¶ A hundredth sundry Flowers bound up in one small Poesy. Gathered partly (by translation) in the fine outlandish Gardens of Euripides, Ovid, Petrarke, Ariosto, and others: and partly by invention, out of our own fruitful Orchards in England: Yielding sundry sweet savours of Tragical, Comical, and Moral Discourses, both pleasant and profitable to the well smelling noses of learned Readers. Meritum petere, grave. AT LONDON, Imprinted for Richard Smith. The contents of this Book. FIrst an excellent and pleasant Comedy entitled Supposes. The second, the woeful tragedy of jocasta, containing the utter subversion of Thebes. 73. Thirdly, a pleasant discourse of the adventures of master. F. I containing excellent letters, sonnets, Lays, Ballets, Rondlets, Verlayes and verses. 201. Fourthly, divers excellent devises of sundry Gentlemen. 294. Fiftly, certain devises of master Gascoigne, containing his anothamie, his arrignement, his praise of mistress Bridges now Lady Sands, them his praise of Zouch late the Lady Grey of Wilton. 344. 345. 346. 347. 348. Gascoigne his passion. 349. Gascoines libel of divorce. 351. Gascoines praise of his mistress 352. Gascoines Lullaby. 353. Gascoines Recantation. 355. Gascoyne's five notable devises upon five sundry themes given to him by five sundry Gentlemen in five sundry metres. 365. Gascoines gloze upon Dominus ijs 〈◊〉 haber. 365. Gascoines good morrow. 368. Gascoines good night. 371. Gascoines council to Douglas dive. ●●5. Gascoines counsel to Bartholomew Wythipole. 376. Gascoines Epitaph upon Captain Bourcher lately slain in Zelande, called the tale of the stone. 381. Gascoines devise of a mask. 383 Gascoines wodmanship. 394▪ Gascoines gardening. 399. Gascoines last voyage into Holland in March. 401. 1572. Lastly the dolorous discourse of Dan Bartholomew of Bath, wherein is contained his triumphs, his discourse of love, his extreme passion, his libel of request to Care, his last will and testament, his farewell. 412. Last of all the reporter. The Printer to the Reader. IT hath been an old saying, that whiles two dogs do strive for a bone, the third may come and carry it away. And this proverb may (as I fear) be well verified in me which take in hand the imprinting of this poetical Poesy. For the case seems doubtful, and I will disclose my conjecture. Master. H. W. in the beginning of this work, hath in his letter (written to the Readers) cunningly discharged himself of any such misliking, as the graver sort of grey heard judgers might (perhaps) conceive in the publication of these pleasant Pamphlets. And next unto that learned preamble, the letter of. G. T. (by whom as seems, the first copy hereof was unto the same. H. W. delivered, doth with not less clerkly cunning seek to persuade the readers, that he (also) would by not means have it published. Now I fear very much (all these words notwithstanding) that these two gentlemen were of one assent compact to have it imprinted: And yet, finding by experience that nothing is so well handled nowadays, but that some malicious minds may either take occasion to mislike it themselves, or else find means to make it odious unto others: They have therefore (each of them) politicly prevented the danger of misreport, and suffered me the poor Printer to run away with the palm of so perilous a victory. Notwithstanding, having well perused the work, I found nothing therein amiss (to my judgement) unless it be two or three wanton places passed over in the discourse of an amorous enterprise: The which for as much as the words are cleanly (although the thing meant be somewhat natural) I have thought good also to let them pass as they came to me, and the rather because (as master. H. W. hath well alleged in his letter to the Reader) the well minded man may reap some commodity out of the most frivolous works that are written. And as the venomous spider will suck poison out of the most wholesome herb, and the industrious Bee can gather honey out of the most stinking weed: Even so the discrete reader may take a happy example by the most lascivious histories, although the captious and harebrained heads can neither be encoraged by the good, nor forewarned by the bad. And thus much I have thought good to say in excuse of some savours, which may perchance smell unpleasantly to some noses, in some part of this poetical poesy. Now it hath with this fault a greater commodity than common poesies have been accustomed to present, and that is this, you shall not be constrained to smell of the flowers therein contained all at once, neither yet to take them up in such order as they are sorted: But you may take any one flower by itself, and if that smell not so pleasantly as you would wish, I doubt not yet but you may found some other which may supply the defects thereof. As thus, he which would have good moral lessons clerkly handled, let him smell to the Tragedy translated out of Euripides. He that would laugh at a pretty conceit closely conveyed, let him peruse the comedy translated out of Ariosto. He that would take example by the unlawful affections of a lover bestowed upon an unconstant dame, let them read the report in verse, made by Dan Bartholomew of Bath, or the discourse in prose of the adventures passed by master F. I whom the reader may name Freeman jones, for the better understanding of the same: he that would see any particular pang of love lively displayed, may here approve every Pamphlet by the title, and so remain contented. As also divers godly hymns and Psalms may in like manner be found in this record. To conclude, the work is so universal, as either in one place or other, any man's mind may therewith be satisfied. The which I adventure (under pretext of this promise) to present unto all indifferent eyes as followeth. Faults escaped. correction. Folio.     17 line 7 passed a while read paused a while 25 line 29 haltersack read haltersack 30 line 4 comfort read consort Ib●den. line 15 endue read endow 32 line 31 been read lyen 33 line last, servant read fellow 35 line 3 now read you 65 line 33 town read house 66 line 18 you read your 86 line 23 whether read if 106 line 2 should read should guard 119 line 29 out read one 128 line 4 life read leaf 145 line 15 redoubted read redoubled 163 line 13 stain read strain Ibidem. line 30 leave read lead 206 line 1 frowardness read forwardness 211 line 23 caught read couched 212 line 19 wings read twigs 221 line 18 she read he 245 line 30 peers read pearls 267 line 34 nephew read renew 271 line 16 encourage read enrage 277 line 23 pleasure read displeasure 296 line 24 flyttring read flytting 348 for Lord Grace read Lady Grace 352 line 19 Dame read Dan 369 line 14 darksome storms read darksomnesse 374 line 29 domy douglase read Doughty Douglasse 375 line 25 crease read crest Ibidem. line 34 money read muse Printed by Henry Bynneman for Richard Smith. A discourse of the adventures passed by Master F. I H. W. to the Reader. IN August last passed my familiar friend Master G. T. bestowed upon me the reading of a written Book, wherein he had collected divers discourses & verses, invented upon sundry occasions, by sundry gentlemen (in mine opinion) right commendable for their capacity. And herewithal my said friend charged me, that I should use them only for mine own particular commodity, and eftsoons safely deliver the original copy to him again, wherein I must confess myself but half a merchant, for the copy unt● him I have safely redelivered. But the work (for I thought it worthy to be publilished) I have entreated my friend A. B. to emprint: as one that thought better to please a number by common commodity than to feed the humour of any private parson by needless singularity. This I have adventured, for thy contentation (learned Reader.) And further have presumed of myself to christen it by the name of A hundredth sundry Flowers: In which poetical posy are set forth many trifling fantasies, humorall passions, and strange affects of a Lover. And therein (although the wiser sort would turn over the leaf as a thing altogether fruitless) yet I myself have reaped this commodity, to sit and smile at the fond devises of such as have enchayned themselves in the golden fetters of fantasy, and having bewrayed them selves to the whole world, do yet conjecture that they walk unseen in a net. Some other things you may also find in this Book, which are as void of vanity, as the first are lame for government. And I must confess that (what to laugh at the one, & what to learn by the other) I have contrary to the charged of my said friend G. T. procured for these trifles this day of publication. Whereat if the authors only repine, and the number of other learned minds be thankful: I may than boast to have gained a bushel of good will, in exchange for one pint of peevish choler. But if it fall out contrary to expectation that the reader's judgements agree not with mine opinion in their commendations, I may than (unless their courtesies supply my want of discretion) with loss of some labour, account also the loss of my familiar friends, in doubt whereof, I cover all our names, and refer you to the well written letter of my friend G. T. next following, whereby you may more at large consider of these occasions. And so I commend the praise of other man's travails together with the pardon of mine own rashness, unto the well willing minds of discrete readers. From my lodging near the Strande the xx. of january. 1572. H. W. The letter of G. T. to his very friend H. W. concerning this work. Remembering the late conference passed between us in my lodging, and how you seemed to esteem some Pamphlets, which I did there show unto you far above their worth in skill, I do straightwaye conclude the same your judgement to proceed of two especial causes, one (and principal) the steadfast good will, which you have ever hitherto sithens our first familiarity born towards me. An other (of not less weight) the exceeding zeal and favour that you bear to good letters. The which (I agree with you) do not less bloom and appear in pleasant ditties or compendious Sonnets, devised by green youthful capacities, than they do fruitfully flourish unto perfection in the riper works of grave and grayheared writers. For as in the last, the younger sort may make a mirror of perfect life: so in the first, the most frosty bearded Philosopher, may take just occasion of honest recreation, not altogether without wholesome lessons, tending to the reformation of manners. For who doubteth but that Poets in their most feigned fables and imaginations, have metaphorically set forth unto us the right rewards of virtues, and the due punnishments for vices? Marry in deed I may not compare Pamphlets unto Poems, neither yet may justly advant for our native countrymen, that they have in their verses hitherto (translations excepted) delivered unto us any such notable volume, as have been by Poets of antiquity, left unto the posterity. And the more pity, that among so many toward wits not one hath been hitherto encouraged to follow the trace of that worthy and famous Knight Sir Geffrey Chaucer, and after many pretty devises spent in youth, for the obtaining a worthless victory, might consume and consummate his age in describing the right pathway to perfect felicity, with the due preservation of the same. The which although some may judge over grave a subject to be handled in stile metrical, yet for that I have found in the verses of eloquent Latinists, learned Greeks, & pleasant Italians▪ sundry directions, whereby a man may be guided toward thattaining of that unspeakable treasure, I have thus far lamented, that our countrymen, have choose rather to win a passover praise by the wanton penning of a few loving lays, than to gain immortal fame, by the Clarkely handling of so profitable a Theme. For if quickness of invention, proper vocables, apt Epythetes, and store of monasillables may help a pleasant brain to be crowned with Laurel. I doubt not but both our countrymen & country language might be entronised among the old foreleaders unto the mount Helicon. But now let me return to my first purpose, for I have wandered somewhat beside the path, and yet not clean out of the way. I have thought good (I say) to present you with this written book, wherein you shall found a number of Sonnets▪ lays, letters, Ballads, Rondlets, verlayes and verses, the works of your friend and mine Master F. I and divers others, the which when I had with long travail confusedly gathered together, I thought it than Opere precium, to reduce them into some good order. The which I have done according to my barren skill in this written Book, commending it unto you to read and to peruse, and desiring you as I only do adventure thus to participate the sight thereof unto your former good will, even so that you will by not means make the same common: but after your own recreation taken therein that you will safely redeliver unto me the original copy. For otherwise I shall not only provoke all the authors to be offended with me, but further shall lose the opportunity of a greater matter, half and more granted unto me already, by the willing consent of one of them. And to be plain (with you my friend) he hath written (which as far as I can learn) did never yet come to the reading or perusing of any man but himself: two notable works. The one called, the Sundry lots of love. The other of his own invention entitled. The climbing of an Eagles' nest. These things (and especially the later) doth seem by the name to be a work worthy the reading. And the rather I judge so because his fantasy is so occupied in the same, as that contrary to his wont use, he hath hitherto withheld it from sight of any his familiars, until it be finished, you may guess him by his Nature. And therefore I require your secrecy herein, lest if he hear the contrary, we shall not be able by any means to procure these other at his hands. So far you well, from my Chamber this tenth of August. 1572. Yours or not his own. G. T. WHen I had with not small entreaty obtained of Master F. I and sundry other toward young gentlemen, the sundry copies of these sundry matters, then aswell for that the number of them was great, as also for that I found none of them, so barren, but that (in my judgement) had in it Aliquid Salis, and especially being considered by the very proper occasion whereupon it was written (as they themselves did always with the verse rehearse unto me the cause that than moved them to writ) I did with more labour gather them into some order, and so placed them in this register. Wherein as near as I could guess, I have set in the first places those which Master. F. I did compyle. And to begin with this his history that ensueth, it was (as he declared unto me) written upon this occasion. The said F. I chanced once in the north parts of this Realm to fall in company of a very fair gentlewoman whose name was Mistress Elinor, unto whom bearing a hot affection, he first adventured to writ this letter following. G. T. Mistress I pray you understand that being altogether a stranger in these parties, my good hap hath been to behold you to my (not small) contentation, and my evil hap accompanies the same, with such imperfection of my deserts, as that I find always a ready repulse in mine own frowardness. So that considering the natural climate of the country, I must say that I have found fire in frost. And yet comparing the inequality of my deserts, with the lest part of your worthiness, I feel a continual frost, in my most fervent fire. Such is than thextremity of my passions, the which I could never have been content to commit unto this tell-tale paper, wear it not that I an destitute of all other help. Accept therefore I beseek you, the earnest good will of a more trusty (than worthy) servant, who being thereby encouraged, may supply the defects of his ability with ready trial of dutiful loyalty. And let this poor paper (besprent with salt tears, and blown over with scalding sighs) be saved of you as a safe guard for your sampler, or a bottom to wind your sowing silk, that when your last nedelfull is wrought, you may return to reading thereof and consider the care of him who is Moore yours than his own. F. I THis letter by her received (as I have hard him say) her answer was this: She took occasion one day, at his request to dance with him, the which doing, she bashfully begun to declare unto him, that she had read over the writing, which he delivered unto her, with like protestation, that (as at delivery thereof, she understood not for what cause he thrust the same into her bosom,) so now she could not perceive thereby any part of his meaning, nevertheless at last seemed to take upon high the mat and though she disabled herself, yet gave him thanks as &c. whereupon he broke the brawl, and walking abroad devised immediately these few verses following. G. T. FA●●e Bersabe the bright once bathing in a Well, With draw bedimmd King David's eyes that ruled Israel. And Solomon himself, the source of sapience, Against the force of such assaults could make but small defence: To it the stoutest yield, and strongest feel like woe, Bold Hercules and Samson both, did prove it to be so. What wonder seems than? when stars stand thick in skies, If such a blazing star have power to dim my dazzled eyes? Lenuoie. To you these few suffice, your wits be quick and good, You can conject by change of hue, what humours feed my blood. F. I I Have herded the Author say, that these were the first verses that ever he written upon like occasion. The which considering the matter precedent, may in my judgement be well allowed, and to judge his do by the effects he declared unto me, that before he could put the same in legible writing, it pleased the said Mistress Elinor of her courtesy thus to deal with him. Walking in a garden among divers other gentlemen & gentlewomen, with a little frowning smile in passing by him, she delivered unto him a paper, with these words. For that I understand not (quoth she) th'intent of your letters, I pray you take them here again, and bestow them at your pleasure. The which done and said, she passed by without change either of pace or countenance. F. I somewhat troubled with her angry look, did suddenly leave the company, & walking into a park near adjoining, in great rage begun to wreak his malice on this poor paper, and he same did rend and tear in pieces. When suddenly at a glance he perceived it was not of his own hand writing, and therewithal abashed, upon better regard he perceived in one piece thereof written (in Roman) these letters S H E: wherefore placing all the pieces thereof, as orderly as he could, he found therein written, these few lines hereafter following. G. T. YOur sudden departure, from our pastime yesterday, did enforce me for lack of choose company to return unto my work, wherein I did so long continue, till at the last the bore bottom did draw unto my remembrance your strange request. And although I found therein not just cause to credit your coloured words, yet have I thought good hereby to requited you with like courtesy, so that at lest you shall not condemn me for ungrateful. But as to the matter therein contained, if I could persuade myself, that there were in me any coals to kindle such sparks of fire, I might yet peradventure be drawn to believe that your mind were frozen with like fear. But as not smoke ariseth, where not coal is kindled, so without cause of affection the passion is easy to be cured. This is all that I understand of your dark letters. And as much as I mean to answer. S H E. MY friend F. I hath told me divers times, that immediately upon receipt hereof, he grew in jealousy, that the same was not her own devise. And there in I have not less allowed his judgement, than commended his invention of the verses, and letters before rehearsed. For as by the stile this letter of hers bewrayeth that it was not penned by a woman's capacity, so the sequel of her do may decipher, that she had me ready clerk than trusty servants in store. Well yet as the perfect hound, when he hath chased the hurt dear, amid the whole herded, will never give over till he have singled it again. Even so F. I though somewhat abashed with this doubtful show, yet still constant in his former intention, ceased not by all possible means, to bring this Dear yet once again to the Bows, whereby she might be the more surely stryken: and so in the end enforced to yield. Wherefore he thought not best to commit the said verses willingly into her custody, but privily lost them in her chamber, written in counterfeit. And after on the next day thought better to reply, either upon her, or upon her Secretary in this wise as here followeth. G. T. THE much that you have answered is very much, and much more than I an able to reply unto: nevertheless in mine own defence, thus I allege: that if my sudden departure pleased not you, I cannot myself therewith be pleased, as one that seeks not to please many, and more disirous to please you than any. The cause of mine affection, I suppose you behold daily. For (self love avoided) every wight may judge of themselves as much as reason persuadeth: the which if it be in your good nature suppressed with bashfulness, than mighty love grant, you may once behold my wan cheeks washed in woe, that therein my salt tears may be a mirror to represent your own shadow, and that like unto Narcissus you may be constrained to kiss the cold waves, wherein your counterfeit is so lively portrayed. For if abundance of other matters failed to draw my gazing eyes in contemplation of so rare excellency, yet might these your letters both frame in me an admiration of such divine esprit, and a confusion to my dull understanding, which so rashly presumed to wander in this endless Laberinthe. Such I esteem you, and thereby an become such, and Even. HERALD F.I. THis letter finished and fair written over, his chance was to meet her alone in a Gallery of the same house: where (as I have herded him declare) his manhood in this kind of combat was first tried, and therein I can compare him to a valiant Prince, who distressed with power of enemies had committed the safeguard of his person to treaty of Ambassade, and suddenly (surprised with a Camnassado in his own trenches) was enforced toyield as prisoner. Even so my friend F.I. lately overcome by the beautiful beams of this Dame Elynor, and having now committed his most secret intent to these late rehearsed letters, was at unwares encountered with his friendly foe, and constrained either to prepare some new defence, or else like a recreant to yield himself as already vanquished. Wherefore (as in a trance) he lifted up his dazzled eyes, & so continued in a certain kind of admiration, not unlike the Astronomer, who (having after a whole night's travail, in grey morning found his desired star) hath fixed his hungry eyes to behold the Comet long looked for: whereat this gracious Dame (as one that could discern the sun before her chamber windows were wide open) did deign to embolden the feinting with these or like words. I perceive now (quoth she) how mishap doth follow me, that having choose this walk for a simple solace, I an here disquieted by the man that means my destruction▪ & therewithal, as half angry, begun to turn her back, when as my friend F.I. now awaked, 'gan thus salute her. Mistress (quoth he) and I perceive now, that good hap haunts me, for being by lack of opportunity constrained to commit my welfare unto these blabbing leaves of bewraying pape (showing that in his hand) I an here recomforted with happy view of my desired joy, & therewithal reverently kissing his hand, did softly distreine her slender arm & so stayed her departure. The first blow thus proffered & defended, they walked & talked traversing divers ways, wherein I doubt not but that my friend. F.I. could quit himself reasonably well. And though it stood not with duty of a friend that I should therein require to know her secrets, yet of himself he declared thus much, that after long talk she was contented to accept his proffered service, but yet still disabling herself, and seeming to marvel what cause had moved him to subject his liberty so wilfully, or at lest in a prison (as she termed it) so unworthy. Whereunto I need not rehearse his answer, but suppose now, that thus they departed: saving I had forgotten this, she required of him the last rehearsed letter, saying that his frist was lost, & now she lacked a new bottom for her silk, the which I warrant you, he granted: and so proffering to take an humble congé by Bezo las manos, she graciously gave him the zuccado dez labros: and so for than departed. And thereupon recompting her words, he compiled these following, which he termed Terza sequenza, to sweet Mistress SHE. G. T. OF thee dear Dame, three lessons would I learn, What reason first persuades the foolish Fly (As soon as she a candle can discern) To play with flame, till she be burned thereby? Or what may move the Mouse to bite the bait Which strikes the trap, that stops her hungry breath? What calls the Bird, where snares of deep deceit Are closely caught to draw her to her death? Consider well, what is the cause of this. And though percase thou will't not so confess, Yet deep desire, to gain a heavenly bliss, May drown the mind in dole and dark distress: Often is it seen (whereat my heart may bleed) Fools play so long till they be caught in deed. And than It is a heaven to see them hop and skip, And seek all shifts to shake their shackles of: It is a world, to see them hung the lip. Who (erst) at love, were w●nt to scorn and skof. But as the Mouse, once caught in crafty trap, May bounce and beat, against the boorden brickwall, Till she have brought her head in such mishap, That down to death her fainting limbs must fall: And as the Fly once singed in the flame, Cannot command her wings to wave away: But by the heel, she hangs in the same Till cruel death her hasty journey stay. So they that seek to break the links of love strive with the stream, and this by pain I prou●. For when I first beheld that heavenly hew of thine, Thy stately stature, and thy comely grace, I must confess these dazzled eyes of mine Did wink for fear, when I first viewed thy face But bold desire, did open them again, And bade me look till I had looked to long, I pitied them that did procure my pain, And loved the looks that wrought me all the wrong: And as the Bird once caught (but works her woe) That stryues to leave the lymed wings behind: Even so the more I strove to part thee from, The greater grief did grow within my mind: Remediless than must I yield to thee, And crave not more, thy servant but to be till than and ever. HERALD F. I WHen he had well sorted this sequence, he sought opportunity to leave it where she might find it before it were lost. And now the coals begun to kindle, whereof (but ere while) she feigned herself altogether ignorant. The flames begun to break out on every side: & she to quench them, shut up herself in her chamber solitarely. But as the smithie gathers greater heat by casting on of water, even so the more she absented herself from company, the fresher was the grief which galded her remembrance: so that at last the report was spread through the house, that Mistress Elinor was sick. At which news F. I took small comfort: nevertheless Dame Venus with good aspect did yet thus much further his enterprise. The Dame (whether it were by sudden change, or of wont custom) fallen one day into a great bleeding at the nose. For which accident the said F. I among other pretty conceits, hath a present remedy, whereby he took occasion (when they of the house had all in vain sought many ways to stop her bleeding) to work his feat in this wise: First he pleaded ignorance, as though he knew not her name, and therefore demanded the same of one other Gentlewoman in the house, whose name was Mistress Frances, who when she had to him declared that her name was Elinor, he said these words or very like in effect: If I thought I should not offend Mistress Elynor, I would not doubt to stop her bleeding, without either pain or difficulty. This gentlewoman somewhat tickled with his words, did incontinent make relation thereof to the said Mistress Elynor, who immediately (declaring that F. I was her late received servant) returned the said messenger unto him with especial charge, that he should employ his devoir towards the recovery of her health, with whom the same F. I repaired to the chamber of his desired: and finding her set in a chair, leaning on the one side over a silver basin: After his due reuereuce, he laid his hand on her temples, and privily rounding her in her ear, desired her to command a Hazel stick and a knife: the which being brought, he delivered unto her, saying on this wise. Mistress I will speak certain words in secret to myself, and do require not more: but when you hear me say openly this word Amen, that you with this knife will make a nycke upon this hazel stick: and when you have made five nicks, command me also to cease. The Dame partly of good will to the knight, and partly to be stenched of her bleeding, commanded her maid, and required the other gentiles, somewhat to stand aside, which done, he begun his orisons, wherein he had not long muttered before he pronounced Amen, wherewith the Lady made a nyck on the stick with her knife. The said F. I continued to an other Amen, when the Lady having made an other nyck felt her bleeding, begun to steynch: and so by the third Amen thoroughly steinched. F. I than changing his prayers into private talk, said softly unto her. Mistress, I an glad that I an hereby enabled to do you some service, and as the staunching of your own blood may some way recomfort you, so if the shedding of my blood may any way content you, I beseech you command it, for it shallbe evermore readily employed in your service, and therewithal with a loud voice pronounced Amen: wherewith the good Lady making a nyck did secretly answer thus. Good servant (quoth she) I must needs think myself right happy to have gained your service and good will, and be you sure, that although there be in me not such desert as may draw you into this depth of affection, yet such as I an, I shallbe always glad to show myself thankful unto you, and now, if you think yourself assured, that I shall bleed not more, do them prononce your fifth Amen, the which pronounced, she made also her fifth nick, and held up her head, calling the company unto her, and declaring unto them, that her bleeding was thoroughly steinched. Well, it were long to tell, what sundry opinions were pronounced upon this act, and I do devil overlong in the discourses of this F. I especially having taken in hand only to copy out his verses, but for the circumstance doth better declare the effect, I will return to my former tale. F. I tarrying a while in the chamber found opportunity to lose his sequence near to his desired Mistress: And after congé taken departed. After whose departuer the Lady arose out of her chair, & her maid going about to remove the same, espied, & took up the writing: the which her mistress perceiving, 'gan suddenly conjecture that the same had in it some like matter to the verses once before left in like manner, & made semblant to mistrust that the same should be some words of conjuration: and taking it from her maid, did peruse it, & immediately said to the company, that she would not forego the same for a great treasure. But to be plain, I think that (F. I excepted) she was glad to be rid of all company, until she had with sufficient leisure turned over & retossed every card in this sequence. And not long after being now tickled through all the veins with an unknown humour, adventured of herself to commit unto a like Ambassador the discyphring of that which hitherto she had kept more secret, & thereupon wrote with her own hand & head in this wise. G. T. GOod servant, I an out of all doubt much beholding unto you, and I have great comfort by your means in the steinching of my blood, and I take great comfort to read your letters, and I have found in my chamber divers songs which I think to be of your making, and I promise' you, they are excellently made, I assure you that I willbe ready to do for you any pleasure that I can, during my life: wherefore I pray you come to my chamber once in a day, till I come abroad again, and I willbe glad of your company, and for because that you have promised to be my HE: I will take upon me this name, your SHE. THis letter I have seen, of her own hand writing: and as therein the Reader may find great difference of Style, from her former letter, so may you now understand the cause. She had in the same house a friend, a servant, a Secretary: what should I name him? such one as she esteemed in time passed more than was cause in time present, and to make my tale good, I will (by report of my very good friend F. I) describe him unto you. He was in height, the proportion of two Pygmies, in breadth the thickness of two bacon hogs, of presumption a Giant, of power a Gnat, Apishly witted, Knavishly mannered, & crabbedly favoured, what was there in him than to draw a fair Ladies liking? Mary sir even all in all, a well lined purse, wherewith he could at every call, provide such pretty conceits as pleased her peevish fantasy, and by that means he had thoroughly (long before) insinuated himself with this amorous dame. This manling, this minion, this slave, this secretary, was now by occasion rydden to London forsooth: and though his absence were unto her a disfurnishing of eloquence: it was yet unto F. I an opportunity of good advantage, for when he perceived the change of her stile, and thereby grew in some suspicion that the same proceeded by absence of her chief Chancellor, he thought good now to smite while the iron was hot, and to lend his Mistress such a pen in her Secretary's absence, as he should never be able at his return to amend the well writing thereof, wherefore according to her command he repaired once every day to her chamber, at the lest, whereas he guided himself so well, and could devise such store of sundry pleasure and pastimes, that he grew in favour not only with his desired, but also with the rest of the gentlewomen. And one day passing the time among them, their play grew to this end, that his Mistress, being Queen, demanded of him these three questions. Servant (quoth she) I charge you, aswell upon your allegiance being now my subject, as also upon your fidelity, having vowed your service unto me that you answer me these three questions, by the very truth of your secret thought. First, what thing in this universal world doth most rejoice and comfort you? F. I abasing his eyes towards the ground, took good advisement in his answer, when a fair gentlewoman of the company clapped him on the shoulder, saying, how now sir, is your hand on your halfpenny? To whom he answered, not fair Lady, my hand is on my heart, and yet my heart is not in mine own hands: wherewithal abashed turning towards dame Elinor he said. My sovereign & Mistress, according to the charge of your command, and the duty that I own you, my tongue shall bewray unto you the truth of mine intent. At this present a reward given me without desert▪ doth so rejoice me with continual remembrance thereof, that though my mind be so occupied to think thereon, as that day nor night I can be quiet from that thought, yet the joy and pleasure which I conceive in the same is such, that I can neither be cloyed with continuance thereof, nor yet afraid, that any mishap can countervail so great a treasure. This is to me such a heaven to devil in, as that I feed by day, and repose by night, upon the fresh record of this reward, this (as he sayeth) he meant by the kiss that she lent him in the Gallery, and by the profession of her last letters and words. Well, though this answer be somewhat misty, yet let my friends excuse be: that taken upon the sudden he thought better to answer darkly, than to be mistrusted openly. Her second question was, what thing in this life did most grieve his heart, and disquiet his mind, whereunto he answered. That although his late rehearsed joy were incomparable, yet the greatest enemy that disturbed the same, was the privy worm of his own guilty conscience, which accused him evermore with great unworthiness: and that this was his greatest grief. The Lady biting upon the bit at his cunning answers made unto these two questions, 'gan thus reply, Servant, I had thought to have touched you yet nearer with my third question, but I will refrain to attempt your patience: and now for my third demand, answer me directly in what manner this passion doth handle you? and how these contraries may hung together by any possibility of concord? for your words are strauunge. F. I now rousing himself boldly took occasion thus to handle his answer. Mistress (quoth he) my words in deed are strange, but yet my possion is is much stranger, and thereupon this other day to content mine own fantasy I devised a Sonnet, which although it be a piece of Cocklorells music, and such as I might be ashamed to publish in this company, yet because my truth in this answer may the better appear unto you, I pray you vouchsafe to receive the same in writing: and drawing a paper out of his packet presented it unto her, wherein was written this Sonnet. G. T. Love, hope, and death, do stir in me such strife, As never man but I led such a life. First burning love doth wound my heart to death, And when death comes at call of inward grief Cold linger hope, doth feed my fainting breath Against my will, and yields my wound relief: So that I live, but yet my life is such, As death would never grieve me half so much. Not comfort than but only this I taste, To salve such sore, such hope will never want, And with such hope, such life will ever last, And with such life, such sorrows are not scant. O strange desire, OH life with torments tossed Through too much hope, mine only hope is lost. Even HE F. I THis Sonnet was highly commended, and in my judgement it deserveth not less, I have herded F. I say, that he borrowed th'inuentiun of an Italian: but were it a translation or invention (if I be judge) it is both pretty and pithy. His duty thus performed, their pastimes ended, and at their departure for a watch word he counseled his Mistress by little and little to walk abroadsaying that the Gallery near adjoining was so pleasant, as if he were half dead he thought that by walking therein he might be half and more revived. Thinks you so servant (quoth she?) and the last time that I walked there I suppose I took the cause of my malady, but by your advise (and for you have ●o clerkly steynched my bleeding) I will assay to walk there to morrow. Mistress quod he, and in more full accomplishment of my duty towards you, and in sure hope that you will use the same one lie to your own private commodity, will there await upon you, & between you & me will teach you the full order how to steynch the bleeding of any creature, whereby you shall be as cunning as myself. Gramercy good servant, quoth she, I think you lost the same in writing here yesterday, but I cannot understand it, and therefore to morrow (if I feel myself any thing amended) I will sand for you thither to instruct me thoroughly: thus they departed. And at supper time, the Knight of the Castel finding fault that his gests stomach served him not better, begun to accuse the grossness of his viands, to whom one of the gentlewomen which had passed the afternoon in his company, answered. Nay sir quoth she, this gentleman hath a passion, the which once once in a day at the lest doth kill his appetite. Are you so well acquainted with the disposition of his body quoth the Lord of the house? by his own saying, quoth she, & not otherwise. Fair Lady quoth F. I you either mistoke me or overheard me than, for I told of a comfortable humour which so ●ed me with continual remembrance of joy, as that my stomach being ful thereof doth desire in manner none other vittayles. Why sir, quoth the host, do you than live by love? God forbidden Sir quod F. I for than my cheeks would be much thinner than they be, but there are divers other greater causes of joy, than the doubtful lots of love, and for mine own part, to be plain, I cannot love, and I dare not hate. I would I thought so, quoth the gentlewoman. And thus with pretty nyppes, they passed over their supper: which ended, the Lord of the house require● F. I to dance and pass the time with the gentlewoman, which he refused not to do. But suddenly, before the music was well tuned, came out Dame Elynor in her night attire, and said to the Lord, that (supposing the solitariness of her chamber had increased her malady) she came out for her better recreation to see them dance, Well done daughter (quoth the Lord) And I Mistress (quod F. I) would gladly bestow the leading of you about this great chamber, to drive away the faintness of your fever. Not good servant, quoth the Lady, but in my stéede, I pray you dance with this fair Gentlewoman, pointing him to the Lady that had so taken him up at supper. F. I to avoid mistrust, did agree to her request without further entreaty. The dance begun, this Knight marched on with the Image of S. Fraunces in his hand, and S. Elynor in his heart. The violands at end of the pavion stayed a while: in which time this Dame said to F. I on this wise. I an right sorry for you in two respects, although the familiarity have hitherto had not great continuance between us: and as I do lament your case, so do I rejoice (for mine own contentation) that I shall now see a due trial of the experiment which I have long desired. This said, she kept silence. When F. I (somewhat astonished with her strange speech) thus answered: Mistress although I cannot conceive the meaning of your words, yet by courtesy I an constrained to yield you thanks for your good will, the which appears not less in lamenting of mishaps, than in rejoicing at good fortune. What experiment you mean to try by me, I know not, but I dare assure you, that my skill in experiments is very simple. Herewith the Instruments sounded a new Measure, and they passed forthwardes leaving to talk, until the noise ceased: which done, the gentlewoman replied. I an sorry sir, that you did erewhile, deny love and all his laws, and that in so open audience. Not so quod F. I but as the word was roundly taken, so can I readily answer it by good reason. Well quoth she, how if the hearers will admit not reasonable answer? My reason shall yet be nevertheless (quoth he) in reasonable judgement. Herewith she smiled, and he cast a glance towards dame Elinor askances art thou pleased? Again the viols called them forthwardes, and again at the end of the brawl said F. I to this gentlewoman: I pray you Mistress, and what may be the second cause of your sorrow sustained in my behalf? Nay soft quoth she, percase I have not yet told you the first, but content yourself, for the second cause you shall never know at my hands, until I see due trial of the experiment which I have long desired. Why than (quoth she) I can but wish a present occasion to bring the same to effect, to the end that I might also understand the mystery of your meaning. And so might you fail of your purpose (quoth she) for I mean to be better assured of him that shall know the depth of mine intent in such a secret, than I do suppose that any creature (one except) may be of you. Gentlewoman (quoth he) you speak Greek, the which I have now forgotten, and mine instructors are to far from me at this present to expound your words. Or else to near (quoth she) and so smiling stayed her talk, when the music called them to another dance. Which ended, F. I half afraid of false suspect, and more amazed at this strange talk, gave over, and bringing Mistress Frances to her place was thus saluted by his Mistress. Servant (quoth she) I had done you great wrong to have danced with you, considering that this gentlewoman and you had former occasion of so weighty conference. Mistress said F. I you had done me great pleasure, for by our conference I have but brought my brains in a busy conjecture. I doubt not (said his Mistress) but you will end that business easily. It is hard said F. I to end the thing, whereof yet I have found not beginning. His Mistress with change of countenance kept silence, whereat dame Frances rejoicing, cast out this bone to gnaw on. I perceive (quoth she) it is evil to halt before a cripple. F. I perceiving now that his Mistress waxed angry thought good on her behalf thus to answer: and it is evil to hop before them that run for the Bell: his Mistress replied, and it is evil to hung the Bell at their heels which are always running. The L. of he Castle overhearing these proper quips, risen out of his chair, and coming towards F. I required him to dance a Gallyard. Sir said F. I I have hitherto at your apoyntment but walked about the house, now if you be desirous to see one tumble a turn or twain, it is like enough that I might provoke you to laugh at me, but in good faith my dancing days are almost done, and therefore sir (quoth he) I pray you speak to them that are more nimble at tripping on the toe. Whilst he was thus saying dame Elynor had made her Congey, and was now entering the door of her chamber: when F. I all amazed at her sudden departure followed to take leave of his Mistress: but she more than angry, refused to hear his good night, and entering her chamber caused her maid to clap the door. F. I with heavy cheer returned to his company, and Mistress Frances to toutch his sore with a corrosive said to him softly in this wise. Sir you may now perceive that this our country cannot allow the French manner of dancing, for they (as I have herded tell) do more commonly dance to talk, than entreat to dance. F. I hoping to drive out one nail with another, and thinking this a mean most convenient to suppress all jealous supposes, took Mistress Frances by the hand● and with a heavy smile answered. Mistress and I (because I have seen the french manner of dancing) will eftsoons entreat you to dance a Bargynet: what mean you by this quod Mistress Frances. If it please you to follow (quoth he) you shall see that I can jest without joy, and laugh without lust, and calling the musicians, caused them softly to sound the Tyntarnell, when he clearing his voice did Alla Napolitana apply these verses following, unto the measure. G. T. IN prime of lusty years, when Cupid caught me in And nature taught the way to love, how I might best begin: To please my wandering eye, in beauties tickle trade, To gaze on each that passed by, a careless sport I made. With sweet enticing bait, I fished for many a dame, And warmed me by many a fire, yet felt I not the flame: But when at last I spied, the face that please me most, The coals were quick, the wood was dry, & I begun to tost●. And smile yet full often, I have beheld that face, When in my heart I might bewail mine own unlucky case: And often again with looks that might bewray my grief, I pleaded hard for just reward, and sought to found relief. What will you more? so often, my gazing eyes did seek To see the Rose and Lily strive upon that lively cheek: Till at the last I spied, and by good proof I found, That in that face was painted plain, the pearcer of my wound. Than (all to late) aghast, I did my foot reitre, And sought with secret sighs to quench my greedy scalding fire: But lo, I did prevail as much to guide my will, As he that seeks with halting heel, to hop against the hill. Or as the feeble sight, would search the sunny beam, Even so I found but labour lost, to strive against the stream. Than 'gan I thus resolve, since liking forced love, Should I mislike my happy choice, before I did it prove? And since none other joy I had but her to see, Should I retire my deep desire? not not it would not be: Though great the duty were, that she did well deserve, And I poor man, unworthy an so worthy a wight to serve, Yet hope my comfort stayed, that she would have regard To my good will, that nothing craved, but like for just reward: I see the Falcon gentleman sometimes will take delight, To seek the solace of her wing, and dally with a kite. The fairest Woulf will choose the foulest for her make, And why? because he doth endure most sorrow for her sake▪ Even so had I like hope, when doleful days were spent, When weary words were wasted well, to open true intent. When floods of flowing tears, had washed my weeping eyes, When trembling tongue had troubled her, with loud lamenting cries: At last her worthy will would pity this my plaint, And comfort me her own poor slave, whom fear had made so faint. Wherefore I made a vow, the stony rock should start, E'er I presume, to let her slip out of my faithful heart. Lenuoie. And when she saw by proof, the pith of my good will, She took in worth this simple song, for want of better skill. And as my just deserts, her gentle heart did move, She was content to answer thus: I an content to love. F. I THese verses are more in number than do stand with contentation of some judgements, and yet the occasion thoroughly considered, I can commend them with the rest, for it is (as may be well fermed) continua or at ●o▪ declaring a full discourse of his first love: wherein (over and besides that the Epythetes are aptly applied, & the verse of itself pleasant enough) I note that by it he meant in clouds to decipher unto Mistress Fraunces such matter as she would snatch at, and yet could take not good hold of the same. Furthermore, it answered very aptly to the note which the music sounded, as the skilful reader by due trial may approve. This singing dance, or dancing song ended, Mistress Frances giving due thanks, seemed weary also of the company, and proffering to depart, gave yet this farewell to F. I not vexed by choler, but pleased with contentation, and called away by heavy sleep: I an constrained (quoth she) to bid you good night, and so turning to the rest of the company, took her leave. Than the Master of the house commanded a torch to light F. I to his lodging, where (as I have herded him say) the sudden change of his Mistress countenance, together with the strangeness of Mistress France's talk, made such an encounter in his mind, that he could take not rest that night: wherefore in the morning rising very early (although it were far before his mistress hour) he rooled his choler by walking in the Gallery near to her lodging, and there in this passion compiled these vers●ss following. G. T. A cloud of care hath coured all my cost, And storms of strife do threaten to appear: The waves of woe, which I mistrusted most, Have broken the banks wherein my life lay clear: Chips of ill chance, are fallen amid my choice, To mar the mind, that meant for to rejoice. Before I sought, I found the haven of hap▪ Wherein (once found) I sought to shroud my ship, But lowering love hath lift me from her lap, And crabbed lot begins to hung the lip: The drops of dark, mistrust do fall so thick, They pierce my coat, and touch my skin at quick▪ What may be said, where truth cannot preu●yl●? What plea may serve, where will itself is judge? What reason rules, where right and reason fail? remediless than must the guiltless trudge: And s●eke out care, to be the carving knife To cut the thread, that lingereth such a life, F. I THis is but a rough 〈◊〉, and reason, for it was devised in great disquiet of mind, and written SATURN'S rage, yet have I seen much worse pass the mustors, yea and where both the Lieutenant and Provost Martial were 〈◊〉 of ripe judgement: and as it is, I pray you 〈…〉 here, for the truth is that F. I himself had so 〈…〉 therein, that he never presented it, but to the matter. When he had long (and all in vain) looked for the coming of his Mistress into her appointed walk: he wandered into the park near adjoining to the Castle brickwall; where his chance was to meet Mistress Frances, accompanied with one other Gentlewoman, by whom he passed with a reverence of courtesy: and so walking on, came into the side of a thicket▪ where he sat down under a tree to alloy his sadness with solitariness. Mistress Frances, partly of courtesy and affection, and partly to content her mind by continuance of such talk as they had commenced over night, entreated her companion to go with her unto this tree of reformation, whereas they found the Knight with his arms unfolded in a heavy kind of contemplation, unto whom Mistress Frances stepped apace, (right softly) & at unwares gave this salutation. I little thought Sir Knight (quoth she) by your evensong yesternight, to have found you presently at such a morrow mass, but I perceive you serve your Saint with double devotion: and I pray God grant you triple meed for your true intent. F. I taken thus upon the sudden, could none otherwise answer but thus: I told you Mistress (quoth he) that I could laugh without lu●●, and jest without joy: and there withal starting up, with a more bold countenance came towards the Dames, proffering unto them his service, to wait upon them homewards. I have herded say often times (quoth Mistress Frances) that it is hard to serve two Masters at one time, but we willbe right glad of your company. I thank you (quod F. I) and so walking on with them, fallen into sundry discourses, still refusing to touch any part of their former communication, until Mistress Frawces said unto him: by my troth (quoth thee) I would be your debtor these two days, to answer me truly but unto one question that I will propound: fair Gentlewoman (quoth he) you shall not need to become my debtor, but if it please you to quit question by question, I will be more ready to gratify you in this request, than either reason requires, or than you would be willing to work my contentation. Master F. I (quoth she, & that sadly) peraduentur you know but a little how willing I would be to procure your contentation, but you know that hitherto familiarity hath taken not deep root betwixt us twain. And though I found in you not manner of cause whereby I might doubt to commit this or greater matter unto you, yet have I stayed hitherto so to do, in doubt lest you might thereby justly condemn me both of arrogancy and lack of discretion, wherewith I must yet foolishly affirm, that I have with great pain brydeled my tongue from disclosing the same unto you. Such is than the good will that I bear towards you, the which if you rather judge to be impudency, than a friendly meaning, I may than curse the hour that I first concluded thue to deal with you: herewithal being now read for chaste bashefulnesse, she abased her eyes, and stayed her talk, to whom F. I thus answered. Mistress Frances, if I should with so exceeding villainy requited such and so exceeding courtesy, I might not only seem to digenerate from all gentry, but also to differ in behaviour from all the rest of my life spent: wherefore to be plain with you in few words, I think myself so much bond unto you for divers respects, as if ability do not fail me, you shall find me mindful in requital of the same: and for disclosing your mind to me, you may if so please you adventure it without adventure, for by this Sun, quoth he, I will not deceive such trust as you shall lay upon me, and furthermore, so far forth as I may, I willbe yours in any respect: wherefore I beseech you accept me for your faithful friend, and so shall you surely found me. Not so, quoth she, but you shallbe my Trust, if you vouchsafe the name, and I willbe to you as you shall please to term me: my H●pe (quoth he) if you so be pleased and: thus agreed, they two walked a part from the other Gentlewoman, and fallen into sad talk, wherein Mistress Frances did very curteousely declare unto him, that in deed, one cause of her sorrow sustained in his behalf, was that he had said so openly over night, that he could not love, for she perceived very well the affection between him and Madam Elynor, and she was also advertised that Dame Elynor stood in the portal of her chamber, hearkening to the talk that they had at supper that night, wherefore she seemed to be sorry that such a word (rashly escaped) might become great hindrance unto his desire: but a greater cause of her grief was (as she declared) that his hap was to bestow his liking so unworthily, for she seemed to accuse Dame Elynor, for the most unconstant woman living: In full proof whereof, she bewrayed unto F. I how she the same Dame Elynor, had of long time been yielded to the Minion Secretary, whom I have before described: in whom though there be (quoth she) not one point of worthiness, yet shameth she not to use him as h●●●ea●est friend, or rather her holiest Idol, and that this not withstanding Dame Elynor had been also sundry times won to choice of change, as she named unto F. I two Gentlemen whereof the one was named H. D. and that other H. K. by whom she was during sundry times of their several abode in those parties, entreated to like ●urteousie, for these cause's the Dame Frances seemed to mislike F. I choice, and to lament that she doubted in process of time to see him abused. The experiment she meant was this, for that she thought F. I (I use her words) a man in every respect very worthy to have the several use of a more commodious common, she hoped now to see if his enclosure thereof might be defensible against her said Secretary, and such like. These things and divers other of great importance, this courteouse Lady Frances did friendly disclose unto F. I and furthermore, did both instruct and advise him how to proceed in his enterprise. Now to make my talk good, and lest the Reader might be drawn in a jealous suppose of this Lady Frances; I must let you understand that she was unto F. I a kinswoman, a virgin of rare chastity, singular capacity, notable modesty, and excellent beauty: and though F. I had cast his affection on the other (being a married woman) yet was there in their beauties not great difference: but in all other good gifts a wonderful diversity, as much as might be between constancy & ●litting fantasy, between womanly countenance & girlish garishnes, between hot dissimulation & temperate fidelity. Now if any man will curiously ask the question why F. I should choose the one and leave the other, over and besides the common proverb? (So many men so many minds) thus may be answered: we see by common experience, that the highest flying fa●con, doth more commonly pray upon the corn fed crow, & the simple shiftles dove, than on the mounting kite: and why? because the one is overcome with less difficulty than that other. Thus much in defence of this Lady Frances, & to excuse the choice of my friend F. I who thought himself now not less beholding to good fortune, to have found such a trusty friend, than bound to Dame Venus, to have won such a Mistress. And to return unto my pretence, understand you, the F. I (being now with these two fair Ladies come very near the castle) grew in some jealous doubt (as on his own behalf) whether he were best to break company or not. When his assured Hope, perceiving the same, 'gan thus recomfort him: Good sir (quoth she) if you trusted your trusty friends, you should not need thus cowardly to stand in dread of your friendly enemies. Well said in faith (quod F. I and I must confess, you were in my bosom before I witted, but yet I have herded said often, that in Trust is treason. Well spoken for yourself quoth his Hope. F. I now remembering that he had but erewhile taken upon him the name of her Trust, came home per misericordiam, when his Hope entering the Castle gate, caught hold of his lay, and half by force led him by the gallery unto his Mistress chamber: whereas after a little dissembling disdain, he was at last by the good help of his Hope, right thankfully received: and for his Mistress was now ready to dine, he was therefore for that time arrested there, & a supersedias sent into the great chamber unto the Lord of the house, who expected his coming out of the park. The dinner ended, & he thoroughly contented with t welfare & welcome, they fallen into sundry devices of pastime: at last F. I taking into his hand a Lute that lay on his Mistress bed, did unto the note of the Venetian galliard apply the Italian ditty written by the worthy Bradamant unto the noble Rugier, as Ari●sto hath it. Rugier qual semper fui, &c. but his Mistress could not be quiet until she herded him repeat the Tyntarnell which he used over night, the which F. I 〈…〉 night's roast, with the bruise thereof. Well, servant (quoth she) content yourself, and for your sake, I will speak to her to provide him a plaster, the which I myself will apply to his hurt: And to the end it may work the better with him, I will purvey a lodging for him, where hereafter he may sleep at more quiet. This laid the rosy hew, distained her sickly cheeks, and she returned to the company, leaving F. I ravished between hope and dread, as one that could neither co●●ecture the meaning of her mystical words, nor assuredly ●rust unto the knot of her sliding affections. When the Lady Frances coming to him, demanded, what? dream you sir? Yea marry do I fair Lady (quoth he). And what was your dream, sir (quoth she?) I dreamed (quod F. I) that wa●●ing in a pleasant garden garnished with sundry 〈◊〉, my hap was to espy hanging in the air, a hope where in I might well behold the aspects and face of the heavens, and calling to remembrance the day and hour of my nativity, I did thereby (according to my small skill in Astronomy) try the conclusions of mine adventures. And what found you therein (quod dame Frances?) you awaked me out of my dream (quoth he) or else peradventure you should not have known. I believe you well (quoth the Ladi Frances) and laughing at his quick answer brought him by the hand unto the rest of his company: where he ●aried not long before his gracious Mistress had him to farewell, and to keep his hour there again, when he should by her be summoned. Hereby F. I passed the rest of that day in hope awaiting the happy time when his Mistress should send for him. Supper time came and passed over, and not long after came the handmaid of the Lady Elynor into the great chamber, desiring F. I to repair unto their Mistress, the which he willingly accomplished: and being now entered into her chamber, he might perceive his Mistress in her nights attire, preparing herself towards bed, to whom F. I said: Why how now Mistress? I had thought this night to have seen you dance (at lest or at last) among us? By my troth good servant (quoth she) adventured so soon unto the great chamber yesternight, that I found myself somewhat sickly disposed, and therefore do strain courtesy (as you see) to go the sooner to my bed this night: but before I sleep (quoth she) I an to charge you with a matter of weight, and taking him apart from the rest, declared that (as that present night) she would talk with him more at large in the gallery near ajoining to her chamber. Here upon F. I discreetly dissimuling his joy, took his leave and returned into the great chamber, where he had not long continued before the Lord of the Castle commanded a torch to light him unto his lodging, whereas he prepared himself and went to bed, commanding his servant also to go to his rest. And when he thought aswell his servant, as the rest of the household to be safe, he arose again, & taking his night gown, did under the same convey his naked sword, and so walked to the gallery, where he found his good Mistress walking in her night gown and attending his coming. The Moon was now at the full, the skies clear, and the weather temperate, by reason whereof he might the more plainly and with the greater contentation behold his long desired joys, and spreading his arms abroad to embrace his loving Mistress, he said: o my dear Lady when shall I be able with any desert to countervail the lest part of this your bountiful goodness? The dame (whether it were of fear in deed, or that the wylynes of womanhode had taught her to cover her conceits with some five dissimulation) start back from the Kning●, and shrieking (but softly) said unto him. Alas servant what have I deserved, that you come against me with naked sword as against an open enemy. F. I perceiving her intent excused himself, declaring that he brought the same for their defence, & not to offend her in any wise. The Lady being therewith somewhat appeased, they begun w t more comfortable gesture to expel the dread of the said late affright, and sithence to become bolder of behaviour, more familiar in speech, & most kind in accomplishing of common comfort. But why hold I so long discourse in describing the joys which (for lack of like experience) I cannot set out to the ful? Were it not that I know to whom I writ, I would the more beware what I writ. F. I was a man, and neither of us are senseless, and therefore I should slander him, (over and besides a greater obloquy to the whole genealogy of Aeneas) if I should imagine that of tender heart he would forbear to express her more tender limbs against the hard floor. Sufficed that of her courteous nature she was content to accept boards for a bead of down, mats for Camerike sheeets, and the night gown of F. I for a counterpoint to cover them, and thus with calm content, in stéede of quiet sleep, they beguiled the night, until the proudest star begun to abandon the firmament, when F. I and his Mistress, were constrained also to abandon their delights, and with ten thousand sweet kisses and strait embrace, did frame themselves to play loath to departed. Well, remedy was there none, but dame Elynor must return unto her chamber, and F. I must also convey himself (as closely as might be) into his chamber, the which was hard to do, the day being so far sprung, and he having a large base court to pass over before he could recover his stair foot door. And though he were not much perceived, yet the Lady Frances being not less desirous to see an issue of these enterprises, than F. I was willing to cover them in secrecy, did watch, & even at the entering of his chamber door, perceived the point of his naked sword glistering under the skyrt of his night gown: whereat she smiled & said to herself, this gear goes well about. Well, F. I having now recovered his chamber, he went to bed, & there let him sleep, as his Mistress did on that otherside. Although the Lady Frances being thoroughly tickled now in all the veins, could not enjoy such quiet rest, but arising, took another gentlewoman of the house with her, and walked into the park to take the fresh air of the morning. They had not long walked there, but they returned, and though F. I had not yet slept sufficiently, for one which had so far travailed in the night past, yet they went into his chamber to raise him, and coming to his bed's side, found him fast on sleep. Alas quoth that other gentlewoman, it were pity to awake him: even so it were quod dame Frances, but we will take away somewhat of his, whereby he may perceive that we were here, and looking about the chamber, his naked sword presented itself to the hands of dame Frances, who took it with her, and softly shutting his chamber door again, went down the stairs and recovered her own lodging, in good order and vnperceyued of any body, saving only that other gentlewoman which accompanied her. At the last F. I awaked, and apparreling himself, walked out also to take the air, and being thoroughly recomforted aswell with remembrance of his joys forepast, as also with the pleasant harmony which the Byr●es made on every side, and the fragrant smell of the redolent flowers and blossoms which budded on every branch: he did in these delights compyle these verses following. ¶ The occasion (as I have herded him rehearse) was by encounter that he had with his Lady by light of the moon: and forasmuch, as the moon in mids of their delights did vanish away, or was overspread with a cloud, thereupon he took the subject of his theme. And thus it ensueth, called a imooneshine Banquet. G. T. DAme Cynthia herself (that shines so bright, And deyneth not to leave her lofty place: But only than, when Phoebus shows his face Which is her brother born and lends her light,) Disdaynd not yet to do my Lady right: To prove that in such heavenly wights as she, It sitteth best that right and reason be. For when she spied my Ladies golden rays, Into the clouds, Her head she shrouds, And shamed to shine where she her beams displays. Good reason yet, that to my simple skill, I should the name of Cynthia adore: By whose high help, I might behold the more My Ladies lovely looks at mine own will, With deep content, to gare, and gaze my fill: Of curteousie and not of dark disdain, Dame Cynthia disclosed my Lady plain, She did but lend her light (as for a light) With friendly grace, To show her face, That else would show and shine in her despite. Dan Phoebus he with many a lowering look, Had her heheld of yore in angry wise: And when he could none other mean devise To stain her name, this deep deceit he took To be the bayt● that best might hid his hoke: Into her eyes his parching beams he cast, To skorche their skins, that gazed on her full fast: Whereby when many a man was son burned so They thought my Queen, The son had been With scalding flames, which wrought them all that woe▪ And thus when many a look had looked so long, As that their eyes were dim and dazzled both: Some fainting hearts that were both lewd and loath To look again from whence the error sprung, 'Gan close their eye for fear of further wrong: And some again once drawn into the maze, 'Gan lewdly blame the beams of beauty's blaze: But I with deep foresight did sun espy, How Phoebus meant, By false intent, To slander so her name with cruelty. Wherefore at better leisure thought I best, To try the treason of his treachery: And to exalt my Lady's dignity When Phoebus fled and drawn him down to rest Amid the waves that walter in the west. I 'gan behold this lovely Lady's face, Whereon dame nature spent her gifts of grace: And found therein not parching heat at all, But such bright hue, As might renew, An Angels joys in reign celestial. The courteous Moon that wished to do me good, Did shine to show my dame more perfectly, But when she saw her passing jollity, The Moon for shame, did blush as read as blood, And shrunk a side and kept her horns in hood: So that now when Dame Cynthia was go, I might enjoy my Ladies looks alone, Yet honoured still the Moon with true intent: Who taught us skill, To work our will, And gave us place, till all the night was spent. F. I THis Ballad, or howsoever I shall term it, percase you will not like, and yet in my judgement it hath great good store of deep invention, and for the order of the verse, it is not common, I have not herded many of like proportion, some will account it but a dyddeldome: but who so had herded F. I sing it to the lute, by a note of his own devise, I suppose he would esteem it to be a pleasant diddeldome, and for my part, if I were not partial, I would say more in commendation of it than now I mean to do, leaving it to your and like judgements. And now to returns to my tale, by that time, that F. I returned out of the park, it was dinner time, and at dinner they all met, I mean both dame Elynor, dame Frances, and F. I I leave to describe that the Lady Frances was gorgeously attired, and set forth with very brave apparel, and Madam Elynor only in her night gown girt to her, with a coif trimmed Alla Piedmonteze, on the which she beware a little cap crossed over the crown with two bends of yellow Sarcenet or Cypress, in the midst whereof she had placed (of her own had writing) in paper this word, Contented. This attire pleased her than to use, and could not have displeased Mistress Frances, had she not been more privy to the cause, than to the thing itself: at lest the Lord of the Castle of ignorance, and dame Frances of great temp●rance, let it pass without offence. At dinner, because the one was pleased with all former reconninges, and the other made privy to the account, there passed not word of taunt or grudge, but omnia bene. After dinner dame Elinor being not less desirous to have F. I company, than dame Frances was to take him in some pretty trip, they begun to question how they might best pass the day: the Lady Elynor seemed desirous to keep her chamber, but Mistress Frances for another purpose seemed desirous to ride abroad thereby to take the open air: they agreed to ride a mile or twain for solace, and requested F. I to accompany them, the which willingly granted. Each one parted from other, to prepare themselves, and now begun the sport, for when F. I was booted, his horses saddled, and he ready to ride, he 'gan miss his Rapier, whereat all astonished he begun to blame his man, but blame whom he would, found it could not be. At last the Ladies going towards horseback called for him in the base Court, and demanded if he were ready: to whom F. 1 answered. Madams I an more than ready, and yet not so ready as I would be, and immediately taking himself in trip, he thought best to utter not more of his conceit, but in haste more than good speed mounted his horse, & coming toward the dames presented himself, turning, bounding, & taking up his courser to the uttermost of his power in bravery: after suffering his horse to breath himself, he 'gan also alloy his own choler, & to the dames he said. Fair Ladies I an ready when it pleaseth you to ride where so you command. How ready soever you be servant, quod dame Elinor, it seemeth your horse is readier at your command than at ours. If he be at my command Mistress (quoth he,) he shallbe at yours. Gramercy good servant (quoth she) but my meaning is, that I fear he be to stirring for our company. If he prove so Mistress quoth F. I I have here a soberer palfrey to serve you on. The Dames being mounted they road forthwardes by the space of a mile or very near, and F. I (whether it were of his horse's courage or his own choler) came not so near them as they wished, at last the Lady Frances said unto him: Master I you said that you had a soberer horse, which if it be so, we would be glad of your company, but I believe by your countenance, your horse & you are agreed. F. I alighting called his servant, changed horses with him, and overtaking the Dames, said to Mistress Frances: And why do you think fair Lady that my horse and I are agreed? Because by your countenance (quoth she) it seems your patience is stirred. In good faith, quod F. I you have guessed a right, but not with any of you. Than we care the less servant, quod Dame Elinor▪ By my troth Mistress. quoth F. I (looking well about him that none might hear but they two) it is with my servant, who hath lost my sword out of my chamber. Dame Elinor little remembering the occasion, replied it is not matter servant, quoth she, you shall hear of it again, I warrant you, and presently we ride in God's peace, and I turst shall have not need of it: yet Mistress quoth he, a weapon serveth both uses, aswell to defend, as to offend. Now by my troth, quod Dame Frances, I have now my dream, for I dreamt this night that I was in a pleasant meadow alone, where I met with a tall Gentleman, appareled in a night gown of silk all embroadered about with a guard of naked swords, and when he came towards me I seemed to be afraid of him, but he recomforted me saying, be not afraid fair Lady, for I use this garment only for mine own defence: and in this sort went that warlike God Mars what time he taught dame Venus to make Vulcan a hamer of the new fashion. Notwithstanding these comfortable words the fright of the dream awaked me, and sithence unto this hour I have not slept at al. And what time of the night dreamt you this quod F. I? In the grey morning about dawning of the day, but why ask you quoth dame Frances? F. I with a great sigh answered, because that dreams are to be marched more at some hour of the night, than at some other, why are you so cunning at the interpretation of dreams servant (quoth the Lady Elynor?) not very cunning Mistress quod F.I. but guess, like a young scholar. The dames continued in these and like pleasant talks: but F. I could not be merry, as one that esteemed the preservation of his Mistress honour not less than the obtaining of his own delights: and yet to avoid further suspicion, he repressed his passions, as much as he could. The Lady Elynor more careless than considerative of her own case, pricking forwards said softly to F. I I had thought you had received small cause servant to be thus dampish, when I would be merry. Alas dear Mistress quod F. I it is altogether for your sake, that I an pensife: dame Frances with courtesy withdrew her sel●e and gave them leave when as F. I declared unto his Mistress, that his sword was taken out of his chamber, and that he dreaded much by the words of the Lady Frances, that she had some understanding of the matter. Dame Elynor now calling to remembrance what had passed the same night, at the first was abashed, but immediately (for these women be readily witted) chered her servant, and willed him to commit unto her the salving of that s●re. Thus they passed the rest of the way in pleasant talk with dame Frances, and so returned towards the Castle where F. I suffered the two dames to go together, and he alone unto his chamber to bewail his own misgovernement. But dame Elynor (whether it were according to old custom, or by wily policy) found mean that night, that the sword was conveyed out of Mistress France's chamber and brought unto hers and after redeliuerie of it unto F. I she warned him to be more wary from that time forthwards: well I devil too long upon these particular points in discoursing this trifling history, but that the same is the more apt mean of introduction to the verses, which I mean to rehearse unto you, and I think you will not disdain to read my conceit with his invention about declaration of his comedy. The next that ever F. I written them, upon any adventure happened between him and this fair Lady, was this as I have herded him say, and upon this occasion. After he grew more bold & better acquainted with his Mistress disposition, he adventured one Friday in the morning to go unto her chamber, and thereupon written as followeth: which he termed a fridays Breakfast. G. T. That self same day, and of that day that hour, When she doth reign, that mocked Vulcan the Smith: And thought it meet to harbour in her bower, Some gallant gest for her to dally with. That blessed hour, that blessed and happy day, I thought it meet, with hasty steps to go: Unto the lodge, wherein my Lady say, To laugh for joy, or else to weep for wo. And lo, my Lady of her wont grace, First lent her lips to me (as for a kiss:) And after that her body to embrace, Wherein dame nature wrought nothing amiss. What followed next, guess you that know the trade, For in this sort, my fridays feast I made. F. I THis Sonnet is short and sweet, reasonably well, according to the occasion &c. Many days passed these two lovers with great delight, their affairs being not less politicly governed, than happily achieved. And surely I have herded F. I affirm in sad earnest, that he did not only love her, but was furthermore so ravished in Ecstasies with continual remembrance of his delights, that he made an Idol of her in his inward conceit. So seemeth it by this challenge to beauty, which he written in her praise and upon her name. G. T. Beauty shut up thy shop, and truss up all thy trash, My Nell hath stolen thy finest stuff, & le●t thee in the lash: Thy market now is marred, thy gains are go god wots, Thou-babes hast not ware, that may compare, with this that I have got▪ As for thy painted pale, and wrinkles surfled up: Are dear enough, for such as lust to drink of every cup: Thy bodies bolstered out, with bombast and with bags, Thy rolls, thy Ruffs, thy cawls, thy coifs, thy jerkins & thy jags. Thy curling and thy cost, thy frizzling & thy fare, To Court to court with all those toys, & there setforth such ware Before their hungry eyes, that gaze on every gest: And choose the cheapest chaffayre still, to please their fancy best. But I whose steadfast eyes, could never cast a glance, With wand'ring look, amid the press, to take my choice by chance Have won by due desert, a piece that hath not peer, And left the rest as refuse all, to serve the market there: There let him choose that list, there catch the best who can: A painted blazing bait may serve, to choke a gazing man. But I have slipped thy flower, that freshest is of hew, I have thy corn, go cell thy chaff, I list to seek not new: The windows of mine eyes, are glazed with such delight, As each new face seems full of faults, that blazeth in my sight: And not without just cause▪ I can compare her so, Lo here my glove I challenge him, that can, or dare say no. Let Theseus come with club, or Paris brag with brand, To prove how fair their Helen was, that skourg'd the Graecian land: Let mighty Mars himself, come armed to the field: And vaunt dame Venus to defend, with helmet spear & shield This hand that had good hap, my Helen to embrace, Shall have like luck to foil her foes, & daunt them with disgrace. And 'cause them to confess by verdict and by oath▪ How far her lovely looks do steyne the beauties of them both. And that my Helen is more fair than Paris wife, And doth deserve more famous praise, than Venus for her life. Which if I not perform, my l●fe than let me lose, Or else be bond in chains of change to beg for beauties fies. F. I BY this challenge I guess, that either he was than in an 〈…〉 else sure I an now in a lunacy, for it is▪ a prou● challenge made to Beauty herself, and all her companions and ymag●●ing that Beauty having a shop where she utter her wares of all sundry sorts, his Lady had stolen the fine ●away, leaving none behind her, but painting, bolstering, forcing and such like the which in his rage he judgeth good enough to serve the Court: and thereupon grew a great quarrel. When these verses were by the negligence of his Mistress dispersed into sundry hands, and so at last to the reading of a Courtier. Well F. I had his desire if his Mistress liked them, but as I have herded him declare, she grew in ieolosie, that the same were not written by her, because her name was Elynor and not Hellen. And about this point have been divers and sundry opinions, for this and divers other of his most notable Poems, have come to view of the world, although altogether wtout his consent. And some have attributed this praise unto a Helen, who deserved not so well as this dame Elynor should seem to deserve by the relation of F. I and yet never a ba●ell of good herring between them both▪ But that other Helen, because she was and is of so base condition, as may deserve not manner commendation in any honest judgement, therefore I will excuse my friend F. I and adventure my pen in his behalf, that he would never bestow verse of so mean a subject. An● yet some of his acquaintance, being also acquainted (better than I,) that F. I was sometimes acquainted with Helen, have stood▪ in argument with me, that it was written by Helen and not by Elynor. Well F. I told me himself that it was written by this dame Elyno●, and that unto her he thus alleged, that he took it all for one 〈◊〉, or at lest he never read of any Elinor such matter as might sound worthy like commendation for beauty. And in deed, considering that it was in the fi●st beginning of his writings, as then he was not writer of any long continuance comparing also the time that such reports do spread of his acquaintance with Helen▪ it ca●not be written less than six or seven years before he known Hell●ne: marry peradventure if there were any acquaintance between F. I and that Helen afterwards, (the which I dare no● confess) he might adapt it to her name, and so make it serve both their turns, as elder lovers have done before and still do and will do world without end A●en▪ Well by whom he written it I know not, but once I an sure that he written it, for he is not borrower of inventions▪ and this is all that I mean to prove, as one that send you his verses by stealth, and do him double wrong, to disclose unto any man the secret causes why they were devised, but this for your delight I do adventure and to return to the purpose, he sought more certainly to please his Mistress Elynor with this Sonnet written in her praise as followeth. G. T. THE stately Dames of Rome, their Pearls did wear, About their necks to beautify their name: But she (whom I do serve) her peers doth bear, Close in her mouth, and smiling shows the same. Not wonder than, though every word she speaks, A jewel seem● in judgement of the wise▪ Sin●e that her sugared tongue the passage breaks, Between two rocks, bedecked with pearls of price. Her hair of gold, her front of ivory, (A bloody heart within so white a breast) Her teeth of Pearl, lips Ruby, crystal eye, Needs must I honour her above the rest: Since she is formed of none other mould, But Ruby, Crystal, ivory, Pearl, and Gold. F. I OF this Sonnet I an assured that it is but a translation, for I myself have seen the invention of an Italian, and Master I hath a little dylated the same, but not much besides the sense of the first, and the addition very aptly applied: wherefore I cannot condemn his doing therein, and for the Sonnet, were it not a little to much praise (as the Italians do most commonly offend in the superlative) I could the more commend it: but I hope the party to whom it was dedicated, had rather it were much more, than any thing less. Well, thus these two Lovers passed many days in exceeding contentation▪ ● more than speakeable pleasures, in which time F. I did compyle very many verses according to sundry occasions proffered, whereof I have not obtained the most at his hands▪ and the reason that he denied me the same, was that (as he alleged) they were for the most part sauced with a taste of glory, as you know that in such cases a lover being charged with ine●privable joys, and therewith enjoined both by duty and discretion to keep the same covert, can by not means devise a greater consolation, than to commit it into some cyphred words and figured speeches in verse, whereby he feeleth his heart half (or more than half) eased of swelling. For as sighs are some present ease to the pensife mind, even so we found by experience, that such secret of joys doth increase delight. I would not have you construe my words to this ●ffecte, that I think a man cannot sufficiently rejoice in the lucky lots of love, unless he impart the same to others: God forbidden that ever I should enter into such a● heresy, for I have always been of this opinion, that as to be fortunate in love, is one of the most inward contentatious to man's mind of all earthly joys: even so if he do but once bewray the same to any living creature, imemdiatlye either dread of discovering doth bruise his breast with an intolerable burden, or else he léeseth the principal virtue which gave effect to his gladness, not unlike to a Potycaries pot which being filled with sweet ointments or parfumes, doth retain in itself some sent of the same, and being powered out doth return to the former state, hard, harsh, and of small savour: So the mind being fraught with delights, as long as it can keep them secretly enclosed, may continually feed upon the pleasant record thereof as the well willing and ready horse biteth on the bridle, but having once disclosed them to any other, strayghtway we lose the hidden treasure of the same, and are oppressed with sundry doubtful opinions and dreadful conceits. And yet for a man to record unto himself in the inward contemplation of his mind the often remembrance of his late received joys, doth as it were ease the heart of burden, and ad unto the mind a fresh supply of delight, yea and in verse principally (as I conceive) a man may best contrive this way of comfort in himself. Therefore as I have said F. I swymming now in delights did nothing but writ such verse as might accumilate his joys, to the extremity of pleasure, the which for that purpose he kept from me, as one more desirous to seem obscure and defective, than overmuch to glory in his adventures, especially for that in the end his hap was as heavy, has hitherto he had been fortunate, among other I remembered one happened upon this occasion. The husband of the Lady Elynor be-being all this while absent from her, 'gan now return, & kept Cut at home, with whom F.I. found means so to ensignuate himself, that familiarity took deep ●oot● between them, and seldom but by ●●elth you could ●●nde the one out of the others company. On a time the knight riding on hunting desired F. I to accompany him, the which he could not refuse to do, but like a lusty younker, ready at all assays, appareled himself in green, and about his neck a Bugle, pricking & gallowping among the foremost, according to the manor of that country. And it chanced that the married Knight thus gallowping lost his horn, which some divines might have interpreted to be but moulting, & that by God's grace, he might have a new come up again shortly in stéede of that. Well, he came to F. I requiring him to lend him his▪ Beugle, for (said the Knight) I hard you not blow this day, and I would fain encourage the hounds, if I had a horn. Quod F. I although I have not been over lavishe of my coming hitherto, I would you should not doubt but that I can tell how to use a horn well enough, and yet I may little do if I may not lend you a horn, and therewithal took his Beugle from his neck, and lent it to the Knight, who making in unto the hounds, 'gan assay to rechate: but the horn was to hard for him to wind, whereat F. I took pleasure, and said to himself, blow till thou break that: I made thee one with in these few days, that thou will't never crack while thou livest. And hereupon (before the fall of the Buck) devised this Sonnet following, which at his home coming he presented unto his mistress. G. T. As some men say there is a kind of seed Will grow to horns if it be sowed thick: Wherewith I thought to try if I could breed A brood of buds, well sharped on the prick: And by good proof of learned skill I found, (As on some special soil all seeds best frame) So jealous brains do breed the battle ground, That best of all might serve to bear the same. Than sought I forth to found such suppling soil, And called to mind thy husband had a brain, So that percase, by travail and by toil, His fruitful front might turn my seed to gain: And as I groped In that ground to sow it, Start up a horn, thy husband could not blow it. F.I. THis Sonnet treateth of a strange seed, but it tasteth most of Rye, which is more common among men nowadays: well let it pass among the rest, & he that liketh it not, turn over the leaf to another, I doubt not but in this register he may found some to content him, unless he be to curious: and here I will surcease to rehearse any more of his verses, until I have expressed how that his joys being now exalted to the highest degree, begun to bend towards declination. For now the unhappy Secretary whom I have before remembered, was returned from London, on whom F.I. had not sooner cast his eyes, but immediately he fell into a great passion of mind, which might be compared unto a fever. This fruit grew of the good instructions that his Hope had planted in his mind, whereby I might take just occasion to forewarn every lover, how they suffer this venomous serpent jealousy to creep into their conceits: for surely, of all other diseases in love, I suppose that to be uncurable, and would hold longer discourse therein, were it not that both this tale and the verses of F. I himself hereafter to be recited, shallbe sufficient to speak for me in this behalf. The lover (as I say upon the sudden) was droven into such a malady, as not meat might nourish his body, not delights please his mind, not remembrance of joys forepast content him, nor any hope of the like to come might recomfort him: hereat (some unto whom I have imparted this tale) have taken occasion to discommend his fainting heart, yet surely the cause inwardly, & deeply considered, I cannot so lightly condemn him, for an old saying is, that every man can give council better than follow it: and needs must the conflicts of his thoughts be strange, between the remembrance of his forepast pleasure, and the present sight of this monster whom before (for lack of like instruction) he had not so thoroughly marked and beh●l●. Well, such was the grief unto him, that he become sickly and kept his chamber. The Ladies having received the news thereof, 'gan all at once lament his misfortune, and of common consent agreed to visit him: they marched thither in good equipage, I warrant you, and found F. I lying upon his bed languishing, whom they all saluted generally, and sought to recomforte, but especially his Mistress, having in her hand a branch of willow, wherewith thee defended her from the hot air, 'gan thus say unto him: Servant (quoth she) for that I suppose your malady to proceed of none other cause but only slothfulness, I have brought this preaty rod to beat you a little: nothing doubting, but when you feel the smart of a twig or twain, you will like a tractable young scholar, pluck up your quickened spirits, & cast this drowsiness apart. F. I with a great sigh answered: Alas good Mistress (quoth he) if any like chastisement might quicken me, how m●ch more might the presence of all you lovely Dames? recomfort my dulled mind whom to behold▪ were sufficient to revive an eye now dazzled with the dread of death, and that not only for the heavenly aspects which you represent, but also much the more for your exceeding courtesy, in that you have deigned to visit me so unworthy a servant: But good Mistress (quoth he) as it were shame for me to confess that ever my heart could yield for fear, so I assure you that my mind cannot be content to induce infirmity by sluggish conceit: But in truth Mistress I an sick (quoth he), and there withal the trembling of his heart had sent up such throbbing into his throat, as that his voice (now deprived of breath) commanded the tongue to be still. When Dame Elynor for compassion distilled into tears, and drawn towards the window, leaving the other Gentlewomen about his bed, who being not less sorry for his grief, yet for that they were none of them so touched in their secret thoughts, they had bolder spirits and fréeer speech to recomfort him: amongst the rest the Lady Frances, (who in deed loved him deeply, and could best conjecture the cause of his conceits) said unto him: Good Trust (quoth she) if any help of Physic may cure your malady, I would not have you hurt yourself with these doubts which you seem to retain: If choice of Diet may help, behold us here (your cooks) ready to minister all things needful: if company may drive away your annoy, we mean not to leave you solitary: if grief of mind be cause of your infirmity, we all here will offer our devoir to turn it into joy: if mishap have given you cause to fear or dread any thing, remember Hope, which never faileth to recomfort an afflicted mind. And good Trust (quoth she) (distreining his hand right heartily) let this simple proof of our poor good wills be so accepted of you, as that ●t may work thereby the effect of our desires. F. I (as one in a trance) had marked very little of her courteous talk, and yet gave her thanks, and so held his peace: whereat the Ladies (being all amazed) there become a silence in the chamber on all sides. Dame Elynor fearing thereby that she might the more easily be espied, and having now dried up her tears, returned to F. I recomforting him by all possible means of common courtesy, promising that since in her sickness he had not only staunched her bleeding, but also by his gentle company and sundry devices of honest pastime had dryuē away the pensiveness of her mind, she thought herself bond with like willingness to do her best in any thing that might restore his health? and taking him by the hand said further: Good servant, if thou bear in deed any true affection to thy poor Mistress, start upon thy feet again, and let her enjoy thine accustomed service to her comfort, for sure (quoth she) I will never leave to visit this chamber once in a day, until I may have thee down with me. F. I hearing the hearty words of his Mistress, and perceiving the earnest manner of her pronunciation, begun to receive unspeakable comfort in the same, and said. Mistress, your exceeding courtesy were able to revive a man half dead, and to me it is both great comfort, and it doth also galled my remembrance with a continual smart of mine own unworthiness: but as I would desire not longer life, than till I might be able to deserve some part of your bounty, so I will ende●our myself to live, were it but only unto that end, that I might merit some part of your favour with acceptable service, and requited some deal the courtesy of all these other fair Ladies, who have so far (above my deserts) deigned to do me good. Thus said, the Ladies tarried not long before they were called to Evensong, when his Mistress taking his hand, kissed it saying: Farewell good servant, and I pray thee suffer not the malice of thy sickness to overcome the gentleness of thy good heart. F.I. ravished with joy, suffered them all to departed, and was not able to pronounce one word. After their departure, he 'gan cast in his mind the exceeding courtesy used towards him by them all: but above all other the bounty of his Mistress, and therewithal took a sound and firm opinion, that it was not possible for her to sergeant so deeply (as in deed I believe that she than did not) whereby he suddenly felt his heart greatly eased, and begun in himself thus to reason. Was ever man of so wretched a heart? I an the most bound to love (quoth he) of all them that ever professed his service, I enjoy one the fairest that ever was found, and I found her the kindest that ever was herded of: yet in mine own wicked heart I could villaynously conceive that of her, which being compared with the rest of her virtues is not possible to harbour in so noble a mind. Hereby I have brought myself without cause into this feebleness, and good reason that for so high an offence I should be punished with great infirmity: what shall I than do? yield to the same? not, but according to my late protestation I will recomfort this languishing mind of mine, to the end I may live but only to do penance for this so notable a crime so rashly committed: and thus saying, he start from his bed, and 'gan to walk towards the window: but the venomous serpent which (as before I rehearsed) had stung him, could not be content that these medicines applied by the mouth of his gentle Mistress, should so soon restore him to guerison. And although in deed they were such Mythrydate to F. I as that they had now expelled the rancour of the poison, yet that ugly hellish monster had left behind her in the most secret of his bosom, (even between the mind and the man) one of her familiars named Suspect, which 'gan work in the weak spirits of F. I efects of not less peril than before he had conceived: his head swelling with these troublesome toys, and his heart swimming in the tempests of tossing fantasy: he felt his legs so feeble, that he was constrained to lie down on his bed again, and repeating in his own remembrance every word that his Mistress had spoken unto him, he 'gan to dread, that she had brought the willow branch to beat him with, in token that he was of her forsaken: for so lovers do most commonly expound the will● we garland, and this to think, did cut his heart in twain. A wonderful change: and here a little to stay you, I will describe (for I think you have not read it in Ariosto) the beginning, the fall, the return, and the buying of this hellish bird, who in deed may well be counted a very limb of the Devil. Many years since, one of the most dreadful dastards in the world, and one of them that first devised to wear his beard at length, lest the barber might do him a good turn sooner than he looked for it, and yet not so soon as he deserved, had builded for his security a pile on the highest and most inaccessible mount of all his Territories: the which being fortified with strong walls, and environed with deep ditches, had not place of entry, but one only door so straight and narrow, as might by any possibility receive the body of one living man, from which he ascended up a ladder, & so creeping through a marvelous straight hole, attained to his lodging, the which was so dark & obscure, as scarcely either sun or air could enter into it: thus he devised to lodge in safety, and for the more surety 'gan trust none other letting down this ladder but only his wife, and at the foot thereof kept always by day light, a fierce masti● close enkeneled which never saw nor herded the face or voice of any other creature but only of them two, him by night he trusted with the scout of this pretty passage, having nevertheless between him and this dog, a double door with triple locks, quadriple bars: and before all a port coulez of Iron: neither yet could he be so hardy as to sleep until he had caused a guard of servants (whom he kept abroad for that purpose) to search all the corners adjoining to his fortress, and than between fearful sweat and chyuering cold, with one eye open and the other closed, he stolen sometimes a broken sleep, divided with many terrible dream's. In this sort the wretch lived all to long, until at last his wife being not able any longer to support this hellish life, grew so hardy, as with his own knife to dispatch his carcase out of this earthly purgatory: the which being done his soul (and good reason) was quickly conveyed by Carone unto hell: there Radamanthus' judge of that bench, commanded him quickly to be thrust into a boiling pool: and being therein plonged very often, he never shrieked or cried, I scaled, as his other companions there cried, but seemed so lightly to esteem it, that the judge thought meet to condemn him unto the most terrible place, where are such torments, as neither pen can writ, tongue express, or thought conceive: but the miser (even there) seemed to smile and to make small account of his punishment. Radamanthus' hereof informed▪ sent for him, and demanded the cause why he made so light of his durance? he answered that whiles he lived on earth, he was so continually afflicted and oppressed with suspicion, as that now (only to think that he was out of those meditations) was sufficient armour to defend him from all other torments. Radamanthus' astonished hereat, 'gan call together the Senators of that kingdom, and propounded this question, how & by what punishment they might devise to touch him according to his deserts? and herupon fallen great disputation, at last being considered that he had already been plonged in the most unspeakable torments, & thereat little or nothing had changed countenance, therewithal that not soul was sent unto them to be relieved of his smart, but rather to be punished for his former delights: it was concluded by the general council, that he should be eftsoons sent into the world & restored to the same body wherein he first had his resiance, so to remain for perpetuity, and never to departed nor to perish. Thus this body and soul being once again united, and now eftsoons with the same pestilence infected, he become of a suspicious man Suspicion itself: and now the wretch remembering the treason of his wife, who had so willingly dispatched him once before, 'gan utterly abhor her and fled her company, searching in all countries some place of better assurance: and when he had in vain trodden on the most part of the earth, he embarked himself to found some unknown Island wherein he might frame s●me new habitation, and finding none so commodious as he desired, he fortuned (sailing along by the shore) to espy a rock, more than six hundredth Cubits high, which hung so suspiciously over the seas, as though it would threaten to fall at every little blast: this did Suspicion Imagine to be a fit foundation whereon he might build his second Bower: he forsook his boat, and travailed by land to espy what entry or access might be made unto the same, and found from land not manner of entry or access, unless it were that some courteous Bird of the air would be Ambassador, or convey some Engines, as whilom the Eagle did carry Ganymedes into heaven. He than returned to Seas, and approaching near to his rock, found a small stream of fresh water issuing out of the same into the Seas: the which, although it were so little and so strait, as might vnethes receive a boat of bigness to carry one living creature at once, yet in his conceit he thought it more large and spacious than that broad way called of our forefathers Via appia, or than that other named Flaminia: he abandoned his bark, and putting of his clotheses, adventured (for he was now assured not to drown) to wade and swim against the stream of this unknown brook, the which (a wondrous thing to tell, and scarcely to be believed) came down from the very top and height of this rock: and by the way he found six strait & dangerous places, where the water seemed to stay his course, passing under six strait and low bridges, and hard by every of those places, a pile raised up in manner of a Bulworke, the which were hollow, in such sort as lodgings and other places necessary might in them commodiously be devised, by such one as could endure the hellishnes of the place. Passing by these he attained with much pain unto the top of the Rock, the which he found hollowed as the rest, and far more fit for his security, than otherwise apt for any commodity. There 'gan suspicion determine to nestle himself, and having now placed six choose porters, to wit, (Dread, Mistrust, Wrath, Desperation, Frenzy, and Fury:) at these six strange bulwarks, he lodged himself in the seven. all alone, for he trusted not company, but ever mistrustinge that his wife should eftsoons found him out, therein he shrieketh continually like to a shrich owl to keep the watch waking, never content to sleep by day or by night. But to be sure that he should not over sleep himself, 'gan stuff his ●ouch with Porpentines quills, to the end that when heavy sleep overcame him, and he thereby should be constrained to charge his pallad with more heavy burden, those plumes might than prick through and so awake him. His garments were steel upon Iron, and that Iron upon Iron, and Iron again, and the more he was armed, the less he trusted to be out of danger. He chopped and changed continually now this, now that, new keys, new locks, ditches new skowred, and walls newly fortified, and thus always uncontented liveth this wretched hellhound Suspicion in this hellish dungeon of habitation, from whence he never removeth his foot, but only in the dead & silent nights, when he may be assured that all creatures (but himself) are whelmed in sound sleep. And than with stealing steps he stalketh about the earth, enfecting, tormenting, and vexing all kinds of people with some part of his afflictions, but especially such as either do sit in chair of greatest dignity and estimation, or else such as have achieved some dear and rare emprise: Those above all others he continually galdeth with fresh wounds of dread, lest they might lose and forego the rooms whereunto with such long travail and good haps they had attained, and by this means percase he had crept into the bosom of F.I. who (as is before declared) did erst swim in the deepest seas of earthly delights. Now then I must think it high time to return unto him, who being now through feebleness eftsoons cast down upon his be●, 'gan cast in his inward meditations all things passed, and as one thoroughly puffed up and filled with one péeuishe conceit, could think upon nothing else, and yet accusing his own guilty conscience to be infected with jealousy, did compyle this translation of Ariosto's xxxi. song as followeth. WHat state to man, so sweet and pleasant w●re, As to be tied, in links of worthy love? What life so blessed and happy might appear, As for to serve Cupid that God above? If that our minds were not sometimes infect, With dread, with fear, with care, with cold suspect▪ With deep despair, with furious frenzy, Handmaids to her, whom we call iellosie. For every other sop of sour chance, Which lovers taste amid their sweet delight: Increaseth joy, and doth their love advance, In pleasure's place, to have more perfect plight. The thirsty mouth thinks water hath good taste, The hungry jaws, are pleased, with each repast: Who hath not proved what dearth by wars doth grow, Cannot of peace the pleasant plenties know. And though with eye, we see not every joy▪ Yet may the mind, full well support the same, An absent life long led in great annoy, When presence comes, doth turn from grief to game, To serve without reward is thought great pain, But if despair do not therewith remain, It may be born, for right rewards at last, Follow true service, though they come not fast. Disdains, repulses, finally each ill, Each smart, each pain, of love each bitter taste, To think on them 'gan frame the lovers will, To like each joy, the more that comes at last: But this infernal plague if once it toutche, Or venom once the lovers mind with grudge, All feasts and joys that afterwards befall, The lover counts them light or naught at all. This is that sore, this is that poisoned wound, The which to heal, nor salve, nor ointments serve, Nor charm of words, nor Image can be found, Nor observance of stars can it preserve, Nor all the art of Magic can prevail, Which Zoroaster found for our avail. O cruel plague, above all sorrows smart, With desperate death thou sleast the lovers heart. And me even now, thy gall hath so infect, As all the joys which ever lover found, And all good haps, that ever Troilus sect, Achieved yet above the luckless' ground: Can never sweeten once my mouth with mell, Nor bring my thoughts, again in rest to devil. Of thy mad moods, and of nought else I think, In such like seas, fair Bradamant did sink. F. I THis is the translation of Ariosto his xxxj. song, all but the last staff, which seemeth as an allegory applied to the rest. It will please none but learned ears, he was tied to the invention, troubled in mind &c. So I leave it to your judgement, and return to F.I. who continued on his bed, until his bountiful Mistress with the company of the other courteous dames returned after supper to his chamber, at their first entry: Why how now seruamt (quod dame Elynor) we hoped to have found you on foot? Mistress quod F.I. I have assayed my feet since your departure, but I found them yet unable to suporte my heavy body, and therefore an constrained as you see, to acquaint myself with these pyllowes. Servant said she I an right sorry thereof, but since it is of necessity to bear sickness, I will employ my devoir to allaye some part of your pains, and to refresh your weary limbs with some comfortable matter: and therewithal calling her handmaid, delivered unto her a bounche of pretty little keys, and whispering in her ear, dispatched her towards her chamber. The maid tarried not long, but returned with a little Casket, the which her Mistress took, opened and drawn out of the same much fine linen, among the which she took a pillowhere very fine and sweet, which although it were of itself as sweet as might be, being of long time kept in that odoriferous chest, yet did she with damask water (and that the best that might be I warrant you) all to sprinkle it with her own hands, which in my conceit might much amend the matter. Than calling for a fresh pyllowe, sent her maid to air the same, and at her return put on this, thus perfumed pillowheare. In mean time also she had with her own hands attired her servants head in a fair wrought kerchif taken out of the same Casket, than laid him down upon this fresh and pleasant place, and prettily as it were in sport, bedewed his temples with sweet water which she had ready in a casting bottle of Gold, kissing his cheek and saying: Good servant be whole, for I might not long endure thus to attend thee, and yet the love that I bear towards thee, cannot be content to see thee languish: Mistress said F.I. (and that with a trembling voice) assure yourself, that if there remain in me any spark of life or possibility of recovery, than may this excellent bounty of yours be sufficient to revive me without any further travail or pain unto your person, for whom I an highly to blame, in that I do not spare to put you unto this trouble: and better if were that such a wretch as I had dyed unknown, than they by your exceeding courtesy you should fall into any malady, either by resorting unto me, or by these your pains taken about me. Servant (quoth she) all pleasures seem painful to them that take not delight therein, and likewise all toil seemeth pleasant to such as set their felicity in the same, but for me be you sure, I do it with so good a will that I can take not hurt thereby, unless I shall perceive that it be rejected or neglected, as unprofitable or uncomfortable unto you. To me Mistress quod F.I. it is such pleasure, as neither my feeble tongue can express, nor my troubled mind conceive. Why? are you troubled in mind than servant quoth dame Elynor? F. I now blushing answered, but even as all sick men be Mistress. Herewith they stayed their talk a while, and the first that broke silence was the Lady Frances, who said: and to drive away the troubles of your mind good Trust, I would be glad if we could devise some pastime among us to keep you company, for I remember that with such devises you did greatly recomfort this fair Lady when she languished in like sort. She languished in deed gentle Hope, quod F.I. but God forbidden that she had languished in like sort. Every body thinketh their grief greatest quoth dame Elynor, but in deed whether my grief were the more or the less, I an right sorry that yours is such as it is: And to assay whither our passions proceeded of like cause or not, I would we could (according to this Ladies saying) devise some like pastimes to try if your malady would be cured with like medicines. A gentle woman of the company whom I have not hitherto named, and that for good respects, lest her name might altogether disclose the rest, 'gan thus propound. We have accustomed (quoth she) heretofore in most of our games to choose a King or Queen, and he or she during their government have charged every of us either with commandments or questions as best seemed to their majesty: wherein to speak mine opinion we have given over large a scope, neither seemeth it reasonable that one should have the power to discover the thoughts▪ or at lest to bridle the affects of all the rest. And though in deed in questioning (which doth of the twain more nearly touch the mind) every one is at free liberty to answer what they list: yet often have I herded a question demanded in such sort, and upon such sudden, that it hath been hardly answered without moving matter of contention. And in commands also, sometimes it happeneth one to be commanded unto such service, as either they are unfit to accomplish (and than the party's weakness is thereby detected) or else to do something that they would not, whereof ensueth more grudge than game. Wherhfore in mine opinion, we shall do well to choose by lot among us a governor, who for that it shallbe sufficient pre-eminence to use the chair of majesty, shallbe bond to give sentence upon all such arguments and questions as we shall orderly propound unto them, and from him or her (as from an oracle) we will receive answer, and decyding of our lytigious causes. This dame had stuff in her, an old courtier, and a wily wench, whom for this discourse I will name Pergo, lest her name natural were to broad before, and might not drink of all waters. Well this proportion of Pergo pleased them well, and by lot it happened that F.I. must be moderator of these matters, and collector of these causes: the which being so constituted, the Lady Elynor said unto this dame Pergo. You have devised this pastime (quoth she) & because we think you to be most expert in the handling thereof, do you propound the first question, & we shallbe both the more ready and able to follow your example: the Lady Pergo refused not, but begun on this wise. Noble governor (quoth she) among the adventures that have befallen me, I remember especially this one, that in youth it was my chance to be beloved of a very courtlike young gentleman, who abode near the place wherein my parents had their resiaunce. This gentleman whether it were for beauty▪ or for any other respect that he saw in me, I know not, but he was enamoured of me, & that with an exceeding vehement passion, & of such force were his affects, that notwithstanding many repulses which he had received at my hands, he seemed daily to grow in the renewing of his desires. I on the otherside, although I could by not means mislike of him by any good reason, considering that he was of birth not way inferior unto me, of possessions not to be disdeyned, of parson right comely, of behauyour Courtly, of manners modest, of mind liberal, and of virtuous disposition: yet such was the gaitie of my mind, as that I could not be content to lend him over large thongs of my love, but always dangerously behaved myself towards him, and in such sort, as he could neither take comfort of mine answers, nor yet once find himself requited with one good look for all his travail. This notwithstanding, the worthy Knight continued his suit with not less vehement affection than erst he had begun it, even by the space of seven years. At the last, whether discomfited by my dealings, or tired by long travail, or that he had percase light upon the lake that is in the forest of Ardena, and so in haste and all thirsty, had drunk some drops of disdain, whereby his hot flames were quenched, or that he had undertaken to serve not longer but his just term of apprenticehode, or that the teeth of time had gnawn and tired his dulled spirits in such sort, as that all béenommed he was constrained to use some other artificial balm for the quickening of his senses, or by what cause moved I know not, he did not only leave his long continued suit, but (as I have since perceyed) grew to hate me more deadly than before I had disdained him. At the first beginning of his retire I perceived not his hatred, but imagined that being over wearied he had withdrawn himself for a time. And considering his worthiness, therewithal his constancy of long time proved, I thought that I could not in the whole world found out a fit match to bestow myself, than on so worthy a person, wherefore I did by all possible means procure that he might eftsoons use his accustomed repair unto my parents: And further, in all places where I happened to meet him, I used all the courtesies towards him that might be contained within the bonds of modesty, but all was in vain, for he was now become more dangerous to be won, than the haggard Falcon. Our lots being thus unluckily changed, I grew to burn in desire, and the more dangerous that he showed himself unto me, the more earnest I was by all means to procure his consent of love. At the last I might perceive that not only he disdained me, but as me thought boiled in hatred against me: and the time that I thus continued tormented with these thoughts, was also just the space of seven years. Finally when I perceived not remedy for my parplexities, I assayed by absence to wear away this malady, and therefore utterly refused to come in his presence, yea or almost in any other company, whereby I have consumed in lost time the flower of my youth, and an become as you see (what with years, and what with the tormenting passions of love) pale, wan, and full of wrinkles, nevertheless, I have thereby gained thus much, that at last I have word myself clear out of Cupid's chains, and remain careless at liberty. Now mark to what end I tell you this: first seven. years passed in the which I could never be content to yield unto his just desires: next other seven. years I spent in seeking to recover his lost love: and sithence both those seven. years, there are even now on saint Valentine's day last, other seven. years passed, in the which (neither I have desired to see him) nor he hath coveted to hear of me. My parents now perceiving how the crows foot is crept under mine eye, and remembering the long suit that this gentleman had in youth spent on me, considering therewithal that green youth is well mellowed in us both, have of late sought to persuade a marriage between us, the which the Knight hath not refused to hear of, and I have not disdained to think on: by their mediation we have been eftsoons brought to Parley, wherein over and besides the ripping up of many old griefs, this hath been chief rehearsed & objected between us, what wrong and injury each of us hath done to other, and hereabouts we have fallen to sharp contention: he alleged, that much greater is the wrong which I have done unto him, than that repulse which he hath sithence used to me: and I have affirmed the contrary, the matter yet hangs in variance. Now, of you worthy Governor I would be most glad to hear this question decided, remembering that there was not difference in the times between us: and surely, unless your judgement help me, I an afraid my marriage willbe marred, and I may go lead Apes in hell. F. I answered, good Pergo, I an sorry to hear so lamentable a discourse of your luckless' love, and much the sorier, in that I must needs give sentence against you: for surely great was the wrong that either of you have done to other, and greater was the peerless grief which causeless each of you hath conceived in this long time, but greatest in my judgement hath been both the wrong and the grief of the Knight, in that notwithstanding his deserts (which yourself confess) he never enjoyed any guerdone of love at your hands: And you (as you allege) did enjoy his love of long time together, so that by the reckoning, it will fall out (although being blinded in your own conceit) you see it not, that of the one & twenty years you enjoyed his love seven. at the lest, but that ever he enjoyed yours we cannot perceive. And much greater is the wrong that rewardeth evil for good, than that which requires tip for tap: further, it seemed that where as you went about in time to try him, you did altogether lose time which can never be recovered: and not only lost your own time, whereof you would seem now to lament, but also compelled him to lose his time, which he might (be it spoken without offence to you) have bestowed in some other worthy place: and therefore, as that grief is much greater which hath not kind of comfort to alloy it, so much more is that wrong which altogether without cause is offered. And I (said Pergo) must needs think, that much easier is it for them to endure grief which never tasted of joy, and much less is that wrong which is so willingly proffered to be by recompense restored: for if this Knight will confess that he never had cause to rejoice in all the time of his s●ruice, than with better contentation might he abide grief than I, who having tasted of the delight which I did secretly conceive of his deserts, do think each grief a present death by the remembrance of those forepast thoughts: & less wrong seemeth it to be destitut of the thing which was never obtained, than to be deprived of a jewel whereof we have been already possessed: so that under your correction I might conclude, that greater hath been my grief & injury sustained, than that of the Knight. To whom F.I. replied, as touching delight, it may not be denied but that every lover doth take delight in the inward contemplation of his mind, to think of the worthiness of his beloved, & therefore you may not allege that the Knight had never 'cause to rejoice, unless you will altogether condemn yourself of unworthiness: Marry if you will say that he tasted not the delights that lovers seek, than mark, who was the cause but yourself? And if you would accuse him of like ingratitude, for that he disdained you in the latter seven. years, when as he might by accepting your love, have recompensed himself of all former wrongs you must remember there withal, that the cruelty by you showed towards him was such, that could by not means perceive that your change proceeded of good will, but rather eftsoons to hold him enchained in unknown links of subtle deal, & therefore not without cause he doubted you: & yet without cause you rejected him. He had often sought occasion, but by your refusals he could never found him: you having occasion fast by the foretop did dally with him so long, till at last he slipped his head from you, & than catching at the bald nodd●e, you found yourself the cause, & yet you would accuse another. To conclude, greater is the grief that is sustained without desert, and much more is the wrong that is offered without cause. Thus F. I decided the question propounded by Pergo, & expected that some other Dame should propound another: but his mistress (having her hand on another halfpenny) 'gan thus say unto him. Servant this pastime is good, and such as I must needs like of, to drive away your pensive thoughts: but sleeping time approacheth, & I fear we disquiet you, wherefore the rest of this time we will (if so like you) bestow in trimming up your bed and to morrow we shall meet here and renew this new begun game with Madam Pergo. Mistress (quoth F. 1) I must obey your will, and most humbly thank you of your great goodness, and all these Ladies for their courtesy: Even so, requiring you that you will not further trouble yourselves about me, but let my servant alone with conducting me to bed. Yes servant (quoth she) I will see if you can sleep any better in my sheeets: and therewith commanded her handmaid to fetch a pair of clean sheeets, the which being brought (marvelous fine and sweet) the Ladies Frances and Elyn●r did courteously unfold them, and laid them on the bed, which done, they also entreated F. I to unclothe him and go to bed: being laid, his Mistress dressed and couched the clotheses about him, sithens moistened his temples with rose-water, gave him handkerchewes and other fresh linen about him, in doing whereof, she whispered in his ear, saying: Servant, this night I will be with thee, and after with the rest of the Dames gave him good night and departed, leaving F. I in a trance between hope and despair, trust and mistrust. Thus he lay ravished, commanding his servant to go to bed, and feigning that himself would assay if he could sleep. About ten or eleven of the clock came his Mistress in her night gown, who knowing all privy ways in that house very perfectly, had conveyed herself into F. I chamber, unseen and vnperceyued, and being now come unto his bed's side kneeled down, and laying her arm over him said these or like words: My good Servant, if thou knewest what perplexities I suffer in beholding of thy infirmities, it might than suffice, either utterly to drive away thy malady, or much more to augment thy griefs: for I know thou lovest me, and I think also that thou hast had sufficient proof of mine unfeigned good will, in remembrance whereof, I fall into sundry passions: First, I count the happy lots of our first acquaintance, and therein I call to mind the equality of our affections, for I think that there were never two lovers conjoined with fréeer consent on both parties: and if my overhasty delivery of yielding words be not wrested hereafter to my condemnation, I can than assure myself to escape for ever without desert of any reproof: herewithal I can not forget the sundry adventures happened since we become one heart divided in two bodies, all which have been both happily achieved, and delectably enjoyed: what rests than to consider but this thy present state? The first corrosive that I have felt, and the last cordial that I look for, the end of my joys, and the beginning of my torments, and hereat her salt tears 'gan bathe the dying lips of her servant: who hearing these words, and well considering her demeanour, begun now to accuse himself of such and so heinous treason, as that his guilty heart was constrained to yield unto a just scourge for the same. He swooned under her arm: the which when she perceived, it were hard to tell what fears did most affright her. But I have herded my friend F. I confess, that he was in a happy trance, and thought himself for divers causes unhappily revived. For surely I have herded him affirm, that to die in such a passion▪ had ben rather pleasant, than like to pangs of death. It were hard now to rehearse how he was revived, since there were none present, but he dying, (who could not declare) & she living, who wold not disclose so much as I mean to bewray. For my friend F.I. hath to me imported, that returning to life, the first thing which he felt, was that his good mistress lay pressing his with the whole weight of her body, and biting his lips with her friendly teeth: and peradventure she refrained (either of courtesy towards him, or for womanish fear, to hurt her tender hand) to strike him on the cheeks in such sort, as they do that strive to call again a dying creature: and therefore thought this the aptest mean to reduce him unto remembrance. F.I. now awaked, could not less do, than of his courteous nature receive his Mistress into his bed: Who, as one that known that way better, than how to help his swooning, 'gan gently strip of her clotheses, and lovingly embracing him, 'gan demand of him in this sort. Alas good Servant (quoth she) what kind of malady is this that so extréemely doth torment thee? F.I. with fainting speech answered: Mistress, as for my malady, it hath been easily cured by your bountiful medicines applied: But I must confess, that in receiving that guerison at your hands, I have been constrained to fall into an Ecstasy, through the galding remembrance of mine own unworthiness: Nevertheless good Mistress, since I perceive such fidelity remaining between us, as that few words will persuade such trust as lovers aught to embrace, let these few words suffice to crave your pardon, and do eftsoons power upon me (your unworthy servant) the haboundant waves of your accustomed clemency: for I must confess, that I have so highly offended you, as (but your goodness surpass the malice of my conceits) I must remain (and that right worthily) to the severe punishment of my deserts: and so should you but lose him who hath cast away himself, and neither can accuse you, nor dare excuse himself of the crime. Dame Elynor, who had rather have found her servant perfectly revived, than thus with strange conceits encumbered: and musing much at his dark speech, become importunate to know the certainty of his thoughts. And F.I. as one not master of himself, 'gan at the last plainly confess how he had mistrusted the change of her vowed affections: Yea and (that more was) he plainly expressed with whom, of whom, by whom, and too whom she bend her better liking. Now, here I would demand of you and such other as are expert: Is there any geater impediment to the fruition of a lovers delights, than to be mistrusted? or rather, is it not the ready way to raze all love and former good will out of remembrance, to tell a guilty mind that you do mistrust it? It should seem yes, by Dame Elynor, who begun now to take the matter whottely, and of such vehemency were her fancies, that she now fallen into flat defiance with F. I who although he sought by many fair words to temper her chollerike passions, and by yielding himself to ●et the conquest of an other, yet could he by not means determine the quarrel. The soft pillows being present at all these hot words, put forth themselves as mediators for a truce between these enemies, and desired that (if they would needs fight) it might be in their presence but only one push of the pike, and so from thenceforth to become friends again for ever. But the Dame denied flatly, alleging that she found not cause at all to use such courtesy unto such a recreant, adding further many words of great reproach: the which did so encourage F. I as that having now forgotten all former courtesies, he drew upon his new professed enemy, and bore her up with such a violence against the bolster, that before she could prepare the ward, he thrust her through both hands, and &c. whereby the Dame swoning for fear, was constrained (for a time) to abandon her body to the enemy's courtesy. At last when she came to herself, she risen suddenly and determined to save herself by flight, leaving F. I with many dispytefull words, and swearing that he should never (eftsoons) take her at the like advantage, the which oath she kept better than her former professd good will: and having now recovered her chamber (because she found her hurt to be nothing dangerous) I doubt not, but she slept quietly the rest of the night: As F. I also persuading himself that he should with convenient leisure recover her from this hagger conceit, took some better rest towards the morning, than he had done in many night's forepast. So let them both slèepe whiles I turn my pen unto the before named Secretary, who being (as I said) come lately from London, had made many proffers to renew his accustomed consultations: but the sorrow which his Mistress had conceived in F.I. his sickness, together with her continual repair to him during the same, had been such lets unto his attempts, at is was long time before he could obtain audience. At the last these new accidents fallen so favourably for the furtherance of his cause, that he came to his Mistress presence, and there pleaded for himself. Now, if I should at large writ his allegations, together with her subtle answers, I should but cumber your ears with unpleasant rehearsal of feminine frayeltie. To be short, the late disdayneful mood which she had conceyved against F.I. together with a scruple which lay in her conscience, touching the xi. article of her believe, moved her presently with better will to consult with this Secretary, aswell upon a speedy revenge of her late received wrongs as also upon the reformation of her religion. And in very deed, it fallen out that the Secretary having been of long time absent, & thereby his quills & pens not worn so near as they were want to be, did now prick such fair large notes, that his Mistress liked better to sing faburden under him, than to descant any longer upon F. I plain song: and thus they continued in good accord, until it fortuned that Dame Frances came into her chamber upon such sudden as she had like to have marred all the music. Well they conveied their clifs as closely as they could, but yet not altogether without some suspicion given to the said dame Frances, who although she could bave been content to take any pain in F.I. behalf, yet otherwise she would never have bestowed the watching about so wortheles a prize. After womanly salutations they fell into sundry discourses, the Secretaty still abiding in the chamber with them. At last two or three other gentlewomen of the Castle came into Madam Elynors' chamber, who after their Bon iour did all (una voce) seem to lament the sickness of F.I. and called upon the Dames Elinor and Frances, to go visit him again. The Lady Frances courteously consented, but Madam Elinor first alleged that she herself was also sickly, the which she attributed to her late pains taken about F. I and said that only for that cause she was constrained to keep her bed longer than her accustomed hour. The Dames (but especially the Lady Frances) 'gan straight ways conjecture some great cause of sudden change, and so leaving dame Elynor, walked altogether into the park to take the air of the morning: And as they thus walked it chanced that Dame Pergo herded a Cuckoo chant, who (because the pride of the spring was now past) cried Cuck cuck Cuckoo in her stameringe voice. A ha' (quod Pergo) this foul bird begins to fly the country, and yet before her departure, see how spitefully she can devise to salute vs. Not us (quoth Dame Frances) but some other whom she hath espied: wherewith Dame Pergo looking round about her, and espying none other company said. Why here is not body but we few women quoth she. Thanks be to God the house is not far from us (quoth Dame Frances.) Here at the wily Pergo partly perceiving Dame France's meaning replied on this sort: I understand you not (quoth she) but to leap out of this matter, shall we go visit Master F. I and see how he doth this morning? Why quoth dame Frances, do you suppose that the Cuckoo called unto him? Nay marry quod Pergo, for (as far as I know) he is not married. As who should say (quod Dame Frances,) that the Cuckoo envieth none but married folks. I take it so said Pergo: the Lady Frances answered. Yes sure I have noted as evil luck in love (after the cuckoos call) to have happened unto divers unmarried folks, as ever I did unto the married: but I can be well content that we go unto Master. I for I promised on the behalf of us all, that we would use our best devoir to recomfort him until he had recovered health, and I do much marvel that the Lady Elinor is now become so unwilling to take any travail in his behalf, especially remembering that but yesternigh she was so diligent to bring him to bed, but I perceive that all earthly things are subject unto change. Even so they be quod Pergo, for you may behold the trees which but even this other day were clad in gladsome green, and now their leaves begin to fa●e and change colour. Thus they passed talking and walking until they returned unto the Castle, whereas they went strait unto F.I. chamber, & found him in bed: why how now Trust (quoth Dame Frances,) w●ll it be not better? Yes shortly I hope quod F.I. The Ladies all saluted him & he gave them the gramercy: at the last Pergo popped this question unto him. And how have you slept in your Mistress sheeets Master F. I quoth she? reasonable well quod F. I but I pray you where is my Mistress this morning? Marry said Pergo, we left her in bed scarce well at ease. I an the more sorry quod F. I Why Trust (said Mistress Frances) be of good comfort, and assure yourself that here are others who would be as glad of your well doing, as your Mistress in any respect. I aught not to doubt thereof (quod F. I) having the proof that I have had of your great courtesies, but I thought it my duty to ask for my Mistress being absent. Thus they passed some time with him until they were called away unto prayers, and that being finished they went to dinner, where they met Dame Elynor attired in a night kerchief after the soolenest (the solempnest fashion I should have said,) who looked very drowsely upon all folks unless it were her secretary, unto whom she deigned sometime to lend a friendly glance. The Lord of the Castle demanded of her how F.I. did this morning. She answered that she known not, for she had not seen him that day. You may do well than daughter (quoth the Lord) to go now unto him, & to assay if he will eat any thing, & if here be not meats that like him, I pray you command (for him) any thing that is in my house. You must pardon me sir (quoth she,) I an sickly disposed, and would be loath to take the air: why than go you Mistress France (quoth he) and take some body with you: and I charge you see that he lack nothing. Mistress Frances was glad of the ambassade, & arising from the table with one other gentlewoman, took with her a dish of chickens boiled in white broth, saying to her father: I think this meat meetest for Master I of any that is here. It is so (qoud he) daughter, and if he like not that, cause somewhat else to be dressed for him according to his appetite. Thus she departed and came to F. I who being plonged in sundry woes and thrilled with restless thoughts, was now beginning to arise: but sing the Dames, couched down again, and said unto them. Alas fair Ladies you put yourselves to more pains than either I do desire, or can deserve. Good Trust quoth Dame Frances, our pains are not greater than duty requires, nor yet so great as we could vouchsafe in your behalf, and presently my father hath sent us unto you (quoth she) with this pittaunce, and if your appetite desire any one thing more than other, we are to desire likewise that you will not refrain to call for it. O my good Hope (quoth he) I perceive that I shall not die as long as you may make me live. And being now somedeale recomforted with the remembrance of his Mistress words which she had used over night at her first coming, and also thinking that although she parted in choler, it was but justly provoked by himself, and that at leisure he should find some salve for that sore also: he determined to take the comfort of his assured Hope, and so to expel all venomnes of mistrust before received: wherefore raising himself in his bed, he cast a night gown about his shoulders saying: It shall never be said that my fainting heart can reject the comfortable Cordialles of so friendly physicians. Now by my troth well said gentle Trust quod Dame Frances, and in so doing assure yourself of guerison with speed. This thus said, the courteous Dame become his keruer, & he with a bold spirit 'gan taste of her cookery, but the late conflicts of his conceits had so disaquainted his stomach from repastes, that he could not well away with meat: and yet nevertheless by little & little received some nouryture. When his Hope had crammed him as long as she could make him feed, they delivered the rest to the other gentlewoman, who having not dined, fallen to her provander. In which mean while the Lady Frances had much comfortable speech with F.I. and declared that she perceived very well the cause of his malady, but my Trust (quoth she) be all whole, and remember what I foretold you in the beginning: nevertheless you must think that there are remedies for all mischiefs, and if you willbe ruled by mine advise, we will soon found the mean to ease you of this mishap. F. I took comfort in her discretion, and friendly kissing her hand, gave her a cartlode of thanks for her great good will, promising to put to his uttermost force, and evermore to be ruled by her advise. Thus they passed the dinner while, the Lady Frances always refusing to declare her conceit of the late change which she perceived in his Mistress, for she thought best first to win his will unto conformity by little and little, and than in the end to persuade him with necessity. When the other gentlewoman had vytayled her, they departed, requiring F.I. to arise and boldly to resist the faintness of his fever, the which he promised and so bade them a Di●. The Ladies at their return found the court in Dame Elynors' chamber, who had there assembled her secretary, Damn Pergo, and the rest: there they passed an hour or twain in sundry discourses, wherein Dame Pergo did always cast out some bone for Mistress Frances to gnaw upon, for that in deed she perceived her hearty affection towards F. I: whereat Mistress Frances changed not countenance, but reserved her revenge until a better opportunity. At last (quoth Dame Frances unto Mistress Elinor) and when will you go unto your servant fair Lady? When he is sick and I an whole quod Dame Elynor. That is even now quoth the other, for how sick he is yourself can witness: and how well you are we must bear record. You may aswell be deceived in my disposition (quod Dame Elynor) as I was ouerséene in his sudden alteration, and if he be sick you are meetest to be his physician: for you saw yesterday that my pains did little profit towards his recomfort. Yes surely said the other, not only I but all the rest had occasion to judge that your courtesy was his chief comfort. Well quoth Dame Elinor you know not what I know. Nor you what I think quod Dame Frances. Think what you list quod Elynor. In deed quod Frances I may not think that you care, neither will I die for your pleasure: and so half angry she departed. At supper they met again, and the Master of the house demanded of his daughter Frances how F.I. did? Sir (quoth she) he did eat somewhat at dinner, and sithens I see him not. The more to blame quoth he, and now I would have all you gentlewomen take of the best meats and go sup with him: for company driveth away carefulness, and leave you me here with your leauinges alone. Nay sir quod Mistress Elynor, I pray you give me leave to bear you company, for I dare not adventure thither. The Lord of the Castle was contented & dispatched away the rest: who taking with them such vyandes as they thought meetest, went unto F.I. chamber, finding him up, and walking about to recover strength, whereat Dame Frances rejoiced, and declared how her father had sent that company to attend him at supper. F. I gave great thanks, and missing now nothing but his Mistress, thought not good yet to ask for her, but because he partly guessed the cause of her absence, he contented himself, hoping that when his lure was new garnished, he should easily reclaim her from those coy conceits. They passed over their supper all in quiet, and sun after Mistress Frances, being desirous to requited Dame Pergoes quips, requested that they might continued the pastime which Dame Pergo had begun over night: whereunto they all consented, and the lot fallen unto Dame Frances to propound the second question, who addressing her speech unto F. I said in this wise. Noble governor, I will rehearse unto you a strange history, not feigned, neither borrowed out of any old authority, but a thing done in deed of late days, and not far distant from this place where we now remain. It chanced that a gentleman our neighbour being married to a very fair gentlewoman, lived with her by the space of four or five years in great contentation, trusting her not less than he loved her, and yet loving her as much as any man could love a woman. On that otherside the gentlewoman had won (unto her beauty) a singular commendation for her chaste and modest behaviour. Yet it happened in time that a lusty young gentleman (who very often resorted to them) obtained that at her hands▪ which never any man could before him attain: and to be plain, he won so much in her affections, that forgetting both her own duty and her husbands kindness, she yielded her body at the commandment of this lover, in which pastime they passed long time by their politics government. At last the friends of this Lady (and especially three sisters which she had) espied overmuch familiarity between the two lovers, and dreading lest it might break out to their common reproach took their sister apart, and declared that the world did judge scarce well of the repair of that gentleman unto her house: and that if she did not foresee it in time, she should not only lose the good credit which she herself had hitherto possessed, but furthermore should distain their whole race with common obloquy and reproach. These and sundry other godly admonitions of these sisters could not sink in the mind of this gentlewoman, for she did not only stand in defiance what any man could think of her, but also seemed to accuse them, that because they see her estimation (being their younger) to grow above their own, they had therefore devised this mean to set variance between her husband and her. The sisters seeing their wholesome counsel so rejected, and her continued still in her obstinate opinion, addressed their speech unto her husband, declaring that the world judged not the best, neither they themselves did very well like of the familiarity between their sister and that gentleman, and therefore advised him to forecast all perils, and in time to forbidden him his house. The husband (on that otherside) had also conceived such a goo● opinion of his gest, & had grown into such a strict familiarity with him, that you might with more ease have removed a stone brickwall, than once to make him think amiss, either of his wife, or of her lover: Yea and immediately after this conference he would not stick thus to say unto his wife. Bess: (for so in dée●e was her name) thou hast three such busy braided sisters, as I think shortly their heads will break: they would have me to be tellous of thee, not not Bess etc. so that he was not only far from any such belief, but furthermore did every day increase his courtesies towards the lover. The sisters being thus on all sides rejected, and yet perceiving more and more an unseemly behaviour between their sister and her minion, begun to melt in their own grease: and such was their enraged pretence of revenge, that they suborned divers servants in the house to watch so diligently, as that this treason might be discovered. Among the rest, one maid of subtle spirit had so long watched them, that at last she espied them go into a chamber together, and lock the door to them: whereupon she ran with all hast possible to her Master, and told him that if he would come with her, she would show him a very strange sight. The gentleman (suspectinge nothing) went with her until he came into a chamber near unto that wherein they had shut themselves, and she pointing her Master to the keyhole, bade him look through, where he saw the thing which most might mislike him to behold. Where at he suddenly drew his Dagger, and turned towards the maid, who fled from him for fear of mischief: but when he could not over take her in the heat of his choler, he commanded that she should forthwith truss up that little which she had and to departed his service: and before her departure he found means to talk with her, threatening that if ever she spoke any word of this mystery in any place where she should come, it should cost her life. The maid for fear departed in silence, and the Master never changed countenance either to his wife or to her peramour, but feigned unto his wife that he had turned away the maid upon that sudden, for that she had thrown a Kitchen knife at him, whiles he went about to correct a fault in her &c. Thus the good gentleman drank up his own sweat unseen every day, increasing courtesy to the lover, and never changing countenance to his wife in any thing, but only that he refrained to have such knowledge of her carnally as he in times past had, and other men have of their wives. In this sort he continued by the space all most of half a year, nevertheless lamenting his mishap in solitary places. At last (what moved him I know not) he fallen again to company with his wife as other men do, and as I have herded it said he used this policy: every time that he had knowledge of her, he would leave either in the bed, or in her cusshencloth, or by her looking glass, or in some place where she must needs found it, a piece of money which than was fallen to three halfpennies: and I remember they called them Slips. Thus he dealt with her continually by the space of four or five months, using her nevertheless very kindly in all other respects, & providing for her all things necessary at the first call: But unto his jest he still augmented his courtesy, in such sort, that you would have thought them to be sworn brothers. All this notwithstanding his wife much musing at these three half penny pieces which she found in this sort, and furthermore, having sundry times found her husband in solitary places making great lamentation, she grew enquisitiue, what should be the secret cause of these alterations: unto whom he would none otherwise answer, but that any man should find occasion to be more pensive at one time than at another. The wife notwithstanding increasing her suspect, imported the same unto her lover, alleging therewithal that she doubted very much lest her husband had some vehement suspicion of their affairs. The lover encoraged her, & likewise declared, that if she would be importunate to inquire the cause, her husband would not be able to keep it from her: and having now thoroughly instructed her, she dealt with her husband in this sort. One day when she known him to be in his study alone, she came in to him, and having fast locked the door after her, and conveyed the key into her pocked, she begun first with earnest entreaty, and than with tears to crave that he would not longer keep from her the cause of his sudden alteration. The husband dissimuled the matter still: at last she was so earnest to know for what cause he left money in such sort at sundry times, that he answered on this wise: Wife (quoth he) thou knowest how long we have been married together, & how long I made so dear account of thee as ever man made of his wife: since which days, thou knowest also how long I refrained thy company, and how long again I have used thy company leaving the money in this sort, and the cause is this. So long as thou didst behave thyself faithfully towards me, I never loathed thy company, but sithens I have perceived thee to be a harlot, therefore did I for a time refreine and forbear to lie with thee: & now I can not longer forbear it, I do give thee every time that I lie with thee a slip, which is to make thee understand thy own whoredom: and this reward is sufficient for a whore. The wife begun stoutly to stand at defiance, but the husband cut of her speech and declared when, where, and how he had seen it: hereat the woman being abashed, and finding her conscience guilty of as much as he had alleged, fell down on her knees, & with most bitter tears craved pardon, confessing her offence: whereat her husband (moved with pity) & melting likewise in floods of lamentation, recomforted her promising that if from that day forward she would be true unto him, he would not only forgive all that was past, but become more tender & loving unto her than ever he was. What do I tarry so long? they become of accord: & in full accomplishment thereof, the gentlewoman did altogether eschew the company, the speech, & (as much as in her lay) the sight of her lover, although her husband did continued his courtesy to wars him, and often charged his wife to make him fair semblant. The Lover was now only left in perpleritie, who knew nothing what might be the cause of all these changes, & that most grieved him, he could by not means obtain again the speech of his desired: he watched all opportunities, he suborned messengers, he written letters, but all in vain. In the end she caused to be declared unto him a time and place where she would meet him and speak with him. Being met, she put him in remembrance of all that had passed between them: she laid also before him how trusty she had been unto him in all professions: she confessed also how faithfully he had discharged the duty of a friend in all respects, and therewithal she declared that her late alteration and pensiveness of mind was not with out great cause, for that she had of late such a mishap, as might change the disposition of any living creature: Yea and that the case was such, as unless she found present remedy, her death must needs ensue and that speedily: for the preventing whereof, she alleged that she had beaten her brains with all devises possible, and that in the end she could think of not redress but one, the which lay only in him to accomplish. Wherefore she besought him for all the love and good will which passed between them, now to show the fruits of true friendship, and to gratify her with a free grant to this request. The lover who had always been desirous to pleasure her in any thing, but now especially to recover her wonted kindness, 'gan frankly promise' to accomplish any thing that might be to him possible, yea though it were to his great detriment: and therewithal did deeply blame her in that she would so long torment herself with any grief, considering that it lay in him to help it. The Lady answered, that she had so long kept it from his knowledge, because she doubted whether he would be contented to perform it or not, although it was such a thing as he might easily grant without any manner of hurt to himself: & yet that now in the end she was forced to adventure upon his courtesy, being not longer able to bear the burden of her grief the lover solicited her most earnestly to disclose it: and she (as fast) seemed to mistrust that he would not accomplish it. In the end she took out a book (which she had brought for the no●ce) and bond him by oath to accomplish it. The lover mistrusting nothing less than that ensued, took the oath willingly: which don she declared all that had passed between her & her husband: his grief, her repentance, his pardon, her vow, & in the end of her tale enjoined the lover, that from thenceforthwards, he should never attempt to break her constant determination: the lover replied that this was unpossible: but she plainly assured him, that if he granted her that request, she would be his friend in all honest & godly wise: if not, she put him out of doubt that she would eschew his company & fly from his sight as from a scorpion. The lover considering that her request was but just, accusing his own guilty conscience, remembering the great courtesies always used by her husband, & therewithal seeing the case now brought to such an issue, as that by none other means than by this it could be conceiled from knowledge of the world: but most of all, being urged by his oath, did at last give an unwilling consent, & yet a faithful promise to yield unto her will in all things: and thus being become of one assent, he remains the dearest friend & most welcome gest that may be, both to the Lady & her husband, and the man & wife so kind (each to other) as if there never had been such a breach between them. Now, of you noble Governor I would fayn learn, whether the perplexity of the husband when he looked in at the key hole, or of the wife when she knew the cause why the slips were so scattered, or of the lover when he known what was his Mistress charge, was greater of the three? I might have put in also the troubled thoughts of the sisters & the maid, when they saw their good will rejected, but let these three suffice. Gentle Hope (quod F. I) you have rehearsed (& that right eloquently) a notable tale, or rather a notable history, because you seem to affirm, that it was done in deed of late, & not far hence. Wherein I note five especial points: that is a marvelous patience in the husband, not less repentance in the wife, not small boldness of the maid, but much more rashness in the sisters, and last of all, a rare tractabilitie in the lover. Nevertheless to return unto your question, I think the husband's perplexity greatest, because his losses abounded above the rest, & his injuries were uncomparable. The Lady Frances did not seem to contrary him, but rather smiled in her sleeve at Dame Pergo, who had not less patience to hear the tale recited, than the Lady Frances had pleasure in telling of it, but I may not rehearse the cause why, unless I should tell all. By this time the sleeping hour approached, & the Ladies prepared their departure, when as mistress Frances said unto F.I. Although percase I shall not do it so handsomely as your mistress, yet good Trust (quoth she) if you vouchsafe it, I can be content to trim up your bed in the best manner that I may, as one who would be as glad as she to procure your quiet rest. I.F. gave her great thanks desiring her not to trouble hirself, but to let his man alone with that charge: thus they departed, and how all parties took rest that night I know not: but in the morning F.I. begun to consider w t himself that he might lie long enough in his bed before his mistress would be appeased in her péewish conceits: wherefore he arose, & being apparelled in his night gown, took occasion to walk in the gallery near adjoining unto his Mistress chamber: but there might he walk long enough ere his mistress would come to walk with him. When dinner time came he went into the great chamber whereas the Lord of the castle saluted him being joyful of his recovery. F.I. giving dew thanks, declared that his friendly entretainement together with the great courtesy of the gentlewomen was such, as might revive a man although he were half dead. I would be loath (quoth the host) that any gentleman coming to me for good will should want any courtesy of entertainment that lies in my power. When the meat was served to the table, the gentlewomen came in all but Dame Elynor & mistress Pergo, the which F.I. marked very well, & it did somewhat abate his apetit. After dinner, his Hope came unto him and demanded of him how he would pass the day for his recreation? to whom he answered even as it best pleased her. She devised to walk into the park, & so by little & little to acquaint himself with the air: he agreed, & they walked together being accompanied with one or two other gentlewomen. Here (lest you should grow in some wrong conceit of F.I.) I must put you out of doubt, that although there were now more cause that he should mistrust his mistress than ever he had before received, yet the vehement passions which he see in her when the first came to visit him, & moreover, the earnest words which she pronounced in his extremity, were such a refreshing to his mind, as that he determined not more to trouble himself with like conceits: concluding further, that if his mistress were not faulty, them had he committted a foul offence in needless jealousy, & that if she were faulty (especially with the Secretary) them not persuasion could amend her, nor any passion help him: and this was the cause that enabled him after such passing pangs to abide the doubtful conclusion, thus manfully and valiantly to repress feintnesse of his mind: nothing doubting but that he should have won his Mistress to pardon his presumption, & lovingly to embrace his service in wont manner, but he was far deceived, for she was now in another tewne, the which Mistress Frances begun partly to discover unto him as they walked together: for she burdened him that his malady proceeded only of a disquiet mind. And if it did so my gentle Hope (quoth he) what remedy? My good Trust (quoth she) none other but to plant quiet where disquiet begun to grow. I have determined so (quoth he) but I must crave the help of your assured friendship. Thereof you may make account (quoth she) but wherein? F.I. walking apart with her, begun to declare that there was some contention happened between his mistress & him: the Lady told him that she was not ignorant thereof. Than he desired her to treat so much in the cause, as they might eftsoons come to Parley: thereof I dare assure you (quoth Mistress Frances, & at their return she led F.I. into his Mistress chamber, whom they found lying on her bed, whether galded with any grief, or weary of the thing (which you wrote of) I know not, but there she lay: unto whom F.I. gave two or three salutations before she seemed to mark him. At last said the Lady Frances unto her, your servant hearing of your sickness, hath adventured thus far into the air to see you. I thank him (quoth Dame Elynor) & so lay still, refusing to give him any countenance. Whereat F. 1 perceiving all the other gentlewomen fall to whispering, thought good, boldly to pled his own case: & aproching the bed begun to enforce his unwilling mistress unto courtesy, wherein he used such vehemence as she could not well by any means refuse to talk with him: but what their talk was I may not take upon me to tell you, unless you woul● have me fill up a whole volume only with his matters, and I have dilated them over largely already. sufficeth this to be known, that in the end she pretended to pass over all old grudges, & thenceforth to pleasure him as occasion might serve: the which occasion was so long in hapening, that in the end F.I. being now eftsoons troubled with unquiet fantasies, & forced to use his pen again as an Ambassador between them: one day among the rest found opportunity to thrust a letter into her bosom, wherein he had earnestly requested another mooneshyne banquet or fridays breakfast to recomfort his dulled spirits, whereunto the Dame yielded this answer in writing, but of whose endyting judge you. G.T. I can but smile at your simplicity, who burden your friends with an impossibility. The case so stood as I could not though I would. Wherhfore from henceforth either learn to frame your request more reasonably, or else stand content with a flat repulse. SHE. F.I. liked this letter but a little: and being thereby droven into his accustomed vain, he compiled in verse this answer following, upon these words contained in her letter, I could not though I would. G.T. I could not though I would: good Lady say not so, Since one good word of your good will might soon redesse my w● Where would is free before, there could can never fail: For proof, you see how galleys pass where ships can bear not sail. The weary mariner when skies are overcast, By ready will doth guide his skill and wins the haven at last. The pretty bird that sings with prick against her breast, Doth make a virtue of her need to watch when others rest. And true the proverb is, which you have laid apart, There is not hap can seem to hard unto a willing heart. Than lovely Lady mine, you say not as you should, In doubtful terms to answer thus: I could not though I would. Yes, yes▪ full well you know, your can is quick and good: And wilful will is eke too swift to shed my guiltless blood. But if good will were bend as priest as power is, Such will would quickly found the skill to mend that is amiss. Wherefore if you desire to see my true love spilled, Command and I will slay myself, that yours may be the gilt. But if you have not power to say your servant nay, Writ thus: I may not as I would, yet must I as I may. F.I. THus F.I. replied upon his Mistress answer, hoping thereby to recover some favour at her hands, but it would not be: so that now he had been as likely (as at the first) to have fretted in fantasies, had not the Lady Frances continually comforted him: and by little & little she drove such reason into his mind, that now he begun to subdue his humours with discretion, and to determine that if he might espy evident proof of his Mistress frayeltie, he would than stand content with patience perforce, & give his Mistress the Bezo las manos. And it happened one day among others, that he resorted to his Mistress chamber & found her (allo solito) lying upon her bed, & the secretary with Dame Pergo & her handmaid keeping of her company. Whereat F.I. somewhat repining, came to her and fallen to dalliance, as one that had now rather adventure to be thought presumptuous than yield to be accounted bashful, he cast his arm over his Mistress and begun t● accuse her of slogishnes, using some other bold parts, as well to provoke her, as also to grieve the other. The Lady seemed little to delight in his dallying, but cast a glance at her secretary and therewith smiled, when as the Secretary & dame Pergo burst out into open laughter. The which F.I. perceiving, and disdaining her ingratitude, was forced to departed, and in that fantasy compiled this Sonnet. G.T. WIth her in arms that had my heart in hold, I stood of late to pled for pity so: And as I did her lovely looks behold, She cast a glance upon my rival foe. His fleering face provoked her to smile, When my salt tears were drowned in disdain: He glad, I sad, he laughed, (alas the while) I wept for woe: I pined for deadly pain. And when I saw none other boot prevail, But reasons rule must guide my skilful mind: Why than (quoth I) old proverbs never fail, For yet was never good Cat out of kind: Nor woman true but even as stories tell, Woon with an egg, and lost again with shall. F. I THis Sonnet declareth that he begun now to account of her as she deserved, for it hath a sharp conclusion, and it is somewhat too general. Well, as it is he lost it where his Mistress found it, and she immediately emparted the same unto Dame Pergo, and Dame Pergo unto others: so that it quickly become common in the house. Among others Mistress Frances having recovered a copy of it, did seem to pardon the generallitie, and to be well pleased with the perticularitie thereof, the which she bewrayed one day unto F.I. in this wise. Of all the joys that ever I had (my good Trust quoth she) there is none wherein I take more comfort than in your comformitie, and although your present rage is such that you can be content to condemn a number unknown, for the transgression of one too well known: yet I do rather rejoice that you should judge your pleasure over many, than to be abused by any. My good Hope (quoth he) it were not reason that after such manifold proofs of your exceeding courtesies, I should use strange or contentious speech with so dear a friend, and in deed I must confess that the opinion which I have conceived of my Mistress, hath stirred my pen to writ very hardly against all the feminine gender, but I pray you pardon me (quoth he) & if it please y●u I will recant ●●tass also (percase) I was but cloyed with Surquedry, and presumed to think more than may be proved. Yea but how if it were proved quod Dame Frances? If it were so (which God forbidden quoth he) than could you not blame me to conceive that opinion. howsoever I might blame you (quoth she) I mean not to blame you, but I demand further, if it be as I think & you suspect, what will you than do? Surely (quod F. I) I have deter●ed to drink up mine own sorrow secretly, and to bid them both a Dieu. I like your farewell better than your fantasy (quoth she) and whensoever you can be content to take so much pains, as the Knight (which had a night gown guarded with naked sword) did take, I think you may put yourself out of doubt of all these things. By these words and other speech which she uttered unto him, F.I. smelled how the world went about, and therefore did one day in the grey morning adventure to pass through the gallery towards his Mistress chamber, hoping to have found the door open, but he found the contrary, and there attending in good devotion, herded the parting of his Mistress and her Secretary, with many kind words: whereby it appeared that the one was very loath to depart from the other. F.I. was enforced to bear this burden, and after he had attended there as long as the light would give him leave, he departed also to his chamber, and aparaling himself, could not be quiet until he had spoken with his Mistress, whom he burdened flatly with this despiteful treachery: and she as fast denied it, until at last being still urged with such evident tokens as he alleged, she gave him this bone to g●awe upon. And if I did so (quoth she) what than? Whereunto F.I. made none answer, but departed with this farewell. My loss is mine own, and your gain is none of yours, and sooner can I recover my loss than you enjoy the gain which you gape after. And when he was in place solitary, he compiled these following for a final end of the matter. G. T. And if I did what than? Are you aggrieved therefore? The Sea hath fish for every man, And what would you have more? Thus did my Mistress once, Amaze my mind with doubt: And 〈◊〉 a question for the nonce, To beat my brains about▪ Whereto I thus replied, Each fisherman can wish, That all the Sea at every tide, Were his alone to fish. And so did I (in vain,) But since it may not be: Let such fish there as found the gain, And lea●e the loss for me. And with such luck and loss, I will content myself: Till tides of turning time may toss, Such fishers on the shelf. And when they stick on sands, That every man may see: Than will I laugh and clap my hands, As they do now at meo. F.I. IT is time now to make an end of this thriftless History, wherein although I could wade much f●rther, as to declare his departure, what thanks he gave to his Hope &c. Yet I will cease, as one that had rather leave it unperfect than make it to plain. I have passed it over with quoth he, and quoth she, after my homely manner of writing, using sundry names for one person, as the Dame, the Lady, Mistress, &c. The Lord of the Castle, the Master of the house, and the host: nevertheless for that I have seen good authors term every gentle woman a Lady, and every gentleman domine, I have thought it not greater fault than petty treason thus to enter mingle them, nothing doubting but you will easily, understand my meaning, and that is as much as I desire. Now henceforwardes I will trouble you not more with such a barbarous style in prose, but will only recite unto you sundry verses written by sundry gentlemen, adding nothing of mine own, but only a title to every Poem, whereby the cause of writing the same may the more evidently appear: Neither can I declare unto you who written the greatest part of them, for they are unto me but a pos●e presented out of sundry gardens, neither have I any other names of the flowers, but such short notes as the authors themselves have delivered thereby if you can guess them, it shall not way offend me. I will begin with this translation as followeth. G. T. A translation of Ariosto allegorized. WHen worthy Bradamant, had looked long in vain. To see her absent love and Lord, Ruggier: return again: Upon her loathed bed her lustless limbs did cast, And in deceitful dreams she thought, she see him come at last. But when with open arm●ss, she run him to embrace, With open eyes she found it false, & thus complained her case. That which me pleased (quoth she) was dreams which fancy drew, But that which me torment's (alas) by sight I found it true. My joy was but a dream, and soon did fade away, But my tormenting cruel cares, cannot so soon decay▪ Why hear I not and see, since now I have my senses? That which in feigned fading dreams appeared by ●ntemcess▪ Or whereto serve mine eyes, if sights they so mistake, As seem to see each joy in s●éepe, and woe when they awake. The sweet & slumbering sleep, did promise' joy & peace, But these unpleasant sights to raise, such wars as never cease. The sleep I felt was false, and seemed to ease my grief, But that I see is all to true, and yéeldes me not relief. If truth annoy me than, and feigned fancies please me, God grant I never hear nor see, true thing for to disease me. If sleaping yield me joy, and waking work me woe, God grant I sleep, & never wake, to ●ase my torment so. OH happy slumbering souls, whom one dead drowsy sleep Six months (of yore) in silence shut, with closed eyes did keep. Yet can I not compare, such sleep to be like death, Nor yet such waking, as I wake, to be like vital breath. For why my let doth fall, contrary to the rest, I deem it death when I awake, & life while I do rest. Yet if such sleep be like to death in any wise, OH gentle death come quick at call, & close my dreary eyes. Thus said the worthy dame, whereby I gather this, Not care can be compared to that, where true love parted is. Lenuoi●. Lo Lady if you had but half like care for me, That worthy Bradamant had than her own Ruggier to see: My ready will should be so priest to come at call, You should have not such sight or dream to trouble you withal. Than when you list command, & I will come in haste, There is not hap shall hold me back, good will shall run so fast. Si fortunatus infoelix. Written upon a reconciliation between two friends THe hateful man that heapeth in his mind, Cruel revenge of wrongs forepast and done, May not (with ease●) the pleasant pathway find, Of friendly verses which I have now begun, Unless at first his angry breast vntwinde, The crooked knot which cankered choler knit, And than recule with reconciled grace. Likewise I found it said in holy writ, If thou intend to turn thy fearful face, To God above: make thine agreement yet, First with thy Brother whom thou didst abuse, Confess thy faults thy frowardness and all, So that the Lord thy prayer not refuse. When I consider this, and than the brawl, Which raging youth (I will not me excuse) Did whilom breed in mine un●ellowed brain, I thought it meet before I did assay, To writ in rhyme the double golden gain, Of amity: first yet to take away The grudge of grief, as thou dost me constrain. By due desert whereto I now must yield, And drown for ay in depth of Lethe's lake, Disdainful moods whom friendship cannot wéeld: Pleading for peace which for my part I make Of former strife, and henceforth let us writ The pleasant fruits of faithful friends delight. Si fortunatus infoelix. ¶ Two gentlemen did run three courses at the ring for one kiss, to be taken of a fair gentlewoman being than present, with this condition▪ that the winner should have the kiss, and the loser be bond to writ some verses upon the gain or loss thereof. Now it fortuned so that the wynner triumphed saying, he much lamented that in his youth he had not seen the wars. VVhereuppon the loser compiled these following in discharge of the condition above rehearsed. THis vain avail which thou by Mars hast won, Should not allure thy flittering mind to field: Where sturdy Stéedes in depth of dangers run, With guts well gnawn by claps that Cannons yield. Where faithless friends by warfare waxed ware, And run to him that giveth best reward: Not fear of laws can 'cause them for to care, But rob and reave, and steal without regard The father's cote, the brother's steed from stall: The dear friends purse shall picked be for pennies, The native soil, the parents left and all, With Tant troth Tant, the camp is marching hence. But when bore beggary bids them to beware, And late repentance rules them to retire. Like hy●elesse Bees they wander here and there, And hung on them (who erst) might dread their ire. This cuthroat life (me seems) thou shouldst not like, And shoes the happy haven of mean estate: High jove (perdie) may sand what thou dost seek, And heap up pounds within thy quiet gate. Nor yet I would that thou shouldst spend thy days, In idleness to tear a golden time: Like country louts which count none other praise, But grease a sheep and learn to serve the swine. In vain were than the gifts which nature lent, If Pan so press to pass Dame Pallas lore: But my good friend let thus thy youth be spent, Serve God thy Lord, and praise him evermore. Search out the skill which learned books do teach, And serve in field when shadows make thee sure: Hold with the head, and row not passed thy reach. But pled for peace which plenty may procure. And (for my life) if thou canst run this race, Thy bags of coin will multiply apace. Si fortunatus infoelix. ¶ Not long after the writing hereof: he departed from the company of his said friend (whom he entirely loved) into the west of England, and feeling himself so consumed by women's craft that he doubted of a safe return: written before his departure as followeth. THe feeble thread which Lachesis hath spoon, To draw my days in short abode with thee, Hath wrought a web which now (well-near) is don●, The wale is worn: and (all to late) I see That lingering life doth da●ly but in vain, For Atrop●s will cut the twist in twain. I not discern what life but loathsome were, When faithful friends are kept in twain by want: Nor yet perceive what pleasure doth appear, To deep desires where good success is scant. Such spite yet shows dame fortune (if she frown,) The haughty hearts in high mishaps to drown. Hot be the flames which boil in friendly minds, Cruel the care and dreadful is the doom: Slipper the knot which tract of time vntwynds, Hateful the life and welcome were the tomb. Blessed were the day which might deuower such youth, And cursed the want that seeks to choke such truth. This wailing verse I bathe in flowing tears, And would my life might end with these my lines: Yet strive I not to force into thy ears, Such feigned plaints as fickle faith resigns. But high foresight in dreams hath stopped my breath, And caused the Swan to sing before his death. For lo these naked walls do well declare, My latest leave of thee I taken have: And unknown coasts which I must seek with care Do well divine that there shallbe my grave. There shall my death make many for to moon, Scarce known to them, well known to thee alone. This boon of thee (as last request) I crave, When true report shall sound my death with fame: Vouchsafe yet than to go unto my grave, And there first writ my birth and than my name▪ And how my life was shortened many years, By women's wiles as to the world appears. And in reward of grant to this request, Permit OH God my tongue these words to tell▪ (When 〈◊〉 his pen shall writ upon my chest) With shrieking voice mine own dear friend farewell. Not care on earth did seem so much to me, As when my corpse was forced to part from thee. Si fortunatus infoelix. He written to the same friend from Excester, this Sonnet following. A hundredth sons (in course but not in kind) Can witness well that I possess not joy: The fear of death which fretteth in my mind Consumes my heart with dread of dark annoy. And for each son a thousand broken sleeps, Divide my dreams with fresh recourse of cares: The youngest s●●ter sharp her shear she keeps, To cut my thread and thus my life it wears. Yet let such days, such thousand restless nights, Spit forth their spite, let fates eke show their force: Deaths daunting dart where so his buffets lights, Shall shape not change within my friendly corpse: But dead or live, in heaven, in earth, in hell I willbe thy where so my carcase devil. Si fortunatus infoelix. ¶ He written to the same friend from fountain bell eaü in France▪ this Sonnet in commendation of the said house of Fountain bell 'eaü. NOt stately Troy though Priam yet did live▪ Can now compare fountain bell eaü to pass▪ Nor Syrriane towers, whose lofty steps did strive, To climb the throne where angry Saturn was. For outward show the ports are of such price, 〈…〉 Such works within as stain the rare devise▪ Which whillome he Apelles wrought on tomb. Swift Tiber flood which fed the Roman pools, Puddle to this where Crystal melts in streams, The pleasant place where Muses kept their schools▪ (Not parched with Phoebe, nor banished from his beams) Yield to those Dames, nor sight, nor fruit, nor smell, Which may be thought these gardens to excel. Si fortunatus infoelix. ¶ He written unto a Skotish Dame whom he choose for his Mistress in the french Court, as followeth. LAdy receive, receive in gracious wise, This ragged verse, these rude ill skribled lines: Too base an object for your heavenly eyes, For he that writes his freedom (lo) resigns Into your hands: and freely yields as thrall His sturdy neck (erst subject to not yoke) But bending now, and headlong priest to fall▪ Before your feet, such force hath beauty's stroke. Since then mine eyes (which scorned our English) dames In foreign courts have choose you for fair, Let be this verse true token of my flames, And do not drench your own in deep despair. Only I crave (as I nill change for new) That you vouchsafe to think your servant true. Si fortunatus infoelix. ¶ Written to a gentlewoman who had refused him and choose a husband (as he thought) much inferior to himself, both in knowledge birth and parsonage. Wherein he bewrayeth both their names in clouds, and how she was won from him with sweet gloves and broken rings. I Cannot wish thy grief, although thou work my woe Since I professed to be thy friend, I cannot be thy foe: But if things done and passed, might well be called again, Than would I wish the wasted words, which I have spent in vain: Were it untold to thee, in earnest or in game, And that my doubtful musing mind, had never thought the same. For whiles I thee beheld, in careful thoughts I spent My liking lust, my luckless love which ever truly meant▪ And whiles I sought a mean, by pity to procure, Too late I found that gorged hawks, do not esteem the lure. This vantage hast thou than, thou mayst well brag & b●st Thou-babes mightst have had a lusty lad, of stature with the most, And eke of noble mind: his virtues nothing base, Do well declare that descends, of ancient worthy race. Save that I not his name, and though I could it tell, My friendly pen shall let it pass, because I love him well. And thou hast choose one of meaner parentage, Of stature small & therewithal, unequal for thy age. His thewes unlike the first, yet hast thou hot desire, To play thee in his flitting flames, God grant they prove not fire. Himulco holdest thou as dear, and he thy Lord shall be, (Too late alas) thou lovest him, that never loved thee. And for just proof hereof, mark what I tell is true, Some dismold day shall change his mind, and make him seek a new. Than will't thou much repent thy bargain made in haste, And much lament those parfumd gloves, which yield such sour taste. And eke the falsed faith, which lurks in broken rings, Though hand in hand say otherwise, yet do I know such things. Than shalt thou sing and say, farewell my trusty Squire▪ Wold god my mind had yielded once, unto thy just desire▪ Thus shalt thou wail my want, and I thy great unrest, Which cruel Cupid kindled hath, within thy broken breast. Thus shalt thou found it grief, which erst thou thoughtest game, And I shall hear the weary news, by true reporting fame▪ Lamenting thy mishap, in source of swelling tears, Harding my with cruel care, which frozen fancy bears. And though my just desert, thy pity could not move, yet will I wash in wailing words, thy careless childish love And say as Troyl●s said, since that I can not more, Thy wanton will did waver once, and woe is me therefore. Si fortunatus infoelix. In praise of a gentlewoman who though she wer● not very fair, yet was she as hard favoured as might be. IF men may credit give, to true reported fames, Who doubts but stately Room had store of lusty loving Dames? Whose ears have been so deaf, as never yet herded tell How far the fresh Pompeia, for beauty did excel. And golden Marcus he, that swayde the Roman sword, Bore witness of Boemia, by credit of his word. What need I mother rehearse? since all the world did know How high the floods of beauty's blaze, within those walls did flow. And yet in all that choice a worthy Roman Knight, Antonius who conquered proud Egypt by his might. Not all to please his eye, but most to ease his mind, Choose Cleopatra for his love, & left the rest behind. A wondrous thing to read, in all his victory. He snapped but her for his own share, to please his fantasy. She was not fair God wots, the country breeds none bright, Well may we judge her skin the foil, because her teeth were white. Percase her lovely looks, some praises did deserve, But brown I dare be bold she was▪ for so that solle did serve. And could Antonius forsake the fair in Room? To love this nutbrown Lady best, was this an equal doom? I dare well say dames there, did bear him deadly grudge, His sentence had been shortly said, if Faustine had been judge. For this I dare avow, (without vaunt be it spoken) So brave a knight as Anthony, held all their necks in yoke I leave not Lucrece out, believe in her who list, I think she would have liked his lure, & stooped to his fist. What moved the chieftain than, to link his liking thus? I would some Roman dame were here, the question to discuss. But I that read her life, do found therein by fame, How clear her courtesy did shine, in honour of her name. Her bounty did excel, her truth had never peer, Her lovely looks her pleasant speech, her lusty loving ●here. And all the worthy gifts, that ever yet were found, Within this good Egyptian Queen, did seem for to abound▪ Wherefore he worthy was, to win the golden fleece, Which scorned the blazing stars in Room, to conquer such a piece. And she to quite his love, in spite of dreadful death, Enshrinde with Snakes within his tomb, did yield her parting breath. Allegoria. IF fortune favoured him, than may that man rejoice, And think himself a happy man by hap of happy choice. Who loves and is beloved of one as good, as true, As kind as Cleopatra was, and yet more of bright hew. Her eyes as grey as glass, her teeth as white as milk, A ruddy lip, a dimpled chin, a skin as smooth as silk. A wight what could you more that may content man's mind, And hath supplies for every want that any man can found. And may himself assure, when hence his life shall pass, She willbe stung to death with snakes, as Cleopatra was. Si fortunatus infoelix. ¶ He begun to writ by a gentlewoman who passed by him with her arms set bragging by her sides, and left it unfinished as followeth. WEre my heart set on hoygh as thine is bend, Or in my breast so brave and stout a will: Than (long ere this) I could have been content, With sharp revenge thy careless corpse to kill. For why thou knowest (although thou know not all) What rule, what reign, what power, what segnory, Thy melting mind did yield to me (as thrall) When first I pleased thy wandering fantasy. What lingering looks bewrayed thine inward thought, What pangs were published by perplexity, Such reaks the rage of love in thee had wrought And not gramercy for thy courtesy. I list not vaunt, but yet I dare avow (Had been my harmless hart as hard as thine) I could have bond thee than for sterting now, In bonds of bale, in pangs of deadly pine. For why by proof the field is eath to win, Where as the chiefteynes yield themselves in chains: The port or passage plain to enter in Where porters list to leave the key for gains. But did I than devise with cruelty, (As tyrants do) to kill thy yielding prey? Or did I brag and boast triumphantly, As who should say, the field were mine that day? Did I retire myself out of thy sight To beat (a fresh) the bulwarks of thy breast? Or did my mind in choice of change delight, And tender thee as refused with the rest? Not Tiger not▪ the Lion is not lewd, He shows not force on seely wounded sheep, &c. whiles he sat at the door of his lodging▪ deuysing these verses above rehearsed, the same Gentlewoman passed by again, and cast a long look towards him, whereby he left his former invention and written thus. HOw long she looked that looked at me of late, As who would say, her looks were all for love: When God he knows they came from deadly hate, To pinch me yet with pangs which I must prove. But since my looks her liking may not move, Look where she likes: for lo this look was cast, Not for my love, but even to see my last. Si fortunatus infoelix. another Sonnet written by the same Gentlewoman upon the same occasion. I Looked of late and see thee look askance, Upon my door to see if I sat there, As who should say▪ If he be there by chance, Yet may he think I look him every where. Not cruel no, thou know'st and I can tell, How for thy love I laid my looks a side: Though thou (percase) hast looked and liked well Some new found looks amid this world so wide. But since thy looks my love have so enchained That in my looks thy liking now is past: Look where thou likest, and let thy hands be stained, In true loves blood which thou shalt lack at last. So look so lack, for in these toys thus tossed, My looks thy love, thy looks my life have lost. Si fortunatus infoelix. Enough of this Dame. And let us peruse his other do which have come to my hands, in such disordered order, as I can best set them down. I will now than present you with a Sonnet written in praise of the brown beauty, which he compiled for the love of Mistress E. P. as followeth. THe thriftless thread which pampered beauty spins, In thraldom binds the foolish gazing eyes: As cruel Spiders with their crafty gins, In worthless webs do snare the simple Flies. The garments gay, the glittering golden gite, The 'ticing talk which floweth from Pallas pools: The painted pale, the (too much) read made white, Are smile baits to fish for loving fools. But lo, when eld in toothless mouth appears, And whoary bears in steed of beauties blaze: Than Had I witted, doth teach repenting years, The tickle tract of crafty Cupid's maze. Twixt fair and foul therefore, twixt great and small, A lovely nutbrown ●ace is best of all. Si fortunatus infoelix. Written by a Gentlewoman in court, who (when she was there placed) seemed to disdain him, contrary to a former profession. WHen danger keeps the dor●, of lady beauty's bower, When jealous toys have chased Trust out of her strongest tower: Than faith and troth may fly, than falsehood wins the field Than feeble naked faultless hearts, for lack of sense must yield. And them prevails as much to hop against the hill, As seek by suit for to appease a froward Ladies will. For oaths and solemn vows, are wasted than in vain, And truth is counted but a toy, when such fond fancies reign. The sentence sun is said, when will itself is judge, And quickly is the quarrel picked when ladies list to grudge. This sing I for myself, (which written this weary song) Who justly may complain my case, if ever man had wrong A Lady have I served, a Lady have I loved, A Ladies good will once I had, her ill will lay I proved. In country first I known her, in country first I caught her, And out of country now in court, to my cost have I sought her. In court where Princes reign, her place is now assigned, And well were worthy for the room, if she were not unkind. There I (in wont wise) did show myself of late, And found that as the soil was changed, so love was turned to hate. But why? God knows, not I: save as I said before, Pity is put from porters place, & danger keeps the door. If courting than have skill, to change good Ladies so, god sand each wilful dame in court, some word of my like woe That with a troubled head, she may both turn and toss, In restless bed when she should sleep & feel of love the loss. And I (since porters put me from my wont place)▪ And deep deceit hath wrought a wile to wrist me out of grace: will home again to cart▪ as fit were for me, Than thus in court to serve and starve, where such proud porters be. Si fort●natus infoelix. From this I will skip to certain verses written to a Gentlewoman whom he liked very well, and yet had never any opportunity to discover his affection, being always bridled by jealous looks, which attended them both, and therefore guessing by her looks, that she partly also liked him: he wrote in a book of hers as followeth. THou with thy looks on whom I look full oft, And found therein great cause of deep delight: Thy face is fair, thy skin is smooth and soft, Thy lips are sweet, thy eyes are clear and bright, And every part seems pleasant in my sight. Yet wot thou well, those looks have wrought my woe▪ Because I love to look upon them so. For first those looks allured mine eye to look, And straight mine eye stirred up my heart to love: And cruel love with deep deceitful hook, Choked up my mind whom fancy cannot move, Nor hope relieve, nor other help behove: But still to look, and though I look too much, Needs must I look, because I see none such. Thus in thy looks my love and life have hold, And with such life my death draws on apace: And for such death not medicine can be told, But looking still upon thy lovely face, Wherein are painted pity, peace, and grace. Than though thy looks should 'cause me for to die, Needs must I look, because I live thereby. Since then thy looks my life have so in thrall, As I can like none other looks but thy: Lo here I yield my life, my love, and all Into thy hands, and all things else resign, But liberty to gaze upon thine eyes. Which when I do, than think it were thy part, To look again, and link with me in heart. Si fortunatus infoelix. With these verses you shall judge the quick capacity of the Lady: for she wrote therunder this short answer. Look as long as you list, but surely if I take you looking, I will look with you. And for a further proof of this Dames quick understanding, you shall now understand, that soon after this answer of hers, the same Author chanced to be at a supper in her company, where were also her brother, her husband, and an old lover of hers by whom she had been long suspected. Now, although there wanted not delicate viands to content them, yet their chief repast was by entreglancing of looks. For G. G. being stung with hot affection, could none otherwise relieve his passion but by gazing. And the Dame of a courteous inclination deigned (now and than) to requited the same with glancing at him. Her old lover occupied his eyes with watching: and her brother perceiving all this could not abstain from winking, whereby he might put his Sister in remembrance, lest she should too much forget hirself. But most of all her husband beholding the first, and being evil pleased with the second, scarce contented with the third, and misconstruing the fourth, was constrained to play the fifth part in froward frowninge. This royal banquet thus passed over, G.G. knowing that after supper they should pass the time in propounding of Riddles, and making of purposes: contrived all this conceit in a Riddle as followeth. The which was not sooner pronounced, but she could perfectly perceive his intent, and drove out one nail with another, as also enseweth. His Riddle. I Cast mine eye and see ten eyes at once, All seemly set upon one lovely face: Two gazed, two glanced, two watched for the nonce, Two winked wiles, two frowned with froward grace▪ Thus every eye was pitched in his place. And every eye which wrought each others woe, Said to itself, alas why looked I so? And every eye for jealous love did pine, And sighed and said, I would that eye were mine. Si fortunatus infoelix. In all this lovely company was none that could and would expound the meaning hereof. At last the Dame hirself answered on this wise. Sir, quoth she, because your dark speech is much too curious for this simple company, I willbe so bold as to quit one question with an other. And when you have answered mine, it may fall out peradventure, that I shall somewhat the better judge of yours. Her Question. What thing is that which swims in bliss, And yet consumes in burning grief: Which being placed where pleasure is, Can yet recover not relief. Which sees to sigh, and sighs to see, All this is one, what may it be? He held himself herwith contented: and afterwards when they were better acquainted, he chanced once (groping in her pocket) to found a letter of her old lovers: and thinking it were better to wink than utterly to put out his eyes, seemed not too understand this first offence: but soon after finding a leman (the which he thought he see her old leman put there) he devised thereof thus, and delivered it unto her in writing. I Groped in thy pocket pretty peat, And found a Leman which I looked not: So found I once (which now I must repeat) Both leaves and letters which I liked not. Such hap have I to found and seek it not, But since I see not faster means to bind, than I will (henceforth) take lemen as I found them. The Dame within very short space did answer it thus. A Lymone (but not Lemmane) Sir you found, For Lemen bear their name to broad before: The which since it hath given you such a wound, That you seem now offended very sore: Content yourself you shall found (there) not more. B●t take your Lemen henceforth were you lust, For I will show my letters where I trust. This Sonnet of his shall pass (for me) without any preface. WHen steadfast friendship (bond by holy oath) Did part perforce my presence from thy sight. In dreams I might behold how thou wert loath With troubled thoughts to part from thy delight. When Poplar walls enclosed thy pensi●e mind, My painted shadow did thy woes revive: Thy evening walks by Thames in open wound, Did long to see my sailing boat arrive. But when the dismold day did seek to part From London walls thy longing mind for me. The sugared kisses (sent to thy dear heart) With secret smart in broken sleeps I see. Wherefore in tears I drenche a thousand fold, Till these moist eyes thy beauty may behold. Si fortunatus infoelix. He written (at his friend's request) in praise of a Gentlewoman, whose name was Philip, as followeth. OF all the birds that I do know, Philip my sparrow hath not pear: For sit she high or lie she low, Be she far of, or be she near, There is not bird so fair, so fine, Nor yet so fresh as this of mine. Come in a morning merely When Philip hath been lately fed, Or in an evening soberly, When Philip list to go to bed: It is a heaven to hear my phippe, How she can chirp with cherry lip. She never wanders far abroad, But is at hand when I do call: If I command she lays on load, With lips, with teeth, with tongue and all. She chants, she chirpes, she makes such cheer, That I believe she hath not peer. And yet besides all this good sport, My Philip can both sing and dance: With newfond toys of sundry sort, My Philip can both prick and prance: As if you say but fend cut phippe, Lord how the peat will turn and skip Her feathers are so fresh of hue, And so well proyned every day: She lacks none oil, I warrant you: To trim her tail both tryck and gay. And though her mouth be somewhat wide, Her tongue is sweet and short beside. And for the rest I dare compare, She is both tender, sweet and soft: She never lacketh dainty fare, But is well fed and feedeth often: For if my phip have lust to eat, I warrant you Phip lacks not meat. And than if that her meat be good, And such as like do love always: She will lay lips thereon by the●rood, And see that none be cast away: For when she once hath felt a fit, Philip will cry still, yet, yet, yet. And to tell truth he were to blame, Which had so fine a Bird as she, To make him all this goodly game, Without suspect or jealousy: He were a churl and known not good, Would see her faint for lack of food. Wherefore I sing and ever shall, To praise as I have often proved, There is not bird among them all, So worthy for to be beloved. Let others praise what bird they will, Sweet Philip shallbe my bird still. Si fortunatus infoelix. Now to begin with another man, take these verses written to be sent with a ring, wherein were engraved a Patrich in a Merlines foot. THe Partridge in the pretty Merlines foot, Who feels her force suppressed with fearfulness, And finds that strength nor strife can do her boot, To scape the danger of her deep distress: These woeful words may seem for to rehearse Which I must writ in this waymenting verse. What helpeth now (sayeth she) dame natures skill, To die my feathers like the dusty ground? Or what preuayles to lend me wings at will Which in the air can make my body bond? Since from the earth the dogs me drove perforce, And now aloft the Hawk hath caught my corpse. If change of coollors, could not me convey, Yet might my wings have scaped the dogs despite: And if my wings did fail to fly away, Yet m●ught my strength resist the Merlynes might. But nature made the Merlyne me to kill, And me to yield unto the Merlines will. My lot is like (dear Dame) believe me well, The quiet life which I full closely kept: Was not content in happy state to devil, But forth in haste to gaze on thee it leapt. Desire the dog did spring me up in haste, Thou-babes wert the Hawk, whose talents caught me fast. What should I than, seek means to fly away? Or strive by force, to break out of thy feet? Not, not, perdie, I may not strength assay, To strive with thee iwis, it were not meet. Thou-babes art that Hawk, whom nature made to hent me, And I the Bird, that must therewith content me. And since Dame nature hath ordained so, Her happy hest I gladly shall embrace: I yield my will, although it were to woe, I stand content to take, my grief for grace: And seal it up within my secret heart, Which seal receive, as token of my smart. Spraeta tamen viuunt. To a Dame which challenged the author because he held his head always down, and looked not upon her in his wont wise. YOu must not wonder, though you think it strange, To see me hold, my lowering head so low: And that mine eyes, take not delight to range, About the gleams, which on your face do grow. The Mouse which once hath broken out of trap, Is seldom tysed▪ with the trustless bait: But lies aloof, for fear of more mishap, And feeds still in doubt of deep deceit. The skorched fly, which once hath scaped the flame, Will hardly come, to play again with fire: Whereby I learn, that grievous is the game, Which follows fancy dazzled by desire. So that I wink, or else hold down my head, Because your blazing eyes, my bale have bread. Spraeta tamen viuunt. A loving Lady being wounded in the spring time, and now galded eftsoons with the remembrance of the spring, doth therefore thus bewail. THis tenth of March when Aries received, Dame Phoebus' rays, into his horned head: And I myself, by learned lore perceived, That Ver approached, and frosty winter fled. I crossed the Thames, to take the cheerful air, In open fields, the weather was so fair. And as I rowed, fast by the further shore, I herded a voice, which seemed to lament: Whereat I stayed, and by a stately door, I left my Boat, and up on land I went. Till at the last by lasting pain I found, The woeful wight, which made this doleful sound. In pleasant garden (placed all alone) I saw a Dame, who sat in weary wise, With scalding sighs, she uttered all her moan, The rueful tears, down rained from her eyes: Her lowering head, full low on hand she laid, On knee her arm: and thus this Lady said. Alas (quoth she) behold each pleasant green, Will now renew, his summers livery, The fragrant flowers, which have not long been seen, Will flourish now, (ere long) in bravery: The tender buds, whom cold hath long kept in, Will spring and sprout, as they do now begin. But I (alas) within whose mourning mind, The graffs of grief, are only given to grow, Cannot enjoy the spring which others find, But still my will, must wither all in woe: The cold of care, so nips my joys at root, Not sun doth shine, that well can not them boot. The lusty Ver, which whillome might exchange My grief to joy, and than my joys increase, Spring's now elsewhere, and shows to me but strange, My winter's woe, therefore can never cease: In other coasts, his sun full clear doth shine, And comfort lends to ey'ry mould but mine. What plant can spring, that feels not force of Ver? What flower can flourish, where not sun doth shine? These Bales (quoth she (within my breast I bear, To break my bark, and make my pith to pine: Needs must I fall, I fade both root and rind, My branches bow, at blast of every wind. This said: she cast a glance and spied my face, By sight whereof, Lord how the changed hue? So that for shame, I turned back a pace And to my home, myself in haste I drawn: And as I could her woofull words rehearse, I set them down in this waymenting verse. Now Ladies you, that know by whom I sing, And feel the winter, of such frozen wylls: Of courtesy, yet 'cause this noble spring, To sand his sun, above the highest hills: And so to shine, upon her fading sprays, Which now in woe, do wither thus always. Spreta tamen viuunt. The careful lover cumbered with pleasure, thus complaineth. NOw have I found the way, to weep & wail my ●●ll, Now can I end my doleful days, & so content my will. The way to weep enough, for such as list to wail, Is this: to go aboard the ship, where pleasure bears sail. And there to mark the jests, of every joyful wight, And with what wind and wave they fleet, to nourish their delight. For as the stricken dear, that seeth his fellows feed, Amid the lusty herded (unhurt,) & feels himself to bleed. Or as the seely bird, that with the Bolt is brusd, And lies a loof among the leaves, of all her peers refused. And hears them sing full shrill, yet cannot she rejoice, Nor frame one warbling note to pass, out of her mournful voice. Even so I found by proof, that pleasure dubleth pain, Unto a wretched wounded heart, which doth in woe remain. I pass where pleasure is, I hear some for sing joy, I see some laugh, some other dance, in spite of dark annoy. But out alas my mind, amends not by their mirth, I deem all pleasures to be pain, that dwell above the earth. Such heavy humours feed, the blood that lends me breath, As merry medicines cannot serve, to keep my corpse from death. Spraeta tamen viuunt. ¶ The lover being disdainfully abjected by a dame of high calling, who had choose (in his place) a play fellow of base condition: doth therefore determine to step a side, and before his departure giveth her this farewell in verse. THy birth, thy beauty, nor thy brave attire, (Disdainful Dame, which dost me double wrong) Thy high estate, which sets thy heart on fire, Or new found choice, which cannot serve thee long, Shall make me dread, with pen for to rehearse, Thy skittish deeds, in this my parting verse. For why thou knowest, and I myself can tell, By many vows, how thou to me wert ●ound: And how for joy, thy heart did seem to swell, And in delight▪ how thy desires were drowned. When of thy will, the walls I did assail, Wherein fond fancy, fought for mine avail. And though my mind, have small delight to vaunt, Yet must I vow, my heart to thee was true: My hand was always able for to daunt, Thy slanderous fooes, and keep their tongues in mew. My head (though dull) was yet of such devise, As might have kept thy name always in price. And for the rest my body was not brave, But able yet, of substance to alloy, The raging lust, where in thy limbs did rave, And quench the coals, which kindled thee to play. Such one I was, and such always willbe, For worthy Dames, but than I mean not thee. For thou hast caught a proper paragon, A thief, a coward, and a Peacock fool: An Ass, a mylksop, and a minion, Which hath none oil, thy furious flames to cool, Such one he is, a fere for thee most fit, A wandering guest, to please thy wavering wit. A thief I count him, for he robs us both, Thee of thy name, and me of my delight: A cowerd is he noted where he goes, Since every child, is matched to him in might. And for his pride not more, but mark his plumes, The which to princke, he days and nights consumes. The rest thyself, in secret sort can judge, He rides not me, thou knowest his sadell best: and though these tricks of thy, might make me grudge And kindle wrath, in my revenging breast: Yet of myself, and not to please thy mind, I stand content, my rage in rule to bind. And far from thee now must I take my flight, Where tongues may tell, (and I not see) thy fall: Where I may drink these drags of thy despite, To purge my Melancholic mind withal. In secret so, my stomach will I starve, Wishing thee better than thou dost deserve, Spraeta tamen viuunt. An absent Dame thus complaineth. MUch like the seely Bird, which close in Cage is penned, So sing I now, not notes of joy, but lays of deep lament. And as the hooded Hawk, which hears the Partridge spring, Who though she feel herself fast tied, yet beats her bating wing: So strive I now to show, my feeble froward will, Although I know my labour lost, to hop against the Hill. The drops of dark disdain, did never drench my heart, For well I know I an beloved, if that might ease my smart. Ne yet the privy coals, of glowing iellosie, Can ever kindle needless fear, within my fantasy. The rigour of repulse, doth not renew my plaint, Nor choice of change doth move my moan, nor force me thus to faint. Only that pang of pain, which passes all the rest, And canker like doth fret the heart, within the guiltless breast. Which is if any be, most like the pangs of death, That present grief now grypeth me, & strives to stop my breath. When friends in mind may meet, and heart in heart embrace, And absent yet are fain to plain, for lack of time and place: Than may I count, their love like seed, that soon is so wen, Yet lacking drops of heavenly dew, with weeds is overgrown. The Greyhound is aggrieved, although he see his game, If still in slip he must be stayed, when he would chase the same. So fares it now by me▪ who know myself beloved Of one the best, in each respect, that ever yet was proved. But since my luckless lot, forbids me now to taste, The dulcet fruits of my delight, therefore in woes I wast. And Swallow like I sing, as one enforced so, Since others reap the gaineful crop, which I with pain did sow. Yet you that mark my song, excuse my Swallows voice, And bear with her unpleasant tunes, which cannot well rejoice. Had I or luck in love, or lease of liberty, Than should you hear some sweeter notes, so clear my throat would be. But take it thus in 'gree, and mark my plainsong well, Not heart feels, so much hurt as that: which doth in absence devil. Spreta tamen viuunt. ¶ This question being propounded by a Dame unto the writer thereof, to wit, why he should writ Spreta tamen viuunt▪ he answereth thus. despised things may live, although they pine in pain: And things oft trodden under foot, may once yet rise again. The stone that lies full low, may climb at last full high: And stand aloft on stately towers, in sight of every eye. The cruel axe which fe●les the tree that grew full straight: Is worn with rust, when it renews, and springeth up on height. The roots of rotten Réedes in swelling seas are seen: And when each tide hath toast his worst, they grow again full green. Thus much to please myself, unpleasantly I sing: And shrich to ease my mourning mind, in spite of envies sting. I an now set full light, who erst was dearly loved: Some new-found choice is more esteemed, than that which well was proved Some Diomedes is crept into Dame Cressydes heart: And trusty Troilus now is taught in vain to plain his part. What rests than for me? but thus to wade in woe: And hung in hope of better chance, when change appoints so. I see not sight on earth, but it to Change inclines: As little clouds often overcast, the brightest sun that shines. Not Flower is so fresh, but frost can it deface: Not man so sure in any seat but he may lose his place. So that I stand content (though much against my mind) To take in worth this loathsome lot, which luck to me assigned, And trust to see the time, when they that now are up: May feel the whirl of fortune's wheel, and taste of sorrows cup. God knoweth I wish it not, it had been bet for me: Still to have kept my quiet chair in hap of high degree. But since without recure, Dame Change in love must reign: I now wish change that sought not change, but constant did remain. And if such change do chance, I vow to clap my hands, And laugh at them which laughed at me: lo thus my fancy stands. Spreta tamen viuunt. A strange passion of another Author. AMid my Bale I bath in bliss, I swim in heaven, I sink in hell: I found amendss for every miss, And yet my moan not tongue can tell. I live and love, what would you more? As never lover lived before. I laugh sometimes with little lust, So jest I often and feel not joy: Mine ease is builded all on trust, And yet mistrust breeds mine annoy. I live and lack, I lack and have: I have and miss the thing I crave. These things seem strange, yet are they true Believe me (sweet) my state is such: One pleasure which I would eschew, Both slakes my grief, and breeds my gruch. So doth one pain which I would shoes Renew my joys where grief begone. Thon like the Lark that passed the night In heavy sleep with cares oppressed: Yet when she spies the pleasant light, She sends sweet notes from out her breast. So sing I now because I think How joys approach, when sorrows shrink. And as fair Philomene again Can watch and sing when other sleep: And takes pleasure in her pain, To wray the woe that makes her weep. So sing I now for to bewray The loathsome life I lead always. The which to thee (dear wench) I writ, That knowest my mirth, but not my moan: I pray God grant thee deep delight, To live in joys when I an go. I cannot live, it will not be: I die to think to part from thee. Ferenda Natura. The Lover leaning only to his Lady's promises, and finding them to fail, doth thus lament. THe straightest tree that grows upon one only root: If that root fail, will quickly fade, not props can do it boo●e▪ I an that fading plant, which on thy grace did grow. Thy grace is go wherefore I moan, and whither all in woe. The tallest ship that sails, if she to Anchor's trust: When anchors slip and cables break, her help lies in the dust. I an the ship myself, mine An●or was thy faith: Which now is fled, thy promise broken, and I an driven to death. Who clymeth often on high, and trusts the rotten bow: If that bow break may catch a fall such state stand I in now. Me thought I was aloft, and yet my seat full sure: Thy heart did seem to me a rock which ever might endure. And see, it was but sand, whom seas of subtlety: Have soaked so with wanton waves, that faith was forced to fly. The Floods of fickleness have vndermyned so, The first foundation of my joy, that mirth is ebbed to wo. Yet at low water ●arkess, I lie and wait my time: To mend the breach, but all in vain, it cannot pass the prime. For when the primeflud comes which all this rage begun: Than waves of will do work so fast, my piles are overron. Duty and diligence which are my workmen there, Are glad to take up tools in haste and run away for fear. For fancy hath such force, it overfloweth all: And whispering ●aless do blow the blasts that make it rise and fall. Thus in these tempests ●ost, my restless life doth stand: Because I builded on thy words, as I was born in hand. Thou-babes wert that only stake, whereby I meant to stay: Alas, alas, thou stoodst so weak, the hedge is born away. By thee I thought to live, by thee now must I die: I made thee my Physician, thou art my malady. For thee I longed to live, for thee now welcome death: And welcome be that happy pang, that stops my gasping breath. Twice happy were that are, would cut my roots down right: And sacred were that swelling sea, which would consume me quite. Blessed were that bow would break to bring down climbing youth, Which craks aloft, and quakes full often, for fear of thy untruth. Ferenda Natura. The constancy of a lover hath thus sometimes been briefly declared. THat self same tongue which first did thee entreat To link thy liking with my lucky love: That trusty tongue must now these words repeat, I love the still, my fancy cannot move. That dreadless heart which dared attempt the thought To win thy will with mine for to consent, Maintains that vow which love in me first wrought, I love thee still and never shall repent. That happy hand which hardly did touch Thy tender body, to my deep delight: Shall serve with sword to prove my passion such As loves thee still▪ much more than it can writ. Thus love I still with tongue, hand, heart and all, And when I change, let vengeance on me fall. Ferenda Natura. Now I must desire you with patience to harken unto the works of another writer▪ who though he may not compare with the rest passed, yet such things as he written upon sundry occasions, I will rehearse, beginning with this praise of a Countess. DEsire of Fame would force my feeble skill, To praise a Countess by her due desert: But dread of blame holds back my forward will, And quenched the coals which kindled in my heart. Thus an I plongd tween dread and deep desire, To pay the dew which duty doth require. And when I call the mighty Gods in aid To further forth some fine invention: My bashful spirits be full ill afraid To purchase pain by my presumption. Such malice reigns (sometimes) in heavenly minds▪ To punish him that praiseth as he fynds. For Pallas first who's filled flowing skill, Should guide my pen some pleasant words to writ▪ With angry mood hath framed a froward will, To dash devise as often as I indite. For why? if once my Lady's gifts were known, Pallas should lose the praises of her own. And bloody Mars by change of his delight Hath made joves' daughter now mine enemy: In whose conceit my Countess shines so bright, That Venus pines for burning jealousy. She may go home to Vulcan now again: For Mars is sworn to be my Lady's swain. Of her bright beams Dan Phoebus stands in dread, And shames to shine within our Horizon: Dame Cynthia holds in her horned head, For fear to lose by like comparison. Lo thus she lives, and laughs them all to scorn: Countess on earth, in heaven a Goddess born. And I sometimes her servant, now her friend, Whom heaven and earth for her (thus) hate & blame: Have yet presumed in friendly wise to spend, This ragged verse in honour of her name. A simple gift, compared by the skill: Yet what may seem so dear as such good will. Meritum petere, grauè. The Lover declareth his affection, together with the cause thereof. WHen firs● I thee beheld in colours black and whit, Thy face in form well framed favour blooming still: My burning breast in cares did choose his chief delight, With pen to paint thy praise; contrary to my skill. Whose worthiness compared with this my rude devise, I blush and an abashed, this work to enterprise. But when I call to mind thy sundry gifts of grace, Full fraught with manners meek in happy quiet mind: My hasty hand forthwith doth scribble on apace, Lest willing heart might think, it meant to come behind. Thus do both hand and heart these careful méetres use, Twixt hope and trembling fear, my duty to excuse. Wherefore accept these lives, and banish dark disdain, Be sure they come from one that loveth thee in chief: And guerdon me thy friend in like with love again, So shalt thou well be sure to yield me such relief, As only may redress my sorrows and my smart: For proof whereof I pledge (dear Dame) to thee my heart. Meritum petere, grauè. Another shorter discourse to the same effect. IF ever man yet found the Bath of perfect bliss, Than swim I now amid the Sea where naught but pleasure is. I love and an beloved (without vaunt be it told) Of one more fair than she of Grece for whom proud Tr●y was sold▪ As bountiful and good as Cleopatra Queen: As constant as Penelope unto her make was seen. What would you more? my pen unable is to writ The lest desert that seems to shine within this worthy wight. So that for now I cease, with hands held up on high, And crave of God that when I change, I may be forced to dye. Meritum petere, grauè. The lover disdaynefully rejected contrary to former promise, thus complaineth. THe deadly drops of dark disdain, Which daily fall on my desert. The lingering suit long spent in vain, Whereof I feel not fruit but smart: Enforce me now these words to writ: Not all for love, but more for spite. The which to thee I m●st rehearse, Whom I did honour, serve and trust. And though the music of my verse Be plainsong tune both true and just: Content thee yet to hear my song, For else thou dost me doobble wrong. I must allege, and thou canst tell How faithful I vowed to serve, And how thou séemdst to like me well: And how thou saidst I did deserve To be thy Lord, thy Knight, thy King, And how much more I list not sing. And canst thou now (thou cruel one) Condemn desert to deep despair? Is all thy promise past and go? Is faith so fled into the air? If that be so, what rests for me? But thus in song to say to thee. If Cressides name were not so known, And written wide on every brickwall: If brute of pride were not so blown Upon Angelica withal: For halt disdain thou mightst be she, Or Cressyde for inconstancy. And in reward of thy desert, I hope at last to see thee paid: With deep repentance for thy part, Which thou hast now so lewdly played. Medoro he must be thy make, Since thou Orlando dost forsake. Such is the fruit that grows always Upon the root of ripe disdain: Such kindly wages Cupid pays, Where constant hearts cannot remain▪ I hope to see thee in such bands, When I may laugh and clap my hands. But yet for thee I must protest, That sure the fault is none of thy, Thou-babes art as true as is the best, That ever came of Cressedes' line: For constant yet was never none, But in unconstancy alone. Meritum petere, grave. An absent lover (parted from his Lady by Sea) thus complaineth. BOth deep and dreadful were the Seas, Which held Leander from his love, Yet could not doubts his mind appease, Nor save his life for her behove: But guiltless blood itself would spill, To please the waves and work his will. OH greedy gul●e, OH wretched waves, OH cruel floods, OH ●inke of shames, You hold true lovers bond like s●aveses, And keep them from their worthy Dames: Your open mouth gapes evermore, Till one or both be drowned therefore. For proof whereof myself may sing, And shrich to pierce the lofty skies, Whose Lady left me languishing, Upon the shore in woofull wise: And crossed the Seas out of my sight, Whereby I lost my chief delight. She said that not such trustless flood, Should keep our loves (long time) in twain: She swore not bread should do her good, till she might see myself again. She said and sworn these words and mother, But now I found them nothing so. What rests than for me to do, Thou-babes salt sea foome come say thy mind? Should I come drown within thee too, That an of true Leander's kind? And headlong cast this corpse of mine, Into those greedy guts of thy? Not cruel, but in spite of thee, I will make Seas where erst were none, My tears shall flow in full degree, till all my mirth may ebb to moon. Into such drops I mean to melt, And in such Seas myself to swelled, Lenuoie. Yet you dear Dame for whom I fade, Thus steruing still in wretched state: Remember once your promise made, Perform it now though all to late. Come h●me to Mars who may you please▪ Let Vulcan bide beyond the Seas. Meritum petere, grave. A Lady being both wronged by false suspect, and also wounded by the durance of her husband, doth thus bewray her grief. Give me my Lute in bed now as I lie, And lock the doors of mi●e unlucky bower: So shall my voice in mournful verse destrie▪ The secret smart which causeth me to lower. Resound you walls an Echo to my m●ne, And thou cold bed wherein I lie alone: Bear witness yet what r●st thy Lady takes, When other sleep which may enjoy their make●, In prime of youth when Cupid kindled fire, And warmed my will with flames of 〈…〉 To further forth the fruit of my desire▪ My friends devisd this mean for my 〈◊〉. They made a match according to my mind▪ And cast a snare my fancy for to bind: Short tale to make the deed was almost done, Before I known which way the work begone▪ And with this lot I did myself content, I lent a liking to my parent's choice: With hand and heart I gave my free consent, And hung in hope for ever to rejoice. I lived and loved long time in greater joy, Than she which held king Pri●ms' son of Troy: But three lewd lots have changed my heaven to hell And those be these, give ear & mark them well. First slander he, which always bears hate, To happy hearts in heavenly state that bide: 'Gan play his part to stir up some debate, Whereby suspect into my choice might glide. And by his means the slime of false suspect, Did (as I fear) my dearest friend infect. Thus by these twain long was I plunged in pain, Yet in good hope my heart did still remain. But now (ay me) the greatest grief of all, (Sound loud my Lute, and tell it out my tongue) The hardest hap that ever might befall, The only cause wherefore this song is song, Is this alas: my love, my Lord, my Roy, My choose fere, my gem, and all my joy, Is kept perforce out of my daily sight, Whereby I lack the stay of my delight. In lofty walls, in strong and stately towers, (With troubled mind in solitary sort, My lovely Lord doth spend his days and hours, A weary life devoid of all disport. And I poor soul must lie here all alone, To tire my truth, and wound my will with moan: Such is my hap to shake my blooming time, With winters blasts before it pass the prime. Now have you herded the sum of all my grief, Whereof to tell my heart (o) rends in twain: Good Ladies yet lend you me some relief, And bear a part to ease me of my pain. My sorts are such, that weighing well my truth, They might provoke the craggy rocks to ruth, And move these walls with tears for to lament, The loathsome life wherein my youth is spent. But thou my Lute, be still now take thy rest, Repose thy bones upon this bed of down: Thou-babes hast discharged some burden from my breast, Wherefore take thou my place, here lie thee down. And let me w●lke to tire my restless mind, until I may entreat some courteous wind: To blow these words unto my noble make, That he may see I sorrow for his sake. Meritum petere, grave. Either a needless or a bootless comparison between two letters. OF all the letters in the christs cross row, I fear (my sweet) thou lovest B. the best, And though there be good letters many mother, As A.O.G.N.C.S. and the rest, Yet such a liking bearest thou to B. That few or none thou thinckest like it to be. And much I muse what madness should thee move, To set the Carl before the comely horse: Must A. give place, to B. for his behove? Are letters now so changed from their course? Than must I learn (though much unto my pain,) To read (a new) my christ cross row again. When I first learned, A. was in high degree, A captain letter, and a vowel too: Such one as was always a help to B, And lent him sound and taught him what to do. For take away the vowels from their place, And how can than the consonants have grace▪ Yet if thou like a consonant so well, Why should not G. seem better far than B? G. spelleth God, that high in heaven doth devil, So spell we Gold and all good things with G. B. serves to spell bold, bawdy, brainsick, bold, Black, brown, and bad, yea worse than may be told. In song, the G. cliff keeps the highest place, Where B. sounds always (or too sharp or) flat: In G. sol, re, ut: trebles have trim grace, B. serves the base and is content with that. Believe me (sweet) G. giveth sound full sweet▪ When B. cries buzz, as is for bases meet. But now percase thou will't one G. permit, And with that G. thou meanest B. to join: Alas, alas, me thinks it were not fit, (To cloak thy fault) such fine excuse to coin. Take double G. for thy most loving letter, And cast of B. for it deserves not better. Thus have I played a little with thy B. Whereof the brand is thy, and mine the blame The wight which wounds thy wandering will is he, And I the man that seek to salu● thy name: The which to think, doth make me sigh sometime, Though thus I strive to jest it out in rhyme. Meritum petere, grave. An absent lover doth thus encourage his Lady to continue constant. COntent thyself with patience perforce, And que●th not love with drops of dark mistrust: Let absence have not power to divorce, Thy faithful friend which means to be just, Bear but a while thy constancy to declare, For when I come one inch shall break not square. I must confess that promise did me bind, For to have seen thy seemly self ere now: And if thou knewst what grieves did galled my mind, Because I could not keep that faithful vow: My just ●xeuse▪ 〈…〉 self assure, With little pain thy 〈◊〉 might procure. B●t call to mind how long Ulysses was, In lingering absence, from his loving make: And how she deigned than her days to pass, In solitary silence for his sake. Be thou a true Penelope to me, And thou shalt soon thy own Ulysses see. What said I? soon? yea soon I say again, I will come soon and sooner if I may: Believe me now it is a pinching pain, To think of love when lovers are away. Such thoughts I have, and when I think on thee, My thoughts are there, whereas my bones would be. The longing lust which Priam's son of Troy, Had for to see his Cressyde come again: Can not exceed the depth of mine annoy, Nor seem to pass the pattern of my pain. I fryse in hope, I thaw in hot desire, far from the flame, and yet I burn like fire. Wherefore dear friend, think on the pleasures past, And let my tears▪ for both our pains suffice: The lingering joys, when as they come at last, Are bet than those, wh●ch pass in posting wise. And I myself, to prove this tale is true, In haste, post haste, thy comfort will renew. Meritum petere, grave. A letter devised for a young lover. Receive you worthy Dame this rude & ragged verse, Lend willing ear unto the tale, which I shall now rehearse. and though my witless words, might move you for to smile Yet trust to that which I shall tell, & never mark my stile. Among five hundredth Dames, presented to my view, I found most cause by due desert, to like the best of you. I see your beauty such, as seemeth to suffice, To bind my heart in links of love, by judgement of mine eyes. And but your bounty quench, the coals of quick desire, I fear the face of yours will set, ten thousand hearts on fire. But bounty so abounds, above all my desert, As that I quake & shrink for fear, to show you of my smart. Yet since mine eye made choice, my heart shall not repent, But yield itself unto your will, & therewith stand content. God knoweth I an not great, my power it is not much, The greater glory shall you gain, to show your favour such. And what I an or have, all that I yield to you, My hand & sword shall serve always, to prove my tongue is true. Than take me for your own, & so I willbe still, Believe me now, I make this vow, in hope of your good will. Which if I may obtain, God leave me when I change, This is the tale I meant to tell, good Lady be not strange. Meritum petere, grave. ¶ Three Sonnets in sequence, written upon this occasion. The deviser hereof among other friends had named a gentlewoman his Berzabe: and she was content to call him her David▪ The man presented his Lady with a Book of the Golden Ass, written by Lucius Apuleius, and in the beginning of the Book written this sequence. You must confer it with the History of Apuleius, for else it will have small grace. THis Apuleius was in Africa born, And took delight to travail Thessaly, As one that held his native soil in scorn, In foreign coasts to feed his fantasy. And such a gain as wandering wits found out, This younker woon by will and weary toil, A youth misspent, a doting age in douvt, A body brusd with many a beastly broil, A present pleasure passing on a pace, And painting plain the path of penitence, A frolic favour foiled with foul disgrace, When hoary hears should claim their reverence. Such is the fruit that grows on gadding ●réess, Such kind of mell most moveth busy Bees. For Lucius he, Esteeming more one ounce of present sport, Than elders do a pound of perfect wit: first to the bower of Beauty doth resort, And there in pleasure passed many a fit, His worthy race he (reckless) doth forget, With small regard in great affairs he réeles, Not counsel grave nor good advice can set, His brains in brake that whirled still on wheels. For if Birhena could have held him back, From Venus' Court where he now nousled was, His lusty limbs had never found the lack Of manly shape: the figure of an Ass, Had not been blazed on his blood and bones, To wound his will with torments all attonce. But Fotys she▪ Who saw this Lording whittled with the cup, Of vain delight whereof he 'gan to taste: Poured out apace and filled the Mazor up, With drunken dole, yea after that in haste. She greased this gest with sauce of Sorcery, And fed his mind with knacks both quaint and strange: Lo here the treason and the treachery, Of gadding girls when they delight to range. For Lucius thinking to become a foul, Become a fool, yea more than that, an Ass, A bodding block, a beating stock, an owl, Well wondered at in place where he did pass: And spent his time his travail and his cost, To purchase pain and all his labour lost. Yet I poor I Who make of thee my Fotys and my friend, In like delights my youthful years to spend: Do hope thou will't from such sour sauce defend, David thy King. Meritum petere grave. A Riddle. A Lady once did ask of me, This pretty thing in priuetie: Good sir (quoth she) fain would I crave, One thing which you yourself not have: Nor never had yet in times past, Nor never shall while life doth last. And if you seek to found it out, You lose your labour out of doubt: Yet if you love me as you say, Than give it me, for sure you may. Meritum petere, grave. To a gentlewoman who blamed him for writing his friendly advise in verse unto another lover of hers. THe cruel ha●e which boils within thy burning breast, And seeks to shape a sharp revenge, on them that love thee best: May warn all faithful friends, in case of jeopardy, How they shall put their harmless hands, between the bark & tree. And I among the rest, which written this weary song, Must needs allege in my defence, that thou hast done me wrong. For if i● simple verse, I chaunc●d to touch thy name, And touched the same without reproach, was I therefore to blame? And if (of great good will) I gave my best advise, Than thus to blame w t out 'cause why, me thinks thou art not wise. Among old written tales, this one I bear in mind, A simple soul much like myself, did once a serpent found. Which (almost dead for cold) lay moiling in the mire When he for pity took it up and brought it to the fire. Not sooner was the Snake, cured of her grief, But straight she sought to hurt the man, that lent her such relief. Such Serpent seemest thou, such simple soul an I, That for the weight of my good will, an blamed without cause why. But as it best beseems, the harmless gentle heart, Rather to take an open wrong, than for to plain his part: I must and will endure, thy spite without repent, The blame is mine, the triumph thy, and I an well content. Meritum petere, grave. An uncourteous farewell to an unconstant Dame. IF what you want, you (wanton) had at will, A steadfast mind, a faithful loving heart: If what you speak you would perform it still, If from your word your deed could not revert. If youthful years your thoughts did not so rule, As elder days may scorn your friendship frail: Your doubled fancy would not thus recule, For p●evish pride which now I must bewail. For Cressyde fair did Troilus never love, Moore dear than I esteemed your framed cheer: Whose wavering ways (since now I do them prove) By true report this witness with me bear: That if your friendship be not too dear bought, The price is great, that nothing gives for naught. Meritum petere, grave. A lover often warned, and once again droven into fantastical flames by the chase of company, doth thus bewail his misfortunes. I That my race of youthful years had run Always untied, and not (but once) in thrall, Even I which had the fields of freedom won, And lived at large, and played with pleasures ball: Lo now at last an ta'en again and taught, To taste such sorrows, as I never sought. I love, I love, alas I love in deed, I cry alas, but not man pities me: My wounds are wide, yet seem they not to bleed, And hidden wounds are hardly healed we see. Such is my luck to catch a sudden clap, Of great mischance in seeking my good hap. My mourning mind which dwelled and dyed in dole, Sought company for solace of the same: My cares were cold, and craved comforts coal, To warm my wile with flakes of friendly flame. I sought and found, I craved and did obtain, I woo● my wish, and yet I got not gain. For while I sought the cheer of company, Fair fellowship did wonted woes revive: And craving medicine for my malady, Dame pleasures plaster proved a corrosive. So that by mirth, I reaped not fruit but moan, Much worse I fear than when I was alone. The cause is this, my lot did light too late, The Birds were flown, before I found the nest: The stéede was stolen, before I shut the gate, The cates consumed, before I smelled the feast. And I fond fool with empty hand must call, The gorged Hawk, which likes not lure at all. Thus still I toil, to till the barren land, And grope for grapes among the bramble briars: I strive to sail and yet I stick on sand, I deem to live, yet drown in deep desires. These lots of love, are fit for wanton will, Which finds too much, yet must be seeking still. Meritum petere, grave. The lover encouraged by former examples, determineth to make virtue of necessity. WHen I record within my musing mind, The noble names of wights bewitched in love: Such solace for myself therein I found, As nothing may my fixed fancy move: But patiently I will endure my woe, Because I see the heavens ordain it so. For while I read and ryfle their estates, In every tale I note mine own annoy: But while I mark the meanings of their mates, I seem to swim in such a sugared joy, As did (percase) entice them to delight, Though turned at last, to drugs of sour despite. Peruse (who list) Dan David's perfect deeds, There shall he found the blot of Berzabe, Whereon to think, my heavy heart it bleeds, When I compare my love like her to be: Urias' wife, before mine eyes that shines, A●d David I, from duty that declines. Than Solomon this princely Prophet's son, Did Phara●s' daughter make him fall or not? Yes, es, perdie, his wisdom could not shoes, Her subtle snares, nor from her counsel go. I nam (as he) the wisest wight of all, But well I wots, a woman holds me thrall. So an I like the proud Assyrian Knight, Which blasphemed God, and all the world defied: Yet could a woman overcome his might, And daunt his force in all his pomp and pride. I Holyferne, an drunken brought to bead, My love like judith, cutting of my head. If I were strong, as some have made account, Whose force is like to that which Samson had? If I be bold, whose courage can surmount, The heart of Hercules, which nothing dread? Yet Dalila, and Deyanyraes' love, Did teach them both, such pangs as I must prove. Well let these pass, and think on Nasoes name, Whose skilful verse did flow in learned stile: Did he (think you) not dote upon his Dame? Corm● fair▪ did she not him beguile? Yes God he knows, for verse nor pleasant rhymes, Can constant keep, the key of Cressides crimes. So that to end my tale as I begun, I see the good, the wise, the stout, the bold: The strongest champion and the learnedst man, Have be●e and be, by lust of love controlled. Which when I think, I hold me well content, To live in love, and never to repent. Meritum petere, grave. The absent lover (in ciphers) deciphering his name, doth crave some speedy relief as followeth. L'Escü d'amour, the shield of perfect love, The shield of love, the force of steadfast faith, The force of faith which never will remove, But stands fast, to bide the broonts of death: That trusty targe, hath long born of the blows, And broken the thrusts, which absence at me throws. In doleful days I lead an absent life, And wound my will with many a weary thought: I pled for peace, yet starve in storms of strife, I found debate, where quiet rest was sought. These pangs with mother, unto my pain I prove, Yet bear I all upon my shield of love. In colder cares are my conceits consumed, Than Dido felt when false Aeneas fled: In far more heat, than trusty Troilus fumd, When crafty Cressyde dwelled with Diomed. My hope such frost, my hot desire such flame, That I both fryse, and smoulder in the same. So that I live, and die in one degree, Healed by hope, and hurt again with dread: Fast bond by faith when fancy would be free, Untied by trust, though thoughts enthrall my head. reviv'd by joys, when hope doth most abound, And yet with grief, in depth of dollars drowned. In these assaults I feel my feebled force Gins to faint, thus wearied still in woes: And scarcely can my thus consumed corpse, Hold up this Buckler to bear of these blows. So that I crave, or presence for relief, Or some supply, to ease mine absent grief. Lenuoie. To you (dear Dame) this doleful plaint I make, Whose only sight may sun redress my smart: Than show yourself, and for your servants sake, Make hast post haste, to help a faithful heart. Mine own poor shield hath me defended long, Now lend me yours, for else you do me wrong. Meritum petere, grave. I will now deliver unto you so many more of Master Gascoignes Poems as have come to my hands, who hath never been dainty of h●s do, and therefore I conceal not his name: but his word or posy he hath often changed and therefore I will deliver his verses with such sundry posies as I received them. And first I will begin with Gascoigns Anatomy. TO make a lover known, by plain Anatomy, You lovers all that li●● beware, lo here behold you me. Who though mine only looks, your pity well might move, Yet every part shall play his part to paint the pangs of love. If first my feeble head, have so much matter left, If fancies raging force have not his feeble skill bereft. These locks that hung unkempt, these hollow dazzled eyes, These chattering teeth, this trembling tongue, well tewed with careful cries, These wan & wrinkled cheeks, well washed with waves of woe, May stand for pattern of a ghost, where so this carcase go. These shoulders they sustain, the yoke of heavy care, And on my bruised broken back, the burden must I bear. These arms are braunfalne now, with beating on my breast, This right hand weary is to writ, this left hand craveth rest: These sides enclose the forge, where sorrow plays the smith, And hot desire, hath kindled fire, to work his metal with. The anvil is my heart, my thoughts they strike the stroke, My lights & lungs like bellowss blow, & sighs ascend for smoke. My secret parts are so with secret sorrow soken, As for the secret shame thereof, deserves not to be spoken. My thighs, my knees, my legs, and last of all my feet, To serve a lovers turn, are so unable and unmeet, That scarce they can bear up this restless body well, Unless it be to see the bower, wherein my love doth devil, And there by sight eftsoons to feed my gazing eye, And so content my hungry corpse till dolours do me die: Yet for a just reward of love so dearly bought, I pray you say, lo this was he, whom love had worn to naught. Ever or never. Gascoignes arraignment. AT Beauty's bar as I did stand, When false suspect accused me, George (quoth the judge) hold up thy hand, Thou-babes art araygnde of Flattery: Tell therefore how thou wilt be tried? Whose judgement here wilt thou abide? My lord (quoth I) this lady here, Whom I esteem above the rest, Doth know my guilt if any were: Wherhfore her doom shall please me best, Let her be judge and Iurour both, To try me guiltless by mine oath. Quod Beauty, not, it sitteth not, A Prince herself to judge the cause: Here is our justice well you wot, Appointed to discuss our laws: If you will guiltless seem to go, God and your country quit you so. Than craft the crier called a queste, Of whom was falsehood foremost féere, A pack of pickethankes were the rest, Which came false witness for to bear, The jury such, the judge unjust, Sentence was said I should be trust. jealous the jailer bound me fast, To hear the verdict of the bill, George (quoth the judge) now thou art cast, Thou-babes must go hence to heavy hill, And there be hanged all but the head, God rest thy soul when thou art dead. Down fallen I than upon my knee, All flat before dame beauties face, And cried, good Lady pardon me, Which here appeal unto your grace, You know if I have been untrue, It was in too much praising you. And though this judge do make such haste▪ To shed with shame my guiltless blood: Yet let your pity first be placed, To save the man that meant you good, So shall you show yourself a Queen, And I may be your servant seen. (Quod beauty) well: because I guess What thou dost mean henceforth to be, Although thy faults deserve not less Than justice here hath judged thee, wilt thou be bound to stint all strife, And be true prisoner all thy life? Yea madam (quoth I) that I shall, Lo faith and truth my sureties: Why than (quoth she) come when I call, I ask not better warrantise. Thus an I Beauties bound thrall, At her command when she doth call. Ever or Never. Gascoignes praise of Bridges, now Lady Sands. IN Court who so demands what dame doth most excel, For my conceit I must needs say, fair Bridges bears the bel● Upon whose lively cheek, to prove my judgement true, The Rose and Lillie seem to strive for equal change of hue: And therewithal so well her graces all agree, Not frowning cheer dare once presume in her sweet face to be. Although some lavishe lips, which like some other best, Will say the blemish on her brow disgraceth all the rest: Thereto I thus reply, God wot they little know The hidden cause of that mishap, nor how the harm did grow. For when dame nature first had framed her heavenly face, And thoroughly bedecked it with goodly gleams of grace. It liked her so well: Lo here (quoth she) a piece, For perfect shape that passes all Apelles work in Greece. This bait may chance to catch the greatest god of love, Or mighty thundering jove himself that rules the roast above: But out, alas, those words were vaunted all in vain, And some vnséen were present there (poor Bridges) to thy pain, For Cupid crafty boy, close in a corner stood, Not blyndfold than, to gaze on her, I guess it did him good▪ Yet when he felt the flame 'gan kindle in his breast, And h●rd dame nature boast by her, to break him of his rest, His hot new choose love he changed into hate, And suddenly with mighty ma●e, 'gan rap her on the pat●. It grieved Nature much to see the cruel deed: Me séemes seems I see her how she wept to see her darling bleed. Well yet (quoth she) this hurt shall have some help I trow, And quick with skin she covered it, that whiter is than snow. Wherewith Dan Cupid fled, for fear of further flame, When angel like he see her shine, whom he had smit with shame. Lo thus was Bridges hurt, in cradel of her kind, The coward Cupid broke her brow to wreak his wounded mind, The scar still there remains, not force, there let it be, There is not cloud that can eclipse so bright a sun as she. Ever or Never. Gascoignes praise of Zouche late the Lord Greye of Wilton. THese rusty walls whom cankered years deface, The comely corpse of seemly Zouche enclose, Whose ancient stock derived from worthy race, Procures her praise, where so the carcase goes: Her angel's face declares her modest mind, Her lovely looks the gazing eyes allure, Her deeds deserve some endless praise to find, To blaze such brute as ever might endure. Wherefore my pen in trembling fear shall stay, To writ the thing that doth surmount my skill, And I will wish of God both night and day, Some worthier place to guide her worthy will. Where princes peers her due deserts may see, And I content her servant there to be. Ever or Never. Gascoignes passion. I Smile sometimes although my grief be great, To hear and see these lovers paint their pain, And how they can in pleasant rhymes repeat, The passing pangs, which they in fancies feign. But if I had such skill to frame a verse I could more pain than all their pangs rehearse. Some say they found nor peace, nor power to fight, Which seemeth strange: but stranger is my state: I devil in dole, yet sojourn with delight, Reposed in rest, yet wearied with debate. For flat repulse, might well appease my will But fancy fights, to try my fortune still. Some other say they hope, yet live in dread, They friese, they flame, they fly aloft, they fall, But I nor hope with hap to rai●e my head, Nor fear to stoop, for why my gate is small. Nor can I friese, with cold to kill my heart, Nor yet so flame, as might consume my smart. How live I than, which thus draw forth my days? Or tell me how, I found this fever first? What fits I feel? what distance? what delays? What grief? what ease? what like I best? what worst? These things they tell, which seek redress of pain, And so will I, although I count it vain. I live in love, even so I love to live, (O happy state, twice happy he that finds it) But love to life this cognisance doth give, This badge this mark, to every man that mind's it, Love dareth life, which (dying) cannot die, Nor living live: and such a life lead I The sunny days which glad the saddest wights, Yet never shine to clear my misty Moon, Not quiet sleep, aredde the moonshine nights Can close mine eyes, when I an woe by go. In●o su●h shoes my peevish sorrow shrouds, That Su●●e and Moon, are s●●ll to me in clouds. And feverlike I seed my fancy still, Which such repast, as most impairs my health, Which fever first I caught by wanton will, When coals of kind did stir my blood by stealth: And gazing eyes, in beauty put such trust That love inflamed my liver all with lust. My fits are like the fever Ectyck fits, Which one day quakes within and burns without, The next day heat within the boosoms sits, And shiuring cold the body goes about. So is my heart most hot when hope is cold, And quaketh most when I most heat behold. Tormented thus without delays I stand, Always in one and evermore shall be, In greatest grief when help is nearest hand, And best at ease if death might make me free: Delighting most in that which hurts my heart, And hating change which might renew my smart. Yet you dear dame: Lenuoie. to whom this cure perteines, devise betimes some drams for my disease, A noble name shall be your greatest games, Whereof be sure, if you will work mine ease. And though fond fools set forth their fits as fast, Yet grant with me that Gascoignes passion past. Ever or Never. Gascoignes libel of Divorce. Divorce me now good death, from love and lingering life, That one hath been my concubine, that other was my wife. In youth I lived with love, she had my lusty days, In age I thought with linger l●fe to stay my wandering ways, But now abused by both, I come for to complain To thee good death, in whom my help doth wholly now remain, My libel to behold: wherein I do protest, The process of my plaint is true, wherein my grief doth rest▪ First love my concubine, whom I have kept so trim, Even she for whom I seemed of yore, in seas of joy to swim: To whom I dare avow, that I have served as well, And played my part as gallantly, as he that bears the bell: She cast me of long since, and holds me in disdain, I cannot prank to please her now, my vaunting is but vain. My writhled cheeks bewray, that pride of heat is past, My staggering steps eke tell the truth, that nature fades fast My quaking crooked joints, are cumbered with the cramp, The box of oil is wasted well, which once did feed my lamp. The gréenesse of my years, doth whither now so sore, That lusty love leaps quite away, and liketh me not more. And love my le●●man go, what liking can I take? In loathsome life that crooked crone, although she be my make? She cloys me with the cough, her comfort is but cold She bids me give mine age for alms, where first my youth was sold. Not day can pass my head, but she begins to brawl, Not merry thoughts conceived so fast, but she confounds them all. When I pretend to please, she overthwarts me still, When I would fainest part with her, she overwayes my will. Be judge than gentle death, and take my cause in hand, Consider every circumstance, mark how the case doth stand. Percase thou wilt allege, that cause thou canst no●●e see, But that I like not of that one, that other likes not me: Yes gentle judge give ear, and thou shalt see me prove, My concubine incontinent, a common whore is love. And in my wife I found, such discord and debate, As not man living can endure the torments of my state. Wherhfore thy sentence say, divorce me from them both, Since only thou mayst right my wrongs, good death now be not loath But cast thy piercing d●rt, into my panting breast, That I may leave both love & life, & thereby parchase rest. Haud ictus sapio. Gascoignes praise of his Mistress. THe hap which Paris had, as due for his desert, Who fauorde Venus for her face, & skornde Meneruas' art: May serve to warn the wise, that they not more esteem The glistering gloss of beauties blaze, than reason should it deem. Dame Priam's younger son, found out the fairest dame, That ever trod on Trojan mould, what followed of the same? I list not brute her bale, let others spread it forth, But for his part to spek my mind his choice was little worth My meaning is but this, who marks the outward show And never gropes for grafts of grace which in the mind should grow: May chance upon such choice as trusty Troilus had And dwell in dole as Paris did, when he would fain be glad. How happy than an I? whose hap hath been to find A mistress first that doth excel in virtues of the mind, And yet therewith hath joined, such favour and such grace, As Panders niece if she were here would quickly give her place, Within whose worthy breast, dame Bounty seeks to dwell. And says to beauty, yield to me, since I do thee excel. Between whose heavenly eyes, doth right remorse appear, And pity placed by the same, doth much amend her cheer. Who in my dangers deep, did deign to do me good, Who did relieve my heavy heart, and sought to save my blood, Who first increased my friends, and overthrew my foes, Who loved all them that wished me well, an liked none but those. OH Ladies give me leave, I praise her not so far, Since she doth pass you all, as much, as Titan stains a star. You hold such servants dear, as able are to serve, She held me dear, when I poor soul, could not good thing deserve. You set by them that swim in all prosperity, She set by me when as I was in great calamity. You best esteem the brave, and let the purest pass, She best esteemed my poor good will, all naked as it was. But whether an I went? what humour guide's my brain? I seek to weigh the woolsacke down, with one poor pepper grain. I seem to pen her praise, that doth surpass my skill, I strive to row against the tide, I hop against the hill. Than let these few suffice, she Helen stains for hue, Dydo for grace, Cressyde for cheer, and is as Thisbye true. Yet if you further crave, to have her name displayed, Dame favour is my mistress name, dame Fortune is her maid. Attamen ad solitum. Gascoignes Lullable. SIng lullaby, as women do, Wherewith they bring their babes to rest, And lullaby can I sing to As womanly as can the best. With lullaby they still the child, And if I be not much beguiled, Full many wanton babes have I Which must be stilled with lullaby. First lullaby my youthful years, It is now time to go to bed, For crooked age and hoary hears, Have won the haven within my head: With Lullabye than youth be still, With Lullabye content thy will, Since courage quails, and comes behind, Go sleep, and so beguile thy mind. Next Lullabye my gazing eyes, Which wonted were to glance apace: For every glass may now suffice, To show the furrows in my face: With Lullabye than wink a while, With Lullabye your looks beguile: Let not fair face, nor beauty bright Entice you eft with vain delight. And Lullabye my wanton will, Let reasons rule now reign thy thought, Since all too late I find by skill, How dear I have thy fancies bought: With Lullabye now take thine ease, With Lullabye thy doubts appease: For trust to this, if thou be still, My body shall obey thy will. Eke Lullabye my loving boy, My little Robin take thy rest, since Age is cold, and nothing coy, Keep close thy coin, for so is best: With Lullabye be thou content, With Lullabye thy lusts relent, Let others pay which have mother pennies, Thou-babes art to poor for such expense. Thus Lullaby my youth, mine eyes, My will, my ware, and all that was, I can not mother delays devise, But welcome pain, let pleasure pass: With Lullabye now take your leave, With Lullabye your dreams deceive, And when you rise with waking eye, Remember Gascoignes Lullabye, Ever or Never. Gascoignes Recantation. Now must I needs recant the words which once I spoken, Fond fancy fumes so nigh my nose, I needs must smell the smoke: And better were to bear a faggot from the fire, Than wilfully to burn and blaze in flames of vain desire. You judges than give ear, you people mark me well I say, both heaven and earth record the tale which I shall tell, And know that dread of death, nor hope of better hap, Have forced or persuaded me to take my turning cap, But even that mighty jove of his great clemency, Hath given me grace at last to judge the truth from heresy: I say than and profess, with free and faithful heart, That women's vows are nothing else but snares of secret smart: Their beauty's blaze are baits which seem of pleasant taste, But who devours the hidden hook, eats poison for repast: Their smile is deceit, their fair words trains of treason, Their wit always so full of wiles, it skorneth rules of reason. Percase some present here, have heard myself of yore, Both teach and preach the contrary, my fault was than the more: I grant my works were these, first one Anatomy, Wherein I painted every pang so loves perplexity: next that I was araignde, with George hold up thy hand, Wherein I yielded Beauties thrall, at her command to stand: Mine eyes so blinded were, (good people mark my tale) That once I song, I Bath in Bliss, amid my weary Bale: And many a frantic verse, than from my pen did pass, In waves of wicked heresy so deep I drowned was, All which I now recant, and here before you burn Those trifling books, from whose lewd lore my tippet here I turn, And henceforth will I writ, how mad is that man's mind, Which is entyst by any train to trust in womankind. I spare not wedlock I, who list that state advance, Ask Astolfe king of Lombardy, how trim his dwarf could dance. Wherhfore fair Ladies you, that hear me what I say, If you hereafter see me slip, or seem to go astray: Or if my tongue revolt from that which now it saith, Than plague me thus, Believe it not, for this is now my faith. Haud ictus sapio. I have herd master Gascoignes memory commended by these verses following, the which were written upon this occasion. He had (in midst of his youth) determined to abandon all vain delights and to return unto Greyes' Inn, there to undertake again the study of the common laws. And being required by five sundry gentlemen to wright in verse somewhat worthy to be remembered, before he entered into their fellowship, he compiled these five sundry sor●eses of metre upon five sundry themes which they delivered unto him, and the first was at request of Francis K●●welma●she who delivered him this theme Audaces fortuna juuat. And thereupon he written this Sonnet following. IF yielding fear, or cankered villainy, In Caesar's haughty heart had ta'en the charge, The walls of Rome had not been reared so high, Nor yet the mighty empire left so large. If Menelaus could have ruled his will With fowl reproach to lose his fair delight, Than had the stately towers of Troy stood still, And Greeks' with grudge had drunk their own despite. If dread of drenching waves or fear of fire, Had stayed the wandering Prince amid his race, Ascanius than, the fruit of his desire In Lavine land had not possessed place, But true it is, where lots do light by chance, There Fortune helps the boldest to advance. Sic tuli. The next was at request of Antony Kynwelma: she, who delivered him this theme, Satis sufficit, and thereupon he wrote as followeth. THe vain excess of flattering Fortunes gifts, Enuenometh the mind with vanity, And beats the restless brain with endless drifts To stay the staff of worldly dignity: The beggar stands in like extremity. Wherhfore to lack the most, and leave the lest, I count enough as good as any feast. By too too much Dan Croesus caught his death, And bought with blood the price of glittering gold, By too too little many one lacks breath And strives in streets a mirroure to behold: So pride for heat, and povert pines for cold. Wherhfore to lack the most, and leave the lest, I count enough as good as any feast. Store makes not sore, lo this seems contrary, And mother the merrier is a Proverb eke, But store of sores may make a malady, And one to many makes some to seek, When two be met that bankette with a leek: Wherhfore to lack the most, and leave the lest, I coumpte enough as good as any feast. The rich man surfetteth by gluttony, Which feedeth still, and never stands content, The poor again he pines for penury, Which lives with lack, when all and more is spent: So too much and too little both be shente. Wherhfore to lack the most, and leave the lest, I coumpte enough as good as any feast. The Conqueror with uncontented sway, Doth raise up rebels by his avarice, The recreaunt doth yield himself a pray, To foreign soil by sloth and cowardyse: So too much and too little, both be vice. Wherhfore to lack the most, and leave the lest. I coumpte enough as good as any feast. If so thy wife be too too fair of face, It draws one guest (too many) to thine inn: If she be fowl, and foiled with disgrace, In other pillows prickst thou many a pin: So fowl prove fools, and fairer fall to sin. Wherhfore to lack the most, and leave the lest, I coumpte enough as good as any feast. And of enough, enough, and now not more, Because my brains not better can devise, When things be ●adde, a small sum makes store. So of such verse a few may soon suffice: Yet still to this my weary pen replies. That I said last, and though you like it lest, It is enough, and as good as a feast. Sic tuli, john Vaughan delivered him this theme. Magnum vectigal parcimonia, vvherevppon he wrote thus. THe common speech is, spend and God will sand, But what sends he? a bottle and a bag, A staff, a wallet and a woeful end, For such as list in bravery so to brag. Than if thou covet come enough to spend, Learn first to spare thy budget at the brink, So shall the bottom be the faster bond: But he that list with lavish hand to link, (In like expense) a penny with a pound, May chance at last to sit aside and shrink His harbraind head without dame dainties door. Hick, Hobbe and Dick with clouts upon their knee, Have many times more goonhole groats in store, And change of crowns more quick at call than he, Which let their lease and took their rent before. For he that raps a royal on his cap, Before he put one penny in his purse, Had need turn quick and broach a better tap, Or else his drink may chance go down the worse. I not deny but some men have good hap, To climb aloft by scales of courtly grace, And win the world with liberality: Yet he that yerks old angels out apace, And hath not new to purchase dignity, When orders fall, may chance to lack his grace. For haggard hawks mislike an empty ha●d: So stiffly some stick to the mercer's stall, Till suits of silk have sweat out all their land. So oft thy neighbour's banquet in thy hall, Till Davie Debet in thy parlour stand, And bids thee welcome to thy own decay. I like a Lions looks not worth a leek When every Fox beguyles him of his pray: What sauce but sorrow serveth him a week, Which all his cates consumeth in one day? first use thy stomach to a stand of ale, Before thy Malmsey come in merchants books, And rather wear (for shift) thy shirt of male, Than tear thy silken sleeves with teynterhooks hooks. Put feathers in thy pillows great and small, Let them be princkt with plumes that gape for plums, Heap up both gold and silver safe in hooches, Catch, snatch, and scratch for scrape and for crumbs, Before thou deck thy hat (on high) with brooches. Let first thine one hand hold fast all that comes, Before that other learn his letting fly: Remember still that soft fire makes sweet malt, Not haste but good (who means to multiply:) Bought wit is dear, and dressed with sour salt, Repentance comes to late, and than say I, Who spares the first and keeps the last unspent, Shall find that Sparing yields a goodly rent. Sic tuli. Alexander Nevile delivered him this theme, Sat cito, si sat been, whereupon he compiled these seven Sonnets in sequence, therein bewraying his own Nimis cito: and therewith his Vix bene, as followeth. IN haste post haste, when first my wandering mind, Beheld the glistering Court with gazing eye, Such deep delights I seemed therein to find, As might beguile a graver guest than I The stately pomp of Princes and their peers, Did seem to swim in flouddes of beaten gold, The wanton world of young delightful years, Was not unlike a heaven for to behold, Wherein did swarm (for every saint) a Dame, So fair of hue, so fresh of their attire, As might excel dame Cynthia for Fame, Or conquer Cupid with his own desire. These and such like were baits that blazed still Before mine eye to feed my greedy will. 2 Before mine eye to feed my greedy will, 'Gan muster eke mine old acquainted mates, Who helped the dish (of vain delight) to fill My empty mouth with dainty delicates: And foolish boldness took the whip in hand, To lash my life into this trustless trace, Till all in haste I leapt aloof from land, And hoist up soil to catch a Courtly grace: Each lingering day did seem a world of woe, till in that halplesse haven my head was brought: Waves of wanhope so tossed me too and and from, In deep despair to drown my dreadful thought: Each hour a day, each day a year did seem, And every year a world my will did deem. 3 And every year a world my will did deem, Till lo, at last, to Court now an I come, A seemly swain, that might the place beseem, A gladsome guest embraced of all and some: Not there content with common dignity, My wandering eye in haste, (yea post post haste) Beheld the blazing badge of bravery, For want whereof, I thought myself disgraced: Than péeuishe pride puffed up my swelling heart, To further forth so hot an enterprise: And comely cost began to play his part, In praising patterns of mine own devise: Thus all was good that might be got in haste, To prinke me up, and make me higher placed. 4 To prinke me up and make me higher placed, All came to late that tarried any time, Pills of provision pleased not my taste, They made my heels too heavy for to climb: Me thought it best that boughs of boisterous oak, Should first be shred to make my feathers gay, till at the last a deadly dinting stroke, Brought down the bulk with edgetooles of decay: Of every farm I than let fly a lease, To feed the purse that paid for péeuishnesse, Till rent and all were fallen in such disease, As scarce could serve to maintain cleanlynesse: The bough, the bo●ie, ●yne, ferme, lease and land, All were too little for the merchants hand. 5 All were too little for the merchants hand, And yet my brauerye bigger than his book: But when this hot account was coldly scanned, I thought high time about me for to look: With heavy cheer I cast my head aback, To see the fountain of my furious race, Compared my loss, my living, and my lack, In equal balance with my iolye grace, And saw expenses grating on the ground Like lumps of lead to press my purse full oft, When light reward and recompense were found, fleeting like feathers in the wind aloft: These thus compared, I left the Court at large, For why? the gains doth seldom quit the charge. For why? the gains doth seldom quit the charge, And so say I, by proof too dearly bought, My haste made waste, my brave and brainsick barge, Did float to fast, to catch a thing of naught: Wit● leisure, measure, mean, and many mother, I mought have kept a chair of quiet state, But hasty heads can not be settled so, Till crooked Fortune give a crabbed mate: As busy brains must beat on tickle toys, As rash invention breeds a raw devise, So sudden falls do hinder hasty joys, And as swift baits do fléetest fish entice, So haste makes waste, and therefore now I say, Not haste but good, where wisdom makes the way. Not haste but good, where wisdom makes the way, For proof whereof we see the silly snail, Who seas the soldiers carcase cast away, With hot assault the Castle to assail, By line and leisure climes the lofty brickwall, And wins the turrettes top more cunningly, Than doughty Dick, who lost his life and all, With hoisting up his head too hastily: The swiftest bitch brings forth the blyndest whelps, The hottest Fevers coldest cramps ensue, The nakedst need hath ever latest helps: With Nevyle then I find this proverb true, That Haste makes waste, and therefore still I say, Not haste but good, where wisdom makes the way. Sic tuli. Richard Courtop (the last of the five) gave him this theme, Durum aneum & miserab●le aewm, and thereupon he written in this wise. WHen peerless Prince's courts were free from flattery, The justice from unequal doom, the queste from perjury, The pillars of the state, from proud presumption, The clerk from heresy, the Commons from rebellion: Than right rewards were given, by sway of due desert, Than virtues darlings might be placed aloft to play their part: Than might they count it true, that hath been said of old, The children of those happy days were born in beds of gold, And swaddled in the same: the Nurse that gave them suck, Was wife to Liberality, and leman to Good luck. When Caesar won the field, his captains caught the towns, And every painful soldiers purse was crammed full of crowns. Lycurgus for good laws, lost his own liberty, And thought it better to prefer common commodity. But now the times are turned, it is not as it was, The gold is go, the silver sunk, and nothing left but brass. To see a king encroache, what wonder should it seem, When commons cannot be content, with country Dyade●me? The Prince may die a babe, trust up by treachery, Where vain ambition doth move trustless nobility. Errors in pulpit preach, where faith in préesthood fails, Promotion (not devotion) is cause why clergy quails. Thus is the stage stakt out, where all these parts be played, And I the prologue should pronounce, but that I an afraid. First Cayphas plays the priest, and Herode sits as king, pilate the judge, judas the Iurour verdict in doth bring, Uayne tattling plays the vice, well clad in rich array. And poor Tom Troth is laughed to scorn, garments nothing gay▪ The woman wantonness, she comes with 'ticing train, Pride in her pocket plays bo peep, and bawdry in her brain. Her handmaids be deceit, danger, and dalliance, Riot and Revel follow her, they be of her alliance: next these comes in Simme Swash, to see what stir they keep, Climme of the Clough them takes his heels, 'tis time for him to creep: To pack the pageaunt up, comes Sorrow with a song, He says these jests can get not groats, & all this gear goes wrong: first pride without cause, why he sings the triple part, The mean he mumbles out of tune, for lack of life and heart: Cost lost, the counter Tenor chanteth on apace, Thus all in discords stands the cliff, and beggary sings the base. The players lose their pains, where so few pens are stirring, Their garments wear for lack of gains, & fret for lack of furring When all is done and passed, was not part played but one, For every player played the fool, till all be spent and go. And thus this foolish jest, I put in doggerel rhyme, Because a crosier staff is best, for such a crooked time. Sic Tuli. And thus an end of these sieve themes, wherein hath been noted, that as the themes were sundry and altogether divers, so Master Gascoigne did accomplish them in five sundry sorts of metre, yea and that seems most strange, he devised all these admounting to the number of. CCLVIII verses, riding by the way, writing none of them until he came at the end of his lourney, the which was not longer than one day in riding, one day in varying with his friend, and the third in returning to Greys' lnne: a small time for such a task, neither would I willingly undertake the like. The meetres are but rough in many places, and yet are they true (cum licentia poetica) and I must needs confess, that he hath more commonly been over curious in delectation, than of haughty stile in his dilatations. And therefore let us pas●● to the rest of his works. Gascoignes gloze upon this text, Dominus ijs opus habet. MY reckless race is run, green youth and pride be past, My riper mellowed years begin to follow on as fast. My glancing looks are go, which wont were to pry In every gorgeous garish glass that glistred in mine eye. My sight is now so dim, it can behold none such, Not mirroure but the merry mean, can please my fancy much●, And in that noble glass, I take delight to view, The fashions of the wont world, compared by the new. For mark who list to look, each man is for himself, And beats his brain to hoard & heap this trash & worldly pelf. O●r hands are closed up, great gifts go not abroad, Few men will lend a lock of hay, but for to gain a load. Give Gave is a good man, what need we lash it out, The world is wondrous fearful now, for danger bids men doubt. And ask how chanceth this? or what means all this meed? Forsooth the common answer is, because the Lord hath need. A noble jest by gisse, I found it in my glass, The same fréehold our saviour Christ, conveyed to his ass. A text to try the truth, and for this time full fit, For where should we our lessons learn, but out of holy writ? First mark our only God, which ruleth all the roast, He sets a side all pomp and pride, wherein fond worldlings boast, He is not fed with calves, as in the days of old, He cares but little for their copes, that glister all of gold. His train is not so great, as filthy Satan's band, A smaller herd may serve to feed, at our great master's hand. He likes not numbered prayers, to purchase popish meed, He asks not more but penitence, thereof Cur Lord hath need: Next mark the heathens Gods, and by them shall we see, They be not now so good fellows, as they were want to be. jove, Mars, and Mercury, Dame Venus and the rest, They banquet not as they were want, they know it were not best: They shrink into the clouds, and there they serve out need, As planets and signs movable, by destinies decreed. So kings and princes both, have left their halls at large, Their privy chambers cost enough, they cut of every charge: And when an office falls, as chance sometimes may be, First keep it close a year or twain, than geld it by the see. And give it out at last, but yet with this proviso, (A bridle for a brainsick jade) durant bene placito. Some think these ladders low, to climb aloft with speed: Well let them creep at leisure them, for sure the Lord hath need. Duke's Earls and Barons bold, have learned like lesson now, They break up house and come to court, they live not by the plough▪ Percase their rooms be scant, not like their stately bower, A field bed in a corner couched, a pallad on the flower. But what for that? not force, they make thereof not boast, They feed themselves with delycates, and at the princess' cost. And as for all their men, their pages and their swains, They cloak them up with chines of beef, to multiply their gains. Themselves lie near to look, when any leaf doth fall, Such croomes were want to feed poor grooms, but now the Lords lick al. And why? o sir, because, both dukes & lords have need, I mock not I, my text is true, believe it as your creed. Our prelate's and our priests, can tell this text with me, They can hold fast their fattest fermes, and let not lease go free. They have both wife and child, which may not be forgot, The scriptures say the Lord hath neeed, & therefore blame them not. Than come a little lower, unto the country knight, The squire and the gentleman, they leave the country quite, Their halls were all to large, their tables were to long, The clouted shoes came in so fast, they kept to great a throng, And at the porters lodge, where lubbers want to feed, The porter learns to answer now, hence hence the Lord hath need His gests came in to thick, their diet was to great, Their horses eat up all the hey, which should have fed his neat: Their teeth were far to fine, to seed on pork and souf●, Five flocks of sheep could scarce maintain good mutton for his house. And when this count was cast, it was not biding here, Unto the good town is he go, to make his friends good cheer, And welcome there that will, but shall I tell you how? At his own dish he feedeth them, that is the fashion now, Side boards be laid aside, the table's end is go, His cook shall make you noble cheer, but ostler hath he none. The chargers now be changed, wherein he want to eat, An old fruit dish is big enough to hold a iointe of meat, A salad or a sauce, to taste your cates with all, Some strange devise to ●éede man's eyes, man's stomachs now be small. And when the tenants come to pay their quarters rend, They bring some fowl at Midsummer, & a dish of Fish in Lent, At Christmas a capon, at Mighte●masse a goose: And somewhat else at Newyeres tied, for fear their lease fly lose. Good reason by my troth, when Gentlemen lack groats, Let Plowmen pinch it out for pennies, and patch their russet coats: For better farmers fast, than Manor houses fall, The Lord hath need, than says the text, bring old Ass, colt and all. Well lowest now at last, let see the country lout, And mark how he doth swink & sweat to bring this gear about: His feast be but few, cast whipstockes clouse his shoes, The wheaten loaf is locked up, as soon as dinners done: And where he wont to keep a lubber, two or three, Now hath he learned to keep not more but Sim him son and he, His wife and Mawde his maid, a boy to pitch the cart, And turn him up at Hal●ontyde, to feel the winters smart: Dame Alyson his wife doth know the price of meal, Her bridecakes be not half so big as she was want to steal: She wears not silver hooks, she is content with worse, Her pendants and her silver pings she putteth in her purse. Thus learn I by my glass, that merry mean is best, And he most wise that fynds the mean to keep his tackling best. Perchance some open mouth will mutter now and than, And at the market tell his mate, our landlords a zore man: He racketh up our rents, and keeps the best in hand, He makes a wondrous deal of good out of his own measne land: Yea let such pelters prate, saint Needam be their speed, We need not text to answer them, but this, The Lord hath need. Ever or never. Gascoignes good morrow. YOu that have spent the silente night In sleep and quiet rest, And joy to see the cheerful light That riseth in the East: Now clear your voice, now cheer your heart, Come help me now to sing: Each willing wight come bear a part, To praise the heavenly King. And you whom care in prison keeps, Or sickness doth suppress, Or secret sorrow breaks your sleeps, Or dolours do distress: Yet bear a part in doleful wise, Yea think it good accord, And acceptable sacrifice, Each spirit to praise the Lord. The dreadful night with darksome storme● Had overspread the light, And sluggish sleep with drowsynesse, Had ouerpreste our might: A glass wherein we may behold Each storm that stops our breath, Our bed the grave, our clothes like mould, And sleep like dreadful death. Yet as this deadly night did last, But for a little space, And heavenly day now night is paste, Doth show his pleasant face: So must we hope to see God's face, At last in heaven on high, When we have changed this mortal place, For Immortality. And of such haps and heavenly joys, As then we hope to hold, All earthly sights, all worldly toys, Are tokens to behold: The day is like the day of doom, The sun, the Son of man, The skies the heavens, the earth the tomb Wherein we rest till than. The Raynbowe bending in the sky, Bedecked with sundry hews, Is like the seat of God on high, And seems to tell these news: That as thereby he promised To drown the world not more, So by the blood which Christ hath shed, He will our health restore. The misty clouds that fall sometime, And ouercaste the skies, Are like to troubles of our time, Which do but dim our eyes: But as such dews are dried up quite, When Phoebus shows his face, So are such fancies put to flight, Where God doth guide by grace. The carrion crow, that loathsome beast, Which cries against the rain, Both for her hue and for the rest, The Devil resembles plain: And as with goonnes we kill the Crow, For spoiling our relief, The Devil so must we overthrow, With goonshot of belief. The little Birds which sing so sweet, Are like the angel's voice, Which tender God his praises meet, And teach us to rejoice: And as they more esteem that mirth, Than dread the nights annoy, So must we deem our days on earth, But hell to heavenly joy. Unto which joys for to attain, God grant us all his grace, And send us after worldly pain, In heaven to have a place. Where we may still enjoy that light, Which never shall decay: Lord for thy mercy lend us might To see that joyful day. Haud ictus sapio. Gascoignes good night. WHen thou hast spent the lingering day in pleasure and delight, Or after toil and weary way, dost seek to rest at night: Unto thy pains or pleasures past, add this one labour yet, E'er sleep close up thine eye too fast, do not thy God forget, But search within thy secret thoughts what deeds did thee befall: And if thou find amiss in aught, to God for mercy call: Yea though thou found nothing amiss, which thou canst call to mind Yet evermore remember this, there is the more behind: And think how well soever it be, that thou hast spent the day, It came of God, and not of thee, so to direct thy way. Thus if thou try thy daily deeds, and pleasure in this pain, Thy life shall cleanse thy corn from weeds, & thy shall be the gain: But if thy sinful sluggish eye, will venture for to wink, Before thy wading will may try, how far thy soul may sink, Beware and wake, for else thy bed, which soft & smooth is made, May heap more harm upon thy head, than blows of enemies shoulder-blade. Thus if this pain procure thy ●ase, in bed as thou dost lie, Perhaps it shall not God displease, to sing thus soberly: I see that sleep is lent me here, to ease my weary bones, As death at last shall eke appear, to ease my grievous groans. My daily sports, my paunch full ●ed, have caused my drowsy eye, As careless life in quiet led, might 'cause my soul to die: The streking arms, the yawning breath, which I to bedward use, Are patterns of the pangs of death, when life will me refuse: And of my bed each sundry part in shadows doth resemble The sundry shapes of death, whose dart sh●l make my flesh to tremble, My bed itself is like the grave, my sheeets the winding sheet, My clotheses the mould which I must have to cover me most mée●: The hungry fleas which frisk so fresh, to worms I can compare▪ Which greedily shall gnaw my flesh, and leave the bones full bore: The waking Cock that early crows to wear the night away, Puts in my mind the trump that blows before the latter day▪ And as I rise up lustily, when sluggish sleep is paste, So hope I to rise joyfully, to judgement at the last. Thus will I wake, thus will I sleep, thus will I hope to rise, Thus will I neither wail nor weep, but sing in godly wise. My bones shall in this bed remain, my soul in God shall trust, By whom I hope to rise again from death and earthly dust. Haud ictus sapio. These good Morrow and good night, together with his Passion, his Libel of divorce, his Lullabye, his Recantation, his De profundus, and his farewell, have very sweet notes adapted unto them: the which I would you should also enjoy as well as myself. For I know you ●ill, delight to hear them. As also other very good notes which I have for divers other Ditties of other man's devise which I have before rehearsed. Gascoignes De profundis. The occasion of the writing hereof (as I have herd Master Gascoigne say) was this, riding alone between Chelmisforde and London, his mind mu●ed upon the d●yeses past, and therewithal he 'gan accuse his own conscience of much time misspent, when a great shower of rain did overtake him, and he being unprepared for the same, as in a lerken without a cloak, the wether being very fair and unlikely to have changed so: he begun to accuse him ●elfe of his carelessness, and thereupon in his good disposition compiled first this sonnet, and afterwards, the translated Psalm of Deprofundis as here followeth. THe Skies 'gan scowl, o'ercast with misty clo●deses, When (as I road alone by London way, Clokelesse, unclad) thus did I sing and say: Behold quoth I, bright Titan how he shrouds His head aback, and yields the rain his reac●. Till in his wrath, Dan ●ove have soused the 〈◊〉, And washed me wretch which in his travail toil. But holla (hear) doth rudeness me apeach, Since jove is Lord and king of mighty power, Which can command the sun to show his face, And (when him list) to give the rain his place. Why do not I my weary muses frame, (Although I be well soused in this shower,) To wright some verse in honour of his name? Gascoignes council to Douglasse Dive written upon this occasion. She had a book wherein she had collected sundry good ditties of divers man's do, in which book she would needs entreat him to write some verses. And thereupon he wrote as followeth. TO bind a bush of thorns among sweet smelling flowers, May make the posy seem the worse, and yet the fault is ours. For throw away the thorn, and mark what will ensue, The posy then will show itself, sweet, fair, and fresh of hue. A puttock set on pearche, fast by a falcons side, Will quickly show itself a kite, as time hath often tried. And in my musing mind, I fear to find like fall, As just reward to recompense my rash attempts withal. Thou-babes bidst, and I must bow, thou will't that I shall writ, Thou-babes canst command my weary muse some verses to indite. And yet perdie, thy book is fraught with learned verse, Such skill as in my musing mind I can none like rehearse. What follows than for me? but if I must needs writ, To set down by the falcons side, myself a silly kite. And yet the silly kite, well weighed in each degree, May serve sometimes (as in his kind) for man's commodity. The kite can weed the worm, from corn and costly ●éedess, The kite can kill the ●●owl●iwarpe, in pleasant meads that breeds: Out of the stately streets, the kite can cleanse the filth, As men can cleanse the worthless weeds, from fruitful fallowed tilth. And only set aside the hens poor progeny, I cannot see who can accuse the kite for felony. The falcon, she must feed on partritch, and on quail, A pigeon, plover, duck and drake, hearne, lapwing, teal, & ●aile, Her hungry throat devours both food and dainty fare, Whereby I take occasion, thus boldly to compare. And as a silly kite, (not falcon like that fly, Nor yet presume to hover by mount Hellycon on high) I friendly yet presume, upon my friends request, In barreine verse to show my skill, than take it for the best. And Douty Douglas●e thou, that art of falcons kind, Give willing ear yet to the kite, and bear his words in mind. Serve thou first God thy Lord, and praise him evermore, Obey thy Prince and love thy make, by him set greatest store. Thy Parents follow next, for honour and for awe, Thy friends use always faithfully, for so command's the law. Thy seemly self at last, thou shalt likewise regard, And of thyself this lesson learn, and take it as reward: That look how far deserts, may seem in thee to shine, So far thou mayst set out thyself, without impeach or crime. For this I dare a●●w, without self love (alight) It can scarce be that virtue devil, in any earthly wight. But if in such self love, thou seem to wade so far, As fall to fowl presumption, and judge thyself a star, Beware betimes and think, in our Etymology, Such faults are plainly called pride, and in french Surquydrye. Lo thus can I poor kite, adventure for to teach, The falcon fly, and yet forewarn, she row not passed her reach. Thus can I weed the worm, which seeketh to devour The seeds of virtue, which might grow within thee every hour. Thus can I kill the mole, which else would overthrow The good foundation of thy fame, with every little blow. And thus can I convey, out of thy comely breast, The sluttish heaps of p●evish pride, which might defile the rest. Perchance some falcons fly, which will not greatly grudge, To learn thee first to love thyself, and than to love to much. But I an none of those, I list not so to range, I have man's meat enough at home, what need I them seek change. I an not peacock I: my feathers be not gay, And though they were, I see my feet such fond affects to stay. I list not set to sale a thing so little, worth, I rather could keep close my crease, than seek to set it forth. Wherhfore if in this verse, which thou command's to flow, Thou-babes chance to fall on construing, whereby some doubts may grow, Yet grant this only boon, peruse it twice or thrice, Digest it well ear thou condemn the depth of my devise. And use it like the nut, first crack the outward shell, Than try the kernel by the taste, and it may please thee well. Do not as barbers do, which wash beards curiously, Than cut them of, than cast them out, in open streets to lie. Remember therewithal, my money is tied in chains, The goonshot of calamity hath battered all my brains. And though this verse scape out, take thou thereat not mark, It is but like a heedless fly, that tumbleth in the dark. It was thy own request, remember so it was, Wherhfore if thou dislike the same, than licence it to pass Into my breast again, from whence it flew in haste, Full like a kite which not deserves by falcons to be placed: And like a stubbed thorn, which may not seem to serve, To stand with such sweet smelling flowers, like praises to deserve. Yet take this harmless thorn, to pick thy teeth withal, A tooth pick serves some use perdie, although it be but small. And when thy teeth therewith, be piked fair and clean, Than bend thy to●g not worse to me, than mine to thee hath been. Ever or Never. Gascoignes council given to master Bartholomew Withipoll a little before his latter journey to Geane. 1572. MIne own good Bat, before thou hoist up sail, To make a furrowe in the foaming seas, Content thyself to hear for thy avail, Such harmless words, as aught thee not displease. First in thy journey, gape not over much, What? laughest thou Batte, because I writ so plain? Bléeue me now it is a friendly touch, To use few words where friendship doth remain. And for I find, that fault hath run to fast, Both in thy flesh, and fancy to sometime, Me thinks plain dealing biddeth me to cast This bone at first amid my doggerel rhyme. But shall I say, to give thee grave advise? (Which in my head is (God he knows) full geason)? Than mark me well, and though I be not wise, Yet in my rhyme, thou mayst perhaps found reason. First every day, beseech thy God on 〈◊〉, So to direct thy staggering steps alway, That he which every secret thought doth see May hold thee in, when thou wouldst go astray: And that he deign to send thee safe retoure, And quick dispatch of that which is thy due: Let this my Bat be both thy prime and hour, Wherein also commend to Nostre Dieu. Thy good Companion and my very friend, To whom I should (but time would not permit) Have taken pain some ragged rhyme to send In trusty token, that I not forget His courtesy: but this is debt to thee, I promysde it, and now I mean to pay: What was I saying? sirrah, will you see How soon my wits were wandering astray? I say, pray thou for thee and for thy mate, So shipmen sing, and though the note be plain, Yet sure the music is in heavenly state, When friends sing so, and know not how to fain. Than next to GOD, thy Prince have still in mind, Thy countries honour, and the common wealth: And flee from them, which fled with every wind From native soil, to foreign coasts by stealth: Their trains are trustless, tending still to treason, Their smoothed tongues are lined all with guile, Their power slender, scarcely worth two peason, Their malice much, their wits are full of wile: Eschew them than, and when thou seest them, say, Dam, da, sir KING, I may not come at you, You cast a snare your country to betray, And would you have me trust you now for true? Remember Batte the foolish blinkeyed boy Which was at Rome, thou knowest whom I mean, Remember eke the pretty beardless toy, Whereby thou foundst a safe return to Geane, Do so again: (God shield thou shouldst have need,) But rather so, than to forswear thyself: A loyal heart, (believe this as thy Creed) Is evermore more worth than worldly pelf. And for one lesson, take this more of me, There are three Ps almost in every place, From which I counsel thee always to flee, And take good heed of them in any case, The first is poison, perilous in deed To such as travail with a heavy purse: And thou my Bat beware, for thou haste need, Thy purse is lined with paper, which is worse: Thy bills of credit will not they thinkest thou, Be bait to set Italyan hands on work? Yes by my faith, and never worse than now, When every knave hath leisure for to lurk, And knoweth thou comest for the shells of Christ: Beware therefore, where ever that thou go, It may fall out that thou shalt be entiste To sup sometimes with a Magnifico, And have a fico foisted in thy dish, Because thou shouldst digest thy meat the better: Beware therefore, and rather feed on fish, Than learn to spell fine flesh with such a Letter. Some may present thee with a pound or twain Of Spanish soap to wash thy linen white: Beware therefore, and think it were small gain, To save thy shirt, and cast thy skin of quite: Some cunning man may teach thee for to ride, And stuff thy saddle all with Spanish wool, Or in thy stirrups have a toy so tied, As both thy legs may swell thy buskins full: Beware therefore, and bear a noble port, Drink not for thirst before an other taste: Let none outlandishe Tailor take disport To stuff thy doublet full of such Bombast, As it may cast thee in unkindly sweat, And 'cause thy hair ꝑ company to glide, Strangers are fine in many a proper feat: Beware therefore, the second P. is Pride, Moore perilous than was the first by far, For that infectes but only blood and bones, This poisons all, and minds of men doth mar, It findeth nooks to creep in for the nonce: first from the mind it makes the heart to swell, From thence the flesh is pampered every part, The skin is taught in Dyers shops to devil, The hair is curlde or frizzled up by art: Believe me Bat, our Countrymen of late Have caught such knacks abroad in foreign land, That most men call them Devils incarnate, So singular in their conceits they stand: Now sir, if I shall see your maistershippe Come home disguysde and clad in quaint array, As with a pyketoothe biting on your lip, Your brave Mustachyos turned the Turkey way, A Coptanckt hat made on a Flemmishe block, A nyghtgowne cloak down trailing to your ●oess, A slender slop close couched to your dock, A curtold slipper, and a short silk hose: Bearing your Rapier point above the hilt, And looking big like Marquis of all Beef, Than shall I coumpte your toil and travail spilled, Because my second PEA, with you is chief. But forwards now, although I stand a while, My hindmost PEA, is worse than both these two, For it both soul and body doth defile, With fouler faults than both those other do. Short tale to make, this is a double P, (God shield my Bat, should bear it in his breast) And with a dash it spelleth Papistry, A perilous P, and woorsse than both the rest: Now though I find not cause for to suspect My Bat in this, because he hath been tried, Yet since the polshorne Prelates can infect Kings, Emperors, Princes, and the world so wide. And since their brazen heaven bears such a gloss, As most that travail come home ꝑ Papist, Or else much woorsse (which is a heavy less) Drowned in errors like an Atheist: Therefore I thought it meet to warn my friend Of this foul PEA, and so an end of Ps. Now for thy diet mark my tale to end, And thank me than, for that is all my fees. See thou exceed not in three double Us, The first is Wine, which may inflame thy blood, The second, Women, such as haunt the stews, The third is Wilfulness, which doth not good. These three eschew, or temper them always: So shall my Bat prolong his youthful years, And see long George again, with happy days, Who if he be as faithful to his fears, As he was wont, will daily pray for Bat, And for Pencoyde: and if it fall out so, That Iames a Parrye do but make good that, Which he hath said: and if he be (not, not) The best companion that long George can find, Than at the Spavve I promise for to be In August next, if God turn not my mind, Where as I would be glad thyself to see: till than farewell, and thus I end my song, Take it in 'gree, for else thou dost me wrong. Ha●d ictus sapi●. Gascoignes Epitaph upon captain Bourcher late slain in the wars in Zel●●d●, the which hath been termed the tale of a stone as followeth. Fie Captains fie, your tongues are tied to close, Your soldiers eke by silence purchase shame: Can not man pen in metre nor in prose, The life, the death, the valiant acts, the fame, The birth, behaviour, nor the noble name, Of such a féere as you in sight have lost? Alas such pains would quickly quite the cost. Bourcher is dead, whom each of you did know, Yet not man writes one word to paint his praise, His spirit on high, his carcase here below, Do both condemn your doting idle days: Yet cease they not to sound his worthy ways, Who lived to die, and died again to live, With death dear bought, he did his death forgive. He might for birth have boasted noble race, Yet were his manners meek and always m●lde, Who gave a guess by gazing on his face, And judged thereby, might quickly be beguiled: In fielke a lion and in town a child, Fierce to his foe, but courteouse to his friend. Alas the while, his life so soon should end? To serve his Prince his life was ever priest, To serve his God, his death he thought but dew, In all attempts as froward as the best, And all to forward which we all may rue, His life so showed, his death eke tried it true: For where God's foes in thickest press did stand, Bourcher caught bane with bloody sword in hand. And mark the courage of a noble heart, When he in bed lay wounded wondrous sore, And herded alarm, he soon forgot his smart, And called for arms to show his service more: I will to fielde● quoth he) and God before. Which said, he sailed into more quiet coast, Still praising God, and so gave up the ghost. Now muse not reader though we stones can speak, Or writ sometimes the deeds of worthy one's, I could not hold although my heart should break, Because here by me buried are his bones, But I must tell this tale thus for the nonce. When men cry mum and keep such silence long, Than stones must speak, else dead men shall have wrong. Finis ꝙ Marmaduke M●rbl●stone. Gascoignes devise of a mask for the right honourable Viscount Montacute, written (as I have herded Master Gascoigne himself declare) upon this occasion, when the said L. had prepared to solemnize two marriages between his son and heir and the daughter of sir William Do●mer knight, and between the son and heir of sir William Dormer, and the daughter of the said L. Montacute: there were eight gentlemen (all of blood or a●●iance to the said L. Montacute) which had determined to present a mask at the day appointed for the said marriages, and so far they had proceeded therein, that they had already bought furniture of silks. &c. and had caused their garments to be cut of the Venetian fashion. New then they begun to imagin● that (without some special demonstration) it would seem somewhat obscure to have Venetians presented rather than other country men. Whereupon ●hey entreated Master Gascoigne to devi●e some verses to be uttered by an Actor wherein might be some discourse convenient to tender a good cause of the Venetians presence. Master Gascoigne calling to mind that there is a noble house of the Mountac●teses in Italy, and therewithal that the L. Montacute here doth quarter the cote of an ancient english gentleman called Mounth●rme, and ●ath the inheritance of the said house, did thereupon devise to bring in ● Boy of the age of twelve or fourteen. years, who should fain that he was a Mounthermer by the father's side, and a Mou●tacute by the mother's side, and that his father being slain at the last wars against the Tu●ke, and he there taken, he was recovered by the Venetians to their last victory, and with them sailing towards Venice, they were driven by tempest upon these coasts, and so came to the marriage upon report as followeth, and the said Boy pronounced the devise in this ●orte. WHat wonder you my Lords? why gaze you gentlemen? And wherefore marvel you mez Dames, I pray you tell me than? Is it so rare a sight, or yet so strange a toy, Among so many noble peers, to see one Pover Boy? Why? boy's have been allowed in every kind of age, As Ganymede that pretty boy, in Heaven is jove his page. Cupid that mighty God although his force be fierce, Yet is he but a naked boy, as Poets do rehearse. And many a pretty boy a mighty man hath proved, And served his Prince at all assays deserving to be loved. Percase my strange attire my glittering golden gite, Doth either make you marvel thus, or move you with delight. Yet wonder not my Lords for if your honours please, But even to give me ear awhile, I will your doubts appease. And you shall know the cause, wherefore these robes are worn, And why I go outlandish like, yet being english born. And why I thus presume, to press into this place, And why I (simple boy) an bold to look such men in face. First then you must per stand, I an not stranger I, But english boy, in England born, and bread but even hereby. My father was a knight Mount Hermer was his name, My mother of the Mountacutes, a house of worthy fame. My father from his youth was trained up in field, And always took his chief delight, in helmet spear and shield. Soldado for his life, and in his happy days Soldado like hath lost his life, to his immortal praise. The thundering fame which blew about the world so wide, How that the christian enemy, the Turk that prince of pride, Addressed had his power, to swarm upon the seas, With galleys, foists, and such like ships, well armed at all assays, And that he made his vaunt, the greedy fish to glut, With g●bss of christians carcases, in cruel pieces cut. These news of this report, did pierce my father's ears, But never touched his noble heart, with any spark of fears. For well he known the trade of all the turkish wars, And had among them shed his blood at many cruel jars. In Rhodes his race begun, a slender tall young man, Where he by many martial feats, his spurs of knighthod wan. Yea though the piece was lost, yet wone he honour still, And evermore against the ●urkess he warred by his will. At Chios many know, how hardily he fought, And how with streams of striving blood, his honour dear he bought. At length enforced to yield with many captains mother, He bought his liberty with lands and let his goods ago. Zechynes of glistering gold, two thousand was his price, The which to pay his lands must leap, for else he were unwise. Believe me now my lords although the loss be mine, Yet I confess them better sold, than like a slave to pine. "For lands may come again, but liberty once lost, " Can never find such recompense, as counteruailes the cost. Myself now know the case, who like my father's lot, Was like of late for to have lost my liberty god wots. My father (as I say) enforced to leave his land In mortgage to my mother's kin, for ready coin in hand, 'Gan now upon these new●ss, which erst I did rehearse, Prepare himself to save his pawn or else to lose his pheares. And first his ransom paid, with that which did remain, He rigged up a proper Bark, was called Leffort Britain. And like a venturer (besides him seemly self) Determined for to venture me and all his worldly pelf. Perhaps some hope of gain persuaded so his mind, For sure his haughty heart was bend, some great exploit to find. How so it were, the winds now hoisted up our sails, We furrowing in the foaming floods, to take our best avails. Now hearken to my words, and mark you well the same, For now I will declare the cause wherefore I hither came. My father (as I say) had set up all his rest, And tossed on seas both day and night, disdaining idleness, We left our forelands end, we passed the coast of France, We reached the cape of Finestre our course for to advance. We passed Marrocchus straitss, and at the last descried, The fertile coasts of Cyprus soil, which I myself first spied. Myself (a forward boy) on highest top was placed, And there I saw the Cyprian shore, whereto we sailed in haste. Which when I had declared unto the master's mate, He leapt for joy and thanked God, of that our happy state. "But what remains to man, that can continued long? " What sun can shine so clear and bright but clouds may rise among? Which sentence soon was proved, by our unhappy hap, We thought ourselves full near our friends, & light in enemies' lap. The Turk the tyrant he, with siege had girte the walls, Of famous Famagosta than and sought to make them thralls. And as he lay by land, in strong and stately trench, So was his power priest by sea, his christian foes to drenche. Upon the waltering waves, his foists and galleys fleet, Moore forest like than orderly, for such a man most meet. This heavy sight once seen, we turned our course a pace, And set up all our sails in haste, to give such fury place. But out alas, our wills, and winds were contrary, For raging blasts did blow us still upon our enemy. My father seeing than, whereto he needs must go, And that the mighty hand of God, had it appointed so, Most like a worthy knight (though certain of his death) 'Gan clean forget all wailing words as lavish of his breath. And to his christian crew, this (too short) tale he told, To comfort them which seemed to faint, & make the coward bold, "Fellows in arms, quoth he, although I bear the charge, " And take upon me chieftains name, of this unhappy barge, "Yet are you all my pheares, and as one company, " We must like true companions, together live and die, "You see quoth he our foes, with furious force at hand, " And in whose hands our handful hear unable is to stand. "What rests than to do, should we unto them yield? " And wilfully receive that yoke, which christians cannot wield. "Not sure, hereof be ●ure, our lives were so unsure, " And though we live, yet so to live, as better death endure. "To hear those hellish fends in raging blasphemy, " Defy our only saviour, were this not misery? "To see the fowl abuse of boys in tender years, " The which I know must needs abhor all honest christians ears. "To see maids ravished, wives, wom●n f●rst by flare, " And much more mischief than this time can let me utter here. "Alas, quoth he, I tell not all, my tongue is tied, " But all the slaveries on the earth we should with them abide, "How much were better than to die in worthy wise, " And so to make our carcases, a willing sacrifice? "So shall we pay the debt, which unto God is due, " So shall you die in his defence, who deind to die for you. "And who with hardy hand most turkish tikes can quell, " Let him account in conscience, to please his maker well. "You see quoth he, my son, wherewith he looked on me, " Whom but a babe, yet have I brought, my partner here to be, "For, him I must confess, my heart is pensive now, " To leave him living thus in youth, to die I know not how. "But since it pleaseth God, I may not murmur I, " If God had pleased we both should live, and as god will we die. Thus with a braying sigh, his noble tongue he staid, Commanding all the ordinance, in order to be laid, And placing all his men in order for to fight, Fallen groveling first upon his face, before them all in sight. And when in secret so he whispered had a while, He raised his head with cheerful look, his sorrows to beguile: And with the rest he prayed, to God in heaven on high, Whi●h ended thus, Thou-babes only Lord, canst help in misery. This said, behold, the Turks enclosed us round about, And seemed to wonder that we dared resist so great a ro●●. Whereat they doubt not long, for though our power was slender, We sent them signs by Canon shot, that we meant not to tender. Than might we see them chafe, them might we hear them rage, And all at once they bend their force, about our silly cage. Our ordinance bestowed, our men themselves defend, On every side so thick beset, they might not long contend. But as their captain wild, each man his force did strain, To sand a Turk (some two or three) unto the hellish train. And he himself which saw, he might not more abide, Did thrust amid the thickest throng, and so with honour died. With him there died likewise, his best approved men. The rest did yield as men amazed, they had not courage than. Among the which myself, was ta'en by Turk's alas, And with the Turks a turkish life, in Turkey must pass. I was not done to death for so I often craude, But like a slave before the Gates, of Famagosta saved. That piece once put to sack, I thither was conveyed. And under safeguard evermore, I silly boy was stayed. There did I see such sights as yet my heart do prick, I saw the noble Bragadine, when he was fleyd quick. First like a slave enforced to bear to every breach, Two baskets laden full with earth Mustaffa did him teach. By whom he might not pass before he kiss the ground, These cruel torments (yet with mother) that worthy soldier found. His ears cut from his head, they set him in a chair, And from a main yard hoist him aloft into the air, That so he might be showed with cruelty and spite, Unto us all, whose weeping eyes did much abhor the sight. Alas why do I thus with woeful words rehearse, These weary news which all our hearts with pitttie needs must pierce? Well than to tell you forth, I still a slave remained, To one, which Prelybassa height, who held me still enchained. With him I went to Seas into the gulf of Pant, With many christians captives mother, which did their freedom want. There with the Turkish tyranny we were enforced to stay, For why? they had advise, that the Vene●●●● fleet, Did float in Argostelly than with whom they hoapt to meet. And as they waltered thus with tides and billows tossed, Their hope had hap, for at the last they met them to their cost. As in O●tober last upon the seventh day, They found the force of christian knights addressed in good array. And shall I try my tongue to tell the whole discourse, And how they did encounter first and how they joined in force? Than hearken now my lords, for sure my memory, Doth yet record the very plot of all this victory. The christian crew came on, in form of battle pight, And like a crescent cast themselves preparing for to fight. On other side the Turks, which trusted power to much, Disorderly did spread their force, the will of God was such. Well, at the last they met, and first with cannon's thunder, Each other sought with furious force to slit their ships in sunder. The Barks are battered sore, the galleys galled with shot, The hulks are hit and every man must stand unto his lot. The powder sends his smoke into the cruddy skies, The smoulder stops our nose with stench, the sun offends our eyes, The pots of lime vnsleakt, from highest top are cast, The parched peas are not forgot to make them slip as fast. The wild fire works are wrought and cast in foeman's face, The grappling hooks are stretched forth, the pikes are pushed apace. The halberd's hue on head, the brown bills bruise the bones, The harquebus doth spit his spite, with pretty piercing stones. The drums cry dub a dub, the braying trumpets blow, The whistling fi●eses are seldom herd, these sounds do drown them so. The voice of warlike wights, to comfort them that faint, The piteous plaints of golden hearts, which were with fears attaint. The groaning of such ghosts as gasped now for breath, The prayers of the better sort, prepared unto death, And to be short, each grief which on the earth may grow, Was and easy to be found, upon these floods to flow. If any sight on earth, may unto hell resemble, Than sure this was a hellish sight, it makes me yet to tremble: And in this bloody fight, when half the day was spent, It pleazed God to help his flock, which thus in pound was penned. The general for Spain, 'gan galled that Ga●ley sore, Wherein my Prely Ba●●a was, and grieved it more and more: Upon that other side, with force of sword and flame, The good SATURN'S general did charge upon the same. At length they came aboard, and in his raging pride, St●oke of this Turkish captains head, which blasphemd as it died: O how I feel the blood now tickle in my breast, To think what joy than pierced my heart, and how I thought me blessed To see that cruel Turk which held me as his slave By happy hand of Christians his payment thus to have: His head from shoulders cut, upon a pike did stand, The which Don john of Austrye held in his triumphant hand. The boldest Bassa than, that did in life remain, 'Gan tremble at the sight hereof for privy grief and pain. Thus when these fierce had fought from morning until night, Christ gave his stock the victory, and put his foes to flight: And of the Turkish train were eight score Galeys ta'en, Fifteen soonk, five and twenty burned, & brought unto their bane, Of Christians set at large were fourteen thousand souls, Turk's twenty thousand registered in Beelzebub his rolls. Thus have you now my Lords, the sum of all their fight, And trust it all for true I tell, for I was still in sight: But when the seas were calm, and skies begun to clear, When foes were all or dead or fled, and victors did appear, Than every christian sought among us for his friend, His kinsman or companion some secure them to lend: And as they ransacked so, lo God his will it was, A noble wise Venetian by me did chance to pass. Who gazing on my face, did seem to like me well And what my name, and whence I was, commanded me to tell: I now which waxed bold, as one that scaped had, From deepest hell to highest heaven, begun for to be glad. And with a ●yvely sprite, begun to plead my case, And hide not from this worthy man, mine ancient worthy race: And told my father's name, and how I did descend From Mountacutes by mother's side, nor there my tale did end: But furthermore I told my father's late exploit, And how he left lands, goods and life, to pay son Dieu son dro●t. Nor of myself I craved so credited to be, For ●o there were remaining yet, The four torchbearers, that came in with the actor These four whom here you see, Which all were English born, and known I had not lied, And were my father's soldiers eke, and see him how he died. This grave Venetian who heard the famous name Of Mountacutes rehearsed there, which long had been of fame In Italy, and h● of self same worthy race, 'Gan straight with many courteous words in arms me to embrace, And kissed me on cheek, and bade me make good cheer, And thank the mighty God for that which happened there, Confessing that he was himself a Montacute, And bore the self same arms that I did quarter in my scute: And for a further proof, he showed in his hat, This token which the Mountacutes do bear always, The actor had a token in his cap like to the Mount●cutes of Italy. for that They covet to be known from Capulets where they pass, For ancient grudge which long age twéen those two houses was. Than took me by the hand, and led me so aboard His galley: where there were yféere, full many a comely Lord: Of whom eight Montacutes did sit in highest place, To whom this first declared first my name, and than my race: Lo lordings here (quoth he) a babe of our own bloods, Whom Turk● had ta'en, his father slain with loss of lands and goods: See how God favours us, that I should find him now, I strange to him, he strange to me, we m●t I know not how: But sure when I him saw, and gazed in his face, Me thought he was a Montacute, I choose him by his grace: Herewith he did rehearse my father's valiant deed, For loss of whom each Montacute, did seem in heart to bleed. They all embraced me than, and straight as you may see, In comely garments trimde me up, as brave as brave may be: I was in sackcloth I, now an I clad in gold, And wear such robes as I myself take pleasure to behold. Among their other gifts, The token that he did wear in his cap. this Token they me gave, And bade me like a Montacute myself always behave. Now hearken than my Lords, I staying on the seas, In consort of these lovely Lords, with comfort and with ease, Determined with them in Italy to devil, And there by train of youthful years in knowledge to excel: That so I might at last reedifye the walls, Which my good father had decayed by tossing fortunes balls: And while they slice the seas to their desired shore, Behold a little gale begun, increasing more and more: At last with raging blast, which from Southeast did blow, 'Gan sand our sails upon these shores, which I full well did know: I spied the Chalky Clyues upon the Kentishe coast, Whereby our land height Albyon, as Brutus on●e did boast, Which I not sooner saw, but to the rest I said, Sia●e di buona voglia, My lords be well apaid: I see by certain signs these tempests have us cast, Upon my native country coasts with happy hap at last: And if your honours please this honour me to do, In English havens to harbour you, & see our Cities too: Lo London is not far, where as my friends would be Right glad, with favour to requited you favour showed to me: Vouchsafe my Lords (quoth I) to stay upon this strande, And while your Barks be rigged new, remain with me on land, Who though I be a boy, my father dead and slain, Yet shall you see I have some friends which will you entertain. These noble men, which are the flower of courtesy, Did not disdain this my request, but took it thankfully, And from their battered Barks commanded to be cast Some Gondalaes, wherein upon our pleasant streams they passed Into the mouth of Thames, thus did I them transport, And to London at the last, where as I heard report, E●en as we landed first, of this twice happy day, To think whereon I leapt for joy, as I both must and may: And to these lovely lords, which are Magnificoes, I did declare the whole discourse in order as it risen: That you my Lord who are our chiefest Montacute, And he whom English Mountacutes their only stay impute, Had ●ounde the means this day to match your son and heir, In marriage with a worthy dame which is both fresh and fair, And (as reports are spread) of goodly qualities, A virgin trained from her youth in godly exercise, Whose brother had likewise your daughter ta'en to wife, And so by double lynkes enchained themselves in lovers life: These noble Mountacutes which were from Venice droven, By tempest (as I told before) wherewith they long had striven 'Gan now give thanks to God which so did them convey, To see such honours of their kin in such a happy day: And strait they me entreat, whom they might well command, That I should come to my Lord first them to recommaunde, And than this boon to crave, that under your protection They might be bold to enter here, devoid of all suspection, And so in friendly wise for to concelebrate, This happy match solemnized, according to your state. Lo this is all they crave, the which I can not doubt, But that your Lordship soon will grant, with more, if more you might: Yea were it for not more, but for the Courtesy, Which (as I say) they showed to me in great extremity: They are Venetians, and though from Venice reft, They come in such Venetian robes as they on seas had left: And since they be your friends, and kinsmen too by blood, I trust your entertainment will be to them right good: They will not tarry long, lo now I hear thei● drum, Behold, lo now I see them here in order how they come, receive them well my lord, so shall I pray always, That God vouchsafe to bless this house with many happy days. After the mask was done, the Actor took master. Tho. Bro. by the hand and brought him to the Venetians, with these words: GVardate Signori, my lovely Lords behold, This is another Montacute, hereof you may be bold. Of such our patron here, The viscount Montacute, Hath many comely sequences, well sorted all in suit. But as I spied him first I could not let him pass, I took the card that liked me best, in order as it was. And here to you my lords, I do present the same, Make much of him, I pray you than, for he is of your name, For whom I dare advance, he may your tronchman be, Your herald and ambassador, let him play all for me. Than the Venetians embraced and received the same master Tho. Browne, and after they had a while whispered with him, he turned to the Bridegrooms and Brides, saying thus. BRother, these noble men to you now have me sent, As for their tronchman to expound theffect of their intent. They bid me tell you than, they like your worthy choice, And that they cannot choose therein but triumph and rejoice. As far as guess may give, they seem to praise it well, They say between your lady's eyes doth Gentilezza devil. I term it as they do, their english is but weak, And I (God knows) an all to young beyond sea speech to speak. And you my sister eke they seem for to commend, With such good words as may be seem a cousin and a friend. They like your choose fere, so pray they for your sake, That he may always be to you, a faithful loving make. This in effect is all, but that they crave a boon, That you will give them licence yet, to come and see you soon. Than will they speak themselves, such english as they can, I fear much better than I speak, that an an english man. Lo now they take their leaves of you and of your dames, Hereafter shall you see their face and know them by their names. Than when they had taken their leaves the Actor did make an end thus. And I your Seruidore, vibascio le many. These words I learned among them yet, although I learnte not many. Ha●d ictus sapio. Gascoignes wodmanship written to the L. Grey of wilton upon this occasion, the said ●. Grey delighting (among many other good qualities) in choosing of his winter dear, and kill the same with his bow, did furnish master Gascoigne with a crossebowe cum Pertinenci●s, and vouchsafed to use his company in the said excercise, calling him one of his wodmen. N●w master Gasco●gne shooting very often, could never hi●●e any dear, yea and often times he let the herded pass by as though he had not seen them. Whereat when this noble Lord took some pastime, and had often put him in remembrance of his good skill in choosing, and readiness in kill of a winter dear, he thought good thus to excuse it in verse. MY worthy Lord, I pray you wonder not, To see your wodman shoot so oft awry, Nor that he stands amazed like a sot, And let's the harmless dear (unhurt) go by. Or if he strike a do which is but carrion, Laugh not good Lord, but favour such a fault, Take well I worth, he would feign hit the barren, But though his heart be good, his hap is nought: And therefore now I crave your Lordship's leave, To tell you plain what is the cause of this: First if it please your honour to perceive, What makes your wodman shoot so oft amiss, Believe me L. the case is nothing strange, He shoots awry almost at every mark●, His eyes have been ●o used for to range, That now God knows they be both dim and dark. For proof he bears ●he note of folly now, Who shot sometimes to hit Philosophy, And ask you why? for sooth I make avow, Because his wanton wits went all awry. Next that, he shot to be a man of law, And spent some time with learned Litleton, Yet in the end, he proved but a daw, For law was dark and he had quickly done. Than could he wish Fitzharbert such a brain, As Tully had, to writ the law by art, So that with pleasure, or with little pain, He might perhaps, have caught a truants part. But all to late, he most misliked the thing, Which most might help to guide his arrow straight, He winked wrong, and so let slip the string, Which cast him wide, for all his quaint conceit. From thence ●e shot to catch a courtly grace, And thought even there to wield the world at will, But out alas he much mistook the place, And shot awry at every rover still. The blazing baits which draw the gazing eye, Unfethered there his first affection, Not wonder than although he shot awry, Wanting the feathers of discretion. Yet more than them, the marks of dignity, He much mistook and shot the wronger way, Thinking the purse of prodigality, Had been best mean to purchase such a pray, He thought the flattering face which fleareth still, Had been full fraught with all fidelity, And that such words as courtier's use at will. Can not have varied from the verity. But when his bonnet buttered with gold, His comely cape begarded all with gay, His bombast hose, with linings manifold, His knit silk stocks and all his quaint array, Had picked his pu●se of all the Peter pennies, Which might have paid for his promotion, Than (all to late) he found that light expense, Had quite quenched out the court's devotion. So that since than the taste of misery, Hath been always full bitter in his bit, And why? forsooth because he shot awry, Mistaking still the marks which others hit. But now behold what mark the man doth found, He shoots to be a soldier in his age, Mistrusting all the virtues of the mind, He trusts the power of his parsonage. As though long limbs led by a lusty heart, M●ght yet suffice to make him rich again, But flussing frays have taught him such a part, That now he thinks the wars yield not such gain. And sure I fear, unless your lordship deign, To train him yet into some better trade, It will be long before he hit the vein, Whereby he may a richer man be made. He cannot climb as other catchers can, To lead a charge before himself be led, He cannot spoil the simple sakeles man, Which is content to feed him with his bread. He cannot pinch the painful soldiers pay, And shear him out his share in ragged sheeets, He cannot stop to take a greedy pray Upon his fellows groveling in the streets. He cannot pull the spoil from such as pill, And seem full angry at such foul offence, Although the gain content his greedy will, Under the cloak of contrary pretence: And nowadays, the man that shoots not so, May shoot amiss, even as your Woodman doth: But then you marvel why I let them go, And never shoot, but say farewell forsooth: Alas my Lord, while I do muse hereon, And call to mind my youthful years myspente, They give me such a bone to gnaw upon, That all my senses are in silence penned. My mind is rapt in contemplation, Wherein my dazzled eyes only behold, The black hour of my constellation, Which framed me so luckless on the mould: Yet therewithal I can not but confess, That vain presumption makes my heart to swell, For thus I think, not all the world (I guess,) Shoots bet than I, nay some shoots not so well. In Aristotle somewhat did I learn, To guide my manners all by comeliness, And Tully taught me somewhat to discern Between sweet speech and barbarous rudeness. Old Parkyns, Rastall, and Dan Bractens books, Did lend me somewhat of the lawless Law, The crafty Courtiers with their guylefull looks, Must needs put some experience in my maw: Yet can not these with many maystries mother, Make me shoot straight at any gaynfull prick, Where some that never handled such a bow, Can hit the white, or touch it near the quick, Who can nor speak, nor writ in pleasant wise, Nor lead their life by Aristotle's rule, Nor argue well on questions that arise, Nor plead a case more than my Lord majors mule, Yet can they hit the marks that I do miss, And win the mean which may the man maintain, Now when my mind doth mumble upon this, Not wonder than although I pine for pain: And whiles mine eyes behold this mirroure thus, The heard goes by, and farewell gentle does: So that your lordship quickly may discuss What blyndes mine eyes so oft (as I suppose.) But since my Muse can to my Lord rehearse What makes me musse, and why I do not shoot, Let me imagine in this worthless verse: If right before me, at my stand foot There stood a do, and I should strike her dead, And than she prove a carrion carcase too, What figure might I find within my head, To 'scuse the rage which ruled me so to do? Some might interpret by plain paraphrase, That lack of skill or fortune led the chance, But I must otherwise expound the ca●e, I say jehova did this do advance, And made her bold is stand before me so, Till I had thrust mine arrow to her heart, That by the sudden of her overthrow, I might endeavour to amend my part, And turn mine eyes that they not more behold, Such guylefull marks as seem more than they be: And though they glister outwardly like gold, Are inwardly but brass, as men may see: And when I see the milk hung in her teat, Me th●nkes it saith, old babe now learn to such, Who in thy youth couldst never learn the feat To hit the whytes which live with all good luck. Thus have I told my Lord, (God grant in season) A tedious tale in rhyme, but little reason. Haud ictus sapio. Gascoignes gardnings, whereof were written in one end of a close walk which he hath in his Garden, this discourse following. THe figure of this world I can compare, To Garden plots, and such like pleasant places, The world breeds men of sundry shape and share, As herbs in gardens, grow of sundry graces: Some good, some bad, some amiable faces, Some foul, some gentle, some of ●roward mind, Subject like bloom, to blast of every wound. And as you see the flowers fresh of hue, That they prove not always the holsomest, So fairest men are not always found true: But even as withered weeds fall from the rest, So flatterers fall naked from their nest: When truth hath tried, their painting tising tale, They lose their gloss, and all their jests seem stolen. Yet some do present pleasure most esteem, Till beams of bravery whither all their wealth, And some again there be can rightly deem, Those herbs for best, which may maintain their health. Considering well, that age draws on by stealth, And when the fairest flower is shrunk and go, A well grown root, will stand and shift for one. Than thus the restless life which men here lead, May be resembled to the tender plant, In spring it sprouts, as babes in cradle breed, Flourish in May, like youths that wisdom want, In Autumn ripes and roots, lest store beware scant In winter shrinks and shrouds from every blast, Like crooked age when lusty youth is past. And as the ground or grass whereon it grew, Was fat or lean, even so by it appears, If barreyn soil, why than it changeth hew, It fades fast, it flits to fumbling years, But if he gathered root among his fears, And light on land that was well muckte in deed, Than stands it still, or leaves increase of seed. As for the rest, fall sundry ways (God wot) Some faint like froathe at every little puff, Some smart by sword, like herbs that serve the po●, And some be wéeded from the fyner stuff, Some stand by props to maintain all their ruff: And thus under correction (be it told) Hath Gascoigne gathered in his Garden mould. Ha●d ictus sapio. In that other end of his said close walk, were written these toys in rhyme. IF any flower that there is grown, Or any herb may ease your pain, Take and account it as your own, But recompense the like again: For some and some is honest play, And so my wife taught me to say. If here to walk you take delight, Why come, and welcome when you will: If I bid you sup here this night, Bid me an other time, and still Think some and some is honest play, For so my wife taught me to say. Thus if you sup or dine with me, If you walk here, or sit at ease, If you desire the thing you see, And have the same your mind to please, Think some, and some is honest play, And so my wife taught me to say. Haud ictus sapio. In a chair in the same Garden was written this following. IF thou sit here to view this pleasant garden place, Think thus: at last will come a frost, & all these flowers deface. But if thou sit at ease to rest thy weary bones, Remember death brings final rest to all our grievous grone●. So whether for delight, or here thou sit for ease, Think still upon the latter day, so shalt thou God best please. Haud ictus sapio. Upon a stone in the brickwall of his Garden he had written the year wherein he did the cost of these devises, and therewithal this poesy in Latin. Quoniam etiam humiliatos, amoena delectant. Gascoignes voyage into Holland, An. 1572. written to the right honourable the Lord Grey of Wilton. A Strange conceit, a vain of new delight, Twixte weal and woe, twixte joy and bitter grief, Hath pricked forth my hasty pen to writ This worthless vers● in hazard of repréefe: And to mine Alderlieucst Lord I must indite A woeful case, a chip of sorry chance, A type of heaven, a lively hue of hell, A fear to fall, a hope of high advance, A life, a death, a dreary tale to tell. But since I know the pith of my pastaunce Shall most consist in telling of a truth, Vouchsafe my Lord (en bo●gré) for to take This trusty tale the story of my youth, This Chronicle which of myself I make, To show my Lord what healplesse hap ensueth, When heady youth will gad without a guide, And range untied in leas of liberty, Or when bore need a starting hole hath spied To peep abroad from mother Misery, And buildeth Castles in the Welkin wide, In hope thereby to devil with wealth and ease. But he the Lord (whom my good Lord doth know) Can bind or loose, as best to him shall please, Can save or spill, raise up or overthrow, Can galled with grief, and yet the pain appease. Which thing to prove if so my L. take time, (When greater cares his head shall not possess) To sit and read this ranging ragged rhyme, I doubt not than but that he will confess, What falls I found when last I leapt to climb. In March it was, that cannot I forget, In this last March upon the nintenth day, When from Gravesend in b●ate I 'gan to jest To board our ship in Quinborough that lay, From whence the very twentieth day we set Our sails abroad to slice the Salt sea ●ome, And anchors weyde 'gan trust the trustless flood: That day and night amid the waves we ●om● To seek the coast of Holland where it stood. And on the next when we were far from home, And near the haven whereto me sought to sail, A ●erly chance: (whereon alone to think) My hand now quakes, and all my senses fail) 'Gan us befall: the Pilot 'gan to shrink, And all aghast his courage seemed to quail. Whereat amazed, the Master and his mate 'Gan ask the cause of his so sudden change. And from aloft the Steward of our state, (The sounding plumb) in haste post haste must raung●, To try the depth and goodness of our gate. Me thinks (even yet) I hear his heavy voice, fathom three, four, foot more, ●oote less, that cried: Me thinks I hear the fearful whispering noise, Of such as said full softly (i beside) God grant this journey 'cause us to rejoice. When I poor soul, which close in cabin say, And there had reached till gaul was well-near burst, With giddy head, my ●●umbling steps must stay To look abroad as boldly as I durst. And whiles I hearken what the Sailors say, The so●der sings, fathom two full not more. Aloof, aloof, than cried the master out, The Stearesmate strives to send us from the shore, And trusts the stream, whereof we erst had doubt. Tw●ene two extremes thus were we tossed sore, And wen●● to Hull: until we leyzure had To talk at large, and eke to know the cause What mood had made our Pilot look so sad. At las●e the Dutche with butterbitten jaws, (For so he was a Dutche, a devil, a swadde, A ●oole, a drunkard, or a traitor tone) 'Gan answer thus: Ghy●zyt te uro●gh here come, 'tis met goet 〈◊〉: and standing all alone, 'Gan preach to us, which fools were all and some To trust him fool, in whom there skill was none. Or what knew we if Albaes' subtle brain (So to prevent our enterprise by treazon) Had him subornde to 'tice us to this train And so himself (per Company and seazon) For spite, for hate, or else for hope of gain. This must we think that Alba would not spare To give out gold for such a sinful deed: And glistering gold can oftentimes ensnare, Moore perfect wits than Holland soil doth breed. But let that pass, and let us now compare Our own fond fact with this his foul offence. We known him not, nor where he word that time, Nor if he had Pilots experience, Or Pylats' craft, to clear himself from crime. Yea moreth an that (how void were we of sense) We had small smack of any tale he told, He powered out Duchess to drowae us all in drink, And we (wise men) upon his words were bold, To r●nne on head, but let me now bethink The master's speech: and let me so unfold The dept● of all this foolish overlight. The ma●ter spoke even like a skilful man, And said I sail that Seas both day and night, I know the tides as well as other can, From pole to pole I can the courses plight. I know France, Spain, Gréece, Denmark, Dausk and all, Freeze, Flaunders, Holland, every coast I know, But truth to tell, it seldom doth befall, That English merchants ever bend their bow To shoot at Breyll, where now our flight should fall, They sand their shafts farther for greater gain. So that this haven is yet (quoth he) vnkouth, And God grant now that England may attain Such gains by Breyll, (a gospel on that mouth) As is desired: thus spoke the master plain. And since (said he) myself known not the sown, How could I well a better Pilot find, Than this (which first) did say he dwelled in town, And knew the way where ever sat the wind? While we thus talk, all sails are taken down, And we to 〈◊〉 (as erst I said) 'gan wend, till full two hours and somewhat more were passed, Our guide then spoke in Dutch and bade us bend All sails again: for now quoth he (at last) D●e 〈◊〉 is goet, dat heb ick we'll bekend. Why stay I long to end a woeful tale? We trust his Duchess, and up the foresail goes, We fall on knees amid the happy gale, (Which by gods will full kind and calmly blows) And unto him we there unfold our ●ale, Whereon to think I write and weep for joy, That pleasant song the hundredth and seventh psalm, There did we read to comfort over annoy, Which to my soul (me thought) was sweet as balm, Yea far more sweet than any worldly toy. And when we had with prayers praised the Lord, Our Edell Bloetts, 'gan fall to eat and drink, And for their sauce, at taking up the board The ship so strake (as all we thought to sink) Against the ground, than all with one accord We 〈◊〉 again on knees to pray apace, And there withal even at the second blow, (The number cannot from my mind outpace) Our helm strake of, and we must fleet and flow. Where wind and waves would guide us by their grace. The wind waxed calm as I have said before, (OH mighty God so didst thou suage our woes) The selly ship was soused and smitten sore, With counter buffets, blows and double blows. At last the keel which might endure not more, 'Gan rend in twain and sucked the water in: Than might you see pale looks and woeful cheer, Th●n might you hear lo●de cries and deadly din: Well noble minds in perils best appear, And boldest har●ss in base will never blinne. For there were some (of whom I will not say That I was one) which never changed hue, But pumped apace, and laboured every way To save themselves, and all their lovely erew, Which cast the best freight overboorde away, Both corn and clot, and all that was of weight, Which halde and pulled at every helping cord, Which prayed to God and made their conscience straight. As for myself: I here protest my Lord, My words were these: OH God in heaven on height, Behold me not as now a wicked wight, A sack of sin, a wretch ywrapt in wroth, Let SATURN'S fault past (OH Lord) offend thy sight, But weigh my will which now those faults doth loath, And of thy mercy pity this our plight. Even thou good God which of thy grace didst say That for one good, thou wouldst all Sodom save, Behold us all: thy shining beams display, Some here (I trust) thy goodness shall engrave, To be chaste vessels unto thee alway, And so to live in honour of thy name: Believe me Lord, thus to the Lord I said. But there were some (alas the more their blame) W●●ch in the pump their only comfort laid, And trusted that to turn our grief to game. Alas (quoth I) our pump good God must be Our sail, our stern, our tackling, and our trust. Some other cried to clear the shipboate free, To save the chief and leave the rest in dust. Which word once spoken (a wondrous thing to see) All hast post haste, was made to have it done: And up it comes in haste much more than speed. There did I see a woeful work begun, Which now (even now) doth make my heart to bleed. Some made such haste that in the boat they won, Before it was above the hatches brought. Strange tale to tell, what hast some men shall make To found their death before the same be sought. Some twixt the boat and ship their bane do take, Both drowned and slain with brains for haste crushed out. At last the boat half freighted in the air Is hoist aloft, and on the seas down set, When I that yet in God could not despair, Still plioe the pump, and patiently did let All such take boat as thither made repair. And herewithal I safely may protest I might have won the boat as well as one, And had that seemed a safety for the rest I should percase even with the first have go, But when I see the b●ate was over priest And pestered full with more than it might bear, And therewithal with cheerful look might see My chief companions whom I held most dear (Whose company had thither trained me) Abiding still aboard our ship yfeare: Nay than (quoth I) good God thy will be done, For with my fears I will both live and dye. And ear the boat far from our sight was gone The wave so wrought, that they which thought to flee And so to scape, with waves were ouerronne. Lo how he strives in vain that strives with God, For there we lost the flower of the band, And of our crew full twenty souls and odd, The Sea sucks up, while we on hatches stand In smarting fear to feel that self same rod. Well on (as yet) our battered bark did pass, And brought the rest within a mile of land, Than thought I sure now need not I to pass, For I can swim and so escape this sand. Thus did I deem all careless like an Ass, When suddenly the wind our foresail took, And turned about and brought us eft to Seas. Than cried we all cast out the anchor hook, And here let bide, such help as god may please: Which anchor cast, we soon the same forsook, And cut it of, for fear lest thereupon Our ship should bowge, than called we fast for fire, And so discharged our great guns everichone, To warn the town thereby of our desire: But all in vain, for succour sent they none. At last a Hoy from Sea came flinging fast, And towards us held course as straight as line. Than might you see our hands to heaven up cast To tender thanks unto the power divine, That so vouchsafed to save us yet at last: But when this Hoy 'gan (well near) board our bark, And might perceive what peril we were in, It turned away and left us still in cark, This tale is true (for now to lie were sin) It left us there in dread and dangers dark. It left us so, and that within the sight And hearing both of all the pear at Bryll. Now ply thee pen, and paint the foul despite Of drunken Dutchmen standing there even still, For whom we came in their cause for to fight, For whom we came their state for to defend, For whom we came as friends to grieve their ●oess, They now disdaynd (in this distress) to lend One helping boat for to assuage our woes, They saw our harms the which they would not mend, And had not been that God even then did raise Some instruments to succour us at need, We had been sunk and swallowed all in Seas. But gods will was (in way of our good speed) That on the pear (lamenting our mysea●e) Some english were, whose naked sword did force The drunken dutch, the cankered churls to come, And so a● last (not moved by remorse, But forced be fear) they sent us succour some: Some must I say: and for to tell the course, They sent us succour saust with sour despite, They saved our lives and spoiled us of the rest, They stolen our goods by day and ●ke by night, They showed the worst and closely kept the best. And in this time (this treason must I write) Our ●ylo● fled, but how? not empty handed: He fled from us, and with him did convey A Hoy full fraught (while we mean while were landed) With powder, shot, and all our best array: This skill he had, for all he set us sanded. And now my Lord, declare your noble mind, Was this a Pylo●, or a Pilat● judge? Or rather was he not of judas kind: Which left us thus and close away c●uld trudge? Well, at the Bryell to tell you what we find, The Governor was all bedewed with drink, His trulls and he were all laid down to sleep, And we must shifted, and of ourselves must think What mean was best, and how we best might keep That yet remained: the rest was close in clynke. Well, on our knees with trickling tears of joy. We gave God thanks: and as we might, did learn What might by found in every pynke and hoy. And thus my Lord, your honour may discern Our perils past, and how in ●ur aroye God saved me your Lordships bond for ever, Who else should not be able now to tell, The state wherein this country doth persever, N● h●w they seem in careless minds to devil, (So did they erst and so they will do ever) And to my Lord for to bewray my mind Me thinks they be a race of Bulbéefe born, Whose hearts their Butter mollyfyeth by kind, And so the force of bée●e is clean outworn: As ●ke their brains with double beer are lined: So that they march bombast with butterd bear, Like sops of Browesse puffed up with froth, Where inwardly they be but hollow gear, As weak as wind, which with one puffed up goes. And yet they brigge and think they have not pear, Because Harlem hath hitherto held out, Athough in deed (as they have suffered Spain) The end thereof even now doth rest in doubt. Well as for that, let it (for me) remain In God his hands, whose hand hath brought me out, To tell my Lord this tale now ta'en in hand, As how they train their treasons all in drink, And when themselves for drunk can scarcely stand, Yet suck out secrets (as themselves do think) From guests, the best (almost) in all their land, (I name not man, for that were broad before) Will (as men say) enure the same sometime, But surely this (or I mistake him sore) Or else he can (but let it pass in rhyme) Dissemble deep, and mock sometimes the more. Well, drunkenness is here good company, And therewithal per consequence it falls, That whoredom is accounted Iollytie: A gentle state, where two such Tenisballes Are tossed still and better bowls let lie. I cannot herewith from my Lord conceal, How God and Mammon here do devil yfeare, And how the Mas●e is cloaked under veal Of policy, till all the coast be clear: Ne can I choose, but I must ring a peal, To tell what hypo●ryteses the Nuns here be: And how the old Nuns be content to go, Before a man in streets like mother B, until they come whereas there dwells a Ho, (Re: ceive that half and let the rest go free) There can they point with finger as they pass, Yea sir sometimes they can come in themself, To strike the bargain tw●ne a wanton lass, And 〈…〉 now is not this good pelf? As for the young Nuns, they be bright as glass, And chaste forsooth: 〈◊〉 and a●derss 〈◊〉 What said I? what? that is a mystery, I may not verse of such a theme indite, Young Roland York may tell it better than I, Yet to my Lord this little will I writ, That though I have (my self) not skill at all, To take the countenance of a Colonel, Had I a good Lieutenant general, As good john Zuche whereuer that he devil, Or else Ned Dennye, (fair might him befall,) I could have brought a noble regiment, Of smoogskind Nuns into my country soil, But farewell they as things impertinent, Let them (for me) go devil with master moil Who hath behight to place them well in kent. And I shall well my silly self content, To come alon● unto my lovely Lord, And unto him (when 〈◊〉 sport is spent) To tell some sad and reasonable word, Of Holland●'s state, the which I will present, In Cartes, in Maps, and eke in Models made, If God of heaven my purpose not prevent. And in mean while although my wits do wade In ranging rhyme, and fling some folly forth, I trust my Lord will take it yet in worth. Haud lctus sapio. And now to recomfort you and to end this work, receive the delectable history of sundry adventures passed by Dan Bartholomew of Bath, read it and judge of it. The Reporter. TO tell a tale without authority, Or fain a Fable by invention, That one proceeds of quick capacity, That other proves but small discretion, Yet have both one and other often been done. And if I were a Poet as some be, You might perhaps hear some such tale of me. But for I find my feeble skill to faint, To fa●e in figures as the learned can, And yet my tongue is tied by due constraint, To tell nothing but truth of every man: I will assay even as I first begun, To tell you now a tale and that of truth, Which I myself saw proved in my youth. I need not seek so far in coasts abroad, As some men do, which write strange histories, For whiles at home I made my child abode And saw our lovers play their Tragedies, I found enough which seemed to suffice, To set on work far siner wits than mine, In painting out the pangs which make them pi●e. Among the rest I most remember one Which was to me a dear familiar friend, Whose doting days since they be passed and go, And his annoy now com● unto an end, Although he seem his angry brow to bend, I will be bold (by his leave) for to tell, The restless state wherein he long did devil. Learned he was, and that become him best, For though by birth he came of worthy race, Yet beauty, birth, brave parsonage, and the rest, In every choice, must needs give learning place: And as for him he had so hard a grace, That by aspect he seemed a simple man, And yet by learning much renown he won. His name I hid, and yet for this discourse, Let call his name Dan Ba●tholmew of Bath, Since in the end he thither had recourse, ●nd (as he said) did skamble there inskath: In deed the rage which wrong him there, was rathe, As by this tale I think yourself will guess, And than (with me) his loathsome life confess. For though he had in all his learned lore Both red good rules to bridle fantasy, And all good authors taught him evermore, To love the mean, and leave extremity, Yet kind had lent him such a quality, That at the last he quite forgot his books, And fastened fancy with the fairest looks. For proof, when green youth leapt out of his eye And left hi● now a man of middle age, His hap was yet wish wandr●ng looks to spy A fair young 〈◊〉 of proper parsonage, Eke born (as he) of honest parentage: SATURN'S truth to tell, my skill it cannot serve, To praise her beauty as it did deserve. First for her head, the hears were not of gold, But of some other metal fairy more fine, Whereof ●ach ●●inet seemed to behold, Like glistering wires against the sun that shine, And therewithal the blazing of her eyes, Was like the beams of titan, truth to tell, Which glads us all that in this world do devil. Upon her cheeks the lily and the rose Did entreméete, with equal change of hue, And in her gifts not lack I can suppose, But that at last (alas) she was untrue. Which flinging fault, because it is not new, Nor seldom seen in kits of Cressid kind, I marvel n●t, nor bear it much in mind. Dame Nature's fruits, where with her face was fraught, Were so frost bitten with the cold of craft, That all (save such as Cupid's snares had caught) Might soon espy the feathers of his shaft: But Bartholomew his wits had so beda●t, That all seemed good which might of her be got, Although it proved not sooner ripe than rotten. That mouth of hers which seemed to flow with mell, In speech, in voice, in tender touch, in taste, That dympled chin wherein delight did devil, That ruddy lip wherein was pleasure placed, Those well shaped hands, fine arms and slender waste, With all the gifts which gave her any grace, Were smiling baits which caught fond fools apace. Why strive I than to paint her name with praise? Since form and fruits were found so far unlike, Since of her cage Inconstance kept the keys And Change had cast her honour down in dike: Since fickle kind in her the stroke did strike, I may not praise unto a knife bequeath, With rust fret, though painted be the sheath. But since I must a name to her assign, Let call her now Ferenda Natura, And if thereat she seem for to repined, Not force at all, for hereof an I sure a, That since her pranks were for the most unpure a, I can appoint her well not better name, Than this, wherein dame Nature bears the blame. And thus I say, when Bartholomew had spent His pride of youth (untied in links of love) Behold how hap contrary to intent, (Or destinies ordained from above) From which not wight on earth may well remove) Presented to his view this fiery dame, To kindle coals where erst had been not flame. Whom when he saw to shine in seemly grace, And there withal 'gan mark her tender youth, He thought not like, that under such a face She could convey the treason of untruth: Whereby he vowed, (alas the more his ruth) To serve this Saint for term of all his life, Lo here both root and rind of all his strife. I cannot now in loving terms display His suit, his service, nor his sorry fare: His observances, nor his quaint array, His scalding sighs, nor yet his cooling care, His waiting still to snatch himself in snare, I can not writ what was his sweetest sour, For I myself was never paramour. But to conclude, much worth in little writ, The highest flying hawk will s●oupe at last, The wyldest beast is drawn with hungry bit, To ●ate a homely bait sometimes in haste, The prick of kind can never be vnplaste, And so it seemed by this dainty dame, Whom he at last with labour did reclaim. And when he had with mickell pain procured The calm consent of her unwieldy will, When he had her by faith and troth assured To like him best, and aye to love him still, When fancy had of flattery fed his fill, I not discern to tell my tale aright, What man but he had ever such delight? The lingering days he spent in trifling toys, To whet the tools which carved his content, The posting nights he passed in pleasing joys, Wearing the web which love to him had lente: I● such a pinfolde were his pleasures penned That ●elde he could her company eschew, Or leave such looks as might his lack renew. But if by force he forced were to part, Than might you see how fancy fed his mind, Than all alone he mused on his mart. All company seemed than (but hers) unkind: Than sent he tokens true love for to bind, Than written he letters, lines and loving lays, So to beguile his absent doleful days. And since I know as others eke can tell, What skill he had, and how he could indite, Me thinks I cannot better do than well To set down here, his ditties of delight, For so at lest I may myself acquit, And vaunt to show some verses yet unknown, Well worthy praise though none of them mine own. Not force for that, take you them as they be, Since mine emprise is but to make report: Imagine than before you that you see A wight be witched in many a subtle sort, A lover lodged in pleasures princely port, Uaunting in verse what joys he did possess, His triumpes here I think will show not less. Dan Bartholomew his Triumphs. Resign king Priam's sons, that princes were in Tr●y. Resign to me your happy days, and boast not more of joy: Sir Paris first stand forth, make answer for thy fere, And if thou canst defend her cause, whom Troy did buy so dear: What? blush not man, be bold, although thou bear some blame, Tell truth at last, and so be sure to save thyself from shame. Than gentle Shepherd sat: what madness did thee move To choose of all the flowers in Greece, foul Helen for thy love? Needs must I count her foul, whose first fruits were forlorn Although she sold her second chaff, above the price of corn. Alas, she made of thee, a noddy for the nonce, For Menelaus lost her twice, though thou her foundst but once. But yet if in thy eye, she seemed a peerless piece, Ask Theleu● the mighty Duke, what towns she known in Greece? Ask him what made her leave her woeful aged sire, And steal to Athens gyglot like: what? what but foul desire? Alas poor Paris thou didst nothing else but glean The parched ears which he cast by, when he had reaped clean: He sliude the gentle Slip, which could both twist and twinned, And growing left the broken branch, for them that came behind. Yet hast thou filled the world with brute, the more thy blame, And sayst, that Helen's beauty passed each other stately dame. For proof thou canst allege the taste of ten years war, And how her blazing beams first brought both Greece & Tr●y to jar: Not not, thou art deceived, the drugs of foul despite Did work in Menelaus will, not loss of such delight, Not love but loathsome hate, not dolour but disdain, Did make him seek a sharp revenge, till both is foes were slain. Thy brother Troilus eke, that gem of gentle deeds, To think how he abused was, alas my heart it bleeds: He bet about the bush, while other caught the birds, Whom crafty Cressid mocked to much, yet fed him still with words. And God he knoweth not I, who plucked her first sprung rose, Since Lollius and Chauser both, make doubt upon that gloze. But this I know too well, and he to far it felt, How Diomedes undid his knots, and caught both brooch and belt, And how she choose to change, and how she changed still, And how she died leper like, against her lovers will. Content you than good knights, your triumph to resign, Confess your stars both dim and dark, whereas my sun doth shine: For this I dare avow, without vaunt be it told, My derling is more fair than she, for whom proud Troy was sold. Moore constant to contain, than Cressid to be coy, Not Calcas can contrive the craft, to train her out of Troy, Not Diomedes can draw her settled heart to change, Not madding mood can move her mind, nor make her thoughts to range, For her alone it is, that Cupid blindfold goes, And dare not look for fear lest he his liberty should lose: At her dame Venus chafes, and pines in ielowsie, Lest bloody Mars should her espy, and change his fantasy. Of her the Queen of Heaven doth stand in dreadful doubt, Lest ●ove should melt in drops of gold, if once he found her out. O that my tongue had skill, to tell her praise aright, Or that my pen her due deserts, in worthy verse could writ: Or that my mind could muse, or happy heart conceive, Some wor●ss that might resound her worth, by high Minerva's leave. O how the blooming joys, do blossom in my breast, To think within my secret thought, how far she stains the rest. Me thinks I hear her speak, me thinks I see her still, Me thinks I feel her féelingly, me thinks I know her will. Methinks thinks I see the states, which sue to her for grace, Me thinks I see one look of hers repulse them all apace. Me thinks that hour is yet, and evermore shall be, Whereine my happy hap was first, her heavenly face to see: Wherein I spied the writ, which wound between her eyes, And said behold, be bold, for I, an born to be but thy. Me thinks I feel the joys which never yet was felt, Whom flame before yet never touched, me thinks I feel them melt. One word & there an end: me thinks she is the sun, Which only shines now a days, she dead, the world were done. The rest are twinkling stars, or Moons which borrow light To comfort other careful souls, which wander in the night. And night God knows it is, where other ladies be, For sure my dame adorns the day, there is not sun but she. Than lovers by your leave, and think it nothing strange Although I seem with calm content, in Seas of joys to range: For why, my sails have sound both wound and waves at will, And depths of all delights in her, with whom I travel still charge. And anchors being weighed, I leave you all at large, To steer this seemly Ship myself, such is my mistress Fato non f●rtuna. Dan Bartholomew, Dolorous discourse●. I Have entreated care to cut the thread Which all to long hath held my lingering life, And here aloof now have I hide my head, From company, thereby to stint my strife. This solitary place doth please me best, Where I may wear my willing mind with moan, And where the sighs which boil out of my breast, May skald my heart, and yet the cause unknown. All this I do, for thee my sweetest sour, For whom (of yore) I counted not of care, For whom with hungry jaws I did devour The secret bait which lurked in the snare: For whom I thought all foreign pleasure's pain, For whom again, all pain did pleasure seem, But only thy, I found all fancies vain, But only thy, I did not dolours deem. Such was the rage, that whilom did possess The privy corners of my mazed mind: When hot desire, did count those torments less Which gained the gaze that did my freedom bind. And now (with care) I can record those days, And call to mind the quiet life I led Before I first beheld thy golden rays, When thy untruth yet troubled not my head. Remember thou, as I cannot forget, How I had laid, both love, and lust aside, And how I had my fixed fancy set, In constant vow, for ever to abide. The bitter proof of pangs in pleasure past, The costly taste, of honey mixed with gall: The painted heaven, which turned to hell at last The freedom feigned, which brought me but to thrall. The lingering suit, well fed with fresh delays. The wasted vows which fled with every wind: The restless nights, to purchase pleasing days, The toiling days to please my restless mind. All these (with mother) had bruised so my breast, And grafted such grief within my groaning heart, That I had left dame fancy and the rest To gréener years, which might endure the smart. My weary bones did bear away the scars, Of many a wound, received by disdain: So that I found the fruit of all those wars, To be nought else but pangs of unknown pain. And now mine eyes were shut from such delight, My fancy faint, my hot desires were cold, When cruel hap, presented to my sight, Thy maidens face, in years which were not old. I think the goddess of revenge deuysde, So to be wreackt on my rebelling will, Because I had in youthful years dispysde, To taste the baits, which tyste my fancy still. How so it were, God knows, I cannot tell: But if I lie, you heavens, the plague be mine, I saw not sooner, how delight did devil Between those little infant's eyes of thy, But straight a sparkling coal of quick desire, Did kindle flame within my frozen heart, And yielding fancy softly blue the fire, Which since hath been the cause of all my smart. What need I say? thyself for me can swear, How much I tendered thee in tender years: Thy life was than to me (God knows) full dear, My life to thee is light, as now appears. I loved thee first, and shall do to my last, Thou-babes flattredst first, and so thou wouldst do still: For love of thee full many pains I passed, For deadly hate thou seekest me to kill. I cannot now, with manly tongue rehearse, How soon that melting mind of thy did yield, I shame to write, in this waymenting verse, With how small fight, I vanquished thee in field: But Cesar he, which all the world subdued, Was never yet so proud of Uictorye, Nor Hanyball, with martial feats endued, Did so much please himself in policy, As I (poor ●) did seem to triumph than, When first I got the Bulwarks of thy breast, With hole Alarms I comforted my men, In foremost rank I stood before the rest, And shook my flag, not all to show my force, But that thou mightst thereby perceive my mind: Askaunces lo, now could I kill thy corce, And yet my life, is unto thee resinde. Well let them pass, and thin● upon the joy, The mutual love, the confidence, the trust, Whereby we both abandoned annoy, And fed our minds with fruits of lovely lust. Think on the Tithe, of kysses got by stealth, Of sweet embrace shortened by fear, Remember that which did maintain our health, Alas, alas why should I name it here. And in the midst of all those happy days, Do not forget the changes of my chance, When in the depth of many way ward ways, I only sought, what might thy state advance. Thou-babes must confess how much I card for thee, When of myself, I card not for myself, And when my hap was in mishaps to be, Esteemed thee more, than all the worldly pelf. Mine absent thoughts did beat on thee al●ne, When thou hadst found a fond and new-found choice: For lack of thee I sunk in endless moan, When thou in change didst tumble and rejoice. OH mighty gods needs must I honour you, Needs must I judge your judgements to be just, Because she did forsake him that was true, And with false love, did cloak a feigned lust. By high decrees, you ordained the change, To light on such, as she must needs myslike, A meet ●eward for such as seek to range, W●en fancies force, their feeble flesh doth strike. B●t did I than give bridle to thy fall, Thou-babes headstrong thou, accuse me if thou can? Did I not hazard love yea life and all, To ward thy will, from that unworthy man? And when by toil I travailed to find, The secret causes of thy madding mood, I found nought else but tricks of Cressides kind, Which plainly proud, that thou wert of her blood. I found that absent Troyius was forgot, W●en Dyomede had got both br●●che and belt, Both glove and hand, yea heart and all god wots, When absent Troilus did in sorrows swelled. These tricks (with mother) thou knowest thyself I found, Which now are needless here for to rehearse, Unless it were to touch a tender wound, With corosiues my panting heart to pierce. But as that Hound is counted little worth, Which giveth over for a loss or twain, And cannot find the means to single forth, The strike Dear which doth in herded remain: Or as the kindly Spanyell which hath sprung The pretty partriche, for the Falcon's flight, Doth never spare but thrusts the thorns among, To bring this bird yet once again to sight, And though he know by proof (yea dearly bought) That seld or never, for his own avail, This weary work of his in vain is wrought, Yet spares he not but labours tooth and nail. So laboured I to save thy wandering ship, Which reckless than, was running on the rocks, And though I see thee seem to hung the lip. And set my great good will, as light as flocks: Yet h●●ld I in, the main sheate of thy mind, And stayed thy course by anchors of advice, I worthy will into a better wind, To save thy ware, which was of precious price. And when I had so harboured thy Bark, In happy haven, which saufer was than Dover, The admiral, which knew it by the mark, Straight challengd all, and said thou wert a rover: Than was I forced in thy behalf to plead, Yea so I did, the judge can say not less, And whiles in toil, this loathsome life I lead, Camest thou thyself the fault for to confess, And down on knee before thy cruel foe, Didst pardon crave, accusing me for all, And saidst I was the cause, that thou didst so, And that I spoon the thread of all thy thrall. Not so content, thou furthermore didst swear That of thyself thou never meant to swerver, For proof whereof thou didst the colours wear, Which might be wray, what saint thou ment to serve. And that thy blood was sacrificed eke, To manifest thy steadfast martyred mind, Till I perforce, constrained thee for to seek, These raging seas, adventures there to find. Alas, alas, and out alas for me, Who an enforced, thus for to repeat The false reports and cloaked guiles of thee, Whereon (to often) my restless thoughts do beat. But thus it was, and thus God knows it is. Which when I found by plain and perfect proof, My musing mind than thought it not amiss, To shrink aside, lamenting all aloof, And so to beat my simple shiftless brain, For some device, that might redeem thy state, Lo here the cause, for why I take this pain, Lo how I love the wight which me doth hate: Lo thus I lie, and restless rest in Bath, Whereas I bathe not now in bliss perdie, But boil in Bale and skamble thus in scathe, Because I think on thy unconstancy. And will't thou know, how here I spend my time, And how I draw my days in dolours still? Than stay a while: give ear unto my rhyme, So shalt thou know the weight of all my will. When Titan is constrained to forsake, His lemons couch, and clymeth to his cart, Than I begin to languish for thy sake, And with a sigh, which may bewray my smart, I clear mine eyes whom gum of tears had glued, And up on foot I set my ghostlike corpse, And when the stony walls have often renewed My piteous plaints, with Echoes of remorse, Than do I cry and call upon thy name, And thus I say, thou cursed and cruel both, Behold the man, which takes grief for game, And loveth them, which most his name doth loath. Behold the man which ever truly meant, And yet accused as author of thy ill, Behold the man, which all his life hath spent, To serve thyself, and ay to work thy will: Behold the man, which only for thy love, Did love himself, whom else he set but light: Behold the man, whose blood (for thy behove) Was ever priest to shed itself outright. And canst thou now condemn his loyalty? And canst thou craft to flatter such a friend? And canst thou see him sink in jeopardy? And canst thou seek to bring his life to end? Is this the right reward for such desert? Is this the fruit of seed so timely sown? Is this the price, appointed for his part? Shall truth be thus by treason overthrown? Than farewell faith, thou art not woman's fere: And with that word I stay my tongue in time, With rolling eyes I look about each where, Lest any man should hear my raving rhyme. And all in rage, enraged as I an, I take my sheet, my slyppers and my gown, And in the Bath from whence but late I came, I cast myself in dolours there to drown. There all alone I can myself convey, Into some corner where I sit unseen, And to myself (there naked) can I say, Behold these braunefalne arms which once have been. Both large and lust●●, ●ble for to fight, Now are they weak, and wearishe God he knows, Unable now to daunt the foul despite Which is presented by my cruel foes. My thighs are thine, my body la●ck and lean, It hath not bombast now, but skin and bones: And on mine Elbow as I lie and lean, I see a trusty token for the nonce. I spy a bracelet bound about mine arm, Which to my shadow seemeth thus to say, Believe not me: for I was but a Charm, To make thee sleep, when others went to play. And as I gaze thus galded all with grief, I find it ●azed almost quite in sunder, Than think I thus: thus was●eth my relief, And though I fade, yet to the world not wonder. For as this lace, by leisure learns to wear, So must I faint, even as the candle wastes, These thoughts (dear sweet) within my breast I bear, And to my long home, thus my life it hasteth. Here with I feel the drops of sweltering sweat, Which trickle down my face, enforced so, And in my body feel I like wise beat, A burning heart, which tosseth to and from. Thus all in flames I sinderlyke consume, And were it not that wanhope le●ds me wind, Soon might I fret my facyes all in fume, And like a G●ost my ghost his grave might find. But frysing hope doth blow full in my face, And cold of c●reses becomes my cordial, So that I still endure that irksome place, Where sorrow séethes to skald my skin withal. And when from thence our company me drives, Or weary woes do make me change my seat, Than in my bed my restless pain revyues, until my fellows call me down to meat, And when I rise, my corpse for to array, I take the glass, sometimes (but not for pride, For God he knows my mind is not so gay) But for I would in comeliness abide: I take the glass, wherein I seem to see, Such withered wrynckles and so foul disgrace, That little marvel seems it to me, Though thou so well didst like the noble face. The noble face was fair and fresh of hew, My wrinkled face is fo●le and fades fast: The noble face was unto thee but new, My wrinkled face is old and clean outcast: The noble face might move thee with delight, My wrinkled face could never please thy eye: Lo thus of crime I covet thee to quite. And still accuse myself of Surcuydry: As one that an unworthy to enjoy, The lasting fruit of such a love as thy, Thus an I tickled still with every toy, And when my Fellows call me down to dine, Not change of meat provokes mine appetite, Nor sauce can serve to taste my meats withal, Than I devise the juice of grapes to dight, For Sugar and for Cinnamon I call, For Ginger, Grains, and for each other spice, Where with I mix the noble wine apace, My fellows praise the depth of my devise, And say it is as good as Ippocrace. As Ippocrace say I? and then I swelled, My fainting limbs straight fall into a sown, Before the taste of Ippocrace is felt, The naked name in dolours doth me drown, For then I call unto my troubled mind, That Ippocrace hath been thy daily drink, That Ippocrace hath walked with every wind In bottells that were filled to the brink. With Ippocrace thou banquetedst full oft, With Ippocrace thou mad'st thyself full merry, Such cheer had set thy new love so aloft, That old love now was scarcely worth a cherry. And than again I fall into a trance, But when my breath returns against my will, Before my tongue can tell my woeful chance, I hear my fellows how they whisper still. One saith that Ippocrace is contrary, Unto my nature and comple●ion, Whereby they judge that all my malady, Was long of that by alteration. An other saith, not, not this man is weak, And for such weak, so hot things are not best, Than at the last I hear not liar speak, But one which knows the cause of mine unrest, And says, this man is (for my life) in love, He hath received repulse, or drunk disdain, Alas cry I: and ere I can remove, Into a sown I soo●e return again. Thus drive I forth, my doleful dining time, And trouble others with my troubles still, But when I here, the bell hath passed prime Into the Bath I wallow by my will, That there my tears (unseen) might ease my grief, For though I starve yet have I fed my fill, In privy pangs I count my best relief. And still I strive in weary woes to drench. But when I plondge, than woe is at an ebb, My glowing coals are all to quick to quench, And I (to warm) an wrapped in the web, Which makes me swim against the wished wave, Lo thus (dear wench) I lead a loathsome life, And greedily I seek the greedy grave, To make an end of all these storms and strife. But death is deaf, and hears not my desire, So that my days continued still in dole, And in my nights, I feel the secret fire, Which close in embers, coucheth like a coal, And in the day hath been but raked up, With covering ashes of my company, Now breaks it out, and boils the careful cup, Which in my heart, doth hung full heavily. I melt in tears, I swelled in chilling sweat, My swelling heart, breaks with delay of pain I freeze in hope, yet burn in haste of heat, I wish for death, and yet in life remain. And when dead sleep doth close my dazzled eyes, Than dreadful dreams my dolours do increase, Me thinks I lie awake in woeful wise, And see thee come, my sorrows for to cease. Me seems thou sayst (my good) what means this? What ails thee thus to languish and lament? How can it be that bathing all in bliss, Such cause unknown disquiets thy content? Thou-babes dost me wrong to keep so close from me The grudge or grief, which gripeth now thy heart, For well thou knowest, I must thy partner be In bale, in bliss, in solace, and in smart. Alas, alas, these things I deem in dreams, But when mine eyes are open and awake, I see not thee, wherewith the flowing streams, Of bri●ish tears their wont floods do make, Thus as thou seest I spend both nights and days, And for I found the world did judge me once A witless writer of these lovers lays, I take my pen and paper for the nonce, I lay aside this foolish riding time, And as my troubled head can bring to pass, I thus bewray the torments of my time: Bear with my Muse, it is not as it was. Fa●o non fortuna. The extremity of his Passion. AMong the toye● which toss my brain, and reave my mind from quiet rest, This one I found, doth there remain, to breed debate wit been my breast. When woe would work to wound my will, I cannot weep, nor wail my fill. My tongue hath not the skill t●●ell, the smallest gri●f● which gripe's my heart, Mine eyes have not the power to swell, into such Seas of secret smart, That will might melt to waves of woe, and I might swell in sorrows so. Yet shed mine eyes not trickling tears, but floods which flow abundantly, Whose fountain first enforced by fears, found out the gap of jealousy. And by that breath, it soaketh so, that all my face, is still on flow. My voice is like the raging wound, which roareth still, and never stays. The thoughts which tumble in my mind, are like the wheel which whirls always, Now here, now there, now up, now down, in depth of waves, yet cannot drown. The sighs which boil out of my breast, are not like those, which others use, For lovers sighs, sometimes take rest, and lend their minds, a leave to muse, But mine are like the surging seas, whom calm nor quiet can appears. And yet they be but sorrows smoke, my breast the forge where fury play●●, My panting heart, it strikes the stroke, my fannie blows the flame always, The coals are kindled by desire, and Cupid warms him by the fire. Thus can I neither drown in dole, nor burn to ashes, ●hough I waste, Mine eyes can neither quench the coal, which warms my heart in all this haste. Nor ye● my fancy make such flame, that I may smoulder in the same. Wherhfore I come to seek out care, beseeching him of courtesy, To cut the thread which cannot wear, by pangs of such perplexity. And but he grant this boon of mine, thus must I live and ever pine. Fato non fortuna. LO thus (dear heart) I force my frantic Muse, To frame a verse in spite of my despighte, But while I do these mirthless méeters use This rash conceit doth reve me from delight. I call to mind how many loving lays, How many Sonnets, and how many songs I did devise within those happy days, When yet my will had not received wrongs. All which were evermore regarded so, That little fruit I seemed thereby to reap, But rather when I had bewrayed my woe Thy love was light, and lusted still to leap. The rhymes which pleased thee were all in print, And mine were ragged, hard for to be read, Lo dear: this dagger dubbes me with this di●t, And leaves this wound within my jealous head But since I have confessed unto care, That now I stand upon his courtesy, And that the bale, which in my breast I bore, Hath not the skill to kill me cunningly, Therefore with all my whole devotion, To Care I make this supplication. Fat● non fortuna. His libel of request exhibited to Care. OH Courteous Care, whom others (cruel) call, And rail upon thy honourable name, OH knife that canst cut of the thread of thrall, OH shear that shredst the semerent sheet of shame, OH happy end of every grievous game: Vouchsafe OH Prince, thy vassal to behold, Who loves thee more, than can with tongue be told. And now vouchsafe to pity this his plaint, Whose tears bewray, His truth always, Although his feeble tongue be forced to faint. I must confess OH noble king to thee, That I have been a Rebel in my youth, I priest always in pleasure's court to be, I fled from that, which Cupid still eschuth, I fled from Care, lo now I tell the truth, And in delights, I loved so to devil, Thy heavenly house, did seem to me but hell. Such was my rage, the which I now repent, And pardon crave, My soul to save, Before the web of weary life be spent. But mark what fruits did grow on such a tree, What crop did rise upon so rash sown seed, For when I thought myself in heaven to be, In depth of hell I drowned was in deed: Whereon to think my heavy heart doth bleed: Me thought I swum in Seas of all delight, When as I sunk in puddles of despite, Alas alas I thought myself beloved, When deadly hate, Did play check mate, With me poor pawn, that not such pranks had proved. This when I tried (aye me) to be to true, I wept for woe, I pined all for pain, I tear my hear, I often changed hew, I left delight, with dolours to complain, I shunned each place where pleasure did remain, I cried, I called on every kind of death, I strove each way to stop my fainting breath. Short tale to make, I slept so far in strife, That still I sought, With all my thought, Some happy help to leave my loathed life. But hope was he that held my hand aback, From quick dispatch of all my gripping grief, When heat of hate had burned my will to wrack, Than hope was cold and lent my life relief, In every choice hope challenged to be chief. When coldest cramps had clean or● come my heart, Than hope was hot, and warned my weary smart, When heart was hardy, hope was still in dread, When heart was faint, With fears attaint, Than hardy hope held up my fearful head. Thus when I found that neither flowing tears Can drown my heart in waves of weary woe, Nor hardy hand could overcome my fears, To cut the sack of all my sorrow so, Nor death would come, nor I to death could go. And yet I felt great drops of secret smart, Distilling still within my dying heart: I than perceived that only Care was he, Which as my friend, Might make an end, Of all these pains, and set my fancy free. Wherhfore (o Care) grant thou my just request▪ O kill my corpse, o quickly kill me now, O make an end and bring my bones to rest, O cut my thread (good Care) I care not how, O Care be kind: and here I make a vow, That when my life out of my breast shall part▪ I will present thee with my faithful heart▪ And sand it to thee as a Sacrifice, Because thou hast, Uouchsaft at last, To end my furies in this friendly wise. Fato non fortuna. WHat greater glory can a Keysar gain, If mad mood move his subjects to rebel, Than that at last (when all the traitors train, Have trod the path▪ of deep repentance well, And naked need with Cold and Hunger both, Hath bitten them abroad in foreign land, Whereby they may their lewd devises loath. When harebrained haste, with cold advise is scanned) If than at last, they come upon their knee, And pardon crave with due submission, And for this cause, I think that Care of me, Was moved most, to take compassion. For now I found, that pity pricks his mind, To see me ploo●ged still in endless pain, And right remorse, his princely heart doth bind, To rule the rage wherein I do remain. I feel my tears do now begin to stay, For Care from them their swelling springs doth soak, I feel my sighs their labours now allaye, For care hath quenched the coals that made them smoke. I feel my panting heart gins to rest, For Care hath staid the hammers of my head, I feel the flame which blazed in my breast, Are now with careful ashes overspread. And gentle Care, hath whet his karuing knife, To cut in twain the thread of all my thrall, Desired death now overcometh life, And we still works to help in haste with all. But since I feel these pangs approaching so, And loathed life begin to take his leave, Me thinks it meet, to give before I go. Such lands, and goods, as I behind me leave. So to discharge my troubled conscience, And eke to set an order for mine heir, Who might (perhaps) be put to great expense, To sue for that, which I bequeath him here. Wherhfore (dear wench) with all my full intent, I thus begin to make my Testament. Fato non fortuna. His last will and Testament. IN jove his mighty name, this eight and twentieth day, Of frosty bearded januar, the enemy to May: Since Adam was created, five thousand years I guess, Five hundredth, forty more and five, as stories do express. I being whole of mind, (immortal Gods have praise) Though in my body languishing with pang● of pain always, Do thus ordain my will which long in woes have wept, Beseeching mine executors to see it duly kept. first I bequeath my soul on Charon's boat to tend, until thy life (my love) at last may light on lucky end, That there it may await, to wait upon thy ghost, When thou haste quite & clean forgot what pranks now please thee most. So shall it well be seen whose love is like to mine: For so I mean to try my truth, and there till than to pine. My body be enbalmde, and cloazed up in chest, With ointments and with spiceries of every sweet the best: And so preserved still until the day do come, That death divorce my love from life, & truss her up in tomb. Than I bequeath my corpse to couch beneath her bones, And there to feed the greedy worms that linger for the nonce To fret upon her flesh, which is too fine therefore, This service may it do her yet, although it do not more. My heart (as heretofore) I must bequeath to Care, And God he knows, I think the gift to simple for his share, But that he may perceive, I mean to pay my dew, I will it shall be taken quick, and born him bleding new, As for my funerals, I leave that toy at large, To be as mine executors will give thereto in charge. Yet if my goods will stretch unto my strange device, Than let this order be observed, mine heir shall pay the price: First let the torch bearers be wrapped in weeds of woe, Let all their lights be virgin wax, because I loved it so. And care not though the twist be course that lends them light, If fancy fume, & frewill flame, them must they needs burn bright. Next them let come the choir, with psalms & doleful song, Recording all my rough repulse and wraying all my wrong, And when the deskant sings, in tréeble tunes above, Than let fa burden, say (by low) I lived and dayde for love: About my heavy hearse, some mourners would I have, Who might the same accompany, and stand about the grave, But let them be such men, as may confess with me, How contrary the lots of love, to all true lovers be. Let Patience be the Priest, the Clerk be Close conceit, The Sexton be Symplicitie, which means not deceit. Let alms of Love be dealt, even at the Chancel door, And feed them there with fresh delays, as I have ●en of yore: Than let the youngest sort, be set to ring loves bells, And pay Repentance for their pains, but give them nothing else, Thus when the Dirge is done, let every man departed, And learn by me what harm it is to have a faithful heart. Those little lands I have, mine heir must needs possess, His name is Lust, the lands be loss, few lovers scape with less. The best of all my goods, which I not here rehearse, Give learned Poets for their pains, to deck my with verse: And let them write these words upon my careful chest, Lo here he lies, that was as true (in love) as is the best. Alas I had forgot the people dew to pay, And so my soul in Purgatory, might remain always. Than for my privy Tithes; as kysses caught by stealth, Sweet collings & such other knaches as multiplied my wealth: I give the vicar here, to please his greedy will, A dainty dish of sugar sops but saust with sorrow still: And twice a week at lest, let dight them for his dish, O● fridays and on wednesdays, to save expense of fish. Now have I much bequeathed and little left behind, And others mother must yet be served or else I were unkind. Wet eyes and wailing words, Executors I make, And for their pains ten pound of tears let either of them take▪ Let sorrow at the last my Supravisor be, And steadfastness my surest stead, I give him for his fee: Yet in his patent place this Sentence of proviso, That he which loveth steadfastly, shall want not sa●se of sorrow. Thus now I make an end, of this my weary will, And sign it with my simple hand, and set my seal there till. And you which read my words, although they be in rhyme, Yet reason may persuade you eke, Thus lovers dote sometime. The Subscription and seal. MY Mansion house was Moon: from Dolours dale I came, I Fato: Non Fortuna, height, lo now you know my name: My seal is sorrows sythe, within a field of fame, Which cuts in twain a careful heart, that sweltreth in the same. Fato non Fortuna. ALas, lo now I hear the passing Bell, Which Care appointeth carefully to knoule, And in my breast, I feel my heart now swell, To break the strings, which joined it to my soul. The Crystal y●e, which lent mine eyes their light, Doth now wax dim, and dazzled all with dread, My senses all, will now forsake me quite, And hope of health abandoneth my head, My weary tongue can talk not longer now, My trembling hand now leaves my pen to hold, My joints now stretch, my body cannot bow, My skin looks pale, my blood now waxeth cold. And are not these, the very pangs of death? Yes sure (sweet heart) I know them so to be, They be the pangs, which strive to stop my breath, They be the pangs, which part my love from thee. What said I? Love? Nay life: but not my love, My life departs, my love continues still: My loathed life may from my corpse remove, My loving Love shall always work thy will. It was thy will even thus to try my truth, Thou-babes hast thy will, my truth may now be seen, It was thy will, that I should die in youth, Thou-babes hast thy will my years are yet but green. Thy penance was that I should pine in pain, I have performed thy penance all in woe, Thy pleasure was that I should here remain, I have been glad to please thy fancy so. Now since I have performed every part Of thy command, as near as tongue can tell, Content thee yet before my Muse depart, To take this Sonnet for my last farewell. Fato non fortuna. His Farewell. FArewell dear love whom I have loved and shall, Both in this world, and in the world to come, For proof whereof my sprite is Charon's thrall, And yet my corpse attendant on thy tomb. Farewell dear sweet, whose wanton will to please Each taste of trouble seemed mell to me, Farewell sweet deer, whose doubts for to appease, I was contented thus in bale to be. Farewell my life, farewell for and my death, For thee I lived, for thee now must I die, Farewell from Bath, whereas I feel my breath Forsake my breast in great perplexity, Alas how welcome were this death of mine, If I had died between those arms of thy. Fato non Fortuna. This should have been placed in the dolorous discourse, before the Supplication to Care in Folio. 430. The Reporter. THese vaunting verses with a many mother, (To his mishap) have come unto my hands, Whereof the rest (because he nailed so In bragger's boat which set itself on sands, And brought him eke fast bound in follies bands) Of courtesy I keep them from your sight, Let these suffice which of myself I write. The highest tree that ever yet could grow, Although full fair it florysht for a season, Found yet at last some fall to bring it low, This old said saw is (God he knoweth) not geason ason: For when things pass the reach and bounds of reason They fall at last, although they stand a time, And bruise the more, the higher that they climb. So Bartholomew unto his pain did prove. For when he thought his hap to be most high, And that he only reaped the fruits of love, And that he swelled in all prosperity, His comfort changed to calamity: And though I do him wrong to tell the same, Yet read it you, and let me bear the blame. The Saint he served become a crafty devil, His goddess to an Idol seemed to change, Thus all his good transformed into evil, And every joy to raging grief did range: Which Metamorphosis was meruells strange: Yet shall you seldom otherwise it prove, Where wicked Lust doth bear the name of love. This sudden change when he begun to spy, And ●old suspect into his mind had crept, He bounced and bet his head tormentingly, And from all company himself he kept, Whereby so far in storms of strife he stepped, That now he seemed an Image not a man, His eyes so dead, his colour waxed so wan. And I which always bore him great good will, (Although I known the cause of all his grief, And what had trained and tysed him theretyll, And plain to speak, what moved his mischief, Yet since I sought to ease him with relief:) I did become importunate to know, The secret cause whereon this grudge should grow. At last with much ado, his trembling tongue Bewrayed theffect of his vnwylling will, Which here to tell since it were all to long, And I therewith too barren am of skill, And trouble you with ●edyous tidings still, Content you now to hear himself rehearse, His strange affects in his lamenting verse. Which verse he written of Bath (as erst was said) And there I saw him when he written the same, I saw him there with many moans dysmayde, I saw him there both fryse and flash in flame, I saw him gréeu●d when others made good game: And so appears by his dark discourse, The which to read I crave your just remorse. The reporters conclusion unfinished. WHere might I now ●ind floods of flowing tears, So to suffice the swelling of mine eyes? How might my breast unload the bale it bears? Alas alas how might my tongue devise To tell this weary tale in woeful wise? To tell I say these tidings now of truth, Which may provoke the craggy rocks to ruth? In depth of dole would God that I were drowned, Where fl●ttring joys might never found me out, Or graved so within the greedy ground, As false delights might never breed my doubt, Nor guileful love her purpose bring about: Whose trustless trains in colours for to paint, I found by proof my wits are all to faint. I an that man whom destinies ordain, To bear each grief that grows on the mould, I an that man which prove unto my pain, Moore pangs at once than can with tongue be told, I an that man (hereof you may be bold) Whom heaven and earth did frame to scoff and scorn, I, I an he which to that end was born. sufficed not myself to taste the fruit, Of sugared sours which grow in gadding years, But that I must with pain of like pursuit, Perceive such pangs by pattern of my pears, And feel how fancies fume could fond my pheares: Alas I find all fates against me bend, For nothing else I live, but to lament. The force of friendship bond by holy oath, Did draw my will into these crooked ways, For with my friend I went to Bath (though loath) To lend some comfort in his dolie days, The steadfast friend sticks fast at all assays: Yet was I loath such time to spend in vain, The cause whereof, lo here I tell you plain. By proof I found as you may well perceive, That all good counsel was but worn in wast, Such painted pains his passions did deceive, That bitter gall was mell to him in taste, Within his will such roots of ruin placed, As graffs of griefs were only given to grow, Where youth did plant and rash conceit did sow. I saw long since his ears were open ay To every tale which fed him with some hope, As fast again I saw him turn away From grave advise, which might his conscience grope, From reasons rule his fancy lightly lope, He only gave his mind to get that gain, Which most he wished and least could yet attain. Not I alone, but many mother with me, Had found what fickleness his Idol used, And how she claimed Cressides heir to be, And how she had his great good will abused, And how she was of many men refused, Who tried her tricks and known her by the kind, Save only him she made not lover blind. But what for this? whose face is plainer seen, Than he which thinks he walketh in a net? Or who in bale hath ever deeper been, Than he which thought his state might not be bet, In such a jealousy these lovers jet, That weal to them doth seem to be but we, And grief seems joy, they hold their fancies so. Tell him that reason aught to be his rule, And he allowed not reason but his own, Tell him that best were quickly to recule, Before all force by fear were overthrown, And that his part. &c. I Have not (hitherto) recovered a full end of this discourse, the author thereof being more curious in delivery of the same, than he hath been heretofore in any other of his do. But since my trust is that you will use that and the rest but for your own private commodity, I an the bolder to present you with a co●ie thereof unperfect as it is, and now having finished this written regyster, it amounteth to a good round volume, the which some would judge worthy the Imprinting, but hoping of your courtesy (ut supra) I cease wyshing you not less profit than pleasure in reading and perusing these trifles. FINIS. IMPRINTED AT LONdon for Richard Smith.