A new Book called the Ship of safeguard, written by G. B.  
Anno. 1569.  
Imprinted at London by W. Seres.   

¶ To his very good Sister's Mistress Philip Darell, and Mistress Frances Darell, of the bouse of Scotney.  
OFTEN WITH MYSELF considering (my noun good Sisters) your virtuous and well disposed minds, in these your yonng and tender years, I thought it meet (as well to show my good will towards you, as to satisfy your well inclined affections) to take some travail in finding out such matter, as neither I might account my time vainly spent in writing, nor you yours evil employed in reading. Debating thus a while with myself what matter might best herein serve both our turns, I was thoroughly resolved with asmuch diligence as I could to make some discourse upon the perfit estate of a true christian, an estate above all others most happy and worthy, if it were as well renowned for life, as it is reverent for name, and perceiving the lives of Christians in these days so far differing from the sincerity that is required in a Christian professor, I gave for title to my Book the counterfeit Christian, wherein I declared the great disorders of this our time, as also the wonderful virtues and purity of life, that gloriously shined among the first and ancient professors of Christ, which Book being increased to some largeness of volume, and even almost ready to be published under the patronage and protection of your two names, by ill favoured misfortune perished. wherewithal something discontented that both I should thus be defrauded of the effect of my long travail, and you of that which so long and so earnestly I meant you. With a scarce quiet mind I hastily began this volume, which (because of the dangers of this world, whereby the soul enclosed in the bark of sinful flesh with great hazard passeth) I named the Ship of safeguard, a Ship but rudely furnished, and God knows simply rygged, as the great haste and small time enforced, wanting both strength of timber and comeliness of proportion, two evident signs of an unskilful workman. Notwithstanding howsoever it be, I dedicate it unto you as an earnest token of my good will towards you, not doubting but you will so accept it, whereunto I had also thought to have added (because I know you delight in stories) the lives and acts of divers men in the primative Church, whereof I began with one or two, but because they were tedious, and my leisure but little, I left then and proceeded no farther. God pour upon you his plenteous blessing, grant you long and prosperous years on earth, and after your passage from this vale of wretchedness, everlasting rest and joy in the kingdom of Heaven. From London the fourteenth of February.  
Your loving brother in law. G. B.   

To the Reader.  

WHo seeks to tread that happy path▪  
that leads to perfit bliss:  
And feign would find the certain way,  
that many wandering miss.  
Must banish ease and bend himself,  
to abide both care and pain:  
And seek to conquer each delight,  
and worldly pleasure vain.  
For as the way but narrow is,  
that leadeth strait to joy:  
So is it all beset with thorns,  
and briars that annoy.  
In every place are stubbles and pricks,  
that stays the feeble Feet:  
And loathsome for the time it seems,  
that after proves most sweet.  
A fearful heart refuseth quite,  
to walk that painful way:  
But careful minds regard not pain,  
such pleasure to assay.  
Both ways before the eyes doth lie,  
and view of every brain,  
The tone both narrow sour and sharp,  
the other smooth and plain.  
The tone doth after smart and grief,  
bring men where God doth rain:  
The other after pleasures sweet,  
brings everlasting pain:  
The tone doth glifter in the eyes,  
with fair and pleasant ground.  
The other loathsome seems and dark,  
and scarcely to be found.  
But hardest things experience tries,  
are often found most sweet:  
And high attempts for valiant hearts,  
are thought of all most meet.  
Thou therefore that dost mind to see:  
the joys celestial:  
And to behold that happy face,  
that never perish shall  
For sake this way that pleasant is,  
at first unto the eye:  
And as a danger foul and great,  
such flattering pleasures fly.  
Tread thou the path that mounteth up,  
to place where God doth live:  
And doth for every pain on earth,  
a thousand pleasures give.  
Such pleasures as do far surmount,  
the fading pleasures here:  
As far as doth the Sun excel,  
the Moon in shining clear.  
Faint not for any grief or pain,  
nor never weary be:  
Well may the way be passed, and God  
himself shall secure thee.  
For God doth aid all those that give  
themselves with all their might,  
To find his ways and courage gives  
to all that well do fight.  
Against the flattring of the world,  
and fancies vain of mind,  
No better captain canst thou have,  
nor guide of better kind.    

The Ship of safeguard  

THe wandering wight that in the raging seas.  
With sailing Bark doth seek the happy port,  
No leisure hath to give himself to ease:  
Ne time he finds wherein to play or sport.  
Each long delay, each calm doth him displease,  
Him listeth not to linger in such sort,  
In nothing joys, in nothing pleasure finds,  
Save in the blasts of prosperous happy winds.   

His careful brain is busied evermore,  
In viewing well his Compass and his Card  
And minding still what dangers lie before,  
What swelling sands, what rocks, what havens bard  
With skilful head he seeks the safest shore,  
And the therwarde doth sail with good regard,  
Brings home his Bark through storms & tempests great  
To happy port and long desired scat.   

The unskilful head, and reckless idle mind,  
Contrariwise doth give himself to rest,  
Not fearing storms nor boisterous blasts of wind,  
But in the midst of dangers feareth lest  
And thinks the Haven happily to find,  
When storms are past, and tempests cl●erely ●●ast,  
Thus guided evil his ship on rocks doth fall,  
And casts away both freight and fool and all.   

Even so the will and fancy vain of man,  
That through this world his pa●nefull passage makes,  
Who ought to seek by all the means he can  
Through dangers deep, and loathsome lowering lakes,  
That happy port for which his course began,  
For which each careful mind his travail takes,  
In thousand harms and thousand dabblers preit,  
Doth give himself to careless ease and rest,   

Regarding not the hazard of himself,  
Nor taking heed his fleshly foist to guide,  
Full fraught with sin, and care of worldly pelf,  
Makes no account of wether, wind or tide,  
But blindly strikes himself on every shelf,  
And in the floods of mischief wanders wide,  
Till on the rocks he desperately doth light,  
And loseth all for lack of guiding right.   

Within the seas of fond affection blind,  
That through the world in every place doth flow,  
Sails every Wight that liveth here by kind.  
And runs the race that fancy forth doth blow,  
And keeps the course that pleaseth best his mind,  
With sails full thwacked with wind and lusty show,  
But of ten thousand that thus do bravely fleet,  
Scarce ten at length do with the Haven me●te.   

The Haven fair I mean of perfit joy,  
Where chiefest pleasure hath her biding place,  
Where joy surinounts, where grief can not annoy,  
Where lives the king of everlasting grace,  
That well rewards each mind that doth employ  
Themself in travail to attain that place:  
And doth condemn to everlasting pain,  
All those that him forsake for pleasures vain.   

The seas be rough, the passage full of pain,  
The dangers great, the journey large and long,  
The Pilots ill, the Coast is nothing plain,  
The force but weak, the enemies stout and strong,  
The lets a number that labour to detain,  
And flattering shows that leads the master wrong,  
The straights of Marrocke are not half so ill,  
Ne race of Britain, ne Chary●dis, nor Scyll,   

Wherefore in vain we strine without a guide,  
To pass these seas where thousand dangers ●e●,  
With rocks and shelves beset on every side,  
Where nought but death the featefull eye can see,  
Now forced with winds, now driven back with tide,  
Nie drowned with cares, and bet with misery,  
Amazed with mists, and wandering without light,  
Except we find the help of holy spirit.   

Which spirit that in our journey we may have,  
With humble heart and earnest prayer made,  
With knees bowed down, his aid here let us crave,  
That he vouchsafe to teach us plain the trade  
Of sailing right, and from all dangers save  
Our simple souls, that through these seas must wave,  
With steadfast faith to him thus let us pray.  
That he may guide us through this doubtful way.   

O sacred spirit that all things well dorst guide,  
And bringest each good thought to his desire,  
And sufferest not no error to abide.  
Whereas it likes thy grace for to inspire:  
That dost for every humble heart provide,  
And showest the way with thy celestial fire,  
power down thy grace, direct my feeble hand,  
That I may show where perfit bliss doth stand.   

By thee we may be sure the way to find,  
That leadeth strait to perfit joy and bliss,  
By thee we shun the rocks and dangers blind.  
That makes us oft the Haven fair to miss,  
Thou only art the star that guidest the mind  
Unto the place where perfit pleasure is.  
Give me thy light, cast down thy beams from h●●,  
That I may show which way the course doth li●.   

The wretched seas of worldly pleasures vain,  
The mischiefs and the harms that comes thereby,  
The flattering shows, that trouble most the brain,  
The noisome lusts, and fancies there that lie,  
That causers are of everlasting pain,  
And casts away the souls that travail by:  
I will declare, and ●ke which way to run,  
What course to keep, what dangers for to shun.   

Within these seas, when first we enter in,  
When first to wind our sails committed be,  
When pleasantly on calmed streams we swim,  
A mighty rock lo straight at hand we see  
Of massy Gold, all decked and garnished trim,  
That doth allure the eye of each degree,  
The compass great with corners out doth lie,  
The height whereof doth reach the starry sky.   

A stately rock beset with Diamonds fair,  
And powdered round about with Rubles red,  
Where Emeralds green do glister in the air,  
With mantel blew of sapphires over spread▪  
Where wants no stone that nature can repair,  
No pearl of price nor Jewel polished.  
Another heaven for the time it seems,  
And oft for heaven foolish men it deems.   

With swelling sands it lies encompassed round,  
And many a ragged reach it sendeth out,  
Whereby full many a thousand have been drowned,  
Yet never cease they for to sail about,  
In gazing still upon this gorgeous ground,  
Approaching nearer not having any doubt,  
Till on the sands with hasty course they slide,  
And lose themselves upon this pier of pride,   

No greater danger shalt thou lightly find,  
That more mishap and mischief more doth make,  
Than this, that plucks away the sailors mind,  
And causeth him contrary course to take.  
Who forward puffed with fond vainglorious wind,  
His perfit way doth utterly forsake,  
Till on the sands his Real here haps to knock,  
And dasheth all a sunder on this rock.   

A wretched rock that mounting to the sky,  
(Contenting not himself with earthly spoil)  
Once onerthrew the Angels sitting high,  
And cast them headiong from their happy soil  
To darkest place where wailing now they lie,  
With grief ashamed of so great a foil.  
The chief estates and princes here below,  
Have ●ke good cause this dangerous place to know.   

The raging waves doth belching upward cast  
The wretched wracks that round about do fleets,  
The silken sails and glistering golden Mast,  
Lies all to torn and trodden under feet.  
The witless throng of women swarming fast,  
Like Parrots pied in garments far unmeet,  
With scarves and feathers like to soldiers breast,  
With painted hear and shameless bared breast.   

A monstrous sort of men there shalt thou see,  
Not men, but devils sure that bear the face  
Of men, that never can contented be  
With comely garments meet, but (void of grace)  
Forgetting quite their ancient old degree,  
To women changed, their manly shapes deface  
With slender wastes, as Maidens most do use.  
And frizzled hear like haulots of the stews.   

With countenance coy, and forehead forced high,  
And staring top as lately frayed with spirits,  
In rich attire, to feed the gazers' tie,  
That evermore in glistering show delights,  
A sort of beasts, whose chiefest joy doth lie,  
In decking up themselves for wondering sights,  
In yellow, red, and Purple to be seen,  
Sometimes like fools in gowns of gaudy green.   

As painted tombs that stinch and filth contain,  
And Arras fair that rotten walls doth hide,  
So do these fools, with all their garments vain,  
And fresh attire dressed up in pomp and pride,  
Nought else but beastly minds and doltish brain,  
Fair covered, keep which filthy else were spied.  
For underneath their garments glistering brave,  
Lies minds corrupt as rotten bones in grave.   

A sinful sort that wholly spend their life,  
In setting out their stinking carcase here,  
Who night and day do pass with care and strife,  
In studying how they fairest may appear,  
And weary soon of fashions old and rife,  
Disguise themselves in new disguised gear,  
As not consisting of their proper mind,  
But changing still as changed things they find.   

Fly thou this rock and take good heed thereto,  
For who so keeps this dreadful dangerous way.  
Shall run the race that him shall quite undo,  
And miss the mark by sailing thus astray,  
That should him bring the happy Haven to,  
No mischief more doth breed the soul's decay,  
No greater harm can hap to mortal kind,  
Than for to run upon this danger blind.   

For who so once upon the same doth fall,  
Forgetteth God, forgets his own estate,  
Of good or virtue makes no count at all,  
So he may live aloft without a mate,  
And for to attain a little glory small,  
He nought esteems of mighty Jove the hate,  
Who of all other sorts can worst abide,  
Such kind of men as most delights in pride,   

But to avoid this rock and hazard great,  
Strike thou thy sails and bear thy countenance low,  
Eat sumptuous show, regard not Lordly seat,  
Nor to be known, seek rather God to know,  
Who being Lord and prince of glory great,  
Came down from high, and lived on earth below  
In poor attire and simple show beside,  
To teach us men for to beware of pride.   

Remember still how that the lofty mind  
That in this world doth seek to glister so,  
Blown on this rock by fond vainglorious wind,  
Fall headlong down to everlasting woe,  
Where no release of torments shall he find,  
But as he wonted in colours bright to go,  
So bright in flames of fires shall he blaze,  
Who flamed afore for every eye to gaze.   

Be never proud of what so nature gives,  
For what she gives, in time she takes away,  
The fairest creature, the finest wit that lives,  
In shortest time we see doth clean decay,  
Away goeth all though never so sore it grieves,  
No pleasant thing can here have longer stay,  
What folly then is it to set delight,  
On fading smokes, and lose the heavens bright?   

Be lowly minded, of meek and humble cheer,  
Think glory unmeet for men of base degree,  
Since God for pride with Angels would not bear,  
Be well assured he will not bear it in thee,  
To late thou shalt repent, when thou shalt see,  
The sober sort most simply clothed hear  
With glistering robes amongst the Angel's hi●,  
And thou thyself with Devils low to lie,   

The grief beside is great of troubled mind,  
That in this world they often time sustain:  
As want of wealth that stops their fancies blind,  
Whereby they far like Tantalus in pain,  
In every place men costly clad they find,  
And they themselves can not thereto attain,  
Sometime diseases sore doth them deface,  
Then farewell joy a ground is all their grace.   

The crystal Glass wherein they wont to pry  
With joyful heart, to see their beauty clear,  
Gives out a shape unpleasant to the ●ie,  
Whereas their crabbed countenance doth appear,  
All fret with holes, where Pocks of late did lie,  
Down falls the visage then with heavy cheer,  
And mourning tho, from thence apace they go,  
As men amazed with some sudden woe.   

The pleasant fame for ever now is gone,  
That wont was their ears for to delight,  
Of mark him well, lo yonder goeth one  
In whom hath Nature sought to show her might,  
A comelier creature you can not look upon,  
Of better favour or framed in better plight,  
Now no such sound but scorned on every side,  
While each one saith behold the end of pride.   

Therefore take heed that in these seas dost sail,  
Let not this vain delight deceive thy mind,  
But rather strive against it to prevail,  
And seek the channel of lowliness to find,  
Which when thou gettest, no tempest can thee quail,  
Thou needest not fear no storm nor changing wind,  
For there is harbrow safe for every Wight,  
That in this happy Channel haps to light.   

This danger past, and left aleofe behind,  
Before thine eyes doth strait again appear,  
A fowl deformed pile and hazard blind,  
That casts away all such as travail near,  
A loathsome rock and hurtful to the mind,  
All over grown with moss and rusty gear,  
Deformed to the eye, yet doth allure  
Of earthly men the earthy minds unpure.   

A dangerous place that numbers doth destroy,  
Of such as careless are of sailing right,  
Whose brutish minds have here no other joy,  
Then on the dross of earth to set delight,  
This mischief great doth besest minds annoy,  
And never hurts the hawrie heavenly spirit,  
But greedy minds and such as are not wise,  
This loathsome place is called Anarice.   

A number great of wracks here shalt thou see,  
That thick in thousands about this place dee swarm,  
That never could alive admonishde be  
For to beware of this so great a harm,  
Nor to eschew this present icoperdie,  
sufficed no words their Graceless minds to charm,  
Nor no advise could cause them sail aright,  
Till on this rock they wilfully do light.   

With countenance pale and wan thou shalt behold  
Their carcase quite consumed unto nought,  
Their wearish limbs with cares congealed cold,  
Their blood dried up with sorrow and with thought,  
Their feeble fingers still clasping in of gold.  
Desire whereof to them this mischief brought,  
Hanged round about with bags on every side,  
The poised whereof doth cause them there to bide.   

Upon the sands great Caskets heaped lie,  
And Coffers stuffed with every kind of coin,  
Scraped up by fraud and filthy usury,  
Now here, now there, wheresoever they could purloin,  
By force, by fraud, or any villainy,  
Of rich, of poor, of Courtier or of Cloyne,  
They weigh not where nor how they do it get,  
For all is fish with them that comes to net.   

A filthy mind that travails to no end,  
But for to please the still desiring eye,  
Esteems no pain, regards no foe nor friend,  
Helps not himself, nor no man else thereby,  
In sparing, joys, and pineth if he spend,  
Is never good until the time he die,  
Which time he pleasures many with his hoard,  
As doth the Swine when as he comes to board,   

A brutish fort that never can rejoice  
While here they live, for cark, for fear or toil,  
Still dreaming that they hear the dreadful voice  
Of thief at hand, or soldier them to spoil,  
Or sudden death that makes of them no choice,  
But takes them hence amid their most turmoil,  
And rakes them up in earth enclosed deep,  
Where void of gain and kept for pain they sleep.   

What profits them their heaps of riches great,  
For which alive they took such care and pain,  
Oft wanting sleep, forbearing often meat,  
With greedy mind to increase their treasure vain,  
When loathsome worms their carcase vile shall eat,  
And Fiends convey their souls to Pluto's reign,  
Kung down to hell with Cursings of the poor,  
Whose wives and children lie weeping without door.   

What helps the wealth that doth not setue the need?  
What good doth Gold that doth but feed the eye?  
What gain but grief have they for all their need?  
That labour here for money till they die,  
Which long kept in is spent at length with spread,  
Perhaps of him that was the enemy,  
A goodly thing to pine for riches so,  
And know not who shall have them when we go.   

O wretched beasts, that never have no end,  
Of this your vile and covetous desire,  
Why spare you thus that other folks shall spend?  
You toil and moil like Bayard in the mire,  
Yourselves to grave before your time you send,  
And so from thence to everlasting fire,  
Where you shall find the fruits of all your gain,  
In broiling flames and never ceasing pain.   

The poor oppressed whom in this world you polled,  
Yourselves shall see to glister in the shy,  
And call and ball to them for water cold,  
To cool your heat in torments where you lie,  
But all in vain, for this you have been told,  
By him that preached with Lasarus from his,  
And since you would not by others harms take heed,  
Blame no man though in like sort if you speed.   

God hath himself declared to you before,  
That even as slow rich men to heaven fly,  
And enter in as hardly at the door,  
As doth the Camel pass a Needles ●ie.  
Your burden great extorted from the poor,  
Doth keep you down, you can not mount so high,  
The path is narrow, the gates are very strait,  
You can not enter, with so great a weight.   

Your factors lie not there to answer you,  
Your bill of debt, nor no such other gear,  
Nor by exchange you can have nothing due,  
Your double usauce is but single there,  
The trade is changed, the world is altered new,  
Your toyie for gain shall purchase homely cheer,  
Your ten in hundreds will scarcely then amount,  
When for your dealings you shall be called to count.   

A thousand actions shallbe entered there,  
Against you for your fraud and usury,  
And Lawyer none shall show his face for fear,  
Though you retain him with his double fee,  
Lest that in pleading it plainly doth appear,  
His Client's cause and his for to agree,  
The Judge is wise, and easl● can espy  
If fault or fraud do under colours lie.   

With quaking heart at ●arre then shalt thou stands,  
Without advice or any other aid,  
High holding up thy guilty gilted hand,  
For fear of sentence utterly dismayed,  
Thy whole account shall thoroughly there be scandt,  
And every title perfitly be weighed.  
And every penny how it hath been spent,  
That unto thee for purpose good was ●ent.   

Therefore who saileth near this loathsome place,  
Fall off betimes and keep another way,  
Have in thy mind the Haven fair of grace,  
And from thy Compass go not much a●●ray,  
Behold thy Card and keep a perfit race,  
And in such dangers make no long delay,  
No ancours here beware that thou do cast,  
For ship and all will soon he laid up fast.   

If that the burden that thou ●earst be great,  
Cast over board both bags and baggage quite,  
Let never Gold thee of thy joy defeat,  
Safe shalt thou sail and better travail light,  
Than overladen to lose the happy seat,  
And never find the gorgeous Haven bright,  
Of rest and bliss, where free and frankest minds  
Do shroud their ships escaped from greedy winds.   

Well mayst thou employ the riches here thou hast,  
And please the king and Lord of glory hi●,  
If that thou mak'st of them no wanton waist,  
●e scrapest them up in Coffers close to lie,  
But layst them where they may be safest placed,  
Upon the poor that live in ●●serie,  
And upon such as comfortless remain,  
This is the best and surest kind of gain.   

●ow goodly a thing is it for to relieve  
●hafflicted case of men with need oppressed,  
●hom daily cares and troubled mind doth grieu●,  
That scarce can find an hour of quiet rest,  
whilst thou hast thousands hanging on thy sleeve,  
●nd spendst thy days with velth and pleasure b●est,  
remember well, that richesses are but lent,  
●nd nothing ours but that which well is spent.   

Another mischief in the way doth stand,  
With ugly shape and vile deforined sight,  
Encompassed round with quick and quivering sand,  
That swallows up all such as thereon light,  
Fowl swarms of serpents crawl on every hand,  
With ghastly teeth and stings imbrued with spite,  
Whose hissing tongues do yield a filthy noise,  
A loathsome sound, a most unpleasant voice.   

About this rock in every place they ●rall,  
And shak● their tongues at them that travail by,  
Whom envious winds doth cause with them to fall,  
And spite compelles to run their course awry,  
Most wretched guides to guide a Bark withal,  
And most vnmeet● such dangerous seas to try,  
Who never cease till all be overthrown,  
Till Foist and freight be under surges blown.   

Here poisoned vapours continually do rise,  
And yelling noise and hateful cry is hard,  
The h●llish clouds so da●e the sailors eyes,  
That scarce he sees his Compass or his Card,  
Except he skilful be and very wise,  
And of his course have always good regard,  
And cast about to meet some better wind,  
Tha● may him bring unto his port assigned.   

The tide is strong that runneth thereabout,  
The weather great that beats upon the cost,  
The hold ●o weak to think to rid it out,  
Whereby full many at ancour have been ●ost,  
That thought it safe and made thereof no doubt,  
And perished where as they trusted most,  
This harmful place Detraction hath to name,  
An ancient enemy to the Bark of fame.   

Upon this rock as lost and cast away,  
All those whose tongues delight in y●● report,  
And make of slanders but a kind of play,  
Wherewith themselves most spitefully they sport,  
Defacing quite by all the means they may  
Both name and fame of every kind of sort,  
Still charging them with this thing and with that,  
And oftentimes they wo●e not well with what.   

Of every man their tongue must run at large,  
Nought can be said but must their judgement pass,  
Their oars must be a board in every barge,  
With each man's life they me●●, and yet (alas)  
Their own is worst, whereof they take no charge,  
Their own deformities they view not in the glass,  
But look in others what they find a●isse,  
Apace at that with hateful tongue they hiss.   

Whatsoever they see, or whatsoever they hear,  
They make much worse tha● it was said or meant,  
Their cankered tongues so spiteful do appear,  
That still to ill they change the good intent,  
And make it dark that of itself was clear,  
Because it doth not their momish minds content,  
What likes them not must straight dispraised be,  
Their eyes be dim, they can n● virtue says.   

The vertuoust man that can be found alive,  
Can not escape their spiteful poisoned tongue,  
Though that by all the means he can, he 〈◊〉 rive,  
With virtuous life to cease the rumour sprung,  
No virtuous act these Was●es away can drive,  
But Har●y like they file all with their dung,  
●n every table, on every place they lay●  
Their filth and stinch, and all things soul array.   

Most loath some fowls that have no other food,  
But feed upon the fame of curie man,  
A filthy race, a cursed beastly brood,  
Who while themselves no kind of virtue can,  
Yet in their fond and frantic furious mood,  
They others spoil of virtuous fame, and when  
They see that any seek to live upright,  
Their envious hearts are like to break with spite.   

This wretched sort have swarmed evermore,  
And have continued since the world was made,  
Increasing still with poison kept in store,  
Have never ceased their former cursed trade.  
The godliest men in ages here before,  
Can never cause this graceless sort to fade,  
Do what they could, they could not scape the sting  
Of slanderous tongues that more and more did spring.   

Good Moses' old, whose meek and virtuous spirit,  
Deserved well of every kind of man,  
Redressing wrong and always furthring right,  
Of whom a fame through all the world out ran,  
In whom th'almighty Lord took great delight,  
And pattern first of princely power began,  
Can not escape this cankered currish sort,  
That steynd his fame with lewd and ill report.   

Reporting that he wrought by sorcery,  
Such wonders great as at that time they saw,  
And that he governed all by tyranny,  
Misusing men without all right or law,  
Oppressing poor men with extremity,  
And better so to keep them under awe,  
Invented eke a fond religion vain,  
Devised only by his subtle brain.   

The righteous Job that perfit was and just,  
In whom the devil himself no fault could find,  
That served God with earnest faith and trust,  
Obedient always to his sacred mind,  
Despised the world, despised all fleshly lust,  
And never yielded to affection blind,  
Yet felt the tongue and sting of slanderous fame,  
That found in him things worthy still of blame.   

The holy prophets that lived long ago,  
Like Gods on earth with virtue shining bright,  
Who planted virtue where vice before did flow,  
And on the heavens set their whole delight,  
In teaching men the right way here to go,  
Were oft reviled with great reproach and spite,  
And counted were seditious men and nought,  
And such as all things out of order brought.   

That happy messenger that brought the ridings glad,  
That made the heavy heart for to rejoice,  
And cast away their doleful couninance sad,  
revived with his healthful heavenly voice,  
While as he preached with skins of Camel clad,  
And brought them there of heaven happy choice,  
This cursed sort that all things wrong do wrest,  
Reporteth that the devil him possessed.   

The almighty Lord that down from heaven hie,  
Amongst us came to save such as were lost,  
In whom no sin nor kind of vice did lie,  
All full of grace and of the holy ghost,  
Relieved all that unto him did cry,  
And healed the sick and sore in every cost,  
For all his virtue, for all his state divine,  
Was called a glutton, a drinker deep in wine.   

What should I call to mind the lewd report,  
His good disciples got for all their pain,  
The infamies that touched that sacred sort,  
That gave their lives to increase the heavenly reign,  
Who made of cruel torments but a sport,  
And laughed to scorn the Heathenish follies vain,  
The slanderous tongues yet blazed in every place,  
How they ne had religion, God, nor grace.   

What should I tell the cankered carlish spite  
showed openly at this same present day,  
Of such as boast in God's behalf to write,  
Whose devilish tongues their hellish hearts bewray,  
With blasphemies the heavens hie they smite,  
And open mouthed with Wolvish voice théy bray,  
Christ never taught no such uncourteous style,  
Ne seems a Christian such loathsome language vile.   

His spirit was meek, his talk was always mild,  
With words of comfort evermore he spoke,  
All bitter speech from him was quite exiled,  
Wherefore he bade all his example take,  
And therefore he that thinks to be the child  
Of God, ill tongue must utterly forsake,  
Uncourteous speech, of heaven doth not smell,  
Nay rather stinketh of the pit of hell.   

The Fiends that low beneath in Limbo lie,  
Condemned to perpetual pain and shame,  
This churlish speech do use continually,  
And bark and banle at every virtuous name,  
Their hellish throats with hateful noise do cry,  
And still accuse the saints of God with blame,  
Malebouche their master doth them ever teach,  
With cursed speech and poisoned tongue to preach.   

For slander there is counted virtue great,  
In hateful words they most of all delight,  
Fowl Infamy hath there the chiefest seat,  
A companied with malice and with spite,  
Who drops of envy continually do sweat,  
With hateful show and foul ill-favoured sight,  
Repining still at all men that do well,  
And fearing God, do shun the pit of hell.   

But thou that seekest the happy heavenly seat,  
Keep not this course but well thereof beware,  
With spiteful tongue do thou no man entreat,  
Of others faults have never to much care,  
But of thine own that livest in dangers great,  
Such toil is much and well thou mayst it spare,  
Of others faults what needst thou babble so,  
When thou thyself hast vices many more.   

Let no man's life by thee defaced be,  
Take not away that thou canst not restore,  
And look what faults in others thou dost see,  
Take heed that in thyself it be not more,  
Report not ill, speak well of each degree,  
Increase not grief, but rather salve the sore,  
Good words of all men gaineth laud and praise,  
Where as ill tongues are counted castaways.   

The gentle mind doth plainly represent,  
A lively form of God himself on high,  
Whose gracious will to goodness always bend,  
Delights in mildness and in clemency,  
Who chief framed man for that intent,  
To bear some show of sacred majesty,  
But cursed speech this picture out doth race,  
And setteth up the devil in the place.   

Avoid this danger, and further from it fly,  
Let not such mischief thy destruction be,  
For fear of losing all, sail not to nigh,  
The loss is great, some safer shore go see,  
Where as at anchor thou mayst safely lie,  
And rest, least to much travail weary thee,  
In dangers great we may not run at length,  
But rest a while to gather farther strength.   

Hoist by thy sails, and give them to the wind,  
These dangers past, the fewer do remain,  
Take courage good, and show thy valiant mind,  
And weigh that pleasure follows after pain,  
As after troubles quiet rest we find,  
That far surmounts our toils and travails vain,  
For who so shrinks with painful things to meet,  
Is far unworthy for to taste the sweet.   

Sail on thy course, and cast a careful eye,  
About thyself within these seas so tossed,  
And ever mark what perils near do lie,  
Lest that thy negligence thee dearly cost,  
And sounding sure, the hurtful places try,  
Upon the which have thousand souls been lost,  
That carelessly with unadvised mind,  
Have blindly followed every puffed of wind.   

Before thy face at hand thou shalt behold,  
A foul great flat most loathsome for to see,  
All overspread with limbs and bodies cold,  
And Barks and Boats that all to broken be,  
From whence the freight upon the sands are rolled  
And tumbled out thereon, both he and she,  
That sprawling lie upon this wretched place,  
With pitcous look and unserable face.   

About the broken Barks do scattered lie,  
Great tons of wine, of every kind of sort,  
And sumptuous tables with dishes heaped high,  
And costly banquets painted with disport,  
The more to please the greedy glutton's eye,  
That unto them oft useth to resort,  
No kind of flesh or fish there can be got,  
But may be seen heaped up upon this plot.   

All ready dressed and furnished to the eye,  
With sundry sauces the stomach to allure,  
Great platters there with wild fowl full do lie,  
And spits full charged, that scarce their weight endure  
Of dainty beasts and dainty birds them buy,  
As greedy lust can for the paunch procure,  
Each dish dressed up as best may please the taste,  
With great expense and sinal account of waste.   

About these dishes round attending stand,  
Each vile disease that may be named or found,  
The groaning gout with shackled foot and hand,  
That scarce can stay from falling to the ground,  
The Dropsy pale stands shaking on the sand,  
With belly swollen that yields a hollow sound,  
The Fever hot sits gaping here for wind,  
Whose scorched tongue no taste in meat can find.   

Quotidians there and Quartans shalt thou see,  
Now quaking cold, now burning all on flame,  
There double, half, and bastard Certians be,  
Continuars and those that Hectic have to name,  
With many more of this fraternity,  
Whereat Physicians oft make pleasant game,  
Attaining unto treasure and to wealth,  
More weeping gold than any patients health.   

A number great of sicknesses beside,  
With piteous face and miserable show  
May every where about this place be spied,  
That in these full fed fools do often grow,  
As Pleuresies with torments in the side,  
And jaundices in moving faint and slow,  
With falling sickness that foaming foul doth lie,  
And Apoplexies murdering suddenly.   

Most grievous pains and swimming in the head,  
With Letharges forgetting every thing,  
And strangling quinsies with flaming humours fed,  
That many men unto their graves do bring,  
Consuming Ptisicks long lingering in the bed,  
And painful colics whose grief the guts do wring,  
Both Stone & Strangury lie here with grievous pain,  
And many more that to rehearse were vain.   

This fearful place is called Gluttony,  
Wherein great numbers have been cast away,  
While as with greedy lust they sailed buy  
And ran their course by negligence astray,  
Eat thou this danger, and from this mischief fly,  
And let not such an ill be thy decay,  
Let thousands dying there before thy face,  
Example be for thee to shun this place.   

A wretched vice, a sinful crime it is,  
To pamper up the flesh with his delight,  
Whereby more prone it is to live amiss,  
And more meet for to resist the spirit,  
That Creature never seeks the place of bliss,  
Nor never thinks upon the heavens bright,  
That studies here his greedy lust to please;  
And for to pass his time in rest and ease.   

The flesh will never here subdued be,  
Nor made obedient to the heavenly mind,  
While as we farce it up in this degree,  
With meat of every dainty sort and kind,  
These fine fed folks as daily we may see,  
Are bend to lust and fleshly affections blind,  
But few of them that virtuous are or chaste,  
That have their guts thus inwardly bombast.   

As wood heaped up a high upon the fire,  
Or oil cast in doth more augment the heat,  
So doth this foul and filthy fond desire  
Of surfeiting and cramming in of mere,  
Increase the flame of lecherous desire,  
And makes the body blaze with vices great,  
Unmeete to follow any virtue good,  
While as it is so cherished with food.   

The feeble brain with stinking vapours dazed  
That boiling in the stomach upward rise,  
Astonished and utterly amazed,  
Cannot aspire unto the haughty skies,  
So weak it is, and so with surfeits crazed,  
That in the body all a sleep it lies,  
Applying not itself the way to find,  
For to restrain the affections of the mind.   

O what a sort may at this day be found,  
That only give themselves to eat and drink  
Like brutish beasts, that grazing on the ground  
Continually, of nothing else doc think,  
What greater shame to Christians can redound?  
What more before the face of God doth stink▪  
Than thus to feed the paunch continually,  
That to the soul is such an enemy.   

What folly greater can committed be,  
Then where we here may live long time in heith,  
With moderate diet and fobrietie,  
All void of sickness that far surmounteth wealth,  
We rather choose to live in misery,  
And for to lack both quietness and health,  
Esteeming more a graceless pleasure vain,  
Than for to keep our bodies out of pain.   

And where as nature doth well herself content  
With slender diet, wherein she most delights,  
Of which hath God sufficient always sent,  
To serve our need, and to refresh our spirits,  
We never ceasing to feed with belly bend,  
Still cramming in like greedy ravening Kites,  
Both God displease, and nature quite destroy,  
And for our labour lose eternal joy.   

Therefore eschew thy beastly greedy mind,  
This gormandize, this filthy foul delight,  
For brutish beasts, and not for men assigned,  
Help not the flesh to overthrow the spirit,  
But help the spirit to daunt affections blind,  
So shalt thou make both soul and body light,  
When both in one shall happily agree,  
To seek the skies where thou shalt blessed be.   

Eat not to much, but often use to fast,  
Both Nature bids, and Christ commandeth so,  
Our father's old that lived in ages past,  
Found great relief by this in present woe,  
Who striving long thus tamed their flesh at last,  
And overthrew by this their deadly foe,  
While as forbearing meat and sin withal,  
With fervent prayer on God they used to call.   

A virtue great is abstinence no doubt.  
Of every man to be esteemed much,  
A helping hand to them that go about,  
The sacred skies with heavenly mind to touch,  
No better fence to keep the devil out,  
No greater force, no aid nor succour such,  
Physicians count it Nature's chiefest friend,  
And God himself doth highly it commend.   

Bear of therefore and come not near the place,  
That all imbrued with Giuttons' blood doth lie,  
Whose souls in hell in miserable case,  
With piteous plaint and howling noise do cry,  
Lamenting sore their former lack of grace,  
While here they led their life licentiously.  
When as thou hast escaped this jeopardy,  
Before thy face again thou shalt descry   

A gorgeous I'll, an earthly paradise,  
Wherein there wants no kind of pleasant sight,  
No glistering show, nor costly fine device,  
That may increase the traveler's delight,  
All garnished round with things of greatest price,  
The sight whereof revives the gazers' spirit,  
Doth please the eye, and doth allure the mind  
Of men that think safe harbour there to find.   

Of compass large, and full of beauty fair,  
The sightly show doth lie before thy face,  
Which seems as Nature there had set her chair,  
And chosen that her happy resting place,  
From whence there comes a sweet and pleasant air,  
That far surmounts the Amber Grece in grace,  
With music sweet and pleasant heavenly sound,  
That round about doth in the air resound.   

The clives are high, and all of Crystal shine,  
Upon the top where of in order grows,  
High haughty trees with majesty divine,  
That glistering green far of in shadows shows,  
There stately stands the lofty lordly Pine,  
With Ceders placed and Fir trees set in rows,  
Thick groves of myrtles comely to be seen,  
With coverts close of pleasant Laurel green.   

Beyond these same are mountains rising high,  
Clad round about with trees of diverse kind,  
That placed in order much delight the eye,  
And thither draw the sailors wandering mind,  
Who think they see these hills to touch the sky,  
In view whereof they pleasure great do find,  
There round about in every place below,  
Fair purple Roses joined with Jasmins grow.   

In every place may beauty there be seen,  
In every place is pleasure for the eye,  
Throughout the woods and pleasant forests green,  
Great flocks of birds of every sort do fly,  
Of colours strange and seldom to be seen,  
That sit and sing upon the branches hie,  
With curious note and skilful melody,  
Agreeing all in perfit harmony.   

No loathsome sight doth any where appear,  
No thing disordered any kind of way,  
But all things shining there with beauty clear,  
Alluring unto pleasure and to play,  
That they that once do chance to travail near,  
Have never mind to come from thence away,  
Such pleasure straight they do conceive in mind,  
As no where else save there they think to find.   

And round about in every place they meet,  
With shalls of Mermaid's swimming here and there,  
Whose beauty great and pleasant singing sweet,  
So daunts the eyes and ears of them that hear,  
That marvel is it if they hold their feet,  
From flying over to that lusty cheer,  
Their beauty is such, their voice doth so delight,  
That with their tongues they conquer every wight.   

Such is the force of this their melody,  
That long time since and many years ago,  
The wise Ulysses when he passed eye,  
Being tossed on seas and beaten to and fro,  
Desirous for to hear this harmony,  
And to escape the danger and the woe,  
Stopped up his servants ears with wax, and fast  
Caused them to bind himself unto the Mast.   

Thus sailing forward near this pleasant place,  
With wished winds and all thing serving meet,  
These Merinaydes fair appeared before his face,  
With shining countenance and voices passing sweet,  
There sundry songs they song with comely grace,  
And with their ditties divers did him greet,  
Their sweet accord and passing princely sound,  
Did from the waves unto the skies rebound.   

Which found when as Ulysses straight did hear,  
Can not restrain the affections of his mind,  
But loud he calls with grief and troubled cheer,  
And wills his men with haste him to unbind,  
Thus calling out and crying never the near,  
He wrists and wries all means he may to find  
To unlose himself, and striving all in vain,  
He beats his head against the Mast amain.   

His wisdom great, could not his fancy guide,  
Ne rule his mind, nor bridle his delight,  
But if at liberty he had been then untied,  
He would have leapt amid that pleasant sight,  
And felt the fruits of pleasure at that tide,  
Though it had cost him the losing of his spirit,  
But being fast bound he could not have his mind,  
Till sailing past it was to far behind.   

From top of one of these same mountains hie,  
That in this Island loftily do look,  
A river gusheth down continually,  
That through the valleys here and there do crook,  
Which seemeth pleasant to the sailors ●i●,  
That often covets to enter up the brook,  
Supposing there to find their full delight,  
Of all this gay and gorgeous glistering sight.   

Which river while they pass, on every side,  
Walk Damsels fair with beauty passing brave,  
Amid the Medes with sundry colours died,  
Of flowers fresh that fragrant odours have,  
Whereof fine garlands about their heads are tied,  
These oftentimes with wanton gesture wave  
The passengers, alluring them to land,  
With countenance sweet and beck of pleasant hand.   

Not far from thence upon a stately roche,  
Is placed strong, a sumptuous tower high,  
That doth amaze the minds that near approach,  
With beauty great that glisters in the ●i●,  
The stately wall doth set their heart a brooch,  
And makes them in their course with haste to high,  
Who hoist and hale with all the force they have,  
To run themselves upon this pleasure brave.   

For as the walls do glister all of gold,  
So are the windows all with Crystal glazed,  
Whence looking out the sea men may behold,  
Such sundry shapes as makes them all amazed.  
And makes them curse the time a thousand fold,  
That ever upon such beauty bright they gazed,  
For in the end as many as there do light,  
Tormented are in miserable plight.   

First taken out from out their ships they be,  
And stripped quite from all their own array,  
And blindfeld close, so that they can not see,  
Away from thence these Damsels them convey,  
Unto this pile and tower of soveregntie,  
Which seemed late to them so sweet a play,  
Upon whose gates is written thus in sight,  
The resting place of fleshly fond delight.   

Here are they brought before this sumptuous Queen,  
Who guider is and ruler of this I,  
Who when she hath these wretched ●aytif●s seen,  
At whom with joy she scornfully doth smile,  
With cruel mind and void of mercy clean,  
Condemns them all to pains and torments vile,  
And sundry sentence gives on every one,  
As seemeth best unto herself alone.   

Some are condemned, their eyes set open wide,  
Upon the cold and stony ground to lie,  
With monstrous chames and heavy shakles tied,  
Both day and night to stare continually  
Upon the beauty that is them denied,  
And call for help unto their enemy,  
Who pleasure takes and joyeth at the heart,  
To see their cruel torment and their smart.   

Some others carried forth into the wood,  
With chains are tied and fastened to the trees,  
Their hearts all bare and dropping down with blood,  
Their hands held up and kneeling on their knees,  
Are torn with Kites and Pies and ravens wood,  
That never time from feeding there do lose,  
But gripping still the poor afflicted heart,  
Continually augment their pain and smart.   

Another sort fast in that order tide,  
With torments great and miserable pain,  
Against their hearts a wound made open wide,  
Wherein is thrust the creature almost slain,  
●●te burning coals that ready lie beside,  
Which kindle straight about the heart amain,  
The wound closed up they flame continually,  
And secret burn until the time he die.   

Some sort again by charms enchanted strait,  
forego their shapes, to beasts transformed quite,  
Wherein upon that Queen they still do weight,  
Sometime like Swine, and Asses oft in sight,  
Sometime like Bulls or Bears that dogs do bait,  
Sometime like Lions and Tigers fierce in ●ight,  
Such force ha●● fleshly pleasure in this I,  
To alter those whom she doth thus beguile.   

Yet notwithstanding continually they strive  
The sailors by, who first may come a land,  
With all their sails clapped on apace they drive,  
And have no fear of any shore or sand,  
But while they travail on these seas alive,  
From foul delight they never turn their hand,  
But forward sail with greedy lusting mind,  
Till torments due to their deserts they find.   

Alas how great and worthy a company,  
Have here been lost and clearly cast away,  
Whose wits divine of worthy memory,  
Are talked of yet until this present day,  
Who had escaped each other misery,  
If on this same they had not run astray,  
Their virtues rare had always glistered bright,  
If that they could have shunned this foul delight.   

The mighty Hercules that lived long ago,  
Whose worthy acts deserve immortal fame,  
Who spent his days in anguish and in woe,  
Not bend to pleasure, nor given unto game,  
But following virtue for which he travailed so,  
That still he shunned each thing that longed to shame,  
Can not escape this dreadful dangerous place,  
But lost himself thereon in piteous case.   

The subtle wit and judgement aye profound,  
That painted virtue lively to the eye,  
Who showed the harms and hurts of vice unsound,  
And opened plain the place whereas they lie,  
The self same man that once such favour ●ound,  
Of Delphos that he got the sovereignty,  
For wit and virtue passing every man,  
Upon this I'll yet wretchedly he ran.   

A thousand such in stories old we find,  
Of sundry like our sacred volumes tell,  
That ran amiss upon this fancy blind,  
For lack of good advise and g●iding well,  
Yea though they wholly did apply their mind  
To every virtue, yet on this vice they fell,  
Example he with Uries' wife that lay,  
And eke his son that further ran astray.   

Amongst the dangers of these harmful seas,  
No danger like to this there comes in sight,  
That more doth work the passengers disease,  
Or drives them more to show their force and might,  
Nor no men more the almighty Lord displease,  
Than these that happen on this place to light,  
Wherefore we ought with heed and careful ei●,  
far off from hence with might and main to fly.   

And often weigh the mischief that will rise,  
If that we leave our happy course to keep,  
For vain delight that here ●eludes the eyes,  
And bringeth men in restless rest a sleep,  
Nay rather let us these flattering shows despise,  
And seek to scape this guife of danger deep,  
Which for a little trifling pleasure vain,  
Doth bring us unto everlasting pain.   

Direct thy ship and course another way,  
And still remember how happy they shall be,  
That have not fallen upon this I'll astray,  
Where fleshly joys and foolish fancies be,  
But do● themselves with all their might assay,  
To find the port of true felicity,  
Eschewing every storm and troublesome wind,  
That blows contrary to their virtuous mind.   

And weigh the pains and torments they shall have,  
That give themselves to follow foul delight,  
And break the laws that God to all men gave,  
How they shall wail and howl in piteous plight,  
When that their carcase cometh once to grave,  
Their sinful body severed from their spirit,  
Which spirit shall never feel release of pain,  
As long as God doth in the heavens reign.   

Though that the motions of the flesh be much,  
And though that nature herein bear some sway,  
Yet ought the force of reason to be such  
In man, as well may put such toys away,  
The mind divine must never so basely touch,  
Such things unpure as may be her decay,  
But mount alo●t with wings unto the s●ies,  
Where perfit joy and perfit pleasure lies.   

For earthly joys and fancies are unmeet,  
For such as God appoints with him to live,  
Who ought to abandon all such pleasures sweet,  
As use whereof may them offend or grieve,  
And take good heed whereas they set their feet,  
Not every show, nor every path believe,  
But only walk in that appointed way,  
That God himself before their eyes doth lay.   

And fly the paths, though that they pleasant seem,  
That he hath here forbidden to be trod,  
And cast away all fond affections clean,  
The weight whereof the soul so sore doth load,  
That languishing upon the earth with teen,  
Constrained is it there to make abode,  
And never can aspire unto the sky,  
For heavy weight that doth upon it lie.   

And as Ulysses passing by this place,  
Where Mermaids flock whereof we spoke before,  
Whose sugared songs with sweet and lovely face,  
Did seek to train him to that deadly shore,  
Did give himself with wise and heavenly grac●▪  
For to withstand this l●wd and flattering 〈◊〉,  
Compellde his men to bind him to the 〈◊〉▪  
Whereby with speed this danger great he passed.   

So in these seas of pleasures lest we quail,  
We ought to bind our wills to reason strong,  
As to the Mast that bears our chiefest sail,  
That guides us best throughout this journey long,  
So shall not all these flattering shows prevail,  
So shall we scape this poisoned deadly song,  
That hath bewitched so many virtuous ears,  
And brought them unto torments and to tears.   

But if there do such punishment remain  
For those which while they virtuous seek to be,  
Do fall into this lake of pleasures vain,  
Whereby they come to greatest misery,  
Condemned unto everlasting pain,  
Where ghastly shapes and hellish sights they see,  
Shutout for ever from that beauty bright,  
That far surmounts each other kind of sight.   

If those I say, such torments have to taste,  
What plagues are due unto that sinful sort,  
That both with mind and beastly tongue unchaste,  
Of loathsome vice do make a play and sport,  
And where they ought not spend a word in waste,  
Their shameless mouths wheresoever they do resort,  
Doth utter out the filthiest words they can,  
Without respect of either God or man.   

Contenting not themselves with wretched deeds,  
Alone to pass away their sinful race,  
But with such words as filthily proceeds,  
From out their hearts defiling every place,  
With loathsome show as stinking noisome weeds,  
That freshest flower in gardens doth deface,  
So do these beasts with tongue and talk unclean,  
Defile each thing that fairest may be seen.   

With beastly words that all of bawdry sound,  
These Rascals vile themselves do most delight,  
Corrupting minds that otherwise were sound,  
With speech unpure, and wanton gesture light,  
Wherein they are skil●de as in their art profound,  
Whose ●ongues do teach their vile unsavoury spirit,  
Their shameless tongues while as their acts they tell,  
Doth cause to blush the devil himself in hell.   

Most wretched creatures that lead your lives with shame,  
And die like beasts in miserable plight,  
The pains of hell is end of all your game,  
Each damned soul shall fe●le his torment light,  
While as they lie in never ceasing flame,  
Respecting yours who for your foul delight,  
far pass them all in torments and in pain,  
This is your end and your assured gain.   

Let this suffice to give thee warning here,  
That sailest near this lewd and dangerous place,  
Though that the beauty fair at first appear,  
Thou seest the end how that in wretched case,  
They plagued are and buy their pleasure dear,  
Regard thyself and seek for better grace,  
And stay not gazing, nor venture thou to near,  
It is not good with dangers for to play,  
Leave off betimes and sail another way.   

And take good heed, for strait before thy face▪  
Amid these seas another danger lies,  
That bearing up his head a little space,  
Above the water, oft deceives the eyes,  
Upon the which have died in wretched case,  
A number great of men accounted wise,  
The show is small that doth appear a hi●,  
The chiefest danger doth under water li●.   

The top whereof is smoothly polished,  
And doth not threaten hazard with the show,  
By which have many Mariners been led,  
To travail near the state thereof to know,  
Who with their ships yllfavoredly have sped,  
While as their Keels have touched the rock below.  
And all to torn a pieces forced to fly,  
Their masters sprawling on the surges hie.   

The lustiest Mariners have been drowned hear,  
Whose Barks have borne the bravest port on seas,  
For lusty show and stomachs void of fear,  
While as they sailed which way them best did please,  
Who counsel none, nor no advise would hear,  
For warning good did ever them displease,  
Still trusting to their own deceived wit,  
From whose advise they would not stir a whit.   

Ne cast they here themselves away alone,  
But cause great number more their course to miss,  
Persuading them that near unto this stone,  
Doth lie the way to everlasting bliss,  
Assuring them that danger there is none,  
And that themselves are well assured of this,  
By which vain words they cause the simple men,  
To cast away themselves by following them.   

This dangerous place that hath so many lost  
And thus beguiled, is called Heresy,  
A hurtful place, a most pernicious cost,  
A woeful rock, a wretched jeopardy,  
Which oft hath hurt and quite consumed almost  
The Navy fair of Christianity,  
Which gorgeous fleet had long time since been drow,  
If mighty jove had not them secure sent.   

Who pitying them of his accustomed grace,  
When as they were with storms and tempests tossed,  
And even at point to fall upon this place,  
Where as they had been altogether lost,  
Lamenting as it were their wretched case,  
To see them die that him so dearly cost,  
Rebuked the winds, and took the helm in hand,  
And brought them safe unto the assured land.   

A happy guide in these so dreadful seas,  
Whose blessed aid if all men carst had sought,  
With humble mind in seeking him to please,  
And setting all their own devise at nought,  
They had not purchased thus their own disease,  
Nor wretchedly themselves to mischief brought,  
Ne had they left behind them such a fame,  
As hitherto the world resound with shame.   

Cherinthus had not cast himself away,  
Upon this rock in miserable plight,  
Nor Eutyches had passed this wretched way,  
If serving God had been his chief delight,  
Nonatus had not sailed here astray,  
Nectorius had not on this mischief light,  
Nor Arrius with his Arrians here had died,  
Nor all the swarm of Manicheys beside.   

With thousands more that here I loath to name,  
Who might have scaped this dreadful place full well,  
That brought them unto everlasting shame,  
And threw them headlong to the pit of hell,  
Whereas they wail in never ceasing flame,  
And for their sins continually do yell,  
If that they had sought this safe assured aid,  
And unto him for help had always prayed.   

Take thou good heed that travailest hereby,  
Lest that thou fallest upon this hurtful place,  
Beware of schism, beware of heresy,  
And pray to God continually for grace,  
That he may keep thee from this misery,  
And bring thee safe unto the resting place,  
In giving thee a quick and watchful eye,  
Whereby thou mayst such covert dangers fly.   

Look well about and trust not every spirit,  
That seems to teach the safe assured way,  
Be well assured he teach the way aright,  
Or walk not thou else after him astray,  
The devil himself can seem an angel bright,  
The simple soul the earlier to betray,  
But Christ hath left you here his scriptures plain,  
A touchstone true to try religion vain.   

By these examine every prating spirit,  
By these go try what unto thee is taught,  
Let these be judge who teacheth wrong or right,  
Let these discern the good things from the nought,  
Of these in darkness borrow all the light,  
Of these still let thy wavering mind be taught,  
So shalt thou well be able thyself to try,  
Where shadows false, and where deceit doth lie.   

Believe not those same slanderous mouths untrue,  
Who make report how that the books divine,  
Corrupted are with false translations new,  
Of only malice these enuions beasts repine,  
They see the spirit of God will them subdue,  
That in these sacred letters bright doth shine,  
And therefore for to bring them in contempt,  
These slanderous lies maliciously they invent.   

As he that late such needless pains did take,  
In culling out the faults he could espy,  
Of every tittell strait account doth make,  
In noting where he thinks they run awry,  
And as he thought profoundly thereof spoke,  
But if thou shalt his worthy judgement try,  
Thou well shalt see his fond and foolish brain  
Hath taken all his travail here in vain.   

Beside, another mark there is to know  
These wretched spirits that leads men thus to hell,  
Though clad in pelts of sheep they simple show,  
And many tales of God and heaven tell,  
Yet malice doth their minds so overflow,  
That all things can they not dissemble well,  
Their bloody teeth doth still appear in sight,  
Wherewith like wolves continually they fight.   

Example one amongst a number more  
Let Arrius be, who whilst he here did reign,  
Of torments great and tortures had in store,  
Wherewith he put true Christians still to pain,  
With sundry deaths not heard off oft before,  
And griefs that newly sprang from cruel brain,  
As splintars sharp of reeds which sore did prick,  
That in their fingers twixt nail and flesh did stick.   

That devilish mind that reigneth now in hell,  
Doth still envy the happy state of man,  
And since the time that first to earth he fell,  
Doth labour still by all the means he can,  
To cause them all in pains with him to dwell,  
Whose cursed children as their sire began,  
Continue still with rancour and with heat,  
To persecute that happy heavenly seat,   

Chrysostom he that long ago hath tried  
These brittle seas and searched every place,  
Who had good proof of every wind and tide,  
And well could sail to find the port of grace,  
Declared which way these people might be spied,  
That thus deceive in miserable case,  
And gave plain token how we well should know  
These Barks of schism that on these seas do row.   

Did ever yet, saith he, the simple sheep  
With bloody mouth the greedy wolf pursue?  
Not once: But ravening wolves do never sleep  
From hunting them. So Cain poor Abel slew,  
Not Abel him, so Ishmael Isaac true  
Did persecute, not Isaac him. The jew  
Thus troubled Christ, and heretics always  
True Christians killde, their fruits doth them bewray.   

Thus plainly doth this skilful father old  
Conclude, that such as bear such hateful mind,  
Against the flock, and happy harmless fold  
Of Christ, still following them with malice blind.  
To be the Wolves, of whom our Saviour told,  
And heretics of most pernicious kind,  
The Wolf by ravening evermore is tried,  
The Heretic by cruel mind is spied.   

Then since thou mayst full well discern this ill,  
Sail far from thence and steer advisedly,  
And guide thyself by good and careful skill,  
So shalt thou miss this fearful jeopardy,  
Give not the reins nor bridle unto will,  
But make it subject to the motions hie,  
So shalt thou save thyself from danger great,  
And sooner find the happy resting seat.   

Yet once again thou needest to take good heed,  
For here abouts an Island fair doth lie,  
That to the sailors mischief great doth breed,  
That flames far off like Phoebus in the sky,  
Which glistering sight the gazers' mind doth feed,  
And doth allure them for to travail nigh,  
Persuading them some worthy sight is there,  
That so encompassed is with shining clear.   

In every place here Pyramids do rise,  
With costly stones compact of gorgeous show,  
Whose stately tops do seem to touch the skies,  
The bases square are framed fair below,  
With such proportions as pleaseth best the eyes,  
In order placed, and standing row by row,  
adorned brave with torches flaming bright,  
That seem to spoil the day itself of light.   

A thousand altars garnished here do stand,  
With cloth of gold and Purple passing fair,  
And fires burning high on ●u●rie hand,  
Where Incense cast doth cause a pleasant air,  
Which smelling sweet a great way from the land,  
Doth cause a number thither to repair,  
On every altar Images appear,  
Of sundry Gods that people worship there.   

There Saturn stands with envious countenance sad,  
And next to him hath Jupiter his place,  
And Venus smiling fair with beauty glad,  
And fuming Mars with hot and fiery face,  
Apollo there with glistering beams is clad,  
And Diana with her silver shining grace,  
Swift Mercury amongst them here doth stand,  
With flickering wings and golden red in hand.   

Great Bacchus here is placed with majesty,  
And near to him Dame Ceres may be seen,  
And Proserpina that low beneath doth lie,  
And Juno once of heaven counted Queen,  
And Berecynthya mother of the sky,  
With Flora clad in lusty youthful green,  
Here Castor joined with Pollux fair doth stand,  
And Esculapius with his snakes in hand.   

On other altars joining thereto near,  
A number great of pictures placed be,  
That monstrous to the lookers on appear,  
As one that portrayed is with faces three,  
An other killing dragons with a spear,  
Another holding in his hand a tree,  
And wading over rivers easily,  
With monstrous legs and shoulders shameful his.   

But most of all that makes men there to muse,  
There stands a saint in strange disguised sort,  
To take it for a man or woman you may choose,  
For of them both it seems to bear a port,  
Arrayed in gowns as women most do use,  
A lettuce ca● it wears and beard not short,  
And thus disguised in strange and mas●●ng Cotes,  
Esteems no other offering here than Oats.   

A number great of such strange pictures vain,  
Here mayst thou see, of whom I list not tell,  
That unto Priests have always been a gain,  
And led such as them worshipped unto hell,  
The Meschyts here of Mahomet remain,  
And all his saints to whom the Turk doth yell,  
As Uanus and Sedichasis, that victory doth bring,  
With Mircschinus and Ascichum & Chidirell the king.   

Before each Image stand Tapers burning bright,  
And odours sweets do fume continually,  
The people kneeling round about in sight,  
With hands held up and voices loud do cry,  
Each one complaining of his wretched plight,  
And seeking there redress of misery.  
Do call upon their gods with fervent mind,  
Supposing thus a perfit help to find.   

This dangerous place is called Idolatry,  
Whereon are lost the Turks and Pagans all,  
That hither fast in monstrous flocks do fly,  
Not fearing mischief that may them befall,  
And numbers great of Christians here do die,  
That leaving Christ on Idols fast do call,  
With great despite unto the almighty king,  
That this detests above all other thing.   

For nothing doth so much the mind offend,  
Of that most sacred majesty divine,  
Nor nothing makes him more his plagues to send,  
Than when he sees his servants to decline  
From serving him to seek another friend,  
And setting up an Idol in his shrine,  
This more doth him displease assuredly,  
Than any whoredom, theft or robbery.   

Him liketh to be worshipped alone,  
With earnest mind and with unfeigned heart,  
Who worships him must worship others none,  
It is not meet for any to give part,  
Of honour due to him, unto a stone,  
For who so doth is like in the end to smart,  
In feeling pains and torments to them due,  
That worship false and feigned Gods untrue,   

This only cause did make him oft forsake  
His chosen flock the ancient Israelites,  
Who though with mouth he often to them spoke,  
Appointing to them sacred laws and rites,  
Yet evermore his ordinances they broke,  
And worshipped sundry false and lying spirits,  
In every grove, on every wood and hill,  
They Idols placed contrary to his will.   

For which he often gave them over quite,  
Into the hands of cruel enemies,  
Who dealt with them in miserable plight,  
Still vexing them with terror and with tyrannies,  
Of each man used with foul and great despite,  
Compelled to suffer thousand kinds of cruelties,  
Accounted slaves and abjects clearly lost,  
That erst of all men were esteemed most.   

For this poor Christians often times have felt,  
The usage vile, and force of Turkish hands,  
That many years have lowly with them dealt,  
Depriving them of children, wife and lands,  
Since first the service of Idols out they smelled,  
Which brought them to captivity and bands,  
Decayed their virtues, and lost their ancient fame,  
And made them to the world an open shame.   

Therefore beware, and shun this filthy place,  
Let Paul thy Pilot be upon these seas,  
Who saith idolaters shall never see the face  
Of God, nor find the joyful port of ease,  
For Idol servers are quite deprived of grace,  
And by no means the almighty Lord can please,  
Such kind of servants only he desires,  
As seek to serve him as himself requires.   

All other service he esteemeth as vain,  
And most he hates such fond religion blind,  
As is devised by dream of foolish brain,  
That worship only doth delight his mind,  
That he himself hath taught in scriptures plain,  
To this his servants doth he straightly bind,  
He suffers them to honour this or that,  
But plainly hath himself appointed what.   

Serve thou him therefore as he liketh best,  
With all thy heart, with all thy mind him love,  
Let him be hi●st always in thy breast,  
Take heed that none be placed him above,  
Esteem no creature so above the rest,  
That love thereof shall him from thee remove,  
For that beside is foul Idolatry,  
To love a worldly thing excessiuclie.   

Not only Imageseruers have the name,  
Of blind idolaters, but every such▪  
That inwardly with fervent love doth flame,  
Esteeming fading fancies here to much,  
Preferring them before all fear or shame,  
As those whose minds the love of God doth teach,  
Or beauty fair of s●me excelling dame,  
These kind of loves when in the heart they lie,  
Are foulest kinds of vile Idolatry.   

far of from this see therefore that thou fly,  
If that thou meanest the haven fair to find,  
For who so toucheth on this same shall die,  
In sugaring shipwreck through his folly blind,  
Refuse this course, and sail forth happily,  
Keep well the woeful haven still in mind,  
Whose pleasures great shall fully thee reward,  
For all thy pains and all thy travails hard.   

Another danger lies there in thy way,  
That seemeth good and safe unto the eye,  
Whereat a number great of ships do stay,  
That here are lost or put in jeopardy,  
With colour false of good it doth betray,  
And cloaked fair doth cause men travail buy,  
And most allures such men as seek for fame,  
Hypocrisy this mischief hath to name.   

A rock but soft and simple to the eye,  
That pleaseth much the mind of worldly sight,  
Whereas disce●te doth closely covered lie,  
Which hindereth men from travailing aright,  
The place is large and riseth some thing high,  
Upon the top whereof in open sight,  
There stands an Image covered all of stone,  
That there was placed many years agone.   

Which Image here I would describe to thee,  
But that long since it hath been painted plain  
By learned Chaucer that gem of Poetry,  
Who passed the reach of any English brain,  
A folly therefore were it here for me,  
To touch that he with pencil once did stain,  
Take here therefore what he thereof doth say,  
Writ in the Romance of his Roses gay.   

¶ Another thing was done their write,  
That seemed like an Hypocrite,  
And it was cleped Pope holy,  
That ill is she that privily,  
Ne spareth never a wicked deed,  
When men of her taken none heed,  
And maketh her outward precious,  
With pale visage and piteous.  
And seemeth a simple creature,   

But there nis no misadventure,  
That she ne thinketh in her courage,  
Full like to her was thilk Image,  
That maked was bit her semblance,  
She was full simple of countenance,  
And she was clothed and ●ke shod,  
As she were for the love of God,  
Youlden to religion,  
Such seemed her devotion,  
A Psalter held she fast in hand,  
And busily she 'gan to fond,  
To make many a faint prayer  
To God and to his saints dear,  
Ne she was gay, fresh nor iolliffe,  
But seemed to be full intentiffe  
To good works and to fair,  
And thereto she had on a hair,  
Ne certes she was fat nothing,  
But seemed weary for fasting,  
Of colour pale and dead was she,  
From her the gates aye warned be,  
Of paradise the blissful place,  
For such folk maken lean their grace,  
As Christ saith in his Euangile,  
To get their price in town a while,  
And for a little glory vain,  
They lesen God and ●ke his reign.   

Thus hath the golden pen of Chaucer old,  
The Image plain descrived to the cie,  
Who passing by long since did it heholde,  
And took a note thereof advisedly,  
Unto his fellows of that age it told,  
And left it ●ke for his posterity,  
That each man passing by might plainly know,  
The perfit substance of that flattering show.   

An enemy great unto the Christian fleet,  
Is this foul rock of false Hypocrisy,  
That us depriveth of the pleasure sweet.  
And brings our souls to greatest misery,  
A loathsome vice, a wretched crime unmeet  
For men professing Christi●nitie,  
Eschew it then and far off from it fly▪  
Let not such blind affections blear thy e●e.   

Seek rather good to be, than good to s●●me,  
Seek so to live as thou dost here profess,  
So shall both God and man thee best esteem,  
So shalt thou perfect Christian life express,  
What good doth it when m●n thee godly deem,  
And thou thyself art full of wickedness,  
Although thou mayst dissemble for a while,  
Yet canst thou not no long time God beguile.   

His eye doth still discern thy inward thought,  
Thy secret dealings well he doth behold,  
And all thy deeds in hucker mucker wrought,  
At length before the world he shall unfold,  
To what a misery shalt thou then be brought,  
When all thy fault shall openly be told,  
When all thy filthy vices there shall smoke,  
That here were hidden under godly cloak?   

Christ hath us taught for to abhor this crime,  
When as he cursed the Scribes and Pha●isies,  
Who seemed the godliest livers at that time,  
All garnished outward with Hypocrisies,  
As though they daily ●●aff● by s●affe did climb,  
By godly life unto the haughty skies,  
Whereas their hearts were full of hellish spirits,  
And they themselves most cursed Hypocrites.   

O what a number at this present day,  
Do swarm in every town, in every place,  
That God be thanked, and God be praised can say.  
With gesture mild and feyved godly grace,  
Who crouching low before men fast can pray,  
As if that God himself should stand in place,  
And yet for all this show for a●l this goodly gear,  
deceitful knaves at length they do appear.   

Beguiling men that put in them their trust,  
Oppressing poor men by strange and sundry way●●  
Without all conscience, in word nor deed found just,  
Yet would they seem as though they God did praise▪  
In serving him according to his lust,  
Where as in deed these cursed castaways,  
Do never worship any God in mind,  
But always serve their own affections blind.   

O sinful beasts what mean you thus to deal,  
Thus covertly before the face of God,  
Be well assured you can not long conceal,  
Be well assured you can not sca●e his rod,  
Your wretched deeds in time he shall reveal,  
Your sinful life shall once be blazed abroad,  
Your mas●ing garments that you so long have worn,  
Shall all be r●nt, and from your shoulders torn.   

Your painted vizard shall be plucked away,  
Wherewith so many here you did deceive,  
And all your curious counterfeit array,  
You shallbe forced against your will to leave,  
The Purple garments wherein you long did play,  
By which your honour here you did receive,  
Shall off be plucked, and all things else beside,  
And then the bare arsed Ape shall plain be spied.   

sail thou not near this wretched cursed place,  
That seekest the happy haven for to find,  
Cry out to God and call for better grace,  
Commit thy sails unto a better wind,  
Eschew the look of false dissembling face,  
Use virtue always with unfeigned mind,  
So shalt thou sooner find the port of bliss,  
That cursed Hypocrites assuredly shall miss.   

Now veer thy sheets, hale up thy Mainsayle high,  
Advance thy tops, hang out thy flags abroad,  
The greatest danger hast thou travailed by,  
And near thou art unto the happy road,  
The other perils that in the way do lie▪  
May well be passed, and well be overtrod,  
For none do perish hear in any place,  
But such as are both void of wit and grace.   

Cast fear away, and take a lusti● heart,  
Revive thy spirits with gladness and with joy,  
Cheer up thy mind, and comfort every part,  
Remove each grief that may thy sense annoy,  
For near unto the haven now thou art,  
Where pleasure dwells and everlasting joy,  
Whereas thou shalt the almighty father see,  
The spring and head of all felicity.   

Although these dangers that hereabout do lie,  
Do never hurt the godly careful mind,  
Yet for their safeties that here shall travail buy,  
I briefly will declare their names and kind,  
That sooner so they may such mischifefes fly,  
Not running rashly on th●s● mischiefs blind,  
But keeping still the safe assured seas,  
They sooner may find out the port of ease,   

The first and worst of these same dangers great,  
Is blasphemy, a foul and filthy crime,  
Which barketh still against the heavenly seat,  
And most offends the majesty divine,  
With fearful oaths sworn out in fury great,  
Of Reprobates the most assured sign,  
The damned spirits continually do swear,  
Without respect of any godly fear.   

Next this hath carlish cruelty the place,  
A mischief that doth hellish minds assail,  
With loathsome look and foul and deadly face,  
Whereon a number great of ships do quail,  
That wanting gentle winds and void of grace,  
To near this dreadful danger hastily sail,  
Whereas they lose themselves in wretched plight,  
And never find the blissful haven bright.   

Then hatred shows his hurtful head aloft,  
A hateful harm, and hurtful unto many,  
Which overthroweth the suttie sailor oft▪  
And drowneth deep the spiteful company▪  
Who while they deem the bed of malice soft,  
Do rest themselves upon this misery,  
Brought here a sleep with fond malicious mind,  
They never seek the haven fair to find.   

Here Murder all imbrued with blond doth stand,  
That gives unto the eye a fearful sight,  
On top whereof wi●h shaking sword in hand,  
Is Fury placed, a foul deformed spirit,  
Who suffers none to attain the happy land.  
That once upon this mischief haps to light,  
The Fiend himself that guides the damned reign,  
First found this place and hither brings his train.   

Hereby stands theft a foul and foolish ill,  
That doth allure the greedy graceless mind,  
Trained up from youth in witless wretched will,  
And robbery, sister to this vice by kind,  
May here be seen about her swarming still,  
These justice bloods that here will sooner find  
A pound, than lose a penny willingly,  
Who riding here at oaken ancour lie.   

Not far from thence stands sinful sorcery,  
A mischief founded by the devil first,  
With charms enchantments and astrology,  
The practisers whereof are all accursed,  
And joined with this, stands infidelity  
Together linked as of all other worst,  
The one thinks all things by the stars are done,  
The other that all at random here doth run.   

To this apace our learned masters hie,  
That teach us what shall happen year by year,  
And what sore plagues are threatened from the sky,  
As famine, wars and other piteous gear,  
Great learned Clarks and such as seldom lie,  
As by their worthy doings doth appear,  
Who feign would be esteemed cunning men,  
While as they steal the fruits of others pen.   

Now last of all two dangers great appear,  
Between the which thou canst not choose but run,  
Therefore thou must look circumspectly here,  
As other sailors heretofore have done,  
Sayie just between them both, sayie not to near  
To any of them, for strong the tide doth run,  
And often drives the herdlesse Earkes thereon,  
That in the middle safely might have gone.   

The one of them with lofty look doth rise,  
And seems to touch the place where saints do dwell,  
All black the other lies before the eyes,  
The plateforme plain and Image right of hell,  
There shalt thou hear continual shrieks and cries  
Of damned souls that pitcously do yell,  
And loathsome shows and shapes doth eke appear,  
Of cursed spirits that hover here and there.   

Presumption hath the one of these to name,  
That makes men like their doings here to well,  
The other Desperation full of blame,  
That throws men headlong to the pit of hell,  
To mischiefs great that man's destruction frame,  
And makes men low with damned spirits to dwell,  
These are the hurts that in these seas do lie,  
Regard them well and warily from them fly.   

Remaineth nothing for thee now behind,  
But gracious marks that lead the sailor right,  
That comforts much the godly virtuous mind,  
And teacheth them to find the port of light,  
Pass thou by these, so shalt thou surely find,  
The chiefest succour for the weary spirit,  
For who so runs by these shall never miss,  
The haven fair of everlasting bliss.   

The foremost of these sure and happy guides,  
Is earnest Prayer that gives a goodly show,  
And keepeth safe the Bark from troubious tides,  
That moved with helitsh tides contrary flow,  
In safety here the wandering vessel rides,  
Whatsoever hap, what wind soever blow,  
Though devil, world, and flesh against it strive,  
Yet under sail it safely here may drive.   

A thousand happy hands may here be seen,  
Held up with heart unfeigned unto the skies,  
Washed in the waters of repentance clean,  
And purged pure with tears of weeping eyes,  
A thousand tongues from minds that well do mean,  
Yield up to God their fervent suits and cries,  
At morning, noon and night continually,  
Here shalt thou see them on their faces lie.   

The next is Peace, a quiet happy place,  
Where as no strife nor rancour can be found,  
Rest thou thy Bark within this road of grace,  
And travail for to touch upon this ground,  
They always come to good that run this race,  
Thou needest not here for fear of danger sound,  
For those that here most peaceably remain,  
Have daily traffic with the heavenly reign.   

Hereby doth Love another beauty stand,  
That brings thee straight unto the road of rest,  
And pointeth out directly with her hand,  
The perfit way by which thou mayst be blessed,  
No harmful Boat may ever here take land,  
But only those that please the almighty best,  
And seek to sail according to his will,  
This Love doth all the hests of God fulfil.   

Next Mercy stands, a goodly mark and plain,  
That leadeth straight unto the blissful port,  
And is possessed of the heavenly train,  
And most frequented of the virtuous sort,  
Who do not think the words were spoken in vain,  
Wherewith our Saviour did the Jews exhort,  
Assuring those that mercy showed to men,  
That mercy should be showed again to them.   

Not far from hence may Patience plain be seen,  
The Bulwark strong against all injury,  
The sovereign Lady and most victorious Queen,  
In trouble, toils and worldly misery,  
Which evermore assuredly hath been  
The Buttress chief of Christianity,  
By which the souls of virtuous men have sailed,  
That never yet in storm or tempest quailed.   

Here lively Faith may well discerned be,  
The channel safe that leads to heavenly bliss,  
Whereby the Father's old attained to see,  
The haven fair and port of perfit bliss,  
This made the Martyr's flame in such degree,  
That life they weighed not in respect of this,  
By which they knew assuredly to find,  
The blissful place conceived in their mind.   

These are the marks whereto thou must take heed,  
By these thou mayest thyself in voyage guide,  
If that thou seekest luckily to speed,  
To pass the flats and scape the raging tide,  
Upon this course have Mariners agreed,  
That long time since these seas have fully tried,  
No other way they here have left behind,  
Whereby we may the happy haven find.   

sail therefore as the perfit course doth lie,  
And run the race that is to thee assigned,  
For who so runneth otherwise awry,  
The haven fair of bliss shall never find,  
But drowned in seas for evermore shall die,  
With torments great and death of dreadful kind,  
Where they that keep the course that Christ hath taught  
Shall unto everlasting joys be brought.   

Here would I plain set out before thine eyes,  
This happy place, wherein thy Bark shall rest,  
What show it hath, and in what sort it lies,  
But that it can by no man be expressed,  
That place of joy above the starry skies,  
Appointed only for the godly and blessed,  
By any wit can not be thoroughly scanned,  
Ne can be blazed by any mortal hand.   

The joys are such as cannot here be told,  
No pen can paint, nor tongue can tell the kind,  
The gorgeous sight that saints shall here behold,  
Surmounts the reach of any earthly mind,  
And passeth aye a hundredth thousand fold,  
The sweetest pleasures that in this world we find,  
No eye hath seen, no ear hath ever hard,  
The joys that are for godly men prepared.   

Apply thy mind to seek this happy place,  
Put all thy strength and all thy force thereto,  
Call unto God continually for grace,  
As Christ hath taught, seek always for to do,  
Set always him and his before thy face,  
So shalt thou come the blessed haven to,  
So thou thyself with eyes shalt plainly see,  
What joy, what pleasures there prepared be.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   

The death of S. Polycarpus Bishop of Smyrna, and disciple to saint john. Euseb. lib. 4.  

WHen fierce Allecto moved the minds  
of graceless wicked men,  
To persecute the sacred Church  
of Christ beginning then,  
And all the furies breaking lose  
from hell with cankered spite,  
Did seek by all the means they could,  
to quench that heavenly light,  
The poor afflicted Christian flock  
was spoiled on every side,  
And every wolvish tongue and tooth,  
in blood of saints was died.  
Each virtuous man tormented was,  
and godly men were slain,  
And havoc made of holy hearts,  
with hatred and disdain,  
The worthy father Polycarp,  
a man of ancient years,  
With aged countenance beautified,  
and decked with silver hears,  
Was sought for now and followed fast  
with foot of cruel foe,  
No place of safeguard left for him,  
nor path of peace to go,  
In every place was watch and ward,  
and spials out were sent,  
By bloody suit to overthrow  
and trap the innocent,  
But he not moved with all this rage,  
In quiet doth remain,  
Accounting life and pleasures lost,  
for Christ his chiefest gain,  
Yet following counsel of his friends,  
unto a secret place,  
He doth departed, and quietly  
remaining there a space,  
With humble heart doth call to God,  
and prayeth continually,  
For christian Church, his friends and such  
as live in misery,  
For thus he used evermore  
throughout all his life to pray,  
Continuing with his godly friends,  
in prayer night and day.  
Thus three days hole in prayer past,  
he takes at length his rest,  
And whilst upon his bed he lies,  
with quiet sleep possessed,  
Him seemeth in his dream he sees  
the Pillow all on flame,  
That round about encompasseth  
his head upon the same,  
Which blazing round about the bed  
with fiery countenance bright,  
In little time as thought him then,  
consumes the Bolster quite,  
Awaking from this fearful dream,  
He lifteth up his head,  
Declareth that this vision strange  
of fiery flaming bed,  
Doth plainly show that shortly he  
must lose his life in fire,  
And leave his aged limbs in flame,  
for Christ his chief desire,  
Yet once again at friend's request,  
from thence he flies away,  
In seeking out some covert place,  
the safer for to pray,  
Yet ceaseth not the tyrant's foot  
for to pursue him still,  
But ransa king in every place,  
the guiltless blood to spill,  
Finds out at length the happy house  
wherein this father good,  
Had entered for to scape the hands  
of Satan's cursed brood,  
The day was almost at an end  
and sun declining fast,  
Upon the foaming Ocean seas,  
his eyes began to cast,  
When as the cursed Catchpolles' found  
this sacred secret place,  
They make no more, but up they hie,  
with swift and hasty pace.  
A Garret was there placed aloft,  
where as this virtuous man,  
Lay quietly upon his bed,  
not fearing danger than,  
The aged father riseth up  
and meets his enemies,  
With countance comely to behold,  
in sweet and pleasant guise,  
Whereat the messengers amazed  
do wonder very much,  
That such a worthy father old,  
of grace and goodness such,  
Should thus be sought for in this sort  
by cruel tyranny,  
And well deserving long to live,  
should thus untimely die.  
His youth in virtue always spent,  
his age in honour led,  
Deserved with better quietness,  
to rest his hoary head,  
But he not weighing force of man,  
nor cruel enemy,  
Embracing tokens true of death,  
determineth to die.  
Such was his love to Christ his Lord,  
that through this vale of strife,  
By death he rather follows him,  
than him forsakes for life.  
No torment of the tyrant's hand,  
nor fear of cruel smart,  
Can once amaze his virtuous mind,  
nor daunt his sacred heart,  
He wills them strait to lay the board,  
and for to bring him meat,  
And to his foes as to his friends,  
Appointeth ghestly seat,  
Desiring them but liberty  
to pray an hours space,  
Which once obtained he falleth down,  
and groveling on his face,  
In such a comely sort he prays,  
that all that present stood,  
amazed were, and even those  
that sought to shed his blood,  
To take him there repent much,  
that they had travailed so,  
In hunting for so good a man,  
of force commanded tho,  
They soried much that they should take  
and bring to cruel pain  
Do sweet a servant of the Lords,  
so virtuous and so plain,  
His prayer fully finished then,  
His tine was now at hand,  
Upon an also they hoist him up,  
and compassed with their band,  
They lead him toward the city straight,  
upon the Sabbath day.  
Thus in his journey travailing,  
there meets him on the way,  
One Herode that Lieutenant was,  
Nicetas eke with him,  
That father of this Herod was,  
and causing him come in,  
Unto the chariot where they sat,  
still passing on their way,  
They him persuade to cast off Christ,  
and on this sort they say,  
What hurt or peril can it be,  
what ill can thus arise,  
In calling of the Emperor God,  
and offering sacrifice.  
Lo this is all that thou shalt do,  
what matter great is this?  
What fault can herewithal be found,  
what thing is here amiss?  
By doing thus thou savest thy life,  
and all thy friends shalt please,  
And spend thy aged years in rest,  
and pass thy time in ease.  
These words with silence first he heard,  
and as they yet proceed,  
What needs more words than these, saith he,  
I will not do this deed,  
Ne will I call your Emperor God,  
nor offer sacrifice,  
In vain you me dissuade, my mind  
is settled otherwise.  
Offended with this answer much,  
they both began to frown,  
And with despite from out the Coach  
they threw him headlong down,  
The fall did hurt him very sore,  
but nothing him dismay,  
For cheerfully as void of hurt,  
he holdeth on his way  
Unto the place where he should die,  
beset on every hand,  
With swarms and throng of people rude,  
that gazing on him stand,  
Whereto as soon as he was come,  
this voice from heaven fell,  
Be of good comfort Polycarpe  
and keep thy conscience well.  
No kind of thing could there be seen,  
yet many heard the voice  
That loving him and fearing God  
did much thereat rejoice,  
The beastly people raised at him  
when as he came in sight,  
And blasphemed God, defacing him  
with words of great despite.  
Thus brought among these greedy wolves  
the simple sheep doth stand,  
The Judge commanding silence straight,  
with lifting up his hand,  
Demands if that be he that Polycarpus  
hath to name,  
Whereto he boldly answers him,  
I am the very same.  
Then of thyself have some regard,  
good father old, saith he,  
And have respect unto thy years  
and to thine own degree.  
Thy reverent age deserves good luck  
cast not thyself away,  
But worship thou the Emperor  
and wish him well aiway,  
And cry away with all such beasts  
as do no God regard,  
Then turning to the people straight,  
and willing to be hard,  
Old Polycarpe with frowning look  
and hand held up to skies,  
Cries out amain away with such  
as God do here despise,  
The Ruler speaking still and seying,  
love Cesar with thy heart,  
And blaspheme Christ, then shalt thou at  
thy pleasure hence departed.  
I have, saith Polycarpus, served  
Christ fourscore years and more,  
And unto me in all this space,  
he did no hurt wherefore  
Should I then him blaspheme that hath  
been all this while my friend,  
Whose blessed aid from every harm,  
did always me defend,  
I can not serve him in such sort,  
that hath so friendly dealt  
With me through all my life, by whom  
I have such goodness felt,  
I am a Christian I confess,  
a Christian will I die,  
Come pain or joy, come death or life,  
I will it not deny,  
And if thou seekest the happy state,  
of Christians for to know,  
Their whole belief, and virtuous sect,  
I plainly will thee show,  
Whensoever thou shalt appoint the time.  
Nay saith the Judge, declare  
Before the people present here,  
in all things how they far,  
Quoth he, I have thee answered full,  
in scriptures are we taught,  
To give you Rulers honour such,  
as unto you we ought,  
We worship Princes evermore,  
as God's Lieutenants here,  
And them obey, so that they bid  
not things repugnant clear  
Against the laws of God himself,  
but for to come taccount,  
Before these raging people rude,  
whose madness doth surmount,  
Their senseless wits, it is no part  
of mine I you assure,  
Nor never will I do it wh●●st  
my life doth here endure.  
Wild beasts here have I quoth the Shrife,  
whereto thou shalt be cast,  
Then let them lose saith he, my words  
shall stand as they have passed,  
I can not change from good to evil,  
more meet this sinful brood,  
Should leave their lewd and beastly life,  
and change from evil to good.  
Well quoth the Shrife offended much  
and boiling all in ire,  
Though thou regardst not force of beasts,  
thou shalt be burnt with fire,  
Thy aged bones and werish lunmes,  
consumed to coals shall be,  
And life (the fruit of thy contempt)  
shall pass in flame from thee.  
Thou threatenest me (quoth he again)  
with feeble fire and vain,  
Which as it quickly kindleth here,  
so quickly dies again,  
Not knowing of the dreadful flames  
that burn continually,  
Prepared for the wicked sort,  
that here in sin do die.  
But wherefore seemest thou thus to stay?  
put beasts or fire to me,  
With torments I nor fearful sights  
can never moved be.  
These words and other like to these  
him Polycarpus told,  
With joyful look. The Shrife amazed,  
to hear his answers bold,  
A bailie to the people sent,  
and wills him to proclaim  
That Polycarpe had thrice confessed  
himself a Christian plain.  
Which when the multitude had heard  
of Jews and Gentiles vain,  
That present were with fury great,  
thus cry they out amain,  
Lo this is he that doth seduce  
all Asia round about,  
The father and the chiefest guide,  
of all the Christian rout,  
The great defacer of our Gods,  
who teacheth not to make  
Nor offer sacrifice, but Gods  
and goodness to forsake.  
This said, they cry for fire straight,  
and here and there they run,  
And each man busieth much himself,  
to see the slaughter done,  
And woad from every place they bring,  
and reeds in order lay,  
And pile up faggots fast thereon,  
with all the hast they may,  
And thus the stake is straight prepared,  
the father brought thereto,  
With willing mind and joyful heart,  
his garments doth undo,  
And stripes himself into his shirt,  
while as the standers by,  
Do drive in staples to the stake,  
the safer him to tie,  
These chains, quoth he, are needless here  
for he that me doth make  
To abide the fire, shall give me grace  
to stand untied at stake,  
Wherewith they let the chains alone,  
and tie him slenderly.  
With little Hempen cords that were  
prepared speedily.  
Thus like a Ram drawn from the flock  
for sacrifice he stands,  
And to the heavens casting up  
his eyes and holy hands,  
These words with fervent mind he spoke,  
O God of power divine,  
That Father art of Jesus Christ,  
by which dear son of thine,  
Of thee the knowledge we attain  
thou Lord of Angels all,  
Of powers and strengths & every wight,  
that unto thee do call,  
The only God of righteous men,  
to thee great thanks I give  
That thus thou hast permitted me,  
until this day to live,  
Whereby of Christ thy only son,  
I shall a witness be  
With whom I trust, and thorough him,  
thy blessed face to see,  
The chiefest comfort of my soul,  
and longing of my spirit,  
Wherein each poor afflicted heart,  
doth set his whole delight,  
A pleasing sacrifice I trust,  
I shallbe unto thee,  
That doth respect the loving heart  
and mind of each degree,  
My soul through flames to thee I yield  
that art my only light,  
Receive it Lord and grant it rest,  
before thy sacred spirit,  
Even as thou hast appointed, and  
determined long ago,  
Each thing thou hast performed here,  
and all things ordered so,  
O God thou righteous art and just,  
deceit is none with thee,  
Therefore I render thanks and praise,  
unto thy majesty,  
Through Jesus Christ the eternal God,  
thy dear and only son,  
Whose presence here to judge the world,  
I trust shall shortly come.  
To whom with thee and the holy spirit,  
be praise both now and then,  
And laud and glory yielded up,  
for evermore. Amen.  
No sooner had he done but that  
These wretches void of grace,  
Thrust fire in on every side,  
and kindling it apace,  
The flame a fit begins to mount,  
and threats the haughty skies,  
With crooked compass to enclose,  
the martyr standing there,  
Whose body seemed to give the show  
of gold in furnace clear,  
From whence beside there round about  
a pleasant odor past.  
As if some Baume or Frankincense,  
had been in fire cast,  
The sinful sort perceiving thus,  
the body to remain  
Untouched of fire, and that their toil  
and travail was in vain,  
Do strait command the hangman with  
his sword to thrust him in,  
Wherewith the blood with purple streams  
apace gins to spin,  
And gusheth out so fast abroad,  
that even the raging flame  
In divers places of the pile  
was quenched with the same,  
The people all amazed, depart,  
the corpse neglected lies,  
The soul rejoicing at this day,  
unto the heaven flies.    

A Priest of Apollo strangely converted. Euseb. lib. 4.  

Upon the Alps those stately mountains hie,  
Sometime there stood a gorgeous temple fair,  
Whereto the people used commonly  
To hear the doom of Phoebus to repair,  
Wherein there lived a Priest of passing fame,  
Who used to keep the altars trim and fine,  
And well could cast the sacrifice in flame,  
And order all things in their course and time,  
It chanced that here passed by this way,  
One Gregory, a christian Bishop old,  
Who entered in whereas this person lay,  
And lodged there all night to scape the cold,  
Good entertainment gave the Priest him tho,  
And used him well according to his guise,  
And told him all in order so and so,  
How Phoebus there was served and in what wise,  
What numbers great did seek him day by day,  
And what great store of people round about,  
Were satisfied when as they came that way,  
And answered full to every kind of doubt,  
The next day when the sun doth give his light,  
The guest departs and bids his Host adieu,  
And thanks him for his lodging that same night,  
And praise good luck of their acquaintance new,  
Unto the Church the Priest in haste doth high,  
And offers up his costly sacrifice  
He downward falls and on his face doth lie,  
And prayeth to his God in humble wise,  
And counsel asks of divers weighty things,  
What best for to be done in this or that.  
Whilst of his prayers thus the temple rings,  
This golden God that on the altar sat  
Ne spoke a word, nor gave him any sign,  
Of prayers heard as he before had done,  
His tongue was tied he could not now divine,  
What happened had or what thing was to come,  
With countenance sad the Priest doth home departed,  
And museth at this strange and sudden chance,  
Laments the case with mourning heavy heart,  
And fares as one beside himself in trance,  
Thus heavily he spends the day away.  
And when the night with shadow dark was come.  
And time for every man to go to rest,  
While on his bed he doth begin to ●●ome,  
Lo straight appears his God all rudely dressed,  
With ernfull look and thus to him he spoke,  
What meanest thou thus to vex thy troubled spirit,  
For pleasing me whose force is now so weak,  
That scarcely can I holds myself upright,  
That wretched guest whom thou this other night  
So entertaynst, hath me thus soul disgraced,  
Hath stayed my tongue, and wrought me this despite,  
By whom for ever am I clean defaced,  
Nor in my temple can I longer set,  
Nor answer thee as I have done before  
Except of him thou licence for me get,  
Thou knowest my stay, torment thyself no more,  
The Priest awakes, and soon he leaves his bed,  
And follows fast his late departed guest,  
Treads our the path which he before did tread,  
And panseth not, nor doth intend to rest,  
Till he him find, whom soon he overtakes,  
And humbly doth him of his help require,  
And true report of every thing he makes,  
What doleful chance hath happened in his choir,  
And what mishap unto his God befell,  
And how his gains are gone from him thereby  
With ruthful look amazed doth he tell,  
Beseecheth him to help him speedily,  
And to restore to him his God again,  
Which otherwise would be his great decay,  
If that he should with silence thus remain,  
He wills him to remember that same day,  
Wherein he weary to his house did come,  
How that each friendship then that in him lay,  
Hen showed him there, and how each thing was done.  
The gentle ghost his Host doth not forget  
But for to show him friendship like again,  
Unto the paper strait his hand doth set  
And thus he writes in letters fair and plain,  
Unto Apollo Gregorius greeting sends,  
I give thee leave, do as thou didst before.  
With this he makes his Host a full amend,  
Who thanketh him with all his heart therefore,  
And home he comes as fast as he may ●ing,  
And of his Church the door he opens wide,  
And unto Phoebus doth the letter bring,  
Upon the Altar lays it him beside,  
The Idol straight begins again to prate,  
And answer gives as he was wont to do,  
And prophecies of his and his estate,  
Of subtle oracles disclosing one or two,  
The Priest begins to alter his intent,  
And to himself he mutters in his mind,  
That this strange power is only to him lent,  
And granted by some force of higher kind,  
He deems his God's authority but small,  
That thus is ruled by a mortal Wight,  
Nor longer means he unto him be thrall,  
That is obedient to another spirit,  
He takes his letter and hies him thence apace,  
And bids both Church and God adieu for aye,  
Comes straight to Gregory, and telleth him the case,  
And prays him for to show him plain the way,  
By true religion to worship God on high,  
And doth repent his former wretched trade,  
And all his life spent in idolatry,  
Wherein he list not longer for to wade,  
Thus falling flat on ground before his feet,  
The other gently doth him there receive,  
And shows the effect of 〈…〉▪  
〈…〉 to 〈◊〉▪  
Who after that he had a while professed,  
The Christian law, and sweet religion taught,  
took such delight therein that all the rest  
Of fancies vain he left and set at nought,  
Embraced Christ, and served him faithfully,  
And in such sort that when this Gregory di●●,  
As Pastor chief his room he did supply,  
And happily his happy flock did guide.   
FINIS.