag me down. 
 
 Mine Envy frets me like a file at other folks' renown. 
 
 Concupiscence inflames, and lusts my limbs infect, 
 
 My meat doth burtJien, and my drinke my weakeness dooth detect. 
 
 My slaunders rend my fame, ambition dooth supplant. 
 
 My greedinesse is not content but makes me waite for want. 
 
 My mirth but flattery is, my sorrowes are unkinde, 
 
 Sith pleasures ronne me out of breathe, and greefes suppresse my mindc. 
 
 Behold my God whose might may me a freeman mpke. 
 
 These were my friends whose counsels curst I was content to take. 
 
 These were the lawless lords whom I did serve alway. 
 
 These were the Maisters whose mad bests I did too much obey. 
 
 Behold my faults most foul which folly first did frame. 
 
 In loving them I should have loathed, whence breedtth all my bane. 
 
 Now doo I look aloft with bashful blushing face 
 
 On glory thine, that so I may discern my owne disgrace : 
 
 My many spots and great must needs encrease my guilt. 
 
 Unless thou wash them iu thy blood that for my sake was spilt. 
 
 Forgive 
 
of tjapntit tjcuisjc?, lis 
 
 Forgive the faults O Lord wliicli I from hart repent, 
 
 And grant my days to come may be in thy sweet service spent. 
 
 Fhiis. J liayivood. 
 
 Alluding liis stale to the prodigal chihL 
 
 The wandering youth whose race so rashly runne 
 
 Hath left behind to his eternal shame 
 
 The thriftless title of the prodigal sonnc, 
 
 To quench remembrance of his other name 
 
 May DOW divide the burthen of his blame 
 
 With me, whom wretchlesse thoughts enticed still 
 
 To tread the tract of his unruly will. 
 
 He tooke his child's part at his father's hands. 
 Of Gods tree grace iiis gifts I did receive, 
 He travailed farre.in many forraine lands, 
 My restless minde would never ranging leave. 
 False queanes did him of all his coine bereave. 
 Fond fancies stutf 'd my braine with such abuse. 
 That no good hap could seeke to any use. 
 
 They drave him out when all his pence was spent, 
 
 My lusts left me when strength witjj age was worne. 
 
 He was full faine a farmer's hogs to tend. 
 
 My life misled did reape deserved scorne. 
 
 Through hunger huge wherewith his trips were torne. 
 
 He w isbt for swads, even so wisht I most vainc 
 
 In fruitlesse pleasure fondly to remaine. 
 
 Now to come home with him and pardon pray. 
 My God I say against the haivens and thee 
 I am not worthy that my lips should say. 
 Behold thy handy worke and pity me : 
 Of mercy yet my soulc from faults set free, 
 To serve thee here, till thou appoint the time 
 Through Christ unto thy blessed joyes to clime. 
 Finis. J, Haywood. 
 
[ "6 ] 
 
 [_Copy nf the title of edition 16OO] 
 
 The 
 Paradice 
 of Daintie Deuices. 
 Contayning many pithy precepts, learned Coun- 
 sayles and excellent inuentions : right pleasant and 
 profitable for all estates. 
 Deuised and written for tlie most parte by 
 M. Edwards — sometime of her Maiesties Chappell: the rest by 
 sundry Gentlemen both of Honour, and Wor- 
 ship whose names hereafter ■ 
 followe. 
 Whereunto is added sundry new inuentions, 
 very pleasant and delightful!. 
 
 At London 
 
 Printed for Edward White, and are to be 
 
 sold at his Shop at the little North docre 
 
 of Paules Church, at the signe of 
 
 the Gunne. 
 
 IB^icl of the Title'] 
 
 The names of those who wrote 
 these Deuises 
 
 C Saint Barnard. ") /-Jasper Haywood. -n 
 
 3 E. O. f J F. Kindlemarsh. I 
 
 ") Lord Vaux, the elder. C "S D. Sand. f 
 
 (.W. Hunnis. } Lm. Yloope. J 
 
 \_Colophon] 
 
 At London 
 
 Printed for Edward White, dwelling at the 
 
 little North doore of Paules Church, at the signe 
 
 of the Gunne 
 
 1600. 
 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX. 
 
 A Croune of Baycs shall that man wcare 70 
 
 Alacke when I looke backc, upon my youth that's paste 5,7 
 
 All morUill men this day reioyce 5 
 
 Although the purple morning braggcsin brightnes of the su:mc 37 
 
 Amid the vale the slender shrubbe is hia from all mishap 9 i 
 
 A trustic frecnd is rare to finde, a fawning foe may sone be got •^'i 
 
 Behold the blast which blmves the blossomrs from the trc- i 
 
 Beware of had I wyst, whose fine bringes care and smart A i ii 
 
 By painted woordcs the silly simple man 13 
 
 Come, holy ghost, eternall Go<!, and ease the wofuU greefe 6 
 
 Eche one deserurs great praise to haue, but yet not Ike I tliink ^g 
 
 Enforst by !oue and feati; to please and not offende }; ^ 
 
 Even as the Raucn, the Crowe, and gre(:<lic Kite, E i.ii 30 
 
 Even as the waxc doeth melt, or dewc comume awaie 77 
 
 Forlorn in filthy frowjrd fate, wherein a thousand sarcs I finde ; i 
 
 Fraud is the front of Fortu e past all recoverie ;+ 
 
 From Virgin's vvombe this day <lyd spring 4 
 
 How can the tree but wast and wither awaie 6+ 
 
 I am a Virgine f aire and free, and freely doc reioyi - 37 
 
 I am not as seme to bei 76 
 
 Ifc^reor sliill, could cor.quere vaine desire 74 
 
 If Cresscd in her gadding moodc. lOO 
 
 If cuer man had lone to dtwly bought 73 
 
 If frcndlessc falthc, if gilllessc thought mav shield 7y 
 
 If Fortune be thy sny, thy state is very tickle 8 
 
 If Fortune may enforce the careful! hart to cry 38E.i 
 
 If nature beare thee so great loue, as shec in thee have bc.utic plast 51 
 
 If pleasures b-- in painefulneisc, in plciiures doth my body lest ;o 
 
 If thou delight in quietness of liie 96 
 
 If thou in surctie safe wilt sitt X5 
 
 If y<. eche flower the godds haue framed ate shapt by sacred skill j i 
 
 I hjuc no ioye, but dreame of ioyc, and ioyc to think on ioyc C,S 
 
 In choisc of iVendj what happy had l,to chuse one of Cirenei kinde 65 
 
 In cuery wight some sondrie sort of pleasure I dne finde ;S 
 
 In frcendcs arc foundc a heape of doubtes, that double dealing use lo 
 
 In goyng to my naked Ucddc, as one that would haue slept 4; 
 
 Iji ho|)e the Shjpman hoiiCtb saile, in h )pe of passage good 57 
 
L "S ] 
 
 In lothsome race pursued by slippery life 99 
 
 III May by kinde Dame Nature wills all eartbly wights to sing 113 
 
 In my accompt, ihe promise that is vowed 9 
 
 In place where wantcs Apollo with his lute 106 
 
 In quest of my reliefe 1 fiiide distresse 72 
 
 In seaiche of things that secret arc my mate;! muse began 102 
 
 In terrours trapp with thraldome thrust ^4 
 
 In welth we sees^nie welthy man, abound in weltit mostwekhily lOj 
 
 In wretched state, alas, I rewe my life 86 
 
 In youtllfull yeercs when tyrst my yo\ing desyres began 2 
 
 In youth when I at large did leade, my life in lustie libertie 2 i 
 
 I rage in restless- ruthe and ruins rule my dales SS 
 
 I read a maying rime of late delighted muth my eare 92 
 
 1 sigh ! why so ? fur sorrowe of her smart „ 3 1 , E lii 
 
 I w.uld it were not as I thinke, I would it weie no; so 56 
 
 I would to God I were Actcon that Diana did disguise 4* 
 
 Let rulers make most perfect lawes, to rule both great ami smal 50 
 
 Like .IS the doleful! dove, delightcs alone to bee 97 
 
 Like as the Harie thar liTteth up his eares Si 
 
 Lo heare the man that must of loue complains 71 
 
 Mine owne good father thou art gone, thine eares are stopt with clay 98 
 
 Mi trust mi^demts amisse whereby displeasure growes 82 
 
 Mistrust not t'Oth, that truely raeanes, for eueiy ielous freke ,. . . . z} 
 
 My eye why didst thou light on that which was not thine 96 
 
 My freend, yfthou wylt crcdite me in ought <> 
 
 My haute desyie, to hye that seketh rest 105 
 
 My meanyng is to worke what wondes loue hath wrought 78 
 
 No gadding moode, but forced strife 10 1 
 
 Not atayed state, but feeble stay A ilij 
 
 O Heauenly God 1 O Father dere ! cast doune thy tender eye S 7 
 
 O soveraigne salve of sin who doost my soul behold 114 
 
 Perhaps you thinke me bold that dare presume to teach I eg 
 
 Policrates whose passing happe causd him to lose his fate J4 
 
 Shall I nowaie winne you, to graunt my desire 6j 
 
 Shall rigor raigne wheie youth hath ron, shall fansie now forsake J9 
 
 Sith this our time of Freendship is so scant 16 
 
 Sweet were the ioyes, that both might like and last A iiij 
 
 The bitter sweate that straines my yelded harte 8; 
 
 The Cony in his caue the Feiet doth anoye 56 
 
 The day delayed, of that I most doo wishe 10 
 
 The deepe tuimoiled wight, that lives devoid of ease 1 10 
 
 The faith that failes, must nedes be thought untrue 41 
 
 The fire shall freese, the frost shall frie, the fi-ozen mountains hie 62 
 
 The hidden woes that swelleth in my hart 31 
 
 The higher that the Cedar tree under the heauens doe growe 79 
 
 The life is long, which lothsomely doeth laste 43 
 
 The liuely larke did stretche her wyng 69 
 
 The mountaines hie whose loftie topps doeth mecte the hautie sky 58 
 
 The 
 
[ i>9 ] 
 
 The poorc that liuc hi needie rate 
 
 The sjimt I serve and have besought lull oft 
 
 The SGylini; ships with ioy at len^hl, do touchc th» long desiieJ pen 
 
 Thi- spii^er with gicuts skill doeth trauell dale by djie 
 
 The sturdy Rocke, for all hts strength 
 
 The subtill slily sleights, that worldly men doe woiks 
 
 The tricklyng tcires that falcs along my checks 
 
 The wandering youth whose race so rashly runne 
 
 The wrong is groat, the painc abuuc my power 
 
 To be as wyse as Cato was 
 
 To counsjll my eitate abandond^ to the spoile 
 
 To die. Dame Nature did man frame 
 
 To seeme for to rcucnge cache wiong \i\ hastic wise 
 
 We reade what paines the powers dcv'.ne 
 
 What death male be compared to loue 6? 
 
 What dome is this, I fiiine would kiiowc 
 
 What fonde delight, what fancies strange 
 
 What greeucs my bones and makes my body taint 3 
 
 What is this woi Id a net to sn ire the souls 1 04 
 
 What waiche, what wo, what want, what wracke 63 
 
 When all is doen and said, in the cndc thus shall you findc 80 
 
 When first mine eyes did vew & marke thy beutie faire for to behold 57' 
 
 When I Ijehold the baier, my last and posting horse 103 
 
 When I lookcbacke, and in mysclfe behold 11 
 
 When May is in his prime, then May eche hart reioyce , i 
 
 When sage Vlissf s sailed by 55 
 
 Where gripyng grici the hart would wound & dolfuU domps them oppiesse 55 
 
 Where sethyng sighs, and sower sobbes 44 
 
 Who shall profoundly way or scan the assured state of man 54 
 
 Who seeks the way to win renownc Ill 
 
 Who so doth marke the carelesse life of these unhappie dayes 2; 
 
 Who so is set in princely tronc, and craueth rule to bearc 47 
 
 Who so will be accompted wise, and truely claime the same 26 
 
 Why art thou bound, and niaist goe free 18 
 
 Why dooth cache state apply it sel.c to worldly prayse A iij 
 
 Why should I longer long to liuc 46 
 
 With painted spcaohe I list not proue my cunnyng for to uie 61 
 
 Ye stately wigbtes that liuc in quiet rest 27 
 
 You Muses weare your mourning weeds, strike on the fatal drome 93. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
CORRECTIONS. 
 
 14. 1. 2. — to -vnto 
 
 15. 1.24. — ficis flees 
 
 16. 1. 6. — he be 
 
 19. 1.32. — streme ftieame 
 
 20. 1. 1«. — rout rfout 
 
 21. 1. 6. — be me 
 
 23. 1. 32. dele is 
 
 24. 1. 8. read my wit, my head my voice. 
 
 ■25. 1. IS for aduanct read adiiaunirf. 
 
 afi. Entitle " who so will, &c." — 19. Of perfect wisedome. 
 
 3S. 1. 1. read Death hath in all the earth aright. 
 
 37. (Ej) Entitle " Although the purple morning, ic." — 3g. All thinges ;:r yUine. 
 1. 35. for cuttely read curtesk 
 
 38. (Eij) 1. 6. 
 
 read " and so mus die." 
 
 1.17. 
 
 for yeeleds read yeeldes. 
 
 3-2. (Eiii) 1. 4. 
 
 — store sore 
 
 1. 32. 
 
 — The crafty Koxe She crafty Foxe. 
 
 33. (Eiiii)l. 8. 
 
 — loue sute 
 
 30. (Eiiiijl. 14. 
 
 — araissas araissus (which is an evident press 
 
 
 error of the original.) 
 
 4>. 1. 8. — rcdintigratio redintigratic (another press error of 
 
 the original.)* 
 
 48. 1. S. — heed head 
 
 1. 14. — heires httres 
 
 4<5, 1, 1. — florise iioris/ie 
 
 1. 3. read " And said that he full long enough." 
 4 9. 1. 2 for sat, read seate 
 
 50. 1. 12. read " to rule both great & small 
 
 51. 1.11. for as read y 
 1. 28. — The She 
 
 5S. 1. ;'0. — chifest chiefest. 
 
 63. 1.18. read " As men doe I'se so .some women «ae." 
 
 65. 1.17. for tresure read Treasure 
 
 !.,j. _ no not 
 
 68. 1. 4. read " She thinks thou." 
 
 7.1. 1.29. " That demeth all by contraries."' 
 
 77. 1.28. for thus read this 
 
 79. 1. 6- read " Then Tnaie my plaint" 
 
 1.18. for amonjs reed cmongs 
 SO. 1.29. read " Our wealth leaues vs at death." 
 
 84. l.ifi. for cast read rait 
 
 85. 1.19. — wanted wantcrt 
 
 [The allu'ion by Mr. Steevens fsee advertisement) to the variation that the com- 
 mon " habits of orthosraphy" might produce, was not without reason. Upon col- 
 lating the preceding pages with a printed copy of 15/6, (which 1 have lately been 
 favQvired with a loan ot) it appears ihe adopting j fori, omitting the superfluous e, 
 and reversing v and u ; has " occasionally" been adopced by the transcriber. As 
 those variations do not alter the sense, the minutely pointing them out has been 
 omitted. Errors are too common in every tr^msciipt, and the indulgence of the reader 
 is trespassed upon with the abo\e list, which also includes a few that escaped obser- 
 vation while passing through the press. J. H. Dec. 10, isoo.] 
 
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