SONGS AND sonnets, written by the right honourable Lord Henry Haward late Earl of Surrey, and other.  
Apud Ricardum Tottel. Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum. .1557.   

To the reder.  
THat to have well written in verse, yea and in small parcels, deserveth great praise, the workers of divers Latins, Italians, & other, do prove sufficiently. That our tongue is able in that kind to do as praise worthily as the rest, the honourable style of the noble earl of Surrey, and the weightiness of the deep witted sir Thomas Wyatt the elders verse, with several graces in sundry good English writers, do show abundantly. It resteth now (gentle reder) that thou think it not evil don, to publish, to the honour of the english tongue, and for prosit of the studious of English eloquence, those works which the ungentle horders up of such treasure have heretofore envied the. And for this point (good reder) thine own profit and pleasure, in these presently, & in more hereafter, shall answer for my defence. If perhaps some mislike the stateliness of style removed from the rude skill of common earee: I ask help of the learned to defend their learned friends, the authors of this work. And I exhort the unlearned, by reading to learn to ●ee more skilful, and to purge that swinelike grossness, that maketh the sweet maierome not to smell to their delight.   

Description of the restless state of a lover, with suit to his lady, to rue on his dying heart.  
THe sun hath twice brought forth his tender green,  
Twice clad the earth in lively lustiness:  
Ones have the winds the trees despoiled ciene,  
And one's again gins their cruelness,  
Sins I have hid under my breast the harm,  
That never shall recover healthfulness.  
The winter's hurt recovers with the warm:  
The parched green restored is with shade.  
What warmth (alas) may serve for to disarm  
The frozen heart, that mine in flame hath made?  
What cold again is able to restore  
My fresh green years, that wither thus and fade?  
Alas, I see nothing hath hurt so sore,  
But time in time reduceth a return:  
In time my harm increaseth more and more,  
And seems to have my cure always in scorn.  
Strange kinds of death, in life that I do try:  
At hand to melt, far of in flame to burn.  
And like as time list to my cure apply,  
So doth each place my comfort clean refuse.  
All thing alive, that seeth the heavens with eye,  
With cloak of night may cover, and excuse  
Itself from travail of the days unrest,  
Save I, alas, against all others use,  
That then stir up the torments of my breast,  
And curse each star as causer of my fate:  
And when the sun hath eke the dark oppressed,  
And brought the day, it doth nothing abate  
The travails of mine endless smart and pain.  
For then as one that hath the light in hate,  
I wish for night, more covertly to plain,  
And me withdraw from every haunted place,  
Lest by my cheer my chance appear to plain:  
And in my mind I measure pace by pace,  
To seek the place where I myself had lost,  
That day that I was tangled in the lace,  
In seeming slack that knitteth ever most:  
But never yet the travail of my thought  
Of better state could catch a cause to boast.  
For if I found sometime, that I have sought,  
Those stars by whom I trusted of the port:  
My sails do fall, and I advance right nought,  
As ankerd fast: my spirits do all resort  
To stand agazed, and sink in more and more  
The deadly harm which she doth take in sport.  
Lo, if I seek, how I do find my sore:  
And if I flee, I carry with me still  
The venomed shaft, which doth his force restore  
By haste of flight and I may plain my fill  
Unto myself, unless this careful song  
Print in your heart some parcel of my tene.  
For I, alas, in silence all to long,  
Of mine old hurt yet feel the wound but green▪  
Rue on my life: or else your cruel wrong  
Shall well appear, and by my death be seen.   

Description of Spring, wherein each thing renews, save only the lover.  
THe foot season, that bud and bloom forth brings,  
With green hath clad the hill, and eke the vale:  
The nightingale, with feathers new she sings:  
The turtle to her make hath told her tale:  
Summer is come, for every spray now springs,  
The heart hath hung his old head on the pale:  
The buck in brake his winter coat he flings:  
The fishes fleet with new repaired scale:  
The adder all her slough away she slings:  
The swift swallow pursueth the flies small:  
The busy be her honey now she minges:  
Winter is worn that was the flowers bale:  
And thus I see among these pleasant things,  
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.   

Description of the restless state of a lover.  
WHen youth had led me half the race,  
That Cupid's scourge had made me run:  
I looked back, to meet the place,  
From whence my weary course begun.  
And then I saw how my desire,  
Misguiding me, had led the way:  
Mine eyen, to greedy of their hire,  
Had made me lose a better pray.  
For when in sighs I spent the day  
And could not cloak my grief with game:  
The boiling smoke did still bewray  
The perceant heat of secret flame.  
And when salt tears do bain my breast,  
where love his pleasant trains hath sown:  
Her beauty hath the fruits oppressed,  
Ere that the buds were sprung and blown.  
And when mine eyen did still pursue  
The flying chase of their request  
Their greedy looks did oft renew  
The hidden wound within my breast.  
When every look these cheeks might stain,  
From deadly pale to glowing red:  
By outward signs appeared plain,  
To her for help my heart was fled.  
But all to late love learneth me,  
To paint all kind of colours new:  
To blind their eyes that else should see  
My specled cheeks with Cupid's hew.  
And now the covert breast I claim,  
That worshipped Cupid secretly,  
And nourished his sacred flame:  
From whence no blazing sparks do fly.   

Desciption of the fickle affections, pangs, and sleights of love.  
SUch wayward ways hath love, that most part in discord  
Our wills do stand: whereby our hearts but seldom do accord.  
Deceit in his delight, and to beguile, and mock  
The simple hearts, whom he doth strike with froward divers stroke.  
He causeth th'one to rage with golden burning dart,  
And doth allay with leaden cold again the other heart.  
Hot gleams of burning fire, and easy sparks of flame  
In balance of unegal weight he pondereth by aim.  
From easy ford, where I might wade and pass full well,  
He me withdraws, and doth me drive into a deep dark hell,  
And me withholds, where I am called, and offered place:  
And wills me that my mortal foe I do beseke of grace.  
He lets me to pursue a conquest well near won,  
To follow where my pains were lost, ere that my suit begun.  
So by this means I know how soon a heart may turn,  
From war to peace, from truce to strife, and so again return.  
I know how to content myself in others lust:  
Of little stuff unto myself to weave a web of trust:  
And how to hide my harms with soft dissembling cheer,  
When in my face the painted thoughts would outwardly apere.  
I know how that the blood forsakes the face for dread:  
And how by shame it stains again the cheeks with flaming red.  
I know under the green the serpent how he lurks.  
The hammer of the restless forge I wot eke how it works.  
I know and can by rote the tale that I would tell:  
But oft the words come forth awry of him that loveth well.  
I know in heat and cold the lover how he shakes:  
In singing how he doth complain, in sleeping how he wakes:  
To languish without ache, sickless for to consume:  
A thousand things for to devise, resolving all in fume.  
And though he list to see his ladies grace full sore.  
Such pleasures, as delight his eye, do not his health restore.  
I know to seek the tract of my desired foe:  
And fear to find that I do seek. But chief this I know,  
That lovers must transform into the thing beloved,  
And live (alas who would believe?) with spirit from life removed.  
I know in hearty sighs, and laughters of the spleen,  
At ones to change my state, my will, and eke my colour clean.  
I know how to deceive myself with others help:  
And how the Lion chastised is by beating of the whelp.  
In standing near my fire, I know how that I freze:  
Far of I burn: in both I wast: and so my life I leze.  
I know how love doth rage upon a yielding mind:  
How small a net may take and meash a heart of gentle kind:  
Or else with seldom sweet to season heaps of gall:  
revived with a glimpse of grace old sorrows to let fall,  
The hidden trains I know and secret snares of love:  
How soon a look will print a thought, that never may remove.  
The slipper state I know, the sudden turns from wealth,  
The doubtful hope, the certain woe, and sure despe●● of health.   

Complaint of a lover, that defied love, and was by love after the more tormented.  
WHen summer took in hand the winter to assail,  
With force of might, & virtue great, his stormy blasts to quail,  
And when he clothed fair the earth about with green,  
And every tree new garmented, that pleasure was to seen:  
Mine heart 'gan new revive, and changed blood did stur  
Me to withdraw my winter woes, that kept within the door.  
A broad, quoth my desire: assay to set thy foot,  
Where thou shalt find the savour sweet: for sprung is every rote.  
And to thy health, if thou were sick in any case,  
Nothing more good, than in the spring the air to feel a space.  
There shalt thou hear and see all kinds of hirdes ywrought,  
Well tune their voice which warble small, as nature hath them taught.  
Thus pricked me my lust the sluggish house to leave:  
And for my health I thought it best such counsel to receive.  
So on a morrow forth, unwist of any wight.  
I went to prove how weil it would my heavy burden light.  
And when I felt the air so pleasant round about,  
Lord, to myself how glad I was that I had gotten out.  
There might I see how Ver had every blossom hent:  
And eke the new betrothed birds yccupled how they went.  
And in their songs me thought they thanked nature much,  
That by her licence all that ●ere to love their hap was such,  
Right as they could devise to choose them feres throughout:  
With much rejoicing to their Lord thus flew they all about.  
Which when I 'gan to folue, and in my head conceive,  
What pleasant life, what heaps of joy these little birds receive.  
And saw in what estate I weary man was brought,  
By want of that they had at will, and I reject at nought:  
Lord how I 'gan in wrath unwisely me demean.  
I cursed love and him defied: I thought to turn the stream,  
But when I well beheld he had me under awe,  
I as●ed mercy for my fault, that so transgressed his law.  
Thou blinded God (quoth I) forgive me this offence,  
Unwittingly I went about, to malice thy pretence.  
Wherewith he gave a beck, and thus me thought he swore,  
Thy sorrow ought suffice to purge thy fault, if it were more.  
The virtue of which sound mine heart did so revive,  
That I, me thought, was made as whole as any man alive,  
But here I may perceive mine error all and some,  
For that I thought that so it was: yet was it still undone.  
And all that was no more but mine expressed mind,  
That feign would have some good relief, of Cupid well assind●●  
I turned home forthwith, and might perceive it well,  
That he aggrieved was right sore with me for my rebel.  
My harms have ever since, increased more and more,  
And I remain without his help, undone for evermore,  
A mirror let me be unto ye lovers all:  
Strive not with love, for if ye do, it will ye thus befall.   

Complaint of a lover rebuked.  
Love, that liveth, and reigneth in my thought,  
That built his seat within my captive breast,  
Clad in the arms, wherein with me he fought,  
Oft in my face he doth his banner rest.  
She. that me taught to love, and suffer pain,  
My doubtful hope, and eke my hot desire,  
with shamefast cloak to shadow and restrain,  
Her smiling grace converteth strait to ire.  
And coward love then to the heart apace  
Taketh his flight, whereas he lurks and plains  
His purpose lost, and dare not show his face.  
For my lords gilded thus faultless bide I pains,  
Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove.  
Sweet is his death, that takes his end by love.   

Complaint of the lover disdained.  
IN Cyprus, springs (where as dame Venus dwelled)  
I Well so hot is, that who tastes the same.  
Were he of stone, as thawed ice should melt,  
And kindled find his breast with fired flame.  
Whose moist poison dissolved hath my heart.  
With creeping fire my cold lymsar suppressed,  
Feeleth the heart that har●orde freedom smart,  
Endless despair long thraldom hath impressed.  
An other well of frozen ice is found,  
Whose chilling venom of repugnant kind  
The fervent heat doth quench of Cupid's wound:  
And with the spot of change infects the mind:  
Whereof my deer hath tasted, to my pain.  
Whereby my service grows into disdain.   

Description and praise of his love Geraldine.  
FRom Tuskane came my Ladies worthy race:  
Fair Florence was sometime her ancient seat:  
The Western isle, whose pleasant shore doth face  
Wild Camber's clifs, furst gave her lively heat:  
Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast:  
Her sire, an Earl: her dame, of prince's blood.  
From tender years, in Britain did she rest,  
With a kings child, who tasteth ghostly food.  
Honsdon did first present her to mine eyen:  
Bright is her hew, and Geraldine she hight.  
Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine:  
And Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight.  
Her beauty of kind, her virtues from aboven  
Happy is he, that can obtain her love.   

The frailty and hurtfulness of beauty.  
BRittle beauty, that nature made so frail,  
Whereof the gift is small, and short the season,  
Flowering to day, to morrow apt to fail,  
Tickell treasure abhorred of reason,  
Dangerous to deal with, vain, of none avail,  
Costly in keeping, passed not worth two peason,  
Slipper in sliding as is an eyes tail,  
Hard to attain, once gotten not geason,  
jewel of jeopardy that peril doth assail,  
False and untrue, enticed oft to treason,  
Enemy to youth: that most may I bewail.  
Ah bitter sweet infecting as the poison:  
Thou farest as fruit that with the frost is taken,  
To day ready ripe, to morrow all to shaken.   

A complaint by night of the lover not beloved.  
ALas so all things now do hold their peace.  
Heaven and earth disturbed in nothing:  
The beasts, the air, the birds their song do cease:  
The nights char the stars about doth bring:  
Calm is the Sea, the waves work less and less:  
So am not I, whom love alas doth wring,  
Bringing before my face the great increase  
Of my desires, whereat I weep and sing,  
In joy and woe, as in a doubtful ease.  
For my sweet thoughts sometime do pleasure bring:  
But by and by the cause of my disease  
gives me a pang, that inwardly doth sting.  
When that I think what grief it is again,  
To live and lack the thing should rid my pain.   

How each thing save the lover in spring reviveth to pleasure.  
WHen Windsor walls sustained my wearied arm,  
My hand my chin, to ease my restless head:  
Set pleasant plots revested green with warm,  
The blossomed bows with ●●sty Ueryspred,  
The flowered meads, the wedded birds so late  
Mine eyes discover: and to my mind resort  
The jolly woes, the hateless short debate,  
The r●kchell life that longs to loves disport.  
Wherewith; alast the heavy charge of care  
Heaped in my breast breaks forth against my will,  
In smoky sighs, that overcast the air.  
My vapord eyes such dreary tears distill,  
The tender spring which quicken where they fall,  
And I halfbent to throw me down withal.   

Vow to love faithfully howsoever he be rewarded.  
SEt me whereas the Sun do parch the green,  
Or where his beams do not dissolve the ice:  
In temperate heat where he is felt and seen:  
In presence priest of people mad or wise.  
Set me in high, or yet in low degree:  
In longest night, or in the shortest day:  
In clearest sky, or where clouds thickest be:  
In lusty youth, or when my hears are grey.  
Set me in heaven, in earth, or else in hell,  
In hill, or dale, or in the foaming flood:  
Thrall, or at large, alive where so I dwell:  
Sick, or in health● in ●uyll feign, or good,  
Hers will I be, and only with this thought  
Content myself, although my chance be nought.   

Complaint that his lady after she knew of his love kept her face always hidden from him.  
I Never saw my Lady lay apart  
Her cornet black, in cold nor yet in heat,  
Sith first she knew my grief was grown so great,  
Which other fancies driveth from my heart.  
That to myself I do the thought reserve,  
The which unwares did wound my woeful breast,  
For on her face mine eyes mought never rest,  
Sins that she knew I did her love and serve,  
Her golden tress is clad always with black,  
Her smiling looks to hide thus evermore,  
And that restrains which I desire so sore.  
So doth this corner govern my alack:  
In summer, sun: in winter's breath, of frost:  
Whereby the light of her fair looks I lost.   

Request to his love to join bounty with beauty.  
THe golden gift that nature did thee give  
To fasten friends, and feed them at thy will,  
With form and favour, taught me to believe.  
How thou art made to show her greatest skill.  
Whose hidden virtues are not so unknown,  
But lively domes might gather at the furst  
Where beauty so her perfect seed hath sown,  
Of other graces follow needs there must.  
Now certes Garret, sins all this is true,  
That from above thy gifts are thus elect:  
Do not deface them than with fancies new,  
Nor change of minds let not thy mind infect:  
But mercy him thy friend, that doth thee serve,  
Who seeks always thine honour to preserve.   

Prisoned in windsor, he recounteth his pleasure there passed.  
SO cruel prison how could betide, alas,  
As proud Windsor: where I in lust and joy.  
With a kings son, my childish years did pass,  
In greater feasts than Priam's sons of Troy:  
Where each sweet place returns a taste full sour,  
The large green courts, where we were wont to hone,  
With eyes cast up into the maidens tower.  
And easy sighs, such as folk draw in love:  
The stately seats, the ladies bright of hew  
The dances short, long tales of great delight:  
with words and looks, that tigers could but rue,  
Where each of us did plead the others right:  
The palm play, where, despoiled for the game,  
with dazed eyes oft we by gleams of love,  
Have missed the ball, and got sight of our dame,  
To bait her eyes, which kept the leads above:  
The gravel ground, with sleeves tied on the helm:  
On foaming horse, with sword and friendly hearts:  
With cheer, as though one should another whelm:  
Where we have fought, and chased oft with darts,  
with silver drops the mead yet spread for ruth,  
In active games of nimbleness, and strength,  
Where we did strain, trained with swarms of youth.  
Our tender limbs, that yet shot up in length:  
The secret groves, which oft we made resound  
Of pleasant plaint, and of our lady's praise,  
Recording oft what grace each one had found,  
what hope of speed, what dread of long delays:  
The wild forest, the clothed holtes with green:  
With rains availed, and swift ybreathed horse,  
With cry of hounds and merry blasts between,  
Where we did chase the fearful heart of force,  
The wide vales eke that harborde us each night,  
Wherewith (alas) reviveth in m● breast  
The sweet accord, such sleeps as yet delight:  
The pleasant dreams, the quiet bed of rest:  
The secret thoughts imparted with such trust:  
The wanton talk, the divers change of play:  
The friendship sworn, each promise kept so just:  
wherewith we passed the winter nights away.  
And, with this thought, the blood forsakes the face,  
The tears betaine my cheeks of deadly hew:  
The which as soon as sobbing sighs ●alas)  
Upsupped have, thus I my plaint renew:  
O place of bliss, renewer of my woes,  
give me account, where is my noble fere:  
Whom in thy walls thou dost each night enclose,  
To other lief, but unto me most dear.  
Echo (alas) that doth my sorrow rue,  
Returns thereto a hollow sound of plaint.  
Thus I alone, where all my freedom grew,  
In prison pine, with bondage and restraint,  
And with remembrance of the greater grief  
To banish the less, I find my chief relief.   

The lover comforteth himself with the worthiness of his love.  
WHen raging love with extreme pain  
Most cruelly distrains my heart:  
When that my tears, as floods of rain,  
Bear witness of my woeful smart:  
When sighs have wasted so my breath,  
That I lie at the point of death.  
I call to mind the navy great,  
That the Greeks brought to Troy town:  
And how the boisterous winds did beat  
Their ships, and rend their sails adown,  
Till Agamemnon's daughter's blood  
Appea●de the Gods, that them withstood.  
And how that in those ten years war,  
Full many a bloody deed was done,  
And many a lord, that came full far,  
There caught his bane (alas) to soon:  
And many a good knight overrun,  
Before the Greeks had Helen won.  
Then think I thus: sith such repair,  
So long time war of valiant men,  
Was all to win a lady fair:  
Shall I not learn to suffer then,  
And think my life well spent to be,  
Serving a worthier wight than she?  
Therefore I never will repent,  
But pains contented still endure.  
For like as when, rough winter spent,  
The pleasant spring strait draweth in ure:  
So after raging storms of care  
joyful at length may be my fare.   

Complaint of the absence of her lover being upon the sea.  
O Happy dam●s, that may embrace  
The fruit of your belight,  
Help to bewail the woeful case,  
And eke the heavy plight  
Of me, that wont to rejoice  
The fortune of my pleasant choice:  
Good ladies, help to fill my morning voyc●.  
In ship, fraught with remembrance  
Of thoughts, and pleasures past,  
He sails that hath in governance  
My life, while it will last:  
With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,  
furthering his hope, that is his sail  
Toward me, the sweet port of his avails  
Alas, how oft in dreams I see  
Those eyes that were my food,  
Which sometime so delighted me,  
That yet they do me good.  
Wherewith I wake with his return,  
Whose absent flame did make me burn.  
But when I find the lack, Lord how I mourn?  
When other lovers in arms across,  
Rejoice their chief delight:  
Drowned in tears to mourn my loss,  
I stand the bitter night,  
In my window, where I may see,  
Before the winds how the clouds ●lee.  
Lo, what a Mariner love hath made me.  
And in green waves when the salt flood  
Doth rise by rage of wind:  
A thousand fancies in that mood  
Assail my restless mind.  
Alas, now drencheth my sweet foe,  
That with the spoil of my heart did go,  
And left me but (alas) why did he so?  
And when the seas ware calm again,  
To chase fro me annoy.  
My doubtful hope doth cause me plain:  
So dread cuts of my joy.  
Thus is my wealth mingled with woe,  
And of each thought a doubt doth grow,  
Now he comes, will he come? alas, not no.   

Complaint of a dying lover refused upon his ladies injust mista, king of his writing.  
IN winter's just return, when Bor●as 'gan his reign,  
And every tree unclothed fast, as nature taught them plain:  
In misty morning dark, as sheep are then in hold,  
I hied me fast, it sat me on, my sheep for to unfold.  
And as it is a thing, that lovers have by fits,  
Under a palm I heard one cry, as he had lost his wits.  
Whose voice did ring so shrill, in uttering of his plaint,  
That I amazed was to hear, how love could him attaint.  
Ah wretched man (quoth he) come death, and rid this woe:  
A just reward, a happy end, if it may chawce thee so.  
Thy pleasures past have wrought thy woe, without redress.  
If thou hadst never felt no joy, thy smart had been the less,  
And reckless of his life, he 'gan both sigh and groan,  
A rueful thing me thought, it was, to hear him make such moan,  
Thou cursed pen (said he) woe worth the bird thee bare,  
The man, the knife, and all that made thee, woe be to their share.  
woe worth the time, and place, where I so could endit●.  
And woe be it yet once again, the pen that so can write.  
Unhappy hand, it had been happy time for me,  
If, when to write thou learned first, unjointed hadst thou be.  
Thus cursed he himself, and every other wight,  
Save her alone whom love him bound, to serve both day & night.  
Which when I heard, and saw, how he himself fordid,  
Against the ground with bloody strokes, himself even there to rid:  
Had been my heart of flint, it must have melted tho:  
For in my life I never saw a man so full of w●.  
With tears, for his redress, I rashly to him ran.  
And in my arms I caught him fast, and thus I spoke him then.  
What woeful wight art thou, that in such heavy case  
Torments thyself with such despite, here in this desert place?  
Wherewith, as all aghast, fulfilled with ir●, and dread,  
He cast on me ●●●ring look, with colour pale, and ded.  
Nay, wh 〈…〉 ou (quoth he) that in this heau● plight,  
Dost find 〈◊〉, most woeful wretch, that life hath in despite  
I am quot● 〈◊〉 out poor, and simple in degree:  
A shepherds charge I have in hand, unworthy though I be.  
With that he gave a sigh, as though the sky should fall:  
And loud (alas) he shrieked oft, and Shepard 'gan he call,  
Come, hie the fast at ones, and print it in thy heart:  
So thou shalt know, and I shall tell thee, guiltless how I smart.  
His back against the tree, sore feebled all with faint,  
With weary spirit he stretched him up: and thus he told his plaint.  
Ones in my heart (quoth he) it chanced me to love  
Such one, in whom hath nature wrought, her cunning for to prove.  
And sure I can not say, but many years were spent,  
with such good will so recompensed, as both we were content  
Whereto then I me bound, and she likewise also,  
The sun should run his course awry, ere we this faith forego.  
who ioied then, but I: who had this worlds bliss?  
Who might compare a life to mine, that never thought on this?  
But dwelling in this truth, amid my greatest joy,  
Is me befallen a greater loss, than Priam had of Troy.  
She is reversed clean, and beareth me in hand,  
That my deserts have given her cause to break this faithful band.  
And for my just excuse availeth no defence,  
Now knowest thou all: I can no more, but shepherd hie the hence  
And give him leave to die, that may no l●nger live:  
Whose record lo I claim to have, my death, I do forgive.  
And eke when I am gone, be bold to speak it plain:  
Thou hast seen die the truest man, that ever love did pain.  
Wherewith he turned him round, and gasping oft for breath,  
Into his arms a tree he raught and said welcome my death:  
welcome a thousand fold, now dearer unto me,  
Than should without her love to live, an emperor to be.  
Thus, in this woeful state, he yielded up the ghost:  
And little knoweth his lady, what a lover she hath lost.  
Whose death when I beheld, no marvel was it, right  
For pity though my heart did bleed, to see so piteous sight,  
My blood from heat to cold oft changed wonders sore:  
A thousand troubles there I found I never knew before.  
Tween dread and dolour, so my spirits were brought in fear,  
That long it w●s ere I could call to mind, what I did there.  
But, as each thing hath end, so had these pains of mine:  
The furies past, and I my wits restored by length of time.  
Then as I could devise, to seek I thought it bes●,  
Where I might find some worthy place, for su●●● corpse to rest.  
And in my mind it came: from thence not far away,  
Where Creseids love, king Priam's son, the worthy Troilus la●  
By him I made his tomb, in token he was true:  
And as to him belongeth well, I covered it with blue.  
Whose soul by angel's power, departed not so soon,  
But to the heavens, lo it fled, for to receive his doom.   

Complaint of the absence of her lover being upon the sea.  
GOod Ladies: ye that have your pleasures in exile;  
Step in your foot, come take a place, & mourn with me a whil●  
And such as by their lords do set but little price,  
Let them sit still: it skills them not what chance come on the dice.  
But ye whom love hath bound by order of desire,  
To love your lords, whose good deserts none other would require:  
Come ye yet once again, and set your foot by mine,  
Whose woeful plight and sorrows great no tongue may well de●●ne,  
My love and lord alas, in whom consists my wealth,  
Hath fortune sent to pass the seas in hazard of his health.  
Whom I was wont tembrace with well contented minde●  
Is now amid the foaming floods at pleasure of the wind.  
Where God well him preserve, and soon him home me send,  
Without which hope, my life (alas) were shortly at an end.  
Whose absence yet, although my hope doth tell me plain,  
With short return he comes anon, yet ceaseth not my pain,  
The fearful dreams I have, of● times do grieve me so:  
That when I wake, I lie in doubt, where they be true, or no.  
Sometime the roaring seas (me seems) do grow so high:  
That my dear Lord (ay me alas) me thinks I see him die.  
another time the same doth tell me: he is come:  
And playing, where I shall him find with his fair little son  
So, forth I go apace to see that leefsome sight,  
And with a kiss, me think, I say, welcome my lord, my knight.  
Welcome my sweet, alas, the stay of my welfare.  
Thy presence bringeth forth a tru●● atwixt me, and my care,  
Then lively doth he look, and salu●th me again,  
And saith, my deer how is it now, that you have all this rain?  
wherewith the heavy cares, that heaped are in my breast,  
Break forth and me dischargen clean of all my huge unrest.  
But when I me awake, and find it but a dream,  
The anguish of my former woe beginneth more extreme,  
And me tormenteth so that unneath may I find  
Some hidden place, wherein to slake the gnawing of my mind,  
Thus every way you see, with absence how I burn,  
And for my wound no cure I find, but hope of good return  
Save when I think, by sour how sweet is felt the more,  
It doth abate some of my pains, that I abode before,  
And then unto myself I say, when we shall mete.  
But little while shall seem this pain, the joy shall be so sweet,  
Ye winds I you conjure in chiefest of your rage,  
That ye my Lord safely send, my sorrows to assuage,  
And that I may not long abide in this excess,  
Do your good will, to cure a wight, that liveth in distress.   

A praise of his love wherein he reproveth them that compare their Ladies with his.  
Give place ye lovers, here before  
That spent your boasts and brags in vain,  
My Lady's beauty passeth more  
The best of yours, I dare well say,  
Then doth the son, the candle light,  
Or brightest day, the darkest night,  
And thereto hath a troth as just,  
As had Penelope the fair,  
For what she saith, ye may it trust.  
As it by writing sealed were,  
And virtues hath she many more,  
Than I with pen have skill to show.  
I could rehearse, if that I would  
The whole effect of nature's plaint,  
when she had lost the perfit mould,  
The like to whom she could not paint:  
with wring hands how she did cry,  
And what she said, I know it, I.  
I know, she swore with raging mind.  
Her kingdom only set apart,  
There was no loss, by law of kind,  
That could have gone so near her heart.  
And this was chief all her pain:  
She could not make the like again.  
Sith nature thus gave her the praise  
To be the chiefest work she wrought:  
In faith me think some better ways  
On your behalf might well be sought,  
Then to compare (as ye have done)  
To match the candle with the sun.   

To the lady that scorned her lover  
ALthough I had check,  
To give the mate is hard,  
For I have found a neck,  
To keep mi men in guard.  
And you that hardy are  
To give so great assay,  
Unto a man of war.  
To drive his men away:  
I read you take good heed,  
And mark this foolish verse,  
For I will so provide.  
That I will have your fierce,  
And when your fierce is had,  
And all your war is done,  
Then shall your self be glad  
To end that you begun,  
For if by chance I win  
Your person in the field:  
To late then come you in  
Yourself to me to yield.  
For I will use ●y power,  
As captain full of might,  
And such I will devour,  
As vs● to show me spite.  
And for because you gave  
Me check in your degree,  
This vantage lo I have,  
Now check, and guard: to thee,  
Defend it, if thou may,  
Stand stiff, in thine estate,  
For sure I will assay,  
If I can give the mate.   

A warning to the lover how he is abused by his love.  
TO dearly had I bought my green and youthful years,  
If in mine age I could not find when craft for love appears.  
And seldom though I come in court among the ●est.  
Yet can I judge in colours dim as deep as can the best.  
Where grief torments the man that suffereth secret smart,  
To break it forth unto some friend it easeth well the heart,  
So stands i● now with me for my be●ened friend.  
Thy case is thine for whom I feel such torment of my mind.  
And for thy sake I burn so in my secret breast  
That till thou know my whole disease my heart can have no rest,  
I see how thine abuse ●ath wrested so thy wits,  
That all it yields to thy desire, and follows the by fits.  
Where thou hast loved so long with heart and all thy power,  
I see thee fed with feigned words, thy freedom to devour.  
I know● (though she say nay, and would i● well withstand)  
Wh●n in her grace thou heldest the mo●t, she bore the but in hand,  
I see her pleasant cheer in chiefest of th● s●●e,  
When thou art gone, I see him come that gathers up the fruit.  
And eke in thy respect I see ●he base degree  
Of him to whom she gave the har● that promised was to thee,  
I see what would you more● stood never m●n so sure  
On woman's word but wisdom would mistrust i● to endure.   

The forsakeu lover describeth and forsakes love.  
O Loathsome place where I  
Have seen and hard my deer  
when in my heart her eye  
Hath made her thought appear  
By glimpsing with such grace  
As fortune it ne would,  
That lasten any space  
Between us l●nger should.  
As fortune did advance,  
To further my desire:  
Even so hath fortunes chance  
Thrown all amids the mire.  
And that I have deserved  
with true and faithful heart,  
Is to his hands reserved  
That never felt the smart.  
But happy is that man,  
That scaped hath the grief  
That love well teach him can  
By wanting his relief.  
A scourge to quiet minds  
It is, who taketh heed.  
A common plague that binds,  
A travel without meed.  
This gift it hath also,  
who so enjoys it most,  
A thousand troubles grow  
To vex his wearied ghost.  
And last it may not long  
The truest thing of all  
And sure the greatest wrong  
That is within this thrall.  
But sins thou desert place  
Canst give me no account  
Of my desired grace  
That I so have was wont  
Farewell thou hast me taught  
To think me not the furst,  
That love hath set aloft,  
And casten in the dust.   

The lover describes his restless state.  
AS oft as I behold and see  
The sovereign beauty that me bound●;  
The nigher my comfort is to m●,  
Alas the fresher is my wound.  
As flame doth quench by rage of fire,  
And running streams consume by rain:  
So doth the sight, that I desire,  
Appease my grief and deadly pain.  
First when I saw those crystal streams,  
Whose beauty made my mortal wound:  
I little thought within her beams  
So sweet a venom to have found.  
But wilful will did prick me forth,  
And blind Cupid did whip and guide●  
Force made me take my grief in worth:  
My fruitless hope my harm did hide.  
As cruel waves full oft be found,  
Against the rocks to roar and cry:  
So doth my heart full oft rebound  
Against my breast full bitterly.  
I fall, and see mine own decay,  
As one that bears flame in his breast,  
Forgets in pain to put away,  
The thing that breedeth mine unresty   

The lover excuseth himself of suspected change.  
THough I regarded not  
The promise made by me,  
Or passed not to spot  
My faith and honesty:  
Yet were my fancy strange,  
And witful will to wit,  
If I sought now to change  
A falkon for a kite.  
All men might well dispraise  
My wit and enterprise,  
If I esteemed a peses  
Above a pearl in prize:  
Or judged the owl in sight  
The sparrowhawk to excel,  
which stieth but in the night,  
As all men know right well.  
Or if I sought to sail  
Into the brittle port,  
Where ankerhold doth fail,  
To such as do resort.  
And leave the haven sure,  
Where blows no blustering wind,  
Nor fickelnesse in ure  
So farforth as I find.  
No, think me not so light,  
Nor of so churlish kind,  
Though it lay in my might  
My bondage to unbind.  
That I would leave the hind  
To hunt the ganders so.  
No no I have no mind  
To make exchanges so:  
Nor yet to change at all,  
For think it may not be  
That I should seek to fall  
From my felicity,  
Desirous for to win,  
And loath for to forego,  
Or new change to begin:  
How may all this be so?  
The fire it can not frese:  
For it is not his kind,  
Nor true love can not lose  
The constance of the mind.  
Yet as soon shall the fire,  
Want heat to blaze and b●rn,  
As I in such desire,  
Have once a thought to turn.   

A careless man, scorning and describing, the subtle usage of women toward their lovers.  
Wrapped in my careless cloak, as I walked to and fro:  
I see, how love can show, what force there reigneth in his bow  
And how he shooteth eke, a hardy heart to wound:  
And where he glanceth by again, that little hurt is found.  
For seldom is it seen, he woundeth hearts alike.  
The tone may rage's, when tother love is often far to seek.  
All this I see, with more: and wonder thinketh me:  
How he can strike the one so sore, and leave the other free.  
I see, that wounded wight, that suffereth all this wrong:  
How he is fed with yea, and nays, and liveth all to long.  
In silence though I keep such secrets to myself:  
Yet do I see, how she sometime doth yield a look by stealth:  
As though it seemed, ywys I will not lose thee so,  
When in her heart so sweet a thought did never truly grow.  
Then say I thus: alas, that man is far from bliss:  
That doth receive for his relief, none other gain but this.  
And she, that feeds him so, I feel, and find it plain:  
Is but to glory in her power, that over such can reign.  
Nor are such graces spent, but when she thinks, that he,  
A wearied man is fully bend, such fancies to let fly:  
Then to retain him still, she wresteth new her grace,  
And smileth lo, as though she would forthwith the man embrace;  
But when the proof is made, to try such looks withal:  
He findeth then the place all void, and freighted full of gall.  
Lord what abuse is this: who can such women praise?  
That for their glory do devise, to use such crafty ways,  
I, that among the rest do sit, and mark the row,  
Find, that in her is greater craft, then is in twenty more.  
Whose tender years, alas, with wiles so well are sped:  
What will she do, when hoary hears are powdered in her head?   

An answer in the behalf of a woman of an uncertain author.  
Gird in my guiltless gown as I sit here and sow,  
I see that things are not in deed as to the outward show.  
And who so list to look and note things somewhat near:  
Shall find where plainness seems to haunt nothing but craft appear  
For with indifferent eyes myself can well discern,  
How some to guide a ship in storms seek for to take the stern.  
Whose practice if were proved in calm to steer a barge,  
Assuredly believe it well it were to great a charge.  
And some I see again sit still and say but small,  
That could do ten times more than they that say they can do all.  
Whose goodly gifts are such the more they understand,  
The more they seek to learn and know & take less charge in hand.  
And to declare more plain the time fleets not so fast:  
But I can bear full well in mind the song now sung and past.  
The author whereof came wrapped in a crafty cloak:  
With will to force a flaming fire where he could raise no smoke,  
If power and will had joined as it appeareth plain,  
The truth nor right had ta'en no place their virtues had been vain.  
So that you may perceive, and I may safely see,  
The innocent that guiltless is, condemned should have be.   

The constant lover lamenteth  
sin's fortune wrath envieth the wealth.  
wherein I reigned by the sight:  
Of that that fed rain eyes by stealth,  
With sour sweet, dread and delight.  
Let not my grief move you to moon,  
For I will weep and wail alone.  
Spite drove me into Borias' reign,  
Where hoary frosts the fruits do bite,  
When hills were spread and every plain:  
With stormy winter's mantle white.  
And yet my deer such was my heat,  
When others freze than did I sweat.  
And now though on the sun I drive,  
Whose fervent flame all things decay,  
His beams in brightness may not strive,  
With light of your sweet golden rays,  
Nor from my breast this heat remove,  
The frozen thoughts graven by love.  
Ne may the waves of the salt flood,  
Quench that your beauty set on fire,  
For though mine eyes forbear the food,  
That did relieve the hot desire.  
Such as I was such will I be,  
Your own, what would ye more of me?   

A song written by the earl of Surrey by a lady that refused to dance with him.  
Each beast can choose his fere according to his mind,  
And eke can show a friendly cheer like to their beastly kind.  
A Lion saw I late as white as any snow,  
Which seemed well to lead the race his port the same did show.  
Upon the gentle beast to gaze it pleased me,  
For still me thought he seemed well of noble blood to be,  
And as he pranced before, still seeking for a make,  
As who would say there is none here I trow will me forsake.  
I might perceive a Wolf as white as whales bone,  
A fairer beast of fresher hue beheld I never none.  
Save that her looks were coy, and froward eke her grace,  
Unto the which this gentle beast 'gan him advance apace.  
And with a beck full low he bowed at her feet,  
In humble wise as who would say I am to far unmeet.  
But such a scornful cheer wherewith she him rewarded,  
Was never seen I trow the like to such as well deserved.  
With that she start aside well near a foot or twain,  
And unto him thus 'gan she say with spite and great disdain.  
Lion she said if thou hadst known my mind before,  
Thou hadst not spent thy travail thus nor all thy pain forlore.  
noway I let thee weet thou shalt not play with me,  
Go range about where thou mayest find some meeter fere for thee.  
with that he bet his tail, his eyes began to flame,  
I might perceive his noble heart much moved by the same.  
Yet saw I him refrain and eke his wrath assuage,  
And unto her thus 'gan he say when he was past his rage.  
Cruel, you do me wrong to set me thus so light,  
Without desert for my good will to show me such despite.  
How can ye thus entreat a Lion of the race,  
That with his paws a crowned king devoured in the place:  
Whose nature is to pray upon no simple food,  
As long as he may suck the flesh, and drink of noble blood.  
If you be fair and fresh, am I not of your hue?  
And for my vaunt I dare well say my blood is not untrue.  
For you yourself have heard it is not long ago,  
Sith that for love one of the race did end his life in woe  
In tower strong and high for his assured truth,  
Whereas in tears he spent his breath, alas the more the ruth.  
This gentle beast so died whom nothing could remove,  
But willingly to lose his life for loss of his true love.  
Other there be whose lives do linger still in pain,  
Against their wills preserved at that would have died feign,  
But now I do perceive that nought it moveth you,  
My good intent, my gentle heart, nor yet my kind so true.  
But that your will is such to lure me to the trade,  
As other some full many years to trace by craft ye made.  
And thus behold our kinds how that we differ far.  
I seek my foes: and you your friends do threaten still with war  
I fawn where I am fled: you slay that seeks to you,  
I can devour no yielding pray: you kill where you subdue.  
My kind is to desire the honour of the field:  
And you with blood to slake your thirst on such as to you yield.  
Wherefore I would you witted that for your coyed looks,  
I am no man that will be trapped nor tangled with such hooks.  
And though some lust to love where blame full well they might,  
And to such beasts of currant sort that would have travail bright.  
I will observe the law that Nature gave to me,  
To conquer such as will resist and let the rest go free.  
And as a Falcon free that soreth in the air,  
Which never fed on hand nor lure, nor for no stolen doth care,  
While that I live and breathe such shall my custom be,  
In wildness of the woods to seek my prey where pleaseth me.  
where many one shall rue, that never made offence.  
Thus your refuse against my power shall boat them no defence.  
And for revenge thereof I vow and swear thereto,  
A thousand spoils I shall commit I never thought to do.  
And if to light on you my luck so good shall be,  
I shall be glad to feed on that that would have fed on me.  
And thus farewell unkind to whom I bend and bow,  
I would ye witted the ship is safe that bare his sails so low.  
Sith that a Lion's heart is for a Wolf no prey,  
With bloody mouth go slake your thirst on simple sheep I say,  
With more despite and ire than I can now express,  
Which to my pain though I refrain, the cause you may well guess.  
As for because myself was author of the game.  
It boots me not that for my wrath I should disturb the same.   

The faithful lover declareth his pains and his uncertain joys, and with only hope recomforteth somewhat his woeful heart.  
If care do cause men cry, why do not I complain?  
If each man do bewail his woe, why show not I my pain?  
Since that amongst them all I ●are well say is none,  
So far from weal, so full of woe, or hath more cause to moon.  
For all things having life sometime have quiet rest.  
The bearing ●sse, the drawing Ox, and every other beast.  
The peasant and the post, that serves at all assays,  
The shipboy and the galley slave have time to take their ●ase,  
Save I alas whom care of force doth so constrain  
To wail the day and wake the night continually in pain,  
From pensluenes to plaint, from plaint to bitter tears,  
From tears to painful plaint again: and thus my life it wears.  
No thing under the sun that I can hear or see,  
But moveth me for to bewail my cruel destiny.  
For where men do rejoice since that I can not so,  
I take no pleasure in that place, it doubleth but my wo.  
And when I hear the sound of song or instrument,  
Me think ech● tune there doleful is and helps me to lam●●t.  
And if I see some have their most desired sight,  
Alas think I each man hath weal save I most woeful wight.  
Then as the stricken Dear withdraws himself alone,  
So do I seek some secret place where I may make my mo●e.  
There do my flowing eyes show forth my melting heart,  
So that the streams of those two wells right well declare my s●●rt.  
And in those ●ares so cold I force myself a heat,  
As sick men in their shaking ●ittes procure themself to sweat,  
With thoughts that for the time do much appease my pain,  
But yet they cause a farther fear and breed my woe again.  
Me think within my thought I see right plain appear,  
My hearts delight my sorrows leche mine earthly goddess here,  
With every sundry grace that I have seen her have.  
Thus I within my woeful breast her picture paint and grave.  
And in my thought I roll her beauties to and fro,  
Her laughing cheer her lovely look my heart that pierced so.  
Her strangeness when I sued her servant for to be,  
And what she said and how she smiled when that she pitied me.  
Then comes a sudden fear that riveth all my rest  
Lest absence cause forgetfulness to sink with in her breast.  
For when I think how far this earth doth us divide.  
Alas me se●es love throws me down I feel how that I slide,  
But then I think again why should I thus mistrust,  
So sweet a wight so sad and wise that is so true and just,  
For loath she was to love, and wavering is she not.  
The farther of the more desired thus lovers tie their knot.  
So in despair and hope plunged am I both up an down,  
As is the ship with wind and wave when Neptune list to frown,  
But as the watery showers delay the raging wind,  
So doth good hope clean put away despair out of my mind.  
And bids me for to serve and suffer patiently,  
For what wots I the after weal that fortune wills to me.  
For those that care do know and tasted have of trouble,  
When passed is their woeful pain each joy shall seem them double.  
And bitter sends she now to make me taste the better,  
The pleasant sweet when that it comes to make it seem the sweeter,  
And so determine I to serve until my breath.  
Ye rather die a thousand times then once to false my faith.  
And if my feeble corpse through weight of woeful smart,  
Do fail or faint my will it is that still she keep my heart.  
And when this carcase here to earth shallbe refarde.  
I do bequeath my wearied ghost to serve her afterward.   

The means to attain happy life.  
MArtial, the things that do attain  
The happy life, be these, I find.  
The richesses left, not got with pain:  
The fruitful ground: the quiet mind:  
The equal friend, no grudge, no strife:  
No charge of rule, nor governance:  
Without disease the healthful life:  
The household of continuance:  
The mean diet, no delicate fare:  
True wisdom joined with simpleness:  
The night discharged of all care,  
where wine the wit may not oppress:  
The faithful wife, without debate:  
Such sleeps, as may beguile the night:  
Contented with thine own estate,  
Ne wish for death, ne fear his might.   

Praise of mean and constant estate.  
OF thy life, Thomas, this compass well mark:  
Not aye with full sails the high seas to beat:  
Ne by coward dread, in shonning storms dark,  
On shallow shores thy keel in peril fret.  
Who so gladly halseth the golden mean,  
Uoide of dangers advisdly hath his home  
Not with loathsome muck, as a den unclean:  
Nor palacelike, whereat disdain may glome.  
The lofty pine the great wind often rives:  
With violenter sway fal●e turrets step:  
Lightnings assault the high mountains, & clives,  
A heart well stayed, in overthwartes deep.  
Hopeth amends: in sweet, doth fear the sour.  
God, that sendeth, withdraweth winter sharp.  
Now ill, not aye thus: once Phoebus to lower  
With bow unbent shall cease, and frame to harp  
His voice. In strait estate appear thou stout:  
And so wisely, when lucky gale of wind  
All thy puffed sails shall fill, look w●ll about:  
Take in a rift: haste is waste, proof doth find.   

Praise of certain psalms of David, translated by sir T. w. the elder  
THe great Macedon, that out of Persle chased  
Darius, of whose huge power all Asie rung,  
In the rich ark dan Homer's rhymes he placed,  
who feigned gests of heathen prince's song.  
What holy grave? what worthy sepulture  
To Wiattes' Psalms should Christians then purchase?  
where he doth paint the lively faith, and pure,  
The steadfast hope, the sweet return to grace  
Of just David, by perfit penitence.  
Where rulers may see in a mirror clear  
The bitter fruit of false concupiscence:  
How jewry bought Urias death full dear.  
In prince's hearts Gods scourge imprinted deep,  
Ought them awake, out of their sinful sleep.   

Of the death of the same sir T. w.  
Divers thy death do diversly bemoan.  
Some, that in presence of thy livelyhed  
Lurked, whose breasts envy with hate had swollen,  
Yield Caesar's tears upon Pompeius' head,  
Some, that watched with the murderers knife,  
With eager thirst to drink thy guiltless blood,  
Whose practice broke by happy end of life,  
With envious tears to hear thy fame so good.  
But I, that knew what harboured in that head:  
What virtues rare were tempered in that breast:  
Honour the place, that such a jewel bred,  
And kiss the ground, whereas thy corpse doth rest,  
With vapord eyes: from whence such streams avail,  
As Pyramus did on Thisbe's breast bewail.   

Of the same.  
WResteth here, that quick could never rest:  
Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,  
And virtue sank the deeper in his breast.  
Such profit he by envy could obtain.  
A head, where wisdom mysteries did frame:  
Whose hammers bet still in that lively brain,  
As on a stithe: where that some work of fame  
Was daily wrought, to turn to Britain's gain.  
A visage, st●rn, and mild: where both did grow,  
Vice to contemn, in virtue to rejoice:  
Amid great storms, whom grace assured so,  
To live upright, and smile at fortune's choice.  
A hand, that taught, what might be said in rhyme:  
That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit:  
A mark, the which (unparfited, for time)  
Some may approach, but never none shall hit.  
A tongue, that served in foreign realms his king:  
whose courteous talk to virtue did inflame.  
Each noble heart: a worthy guide to bring  
Our English youth, by travail, unto fame.  
An eye, who●e judgement none affect could blind,  
Friends to allure, and foes to reconcile:  
Whose piercing look did represent a mind  
With virtue fraught, reposed, void of guile.  
A heart, where dread was never so impressed,  
To hide the thought, that might the troth advance:  
In neither fortune fit, nor yet repressed,  
To swell in wealth, or yield unto mischance,  
A valiant corpse, where force, and beauty met:  
Happy, alas, to happy, but for foes:  
Lived, and ran the race, that nature set:  
Of manhodes shape, where she the mould did lose.  
But to the heavens that simple soul is fled:  
Which left with such, as covet Christ to know,  
Witness of faith, that never shall be dead:  
Sent for our health, but not received so.  
Thus, for our guilt, this jewel have we lost:  
The earth his bones, the heavens possess his ghost.   

Of the same.  
IN the rude age when knowledge was not rife,  
If jove in Create and other were that taught.  
●rtes to convert to profit of one life,  
wend after death to have their temples sought,  
If virtue yet no void unthankful time,  
Failed of some to blast her endless fame,  
A goodly mean both to deter from crime:  
And to her steps our sequel to inflame,  
In days of truth if Wiates friends then wail,  
The only det that dead of quick may claim:  
That rare wit spent employed to our avail.  
where Christ is taught we led to virtues train.  
His lively face their breasts how did it fret,  
Whose cindres yet with envy they do eat.   

Of Sardanapalus dishonourable life, and miserable death.  
THassirian king in peace, with foul desire●  
And filthy lusts, that stained his regal heart  
In war that should set princely hearts on fire:  
Did yield, vanquished for want of martial art.  
The dint of sword from kisses seemed strange:  
And harder, than his lady's side, his targe:  
From glutton feasts, to so●ldiars far a change:  
His helmet, far above a garlands charge.  
Who scace the name of manhood did retain,  
Drenched in sloth, and womanish delight,  
Feeble of spirit, impatient of pain:  
When he had lost his honour, and his right:  
Proud, time of wealth● in storms appalled with dread,  
Murdered himself, to show some manful deed.   

How no age is content with his own estate, and how the age of children is the happiest, if they had skill to understand it.  
L●yd in my quiet bed, in study as I were,  
I saw within my troubled head, a heap of thoughts appear:  
And every thought did sheweso lively in mine eyes,  
That now I sighed, & then I smiled, as cause of thought did rise.  
I saw the little boy in thought, how oft that he  
Did wish of god, to scape the ●●d, a tall youngman to be.  
The youngman eke that feels, his bones with pains oppressed  
How he would be a rich old man, to live, and lie at rest.  
The rich oldman that sees his end draw on so sore,  
How he would be a boy again, to live so much the more.  
Whereat full oft I smiled, to see, how all these three,  
From boy to man, from man to boy, would chop & change degree.  
And musing thus I think, the case is very strange,  
That man from wealth, to live in woe, doth ever seek to change.  
Thus thoughtful as I lay, I saw my withered skin,  
How it doth show my dented chews, the flesh was worn so thyn●  
And eke my tothelesse chaps, the gates of my rightway,  
That opes and shuts, as I do speak, do thus unto me say:  
Thy white and horish hears, the messengers of age,  
That show, like lines of true belief, that this life doth assuage,  
Bids thee lay hand, and feel them hanging on thy chin:  
The which do write two ages past, the third now coming in.  
Hang up therefore the bit of thy young wanton time:  
And thou that therein beaten art, the happiest life define,  
Whereat I sighed, and said, farewell, my wonted●ioy:  
Truss up thy pack, and trudge from me to every little boy:  
And tell them thus from me, their time most happy is:  
If, to their time, they reason had to know the truth of this.   

Bonum est mihi quod humiliasti me.  
THe storms are passed these clouds are overblown,  
And humble cheer great rigour hath repressed:  
For the default is set a pain foreknown,  
And patience grafted in a determed breast.  
And in the heart where heaps of griefs were grown,  
The sweet revenge hath planted mirth and rest,  
No company so pleasant as mine own.  
Thraldom at large●hath made this prison fire,  
Danger well past remembered works delight:  
Of lingering doubts such hope is sprung pardie,  
That nought I find displeasant in my sight:  
But when my glass presented unto me:  
The cureless wound that bleedeth day and night,  
To think (alas) such hap should granted be  
Unto a wretch that hath no heart to fight,  
To spill that blood that hath so oft been shed,  
For Britannes' sake (alas) and now is ded.   

Exhortation to learn by others trouble.  
MY Ratcl●f, when thy reckless youth offends:  
receive thy scourge by others chastisement.  
For such calling, when it works none amends:  
Then plagues are sent without advertisement.  
Yet Solomon said, the wronged shall recure:  
But Wia● said true, the scar doth aye endure.   

The fancy of a wearied lover.  
THe fancy, which that I have served long,  
That hath always been enemy to mine ease,  
Seemed of late to rue upon my wrong,  
And bade me fly the cause of my misease.  
And I forthwith did press out of the throng,  
That thought by flight my painful heart to please  
Some other way: till I saw faith more strong:  
And to myself I said: alas, those days  
In vain were spent, to run the race so long.  
And with that thought, I met my guide, that plain  
Out of the way wherein I wandered wrong,  
Brought me amids the hills, in base Bullayn:  
Where I am now, as restless to remain,  
Against my will, full plea●ed with my pain.  SURREY.  

The lover for shamefastness hideth his desire within his faithful heart.  
THe long love, that in my thought I harbour,  
And in my heart doth keep his residence,  
Into my face presseth with bold pretence,  
And there campeth, displaying his banner.  
She that me learns to love, and to suffer,  
And wills that my trust, and lusts negligence  
Be reined by reason, shame, and reverence,  
With his hardiness takes displeasure.  
Wherewith love to the hearts forest he fleeth,  
Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry,  
And there him hideth and not appeareth.  
What may I do? when my master feareth,  
But in the field with him to live and die,  
For good is the life, ending faithfully.   

The lover waxeth wiser, and will not die for affection.  
YEt was I never of your love aggrieved,  
Nor never shall, while that my life doth last:  
But of hating myself, that date is past,  
And tears continual sore hath me wearied.  
I will not yet in my grave be buried,  
Nor on my tomb your name have fixed fast,  
As cruel cause, that did my spirit soon haste.  
From th'unhappy bones by great sighs stirred,  
Then if an heart ●f amorous faith and will  
Content your mind withouten doing grief:  
Please it you so to this to do relief,  
If other wise you seek for to fulfil  
●our wrath: you err, and shall not as you ween.  
〈◊〉 you yourself the cause thereof have been.   

The abused lover seeth his folly, and intendeth to trust no more.  
WAs never file yet half so well yfiled,  
To file a file for any smith's intent,  
As I was made a filing instrument,  
To frame other, while that I was beg●led.  
But reason loc, hath at my folly smiled,  
And pardoned me, sins that I me repent  
Of my last years, and of my time misspent.  
For youth led me, and falsehood me misguided.  
Yet, this trust I have of great appearance:  
Sins that deceit is ay returnable,  
Of very force it is agreeable,  
That therewithal be done the recompense.  
Then guile beguiled playnd should be never,  
And the reward is little trust for ever.   

The lover describeth his being stricken with sight of his love.  
THe lively sparks, that issue from those eyes,  
Against the which there va●●eth no defence,  
Have pierced my heart, and done it none offence,  
With quaking pleasure, more than once or twice.  
Was never man could any thing devise,  
Sun beams to turn with so great vehemence  
To dase man's sight, as by their bright presence  
Dazed am I, much like unto the gise  
Of one stricken with dint of lightning,  
Blind with the stroke, and crying here and there,  
So call I for help, I not when, nor where,  
The pain of my fall patiently bearing.  
For straight after the blaze (as is no wonder)  
Of deadly noise h●are I the fearful thunder.   

The wavering lover willeth, and dreadeth, to move his desire.  
SUch vain thought, as wonted to misled me  
In desert hope by well assured moan,  
Makes me from company to live alone,  
In following her whom reason bids me flee.  
And after her my heart would feign begone:  
But armed sighs my way do stop anon.  
Twixt hope and dread locking my liberty.  
So fleeth she by gentle cruelty.  
Yet as I guess under disdainful brow  
One beam of ruth is in her cloudy look:  
which comforts the mind, that erst for fear shook.  
That bolded strait the way then seek I how  
To utter forth the smart I bide within:  
But such it is, I not how to begin.   

The lover having dreamt enjoying of his love, complaineth that the dream is not either longer or truer.  
Unstable dream according to the place,  
Be steadfast ones, or else at least be true.  
By tasted sweetness, make me not to rue  
The sudden loss of thy false feigned grace.  
By good respect in such a dangerous case  
Thou broughtest not her into these tossing seas,  
But madest my spirit to live my care t'increase,  
My body in tempest her delight t'embraceembrace,  
The body dead, the spirit had his desire.  
Painless was th'one, the other in delight.  
Why then alas did it not keep it right,  
But thus return to leap into the fire:  
And where it was at wish, could not remain?  
Such mocks of dreams do turn to deadly pain●.   

The lover unhappy biddeth happy lovers rejoice in May, while he waileth that month to him most unlucky.  
YE that in love find luck and sweet abundance,  
And live in lust of joyful jollity,  
Arise for shame, do way your sluggardy:  
Arise I say, do May some observance.  
Let me in bed lie, dreaming of mischance.  
Let me remember my mishaps unhappy.  
That me betid in May most commonly:  
As one whom love list little to advance.  
Stephan said true, that my nativity  
Mischanced was with the ruler of May.  
He guessed (I prove) of that the verity.  
In May my wealth, and eke my wits, I say,  
Have stand so oft in such perplexity.  
joy: let me dream of your felicity.   

The lover confesseth him in love with Phillis.  
IF waker care: if sudden pale colour:  
If many sighs, with little speech to plain:  
Now joy, now woe: if they my there distain:  
For hope of small, if much to fear therefore,  
To haste, or slack: my pace to less, or more:  
Be sign of love: then do I love again.  
If thou ask whom: sure sins I did refrain  
Brunet, that set my wealth in such a roar,  
Thunfayned cheer of Phillis hath the place,  
That Brunet had: she hath, and ever shall:  
She from myself now hath me in her grace:  
She hath in hand my wit, my will, and al●  
My heart alone well worthy she doth stay,  
Without whose help scant do I live a day.   

Of others feigned sorrow, and the lovers feigned mi●th.  
CEsar, when that the traitor of Egypt  
with thonourable head did him present,  
Covering his hearts gladness, did represent  
Plaint with his tears outward, as it is writ.  
Eke Hannibal, when fortune him out shit  
Clean from his reign, and from all his intent,  
Laughed to his folk, whom sorrow did torment,  
His cruel despite for to disgorge and quit.  
So chanceth me, that every passion  
The mind hideth by colour contrary,  
With feigned visage, now sad, now merry.  
Whereby, if that I laugh at any season:  
It is because I have none other way  
To cloak my care, but under sport and play.   

Of change in mind.  
Each man me telleth, I change most my devise:  
And, on my ●aith, me think it good reason  
To change purpose, like after the season.  
For in each case to keep still one gui●e  
Is meet for them, that would be taken wise.  
And I am not of such manner condition:  
But treated after a divers fashion:  
And thereupon my diverseness doth rise.  
But you, this diverseness that blamen most,  
Change you no more, but still after one rate  
Treat you me well: and keep you in that state.  
And while with me doth dwell this wearied ghost,  
My word nor I shall not be va●iable.  
But always one, your own both firm and stable.   

How the lover perisheth in his delight, as the fly in the fire.  
SOme fowls there be that have so perfect sight,  
Against the sun their eyes for to defend:  
And some, because the light doth them offend,  
Never appear, but in the dark, or night.  
Other rejoice, to see the fire so bright,  
And ween to play in it, as they pretend:  
But find contrary of it, that they intent.  
Alas, of that sort may I be, by right.  
For to withstand her look I am not able:  
Yet can I not hide me in no dark place:  
So followeth me remembrance of that face:  
That with my teary eyen, swollen, and unstable,  
My destiny to behold her doth me lead:  
And yet I know, I run into the glead.   

Against his tongue that failed to utter his suits.  
BEcause I still kept thee fro lies, and blame●  
And to my power always thee honoured,  
Unkind tongue, to ill hast thou me rendered,  
For such desert to do me wreak and shame.  
In need of succour most when that I am,  
To ask reward: thou stand'st like one afraid,  
Always most cold: and if one word be said,  
As in a dream, unperfit is the same.  
And ye salt tears, against my will each night,  
That are with me, when I would be alone:  
Then are ye gone, when I should make my moan.  
And ye so ready sighs, to make me shright,  
Then are ye slack, when that ye should outstart●  
And only doth my look declare my heart.   

Description of the contrarious passions in a lover.  
I Find no peace, and all my war is done:  
I feare● and hope: I burn, and freeze like ice:  
I fly aloft, yet can I not arise:  
And nought I have, and all the world I season.  
That locks not loseth, holdeth me in prison,  
And holds me not, yet can I scape no wise:  
Nor lets me live, nor die, at my devise,  
And yet of death it giveth me occasion.  
Without eye I see, without tongue I plain:  
I wish to perish, yet I ask for health:  
I love another, and I hate myself.  
I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain.  
Lo, thus displeaseth me both death and life.  
And my delight is causer of this strife.   

The lover compareth his state to a ship in perilous storm tossed on the sea.  
MY galley charged with forgetfulness,  
Through sharp seas, in winter nights doth pass,  
Tween rock, and rock: and eke my foe (alas)  
That is my lord, steereth with cruelness:  
And every hour, a thought in readiness,  
As though that death were light, in such a case.  
An endless wind doth tear the sail apace  
Of forced sighs, and trusty fearfulness.  
A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain  
Have done the wearied cords great hindrance,  
Wreathed with error, and with ignorance.  
The stars be hid, that lead me to this pain.  
drowned is reason that should be my comfort:  
And I remain, dispearing of the port.   

Of doubtful love.  
Auising the bright beams of those fair eyes,  
Where he abides that mine oft moi●tes and washeth:  
The wearied mind straight from the heart departeth,  
To rest within his worldly Paradise,  
And bitter finds the sweet, under his gise.  
What webs there he hath wrought, well he perceiveth  
Whereby then with himself on love he plaineth,  
That spurs with fire, and bridleth eke with ice.  
In such extremity thus is he brought:  
Frozen now cold, and now he stands in flame:  
Twixt woe and wealth: betwixt earnest and game:  
With seldom glad, and many a divers thought:  
In sore repentance of his hardiness,  
Of such a root lo cometh fruit fruitless.   

The lover showeth how he is forsaken of such as he sometime enjoyed.  
THey flee from me, that sometime did me seek  
With naked foot stalking within my chamber.  
Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,  
That now are wild, and do not once remember  
That sometime they have put themselves in danger,  
To take bread at my hand, and now they range,  
Busily seeking in continual change.  
Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise  
Twenty times better: but once especial,  
In thin array, after a pleasant gise,  
When her lose gown did from her shoulders fall,  
And she me caught in her arms long and small,  
And therewithal, so sweetly did me kiss,  
And softly said: dear heart how like you this?  
It was no dream: for I lay broad awaking.  
But all is turned now through my gentleness,  
Into a bitter fashion of forsaking.  
And I have leave to go of her goodness,  
And she also to use newfangleness.  
But, sins that I unkindly so am served:  
How like you this, what hath she now deserved?   

To a lady to answer directly with yea or nay.  
Madam, withouten many words:  
Once I am sure, you will, or no.  
And if you will: then leave your boards,  
And use your wit, and show it so:  
For with a beck you shall me call.  
And if of one, that burns always,  
Ye have pity or ruth at all:  
Answer him fair with yea, or nay.  
If it be yea: I shall be feign.  
If it be nay: friends, as before.  
You shall another man obtain:  
And I mine own, and yours no more.   

To his love whom he had kissed against her will.  
ALas, Madam, for stealing of a kiss,  
Have I so much your mind therein offended?  
Or have I done so grievously amiss:  
That by no means it may not be amended?  
Revenge you then, the readiest way is this:  
Another kiss my life it shall have ended.  
For, to my mouth the first my heart did suck:  
The next shall clean out of my breast it pluck.   

Of the jealous man that loved the same woman and espied this other sitting with her.  
THe wandering gadling, in the summer tide,  
That finds the Adder with his reckless foot●  
Starts not dismayed so suddenly aside,  
As jealous despite did, though there were no boot,  
When that he saw me sitting by her side,  
That of my health is very crop, and root,  
It pleased me then to have so fair a grace,  
To sting the heart, that would have had my place,   

To his love from whom he had her gloves.  
WHat needs these threatening words, and wasted wind?  
All this can not make me restore my prey.  
To rob your good iwis is not my mind:  
Nor causeless your fair hand did I display,  
Let love be judge: or else whom next we find:  
That may both hear, what you and I can say.  
She rest my heart: and I a glove from her:  
Let us see then if one be worth the other.   

Of the feigned friend.  
RIght true it is, and said full yore ago:  
Take heed of him, that by the back thee claweth.  
For, none is worse, then is a friendly foe.  
Though thee seem good, all thing that thee delighteth:  
Yet know it well, that in thy bosom creepeth.  
For, many a man such ●ixe oft times he kindleth:  
That with the blaze his beard himself he singeth.   

The lover taught, mistrusteth allurements.  
IT may be good like it who list:  
But I do doubt, who can me blame?  
For oft assured, yet have I missed:  
And now again I fear the same.  
The words, that from your mouth last came,  
Of sudden change make me aghast.  
For dread to fall, I stand not fast.  
Alas I tre●d an endless maze:  
That seek taccord two contraries:  
And hope thus still, and nothing hast:  
Imprisoned in liberties,  
As one unheard, and still that cries:  
Always thirsty, and nought doth taste,  
For dread to fall, I stand not fast.  
Assured I doubt I be not sure,  
Should I then trust unto such surety?  
That oft have put the proof in ure,  
And never yet have found it trusty?  
Nay sir in faith, it were great folly.  
And yet my life thus do I wast,  
For dread to fall I stand not fast.   

The lover complaineth that his love doth not pity him.  
REsownde my voice ye woods, that hear me plain:  
Both hills and vales causing reflection,  
And rivers eke, record ye of my pain:  
Which have oft for●ed ye by compassion,  
As judges lo to hear my exclamation.  
Among whom, ruth (I finder yet doth remain.  
Where I it seek, alas, there is disdain.  
Oft ye rivers, to hear my wo●ull sound,  
Have stopped your course, and plainly to express,  
Many a tear by moisture of the ground  
The earth hath wept to hear my heaviness:  
Which causeless I endure without redress.  
The hugy oaks have roared in the wind,  
Each thing me thought complaining in their kind.  
Why then alas d●th not she on me rue,  
Or is her heart so hard that no pity  
May in it sink, my joy for to renews  
O stony heart who hath thus framed thee  
So cruelly that art cloaked with beauty,  
That from thee may no grace to m● proceed.  
But as reward death for to be my m●de.   

The lover rejoiceth against fortune that by hindering his suit had happily made him forsake his folly●  
IN faith I wots not what to say,  
Thy chances been so wondrous,  
Thou fortune with thy divers play  
That mak'st the joyful dolorous,  
And eke the same right joyous.  
Yet though thy chain hath me enwrapped  
Spite of thy hap, hap hath well happed.  
Though thou hast set me for a wonder,  
And seekest by change to do me pain:  
men's minds yet mayst thou not so order.  
For honesty if it remain,  
Shall shine for all thy cloudy rain.  
In vain thou seekest to have me trapped,  
Spite of thy hap, hap hath well happed.  
In hindering me, me didst thou further,  
And made a gap where was a style.  
Cruel wills been oft put under.  
weening to lower, than didst thou smile,  
Lord, how thyself thou didst beguile,  
That in thy cares wouldst me have wrapped?  
But spite of hap, hap hath well happed.   

A renouncing of hardly escaped love  
FArewell the heart of cruelty.  
Though that with pain my liberty  
Dear have I bought, and woefully  
Finished my fearful tragedy,  
Of force I must forsake such pleasure:  
A good cause just, sins I endure  
Thereby my woe, which be ye sure,  
Shall therewith go me to recure.  
I far as one escaped that fleeth,  
Glad he is gone, and yet still feareth  
Spied to be caught, and so dreadeth  
That he for nought his pain loseth.  
In joyful pain rejoice my heart,  
Thus to sustain of each a part.  
Let not this song from thee astart,  
Welcome among my pleasant smart.   

The lover to his bed, with describing of his unquiet state.  
THe restful place, renewer of my smart:  
The labours salve, increasing my sorrow:  
The body's case, and troubler of my heart:  
Quieter of mind, mine unquiet so:  
Forgetter of pain, remembrer of my woe:  
The place of sleep, wherein I do but wake:  
Besprent with tears, my bed, I thee forsake.  
The frosty snows may not redress my heat:  
Nor heat of sun abate my fervent cold.  
I know nothing to ease my pains so great.  
Each cure causeth increase by twenty fold.  
Renewing cares upon my sorrows old.  
Such overthwart effects in me they make.  
Besprent with tears my bed for to forsake.  
But all for nought: I find no better ease  
In bed, or out. This most causeth my pain:  
Where I do seek how best that I may please,  
My lost labour (alas) is all in vain.  
My heart once set, I can not it refrain.  
No place from me my grief away can take.  
Wherefore with tears, my bed I thee forsake.   

Comparison of love to a stream falling from the Alps.  
FRom these high hills as when a spring doth fall,  
It trilleth down with still and subtle course,  
Of this and that it gathers ay and shall,  
Till it have just down flowed to stream and force:  
Then at the foot it rageth over all.  
So fareth love, when he hath ●ane a source.  
Rage is his rain. Resistance vaileth none.  
The first eschew is remedy alone.   

wiates complaint upon Love, to Reason: with loves answer.  
MIne old dear enemy, my froward master,  
A fore that Queen, I caused to be acited,  
Which holdeth the divine part of our nature,  
That, like as gold, in fire he mought be tried.  
Charged with dolour, there I me presented  
With horrible fear, as one that greatly dreadeth  
A wrongful death, and justice always seeketh  
And thus I said: Once my left foot, Madam,  
When I was young, I set within his reign:  
Whereby other then firely durning flame  
I never felt, but many a grievous pain.  
Torment I suffered, anger, and disdain:  
That mine oppressed patience was past,  
And I mine own life hated, at the last.  
Thus hitherto have I my time passed  
In pain and smart. What ways profitable:  
How many pleasant days have me escaped,  
In serving this false liar so deceivable?  
what wit have words so priest and forcible,  
That may contain my great mishappynesse,  
And just complaints of his ungentleness?  
So small honey, much aloes, and gall,  
In bitterness, my blind life hath ytasted.  
His false semblance, that turneth as a ball:  
With fair and amorous dance, made me be traced,  
And, where I had my thought, and mind araced,  
From earthly frailness, and from vain pleasure,  
Me from my rest he took, and set in error:  
God made he me regardless, than I ought,  
And to myself to take right ●itle heed:  
And for a woman have I set at nought  
All other thoughts: in this only to speed.  
And he was only counselor of this deed:  
whetting always my youthly frail desire  
On cruel whetston, tempered with fire.  
But (Oh alas) where, had I ever wit●  
Or other gift, given to me of nature?  
That sooner shallbe changed my wearied spirit:  
Then the obstinate will, that is my ruler.  
So robbeth he my freedom with displeasure,  
This wicked traitor, whom I thus accuse:  
That bitter life hath turned in pleasant use.  
He hath me hasted, through divers regions:  
Through desert woods, and sharp high mountains:  
Through froward people, and through bitter passion●●  
Through rocky seas, and over hills and plains:  
With weary travel, and with laborious pains:  
Always in trouble and in tediousness:  
All in error, and dangerous distress.  
But neither he, nor she, my other so,  
For all my flight, did ever me forsake:  
That though my timely death hath been to slow  
That me as yet, it hath not overtake:  
The heavenly Gods of pity do it slake.  
And, note they this his cruel tyranny,  
That feeds him, with my care, and misery.  
Sins I was his, hour rested I never,  
Nor look to do: and eke the waky nights  
The baneshed sleep may in no wise recover.  
By guile, and force, over my thralled spirits,  
He is ruler: sins which bell never strikes,  
That I hear not as sounding to renew  
My plaints. Himself, be knoweth, that I say true.  
For never worms old rotten stock have eaten:  
As he my heart, where he is resident  
And doth the same with death daily threaten.  
Thenc●●ome the tears, and thence the bitter torments  
The sighs: the words, and eke the languishment:  
That noy both me, and peraventure other.  
judge thou: that knowest the one, and eke the t'other,  
Mine adversair, with such grievous reproof,  
Thus he began Hear Lady, tother part:  
That the plain troth, from which he draweth aloof,  
This unkind man may show, ere that I part.  
In his young age, I took him from that art,  
That selleth words, and makes a clattering knight:  
And of my wealth I gave him the delight.  
Now shames he n●t on me for to complain,  
That held him evermore in pleasant gain,  
From his desire● that might have been his pain.  
Yet thereby alone I brought him to some frame:  
Which now as wretchedness, he doth so blame:  
And toward honour quickened I his wit:  
Whereas a daskard else he mought have sit  
He knoweth, how great Atride that made Troy fret,  
And Hannibal, to Rome so troublous:  
Whom Homer honoured, A chill that great,  
And Thaffricane Scipion the famous:  
And many other, by much honour glorious:  
Whose fame, and acts did lift them up above:  
I did let fall in base dishonest love.  
And unto him, though he unworthy were:  
I chose the best of many a Million:  
That, under sun yet never was her peer,  
Of wisdom, womanhod, and of discretion:  
And of my grace I gave her such a fashion,  
And eke such way I taught her for to teach,  
That never base thought his heart so high might reach.  
Evermore thus to content his mistress,  
That was his only frame of honesty,  
I stirred him still toward gentleness:  
And caused him to regard fidelity.  
Patience I taught him in adversity.  
Such virtues learned he in my great school:  
Whereof repenteth now the ignorant fool.  
These were the same diceites, and bitter gall,  
That I have used, the torment and the anger:  
sweeter, than ever did to other fall,  
Of right good seed ill fruit lo thus I gather.  
And so shall he, that the unkind doth further.  
A Serpent nourish I under my wing:  
And now of nature, ginneth he to sting.  
And for to tell, at last, my great service.  
From thousand dishonesties have I him drawn:  
That, by my means, him in no manner wise.  
Ne●e● vile pleasure once hath overthrown.  
whe●●, in his deed, shame hath him always gnawn:  
D●●ting r●port, that should come to her ear:  
Whom now he blames, her wont he to fear.  
What ever he hath of any honest custom:  
Of her, and me: that holds he every whit,  
But, lo, yet never was there nightly fantome  
So far in error, as he is from his wit.  
To plain on us, he striveth with the bit,  
Which may rule him, and do him ease, and pain:  
And in one hour, make all his grief his gain,  
But, one thing ●●t there is, above all other:  
I gave him winds, wherewith he might upflie  
To honour and fame: and if he would to higher  
Than mortal things, above the starry s●ie:  
Considering the pleasure, that an eye  
Might give in earth, by reason of the love:  
what should that be that lasteth still above?  
And he the same himself hath said ere this.  
But now, forgotten is both that and I,  
That gave her him, his only wealth and bliss.  
And, at this word, with deadly shreke and cry.  
Thou gave her once: quoth I, but by and by  
Thou took her again from me: that woe worth the.  
Not I but price: more worth than thou (quoth he.)  
At last: each other for himself, concluded:  
I, trembling still: but he, with small reverence.  
Lo, thus, as we each other have accused:  
Dear Lad●: now we wait thine only sentence.  
She smiling, at the whi●ted audience:  
It liketh me (quoth she) to have heard your question:  
But, longer time doth as● a resolution.   

The lovers sorrowful state maketh him write sorrowful songs, but (Souche) his love may change the same.  
Marvel no more although  
The songs, I sing do moan:  
For other life then woe,  
I never proved none.  
And in my heart also,  
Is graven with letters d●●e  
A thousand sighs and more:  
A flood of tears to weep.  
How may a man in smart  
Find matter to rejoice?  
How may a morning heart  
Set forth a pleasant voice.  
Play who so can● that part:  
Needs must in me appear:  
How fortune overthwart  
Doth cause my morning cheer.  
pardie there is no man,  
If he saw never sight:  
That perfectly tell can  
The nature of the ●ight.  
Alas: how should I than,  
That never taste but sour:  
But do, as I began,  
Continually to lower.  
But yet perchance some chance  
May chance to change my tune:  
And when (Souch) chance doth chance:  
Then shall I thank fortune.  
And if I have (Souch) chance:  
Perchance ere it be ●ong:  
For (Souch) a pleasant chance.  
To sing some pleasant song.   

The lover complaineth himself forsaken.  
WHere shall I have, at mine own will.  
Tears to complain? Where shall I set  
Such sighs? that I may sigh my fill:  
And then again my plaints repeat.  
For, though my plaint shall have none end:  
My tears cannot suffice my wo.  
To moon my harm, have I no friend,  
For fortune's friend is mishaps foe.  
Comfort (God wots) else have I none:  
But in the wind to waste my words,  
Nought moveth you my deadly moan:  
But still you turn it into boards.  
I speak not, now, to move your heart,  
That you should rue upon my pain:  
The sentence given may not revert:  
I know, such labour were but vain.  
But sins that I for you (my dear)  
Have lost that thing, that was my best:  
A right small loss it must appear,  
To lose these words, and all the rest.  
But, though they sparkle in the wind:  
Yet, shall they show your falsed faith:  
Which is returned to his kind:  
For like to like: the proverb saith,  
Fortune● and you did me advance.  
Me thought, I swum, and could not drown:  
Happiest of all, but my mischance  
Did lift me up, to throw me down.  
And you, with her, of cruelness,  
Did set your foot upon my neck,  
Me, and my welfare to oppress:  
without offence your heart to wreck.  
Where are your pleasant words? alas:  
where is your faith? your steadfastness?  
There is no more: but all doth pass:  
And I am left all comfortless.  
But sins so much it doth you grieve,  
And also me my wretched life:  
Have here my troth: Nought shall relieve,  
But death alone my wretched strife.  
Therefore, farewell my life my death,  
My gain, my loss: my salve my sore:  
Farewell also, with you my breath:  
For, I am gone for evermore.   

Of his love that pricked her finger with a needle.  
SHe sat, and sowed: that hath done me the wrong:  
Whereof I plain, and have done in my ● day.  
And, whilst she heard my pl●in●, in p●●eous song:  
She wished my heart the sampler, that it lay●  
The blind master, whom I have served so long:  
Grudging to hear, that he did hear her say:  
Made her own weapon do her finger bleed:  
To feel, if pricking were so good in deed.   

Of the same.  
WHat man hath heard such cruelty before?  
That, when my plaint remembered her my woe,  
That caused it: she cruel more and more,  
Wished each stitch, as she did sit and sow,  
Had pricked my heart, for to increase my sore,  
And, as I think, she thought it had been so.  
For as she thought, this is his heart in deed:  
She pricked hard: and made herself to bleed.   

Request to Cupid for revenge of his unkind love.  
BEhold, Love, thy power how she despiseth:  
My grievous pain how little she regardeth,  
The solemn oath, whereof she takes no cure,  
Broken she hath: and yet, she bideth sure,  
Right at her ease, and little thee she dr●d●●h.  
Weaponed thou art, and she unarmed sittest  
To thee disdainful, all her l●fe she leade●●●  
To me spiteful, without just cause, or m●●sure.  
Behold Love, how proudly she triumpheth,  
I am in hold, but if thee pity moveth:  
Go, bend thy bow, that stony hearts breaketh:  
And with some stroke revenge the great displeasure  
Of thee, and him that sorrow doth endure,  
And as his Lord thee lowly here entreateth.   

Complaint for true love unrequited.  
WHat vaileth troth? or by it, to take pain  
To strive by steadfastness, for to attain  
How to be just: and flee from doubleness?  
Since all alike, where ruleth carftinesse,  
Rewarded is both crafty false, and plain.  
Soon he spedes, that most can lie and fain.  
True meaning heart is had in hi● disdain.  
Against deceit, and cloaked doubleness,  
What vaileth troth, or perfect steadfastness.  
Deceived is he, by false and crafty train,  
That means no guile, and faithful doth remain  
Within the trapped, without help or redress.  
But for to love (lo) such a stern mistress,  
Where cruelty dwells, alas it were in vain.   

The lover that fled love, now follows it with his harm.  
Sometime I fled the fire, that me so brent,  
By sea, by land, by water, and by wind:  
And now, the coals I follow, that be quent,  
From Dover to Calas, with willing mind,  
Lo, how desire is both forth sprung, and spent:  
And he may see, that whilom was so blind:  
And all his labour, laughs he now to scorn,  
Meashed in the breers, that erst was only torn.   

The lover hopeth of better chance.  
HE is not dead, that sometime had a fall.  
The Sun returnest that hid was under cloud.  
And when Fortune hath spit out all her gall,  
I trust, good luck to me shall be aloud.  
For, I have seen a ship in haven fall,  
After that storm hath broke both mast, & shroud,  
The willow eke, that stoopeth with the wind,  
Doth rise again, and greater wood doth bind.   

The lover compareth his heart to the overcharged gone.  
THe furious goonne, in his most raging ire.  
When that the bowl is rammed into sore:  
And that the flame cannot part from the fire●  
Cracks in sunder: and in the air do roar  
The shivered pieces. So doth my desire,  
Whose flame increaseth ay from more to more.  
Which to let out, I dare not look, nor speak:  
So inward force my heart doth all to break.   

The lover suspected of change prayeth that it be not believed against him.  
ACcused though I be, without desert:  
Sith none can prove, believe it not for true●  
For never yet, since that you had my heart,  
Intended I to false, or be untrue.  
Sooner I would of death sustain the smart,  
Than break one word of that I promised you●  
Accept therefore my service in good part.  
None is alive, that can ill tongues eschew.  
Hold them as false: and let not us departed  
Our friendship old, in hope of any new.  
Put not thy trust in such as use to fain,  
Except thou mind to put thy friend to pain.   

The lover abused renownseth love.  
MY love to scorn, my service to retain,  
Therein (me thought) you used cruelty.  
Since with good will I lost my liberty,  
Might never woe yet cause me to refrain,  
But only this, which is extremity,  
To give me nought (alas) nor to agree,  
That as I was, your man I might remain.  
But since that thus ye list to order me,  
That would have been your servant true & fast:  
Displease you not: my doting time is past.  
And with my loss to leave I must agree.  
For as there is a certain time to rage:  
So is there time such madness to assuage.   

The lover professeth himself constant.  
WIthin my breast I never thought it gain●  
Of gentle minds the freedom for to lose  
Nor in my heart sanck never such disdain,  
To be a forger, faults for to disclose.  
Nor I can not endure the truth to gloze,  
To set a gloss upon an earnest pain.  
Nor I am not in number one of those,  
That list to blow retreat to every train,   

The lover sendeth his complaints and tears to sue for grace.  
Pass forth my wont cries,  
Those cruel cares to pierce,  
which in most hateful wise  
Do still my plaints reverse.  
Do you, my tears, also  
So wet her barren heart:  
That pity there may grow,  
And cruelty departed.  
For though hard rocks among  
She seems to have been bred:  
And of the Tiger long  
Been nourished, and fed.  
Yet shall that nature change,  
If pity once win place.  
Whom as unknown, and strange,  
She now away doth chase.  
And as the water soft,  
Without forcing or strength,  
where that it falleth oft,  
Hard stones doth pierce at length:  
So in her stony heart  
My plaints at last shall grave,  
And, rigour set apart,  
Win grant of that I crave.  
Wherefore my plaints, present  
Still so to her my suit,  
As ye, through her assent,  
May bring to me some ●rute.  
And as she shall me prove,  
So bid her me regard,  
And render love for love:  
Which is a just reward.   

The lovers case can not be hidden how ever he dissemble.  
YOur looks so often cast,  
Your eyes so friendly rolled,  
Your sight fixed so fast,  
Always one to behold.  
though hide i● fain ye would:  
It plainly doth declare,  
Who hath your heart in hold,  
And where good will ye bare,  
Fayn would ye find a cloak  
Your brenning fire to hide:  
Yet both the flame, and smoke  
Breaks out on every side.  
Ye can not love so guide,  
That it no issue winnne.  
Abroad needs must it glide,  
That brens' so hot within.  
For cause yourself do wink,  
Ye judge all other blind:  
And secret it you think,  
Which every man doth find.  
In waste oft spend ye wind  
Yourself in love to quit,  
For agues of that kind  
Will show, who hath the fit.  
Your sighs you set from far,  
And all to wry your woe:  
Yet are ye near the narre,  
Men are not blinded so.  
Deeply oft swear ye no:  
But all those oaths are vain.  
So well your eye doth show,  
Who puts your heart to pain.  
Think not therefore to hide,  
That still itself betrays:  
Nor seek means to provide  
To dark the sunny days.  
Forget those wont ways:  
Leave of such frowning cheer:  
There will be found no sta●es  
To stop a thing so clear.   

The lover p●aieth not be disdained, refused, mistrusted, nor forsaken.  
Disdain me not without desert:  
Nor leave me not so suddenly:  
Since well ye wots, that in my heart  
I mean ye not but honestly.  
Refuse me not without cause why:  
For think me not to be unjust:  
Since that by lot of fantasy,  
This careful knot needs knit I must.  
Mistrust me not, though some there be,  
That feign would spot my steadfastness:  
Believe them not, sins that ye see,  
The proof is not, as they express.  
Forsake me not, till I deserve:  
Nor hate me not, till I offend.  
Destroy me not, till that I swerver.  
But sins ye know what I intent:  
Disdain me not that am your own:  
Refuse me not that am so true:  
Mistrust me not till all be known:  
Forsake me not, now for no new.   

The lover lamenteth his estate with suit for grace.  
FOr want of will, in woe I plain:  
Under colour of soberness.  
Renewing with my suit my pain,  
My wanhope with your steadfastness.  
Awake therefore of gentleness.  
Regard at length, I you require,  
My swelting pains of my desire.  
Betimes who giveth willingly,  
Redoubled thanks aye doth deserve.  
And I that sue unfeignedly,  
In fruitless hope (alas) do starve.  
How great my cause is for to swerver:  
And yet how steadfast is my suit:  
Lo, here ye see, where is the fruit?  
As hound that hath his keeper lost,  
Seek I your presence to obtain:  
In which my heart delighteth most,  
And shall delight though I be slain.  
You may release my band of pain.  
Lose then the care that makes me cry●  
For want of help or else I die.  
I die, though not incontinent,  
By process yet consumingly  
As waste of fire, which doth relent.  
If you as wilful will deny.  
wherefore cease of such cruelty:  
And take me wholly in your grace:  
Which lacketh will to change his place.   

The lover waileth his changed joys.  
IF every man might him avaunt  
Of fortunes friendly cheer:  
It was myself I must it grant,  
For I have bought it dear.  
And dearly have I held also  
The glory of her name:  
In yielding her such tribute, lo.  
As did set forth her fame.  
Sometime I stood so in her grace:  
That as I would require,  
Each joy I thought did me embrace.  
That furthered my desire.  
And all those pleasures (lo) had I,  
That fancy might support:  
And nothing, she did me deny,  
That was unto my comfort.  
I had (what would you more perdie?)  
Each grace that I did crave.  
Thus fortunes will was unto me  
All thing that I would have.  
But all to rathe alas the while,  
She built on such a ground:  
In little space, to great a guile  
In her now have I found.  
For she hath turned so her wheel:  
That I unhappy man  
May wail the time that I deed feel  
Wherewith she fed me then.  
For broken now are her behests:  
And pleasant looks she gave:  
And therefore now all my requests,  
From peril can not save.  
Yet would I well it might appear  
To her my chief regard:  
Though my deserts have been to dear  
To m●●●te such reward.  
Sith fortunes will is now so bend  
To plague me thus poor man:  
I must myself therewith content:  
And bear it as I can.   

To his love that had given him answer of refusal.  
THe answer that ye made to me my dear,  
When I did sue for my poor hearts redress:  
Hath so appalled my countenance and my cheer:  
That in this case, I am all comfortless:  
Sins I of blame no cause can well express.  
I have no wrong, where I can claim no right.  
Nought ta'en me fro, where I have nothing had,  
Yet of my woe, I can not so be quite.  
Namely, sins that another may be glad  
With that, that thus in sorrow makes me sad.  
Yet none can claim (I say) by former grant,  
That knoweth not of any grant at all.  
And by desert, I dare well make avaunt,  
Of faithful will, there is no where that shall  
Bear you more truth, more ready at your call.  
Now good then, call again that bitter word:  
That touched your friend so near with pangs of pain:  
And say my deer that it was said in board.  
Late, or to soon, let it not rule the gain,  
Wherewith free will doth true desert retain.   

To his lady cruel over her yelden lover  
SUch is the course, that nature's kind hath wrought,  
That snakes have time to cast away their stings.  
Ainst chained prisoners what need defence be sought:  
The fierce lion will hurt no yelden things:  
Why should such spite be nursed then thy thought?  
Sith all these powers are priest under thy wings:  
And eke thou seest, and reason thee hath taught:  
What mischief malice many ways it brings:  
Consider eke, that spite availeth nought,  
Therefore this song thy fault to thee it singes:  
Displease the not, for saying thus (me thought.)  
Nor hate thou him from whom no hate forth springs,  
For furies, that in hell be execrable.  
For that they hate, are made most miserable.   

The lover complaineth that deadly sickness can not help his affection.  
THe enemy of life, decayer of all kind,  
That with his cold withers away the green:  
This other night, me in my bed did find:  
And offered me to rid my fever clean.  
And I did grant: so did despair me blind.  
He drew his bow●, with arrows sharp and keen:  
And struck the place, where love had it before:  
And drove the first dart deeper more and more.   

The lover rejoiceth the enjoying of his love.  
ONce as me thought, fortune me kissed:  
And bade me ask, what I thought best:  
And I should have it as me list,  
Therewith to set my heart in rest.  
I asked but my lady's heart  
To have for evermore mine own:  
Then at an end were all my smart:  
Then should I need no more to moan,  
Yet for all that a stormy blast  
Had overturnde this goodly nay:  
And fortune seemed at the last,  
That to her promise she said day.  
But like as one out of despair  
To sudden hope reuiued● I.  
Now fortune showeth herself so fair,  
That I content me wondrously.  
My most desire my hand may reach:  
My will is all way at my hand.  
Me need not long for to beseech  
Her, that hath power me to command.  
What earthly thing more can I crave?  
What would I wish more at my will?  
Nothing on earth more would I have,  
Save that I have, to have it still.  
For fortune now hath kept her promise,  
In granting me my most desire.  
Of my sovereign I have redress,  
And I content me with my hire.   

The lover complaineth the unkindness of his love.  
MY lute awake perform the last  
Labour that thou and I shall waste:  
And end that I have now begun:  
And when this song is song and passed:  
My lute be still for I have done.  
As to be heard where ear is no●e:  
As lead to grave in marble stone:  
My song may pierce her heart as soon.  
Should we then sigh? or sing, or moan?  
No, no, my lute for I have done●  
The rocks do not so cruelly  
Repulse the waves continually,  
As she my suit and affection:  
So that I am past remedy,  
Whereby my lute and I have done.  
Proud of the spoil that thou hast got  
Of simple hearts through loves shot:  
By whom unkind thou hast them won,  
Think not he hath his bow forgot,  
Although my lute and I have done.  
vengeance shall fall on thy disdain  
That makest but game on earnest pain.  
Think not alone under the sun  
Unquit to cause thy lovers plain:  
Although my lute and I have done.  
May chance thee lie withered and old.  
In winter nights that are so cold,  
Plaining in vain unto the moan:  
Thy wishes than dare not be told.  
Care then who list, for I have done.  
And then may chance thee to repent  
The time that thou hast lost and spent  
To cause thy lovers ●igh and swoon.  
Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,  
And wish and want as I have done.  
Now cease my lute this is the last,  
Labour that thou and I shall waste  
And ended is that we begun.  
Now is this song both● song and passed,  
My lute be still for I have done.   

How by a kiss he found both his life and death.  
NAture that gave the Bee so feat a grace,  
To find honey of so wondrous fashion:  
Hath taught the spider out of the same place  
To fetch poison by strange alteration.  
Though this be strange, it is a stranger case,  
With one kiss by secret operation,  
Both these at once in those your lips to find,  
In change whereof, I leave my heart behind.   

The lover describeth his being taken with sight of his love.  
unwarely so was never no man caught,  
With steadfast look upon a goodly face:  
As I of late: for suddenly me thought,  
My heart was torn out of his place.  
Thorough mine eye the stroke from hers did slide●  
And down directly to my heart it ran:  
In help whereof the blood thereto did glide,  
And left my face both pale and wan.  
Then was I like a man for woe amazed:  
Or like the fowl that fleeth into the fire.  
For while that I upon her beauty gazed:  
The more I burnt in my desire.  
Anon the blood start in my face again,  
Inflamed with heat, that it had at my heart.  
And brought therewith through out in every vain,  
A quaking heat with pleasant smart.  
Then was I like the straw, when that the flame  
Is driven therein, by force, and rage of wind,  
I can not tell, alas, what I shall blame:  
Nor what to seek, nor what to find.  
But well I wots: the grief doth hold me sore  
In heat and cold, betwixt both hope and dread:  
That, but her help to health do me restore:  
This restless life I may not lead.   

To his lover to look upon him.  
ALL in thy look my life doth whole depend.  
Thou hidest thyself, and I must die therefore,  
But sins thou mayst so easily help thy friend:  
Why dost thou stick to salve that thou madest sore?  
why do I die? sins thou mayst me defend:  
And if I die, thy life may last no more.  
For each by other doth live and have relief,  
I in thy look, and thou most in my grief.   

The lover excuseth him of words wherewith he was unjustly charged.  
pardie I said it not:  
Nor never thought to do.  
As well as I ye wots:  
I have no power thereto,  
And if I did, the lot,  
That first did me enchayne:  
May never slake the knot,  
But straight it to my pain.  
And if I did each thing,  
That may do harm or woe;  
Continually may wring  
My heart where so I go.  
Report may always ring  
Of shame on me for aye:  
If in my heart did spring  
The words that you do say  
And if I did each star,  
That is in heaven above,  
May frown on me to mar  
The hope I have in love.  
And if I did such war,  
As they brought unto Troy,  
Bring all my life as far  
From all his lust and joy.  
And if I did so say:  
The beauty that me bound,  
Increase from day to day  
More cruel to my wound:  
With all the moan that may,  
To plaint may turn my song:  
My life may soon decay,  
Without redress by wrong.  
If I be clear from thought,  
Why do you then complain?  
Then is this thing but sought.  
To turn my heart to pain,  
Then this that you have wrought,  
You must it now redress,  
Of right therefore you ought  
Such rigour to repress.  
And as I have deserved:  
So grant me now my hire:  
You know I never swerved.  
You never found me liar.  
For Rachel have I served,  
For Lea cared I never:  
And her I have reserved  
Within my heart for ever.   

Of such as had forsaken him.  
LUx, my fair falcon, and thy fellows all:  
How well pleasant it were your liberty:  
Ye not forsake me, that fair mought you fall.  
But they that sometime liked my company:  
Like louse a way from dead bodies they crawl.  
Lo, what a proof in light adversity?  
But ye my birds, I swear by all your bells,  
Ye be my friends, and very few else.   

A description of such a one as he would love.  
A Face that should content me wondrous wel●  
Should not be fair, but lovely to behold:  
Of lively look, all grief for to repel:  
With right good grace, so would I that it should  
Speak without word, such words as none can tell.  
Her tress also should be of crisped gold.  
With wit, and these perchance I might be tried,  
And knit again with knot, that should not slide.   

How unpossible it is to find quiet in love.  
Ever my hap is slack and slow in coming  
Desire increasing ay my hope uncertain:  
With doubtful love that but increaseth pain  
For Tiger like so swift it is in parting.  
Alas the snow black shall it be and scalding,  
The sea waterles, and fish upon the mountain:  
The Temis shall back return into his fountain:  
And where he rose the sun shall take his lodging.  
Ere I in this find peace or quietness.  
Or that love or my lady rightwisely  
Leave to conspire against me wrongfully.  
And if I have after such bitterness,  
One drop of sweet, my mouth is out of taste:  
That all my trust and travel is but waste.   

Of love, fortune, and the lovers mind.  
Love, Fortune, and my mind which do remember  
Eke that is now, and that that once hath been:  
Torment my heart so sore that very often  
I hate and envy them beyond all measure.  
Love slayeth my heart while Fortune his deprivee  
Of all my comfort: the foolish mind than:  
Burneth and plainth: as one that very sildam.  
liveth in rest. So still in displeasure  
My pleasant days they fleet away and pass.  
And daily doth mine ill change to the worse.  
while more then half is run now of my course.  
Alas not of steel, but of brittle glass,  
I see that from my hand falleth my trust:  
And all my thoughts are dashed into dust.   

The lover prayeth his offered heart to be received.  
HOw oft have I, my dear and cruel foe:  
With my great pain to get some peace or truce,  
Given you my heart; but you do not use,  
In so high things, to cast your mind so low,  
If any other look for it, as you trow,  
Their vain weak hope doth greatly them abuse.  
And that thus I disdain, that you refuse.  
It was once mine, it can no● more be so.  
If you it chase, that it in you can find,  
In this exile, no manner of comfort:  
Nor live alone, nor where he is called, resort,  
He may wander from his natural kind.  
So shall it be great hurt unto us twain,  
And yours the loss, and mine the deadly pain.   

The lovers life compared to the Alps.  
Like unto these unmeasurable mountains,  
So is my painful life, the burden of ire.  
For high be they, and high is my desire.  
And I of tears, and they be full of fountains.  
Under craggy rocks they have barren plains,  
Hard thoughts in me my woeful mind doth tire,  
Small fruit and many leaves their tops do attire,  
With small effect great trust in me remains.  
The boisterous winds oft their high boughs do blast:  
Hot sighs in me continually be shed.  
wild beasts in them, fierce love in me is fed.  
Unmoveable am I: and they steadfast.  
Of singing birds they have the tune and note:  
And I always plaints passing through my throat.   

Charging of his love as unpetious and loving other.  
IF amorous faith, or if an heart unfeigned  
A sweet languor, a great lovely desire:  
If honest will, kindled in gentle fire:  
If long error in a blind maze chained,  
If in my visage each thought distained:  
Or if my sparkling voice, lower, or hire,  
Which fear and shame, so woefully doth tire:  
If pale colour, which love alas hath stained:  
If to have another than myself more dear,  
If wailing or sighing continually,  
With sorrowful anger feeding busily  
If burning far of, and if frysing near,  
Are cause that I by love myself destroy:  
Yours is the fault, and mine the great annoy.   

A renouncing of love.  
FArewell, Love, and all thy laws for ever,  
Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more.  
Senec, and Plato call me from thy lore:  
To perfect wealth my wit for to endeavour.  
In blind error when I did persever:  
Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore:  
Taught me in trifles that I set no store:  
But scape forth thence: since liberty is liefer.  
Therefore, farewell: go trouble younger hearts:  
And in me claim no more authority.  
With idle youth go use thy propartie:  
And thereon spend thy many brittle darts.  
For, hitherto though I have lost my time:  
Me list no longer rotten bows to climb,   

The lover forsaketh his vukinde love.  
MY heart I gave thee, not to do it pain:  
But to preserve, lo it to thee was taken.  
I served thee not that I should be forsaken:  
But, that I should receive reward again,  
I was content thy servant to remain:  
And not to be repaid on this fashion.  
Now, since in thee there is none other reason:  
Displease thee not, if that I do refrain.  
Unsaciat of my woe, and thy desire.  
Assured by craft for to excuse thy fault.  
But, sins it pleaseth thee to feign default:  
Farewell, I say, departing from the fire.  
For, he, that doth believe bearing in hand:  
Ploweth in the water: and soweth in the sand.   

The lover describeth his restless state.  
THe flaming sighs that boil within my breast  
Sometime break forth and they can well declare  
The hearts unrest and how that it doth far,  
The pain thereof the grief and all the rest.  
The watered eyen from whence the tears do fall,  
Do feel some force or else they would be dry:  
The wasted flesh of colour ded can try,  
And sometime tell what sweetness is in gall.  
And he that lust to see and to disarne,  
How care can force within a wearied mind:  
Come he to me I am that place assigned,  
But for all this no force it doth no harm.  
The wound alas hap in some other place:  
From whence no tool away the scar can raze.  
But you that of such like have had your part,  
Can best be judge. Wherefore my friend so dear:  
I thought it good my state should now appear.  
To you and that there is no great desert.  
And whereas you in weighty matters great:  
Of fortune saw the shadow that you know,  
For trifling things I now am stricken so  
That though I feel my heart doth wound and beat●  
I sit alone save on the second day:  
My fever comes with whom I spend my time,  
In burning heat while that she list assign.  
And who hath health and liberty always:  
Let him thank God and let him not provoke,  
To have the like of this my painful stroke.   

The lover laments the death of his love.  
THe pillar perished is whereto I lent,  
The strongest stay of mine unquiet mind:  
The like of it no man again can find:  
From East to West still seeking though he went.  
To mine unhap for hap away hath rend,  
Of all my joy the very bark and rind:  
And I (alas) by chance am thus assigned,  
Daily to mourn till death do it relent.  
But sins that thus it is by destiny,  
What can I more but have a woeful heart,  
My pen, in plaint, my voice in careful cry:  
My mind in woe, my body full of smart,  
And I myself, myself always to hate,  
Till dreadful death do ease my doleful state.   

The lover sendeth sighs to moon his suit.  
GO burning sighs unto the frozen heart,  
Go break the ice with pities painful dart.  
Might never pierce and if that mortal prayer,  
In heaven be heard, at lest yet I desire.  
That death or mercy end my woeful smart.  
Take with thee pain, whereof I have my part,  
And eke the flame from which I cannot start.  
And leave me then in rest, I you require:  
Go burning sighs fulfil that I desire.  
I must go work I see by craft and art,  
For truth and faith in her is laid apart:  
Alas, I can not therefore now assail her,  
With pitiful complaint and scalding fire,  
That from my breast disceivably doth start.   

Complaint of the absence of his love.  
SO feeble is the thread, that doth the burden stay,  
Of my poor life: in heavy plight, that falleth in decay:  
That, but it have elsewhere some aid or some succours:  
The running spindle of my fate anon shall end his course.  
For sins th'unhappy hour, that did me to departed,  
From my sweet weal: one only hope hath stated my life, apart:  
Which doth persuade such words unto my ●ored mind:  
Maintain thyself, O woeful wight, some better luck to find:  
For though thou be deprived from thy desired sight:  
Who can thee tell, if thy return be for thy more delight?  
Or, who can tell, thy loss if thou mayst once recover?  
Some pleasant hour thy woe may wrap: and thee defend, & cover  
Thus in this trust as yet it hath my life sustained:  
But now (alas) I see it faint: and I, by trust, am trained.  
The time doth fleet, and I see how the hours, do bend  
So fast: that I have scant the space to mark my coming end,  
Westward the sun from out the East scant shows his light:  
When in the West he hies him straight, within the dark of night.  
And comes as fast, where he began, his path awry.  
From East to West, from West to East so doth his journey lie.  
The life so short, so frail, that mortal men live here:  
So great a weight, so heavy charge the bodies, that we bear:  
That, when I think upon the distance, and the space:  
That doth so far divide me from my dear desired face:  
I know not, how tattain the wings, that I require,  
To lift me up: that I might fly, to follow my desire.  
Thus of that hope, that doth my life some thing sustain,  
Alas: I fear, and partly feel: full little doth remain.  
Each place doth bring me grief: where I do not behold  
Those lively eyes: which of my thoughts were want the keys to hold,  
Those thoughts were pleasant sweet: whilst I enjoyed that grace:  
My pleasure past, my present pain, when I might well embrace.  
And, forbecause my want should more my woe increase:  
In watch, and sleep, both day and night, my will doth never cease  
That thing to wish: whereof sins I did lose the sight:  
Was never thing that mought in aught my woeful heart delight,  
Thuneasy life, I lead, doth teach me for to meet  
The floods, the seas, the land, the hills: that doth them entermete  
Tween me, and those sheen lights: that wont for to clear.  
My darked pangs of cloudy thoughts, as bright as Phoebus' spear  
It teacheth me also, what was my pleasant state:  
The more to feel, by such record, how that my wealth doth bate.  
If such record (alas) provoke then● lamed mind:  
Which sprung that day, that I did leave the best of me behind:  
If love ●orget himself, by length of absence let:  
Who doth me guide (O woeful wretch) unto this baited net?  
Where doth increase my care: much better were for me,  
As dumb, as stone, all thing forgot, still absent for to be.  
Alas: the clear crystal, the bright transplendant glass  
Doth not bewray the colours hid, which underneath it hase:  
As doth thaccumbered spirit the thoughtful throws discover,  
Of fears delight, of fervent love: that in our hearts we cover.  
Out by these eyes, it showeth that evermore delight.  
In plaint, and tears to seek redress: and eke both day and night.  
Those kinds of pleasures most wherein men so rejoice,  
To me they do redouble still of stormy sighs the voice.  
For, I am one of them, whom plaint doth well content:  
It s●ts me well mine absent wealth me seems for to lament:  
And with my tears, tassay to charge mine eyes twain:  
Like as my heart above the brink is fraughted full of pain.  
And forbecause, thereto, that those fair eyes to treat  
Do me provoke: I will return, my plaint thus to repeat.  
For, there is nothing else, so toucheth me within:  
Where they rule all: and I alone nought but the case, or skin.  
Wherefore, I shall return to them, as well, or spring:  
From whom descends my mortal woe, above all other thing,  
So shall mine eyes in pain accompany my heart,  
That were the guides, that did it lead of love to feel the smart.  
The crisped gold, that doth surmount Apollo's pride:  
The lively streams of pleasant stars that under it doth glide:  
Wherein the beams of love do still increase their heat:  
Which yet so far touch me so near, in cold to make me sweat.  
The wise and pleasant talk, so rare, or else alone:  
That gave to me the curteis gift, that erst had never none:  
Be far from me, alas: and every other thing  
I might forbear with better will: then this that did me bring  
With pleasant word and cheer, redress of lingered pain:  
And wont oft in kindled will to virtue me to train.  
Thus, am I forced to hear, and hearken after news.  
My comfort scant, my large desire in doubtful trust renews.  
And yet with more delight to moon my woeful case:  
I must complain those hands, those arms: that firmly do embrace  
Me from myself: and rule the stern of my poor life:  
The sweet disdains, the pleasant wraths, and eke the lovely strife  
That wonted well to tune in temper just, and meet,  
The rage: that oft did make me err, by furor undiscrete.  
All this is hid fro me, with sharp, and ragged hills:  
At others will, my long abode my deep despair fulfils.  
And if my hope sometime rise up, by some redress:  
It stumbleth strait, for feeble faint: my fear hath such excess.  
Such is the sort of hope: the less for more desire:  
And yet I trust ere that I die to see that I require  
The resting place of love: where virtue dwells and grows  
There I desire, my weary life, sometime, may take repose.  
My song: thou shalt attain to find that pleasant place:  
Where she doth live, by whom I live: may chance to have this grace  
when she hath red, and seen the grief, wherein I serve:  
Between her breasts she shall thee put: there, shall she the reserve.  
Then, tell her, that I come: she shall me shortly see:  
And if for weight the body fail, the soul shall to her flee●   

The lover blameth his love for renting of the letter he sent her.  
Sufficed not (madame) that you did tear,  
My woeful heart, but thus also to rend:  
The weeping paper that to you I sent.  
Whereof each letter was written with a tear.  
Can not my present paines● alas suffice.  
Your greedy heart? and that my heart doth feel,  
Torments that prick more sharper than the steel,  
But new and new must to my lot arise.  
Use then my death. So shall your cruelty:  
Spite of your spite rid me from all my smart,  
And I no more such torments of the heart:  
Feel as I do. This shall you gain thereby.   

The lover cu●seth the time when first he fell in love.  
WHen first mine eyes did view, and mark,  
Thy fair beauty to behold:  
And when mine ears listened to hark:  
The pleasant wordes● that thou me told:  
I would as then, I had been free,  
From ears to h●are, and eyes to see.  
And when my lips 'gan first to move,  
Whereby my heart to thee was known:  
And when my tongue did talk of love,  
To thee that hast true love down thrown:  
I would, my lips, and tongue also:  
Had then been dumb, no deal to go.  
And when my hands have handled aught,  
That thee hath kept in memory:  
And when my feet have gone, and sought  
To find and get thee company:  
I would, each hand a foot had been,  
And I each foot a hand had seen.  
And when in mind I did consent  
To follow this my fancies will:  
And when my heart did first relent,  
To taste such bait, my life to spill:  
I would, my heart had been as thine:  
Or else thy heart had been, as mine.   

The lover determineth to serve faithfully.  
Since love will needs, that I shall love:  
Of very force I must agree.  
And since no chance may it remove:  
In wealth, and in adversity,  
I shall always myself apply  
To serve and suffer patiently.  
Though for good will I find but hate:  
And cruelty my life to waste:  
And though that still ● wretched state  
Should pine my dales unto the last:  
Yet I profess it willingly,  
To serve, and suffer patiently.  
For since my heart is bound to serve:  
And I not ruler of mine own:  
what so befall, till that I starve,  
By proof full well it shall be known:  
That I shall still myself apply  
To serve, and suffer patiently.  
●ea though my grief find no redresse●  
But still increase before mine eyes:  
Though my reward be cruelness,  
With all the harm, hap can deuise●  
Yet I profess it willingly  
To serve and suffer patiently.  
Yea though fortune her pleasant ●ace  
Should show, to set me up a fit:  
And strait, my wealth for to deface,  
Should writhe away, as she doth oft:  
Yet would I still myself apply  
To serve and suffer patiently.  
There is no grief, no smart, no woe:  
That yet I feel, or after shall:  
That from this mind may make me go,  
And what so ever me befall:  
I do profess it willingly  
To serve and suffer patiently.   

The lover suspected blameth ill tongues.  
MYstrustfull minds be moved  
To have me in suspect.  
The troth it shallbe proved:  
Which time shall once detect.  
Though falsehood go about  
Of crime me to accuse:  
At length I do not doubt,  
But truth shall me excuse.  
Such sauce, as they have served  
To me without desert:  
Even as they have deserved:  
Thereof God send them part.   

The lover complaineth and his lady comforteth.  
Lover. IT burneth yet, alas my hearts desire.  
Lady. What is the thing, that hath inflamed thy h●rt?  
Lover. A certain point, as fervent, as the fire.  
Lady. The heat shall cease, if that thou wilt convert.  
Lover. I cannot stop the fervent raging ire.  
La. What may I do, if thyself cause thy smart?  
Lo. Hear my request, and rue weighing cheer.  
La. With right good will, say on: lo, I thee here.  
Lo. That thing would I, that maketh two content.  
La. Thou seekest, perchance, of me, that I may not.  
Lo. Would god, thou wouldst, as thou mayst, well assent.  
La. That I may not, the grief is mine: God wots.  
Lo. But I it feel, what so thy words have meant.  
La. Suspect me not: my words be not forgot.  
Lo. Then say, alas: shall I have help? or no.  
La. I see no time to answer, y●a, but no.  
Lo. Say ye, dear heart: and stand no more in dout●  
La. I may not grant a thing, that is so dear  
Lo. Lo, with delays thou drieves me still about.  
La. Thou wouldst my death: it plainly doth appert.  
Lo. First, may my heart his blood, and life bleed out  
La. Then for my sake, alas, thy will forbear.  
Lo. From day to day, thus wastes my life away.  
La. Yet, for the best, suffer some small delay.  
Lo. Now, good, say yea: do once so good a deed.  
La. If I said yea: what should thereof ensue?  
Lo. An heart in pain of succour so should speed.  
Twixt yea, and nay, my doubt shall still renews  
My sweet, say yea: and do away this dread.  
La. Thou wilt needs so: be it so: but then be true.  
Lo. Nought would I else, nor other treasure none,  
Thus, hearts be won, by love, request, and moan.   

why love is blind.  
OF purpose, love chose first for to be blind:  
For, he with sight of that, that I behold,  
Uanquisht had been, against all godly kind.  
His bow your hand, and truss should have unfold.  
And he with me to serve had been assigned.  
But, for he blind, and reckless would him hold:  
And still, by chance, his deadly strokes bestow:  
With such, as see, I serve, and suffer wo.   

To his unkind love.  
WHat rage is this? what furor? of what kind?  
What power, what plague doth weary thus my minde●  
Within my bones to rankle is assigned  
What poison pleasant sweet?  
Lo, see, mine eyes flow with continual tears:  
The body still away slepelesse it wears:  
My food nothing my fainting strength repairs,  
Nor doth my limbs sustain.  
In deep wide wound, the deadly stroke doth turn:  
To cureless skarr● that never shall return.  
Go to: triumph: rejoice thy goodly turn:  
Thy friend thou dost oppress.  
Oppress thou dost: and hast of him no cure:  
Nor yet my plaint no pity can procure.  
Fierce Tiger, fell, hard rock without recure:  
Cruel rebel to Love,  
Once may thou love, never beloved again:  
So love thou still, and not thy love obtain:  
So wrathful love, with spites of just disdains  
May threat thy cruel heart.   

The lover blameth his instant desire.  
DEsire (alas) my master, and my foe:  
So ●ore altered thyself how mayst thou see?  
Sometime thou seekest, that drives me to and fro.  
Sometime, thou lead'st, that leadeth the and me.  
what reason is to rule thy subjects so?  
By forced law, and mutability.  
For where by thee I doubted to have blame:  
Even now by hate again I doubt the same.   

The lover complaineth his estate.  
I See, that chance hath chosen me  
Thus secertly to live in pain:  
And to ●n other given the fee  
Of all my loss to have the gain.  
By chance assigned thus do I see rue:  
And other have, that I deserve.  
Unto myself sometime alone  
I do lament my woeful case.  
But what availeth me to moon?  
Since troth, and p●t●e hath no place  
In them: to whom I sue and serve:  
And other have, that I deserve.  
To seek by mean to change this minde●  
Alas, I prove, it will not be.  
For in my heart I cannot find  
Once to refrain, but still agree,  
As bound by force, always to serve:  
And other have that I deserve.  
Such is the fortune, that I have  
To love them most, that love me les●:  
And to my pain to seek, and crave  
The thing, that other have possessed.  
So thus in vain always I serve.  
And other have, that I deserve.  
And till I may appease the heat:  
If that my hap will hap so well:  
To wail my woe my heart shall fret:  
Whose pen●if pain my tongue can tell.  
Yet thus unhappy must I serve:  
And other have, that I deserue●   

Of his love called Anna.  
WHat word is that, that changeth not,  
Though it be turned & made in tw●in●●  
It is mine Anna god it wots.  
The only causer of my pain:  
My love that medeth with disdain.  
Yet is it loved what will you more.  
It is my salve, and eke my sore.   

That pleasure is mixed with every pain.  
Venomous thrones that are so sharp and keen,  
Bear flowers we see full fresh and fair of hue.  
Poison is also put in medicine.  
And unto man his health doth oft renew.  
The fire that all things eke consumeth clean  
May hurt and heal: then if that this be true.  
I trust sometime my harm may be my health,  
Sins every woe is joined with some wealth.   

A riddle of a gift given by a Lady:  
A Lady gave me a gift she had not,  
And I received her gift which I took not,  
She gave it me willingly, and yet she would not●  
And I received it, albeit, I could not,  
If she give it me, I force not,  
And if she take it again she cares not.  
Construe what this is and tell not,  
For I am fast sworn I may not.   

That speaking or proffering brings always speding.  
Speak thou and speed where will or power ought help●●●  
Where power doth want will must be won by wealth.  
For need will speed, where will works no● his kind,  
And gain, thy foes thy friends shall cause thee find,  
For suit and gold, what do not they obtain,  
Of good and bad the triers are these twain.   

He ruleth not though he reign over realms that is subject to his own lusts.  
IF thou wilt mighty be, flee from the rage  
Of cruel will, and see thou keep thee free  
From the foul yoke of sensual bondage,  
For though thine empire stretch to Indian sea,  
And for thy fear trembleth the farthest Thylec,  
If thy desire have over thee the power,  
Subject than art thou and no governor.  
If to be noble and high thy mind be moved,  
Consider well thy ground and thy beginning:  
For he that hath each star in heaven fixed,  
And gives the Moon her horns and her ecsipsing:  
Alike hath made the noble in his working,  
So that wretched no way may thou be.  
Except foul lust and vice do conquer thee.  
All were it so thou had a flood of gold,  
Unto thy thirst yet should it not suffice.  
And though with Indian stones a thousand fold,  
More precious than can thyself devise,  
Y●harged were thy back: thy coui●ise  
And busy biting yet should never let,  
Thy wretched life, ne do thy death profit.   

whether liberty by loss of life, or life in prison and thraldom be to be preferred.  
Like as the bird within the cage enclosed,  
The door unsparred, her foe the Hawk without,  
Twixt death and prison piteously oppressed.  
whether for to ●hose standeth in doubt,  
Lo, so do I, which seek to bring about,  
Which should be best by determination,  
By loss of life liberty, or life by prison.  
O mischief by mischief to be redressed.  
●here pain is best there lieth but little pleasure.  
By short death better to be delivered,  
Than bide in painful life, thraldom, and doler,  
Small is the pleasure where much pain we suffer.  
Rather therefore to choose me thinketh wisdom,  
By loss of lif● liberty, than life by prison.  
And yet me thinks although I live and suffer●  
I do but wait a time and fortunes chance:  
Oft many things do happen in one hover.  
That which oppressed me now may me advance.  
In time is trust which by deaths grievance  
Is wholly lost. Then were it not reason,  
By death to choose liberty, and not life by prison.  
But death were deliverance where life lengths pain●  
Of these two ills let see now choose the best:  
This bird to deliver that here doth plain,  
what say ye lovers? which shall be the best?  
In cage thraldom, or by the Hawk oppressed.  
And which to choose make plain conclusion,  
By loss of life liberty, or life by prison.   

Against hourders of money.  
FOr shamefast harm of great, and hateful need:  
In deep despair, as did a wretch go,  
With ready cord, out of his life to speed:  
His stumbling foot did find an hoard, lo,  
Of gold, I say: where he prepared this deed:  
And in eschange, he lef● the cord, tho.  
He, that had hid the gold, and found it not:  
Of that, he found, he shaped his neck a knot.   

Description of a gone.  
VUlcane begat me: Minerva me taught:  
Nature, my mother: Craft nourished me year by years  
Three bodies are my food: my strength is in nought:  
Anger, wrath, waist, and noise are my children der●,  
Guess friend, what I am: and how I am wrought:  
Monster of sea, or of land, or of else where.  
Know me, and use me: and I may thee defend:  
And if I be thine enemy, I may thy life end,   

wiate being in prison, to Brian.  
sighs are my food: my drink are my tears.  
Clinking of fetters would such music crave.  
stink, and close air away my life it wears.  
Poor innocence is all the hope I have.  
Rain, wind, or wether judge I by mine ears.  
Malice assaults, that righteousness should have.  
Sure am I, Brian, this wound shall heal again:  
But yet alas, the scar shall still remain.   

Of dissembling words.  
THroughout the world if it were sought,  
Fair words enough a man shall find:  
They be good cheap they cost right nought.  
Their substance is but only wind:  
But well to say and so to mean,  
That sweet accord is seldom seen.   

Of the mean and sure estate.  
SLond who so list upon the slipper wheel,  
Of high estate and let me here rejoice.  
And use my life in quietness each deal,  
Unknowen in court that hath the wanton toys,  
In hidden place my time shall slowly pass  
And when my years be passed withouten noise  
Let me die old after the common trace  
For gripes of death doth he to hardly pass  
That known is to all: but to himself alas,  
He dieth unknown, dazed with dreadful face.   

The courtier's life  
IN court to serve decked with fresh array,  
Of sugared meats feeling the sweet repast:  
The life in banquets, and sundry kinds of pla●,  
Amid the press of worldly looks to waste,  
Hath with it joined oft times such bitter taste.  
That who so joys such kind of life to hold,  
In prison joys fettered with chains of gold.   

Of disappointed purpose by negligence.  
OF Carthage he that worthy warrior  
Can overcome, but could not use his chance  
And I likewise of all my long endeavour  
The sharp conquest though fortune did advance,  
Ne could I use. The hold that is given over,  
I unposest, so hangeth now in balance  
Of war, my peace, reward of all my pain,  
At Mountzon thus I restless rest in Spain.   

Of his return from Spain.  
Tagus' farewell that Westward with thy streams  
Turns up the grains of gold already tried,  
For I with spur and sail go seek the thames.  
Gaineward the sun that showeth her wealthy pride,  
And to the town that Brutus sought by dreams,  
Like bended moan that leans her lusty side.  
My king, my country, I seek for whom I live,  
O mighty jove the winds for this me give.   

Of sudden trusting.  
Driven by desire I did this deed  
To danger myself without cause why:  
To trust thuntrue not like to speed,  
To speak and promise faithfully:  
But now the proof doth verify,  
That who so trusteth ere he know,  
Doth hurt himself and please his foe,   

Of the mother that eat her child at the siege of jerusalem.  
IN doubtful breast whiles motherly pity  
With furious famine standeth at debate,  
The mother saith: O child unhappy  
Return thy blood where thou hadst milk of late  
Yield me those limbs that I made unto thee,  
And enter there where thou were generate.  
For one of body against all nature,  
To an other must I make sepulture.   

Of the mean and sure estate written to john Poins.  
MY mother's maids when they do sow and spin:  
They sing a song made of the feldishe mouse:  
That for because her livelihood was but thin,  
Would needs go see her townish sister's house,  
She thought, herself endured to grievous pain,  
The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse:  
That when the furrows swimmed with the rain:  
She must lie cold, and wet in sorry plight.  
And worse than that, bare meat there did remain  
To comfort her, when she her house had dight:  
Sometime a barley corn: sometime a bean:  
For which she laboured hard both day and night,  
In harvest time, while she might go and glean.  
And when her store was stroyed with the flood:  
Then weleaway for she undone was clean.  
Then was she feign to take in stead of food,  
sleep if she might, her hunger to beguile.  
My sister (quoth she) hath a living good:  
And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile.  
In cold and storm, she lieth warm and dry,  
In bed of down: the dirt doth not defile  
Her tender foot, she labours not as I,  
Richly she feeds, and at the richemans' cost:  
And for her meat she needs not crane nor cry.  
By sea, by land, of delicates the most  
Her cater seeks, and spareth for no peril:  
She feeds on boil meat, bake meat, and on roast:  
And hath therefore no whit of charge nor travel.  
And when she list the liquor of the grape  
Doth glad her heart, till that her belly swell.  
And at this journey makes she but a jape:  
So forth she goes, trusting of all this wealth,  
With her sister her part so for to shape:  
That if she might there keep herself in health:  
To live a Lady while her life doth last.  
And to the door now is she come by stealth:  
And with her foot anon she scarpes full fast.  
Tother for fear, durst not well scarce appear:  
Of every noise so was the wretch aghast.  
At last, she asked softly who was there.  
And in her language as well as she could,  
Peep (quoth the other) sister I am here.  
Peace (quoth the town mouse) why speakest thou so loud?  
And by the hand she took her fair and well.  
Welcome (quoth she) my sister by the road.  
She feasted her that joy it was to tell  
The fare they had, they drank the wine so clear:  
And as to purpose now and then i● fell:  
She cheered her, with how sister what cheer?  
Amid this joy be fell a sorry chance:  
That (weleaway) the stranger bought full dear  
The fare she had. For as she looked a scance:  
Under a stole she spied two steming eyes  
In a round head, with sharp ears: in France  
Was never mouse so feared, for the unwise  
Had not yseen such a beast before.  
Yet had nature taught her after her gise,  
To know her foe: and dread him evermore.  
The townemouse f●ed: she knew whither to go:  
The other had no shift, but wonders sore  
feared of her life, at home she wished her tho:  
And to the door (alas) as she did skip:  
The heaven it would, lo: and eke her chance was so:  
At the threshold hersely foot did trip:  
And ere she might recover it again:  
The traitor cat had caught her by the hip:  
And made her there against her will remain:  
That had forgot her power, surety and rest,  
For seeking wealth, wherein she thought to reign.  
Alas (my Poyns) how men do seek the best,  
And find the worse, by error as they stray,  
And no marvel, when sight is so oppressed,  
And blinds the guide, anon out of the way  
Goeth guide and all in seeking quiet life.  
O wretched minds, there is no gold that may  
Grant that you seek, no war, no peace, no strife.  
No, no, although thy head were hooped with gold,  
Sergeant with mace, with hawbart, sword, nor knife,  
Can not repulse the care that follow should.  
Each kind of life hath with him his disease.  
Live in delits, even as thy lust would:  
And thou shalt find, when lust doth most thee please:  
It irketh strait, and by itself doth fade.  
A small thing is it, that may thy mind appease.  
None of you all there is, that is so mad,  
To seek for grapes on brambles, or on briars:  
Nor none I trow that hath a wit so bad,  
To set his hay for coneys over rivers:  
Nor ye set not a drag net for an hare.  
And yet the thing, that most is your desire,  
You do misseke, with more travel and care.  
Make plain thine ha●t, that it be not knotted  
With hope or dread, and see thy will be bare  
From all affects, whom vice hath never spotted.  
Thyself content with that is thee assigned:  
And use it well that is to thee allotted,  
Then seek no more out of thyself to find  
The thing that thou hast sought so long before.  
For thou shalt feel it sticking in thy mind.  
Made, if ye list to continue your sore:  
Let present pass, and gape on time to come,  
And deep thyself in travel more and more.  
Henceforth (my Poins) this shall be all and sum  
These wretched fools shall have nought else of me:  
But, to the great God and to his doom,  
None other pain pray ● for them to be:  
But when the rage doth lead them from the right:  
That looking backward, Virtue they may see,  
Even as she is, so goodly fair and bright.  
And whilst they clasp their lusts in arms a cross:  
Grant them good Lord, as thou mayst of thy might,  
To fret inward, ●or losing such a loss.   

Of the Courtier's life written to John Poins.  
Mine own John Poins: sins ye delight to know  
The causes why that homeward I me draw,  
And i'll the press of courts, where so they go:  
Rather than to live thrall under the awe,  
Of lordly looks, wrapped within my cloak,  
To will and lust learning to set a law:  
It is not that because I scorn or mock  
The power of them: whom fortune here hath lent  
Charge over us, of right to strike the stroke.  
But true it is that I have always meant  
Less to esteem them, than the common sort  
Of outward things: that judge in their intent,  
without regard, what inward doth resort.  
I grant, sometime of glory that the fire  
Doth touch my heart. Me list not to report  
Blame by honour, and honour to desire.  
But how may I this honour now attain?  
That can not die the colour black a liar.  
My Poyns, I can not frame my time to fain:  
To cloak the truth, for praise without desert,  
Of them that list all vice for to retain.  
I can not honour them, that set their part  
With Venus, and Bacchus, all their life long:  
Nor hold my peace of them, although I smart.  
I can not crouch nor kneel to such a wrong:  
To worship them like God on earth alone:  
That areas wolves these silly lambs among.  
I can not with my words complain and moan,  
And suffer nought: nor smart without complaint:  
No● turn the word that from my mouth is gone,  
I can not speak and look ●●ke as a saint:  
Use wiles for wit, and make deceit a pleasure:  
Call craft counsel, for lucre still to paint.  
I can not wrest the law to fill the coffer:  
with innocent blood to feed myself fat:  
And do most hurt: where that most help I offer.  
I am not he, that can allow the state  
Of high Ceasar, and damn Cato to die:  
That with his death did scape out of the gate,  
From Caesar's hands, if Livye doth not lie:  
And would not live, where liberty was lost,  
So did his heart the common wealth apply.  
I am not he, such eloquence to boast:  
To make the crow in singing, as the swan:  
Nor call the lion of coward beasts the most.  
That can not take a mouse, as the cat can.  
And he that dieth for hunger of the gold,  
Call him Alexander, and say that Pan  
Passeth Apollo in music manifold:  
Praise sir Copas for a noble tale,  
And scorn the story that the knight told:  
Praise him for counsel, that is drunk of ale:  
Grin when he laughs, that feareth all the sway:  
Frown, when he frowns: and groan when he is pale:  
On others lust to hang both night and day.  
None of these points would ever frame in me.  
My wit is nought, I can not learn the way.  
And much the less of things that greater be,  
That asken help of colours to devise  
To join the mean with each extremity:  
With nearest virtue ay to cloak the vice.  
And as to purpose likewise it shall fall:  
To press the virtue that it may not rise.  
As drunkenness good fellowship to call:  
The friendly foe, with his fair double face,  
Say he is gentle and curties therewithal.  
Affirm that Favel hath a goodly grace,  
In eloquence: And cruelty to name  
Zeal of justice: And change in time and place.  
And he that suffereth offence without blame:  
Call him pitiful, and him true and plain,  
That raileth reckless unto each man's shame.  
Say he is rude, that can not lie and feign:  
The lecher a lover, and tyranny  
To be the right of a Prince's reign.  
I can not I, no, no, it will not be.  
This is the cause that I could never yet  
Hang on their sleeves, that weigh (as thou mayst see)  
A chip of chance more than a pound of wit.  
This maketh me at home to hunt and hawk:  
And in fowl wether at my book to sit:  
In frost and snow, then with my bow to stalk.  
No man doth mark where so I ride or go.  
In lusty leas at liberty I walk:  
And of these news I feel nor weal nor woe:  
Save that a clog doth hang yet at my heel.  
No force for that, for it is ordered so:  
That I may leap both hedge and dike full weal,  
I am not now in France, to judge the wine:  
with savoury sauce those delicates to feel.  
Nor yet in Spain where one must him incline,  
Rather than to be, outwardly to seem.  
I meddle not with wits that be so fine,  
Nor Flaunders cheer lets not my sight to dame  
Of black, and white, nor takes my wits away  
with beastliness: such do those beasts esteem.  
Nor I am not, where truth is given in prey,  
For money, poison, and treason: of some  
A common practice, used night and day.  
But I am here in kent and christendom:  
Among the Muses, where I read and rhyme,  
Where if thou list mine own John Poyns to come:  
Thou shalt be judge, how I do spend my time.   

How to use the court and himself therein, written to sir Frances Brian.  
A Spending hand that always poureth out,  
Had need to have a bringer in as fast.  
And on the stone that still doth turn about,  
There groweth no moss. These proverbs yet do last:  
Reason hath set them in so sure a place:  
That length of years their force can never was●e.  
When I remember this, and eke the case,  
wherein thou stand'st: I thought forthwith to write  
(Brian) to thee: who knows how great a grace  
In writing is to counsel man the right.  
To thee therefore that trots still up and down:  
And never rests, but running day and night,  
From realm to realm, from city street, and town.  
Why dost thou wear thy body to the bones?  
And mightest at home sleep in thy bed of down:  
And drink good ale so nappy for the nonce:  
Feed thyself fat, and heap up pound by pound.  
Likest thou not this? No. Why? For swine so groins  
In sty, and chaw dung moulded on the ground.  
And drivell on pearls with head still in the manger,  
So of the harp the ass doth hear the sound.  
So sacks of dirt be filled. The neat courtier  
So serves for less, then do these fatted swine.  
Though I seem lean and dry, withouten moister:  
Yet will I serve my prince, my lord and thine.  
And let them live to feed the paunch that list:  
So I may live to feed both me and mine.  
By God well said. But what and if thou witted  
How to bring in, as fast as thou dost spend.  
That would I learn. And it shall not be missed,  
To tell thee how. Now hark what I intend.  
Thou knowest well first, who so can seek to please,  
Shall purchase friends: where troth shall but offend.  
Flee therefore truth, it is both wealth and ease.  
For though that troth of every man hath praise:  
Full near that wind goeth troth in great misease.  
Use virtue, as it goeth now a days:  
In word alone to make thy language sweet:  
And of thy deed, yet do not as thou says.  
Else be thou sure: thou shalt be far unmeet  
To get thy bread, each thing is now so scant.  
Seek still thy profit upon thy bare feet.  
Lend in no wise: for fear that thou do want:  
Unless it be, as to a calf a cheese:  
But if thou can be sure to win a can●  
Of half at least. It is not good to lose.  
Learn at the lad, that in a long white cote,  
From under the stall, withouten lands or feeze,  
Hath leapt into the shop: who knows by rote  
This rule that I have told thee here before.  
Sometime also rich age begins to dote,  
See thou when there thy gain may be the more,  
Stay him by the arm, where so he walk or go:  
Be near always, and if he cough to sore:  
What he hath spit tread out, and please him so.  
A diligent knave that pikes his master's purse,  
May please him so, that he withouten more  
Executor is. And what is he the worse?  
But if so chance, thou get nought of the man:  
The widow may for all thy pain disburse.  
A riveled skin, a stinking breath, what than?  
A tothelesse mouth shall do thy lips no harm.  
The gold is good, and though she curse or ban:  
Yet where thee list, thou mayest lie good and warm.  
Let the old mule bite upon the bridle:  
Whilst there do lie a sweeter in thy arm.  
In this also see that thou be not idle:  
Thy niece, thy cousin, sister, or thy daughter,  
If she be fair: if handsome be her middle:  
If thy better hath her love besought her:  
Advance his cause, and he shall help thy need.  
It is but love, turn thou it to a laughter.  
But ware I say, so gold thee help and speed:  
That in this case thou be not so unwise,  
As Pandarus was in such a like deed.  
For he the sole of conscience was so nice:  
That he no gain would have for all his pain.  
Be next thyself for friendship bears no price.  
Laughest thou at me, why? do I speak in vain?  
No not at thee, but at thy thrifty jest.  
wouldst thou, I should for any loss or gain,  
Change that for gold, that I have ta'en for best.  
Next godly things: to have an honest name?  
Should I leave that? then take me for a beast.  
Nay then farewell, and if thou care for shame:  
Content thee then with honest poverty:  
with free tongue, what thee mislikes, to blame,  
And for thy troth sometime adversity.  
And therewithal this gift I shall thee give,  
In this world now little prosperity:  
And coin to keep: as water in a siue.   

The song of jopas unfinished.  
WHen Dido feasted first the wandering Trojan knight:  
whom junos' wrath with storms did force in Libik sands to light  
That mighty Atlas taught, the supper lasting long,  
With crisped locks on golden harp, jopas sang in song.  
That same (quoth he) that we the world do call and name:  
Of heaven and earth with all contents, it is the very frame.  
Or thus, of heavenly powers by more power kept in one  
Repugnant kinds, in mids of whom the earth hath place alone:  
Firm, round, of living things, the mother, place and nurse:  
Without the which in equal weight, this heaven doth hold his course  
And it is called by name, the first and moving heaven,  
The firmament is placed next, containing other seven,  
Of heavenly powers that same is planted full and thick:  
As shining lights which we call stars, that therein cleave & stick.  
With great swift sway, the first, and with his restless sours,  
Carrieth itself, and all those eight, in even continual course.  
And of this world so round within that rolling case,  
Two points there be that never move, but firmly keep their place●  
The tone we see always, the t'other stands object  
Against the same, dividing just the ground by line direct.  
Which by imagination, drawn from the one to tother  
Toucheth the centre of the earth, for way there is none other.  
And these be called the Poles, descried by stars not bright.  
Arctic the one northward we see: Antarctic tother hight,  
The line, that we devise from th'one to tother so:  
As axle is, upon the which the heavens about do go  
Which of water nor earth, of air nor fire have kind,  
Therefore the substance of those same were hard for man to finder  
But they been uncorrupt, simple and pure unmixed:  
And so we say been all those stars, that in those same be sixth.  
And eke those erring seven, in circle as they stray:  
So called, because against that first they have repugnant way:  
And smaller by ways to, scant sensible to man:  
To busy work for my poor harp: let sing them he that can.  
The widest save the first, of all these nine above  
One hundred year doth ask of space, for one degree to mo●e.  
Of which degrees we make, in the first moving heaven,  
Three hundred and threescore in parts justly divided even.  
And yet there is another between those heavens two:  
Whose moving is so sly so slack: I name it not for now.  
The seventh heaven or the shell next to the s●arry sky,  
All those degrees that gatherth up, with aged pace so sly:  
And doth perform the same, as elders count hath been.  
In nine and twenty years complete, and days almost sixteen:  
Doth carry in his bout the star of Saturn old:  
A threatener of all living things, with drought and with his cold.  
The sixth whom this contains doth stalk with younger pace:  
And in twelve year doth somewhat more then thothers usage was.  
And this in it doth bear the star of jove benign,  
T'wene Satur's malice and us men, friendly defending sign.  
The fift bears bloody Mars, that in three hundred days,  
And twice eleven with one ●ull year, hath finished all those ways.  
A year doth ask the fourth, and hours thereto six,  
And in the same the days eye the sun, therein he sticks.  
The third that governed is by that, that governs me:  
And love for love, and for no love provokes: as oft we see:  
In like space doth perform that course, that did the t'other.  
So doth the next unto the same, that second is in order.  
But it doth bear the star, that called is Mercury:  
That many a crafty secret step doth tread, as Calcars' try.  
That sky is last, and fixed next vs● those ways hath gone,  
In seven and twenty common days, and eke the third of one:  
And fears with his sway, the divers Moon about:  
Now bright, now brown, now bend, now full, & now her light is out.  
Thus have they of their own two movings all these seven  
One, wherein they be carried still, each in his several heaven,  
An other of themselves, where their bodies be laid  
In by ways, and in lesser rounds, as I afore have said.  
Save of them all the Sun doth stray lest from the straight,  
The starry sky hath but one course, that we have called the eight.  
And all these movings eight are meant from West to East:  
Although they seem to climb aloft, I say from East to west.  
But that is but by force of the first moving sky:  
In twice twelve hours from east to east that carrieth them by & by  
But mark we well also, these movings of these seven,  
Be not about the axle tree of the first moving heaven.  
For they have their two poles directly tone to the t'other. etc.  T. WYATE the elder.  

Songs and sonnets of uncertain auctors.  

The complaint of a lover with suit to his love for pity.  
IF ever woeful man might move your hearts to ruth,  
Good ladies here his woeful plaint, whose death shall try his truth  
And rightful judges be on this his true report:  
If he deserve a lovers name among the faithful sort.  
Five hundred times the Sun hath lodged him in the west:  
Since in my heart I harboured first of all the goodliest gest.  
Whose worthiness to shew● my wits are all to faint.  
And I lack cunning of the schools, in colours her to paint.  
But this I briefly say in words of equal weight.  
So void of vice was never none, nor with such virtues freight.  
And for her beauty's praise, no wight, that with her wars.  
For, where she comes, she shows herself as sun among the stars  
But Lord, thou wast to blame, to frame such parfitenesse:  
And puts no pity in her heart, my sorrows to redress.  
For if ye knew the pains, and pangs, that I have passed:  
A wonder would it be to you, how that my life hath last.  
When all the Gods agreed, that Cupid with his bow  
Should shoot his arrows from her eyes, on me his might to show  
I knew it was in vain my force to trust upon:  
And well I witted, it was no shame, to yield to ●uch a one.  
Then did I me submit with humble heart and mind,  
To be her man for evermore: as by the Gods assigned.  
And since that day, no woe, wherewith love might torment,  
Can move me from this faithful band: or make me once repent.  
Yet have I felt full oft the hottest of his fire:  
The bitter tears, the scalding sighs, the burning hot desire●  
And with a sudden sight the trembling of the heart:  
And how the blood doth come, and go, to secure every part.  
When that a pleasant look hath lift me in the air:  
A frown hath made me fall as fast into a deep despayer.  
And when that I ere this, my tale could well by heart:  
And that my tongue had learned it, so that no word might start:  
The sight of her hath set my wits in such a stay:  
That to be lord of all the world, one word I could not say.  
And many a sudden cramp my heart hath pinched so:  
That for the time, my senses all felt neither weal, nor wo.  
Yet saw I never thing, that might my mind content:  
But wished it hers, and at her will, if she could so consent.  
Nor never heard of woe: that did her will displease:  
But wished the same unto myself, so it might do her ease.  
Nor never thought that fair, nor never liked face:  
Unless it did resemble her, or some part of her grace.  
No distance yet of place could us so far divide,  
But that my heart, and my good will did still with her abide.  
Nor yet it never lay in any fortune's power,  
To put that sweet out of my thought, one minute of an hour.  
No rage of drenching sea, nor woodness of the wind,  
Nor cannons with their thundering cracks could put her from my mind  
For when both sea and land asunder had us set:  
My hole delight was only then, myself alone to get.  
And thitherward to look, as near as I could guess:  
Where as I thought, that she was then, that might my woe redress.  
Full oft it did me good, that ways to take my wind:  
So pleasant air in no place else, me thought I could not find.  
I saying to myself, my life is yonder way:  
And by the wind I have her sent, a thousand sighs a day.  
And said unto the sun, great gifts are given thee:  
For thou mayst see mine earthly bliss, where ever that she be.  
Thou seest in every place, would God I had thy might:  
And I the ruler of myself, than should she know no night.  
And thus from wish to wish, my wits have been at strife:  
And wanting all that I have wished, thus have I led my life.  
But long it can not last, that in such woe remains.  
No force for that: for death is sweet to him, that feels such paines●  
Yet most of all me grieves: when I am in my grave,  
That she shall purchase by my death a cruel name to have.  
Wherefore all you that hear this plaint, or shall it see:  
Wish, that it may so pierce her heart, that she may pity me.  
For and it were her will: for both it were the best,  
To save my life, to keep her name, and set my heart at rest.   

Of the death of master Devorox the lord Ferres son.  
WHo justly may rejoice in aught under the sky?  
As life, or lands: as friends, or fruits: which only live to die.  
Or who doth not well know all worldly works are vain?  
And giveth nought but to the lends, to take the same again.  
For though it lift some up: as we long upward all:  
Such is the sort of slipper wealth: all things do rise to fall.  
Thuncerteintie is such: experience teacheth so:  
That what things men do cover most them soonest they forego.  
Lo Devorox where he lieth: whose l●fe men held so dear  
That now his death is sorrowed so, that pity it is to hear.  
His birth of ancient blood: his parents of great fame:  
And yet in virtue far before the foremost of the same,  
His king, and country both he served to so great gain:  
That with the Brutus' record doth rest, and ever shall remain.  
No man in war so meet, an enterprise to take:  
No man in peace that pleasured more of enemies friends to make.  
A Cato for his counsel: his head was surely such.  
Ne Theseus' friendship was so great, but Devorox was as much.  
A graff of so small grothe, so much good fruit to bring:  
Is seldom heard, or never seen: it is so rare a thing.  
A man sent us from God, his life did well declare,  
And now sent for by God again, to teach us what we are.  
Death, and the grave, that shall accompany all that live,  
Hath brought him heaven, though somewhat soon, which life could never give  
God grant well all, that shall profess as he professed:  
To live so well, to die no worse: and send his soul good rest.   

They of the mean estate are happiest.  
IF right be racked, and overrun:  
And power take part with open wrong:  
If fear my force do yield to soon,  
The lack is like to last to long.  
If God for goods shallbe unplaced:  
If right for riches lose his shape:  
If world for wisdom be embraced:  
The guess is great, much hurt may hap.  
Among good things, I prove and find,  
The quiet life doth most abound:  
And sure to the contented mind  
There is no riches may be found.  
For riches hates to be content:  
Rule is enemy to quietness.  
Power is most part impatient:  
And seldom likes to live in pease.  
I heard a herdman once compare:  
That quiet nights he had more slept:  
And had more marry days to spare:  
Then he, which ought the beasts, he kept.  
I would not have it thought hereby  
The Dolphin swim I mean to teach:  
Nor yet to learn the Falcon fly:  
I row not so far past my reach.  
But as my part above the rest,  
Is well to wish and well to will:  
So till my breath shall fail my breast,  
I will not cease to wish you still.   

Comparison of life and death.  
THe life is long, that loathsomely doth last:  
The doleful days draw slowly to their date:  
The present pangs, and painful plagues forepast  
Yield grief aye green to establish this estate.  
So that I feel, in this great storm, and strife,  
The death is sweet that endeth such a life.  
Yet by the stroke of this strange overthrow,  
At which conflict in thraldom I was thrust:  
The Lord be praised: I am well taught to know  
From whence man came, and eke whereto he must:  
And by the way upon how feeble force  
His term doth stand, till death doth end his course.  
The pleasant years that seem, so swift that run  
The merry days to end, so fast that fleet:  
The joyful nights, of which day daweth so soon.  
The happy hours, which more domisse than meet,  
Do all consume: as snow against the sun:  
And death makes end of all, that life begunne●  
Since death shall dure, till all the world be waste.  
what meaneth man to dread death then so sore?  
As man might make, that life should always last.  
Without regard, the lord hath led before  
The dance of death, which all must run on row:  
Though how● or when: the Lord alone doth know.  
If man would mind, what burdens life doth bring:  
What grievous crimes to Go● he doth commixed:  
what plagues, what pangs, what per●iles thereby spring:  
With no sure hour in all his days to ●it:  
He would sure think, as with great cause I do:  
The day of death were better of the two.  
Death is a port, whereby we pass to joy.  
Life is a lake, that drowneth all in pain.  
Death is so dear, it ceaseth all annoy.  
Life is so lewd, that all it yields is vain.  
And as by life to bondage man is brought:  
Even so likewise by death was freedom wrought.  
Wherefore with Paul, let all men wish and pray  
To be dissolved of this foul fleshly mass:  
Or at the least be armed against the day:  
That they be found good soldiers, priest to pass  
From life to death: from death to life again  
To such a life, as ever shall remain.   

The tale of Pygmalion with conclusion upon the beauty of his love.  
IN Grece sometime there dwelled a man of worthy fame:  
To grave in stone his cunning was: Pygmalion was his name,  
To make his fame endure, when death had him bereft:  
He thought it good, of his own hand some filled work were left.  
In secret study then such work he 'gan devise,  
●s might his cunning best commend, and please the lookers eyess  
A courser fair he thought to grave, barbd for the field:  
And on his back a seemly knight, well armed with spear & shield:  
Or else some foul, or fish to grave he did devise:  
And still, within his wandering thoughts, new fancies did arise.  
Thus varied he in mind, what enterprise to take:  
Till fancy moved his learned hand a woman fair to make.  
Whereon he stayed, and thought such perfect form to frame:  
Whereby he might amaze all Grece, and win immortal name.  
Of ivory white he made so fair a woman than:  
That nature scorned her perfitness so taught by craft of man.  
Well shaped were her limbs, full comely was her face:  
Each little vain most lively couched, each part had seemly grace.  
Twixt nature & Pygmalion, there might appear great strife,  
So seemly was this image wrought, it lacked nothing but life.  
His curious eye beheld his own devised work:  
And, gazing oft thereon, he found much venom there to lurk.  
For all the featured shape so did his fancy move:  
That, with his idol, whom he made, Pygmalion fell in love.  
To whom he honour gave, and decked with garlands sweet.  
And did adourn with jewels rich, as is for lovers meet.  
Sometimes on it he fawned: sometime in rage would cry:  
It was a wonder to behold, how fancy bleared his eye.  
Since that this image dumb inflame so wise a man:  
My deer alas, since I you love, what wonder is it than?  
In whom hath nature set the glory of her name:  
And broke her mould, in great despair, your like she could not frame.   

The lover showeth his woeful state, and prayeth pity.  
Like as the Lark within the Marlians foot  
With piteous tunes doth chirp her yelden lay:  
So sing I now, seeing none other boot,  
My rendering song, and to your well obey.  
Your virtue mounts above my force so high.  
And with your beauty seized I am so sure:  
That there avails resistance none in me,  
But patiently your pleasure to endure.  
For on your will my fancy shall attend:  
My life, my death, I put both in your choice:  
And rather had this life by you to end,  
Than live, by other always to rejoice.  
And if your cruelty do thirst my blood:  
Then let it forth if it may do you good.   

Upon consideration of the state of this life he wisheth death.  
THe longer life, the more offence:  
The more offence the greater pain,  
The greater pain, the less defence:  
The less defence, the lesser gain  
The loss of gain long ill doth try●:  
Wherefore come death, and let me die.  
The shorter life, less count I find,  
The less account, the sooner made:  
The count soon made, the merrier mind:  
The merrier mind doth thought evade,  
Short life in truth this thing doth try.  
Wherefore come death, and let me die.  
Come gentle death, the ebb of care,  
The ebb of care the flood of life.  
The flood of life, the joyful fare,  
The joyful fa●e, the end of strife,  
The end of strife, that thing wish I:  
wherefore come death, and let me die.   

The lover that once disdained love is now become subject being canght in his snare.  
TO this my song give ear who list  
And mine ●ntent judge as ye will,  
The time is come, that I have myste,  
The thing whereon I hoped still,  
And from the top of all my trust,  
Mishap hath thrown me in the dust.  
The time hath been and that of late:  
My heart and I might leap at large,  
And was not shut within the gate  
Of loves desire: nor took no charge  
Of any thing, that did pertain  
As touching love in any pain  
My thought was free, my heart was light,  
I marked not, who lost, who sought,  
I played by day, I slept by night  
I forced not, who wept, who laughed.  
My thought from all such things was free.  
And I myself at liberty.  
I took no heed to taunts nor toys,  
As leef to see them frown as smile:  
where fortune laughed I scorned their joys  
I found their frauds and every wile.  
And to myself oft times I smiled.  
To see how love had them beguiled  
Thus in the net of my conceit  
I masked still among the sort  
Of such as fed upon the bait,  
That Cupid laid for his disport,  
And ever as I saw them caught:  
I them beheld, and there at laughed.  
Till at the length when Cupid spied  
My scornful will and spiteful use  
And how I passed not who was tied,  
So that myself might still live lose:  
He set himself to lie in wait,  
And in my way he threw a bait  
Such one as nature never made,  
I dare well say save she alone,  
Such one she was as would invade  
A heart, more hard than marble stone,  
Such ●ne she is, I know it right.  
Her nature made to show her might  
Then as a man in a maze,  
when use of reason is away:  
So I began to stare and gaze,  
And suddenly, without delay,  
Or ever I had the wit to look:  
I swallowed up both bai● and hook.  
Which daily grieves me more and more,  
By sundry sorts of careful woe:  
And none alive may salve the sore.  
But only she t●at hurt me so.  
In whom my life doth now consist  
To save or slay me as she list.  
But seeing now that I am caught,  
And bound so fast, I cannot flee:  
Be ye by mine ensample taught,  
That in your fancies feel you free,  
Despise not them, that lovers are:  
Lest you be caught within his snare,   

Of Fortune, and fame.  
THe plague is great, where fortune frowns:  
One mischief brings a thousand woes  
Where trumpets g●ue their warlike sown●s:  
The week sustain, sharp overthrows,  
No better life they take and feel,  
That subject are to fortunes wheel.  
Her happy chance may last no time:  
Her pleasure threateneth pains to come,  
She is the fall of those that clime:  
And yet her whe●e avanceth ●ome  
No force where that she hates, or loves:  
Her fickle mind so oft removes  
She gives no gift, but craves as fast.  
She soon repentes a thankful deed,  
She turneth after every blast.  
She helps them oft, that have no need.  
Where power dwells, and riches rest:  
False Fortune is a common gest.  
Yet some affirm and prove by sail:  
Fortune is not a sleing fame,  
She neither can do good, nor ill,  
She hath no form, yet bears a name,  
Then we but strive against the streams,  
To frame such joys on fancies dreams.  
If she have shape, or name alone:  
I● she do rule or bear no sway:  
If she have body, life or none:  
Be she a spirit I can not say.  
But well I wots, some cause there is:  
That causeth woe, and sendeth bliss.  
The causes of things I will not blame:  
Lest I offend the prince of peace,  
But I may chide, and brawl with ●ame:  
To make her cry, and never cease  
To blow the trump within her ears:  
That may appease my woeful tears.   

Against wicked tongues.  
O Evil tongues, which clap at every wind:  
Ye slay the quick, and eke the dead defame:  
Those that live well, some fault in them ye find,  
Ye take no thought in sclaundring their good name,  
Ye put just men oft times to open shame,  
Ye ring so loud, ye sound unto the skies:  
A●d yet in proof, ye sow nothing but ly●s.  
Ye make great war, where peace hath been of long  
Ye bring rich realms to ruin and decay,  
Ye pluck down right: ye enhance the wrong.  
Ye turn sweet mirth to woe, and well away  
Of mischiefs all ye are the ground I say,  
Happy is he, that lives on such a sort:  
That needs not fear such tongues of false report.   

Hell tormenteth not the damned ghosts so sore, as unkindness the lover.  
THe restless ●age of deep devouring hell,  
The blazing brands, that never do consume:  
The roaring rout, in Pluto's den that dwell,  
The fiery breath, that from those imps doth fume:  
The dropsy drieth, that Tantal in the flood  
Endureth ay, all hopeless of relief:  
He hunger starven, where fruit is ready food  
So wretchedly his soul doth suffer grief:  
The liver gnawn of guileful Promethus.  
Which Uultures fell with strained talant tire:  
The labour lost of wearied Sisyphus:  
These hellish hounds, with pains of quenchless fire,  
Can not so sore the silly soul's torment,  
As her untruth my heart hath all to rend.   

Of the mutability ●f the world.  
BY fortune as I lay in bed, my fortune was to find  
Such fancies, as my careful thought had brought into my mind  
And when each one was gone to rest full soft in bed to lie:  
I would have slept, but than the watch did follow still mine eye,  
And suddenly I saw a sea of woeful sorrows priest:  
whose wicked ways of sharp repulse bred mine unquiet rest,  
I saw this world and how it went, each state in his degree,  
And that from wealth I granted is, both life and liberty.  
I saw how envy it did rain, and bear the greatest price,  
Yet greater poison is not found within the Cockatrice.  
I saw also, how that disdain oft times to forge my woe,  
Gave me the cup of bitter sweat to pledge my mortal foo,  
I saw also, how that desire, to rest no place could find  
But still constrained in endless pain to follow nature's kind  
I saw, also most strange of all, how nature did forsake  
The blood, that in her womb, was wrought, as doth the loathed snake.  
I saw, how fancy would retain no longer than her lust,  
And as the wind how she doth change, and is not for to trust.  
I saw, how, steadfastness did fly with wings of often change,  
A flying bird, but seldom seen, her nature is so strange,  
I saw, how pleasant times did pass, as flowers do in the meed  
To day that riseth red as rose, to morrow falleth ded.  
I saw, my time how it did run, as sand out of the glass.  
Even as each hour appointed is, from time and tide to pass,  
I saw, the years that I had spent, and loss of all my game  
And how the sport of youthful plays my folly did retain,  
I saw, how that the little Ant in summer still doth run  
To seek her food, whereby to live in wiuter for to come,  
I saw, eke virtue, how she sat the thread of life to spin,  
which showeth the end of every work, before it doth begin,  
And when all these I thus beheld with many in● pardy,  
In me, me thought, each one had wrought a perfie property.  
And then I said unto myself, a lesson this shallbe  
For other, that shall afteh come, for to beware by me  
Thus all the night I did devise, which way I might constaine  
To form a plot, that wit might work these branches in my brain   

Harpalus complaint of Phillidays love bestowed on Corin, who loved her not: and denied him that loved her.  
PHyllida was a fair maid,  
As fr●sh as any flower,  
Whom Harpalus the herdman prayed  
To be his paramour.  
Harpalus and eke Corin  
were herdsmen both yfere:  
and Phyllida could twist and spin  
And thereto s●ng full clear  
But Phyllida was all to coy,  
For harpalus to win  
For Corin was her only joy,  
who forced her not a pin,  
How often would she flowers twine  
How often garlands make:  
Of Cousips and of Columbine.  
And all for Corins' sake.  
But Corin he had Hawks to lure  
And forced more the field:  
Of lovers law he took no cure  
For once he was beguiled.  
Harpalus prevailed nought  
His labour all was lost:  
For he was farthest from her thought  
And yet he loved her most.  
Therefore waxed he both pale and lean  
And dry as clod of clay:  
His flesh it was consumed clean  
His colowr gone a way,  
His beard it had not long be shave,  
His here hung all unkempt:  
A ●●n most fit even for the grave  
Whom spiteful love had spent.  
His eyes were red and all forewatched  
His face besprent with tears:  
It seemed unhap had him long hatched,  
In mids of his despairs.  
His clothes were black and also bare  
As one forlorn was he,  
Upon his head always he ware,  
A wreath of willow tree  
His beasts he kept upon the hill,  
And he sa●e in the dale:  
And thus with sighs and sorrows shrill,  
●egan to tell his tale.  
O Harpalus (thus would he say)  
Unhappiest undersunne  
The cause of thine unhappy day  
By love was first begun.  
For thou went'st first by suit to seek  
A Tiger to make tame:  
That sets not by thy love a leek  
But makes thy grief her game.  
As easy it were for to cowert  
The frost into the flame:  
As for to turn a froward heart  
Whom thou so feign wouldst frame●  
Corin he liveth careless  
He leaps among the leaves  
He eats the fruits of thy redress  
Thou reaps: he takes the sheaves.  
My beasts a while your food refrain  
And hark your herdsman's sound,  
Whom spiteful love alas hath slain  
Through girt with many a wound,  
O happy be ye beasts wild  
That here your pastures takes,  
I see that ye be not beguiled  
Of these your faithful makes.  
The heart he feedeth by the ●inde  
The Buck hard by the Do  
The turtle Dove is not unkind  
To him that loves her so,  
The Ewe she hath by her the Ram  
The young Cow hath the Bull,  
The Cal●e with many a lusty Lamb  
Do feed their hungerfull.  
But wellaway that nature wrought  
Thee ●hi●t day so fair,  
For I may say that I have bough●  
Thy beauty all to dear.  
What reason is it that cruelty  
With beauty should have part.  
Or else that such great tyranny  
Should dwell in woman's heart.  
I see therefore to shape my death  
She cruelly is priest,  
To th'end that I may want my breath  
My days been at the best.  
O Cupyde grant this my request  
And do not stop thine ears,  
That she may feel within her breast,  
The pains of my despairs.  
Of Corin that is careless,  
That she may crave her fee,  
As I have done in great distress  
That loved her faithfully.  
But sins that I shall die her slave  
Her slave and eke her thr●ll,  
Writ you my friends, upon my grave  
This chance that is befall.  
He●e lieth unhappy Harpelus  
By cruel love now slain,  
Whom Philida unjustly thus  
Hath murdered with disdain.   

Upon sir james wilfordes death.  
LO here the end of man the cruel sisters three  
The web of wilfordes life uneath had hal●e esponne,  
When rash upon mildede they all accorded be  
To break of virtues course ere half the race were run  
And trip him on his way that else had won the game  
And holden highest place within the house of feign,  
But yet though he be gone, though sense with him be past,  
Which trod the even steps that leaden to renown,  
We that remain alive, ne suffer shall to waste  
The fame of his deserts, so shall he lose but sown,  
The thing shall aye remain, aye kept as fresh in store  
As if his ears should ring of that he wrought before.  
Wail not therefore his want, sith he so left the stage  
Of care and wretched life, with joy and clap of hands  
Who playeth longer parts, may well have greater age,  
But few so well may pass the gulf of fortunes sands  
So tryedly did he tread ay priest at virtues beck  
That fortune found no place to give him once a check.  
The fates have rid him hence, who shall not after go,  
Though earshed be his corpse yet flourish shall his fame,  
A gladsome thing it is, that ere he stepped us fro,  
Such mirrors he us left our life thereby to frame,  
Wherefore his praise shall last aye fresh in britons sight,  
Till sun shall cease to shine, and lend the earth his light.   

Of the wretchedness in this world.  
WHo list to live upright, and hold himself content,  
Shall see such wonders in this world, as never erst was sent,  
Such groping for the sweet, such tasting of the sour,  
Such wandering here for worldly wealth that lost is in one how●●.  
And as the good or bad, get up in high degree,  
So wades the world in right or wrong, it may none other be.  
And look what laws they make, each man must them obey,  
And yoke himself with patient heart, to drive and draw that w●●●  
Yet such as long ago, great rulers were assigned,  
Both lives and laws are now forgot & worn clean out of mind  
So that by this I see, no state on earth may last  
But as their times appointed be, to rise and fall as fast,  
The goods that gotten be, by good and just desert,  
Yet use them that so needy hands may help to spend the part,  
For look what heap thou, hordst of rusty gold in store,  
Thine enemies shall waste the same, that never swat therefore.   

The repentant sinner in durance and adversity.  
Unto the living Lord for pardon do I pray,  
From whom I grant, even from the well, & have run 〈◊〉 astray.  
And other lives there none (my death shall well declare)  
On whom I ought to grate for grace, as faulty folks do far.  
But thee, O Lord alone, I have offended so,  
That this small scourge is much to scant for mine offence I know  
I ran without return, the way the world liked best,  
And what I ought most to regard, that I respected lest,  
The through wherein I thrust hath thrown me in such case  
That lord my soul is sore beset without thy greater grace.  
My guilts are grown so great, my power doth so appair,  
That with great force they argue oft, and mercy much despair.  
But then with faith I flee to thy prepared store,  
Where there lieth help for every hurt, and sa●●e for every sore,  
My lost time to lament, my vain ways to bewail,  
No day, no night, no place no hour, no moment I shall fail.  
My soul shall never cease with an assured faith  
To knock, to crave, to call, to cry, to thee for help, which saith:  
Knock and it shallbe heard, but ask, and given it is,  
And all that like to keep this course: of mercy shall not miss.  
For when I call to mind how the one wandering sheep,  
Did bring more joy with his return, than all the flock did 〈◊〉  
It yields full hope and trust, my strayed and wandering gho●●●  
Sa●he received and h●ld more dear, than those were never lost.  
O Lord my hope behold, and for my help make haste,  
To pardon the forepast race that careless I have passed.  
And but the day draw near that death must pay the det●  
For love, of life which thou hast lent and time of payment set.  
From this sharp shower me shield which threatened is at hand,  
Whereby thou shalt great power declare, & I the storm withstand  
Not my will Lord, but thine, fulfilleth be in each case,  
To whose great will & mighty power, all powers shall once give place  
My faith, my hope, trust, my God and eke my guide,  
Stretch forth thy hand to save the soul, what so the body hide,  
Refuse not to receive that thou so dear hast bought,  
For but by thee alone I know, all safety in vain is sought.  
I know and knowledge eke, albeit very late,  
That thou it is I ought to love and dread in each estate.  
And with repentant heart, d●elaude the Lord on high,  
That hast so gently set me strait, that erst walked so awry,  
Now grant me grace my God to stand thine strong in spirit,  
And le● the world then work such ways, a●●o the world seems met●.   

The lover here telleth of his divers joys and adversities in love and lastly of his lady's death.  
Sith singing gladdeth oft the hearts  
Of them that feel the pangs of love:  
And for the while doth ease their smarts:  
Myself I shall the same way prove.  
And though that love hath smit the stroke.  
whereby is lost my liberty:  
Which by no means I may revoke:  
Yet shall I sing, how pleasantly.  
Nigh twenty years of youth I passed:  
Which all in liberty I spent:  
And so from first unto the last,  
Ere aught I knew, what loving meant,  
And after shall I sing the woe,  
The pain, the grief, the deadly smart:  
When love this life did overthrow,  
That hidden lies within my heart.  
And then, the joys, that I did feel.  
When fortune lifted after this,  
And set me high upon her wheel:  
And changed my woe to pleasant bliss,  
And so the sudden fall again  
From all the joys, that I was in.  
All you, that list to hear of pain,  
give care, for now I do begin.  
Lo, first of all, when love began  
With hot desires my heart to burn:  
Me thought, his might availed not then  
From liberty my heart to turn.  
For I was free: and did not know,  
How much his might man's heart may gre●●,  
I had professed to be his fo:  
His law, I thought not to believe,  
I went untied in lusty leas,  
I had my wish always at will:  
There was no woe, might me displease:  
Of pleasant joys I had my fill.  
No painful thought did pass my heart:  
I spilled no tear to wet my breast:  
I knew no sorrow, sigh, nor smart,  
My greatest grief was quiet rest.  
I broke no sleep, I tossed not:  
Nor did delight to sit alone.  
I felt no change of cold and hot:  
Nor nought a anights could make me moon.  
For all was joy that I did feel:  
And of void wandering I was free.  
I had no clog tied at my heel:  
This was my life at liberty.  
That yet me thinks it is a bliss,  
To think upon that pleasure past.  
But forthwithall I find the miss,  
For that it might no longer last.  
Those days I spent at my desire,  
Without woe or adversity:  
Till that my heart was set a fire,  
With love, with wrath, and jealousy.  
For on a day (alas the while)  
Lo, hear my harm how it began:  
The blinded Lord, the God of guile  
Had list to end my freedom than.  
And through mine eye into my heart  
All suddenly I felt it glide.  
He shot his sharped fiery dart,  
So hard, that yet under my side  
The head (alas) doth still remain,  
And yet since could I never know,  
The way to wring it out again:  
Yet was it nigh three year ago.  
This sudden stroke made me aghast:  
And it began to vex me sore.  
But yet I thought, it would have passed,  
As other such had done before.  
But it did not that (woe is me)  
So deep imprinted in my thought,  
The stroke abode: that yet I see,  
Me thinks my harm how it was wrought.  
Kind taught me straight that this was love  
And I perceived it perfectly.  
Yet thought I thus: Nought shall me move:  
I will not thrall my liberty.  
And divers ways I did assay,  
By flight, by force, by friend, by foe,  
This fiery thought to put away.  
I was so loath for to forego  
My liberty: that me was liefer,  
Then bondage was, where I hard say:  
Who once was bound, was sure never  
Without great pain to scape away.  
But what for that, there is no choice,  
For my mishap was shapen so:  
That those my days that did rejoice,  
Should turn my bliss to bitter wo.  
For with that stroke my bliss took end.  
In stead whereof forth with I caught,  
Hot burning sighs, that sins have burnt,  
My wretched heart almost to nought.  
And sins that day, O Lord my life,  
The misery that it hath felt.  
That nought hath had, but woe and strife,  
And hot desires my heart to melt.  
O Lord how sudden was the change  
From such a pleasant liberty?  
The very thraldom seemed strange  
But yet there was no remedy.  
But I must yield, and give up all,  
And make my guide my chefist foe.  
And in this wise became I thrall,  
Lo, love and hap would have it ●o.  
I suffered wrong and held my peace,  
I gave my tears good leave to run:  
And never would seek for redress,  
●ut heaped to live as I begun.  
For what it was that might me ease,  
He lived not that might it know,  
Thus drank I all mine own disease:  
And all alone bewailed my wo.  
I here was no sight that might me please●  
I fled from them that did rejoice,  
And oft alone my 〈◊〉 to ●ase,  
I would bewail with woeful voice  
My life, my state, my misery,  
And curse myself & all my days.  
Thus wrought I with my fantasy,  
And sought my help none other ways.  
Save sometime to myself alone,  
When far of was my help God wots:  
Loud would I cry: My life is gone,  
My deer, if that ye help me not.  
Then wished I straight, that death might end  
These bitter pangs, and all this grief  
For nought, methought, might it amend.  
Thus in despair to have relief,  
I lingered forth: till I was brought  
with pining in so piteous case:  
That all, that saw me, said, methought:  
Lo, death is painted in his face.  
I went no where: but by the way  
I saw some sight before mine eyes:  
That made me sigh, and oft times say●  
My life, alas I thee despise.  
This lasted well a year, and more:  
Which no wight knew, but only I:  
So that my life was near for lore:  
And I despaired utterly.  
Till on a day, as fortune would:  
(For that, that shallbe, needs must fall)  
I sat me down, as though I should  
Have ended then my life, and al.  
And as I sat to write my plaint,  
Meaning to show my great unrest:  
With quaking hand, and heart full faint,  
Amid my plaints, among the rest,  
I wrote with ynk, and bitter tears:  
I am not mine, I am not mine:  
Behold my life, away that wears:  
And if I die the loss is thine.  
Herewith a little hope I caught:  
That for a while my life did stay.  
But in effect, all was for ●●ught.  
Thus lived I still: till on a day  
As I sat staring on those eyes:  
Those shining eyes, that first me bound:  
My inward thought though cried: Arise:  
Lo, mercy where it may be found.  
And therewithal I drew me near:  
With feeble heart, and at a bray,  
(But it was softly in her care)  
Mercy, Madam, was all, I said.  
But woe was me, when it was told,  
For therewithal fainted my breath:  
And I sat still for to behold,  
And hear the judgement of my death.  
But Love nor Hap would not consent,  
To end me then, but wellaway:  
There gave me bliss: that I repent  
To think I live to see this day.  
For after this I plained still  
So long, and in so piteous wise:  
That I my wish had at my will  
Granted, as I would it devise.  
But Lord who ever hard, or knew  
Of half the joy that I felt then?  
Or who can think it may be true,  
That so much bliss had ever man?  
Lo, fortune thus set me aloft:  
And more my sorrows to relieve,  
Of pleasant joys I tasted oft:  
As much as love or hap might give.  
The sorrows old, I felt before  
About my heart, were driven thence●  
And for each grief, I felt afore  
I had a bliss in recompense.  
Then thought I all the time well spent  
That I in plaint had spent so long.  
So was I with my life content:  
That to myself I said amoug.  
Sins thou art rid of all thine ill:  
To show thy joys set forth thy voice,  
And sins thou haste thy wish at will●  
My happy heart, rejoice, rejoice.  
Thus felt I joys a great deal 〈◊〉,  
Then by my song may well be told:  
And thinking on my passed woe,  
My bliss did double many fold.  
And thus I thought with man's blood,  
Such bliss might not be bought to dear.  
In such estate my joys then stode●  
That of a change I had no fear.  
But why sing ● so long of bliss?  
It lasteth not, that will away,  
Let me therefore bewail the miss:  
And sing the cause of my decay.  
Yet all this while there lived none,  
That led his life more pleasantly:  
Nor under hap there was not one,  
Me thought, so well at ease, as I.  
But O blind joy, who may thee trust?  
For no estate thou canst assure?  
Thy faithful vows prove all unjust:  
Thy fair behests be full unsure.  
Good proof by me: that but of late  
Not fully twenty days ago:  
Which thought my life was in such state:  
That nought might work my heart this wo.  
Yet hath the enemy of mine case,  
Cruel mishap, that wretched wight:  
Now when my life did most me please:  
Devised me such cruel spite.  
That from the highest place of all,  
As to the pleasing of my thought,  
Down to the deepest am I fall,  
And to my help availeth naught,  
Lo, thus are all my joys quite gone.  
And I am brought from happiness,  
Continually to wail, and moan.  
Lo, such is fortune's stableness.  
In wealth I thought such surety,  
That pleasure should have ended never.  
But now (alas) adversity,  
Doth make my singing cease ●or ever.  
O brittle joy, O wealth unstable:  
O frail pleasure, O sliding bliss,  
Who feels thee most, he shall not miss,  
At length to be made miserable.  
For all must end as doth my bliss:  
There is none other certainty.  
And at the end the worst is his,  
That most hath known prosperity.  
For he that never bliss assayed,  
May well away with wretchedness:  
But he shall find that hath it said,  
A pain to part from pleasantness:  
As I do now, for ere I knew  
What pleasure was, I felt no grief,  
Like unto this, and it is true,  
That bliss hath brought me all this mischief.  
But yet I have not sungen, how  
This mischief came: but I intent  
With woeful voice to sing it now:  
And therewithal I make an end.  
But Lord, now that it is begun,  
I feel, my spirits are vexed sore.  
Oh, give me breath till this be done:  
And after let me live no more.  
Alas, the enemy of this life,  
The ender of all pleasantness:  
Alas, he bringeth all this strife,  
And causeth all this wretchedness.  
For in the mids of all the wealth,  
That brought my heart to happiness:  
This wicked death he came by stealth,  
And robbed me of my joyfulness.  
He came, when that I little thought  
Of aught, that might me vex so sore:  
And suddenly he brought to nought  
My pleasantness for evermore.  
He slew my joy (alas, the wretch)  
He slew my joy, or I was ware:  
And now (alas) no might may stretch  
To set an end to my great care.  
For by this cursed deadly stroke,  
My bliss is lost, and I forlese:  
And no help may the loss revoke:  
For lost it is for evermore.  
And closed up are those fair eyes,  
That gave me first the sign of grace:  
My fair sweet foes, mine enemies,  
And earth doth hide her pleasant face.  
The look which did my life uphold:  
And all my sorrows did confound:  
With which more bliss than may be told:  
Alas, now lieth it under ground  
But cease● for I will sing no more:  
Since that my harm hath no redress:  
But as a wretch for evermore,  
My life will waste with wretchedness.  
And ending this my woeful song,  
Now that it ended is and past:  
I would my life were but as long:  
And that this word might be my last.  
For loathsome is that life (men say)  
That liketh not the livers mind:  
Lo, thus I seek mine own decay,  
And will, till that I may it find.   

Of his love name● white.  
FUll fair and white she is, and White by name:  
Whose white doth strive, the lilies white to stain:  
Who may contemn the blast of black defame:  
who in dark night, can bring day bright again.  
The ruddy rose inpreaseth with clear heew,  
In lips and cheeks, right orient to behold:  
That the nearer gazer may that beauty reew,  
And feel dispersed in limbs the chilling cold:  
For White, all white his bloodless face will be:  
The ashy pale so alter will his cheer.  
But I that do possess in full degree  
The hearty love of this my heart so dear:  
So oft to me as she presents her face,  
For joy do feel my heart spring from his place.   

Of the lovers unquiet stare.  
WHat thing is that which I both have and lack,  
with good will granted, yet it is denied  
How may I be received and put aback  
Always doing and yet unoccupied,  
Most slow in that which I have most applied,  
Still thus to seek, and lose all that I win,  
And that was done is newest to begin,  
In riches find I wilful poverty,  
In great pleasure, live I in heaviness.  
In much freedom I lack my liberty,  
Thus am I both in joy and in distress.  
And in few words if that I shall be plain,  
In Paradise I suffer all this pain.   

where good will is, some proof will appear.  
IT is no fire that gives no heat,  
Though it appear never so hot:  
And they that run and can not sweat,  
Are very lean and dry God wots,  
A perfect leech applieth his wits,  
To gather herbs of all degrees:  
And fevers with their fervent fits,  
Be cured with their contraries.  
New wine will search to find a vent,  
Although the cask be set so strong:  
And wit will walk when will is bend,  
Although the way be never so long.  
The Rabbits run under the rocks:  
The Snails do climb the highest towers:  
Gunpowder cleaves the sturdy blocks.  
A fervent will all thing devowers.  
When wit with will and diligent  
Apply themselves, and match as mates,  
There can no want of resident,  
From force defend the castle gates.  
Forgetfulness make little haste,  
And sloth delights to lie full soft:  
That telleth the deaf, his tale doth waste,  
And is full dry that craves full oft.   

Verses written on the picture of sir james wilford knight.  
ALas that ever death such virtues should forlet,  
As compassed was within his corpse, whose picture is here set.  
Or that it ever lay in any fortune's might,  
Through deep disdain to end his life that was so worthy a wight.  
For sith he first began in armour to be clad,  
A worthier champion than he was, yet England never had.  
And though recure be past, his life to have again,  
Yet would I wish his worthiness in writing to remain.  
That men to mind might call how far he did excel,  
At all assays to win the fame, which were to long to tell.  
And eke the restless race that he full oft hath run,  
In painful plight from place to place, where service was to done.  
Then should men well perceive, my tale to be of troth,  
And he to be the worthiest w●ght that ever nature wrought,   

The lady prayeth the return of her lover abiding on the seas.  
SHall I thus ever long, and be no whit the near,  
And shall I still complain to thee, the which me will not hear?  
Alas say nay, say nay, and be no more so doom,  
But open thou thy manly mouth, and say that thou wilt come.  
Whereby my heart may think, although I see not thee,  
That thou wilt come thy word so swore, if thou a lives man be.  
The roaring hugy waves, they threaten my poor ghost,  
And toss thee up and down the seas, in danger to be lost.  
Shall they not make me fear that they have swallowed thee,  
But as thou art most sure alive, so wilt thou come to me.  
Whereby I shall go see thy ship ride on the strand,  
And think and say ●o where he comes, and sure here will he land  
And then ● shall lift up to thee my little hand,  
And thou shalt think thine heart in ease, in health to see me stand.  
And if thou come in deed (as Christ thee send to do,)  
These arms which miss thee yet, shall then embrace thee to.  
Each vain to every joint, the lively blood shall spread,  
Which now for want of thy glad sight, doth show full pale & dead.  
But if thou slip thy troth and do not come at all,  
As minutes in the clock do strike so call for death I shall.  
To please both thy false heart, and rid myself from woe,  
That rather had to die in troth then live forsaken so.   

The mean estate is best.  
THe doubtful man hath fevers strange  
And constant hope is oft diseased,  
Despair cannot but breed a change,  
Nor fleeting hearts cannot be pleased.  
Of all these bad, the best I think,  
Is well to hope, though fortune shrink.  
Desired things are not ay priest,  
Nor things denied left all unsought,  
Nor new things to be loved best,  
Nor all offers to be set at nought,  
Where faithful heart hath been refused,  
The chosers' wit was there abused.  
The woeful ship of careful spirit,  
fleeting on seas of w●lling tears,  
With sails of wishes broken quite,  
Hanging on waves of doleful fears,  
By surge of sighs at wreck near hand,  
May fast no anchor hold on land.  
What helps the dial to the blind,  
Or else the clock without it sound.  
Or who by dreams doth hope to find,  
The hidden gold within the ground:  
Shallbe as free from cares and fears,  
As he that holds a Wolf by the cares.  
And how much mad is he that thinks  
To climb to heaven by the beams,  
What joy alas, hath he that winks,  
At Titan or his golden streams,  
His joys not subject to reasons laws,  
That joyeth more than he hath cause.  
For as the Phoenix that climbeth high,  
The sun lightly in ashes burneth,  
Again, the Falcon so quick of eye,  
soon on the ground the net masheth.  
Experience therefore the mean assurance,  
Prefers before the doubtful pleasance.   

The lover thinks no pain to great, whereby he may obtain his lady.  
SIth that the way to wealth is woe,  
And after pain is pleasure priest,  
Why should I than despair so,  
Ay bewailing mine unrest:  
Or let to lead my life in pain,  
So worthy a lady to obtain.  
The fisher man do●h count no care,  
To cast his nets to wrack or waste,  
And in reward of each man's share.  
A gogen gift is much embraced,  
Should I than grudge it grief or gall,  
That look at length to whelm a Whall.  
The poor man ploweth his ground for grain,  
And soweth his seed increase to crave,  
And for thexpense of all his pain,  
Oft holds it hap his seed to save,  
These patient pains my part doth show,  
To long for love ere that I know.  
And take no scorn to scape from skill,  
To spend my spirits to spare my speech,  
To win for wealth the want of will.  
And thus for rest to rage I reach,  
Running my race as rect upright:  
Till tears of truth appease my plight.  
And plant my plaint within her breast,  
Who doubtless may restore again,  
My harms to health, my ruth to rest.  
That laced is within her chain,  
For erst ne are the griefs so great:  
As is the joy when love is met.  
For who covets so high to climb,  
As doth the bird that pitfoll took,  
Or who delights so swift to swim,  
As doth the fish that escapes the hook,  
If these had never entered woe:  
How mought they have rejoiced so.  
But yet alas ye lovers all,  
That here me joy thus less rejoice,  
judge not amiss what so befall.  
In me there lieth no power of choice,  
It is but hope that doth me move:  
Who standard bearer is to love.  
On whose ensign when I behold,  
I see the shadow of her shape,  
Within my faith so fast I fold:  
Through dread I die, through hope I scape,  
Thus ease and woe full oft I find,  
What will you more she knoweth my mind.   

Of a new married student that played fast or lose.  
A Student at his book so placed:  
That wealth he might have won,  
From book to wife did fleet in haste,  
From wealth to woe to run.  
Now, who hath played a feater cast,  
Since juggling first begun?  
In knitting of himself so fast,  
Himself he hath undone.   

The mean estate is to be accounted the best.  
WHo craftily casts to steer his boat  
and safely s●oures the flattering flood:  
He cutteth not the greatest waves,  
for why that way w●re nothing good.  
Ne fleeteth on the crocked shore  
lest harm him hap awaiting lest.  
But wines away between them both,  
as who would say the mean is best.  
Who waiteth on the golden mean,  
he put in point of sickernes:  
Hides not his head in sluttish coats,  
ne shrouds himself in filthiness.  
Ne sits aloft in high estate,  
Where hateful hearts envy his chance:  
But wisely walks betwixt them twain,  
ne proudly doth himself advance  
The highest tree in all the wood  
is rifest rent with blustering winds:  
The higher hall the greater fall  
such chance have proud and lofty minds.  
When jupiter from high doth threat  
with mortal mace and dint of thunder  
The highest hills been batrid eft  
when they stand still that stooden under.  
The man whose head with wit is fraught  
in wealth will fear a worse tide  
When fortune fails despaireth nought  
but constantly doth still abide.  
For he that sendeth grisly storms  
with whisking winds and bitter blasts  
And fowlth with hail the winter's face,  
and frotes the soil with hoary frosts:  
Even he adawth the force of cold  
the spring in sends with summer hot:  
The same full oft to stormy hearts  
is cause of bale: of joy the root.  
Not always ill though so be now  
when clouds been driven, then rides the rack.  
Phoebus' the fresh ne shooteth still,  
sometime he haps his muse to wake.  
Stand stiff therefore, pluck up thy heart,  
lose not thy port though fortune fail.  
Again when wind doth serve at will,  
take heed to high to hoist thy sail.   

The lover refused, lamenteth his estate.  
I Lent my love to loss and gauged my life in vain,  
If hate for love and death for life of lovers be the gain.  
And curse I may by course the place eke time and hour  
That nature first in me did form to be a lives creature,  
Scythe that I must absent myself so secretly  
In place desert where never man my secrets shall descry:  
In doling of my days among the beasts so brute,  
Who with their tongues may not bewray the secrets of my suit.  
Nor I in like to them may once to move my mind  
But gaze on them and they on me, as beasts are wont of kind.  
Thus ranging as refused, to reach some place of rest,  
Ill ruff of hearer my nails unnocht, as to such seemeth best.  
That wander by their wits, deformed so to be,  
That men may say, such one may curse the time he first 'gan see  
The beauty of her face, her shape in such degree,  
As God himself may not discern, one place mended to be.  
Nor place it in like place, my fancy for to please,  
Who would become a herdsman's hire, one hour to have of ease.  
Whereby I might restore, to me some steadfastness.  
That have more thoughts heaped in my head them life may long disges  
As oft to throw me down upon the earth so cold,  
Whereas with tears most ruefully, my sorrows do unfold.  
And in beholding them. I chief call to mind,  
What woman could find in her heart, such bondnge for to bind.  
Then rashly forth I go, to cast me from that care,  
Like as the bird for food doth fly, and lighteth in the snare.  
From whence I may not move, until my race be run,  
So trained is my truth through her, that thinks my life well won.  
Thus toss I to and fro, in hope to have relief,  
But in the fine I find not so, it doubleth but my grief.  
Wherefore I will my want, a warning for to be,  
Unto all men, wishing that they, a mirror make of me.   

The felicity of a mind embracing virtue, that beholdeth the wretched desires of the world.  
WHen dreadful swelling seas, through boisterous windy blasts,  
So toss the ships, that all for nought, serves anchor, sail and mas●es.  
Who takes not pleasure then, safely on shore to rest,  
And see with dread and deep despair, how shipmen are distressed.  
Not that we pleasure take, when others felen smart,  
Our gladness groweth to see their harms, and yet to feel no part.  
Delight we take also, well ranged in array,  
When armies meet to see the fight, yet free be from the fray.  
But yet among the rest, no joy may match with this,  
Taspyre unto the temple high, where wisdom troned is.  
Defended with the saws of hoary heads expert,  
Which clear it keep from errors missed, that might the truth pervert  
From whence thou mayst look down, and see as under foot,  
Man's wandering will & doubtful life, from whence they take their root.  
How some by wit contend, by prows some to rise,  
Riches a●d rule to gain and hold, is all that men devise.  
O miserable minds, O hearts in folly drow,  
why see you not what blindness in this wretched life is spent?  
Body devoid of grief, mind free from care and dread,  
Is all and some that nature craves, wherewith our life to feed.  
So that for natures turn few things may well suffice,  
Dolour and grief clean to expel, and some delight surprice.  
Yea and i●●alleth oft, that nature more content  
Is with the less, than when the more to cause delight is spent.   

All worldly pleasures vade.  
THe winter with his grisly storms ne longer dare abide,  
The pleasant grass, with lusty green, the earth hath newly died  
The trees have leaves, the bows do●●pred, new changed is the year  
The water brooks are clean sonk down, the pleasant banks apere.  
The spring to come, the goodly nymphs now dasice in every place  
Thus hath the year most pleasantly of late ychangde his face.  
Hope for no immortality, for wealth will wear away,  
As we may learn by every year, yea hours of every day.  
For Zepharus doth mollify the cold and blustering winds:  
The summer's drought doth take away the spring out of our minds  
And yet the summer cannot last, but once must step aside,  
Then autumn thinks so keep his place, but Autumn cannot bide,  
For when he hath brought forth his fruits & stuffed the barns with corn  
Then winter eats and empties all, and thus is Autumn worn.  
Then hoary frosts possess the place, than tempests work much harm,  
Then rage of storms done make all cold, which summer had made so warm  
Wherefore l●t no man put his trust in that, that will decay,  
For slipper wealth will not continue, pleasure will wear away.  
For when that we have lost our life, and lie under a stone,  
What are we then: we are but earth, then is our pleasure gone.  
No man can tell what God almight of every wight doth cast,  
No man can say to day I live, till morn my life shall last.  
For when thou shalt before thy judge stand to receive thy doom,  
What sentence Minos doth pronounce that must of thee become.  
Then shall not noble stock and blood redeem the from his hands  
Nor sugared talk with eloquence shall lose thee from his bands.  
Nor yet thy life uprightly lead, can help thee out of hell,  
For who descendeth down so deep, must there abide and dwell.  
Diana could not thence deliver chaste Hippolytus,  
Nor Theseus could not call to life his friend Pirithous.   

A complaint of the loss of liberty by love.  
IN seeking rest, unrest I find,  
I find that wealth is cause of woe:  
woe worth the time that I inclined,  
To fix in mind her beauty so.  
That day be darkened as the night,  
Let furious rage it clean devour:  
Ne Sun nor Moon therein give light,  
But it consume with stream and shower.  
Let no small birds strain forth their voyc●,  
with pleasant tunes, ne yet no beast:  
Find cause whereat he may rejoice,  
That day when chanced mine unrest.  
Wherein alas from me was reached,  
Mine own free choice and quiet mind,  
My life me death in balance braught  
And reason razed through bark and rind,  
And I as yet in flower of age,  
Both wit and will did still advance:  
Ay to resist that burning rage:  
But when I dart than did I glance.  
Nothing to me did seem so high,  
In mind I could it strait attain:  
Fancy persuaded me thereby,  
Love to esteem a thing most vain.  
But as the bird upon the brier,  
Doth prick and prune her without care:  
Not knowing alas (poor fool) how near  
She is unto the fowler's snare.  
So I amid deceitful trust,  
Did not mistrust such woeful hap:  
Till cruel love ere that I witted  
Had caught me in his careful trap.  
Then did I feel, and partly know,  
How little force in me did reign:  
So soon to yield to overthrow,  
Do frail to flit from joy to pain.  
For when in wealth will did me lead  
Of liberty to hoist my sail:  
To hale at sheet and cast my lead,  
I thought free choice would still prevail.  
In whose calm streams I sailed so far,  
No raging storm had in respect:  
Until I raised a goodly star,  
whereto my course I did direct.  
In whose prospect in doolfull wise,  
My tackle failed, my compass broke?  
Through hot desires such storms did rise●  
That stern and top went all to wreck.  
Oh cruel hap, oh fatal chance,  
O Fortune why were thou unkind:  
Without regard thus in a trance,  
To reave from me my joyful mind.  
Where I was free now must I serve,  
Where I was lose now am I bound:  
In death my life I do preserve,  
As one through girt with many a wound.   

A praise of his Lady.  
Give place you Ladies and be gone,  
Boast not yourselves at all:  
For here at hand approacheth one:  
Who●e face will stain you all.  
The virtue of her lively looks,  
Excels the precious stone:  
I wish to have none other books  
To read or look upon.  
In each of her two crystal eyes,  
Smileth a naked boy:  
It would you all in heart suffice  
To see that lamp of joy.  
I think nature hath lost the mould,  
Where she her shape did take:  
Or else I doubt if nature could,  
So fair a creature make.  
She may be well compared  
Unto the Phoenix kind:  
Whose like was never seen nor heard,  
That any man can find.  
In life she is Diana cha●t,  
In troth Penelopey:  
In word and eke in deed steadfast,  
What will you more we say.  
If all the world were sought so far,  
Who could find such a wight:  
Her beauty twinkleth like a star,  
Within the frosty night.  
Her roseal colour comes and goes,  
With such a comely grace:  
Moore readier to than doth the rose,  
Within her lively face.  
At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet,  
Ne at no wanton play:  
Nor gazing in an open street,  
Nor gadding as a stray.  
The modest mirth that she doth use,  
Is mixed with shamefastness:  
All vice she doth wholly refuse,  
And hateth idleness.  
O lord it is a world to see,  
How virtue can repair:  
And deck in her such honesty,  
Whom nature made so fair.  
Truly she doth as far exceed,  
Our women now adays:  
As doth the jelifloure, a weed,  
And more a thousand ways.  
How might I do to get a graff:  
Of this unspotted tree.  
For all the rest are plain but chaff,  
Which seem good corn to be.  
This gift alone I shall her give.  
When death doth what he can:  
Her honest fame shall ever live,  
Within the mouth of man.   

The poor estate to be holden for best.  
Experience now doth show what God us taught before,  
Desired pomp is vain, and seldom doth it last:  
Who climbs to reign with kings, may rue his fate full sore●  
Alas the woeful end that ●omes with care full fast,  
Reject him doth renown his pomp● full low is cast●.  
Deceived is the bird by sweetness of the call  
Expel that pleasant taste, wherein is bitter gall.  
Such as with oaten cakes in poor estate abides,  
Of care have they no cure, the crab with mirth they roast,  
More ease feel they then those, that from their height down slides  
Excess do●h breed their woe, they fail in Sulla's cost,  
Remaining in the storms till ship and all be lost.  
Serve God therefore thou poor, for lo, thou lives in rest,  
Eschew the golden hall, thy thatched house is besT.   

The complaint of Thestilis amid the desert wood.  
THestilis a silly man, when love did him forsake,  
In mourning wise, amid the woods thus 'gan his plaint to mak●  
Ah woeful man (quoth he) fallen is thy lot to moan  
And pine away with careful thoughts, unto thy love unknown  
Thy lady thee forsakes whom thou didst honour so  
That ay to her thou were a friend, and to thyself a foe.  
Ye lovers that have lost your hearts desired choice,  
Lament with me my cruel hap, & help my trembling voice.  
Was never man that stood so great in fortune's grace:  
Nor with his sweet alas to dear possessed so high a place.  
As I whose simple heart aye thought himself full sure,  
But now I see high springing tides they may not aye endure.  
She knows my giltelesse heart, and yet she lets it pine,  
Of her untrue professed love so feeble is the twine.  
What wonder is it than, if I berent my hears,  
And carving death continually do bathe myself in tears,  
When Croesus' king of Lide was cast in cruel bands,  
And yielded goods and life also into his enemy's hands.  
What tongue could tell his woe, yet was his grief much less  
Than mine: for I have lost my love which might my woe redresse●  
Ye woods that shroud my limbs give now your hollow sound,  
That ye may help me to bewail the cares that me confound.  
Ye rivers rest a while and stay the streams that run,  
Rew Thestilis most woeful man that lives under the sun.  
Transport my sighs ye winds unto my pleasant foe,  
My trickling tears shall witness bear of this my cruel woe●  
O happy man were I if all the gods agreed:  
That now the sisters three should cut in twain my fatal thread.  
Till life with love shall end I here resign all joy:  
Thy pleasant sw●te I now lament whose lack bredes mine annoy  
Farewell my dear therefore farewell to me well known:  
If that I die it shallbe said that thou hast slain thine own.   

An answer of comfort.  
THestilis thou silly man, why dost thou so complain,  
If needs thy love will thee forsake, thy mourning is in vain.  
For none can force the streams against ●heir course to run,  
Nor yet unwilling love with tears or w●●lyng can be wonne●  
Cease thou therefore thy plaints, let hope thy sorrows ease,  
The shipmen though their sails be rend yet hope to scape the seas  
Though strange she serve a while, yet think she will not change  
Good causes drive a lady's love, sometime to seem full strange,  
No lover that hath wit, but can foresee such hap,  
That no wight can at wish or will sleep in his lady's lap.  
Achilles for a time fair Brise's did forego,  
Yet did they meet with joy again, then think thou mayst do so.  
Though he and lovers all in love sharp storms do find,  
Despair not thou poor Thestilis though thy love seem unkind,  
Ah think her graffed love cannot so soon decay,  
High springs may cease from swelling still, but never dry away  
Oft storms of lovers ire, do more their love increase:  
As shining sun refresh the fruits when raining gins to cease.  
When springs are waxen low, then must they flow again,  
So shall thy heart advanced be, to pleasure out of pain.  
When lack of thy delight most bitter grief appears,  
Think on Etrascus' worthy love that lasted thirty years,  
Which could not long achieve his hearts desired choice,  
Yet at the end he found reward that made him to rejoice.  
Since he so long in hope with patience did remain,  
Can not thy fervent love forbear thy love a month or twain?  
Admit she mind to change and needs will thee forego,  
Is there no more may thee delight but she that pains thee so?  
Thestilis draw to the town and love as thou hast done,  
In time thou knowest by faithful love as good as she is won.  
And leave the desert woods and wailing thus alone,  
And seek to salve thy sore else were, if all her love be gone.   

¶ The lover prayeth pity showing that nature hath taught his dog as it were to sue for the same by kissing his lady's hands.  
NAture that taught my silly dog god wat:  
Even for my sake to like where I do love,  
Enforced him whereas my lady sat  
With humble suit before her falling flat.  
As in his sort he might her pray and move  
To rue upon his lord and not forget  
The steadfast faith he beareth her and love,  
Kissing her hand whom she could not remove.  
A way that would for frowning nor for threat  
As though he would have said in my behove.  
Pity my lord your slave that doth remain,  
Lest by his death, you guiltless slay us twain.   

Of his ring sent to his lady.  
SInce thou my ring mayst go where I ne may.  
Since thou mayst speak, where I must hold my peace.  
Say unto her that is my lives stay,  
graven within which I do here express:  
That sooner shall the sun not shine by day,  
And with the rain the floods shall waxed less.  
Sooner the tree the hunter shall bewrays  
Then I for change, or choice of other love,  
Do ever seek my fancy to remove.   

The changeable state of lovers.  
FOr that a restless head must somewhat have in ure  
Wherewith it may acquainted be, as falcon is with lure.  
●ansy doth me awake out of my drowsy sleep,  
In seeing how the little Mouse, at night gins to creep.  
So the desirous man, that longs to catch his prey,  
In spying how to watch his time, lieth lurking still by day,  
In hoping for to have, and fearing for to find  
The salve that should recure his sore, & sorroweth but the mind.  
Such is the guise of love, and the uncertain state,  
That some should have their hoped hap, and other hard estate.  
That some should seem to joy in that they never had,  
And some again shall frown as fast, where causeless they be sad.  
Such trades do lovers use when they be most at large,  
That guide the steer when they themselves lie fettered in the barge.  
The greenness of my youth cannot thereof express  
The process, for by proof unknown, all this is but by ges●●.  
Wherefore I hold it best, in time to hold my peace,  
But wanton will it cannot hold, or make my pen to cease.  
A pen of no avail, a fruitless labour eke,  
My troubled head with fancy's fraught, doth pain itself to seek.  
And if perhaps my words of none avail do prick,  
Such as do feel the hidden harms, I would not they should kick.  
As causeless me to blame which thinketh them no harm,  
Although I seem by ●thers fire, sometime myself to warm.  
Which clearly I deny, as guiltless of that crime,  
And though wrong denied I be therein, truth it will try in time.   

A praise of Audley.  
WHen Audley had run out his race, and ended were his days  
His fame stepped forth & ●ad me write of him some wortht praise  
What life he ●ad, what acts he did: his virtues and good name,  
Whereto I called for true report as witness of the same.  
Well born he was, well bend by kind, whose mind did never swerve  
A skilful head, a valiant heart, a ready hand to serve.  
Brought up & trained in feats of war long time beyond the seas  
Called home again to serve his prince, whom still he sought to please  
What tornay was there he refused, what service did he shoes,  
Where he was not nor his advice, what great exploit was done?  
In town a Lamb, in field full fierce, a Lion at the need,  
In sober wit a Solomon, yet one of Hector's seed.  
Then shame it were that any tongue should now defame his dedes●  
That in his life a mirror was to all that him succeeds.  
No poor estate nor high renown his nature could pervart,  
No hard mischance that him befell could move h●s constant hart●  
Thus long he lived, loved of all, as one misliekt of none.  
And where he went who called him not the gentle Paragon.  
But course of kind doth cause each fruit to fall when it is ripe,  
And spiteful death will suffer none to scape his grievous gripe.  
Yet though the ground received have his corpse into her womb,  
This epitaph ygrave in brass, shall stand upon his tomb.  
Lo here he lies that hateth vice, and virtues life unbrast,  
His name in earth, his spirit above, deserves to be well placed.   

Time trieth truth.  
Each thing I see hath time, which time must try my truth,  
Which truth deserves a special trust, on trust great friendship groweth.  
And friendship may not fail where faithfulness is sound,  
And faithfulness is full of fruit, and fruitful things be ●ound.  
And sound is good at proof, and proof is prince of praise,  
And precious praise is such a pearl, as seldom ner decay.  
All these things time tries forth, which time I must abide,  
How should I boldly credit crave till time my truth have tried.  
For as I found a time to fall in fancies frame,  
So I do wish a lucky time for to declare the same.  
If hap may answer hope, and hope may have his ●ire,  
Then shall my heart possess in peace the time that I desire.   

The lover refused of his love embraceth death.  
MY youthful years are past,  
My joyful days are gone;  
My life it may not last,  
My grave and I am one.  
My mirth and joys are fled,  
And I a man in woe:  
Desirous to be dead,  
My mischief to forego.  
I burn and am a cold,  
I freze amids the fire:  
I see she doth withhold  
That is my most desire.  
I see my help at hand,  
I see my life also:  
I see where she doth stand  
That is my deadly fo.  
I see how she doth see,  
And yet she will be blind:  
I see in helping me,  
She seeks and will not find.  
I see how she doth wry,  
When I begin to moon:  
I see when I come nigh,  
How feign she would begun.  
I see what will ye more  
She will me gladly kill:  
And you shall see therefore  
That she shall have her will.  
I can not live with stones  
It is to hard a food:  
I will be dead at ones  
To do my lady good.   

The picture of a lover.  
BEhold my picture here well portrayed for the nonce.  
With heart consumed and falling flesh, behold the very bones.  
Whose cruel chance alas and destiny is such,  
Only because I put my trust in some folk all to much.  
For sins the time that I did enter in this pine,  
I never saw the rising sun but with my weeping eyen.  
Nor yet I never heard so sweet a voice or ●ound,  
But that to me it did increase the dolour of my wound.  
Nor in so soft a bed, alas I never lay,  
But that it seemed hard to me or ever it was day,  
Yet in this body bare● that nought but life retains,  
The strength whereof clean passed away the care yet still remain.  
Like as the coal in flame doth spend itself you see,  
To vain and wretched cinder dust till it consumed be.  
So doth this hope of mine enforce my fervent suit,  
To make me for to gape in vain, whilst other eat the fruit.  
And shall do till the death doth give me such a grace,  
To rid this silly woeful spirit out of this doleful case.  
And then would God were writ in stone or else in lead,  
This epitaph upon my grave, to show why I am dead.  
Here lieth the lover lo, who for the love he aught,  
Alive unto his lady dear, his death thereby he caught.  
And in a shield of black, lo here his arms appears,  
With weeping eyes as you may see, well powdered all with tears.  
Lo here you may behold, aloft upon his breast,  
A woman's hand straining the heart of him that loved her best.  
Wherefore all you that see this corpse for love that starves,  
Example make unto you all, that thankless lovers sarues.   

Of the death of Phillips.  
Bewail with me all ye that have professed,  
Of music thou'rtart by touch of cord or wind:  
Lay down your lutes and let your gitterns rest.  
philip's is dead whose like you can not find.  
Of music much exceeding all the rest,  
Muses therefore of force now must you wrest,  
Your pleasant notes into an other sound,  
The string is broke, the lute is dispossessed.  
The hand is cold, the body in the ground.  
The lowering lute lamenteth now therefore.  
philip's her friend that can her touch no more.   

That all thing sometime find ease of their pain, save only the lover.  
I See there is no sort,  
Of things that live in grief:  
Which at sometime may not resort,  
Whereas they have relief.  
The stricken deer by kind,  
Of death that stands in awe:  
For his recure an herb can find,  
The arrow to withdraw.  
The chased deer hath soil,  
To cool him in his heat:  
The Ass after his weary toil,  
In stable is up set.  
The Coney hath his cave,  
The little bird his nest:  
From heat and cold themselves to save,  
At all times as they list.  
The Owl with feeble sight.  
Lies lurking in the leaves:  
The Sparrow in the frosty night,  
May shroud her in the caves.  
But woe to me alas,  
In sun nor yet in shade,  
I cannot find a resting place,  
My burden to unlade.  
But day by day still bears,  
The burden on my back:  
With weeping eyen and watery tears.  
To hold my hope aback.  
All things I see have place,  
Wherein they bow or bend:  
Save this alas my woeful case,  
Which no where findeth end.   

Thassault of Cupid upon the fort where the lovers heart lay wounded and how he was taken.  
WHen Cupid scaled first the fort,  
wherein my heart lay wounded sore:  
The battery was of such a sort  
That I must yield or die therefore.  
There saw I love upon the wall,  
How he his banner did display:  
Alarm alarm he 'gan to call,  
And bad his soldiers keep array,  
The arms the which that Cupid bore,  
were pierced hearts with tears besprent:  
In silver and sable to declare  
The steadfast love he always meant.  
There might you see his band all dressed,  
In colours like to white and black:  
With powder and with pellets priest,  
To bring the sort to spoil and sack.  
Good will the master of the shot,  
Stood in the rampire brave and proud:  
For expense of powder he spared not,  
Assault assault to cry aloud.  
There might you hear the cannons roar,  
Each piece discharged a lovers look:  
Which had the power to rend, and tore  
In any place whereas they took.  
And even with the trumpets sown,  
The scaling ladders were up set:  
And beauty walked up and down  
with bow in hand and arrows whet,  
Than first desire began to scale,  
And shrouded him under his targe,  
As on the worthiest of them all,  
And aptest for to give the charge.  
Then pushed soldiers with their pikes  
And holbarders with handy strokes:  
The hargabushe in flesh it lights,  
And dims the air with misty smokes.  
And as it is the soldiers use,  
When shot and powder gins to want:  
I hanged up my flag of truce  
And pleaded for my lives grant.  
When fancy thus had made her breach,  
And beauty entered with her band:  
with bag and baggage se●y wretch,  
I yielded into beauty's hand.  
Then beauty bad to blow retreat,  
And every soldier to retire.  
And mercy wild with speed to fet:  
Me captive bound as prisoner.  
Madam (quoth I) sith that this day,  
Hath served you at all assays:  
I yield to you without delay,  
Here of the fortress all the keys.  
And sith that I have been the mark,  
At whom you shot at with your eye:  
Needs must you with your handy works  
Or salve my sore or let me die,   

The aged lover renounceth love.  
I Loath that I did love,  
In youth that I thought sweet:  
As time requires for my behoove,  
Me thinks they are not mete.  
My lusts they do me leave,  
My fancies a●l be fled:  
And tract of time gins to weave,  
Grace hears upon my head.  
For age with ●teling steps,  
Hath clawed me with his crouch:  
And lusty life away she leaps,  
As there had been none such.  
My muse doth not delight  
Me as she did before:  
My hand and pen are not in plight,  
As they have been of yore.  
For reason me denies,  
This youthly idle tim●:  
And day by day to me she cries,  
Leave of these toys in time.  
The wrinkles in my brow,  
The furrows in my face:  
Say limping age will hedge him now,  
Where youth must give him place.  
The harbinger of death,  
To me I see him ride:  
The cough, the cold, the gasping breath,  
Doth bid me to provide.  
A pikeax and a spade,  
And eke a shrouding sheet,  
A house of clay for to be made,  
For such a gest most meet.  
Me thinks I hear the clerk,  
That knoles the careful knell:  
And bids me leave my woeful work,  
Ere nature me compel.  
My keepers knit the knot,  
That youth did laugh to scorn:  
Of me that clean shallbe forgot,  
As I had not been borne.  
Thus must I youth give up,  
Whose badge I long did wear:  
To them I yield the wanton cup  
That better may it bear.  
Lo here the bared skull,  
By whose bald sign I know:  
That stooping age away shall pull,  
which youthful years did sow.  
For beauty with her ●and  
These crooked cares hath wrought:  
And shipped me into the land,  
From whence I first was brought.  
And ye that bide behind,  
Have ye none other trust:  
As ye of clay were cast by kind,  
So shall ye waste to dust.   

Of the lady went worths death.  
TO live to die and die to live again,  
With good renown of fame well led before  
Here lieth she that learned had the lore,  
Whom if the perfect virtues wolden deign.  
To be set forth with foil of worldly grace,  
was noble borne and match in noble race,  
Lord Wentworthes wife, nor wanted to attain,  
In nature's gifts her praise among the rest,  
But that that gave her praise above the best  
Not fame, her wedlock's chasteness durst distain,  
Wherein with child delivering of her womb,  
Thuntimely birth hath brought them both in tomb  
So left she life by death to live again.   

The lover accusing his love for her unfaithfulness, purposeth to live in liberty.  
THe smoky sighs the bitter tears,  
That I in vain have wasted:  
The broken sleeps, the woe and fears,  
That long in me have lasted:  
The love and all I own to thee,  
Here I renounce and make me free.  
Which freedom I have by thy guilt,  
And not by my deserving,  
Since so unconstantly thou wilt  
Not love, but still be swearing.  
To leave me of which was thine own,  
without cause why as shallbe known.  
The fruits were fair the which did grow,  
Within thy garden planted,  
The leaves were green of every bough,  
And moisture nothing wanted,  
Yet or the blossoms 'gan fall,  
The caterpillar wasted all.  
Thy body was the garden place,  
And sugared words it beareth,  
The blossoms all thy faith it was,  
which as the canker weareth.  
The caterpillar is the same,  
That hath won thee and lost thy name.  
I mean thy lover loved now,  
By thy pretended folly,  
which will prove like, thou shalt find how,  
Unto a tree of holly:  
That bark and berry bears always,  
The one, birds feeds, the other slays.  
And right well mightest thou have thy wish  
Of thy love new acquainted:  
For thou art like unto the dish  
That Adrianus painted:  
Wherein were grapes portrayed so fair  
That fowls for food did there repaire●  
But I am like the beaten fowl  
That from the net escaped,  
And thou art like the ravening owl  
That all the night hath waked.  
For none intent but to betray  
The sleeping fowl before the day.  
Thus hath thy love been unto me  
As pleasant and commodious,  
As was the fire made on the sea  
By Naulus hate so odious.  
Therewith to train the greekish host  
From Troy's return where they were lost.   

The lover for want of his desire, showeth his death at hand.  
AS Cypress tree that rent is by the root,  
As branch or slip bereft from whence it grows  
As well sown seed for drought that can not sprout  
As gaping ground that raineles can not close  
As momes that want the earth to do them boat  
As fish on land to whom no water flows,  
As Thameleon that lacks the air so sote,  
As flowers do fade when Phoebus' rarest shows.  
As Salamandra repulsed from the fire:  
So wanting my wish I die for my desire   

A happy end exceedeth all pleasures and riches of the world.  
THe shining season here to some,  
The glory in the worlds sight,  
Renowned fame through fortune won  
The glittering gold the eyes delight,  
The sensual life that seems so sweet,  
The heart with joyful days replete,  
The thing whereto each wight is thrall,  
The happy end exceedeth all.   

Against an unsteadfast woman.  
O Temerous tauntres that delights in toys  
Tumbling cockboat tottering to and fro,  
jangling iestres' depravers of sweet joys,  
Ground of the graff whence all my grief doth grow,  
Sullen serpent environed with despite,  
That ill for good at all times dost requite.   

A praise of Petrarke and of Laura his lady.  
O Petrarke head and prince of poets all,  
Whose lively gift of flowing eloquence,  
Well may we seek, but find not how or whence  
So rare a gift with thee did rise and fall,  
Peace to thy bones, and glory immortal  
Be to thy name, and to her excellence.  
whose beauty lighted in thy time and sense:  
So to be set forth as none other shall.  
Why hath not our pens, rhymes so perfect wrought  
Ne why our time forth bringeth beauty such  
To try our wits as gold is by the touch,  
If to the style the matter aided aught.  
But there was never Laure more than one,  
And her had Petrarke for his Paragon.   

That petrarch cannot be passed but notwithstanding that Lawra is far surpassed  
WIth Petrarke to compare there may no wight,  
Nor yet attain unto so high a style,  
But yet I wot full well where is a file.  
To frame a learned man to praise aright:  
Of stature mean of seemly form and shap,  
Each line of just proporsion to her height:  
Her colour fresh and mingled with such sleight:  
As though the rose sat in the lilies lap.  
In wit and tongue to show what may be said,  
To every deed she joins a perfect grace,  
If L●wra lived she would her clean deface.  
For I dare say and lay my life to wed  
That Momus could not if he down descended,  
Once justly say, Lo this may be amended.   

Against a cruel woman.  
CRuel unkind whom mercy cannot move,  
Herbour of unhap where rigours rage doth reign,  
Ground of my grief where pity cannot prove:  
Trikle to trust of all untruth the train,  
Thou rigorous rock that ruth cannot remove.  
Dangerous delft deep dungeon of disdain:  
Sack of self will the chest of craft and change,  
What causeth the thus causels for to change?  
Ah piteles plant whom plaint cannot provoke.  
Den of deceit that right doth still refuse,  
Causeless unkind that carriest under cloak  
Cruelty and craft me only to abuse,  
Stately and stubborn withstanding Cupid's stroke,  
Thou marvelous maze that makest men to muse,  
Solleyn by self will, most stony stiff and strange,  
what causeth thee thus causeless for to change?  
Slipper and secret where surety cannot sow  
Net of newelty, nest of newfangleness,  
Spring of all spite, from whence whole floods do flow,  
Thou cave and cage of care and craftiness  
Wavering willow that every blast doth blow  
graff without growth and cause of carefulness,  
Heap of mishap of all my grief the grange,  
What causeth thee thus causeless for to change.  
Hast thou forgot that I was thine infeft,  
By force of love hadst thou not heart at all,  
Sawest thou not other for thy love were left  
Knowest thou unkind, that nothing mought befall  
From out of my heart that could have the bereft.  
What meanest thou then at riot thus to range,  
And leavest thine own that never thought to change.   

The lover showeth what he would have, if it were granted him to have what he would wish.  
IF it were so that God would grant me my request,  
And that I might of earthly things have that I liked best,  
I would not wish to climb to princely high estate,  
Which slipper is and slides so oft, and hath so fickle fate.  
Nor yet to conquer realms with cruel sword in hand,  
And so to shed the guiltless blond of such as would withstand.  
Nor I would not desire in worldly rule to reign.  
Whose fruit is all unquietness, and breaking of the brain.  
Nor richesse in excess of virtue so abhorred,  
I would not crave which breedeth care and causeth all discord.  
But my request should be more worth a thousand fold:  
That I might have and her enjoy that hath my heart in hold.  
Oh God what lusty life should we live then for ever,  
In pleasant joy and perfect bliss, to length our lives together.  
With words of friendly cheer, and looks of lively love,  
To utter all our hot desires, which never should remove.  
But gross and greedy wits which grope but on the ground.  
To gather muck of worldly goods which oft do them confound,  
Can not attain to know the mysteries divine  
Of perfit love whereto high wits of knowledge do incline.  
A niggard of his gold such joy can never have  
which gets with toil and keeps with care and is his money slave,  
As they enjoy always that taste lone in his kind,  
For they do hold continually a heaven in their mind.  
No● worldly goods could bring my heart so great an ease●  
As for to find or do the thing that might my lady please.  
For by her only love my heart should have all joy,  
And with the same put care away, and all that could annoy.  
As if that any thing should chance to make me sad,  
The touching of her coral lips would straightewaies make m● glad,  
And when that in my heart I feel that did me grieve  
With one embracing of her arms she might me soon relieve:  
And as the Angels all which sit in heaven high  
With presence and the sight of god have their felicity,  
So likewise I in earth, should have all earthly bliss,  
With presence of that Paragon, my god in earth that is.   

The lady forsaken of her lover, prayeth his return, or the end of her own life.  
TO love, alas, who would not fear  
That seeth my woeful state,  
For he to whom my heart I bear  
Doth me extremely hate,  
And why therefore I cannot tell,  
He will no longer with me dwell.  
Did you not sew and long me seru●  
Ere I you granted grace?  
And will you this now from me serve  
That never did trespass?  
Alas poor woman then alas,  
A weary life here must I pass.  
And shall my faith have such refuse  
In deed and shall it so,  
Is there no choice for me to choose  
But must I leave you so?  
Alas poor woman then alas,  
A weary life hence must I pass.  
And is there now no remedy  
But th●t you will forget her?  
There was a time when that pardie  
You would have heard her better.  
But now that time is gone and passed,  
And all your love is but a blast.  
And can you thus break your behest  
In deed and can you so?  
Did you not swear you loved me best,  
And can you now say no?  
Remember me poor wight in pain,  
And for my sake turn once again.  
Alas poor Dido now I feel  
Thy present painful state,  
When false Aeneas did him steel  
From thee at Carthage gate.  
And left thee sleeping in thy bed,  
Regarding not what he had said,  
Was never woman thus betrayed,  
Nor man so false forsworn,  
His faith and troth so strongly tied,  
Untruth hath all totorne:  
And I have leave for my good will  
To wail and weep alone my fill.  
But since it will not better be,  
My tears shall never blind:  
To moist the earth in such degree,  
That I may drown therein:  
That by my death all men may say.  
Lo women are as true as they.  
By me all women may beware,  
That s●e my woeful smart,  
To seek true love let them not spare,  
Before they set their heart.  
Or else they may become as I,  
Which for my truth am like to die.   

The lover yelden into his lady's hands, prayeth mercy.  
IN freedom was my fantasy  
Abhorring bondage of the mind,  
But now I yield my liberty,  
And willingly myself I bind.  
Truly to serve with all my heart,  
whiles life doth last not to revart.  
Her beauty bound me first of all  
And forced my will for to consent:  
And I agree to be her thrall,  
For as she list I am content.  
My will is hers in that ● may,  
And where she bids I will obey.  
It lieth in her my woe or wealth,  
She may do that she liketh best,  
If that she list I have my health,  
If she list not in woe I rest.  
Sins I am fast within her bands.  
My woe and wealth lieth in her hands.  
She can no less than pity me,  
Sith that my faith to her is known,  
It were to much extremity,  
With cruelty to use her own.  
Alas a sinful enterprise,  
To slay that yields at her device.  
But I think not her heart so hard,  
Nor that she hath such cruel lust:  
I doubt nothing of her reward,  
For my desert but well I trust,  
As she hath beauty to allure,  
So hath she a heart that will recure.   

That nature which worketh all things for our behoof, hath made women also for our comfort and delight.  
AMong dame natures works such perfit law is wrought,  
That things be ruled by course of kind in order as the● ought.  
And serveth in their state, in such just frame and sort,  
That slender wits may judge the same, and make thereof report.  
Behold what secret force the wind doth easily show,  
Which guides the ships amid the seas if he his bellows blow.  
The waters waxed wild where blustering blasts do rise,  
Yet seldom do they pass their bonds for nature that devise.  
The fire which boils the lead, and trieth out the gold:  
Hath in his power both help and hurt, if he his force unfold.  
The frost which kills the fruit, doth knit the bruised bones:  
And is a medicine of kind, prepared for the nonce.  
The earth in whose entrails the food of man doth live,  
At every spring and fall of leaf, what pleasure doth she give?  
The air which life desires, and is to health so sweet,  
Of nature yields such lively smells, that comforts every spirit.  
The Sun through nature's might, doth draw away the dew,  
And spreads the flowers where he is want his princely face to show.  
The Moon which may be called, the lantern of the night,  
Is half a guide to traveling men, such virtue hath her light.  
The sters not vertuelesse are beauty to the eyes,  
A loads man to the Mariner; a sign of calmed skies.  
The flowers and fruitful trees to man do tribute pay,  
And when they have their duty done by course they fade away.  
Each beast both fish and foul, doth offer life and all,  
To nourish man and do him ease, yea serve him at his call.  
The serpent's venomous, whose ugly shapes we hate,  
Are sovereign salves for sundry sores, and needful in their state.  
Sith nature shows her power, in each thing thus at large,  
Why should not man submit himself to be in nature's charge?  
Who thinks to flee her force, at length becomes her thrall,  
The wisest cannot slip her snare, for nature governs all.  
Lo, nature gave us shape, lo nature feeds our lives:  
Then they are worse than mad I think, against her force that striue●  
Though some do use to say, which can do nought but feign,  
Women were made for this intent, to put us men to pain.  
Yet sure I think they are a pleasure to the mind,  
A joy which man can never want, as nature hath assigned.   

when adversity is once fallen, it is to late to beware●  
TO my mishap alas I find  
That happy hap is dangerous:  
And fortune worketh but her kind,  
To make the joyful dolorous.  
But all to late it comes to mind,  
To wail the want that makes me blind.  
Amid my mirth and pleasantness,  
Such chance is chanced suddenly,  
That in despair without redress,  
I find my chiefest remedy.  
No new kind of unhappiness,  
Should thus have left me comfortless.  
Who would have thought that my request,  
Should bring me forth such bitter fruit:  
But now is happed that I feared lest:  
And all this harm comes by my suit,  
For when I thought me happiest  
Even than happed all my chief unrest.  
In better case was never none  
And yet unwares thus am I trapped,  
My chief desire doth cause me moon,  
And to my harm my wealth is happed,  
There is no man but I alone,  
T●●t hath such cause to sigh and moan.  
Thus am I taught for to beware  
And trust no more such pleasant chance,  
My happy hap bred me this care,  
And brought my mirth to great mischanc●●  
There is no man whom hap will spare,  
But when she list his wealth i● bare.   

Of a lover that made his only god of his love.  
ALl you that friendship do profess,  
And of a friend present the place:  
give ear to me that did possess,  
As friendly fruits as ye embrace.  
And to declare the circumstance,  
There were themselves that did advance:  
To teach me truly how to take,  
A faithful friend for virtues sake.  
But I as one of little skill,  
To know what good might grow thereby,  
Unto my wealth I had no will,  
Nor to my need I had none e●e,  
But as the child doth learn to go,  
So I in time did learn to know,  
Of all good fruits the world brought forth.  
A faithful friend is thing most worth.  
Then with all care I sought to find,  
One worthy to receive such trust:  
One only that was rich in mind,  
One secret, sober, wi●●, and iust●  
Whom riches could not ●aise at all●  
Nor poverty procure t● fall:  
And to be short in few words plain,  
One such a friend I did attain.  
And when I did enjoy this wealth,  
Who lived Lord in such a case,  
For to my friends it was great health,  
And to my foes a fowl deface,  
And to myself a thing ●o rich  
As seek the world and find none such.  
Thus by this frende● I set such store.  
As by myself I fet no more.  
This friend so much was my delight,  
When care had clean o'ercome my hart●  
One thought of her rid care as quite,  
As never care had caused my smart.  
Thus joyed I in my friend so dear,  
Was never ●●●de sat man so near,  
I card for her so much alone,  
That other God I card for none.  
But as it doth to them befall,  
That to themselves respect have none:  
So my sweet graff is grown to gall,  
Where I sowed mirth I reaped moon.  
This idol that I honoured so,  
Is now transformed to my fo●  
That me most pleased, me most pains,  
And in despair my heart remains.  
And for just scourge of such desert,  
Three plagues I may myself assure,  
First of my friend to lose my part,  
And next my life may not endure,  
And last of all the more to blame,  
My soul shall suffer for the same.  
Wherefore ye friends I warn you all,  
Sat fast for fear of ●uch a fall.   

Upon the death of sir Antony Denny.  
DEath and the king, did as it were contend,  
Which of them two bare Denny greatest love.  
The king to show his love 'gan far extend,  
Did him advance his betters farr● above.  
near place, much wealth, great honour eke him gave,  
To make it known what power great princes have.  
But when death came with his triumphant gift,  
From worldly cark he quite his wearied ghost,  
Free from the corpse, and strait to heaven it li●t,  
Now dame that can who did for Denny most.  
The king gave wealth but fading and unsure,  
Death brought him bliss that ever shall endure.   

A comparison of the lovers pains.  
Like as the brake within the rider's hand,  
Doth strain the horse nigh wood with grief of p●in●,  
Not used b●fore to co●e in such a band,  
Striveth for grief, although god wots in vain  
To be as erst he was at liberty.  
But force of force doth strain the contrary.  
Even so since band doth cause my deadly grief,  
That made me so my woeful chance lament,  
Like thing hath brought me into pain & mischief,  
Save willingly to it I did assent.  
To bind the thing in freedom which was free,  
That now full sore alas repenteth me.   

Of a Rosemary branch sent.  
SUch green to me as you have sent,  
Such green to you I send again:  
● flowering heart that will not faint,  
For dread of hope or loss of gain:  
A steadfast thought all wholly bend,  
So that he may your grace obtain:  
As you by proof have always seen,  
To live your own and always green.   

To his love of his constant ha●t.  
AS I have been so will I ever be,  
Unto my d●ath and longer if I myght●  
Have I of love the friendly looking eye?  
Have, I of fortune favour or despite?  
I am of rock by proof as you may see:  
Not ●●ade of wax nor of no metal light,  
As lief to die, by change as to deceive,  
Or break the promise ●ade. And so I leau●.   

Of the token which his love sent him.  
THe golden apple that the Trojan boy,  
Gave to Venus' the fairest of the three,  
Which was the cause of all the wrack of Troy,  
Was not received with a greater joy,  
Then was the same (my love) thou sent to me,  
It healed my sore it made my sorrows free,  
It gave me hope it banished mine annoy:  
Thy happy hand full oft of me was blessed,  
That can give such a salve when that thou list.   

Manhood availeth not without good Fortune.  
THe Cowerd oft whom dainty viands fed,  
That boasted much his ladies ears to please,  
By help of them whom under him he led  
Hath reaped the palm the valiance could not cease.  
The unexpert that shores unknown near sought,  
whom Neptune yet appalled not with fear:  
In wandering ship on trustless seas hath taught  
The skill to feel that time to long doth leare.  
The s●orting knight that sco●neth Cupid's kind,  
With feigned cheer the pained cause to breed:  
In game unhides the leden sparks of mind,  
And gains the goal, where glowing flames should speed,  
Thus I see proof that troth & manly heart  
May not avail, if fortune chance to start.   

That constancy of all virtues is most worthy  
THough in the wax a perfect picture made,  
Doth show as fair as in the marble stone,  
Yet do we see it is esteemed of none.  
Because that fire or force the form doth fade.  
Whereas the marble holden is full dear,  
Since that endures the date of longer days.  
Of Diamonds it is the greatest praise●  
So long to last and always one t'appear.  
Then if we do esteem that thing for best,  
Which in perfection lengest time doth last:  
And that most vain that turns with every blast  
What ●ewel then with t●ng can be expressed?  
Like to that heart where love hath framed such faith,  
That can not fade but by the force of death.   

The uncertain state of of a lover.  
Like as the rage of rain.  
Fills rivers with excess,  
And as the drought again,  
Doth draw t●em less and less.  
So I both fall and climb,  
With no and yea sometime.  
As they swell high and high,  
So doth increase my state,  
As they fall dry and dry  
So doth my wealth abate,  
As yea is mixed with no.  
So mirth is mixed with wo.  
As nothing can endure,  
That lives and lacks relief,  
So nothing can stand sure,  
Where change doth raign● as chief,  
Wherefore I must intend,  
To bow when others bend.  
And when they laugh to smile,  
And when they weep to waile●  
And when they craft, beguile,  
And when they fight, assail,  
And think there is no change,  
Can make them seem to stranger  
Oh most unhappy sla●e,  
What man may lead this course,  
To lack he would feignest have,  
Or else to do much worse.  
These be rewards for such,  
●s live and love to much.   

The lover in liberty smileth at them in thraldom, that sometime scorned his bondage.  
AT liberty I sit and see,  
Them that have erst laughed me to scorn:  
Whypt with the whip that scourged me  
And now they ban that they were borne.  
I se● them sit full soberlye●  
And think their earnest looks to hide:  
Now in themselves they can not spy,  
That they or this in me have spied.  
I s●e them sitting all alone,  
Marking the steps each word and look:  
And now they tread where I have gone  
The painful path that I forsook.  
Now I see well I saw no whit.  
When they saw well that now are blind  
But happy hap hath made me quit,  
And just judgement hath them assigned.  
I see them wander all alone,  
And tread full fast in dreadful doubt:  
The self same path that I have gone,  
Blessed be hap that brought me out.  
At liberty all this I see,  
And say no word but erst among;  
Smiling at them that laughed at me.  
Lo such is hap, mark well my song.   

A comparison of his love with the faithful and painful love of Troilus to Creside.  
I Read how Troilus served in Troy,  
A lady long and many a day,  
And how he bode so great annoy,  
For her as all the stories say.  
That half the pain had never man,  
Which had this woeful Trojan then.  
His youth, his sport, his pleasant chere●  
His courtly state and company,  
In him so strangely altered were,  
With such a face of contrary.  
That every joy became a woe,  
This poison new had turned him so.  
And what men thought might most him ease,  
And most that for his comfort stood,  
The fame did most his mind displease,  
And set him most in furious mode.  
For all his pleasure ever lay,  
To think on her that was away.  
His chamber was his common walk,  
Wherein he kept him secretly,  
He made his bed the place of talk,  
To hear his great extremity.  
In nothing else had he delight.  
But even to be a martyr right.  
And now to call her by her name  
And strait therewith to sigh and throb:  
And when his fancies might not frame,  
Then into tears and so to sob,  
All in extremes and thus he lies,  
Making two fountains of his eyes.  
As agues have sharp shifts of fits  
Of cold and heat successively:  
So had his head like change of wits:  
His patience wrought so diversly.  
Now up, now down, now here, now there,  
Like one that was he witted not where.  
And thus though he were Pr●ams son  
And comen of the kings high blood,  
This care he had ere he her won.  
Till she that was his mantresse good,  
And loath to see her servant so,  
Became Physician to his wo●  
And took him to her hands and grace,  
And said she would her mind apply,  
To help him in his woeful case,  
If she might be his remedy.  
And thus they say to ease his smart,  
She made him owner of her heart.  
And truth it is except they lie,  
From that day forth her study went,  
To show to love him faithfully,  
And his whole mind full to content.  
So happy a man at last was he,  
And eke so worthy a woman she.  
Lo lady then judge you by this,  
Mine case and how my case doth fall,  
For sure between my life and his,  
No difference there is at all.  
His care was great● so was his pain,  
And mine is not the least of twain.  
For what he felt in service true  
For her whom that he loved so,  
The same ● feel as large for you,  
To whom I do my service owe.  
There was that time in him no pain,  
But now the same in me doth reign.  
Which if you can compare and way,  
And how I stand in every plight,  
Then this for you I dare well say,  
Your heart must needs remorse of right  
To grant me grace and so to do,  
As Creside then did Troilus to.  
For well I wots you are as good,  
And even as fair as ever was she,  
And comen of as worthy blood,  
And have in you as large pity  
To tender me your own true man,  
As she did him her servant than.  
Which gift I pray God for my sake,  
Full soon and shortly you me send,  
So shall you make my sorrows slake,  
So shall you bring my woe to end.  
And set me in as happy case,  
As Troilus with his lady was.   

To lead a virtuous and honest life.  
FLee from the press and dwell with soothfastness,  
Suffice to thee thy good though it be small,  
For hoard hath hate, and climbing ticklenes,  
Praise hath envy, and weal is blind in all,  
Favour no more, than thee behove shall.  
Reed well thyself that others well canst read,  
And troth shall thee deliver, it is no dread.  
Pain thee not each crooked to redress,  
In hope of her that turneth as a ball,  
Great rest standeth in little business,  
Beware also to spurn against a nall,  
Strive not as doth a crock against a wall,  
deem first thyself, that demest others deed,  
And truth shall thee deliver, it is no dread.  
That thee is sent, receine in buxomness,  
The wrestling of this world asketh a fall:  
Here is no home, here is but wilderness.  
Forth pilgrim forth, forth beast out of thy stall,  
Look up on high, give thanks to God of all:  
wean well thy lust, and honest life ay lead,  
So troth shall thee deliver, it is no dread.   

The wounded lover determineth to make suit to his lady for his recure.  
Sin's Mars first moved war or stirred men to strife,  
Was never seen so fierce a fight, I scarce could scape with life.  
Resist so long I did, till death approached so nigh,  
To save myself, I thought it best, with speed away to fly.  
In danger still I fled, by flight I thought to scape  
From my dear foe, it veiled not, alas it was to late.  
For Venus from her camp brought Cupid with his bronde,  
Who said now yield, or else desire shall chase thee in every land.  
Yet would I not strait yield, till fancy fiercely struck,  
Who from my will did cut the rains & charged me with this yoke.  
Then all the days and nights mine ear might hear the sound,  
What careful sighs my heart would steal, to feel itself so bound.  
For though within my breast, thy care I work (he said)  
Why for good will didst thou behold her piercing eye displayed,  
Alas the fish is caught, through bait that hides the hook,  
Even so her eye me trained hath, and tangled with her look.  
But or that it be long, my heart thou shalt be feign,  
To stay my life pray her forththrow sweet looks when I complain.  
When that she shall deny, to do me that good turn,  
Then shall she see to ashes grey, by flames my body burn.  
Desert of blame to her no wight may yet impute,  
For fear of nay I never sought, the way to frame my suit.  
Yet hap that what hap shall, delay I may to long,  
Assay I shall for I hear say, the still man oft hath wrong.   

The lover showing of the continual pains that abide within his breast, determineth to die because he cannot have redress.  
THe doleful bell that still doth ring,  
The woeful knell of all my joys:  
The wretched heart doth pierce and wring,  
And fills mine ear with deadly 'noys.  
The hungry viper in my breast,  
That on my heart doth lie and gnaw:  
Doth daily breed my new unrest,  
And deeper sighs doth cause me draw.  
And though I force both hand and eye,  
On pleasant matter to attend:  
My sorrows to deceive thereby,  
And wretched life for to amend.  
Yet goeth the mill within my heart,  
Which grindeth nought but pain and woe:  
And turneth all my joy to smart,  
The evil corn it yieldeth so.  
Though Venus' smile with yielding eyes,  
And sweet music doth play and sing:  
Yet doth my spirits feel none of these,  
The clerk doth at mine ear so ring.  
As smallest sparks uncared for,  
To greatest flames do soonest grow,  
Even so did this mine inward sore,  
Begin in game and end in wo.  
And now by use so swift it goeth,  
That nothing can mine ears so fill:  
But that the clack it overgoeth,  
And plucketh me back into the mill.  
But since the mill will needs about,  
The pin whereon the wheel doth go:  
I will assay to strike it out,  
And so the mill to overthrow.   

The power of love over gods themselves.  
FOr love Apollo (his Godhead set aside)  
Was servant to the king of Thessaley,  
Whose daughter was so pleasant in his eye,  
That both his harp and sawtrey he defied:  
And bagpipe solace of the rural bride,  
Did puff and blow● and on the holtes hy,  
His cattle kept with that rude melody,  
And oft eke him that doth the heau●ns guide,  
Hath love transsormed to shapes for him to base  
Transmuted thus sometime a swan is he,  
Leda taccoy, and eft Europe to please,  
A mild white bull, unwrinckled front and face,  
suffereth her play till on his back leapeth she,  
Whom in great care he ferieth through the seas.   

The promise of a constant lover.  
AS Laurel leaves that cease not to be green,  
From parching sun, nor yet from winter's threat  
As hardened oak that feareth no sword so keen,  
As flint for tool in twain that will not frete.  
As fast as rock, or pillar surely set:  
So fast am I to you, and ay have been,  
Assuredly whom I cannot forget,  
For joy, for pain, for torment nor for tene.  
For loss, for gain, for frowning, nor for threat,  
But ever one, yea both in calm and blast,  
Your faithful friend, and will be to my last.   

Against him that had slandered a gentle woman with himself.  
FAlse may be, and by the powers above,  
Never have he good speed or luck in love,  
That so can lie or spot the worthy fame,  
Of her for whom thou R. art to blame.  
For chaste Diane that hunteth still the chase,  
And all her maids that sue her in the race.  
With fair bows bend and arrows by their side,  
Can say that thou in this haste falsely lied.  
For never hung the bow upon the wall,  
Of Diana's temple, no nor never shall.  
Of broken chaste the sacred vow to spot,  
Of her whom thou dost charge so large I wots,  
But if ought be whereof her blame may rise,  
It is in that she did not well advise  
To mark thee right, as now she doth thee know  
False of thy deed, false of thy talk also.  
Lurker of kind like serpent laid to bite,  
As poison hid under the sugar white.  
What danger such? So was the house defiled,  
Of Collative: so was the wife beguiled.  
So smarted she, and by a traitorous force,  
The Cartage queen so she fordid her corpse.  
So strangled was the Rodopeian maid,  
Fie traitor fie, to thy shame be it said,  
Thou dunghill Crow that crokest against the rain,  
Home to thy hole, brag not with Phebe again.  
Carrion for thee, and loathsome be thy voice,  
Thy song is fowl, ● w●ary of thy noise.  
Thy black feathers, which are thy wearing weed,  
Wet them with tears, and sorrow for thy deed.  
And in dark caves, where irksome worms do creep,  
Lurk thou all day, and fly when thou shouldest sleep.  
And never light where living thing hath life,  
But eat and drink where stench and filth is ri●e.  
For she that is a fowl of feathers bright,  
Admit she took some pleasure in thy light.  
As fowl of state sometimes delight to take,  
Fowl of mean sort their flight with them to make.  
For play of wing● or solace of their kind:  
But not in sort as thou dost break thy mind.  
Not for to tread with such foul fowl as thou,  
No no I swear, and dare it here avow.  
Thou never settest thy foot within her nest,  
Boast not so broad then to thine own unrest.  
But blush for shame, for in thy face it stands,  
And thou canst not unspot it with thy hands.  
For all the heavens against thee record bear,  
And all in earth against thee eke will swear,  
That thou in this art even none other man,  
But as the judges were to Susan then.  
Forgers of that whereto their lust them pricked,  
Bashe, blazer then the truth hath thee convict.  
And she a woman of her worthy fame,  
Unspotted stands, & thou hast caught the shame.  
And there I pray to God that it may rest,  
False as thou art, as false as is the best,  
That so canst wrong the noble kind of man,  
In whom all troth first flourished and began.  
And so hath stand, till now thy wretched part,  
Hath spotted us, of whose kind one thou art.  
That all the shame that ever rose or may,  
Of shameful deed on thee may light I say●  
And on thy kind, and thus I wish thee rather,  
That all thy seed may like be to their father.  
Untrue as thou, and forgers as thou art,  
So as all we be blameless of thy par●.  
And of thy deed. And thus I do thee leave,  
Still to be false, and falsely to deceive.   

A praise of mistress R.  
I Heard when feign with thundering voice did summon to appear,  
The chief of nature's children all that kind hath placed here.  
To view what brute by virtue got their lives could justly crane,  
And bade them show what praise by truth they worthy were to have.  
Wherewith I saw how Venus came and put herself in place,  
And gave her ladies leave at large to stand and plead their case.  
Each one was called by name a row, in that assemble there,  
That hence are gone or here remains, in court or other where.  
A solemn s●●ence was proclaimed, the judges sa●e and herd,  
What truth could tell, or craft could fain, & who should be preferred.  
Then beauty stepped before the bar, whose breast and neck was bare  
With hear trust up, and on her head a call of gold she ware.  
Thus Cupid's thralls began to flock whose hungry eyes did say  
That she had stained all the dames, that present were that day.  
For ere she spoke, which whispering words, the press was filled throughout  
And fancy forced common voice, thereat to give a shout.  
Which cried to fame take forth thy trump, & sound her praise on hy  
That glads the heart of every wight that her beholds with eye.  
What stir and rule (quo● order than) do these rude people make,  
We hold her best that shall deserve a praise for virtues sake.  
This sentence was no sooner said, but beauty therewith blushed,  
The noise did cease, the hall was still and every thing was whusht.  
Then fineness thought by training talk to win that beauty lost,  
And whet her tongue w●th jolly words, and spared for no cost:  
Yet wantonness could not abide, but broke her tale in haste,  
And peevish pride ●or Peacocks plumes would needs behiest placed.  
And therewithal came curiousness and carped out of frame.  
The audience laughed to hear the strife as they beheld the same.  
Yet reason soon apesde the brute her reverence made and done,  
She purchased favour ●or to speak, and thus her tale began.  
Sins bounty shall the garland wear, and crowned be by fame,  
O happy judges call for her, for she deserves the same.  
Where temperance governs beauties flowers & glory is not sought,  
And shamefast meekness mastreth pride, & virtue dwells in thought.  
Bid her come forth and show her face, or else assent each one,  
That true report shall grave her name in gold or marble stone.  
For all the world to read at will, what worthiness doth rest,  
In perfect pure unspotted life, which she hath here possessed.  
Then skill rose up and sought the press to find if that he might,  
A person of such honest name, that men should praise of right.  
This one I saw full sadly sit, and shrink herself aside,  
Whose sober looks did show what gifts her wifely grace did hide.  
Lo here (quoth skill, good people all● is Lucrece left alive,  
And she shall most excepted be, that least for praise did strive.  
No longer fame could hold her peace, but blew a blast so high,  
That made an eckow in the air and swooning through the s●ye.  
The voice was loud & thus it said come. R. wit● happy days,  
Thy honest life hath won the fame & crowned thee with praise.  
And when I heard my masters name I thrust amids the throng,  
And clapped my hands and wished of god that she might prosper long.   

Of one unjustly defamed.  
I●Ne can close in short and cunning verse,  
Thy worthy praise of bounty by desert:  
The hateful spite and slander to rehearse.  
Of them that see but know not what thou art,  
For kind by craft hath wrought thee so to eye,  
That no wight may thy wit and virtue spy.  
But he have other feel then outward sight,  
The lack whereof doth hate and spite to try  
Thus kind thy craft is let of virtues light:  
See how the outward show the wits may dull:  
Not of the wise but as the most intend,  
Minerva yet might never pierce their skull,  
That Circe's cup and Cupid's brand hath blend.  
Whose fond affects now stirred have their brain,  
So doth thy hap thy hue with colour stain.  
Beauty thy so thy shape doubleth thy sore,  
To hide thy wit and show thy virtue vain,  
Fell were thy fate, if wisdom were not more●  
I mean by thee even G. by name,  
Whom stormy winds of envy and disdain,  
Do toss with boisteous blasts of wicked fame.  
Where steadfastness as chief in thee doth reign.  
Pa●ience thy settled mind doth guide and stere●  
Silence and shame with many resteth there.  
Till time thy mother list them forth to call,  
Happy is he that may enjoy them all.   

Of the death of the late countisse of Penbroke.  
YEt once again my muse I pardon pray,  
Thine intermitted song if I repeat:  
Not in such wise as when love was my pay,  
My jolly woe with joyful verse to treat.  
But now (unthank to our desert be given,  
Which merit not a heavens gift to keep)  
Thou must with me bewail that fate hath riven,  
From earth a jewel laid in earth to sleep,  
A jewel yea a gem of womanhood,  
Whose perfect virtues linked as in chain:  
So did adorn that humble wivelyhed,  
As is not rife to find the like again.  
For wit and learning framed to obey,  
Her husbands will that willed her to use  
The love he bore her chiefly as a stay,  
For all her friends that would her furtherance choose  
Well sa●d therefore a heavens gift she was,  
Because the best are soonest hence bereft:  
And though herself to heaven henc● did pass,  
Her spoil to earth from whence it came she left.  
And to us tears her absence to lament,  
And eke his chance that was her make by law:  
Whose loss to lo●e so great an ornament,  
Let them esteem which true loves knot can draw●   

That each thing is hurt of itself.  
WHy fearest thou thy outward foe,  
When thou thyself thy harm dost feed,  
Of grief, or hurt, of pain or wo.  
With●n each thing is sown the sede●  
So fine was never yet the clo●h,  
No smith so hard his iron did beat:  
But th'one consumed was with moth,  
Tother with canker all to fret.  
The knotty oak and wainscot old,  
Within doth eat the silly worm:  
Even so a mind in envy ro●d,  
Always within itself doth burn.  
Thus euer● thing that nature wrought  
Within itself his hurt doth bea●e:  
No outward harm need to be sought,  
Where enemies be within so near,   

Of the choice of a wife.  
THe flickering flame that flieth from ear to ear,  
And ay her strength increaseth with her flight,  
gives first the cause why men to hear delight  
Of those whom she doth note for beauty bright,  
And with this fame that fleeth on so fast,  
Fancy doth high when reason mak●s no haste.  
And yet not so content they wish to see  
And thereby know if fame have said aright,  
More trusting to the trial of their eye,  
Then to the brute that goes of any weight,  
Wise in that point that lightly will not leave,  
Unwrie to see that may them after grieve.  
Who knoweth not how sight may love allure,  
And kindle in the heart a hot desire:  
The eye to work ●hat same could not procure,  
Of greater cause there cometh hotter fire,  
For ere he we●e himself he feeleth warm  
The fame and eye the causers of his harm.  
Let fame no● make her known whom I shall know●  
For yet mine eye therein to be my guyde●  
Sufficeth me that virtue in her grow,  
Whose simple life her father's walls do hide,  
Content with this I leave the rest to go,  
And in such choice shall stand my wealth and wo.   

Description of an ungodly word.  
WHo loves to live in peace, and marketh every change,  
shall here such news from time to time, as seem right wondrous strange  
●uch fraud in friendly looks, such friendship all for game:  
Such cloaked wrath in hateful har●s, which worldly men retain.  
Such feigned flattering faith, amongs both high and low●  
Such great deceit, such subtle wits, the poor to overthrow.  
Such spite in sugared tongues, such malice f●ll of pride,  
Such open wrong such great untruth, which cannot go unspied,  
Such restless suit for rowmes● which bringeth men to care:  
Such sliding down from s●ippery seats, yet can we not beware,  
Such barking at ●he good, such bolstering of the ill:  
Such threatening of the wrath of god, such vice embraced still.  
●uch striving for the best, such climbing to estate:  
Such great dissembling every ●here, such love all mixed with hate●  
Such trains to trap the just, such prowling faults to pike,  
Such cruel words for speaking troth, who ever heard the like?  
Such strife for stirring straws, such discord daily wrought:  
Such forged ●ales dull wits to blind, such matters made of nought  
Such trifles told for troth, such crediting of lies,  
Such silence kept when fools do speak, such laughing at the wise,  
Such plenty made ●o scarce, such crying for redress:  
Such fea●ed signs of our decay, which ●ong dares not express,  
Such changes lightly marked, such troubles still appears,  
which never w●re before this time, no not this thousand years.  
Such bribing ●or the purse, which ever gapes for more.  
Such hording up of worldly wealth, such keeping muck in store  
Such folly ●ounde in age, such will in tender youth,  
Such sundry ●or●es among great clerks, & few that speak the truth  
Such falsehood under craft, and such unsteadfast ways,  
was never seen within men's hearts, as is found now a days,  
The cause and ground of this, is our unquiet mind,  
which ●hinks to take those goods away, which we must leave behind  
why do men seek to get which they can not possessed  
Or break their sleeps with careful thoughts & all for wretchedness  
Though one amongs a score, hath wealth and case a while,  
A thousan● want which toileth sore and travail many a mile.  
And some although they sleep yet wealth falls in their lap,  
Thus some be rich, and some be poor, as fortune gives the hap,  
wherefore I hold him wis●, which thinks himself at ease,  
And is content in simple state both god and man to please.  
For those that live like god● and honoured are to ●ay:  
within short time th●ir glory fails as flowers do fade away,  
Uncertain is th●ir lives on whom this world will frown:  
For though th●y sit ●b●ue the stairs, a storm may strike them down  
In wealth who fear●● no f●ll● may slide from joy full soon:  
There is nothing so su●e on earth, but changeth as the moon.  
what pleasure hath the rich, or case more th●n the poor?  
Although he have a pleasant house, his trouble is the more  
They bow and speak him feire, which seek to suck his blood:  
And some do wish his soul in hell, and all to have his good  
The coveting of the goods, doth nought but dull the spirit  
And some men chance to taste the sour, that gropeth for ● the sweet  
The rich is still envied by those which eat his bread:  
With fawning speech and flattering tales his ears are bailie ●ed  
In fine I see and prove the rich have many foes.  
He sleepeth best, and careth least, that little hath to lose,  
As time requireth now, who would avoid much strife,  
Were better live in poor estate, then lead a princes life.  
To pass those troublesome times I see but littil choice,  
But help to wail with those that weep, & laugh when they rejoice  
For as we see to day, our brother brought in care:  
To morrow may we have such chance to fall with him in snare  
Of this we may be sure, who thinks to sit most fast,  
Shall soonest fall like withered leaves that can not bide a blast,  
Though that the flood be great, the ebb as low doth run  
When every man hath played his part our pageant willbe done.  
Who trusts this wretched world, I, hold him worse than mad  
Here is not one that feareth God, the b●st is all to bad.  
For those that seem as saints, are devils in their deeds  
Though that the earth brings forth some flowers it beareth many weeds,  
I see no pres●ut help from mischief to prevail,  
But flee the seas of worldly care or bear a quiet sail,  
For who that meddleth least, shall save himself from smart  
Who stirs an oar in every boat shall play a foolish part   

The despairing lover lamenteth.  
WAlking the path of pensive thought,  
I asked my heart how came this woe:  
Thine eye (quoth he) this care me brought,  
Thy mind, thy wit, thy will also  
Enforceth me to love her ever  
This is the cause joy shall I never  
And as I walk as one dismayed,  
Thinking that wroug this woe me lent:  
Right, sent me word by wrath, which said  
This just judgement to thee is sent:  
●eu●r to 〈…〉 d●●●g ever,  
●●ll ●r●●th th● f●●le, joy shal● thou neu●●  
●●●h right ●oth iu●ge this w● tendure  
Of health of wealth of remedy.  
As I have done so be she sure,  
Of faith and truth until I die.  
And as this pain cloak shall I ever  
●o inwardly joy shall I never,  
Griping of gripes grieve not so sor●  
Nor serpent's sting causeth such smart  
Nothing on earth may pain me more,  
Then sight that pierced my woeful heart  
Drowned with ●a●es still to persever  
Come death betimes joy shall I never,  
O liberty why dost thou swai●e:  
And steal away thus all at ones  
And I in prison like to starve,  
For lack of food do gnaw on bones  
My hope and trust in thee was ever,  
Now thou art gone joy shall I never,  
But still as one all desperate,  
To lead my l●fe in misery:  
Sith fear● from hope hath lock the gate  
Where pity should grant remedy,  
Despair this lot assigns me ever,  
To live in pain, joy shall I never,   

The lover prayeth his service to be accepted, and his defaults pardoned.  
PRo●●yn that sometime served Shafalus  
With heart as true as any lover might.  
Yet her betide in loving this unright  
That as in heart with love surprised thus  
She on a day to see this Shafalus  
Where he was wont to shroud him in the shade  
When of his hunting he an end had made.  
Within the woods with dreadful lote forth stalketh  
So bussly love in her head it walketh.  
That she to seen him may her not restrain.  
This Shafalus that heard one shake the leaves  
Uprist all eager thrusting after pray,  
With dart in hand him list no further deign,  
To see his love but slew her in the greavess,  
That meant to him but perfect love always.  
So curious bene alas the rites all,  
Of mighty love that unneaths may I think,  
In his high service how to look or wink.  
Thus I complain that wretchedst am of all,  
To you my love, and sovereign lady dear,  
That may my heart with death or life steer  
As ye best list. That ye vouchsafe in all  
Mine humble service. And if me misfall,  
By negligence, or else for lack of wit.  
That of your mercy yo● do pardon it,  
And t●●nk y● love made Procrin shake the leaves  
When with unright she slain was in y● griefs.   

Description and praise of his love.  
Like the Phoenix a bird most rare in sight,  
That nature hath with gold and purple dressed:  
Such she me seems in whom I most delight,  
If I might speak for envy at the least.  
Nature I think first wrought her in despite,  
●●rose and lily that summer bringeth first,  
In beauty sure, exceeding all the rest,  
●nder the bent of her brows justly pight:  
●s Diamonds, or sapphires at the least:  
Her glistering lights the darkness of the night.  
Whose little mouth and chin like all the rest.  
〈◊〉 ruddy lips exceed the coral quite.  
●● ivory teeth where none exceeds the rest.  
●autlesse she is from foot unto the waste:  
Her body small and strait as mast upright,  
Her arms long in just proportion cast,  
Her hands depaint with veins all blue & white.  
What shall I say for that is not in sight?  
The hidden parts I judge them by the rest.  
And if I were the foreman of the quest,  
To give a verdict of her beauty bright,  
For give me Phoebus, thou shouldst be dispossessed,  
Which dost usurp my lady's place of right.  
Here will I cease lest envy cause despite.  
But nature when she wrought so fair a wight,  
In this her work she surely did intend,  
To frame a thing that God could not amend.   

The lover declareth his pains to exceed far the pains of hell.  
THe souls that lacked grace,  
Which lie in bitter pain:  
Are not in such a place,  
As foolish folk do feign.  
Tormented all with fire,  
And boil in lead again,  
With serpent's full of ire,  
Stung oft with deadly pain.  
Then cast in frozen pits:  
To freze there certain hours:  
And for their painful fits,  
Appointed tormentors.  
No no it is not so,  
Their sorrow is not such:  
And yet they have of woe,  
I dare say twice as much.  
Which comes because they lack  
The sight of the godhead,  
And be from that kept back  
Where with are angels fed  
This thing know I by love  
Through absence cruelty,  
Which makes me for to prove  
Hell pain before I die.  
There is no tongue can tell  
My thousand part of care  
Theridamas may no fire in hell,  
With my desire compare.  
No boiling lead can pass  
My scalding sighs in heat:  
Nor snake that ever was,  
With s●inging can so frete  
A true and tender heart,  
As my thoughts da●ly do,  
●o that I know but smart,  
And that which longs thereto.  
O Cupid Uenns son,  
As thou hast showed thy might.  
And hast this conquest won,  
Now end the same aright.  
And as I am thy slave,  
Contented with all this:  
So help me soon to have  
My perfect earthly bliss.   

Of the death of sir Thomas w●ate the elder.  
LO dead he lives, that whilom lived here,  
Among the dead that quick go on the groun●.  
Though he be dead, yet doth he quick apere,  
By lively name that death cannot confound  
His life for ay of fame the trump shall sound.  
Though he be dead, yet lives he here alive.  
Thus can no death from Wiate; life deprive.   

That length of time consumeth all things.  
WHat harder is than stone● what more than water soft?  
Yet with soft water dropsy hard stones be persad soft.  
What gives so strong impulse,  
That stone ne may withstands  
What gives more weak repulse.  
Then water pressed with hand:  
Yet week though water be,  
It holowith hardest flint:  
By proof whereof we see,  
Time gives the greatest dint.   

The beginning of the epistle of Penelope to Vlisles, made into verse.  
O Lingering make Ulisses dear, thy wife lo sends to thee,  
He● driry plaint writ not again, but come thyself to me.  
Our hateful scourge that woman's foe proud Troy now is fordon  
We buy it dearer, though Priam slain, and all his kingdom won.  
O that the raging surges great that lechers bane had wrought,  
When first with sh●p he forowed seas, and Lacedaemon sought,  
In desert bed my shivering coarse than should not have sought rest,  
Nor take in grief the cheerful sun so slowly fall to west.  
And whiles I ca●t long running nights, how best I might beguile,  
No dista●● should my widowish hand have weary made the while.  
When dread I not more dangers great then are befall in deed:  
Love is a careful thing God wots, and passing full of dread.   

The lover asketh pardon of his passed folly in lo●e.  
YOu that in play peruse my plaint, and read in rhyme the smart,  
Which in my youth with sighs full cold I harboured in my heart  
Know ye that love in that frail age drove me to that distress,  
when I was half an other man, than I am now to guess.  
Then for this work of wavering words where I now rage now rue  
Tossed in the toys of troublous love, as care or con●ort grew.  
I trust with ●ou that loves affairs b● proof have put in ure:  
Not only pardon in my plaint, but pity to procure.  
For now I wots that in the world a wonder have I be,  
And where to long love made me blind, to late shame makes mese.  
Thus of my fault shame is the fruit, and for my youth thus past,  
Repentance is my recompense, and this I learn at last.  
Look what the world hath most in price, as sure it is to keep.  
As is the dream which fancy drives, while sense and reason sleep.   

The lover showeth that he was stricken by love on good friday.  
IT was the day on which the sun deprived of his light,  
To rue Christ's death amid his course gave place unto y● night  
When I amid mine ease did fall to such distemperate fits,  
That for the face that hath my heart I was bereft my wits.  
I had the bait, the hook and all, and witted not loves pretence,  
But fared as one that feared none ill, nor forced for no defence.  
Thus dwelling in most quiet state, I fell into this plight,  
And that day 'gan my secret sighs, when all folk wept in sight.  
For love that viewed me void of care, approached to take his prey,  
And stepped by stealth from eye to heart, so open lay the way.  
And strait at eyes broke out in tears, so salt that did declare,  
By token of their bitter taste that they were forged of care.  
Now vaunt thee love which fleest a maid defenst with virtues rare,  
And wounded hast a wight unwise, unweaponed and unware.   

The lover describeth his whole state unto his love, and promising her his faithful good will: assureth himself of hers again.  
THe Sun when he hath spread his rays,  
And showed his face ten thousand ways.  
Ten thousand things do then begin,  
To show the life that they are in.  
The heaven shows lively art and hue,  
Of sundry shapes and colours new,  
And laughs upon the earth anon.  
The earth as cold as any stone,  
Wet in the tears of her own kind:  
'Gins then to take a joyful mind.  
For well she feels that out and out,  
The sun doth warm her round about.  
And dries her children tenderly,  
And shows them forth full orderly.  
The mountains high and how they stand,  
The valies and the great main land.  
The trees, the herbs, the towers strong,  
The castles and the rivers long.  
And even for ●oy thus of this heat,  
She showeth forth her pleasures great.  
And s●eepes no more but sendeth forth  
Her c●ergions her own dear worth.  
To mount and fly up to the air,  
Where then they ●ing in order fair.  
And tell in sung ●●il merely,  
How they have slept full quietly,  
That night about their mother's sides.  
And when they have song more besides,  
Then fall they to their mother's breasts,  
Where else they feed or take their rests.  
The hunter than sounds out his horn,  
And rangeth strait through wood and corn.  
On hills then show the Ewe and Lamb,  
And every young one with his damn.  
Then lovers walk and tell their tale,  
Both of their bliss and of their bale.  
And how they serve, and how they do,  
And how their lady loves them to.  
Then tune the ●irdes their armonie.  
Then flock the foul in company.  
Then every thing doth pleasure f●●de,  
In that that comforts all their kind.  
No dreams do drench them of the night,  
Of foes that would them s●ea or bite.  
As Hounds to hunt them at the tail,  
Or men force them through hill and dale.  
The sheep than dreams not o● the wolf,  
The shipman forces not the gulf.  
The Lamb thinks not the butcher's knife.  
Should then bereave him of his life.  
For when the Sun doth once run in,  
Then all their glad●es doth begin.  
And then their ski●s, and then their play  
So falls their sadness the● away.  
And thus all things have comforting,  
In that that doth them comfort bring,  
Save I alas, whom nei●her ●unne,  
Nor aught that God hath wrought and done,  
May comfort aught, as though I were  
A thing not made for comfort here.  
For being absent from your sight,  
Which are my joy and whole delight  
My comfort and my pleasure to,  
How can I joy how should I do?  
May sick men laugh that roar for pain?  
joy they in song that do complain?  
Are martyrs in their torments glad?  
Do pleasures please them that are mad?  
Then how may I in comfort be,  
That lack the thing should comfort me.  
The blind man oft that lacks his sight,  
Complains not most the lack of light.  
But those that knew their perfectness,  
And then do miss their blissfulness.  
In martyrs tunes they sing and wail,  
The want of that which doth them fail.  
And hereof comes that in my brains,  
So many fancies work my pains  
For when I wayghe your worthiness,  
Your wisdom and your gentlnes,  
Your virtues and your sundry grace,  
And mind the countenance of your face,  
And how that you are she alone,  
To whom I must both plain and moan.  
whom I do love and must do still.  
whom I embrace and ay so will,  
To serve and please you as I can,  
As may a woeful faithful man.  
And find myself so far you fro.  
God knows what torment, and what woe,  
My rueful heart doth then embrace.  
The blood than changeth in my face.  
My sinews dull, in pomps I stand.  
No life I feel in fo●e nor hand.  
As pale as any clout and dead,  
Lo suddenly the blood o'erspread,  
And gone again it vill so bide.  
And thus from life to death I slide  
As cold sometimes as any stone,  
And then again as hot anon.  
Thus comes and goes my sundry fits,  
To give me sundri sorts of wits.  
Till that a sigh becomes my friend,  
And then to all this woe doth end.  
And sure I think that sigh doth run,  
From me to you where ay you won.  
For well I find it easeth me,  
And cettes much it pleaseth me,  
To think that it doth come to you,  
As would to God it could so do.  
For than I know you would soon find,  
By scent and savour of the wind.  
That even a martyrs sigh it is,  
Whose joy you are and all his bliss.  
His comfort and his pleasure eke,  
And even the same that he doth seek.  
The same that he doth wish and crave,  
The same that he doth trust to have.  
To tender you in all he may,  
And all your likings to obey,  
As far as in his power shall lie:  
Till death shall dart him for to die.  
But wealeaway mine own most best,  
My joy, my comfort, and my rest.  
The causer of my woe and smart,  
And yet the pleaser of my heart.  
And she that on the earth above:  
Is even the worthiest for to love.  
Hear now my plaint, hear now my wo.  
Hear now his pain that loves you so.  
And if your heart do pity bear,  
Pity the cause that you shall hear.  
A doleful foe in all this doubt,  
Who leaves me not but seeks me out,  
Of wretched form and loathsome face,  
While I stand in this woeful case:  
Comes forth and takes me by the hand,  
And says friend hark and understand.  
I see well by thy port and cheer,  
And by thy looks and thy manner,  
And by thy sadness as thou goest,  
And by the sighs that thou outthrowes●●  
That thou art stuffed full of woe,  
The cause I think I do well know.  
A fantaser thou art of some,  
By whom thy wits are overcome.  
But hast thou red old pamphlets ought?  
Or hast thou known how books have taught  
That love doth use to such as thou,  
When they do think them safe ●now.  
And certain of their lady's grace:  
Hast thou not seen oft tunes the case,  
That suddenly there hap hath turned,  
As things in flame consumed and burnt?  
Some by deceit forsaken right.  
Some likewise changed of fancy light.  
And some by absence soon forgot.  
The lots in love, why knowest thou not?  
And though that she be now thine own:  
And knows the well as may be known.  
And thinks the to be such a one,  
As she likes best to be her own.  
Thinks thou that others have not grace,  
To show and plain their woeful case.  
And chose her for their lady now,  
And swear her troth as well as thou.  
And what if she do alter mind?  
Where is the love that thou wouldst find?  
Absence my friend works wonders oft.  
Now brings full low that lay full fit.  
Now turns the mind now to and fro,  
And where art thou if it were so?  
If basence (quoth I) be marvelous,  
I find her not so dangerous.  
For she may not remove me fro,  
The ●●ore good will that I do owe  
To her, whom uneath I love and shall.  
And chosen have above them all,  
To serve and be her own as far,  
As any man may offer her.  
And will her serve, and will her love,  
As lowly as it shall behove.  
And die her own if fate be so.  
Thus shall my heart nay part her fr●.  
And wilnes shall my good will be,  
That absence takes her not from me.  
But that my love doth still increase,  
To mind her still and never cease.  
And what I feel to be in me,  
The same good will I think hath she,  
As firm and fast to biden ay,  
Till death depart us both away.  
And as I have my tale thus told,  
S●●ps unto me with countenance bold:  
A steadfast friend a counsellor,  
And named is Hope my comforter.  
And stoutly then he speaks and says:  
Thou hast said troth withouten nays.  
For I assure thee even by oath,  
And thereon take my hand and troth.  
That she is one the worthiest,  
The truest and the faithfullest.  
The gentlest and the meekest of mind:  
That here on earth a man may find,  
And if that love and troth were gone,  
In her it might be found alone.  
For in her mind no thought there is,  
But how she may be true ●wis.  
And tenders thee and all thy heal,  
And wisheth both thy health and weal.  
And loves thee even as farforth than,  
As any woman may a man,  
And is thine own and so she says,  
And cares for thee ten thousand ways.  
On thee she speaks, on thee she thinks,  
With thee she eats, with thee she drinks.  
With thee she talks, with thee she moans,  
With thee she sighs, with thee she groans.  
With thee she says farewell mine own.  
When thou God knows full far art gone.  
And even to tell thee all aright,  
To thee she says full oft good night.  
And names thee oft, her own most dear,  
Her comfort weal and all her cheer.  
And tells her pelow all the tale,  
How thou hast done her woe and bale,  
And how she longs and plains for thee,  
And says why art thou so from me?  
Am I not she that loves the best?  
Do I not wish thine ease and test?  
Seek I not how I may the please?  
Why art thou then so from thine ease?  
If I be she for whom thou carest,  
For whom in torments so thou farest:  
Alas thou knowest to find me here,  
Where I remain thine own most dear,  
Thine own most true thine own most just,  
Thine own that loves the still and must.  
Thine own that cares alone for thee,  
As thou I think dost care for me.  
And even the woman she alone,  
That is full bend to be thine own.  
What wilt thou more? what canst thou crave?  
Since she is as thou wouldst her have.  
Then set this drivel out of door,  
That in thy brains such tales doth poor.  
Of absence and of changes strange,  
Send him to those that use to change.  
For she is none I the avow,  
And well thou mayest believe me now.  
When hope hath thus his reason said,  
Lord how I feel me well apaid.  
A new blood then orespredes my bones,  
That all in joy I stand at ones.  
My hands I throw to heaven above,  
And humbly thank the god of love.  
That of his grace I should bestow,  
My love so well as I it owe.  
And all the planets as they stand,  
I thank them to with heart and hand.  
That their aspects so friendly were,  
That I should so my good will bear.  
To you that are the worthiest,  
The fairest and the gentillest.  
And best can say, and best can do,  
That longs me thinks a woman to.  
And therefore are most worthy far,  
To be beloved as you ar.  
And so says hope in all his tale,  
Whereby he easeth all my bale.  
For I believe and think it true,  
That he doth speak or say of you.  
And thus contented lo I stand,  
With that that hope bears me in hand:  
That I am yours and shall so be,  
Which hope I keep full sure in me.  
As he that all my comfort is,  
On you alone which are my bliss.  
My pleasure chief which most I find,  
And even the whole joy of my mind.  
And shall so be until the death,  
Shall make me yield up life and breath.  
Thus good mine own, lo here my trust.  
Lo here my truth and service just.  
Lo in what case for you I stand.  
Lo how you have me in your hand.  
And if you can requite a man,  
Requite me as you find me then.   

Of the troubled common wealth restored to quiet by the mighty power of god.  
THe secret flame that made all Troy so hot,  
Long did it lurk within the wooden horse.  
The machine huge Trojans suspected not,  
The guiles of Greeks, nor of their hidden force:  
Till in their beds their armed foes them met,  
And slew them there, and Troy on fire set.  
Then rose the roar of treason round about,  
And children could of treason call and cry.  
wives wrung their hands, the hole fired town through out,  
when that they saw their husband's slain them by.  
And to the Gods and to the skies they shright,  
Vengeance to take for treason of that night.  
Then was the name of Simon spread and blown,  
And whereunto his filled tale did tend.  
The secret starts and meetings than were knows  
Of Trojan traitors tending to this end.  
And every man could say as in that case:  
Treason in Antenor and Aeneas,  
But all to long such wisdom was in store,  
To late came out the name of traitor than,  
When that their king the altar lay before  
Slain there alas, that worthy noble man.  
Ilium on flame, the matrons crying out,  
And all the streets in streams of blood about.  
But such was fate, or such was simple trust,  
That king and all should thus to ruin run,  
For if our stories certain be and just:  
There were that saw such mischief should be done  
And warning gave which counted were in sort,  
As sad divines in matter but of sport.  
Such was the time and so in state it stood,  
Troy trembled not so careless were the men.  
They broke the walls, they took this horse for good,  
They deemed Greeks gone, they thought all surety then.  
When treason start & set the town on fire,  
And stroied Troyans' & gave Greeks their desire.  
Like to our time, wherein hath broken out,  
The hidden harm that we suspected least.  
Wombed within our walls and realm about,  
As Greeks in Troy were in the Greekish beast.  
Whose tempest great of harms and of arms,  
We thought not on, till it did noise our harms.  
Then felt we well the pillar of our wealth,  
How sore it shaken, then saw we even at hand,  
Ruin how she rushed to confound our health,  
Our realm and us with force of mighty band.  
And then we heard how treason loud did roar:  
Mine is the rule, and reign I will therefore.  
Of treason mark the nature and the kind,  
A face it bears of all humility.  
Truth is the cloak, and friendship of the mind,  
And deep it goes, and worketh secretly,  
Like to a mine that creeps so nigh the wall,  
Till out breaks sulphur, and oreturneth all.  
But he on high that secretly beholds  
The state of things: and times hath in his hand,  
And plucks in plagues, and them again unsoldes.  
And hath appointed realms to fall and stand:  
He in the ●●ost of all this stir and rout,  
'Gan bend his brows, and move himself about.  
As who should say, and are ye minded so?  
And thus to those, and whom you know I love.  
Am I such one as none of you do know?  
Or know ye not that I sit here above,  
And in my hands do hold your wealth and woe,  
To raise you now, and now to overthrow?  
Then think that I, as I have set you all,  
In places where your honours lay and fame:  
So now myself shall give you each your fall,  
Where each of you shall have your worthy shame.  
And in their hands I will your fall shallbe,  
Whose fall in yours you sought so sore to see.  
Whose wisdom high as h● the same foresaw,  
So is it wrought, such lo his justice is.  
He is the Lord of man and of his law,  
Praise therefore now his mighty name in this,  
And make account that this our case doth stand:  
As Israel free, from wicked Pharaos' hand.   

The lover to his loue● having forsaken him, and betaken herself to an other.  
THe bird that sometime built within my breast,  
And there as then chief succour did receive:  
Hath now else where built her another nest,  
And of the old hath taken quite her leave.  
To you mine host that harbour mine old guest,  
Of such a one, as I can now conceive,  
Sith that in change her choice dorh chief consist,  
The hawk may c●eck, that now comes fair to first.   

The lover showeth that in dissembling his love openly he keepeth secret his secret good will.  
NOt like a God came jupiter to woe,  
When he the fair Europa sought unto.  
another form his godly wisdom took,  
Such in effect as writeth Ouides book.  
As on the earth no living wight can tell.  
That mighty jove did love the queen so well.  
For had he come in golden garments bright,  
Or so as men mought have stared on the sight:  
Spread had it been both through earth and air,  
That jove had loved the lady Europa fair.  
And then had some been angry at the heart,  
And some again as jealous for their part.  
Both which to stop, this gentle god took mind,  
To shape himself into a brutish kind.  
To such a kind as hide what state he was,  
And yet did bring him what he sought to pass.  
To both their joys, to both their comfort soon,  
Though known to none, till all the thing was done  
In which attempt if I the like assay,  
To you to whom I do myself bewray:  
Let it suffice that I do seek to be,  
Not counted yours, and yet for to be he.   

The lover deceived by his love repenteth him of the true love he bore her.  
I That Ulysses years have spent,  
To find Penelope:  
Find well that folly I have meant,  
To seek that was not so.  
Since Troylous case hath caused me,  
From Cressida for to go.  
And to bewails Ulysses truth,  
In seas and stormy skies,  
Of wanton will and raging youth,  
Which me have tossed sore:  
From Scylla to Charybdis' clives,  
Upon the drowning shore.  
Where I sought 〈◊〉, there found I hap,  
From danger unto death:  
Much like the Mouse that treads the trap,  
In hope to find her food,  
And bites the bread that stops her breath,  
So in like case I stood.  
Till now repentance hasteth him  
To further me so fast:  
That where I sank, there now I swim,  
And have both stream and wind:  
And luck as good if it may last,  
As any man may find.  
That where I perished, safe I pass,  
And find no peril there:  
But steady stone, no ground of glass,  
Now am I sure to save,  
And not to fleet from fear to fear,  
Such anchor hold I have.   

The lover having enjoyed his love, humbly thanketh the god of love: and avowing his heart only to her faithfully promiseth, utterly to forsake all other.  
THou Cupid God of love, whom Venus' thralls do serve,  
I yield thee thanks upon my knees, as thou dost well deserve.  
By thee my wished joys have shaken of despair,  
And all my storming days be past, and weather waxeth fair.  
By thee I have received a thousand ttmes more joy,  
Then ever Paris did possess, when Helen was in Troy.  
By thee have I that hope, for which I longed so sore,  
And when I th●●ke upon the same, my heart doth leap therefore.  
By thee my h●●●y doubts and trembling fears are fled,  
And now my wits that troubled were, with pleasant thoughts are fed.  
For dread is banished clean, wherein I stood full oft,  
And doubt to speak that lay full low, is lifted now aloft.  
With arms bespread abroad, with opened hands and heart.  
I have enjoyed the fruit of hope, reward for all my smart.  
The seal and sign of love, the key of troth and trust,  
The pledge of pure good will have I, which makes the lovers just  
Such grace sins I have found, to one I me betake,  
The rest of Venus' deelinges all, I utterly forsake.  
And to perform this vow, I bid mine eyes beware,  
That they no strangers do salute, nor on their beauties stare.  
My wits I warn ye all from this time forth take heed,  
That ye no wanton toys devise my fancies new to feed.  
Mine cares by ye shit up, and hear no woman's voice,  
That may procure me once to smile, or make my heart rejoice.  
My feet full slow be ye and lame when ye should move,  
To bring my body any where to seek an other love,  
Let all the Gods above, and wicked spirits below,  
And every wight in earth accuse and curse me where I go:  
If I do false my faith in any point or case,  
A sudden vengeance fall on me, I ask no better grace.  
Away then silly rhyme, present mine earnest faith,  
Unto my lady where she is, and mark ●hou what she saith.  
And if she welcome thee, and lay thee in her lap,  
Spring thou for joy, thy master hath his most desired hap.   

Totus mundus in maligno positus.  
Complain we may: much is amiss:  
Hope is nigh gone to have redress:  
These days been ill, nothing sure is:  
Kind heart is wrapped in heaviness.  
The stern is broke: the sail is rend:  
The ship is given to wind and wave:  
All help is gone: the rock present.  
That will be lost, what man can save?  
Things hard, therefore are now refused.  
Labour in youth is thought but vain:  
Duty by (will not) is excused.  
Remove the stop the way is plain.  
Learning is lewd, and held a fool:  
Wisdom is sh●nt counted to rail:  
Reason is banished out of school:  
The blind is bold, and words prevail,  
Power, without care, stepeth at ease:  
Will, without law, runth where he list:  
Might without mercy can not please.  
A wise man saith not, had I witted.  
When power lacks care and forceth not:  
When care is feeble and may not:  
When might is slothful and will not:  
weeds may grow where good herbs cannot.  
Take wrong away, law needeth not:  
For law to wrong is bridle and pain.  
Take fear away, law booteth not.  
To strive 'gainst stream, it is but vain.  
Wyly is witty: brainsick is wise:  
Troth is folly: and might is right:  
Words are reason: and reason is lies:  
The bad is good: darkness is light.  
Wrong to redress, wisdom dare not.  
Hardy is happy, and ruleth most.  
wilful is witless, and careth not,  
Which end go first, till all be lost.  
Few right do love, and wrong refuse.  
Pleasure is sought in every state.  
Liking is lust: there is no choose.  
The low give to the high check mate.  
Order is broke in things of weight.  
Measure and mean who doth not flee?  
Two things prevail: money, and sleight.  
To seem is better than to be.  
The bowl is round, and doth down slide,  
Each one thrusteth: none doth uphold.  
A fall fails not, where blind is guide.  
The stay is gone: who can him hold?  
Folly and falsehood prayeth apace.  
Troth under bushel is feign to creep.  
Flattery is triple, pride singes the bace.  
The mean the best part scant doth peep.  
This fiery plague the world infects.  
To virtue and troth it gives no rest:  
men's hearts are burnt with sundry sects,  
And to each man his way is best.  
With floods and storms thus be we tossed,  
Awake good Lord, to thee we cry.  
Our ship is almost sonk and lost.  
Thy mercy help our misery.  
Man's strength is weak: man's wit is dull:  
Man's reason is blind. These things t'amend,  
Thy hand (O Lord) of might is full,  
Awake betime, and help us send.  
In thee we trust, and in no wight:  
Save us as chickens under the hen.  
Our crookedness thou canst make right,  
Glory to thee for aye. Amen.   

The wise trade of life.  
DO all your deeds by good advise,  
Cast in your mind always the end.  
Wit bought is of to dear a price.  
The tried, trust, and take as friend,  
For friends I find there be but two:  
Of countenance, and of effect.  
Of th'one sort there are enough:  
But few been of the other sect.  
Beware also the venom sweet  
Of crafty words and flattery.  
For to deceive they be most meet,  
That best can play hypocrisy.  
Let wisdom rule your deed and thought:  
So shall your works be wisely wrought.   

That few words show wisdom, and work much quiet.  
WHo list to lead a quiet life,  
Who list to rid himself from strife:  
give ear to me, mark what I say,  
Remember well, bear it away.  
Hold back thy tongue at meat and meal,  
Speak but few words, bestrow them well.  
By words the wise thou shalt espy,  
By words a fool soon shalt thou try.  
A wise man can his tongue make cease,  
A fool can never hold his peace,  
Who loveth rest of words beware.  
Who loveth words, is sure of care.  
For words oft many have been shent:  
For silence kept none hath repent.  
Two ears, one tongue only thou hast,  
more things to hear then words to waste.  
A fool in no wise can forbear:  
He hath two tongues and but one ear.  
Be sure thou keep a steadfast brain,  
Lest that thy words put thee to pain.  
Words wisely set are worth much gold:  
The price of rashness is soon told.  
If time require words to be had,  
To hold thy peace I count thee mad.  
Talk only of needful verities:  
Strive not for trifling fantasies.  
With soberness the truth poult out,  
Affirm nothing wherein is doubt.  
Who to this lore will take good heed,  
And spend no more words than he need,  
Though he be a fool and have no brain,  
Yet shall h● a name of wisdom gain  
Speak while time is or hold thee still.  
Words out of time do oft things spill.  
Say well and do well are things twain,  
Twice blessed is he in whom both reign.   

The complaint of a hot wooer, delayed with doubtful cold answers.  
A Kind of coal is as men say,  
Which have assayed the same:  
That in the fire will waste away,  
And outward cast no flame.  
Unto myself may I compare,  
These coals that so consume:  
Where nought is seen though men 〈◊〉 ●●are●  
In stead of flame but fume.  
They say also to make them burn;  
Cold water must be cast:  
Or else to ashes will they turn,  
And half to sinder, waist.  
As this is wonder for to see,  
Cold water warm the fire.  
So hath your coldness caused me,  
To burn in my desire.  
And as this water cold of kind,  
Can cause both heat and cold,  
And can these coals both break and bind,  
To burn as I have told.  
So can your tongue of frozen ice,  
From whence cold answers come:  
Both cool the fire and fire entice,  
To burn me all and some.  
Like to the corn that stands on stake,  
Which mown in winter sun:  
Full fair without, within is black:  
Such heat therein doth run.  
By force of fire this water cold,  
Hath bred to burn within,  
Even so am I, that heat doth hold,  
which cold did first begin.  
which heat is stint when I do strive,  
To have some ease sometime:  
But flame a fresh I do revive,  
Whereby I cause to climb.  
In stead of smoke a sighing breath:  
with sparks of sprinkled tears.  
That I should live this living death,  
Which wastes and never wears.   

The answer.  
YOur borrowed mean to move your moan, of fume ●outen flame  
Being set from smithy smoking coal: ye seem so by the same.  
To show, what such coals use is taught by such as have assayed,  
As I, that most do wish you well, am so right well apaid.  
That you have such a lesson learned, how either to maintain,  
Your freedom of unkindled coal, upheaped all in vain:  
Or how most fruitfully to frame, with worthy workman's art,  
That cunning piece may pass there fro, by help of heated heart.  
Out of the forge wherein the fume of sighs doth mount aloft  
That argues present force of fire to make the metal soft,  
To yield unto the hammer head, as best the workman likes.  
That thiron glowy●g after blast in time and temper strikes.  
Wherein the use of water is, as you do seem to say,  
To quench no flame, ne hind. heat, ne yet to waste away:  
But, that which better is for you● and more delighteth me,  
To save you from the sudden waste, vain cinderlike to be.  
Which lasting better li●es in love, as you your semble ply.  
Then doth the bavin blaze, that flames and fleeteth by and by.  
Sith than you know each use, wherein your coal may be applied:  
Either to lie and last on hoard, in open air to bide,  
withouten use to gather fat by falling of the rains,  
That makes the pitchy iucye to grow, by soaking in his veins,  
Or lie on furnace in the forge, as is his use of right,  
Wherein the water trough may serve, and enteryeld her might  
By work of smiths both hand and head a cunning key to make,  
Or other piece as cause shall crave and bid him undertake:  
Do as you dame most fit to do, and whereupon may grow,  
Such joy to you, as I may joy your joyful case to know.   

An epitaph made by. w. G. lying on his death bed, to be set upon his own tomb.  
LO here lieth G. under the ground  
Among the greedy worms,  
Which in his life time never found  
But strife and sturdy storms.  
And namely through a wicked wife,  
As to the world appears:  
She was the shortening of his life  
By many days and years.  
He might have lived long, god wots:  
His years, they were but young:  
Of wicked w●ues this is the lot,  
To kill with spiteful tongue.  
Who● memory shall still remain  
In writing here with me,  
That men may know whom she hath slain,  
And say this ●ame is she.   

An answer.  
IF that thy wicked wife had spon the thread,  
And were the weaver of thy woe:  
Then art thou double happy to be dead,  
As happily dispatched so.  
If rage did causeless cause thee to complain,  
And mad mood mover of thy moan:  
If frenzy forced on thy testy brain:  
Then blessed is she to live alone.  
So, whether were the ground of others grief,  
Because so doubtful was the doom:  
Now death hath brought your pain a right relief,  
And blessed be ye both become:  
She, that she lives no longer bound to beat  
The rule of such a froward head:  
Thou, that thou livest no longer feign to fear  
The restless ramp that thou hadst wed,  
Be thou as glad therefore that thou art gone,  
As she is glad she doth avide:  
For so ye be a sunder, all is one:  
A badder match can not betide.   

An epitaph of master Henry williams.  
FRom worldly woe the meed of misbelief,  
From ●●use of care that leadeth to lament,  
From vain delight the ground of greater grief,  
From fear for friends, from matter to repent,  
From painful pangs la●t sorrow that is sent,  
From dread of death ●ith death doth set us free:  
With it the better pleased should we be.  
This loathsome life where liking we do find,  
Thencreaser of our crimes, doth us bereave  
Our bliss that always aught to be in mind.  
This wily world whiles here we breath alive,  
And flesh our feigned foe, do stiffly strive  
To flatter us assuring here the joy,  
Where we, alas, do find but great annoy.  
Untolde heaps though we have of worldly wealth,  
Though we possess the sea and fruitful ground,  
Strength, beauty, knowledge, and unharmed health,  
Though at a wish all pleasure do abound.  
It were but vain, no friendship can be found,  
when death assalteth with his dreadful dart.  
No ransom can stay the home hasting heart.  
And sith thou cut the lives line in twain,  
Of Henry, son to sir john William's knight,  
whose manly heart and prows none could stain.  
Whose godly life to virtue was our light,  
Whose worthy fame shall flourish long by right.  
Though in this life so cruel mightest thou be,  
His spirit in heaven shall triumph over thee.   

An other of the same.  
STay gentle friend that passest by,  
And learn the lore that leadeth all:  
From whence we come with haste to high,  
To live, to die, and stand to fall.  
And learn that strength and lusty age,  
That wealth and want of worldly woe,  
Can not withstand the mighty rage,  
Of death our best unwelcome foe.  
For hopeful youth had height me health.  
My lust to last till time to die,  
And fortune found my virtue wealth:  
But yet for all that here I lie.  
Learn also this, to ease thy mind:  
when death on corpse hath wrought his spite,  
A time of triumph shalt thou find,  
with me to scorn him in delight.  
For one day shall we meet again,  
Maugre deaths dart in life to dwell.  
Then will I thank thee for thy pain,  
Now mark my words and far thou well.   

Against women, either good or bad.  
A Man may live thrice Nestor's life,  
Thrice wander out Ulysses race:  
Yet never find Ulysses wife.  
Such change hath chanced in this case.  
Less age will serve than Paris had,  
Small pain (if none be small enough)  
To find good store of Helenes trade.  
Such sap the rote doth yield the bough.  
For one good wife Ulysses slew  
A worthy knot of gentle blood:  
For one●yll wife Grece overthrew  
The town of Troy: Sith bad and good  
Bring mischief: Lord let be thy will,  
To keep me free from either ill.   

An answer.  
THe virtue of Ulysses wife  
Doth live, though she hath ceased her race,  
And far surmounts old Nestor's life:  
But now in more than then it was.  
Such change is chanced in this case.  
Lady's now live in other trade:  
far other Helenes now we see,  
Than she whom Trojan Paris had.  
As virtue feeds the root, so be  
The sap and rote of bough and tree.  
Ulysses rage, not his good wife,  
spilled gentle blood. Not Helenes face,  
But Paris eye did raise the strife,  
That did the Trojan building race.  
Thus sith ne good, ne bad do yll●  
Them all, O Lord maintain my wyll●  
To serve with all my force and skill.   

Against a gentle woman by whom he was refused.  
TO false report and flying fame,  
whilist my mind gave credit light,  
believing that her bolstered name  
Had stuff to show that praise did height.  
I find well now I did mistake,  
Upon report my ground to make.  
I heard it said such one was she,  
As rare to find as paragon,  
Of lowly cheer, of heart so free,  
As her for bounty could pass none.  
Such one were fair though form and face,  
Were mean to pass in second place,  
I sought it near, and thinking to find  
Report and deed both to agree:  
But change had tried her subtle mind:  
Of force I was enforced to see,  
That she in deed was nothing so:  
Which made my will my heart forego.  
For she is such, as geason none.  
And what she most may boast to be:  
I find her matches more than one.  
What need she so to deal with me?  
Mastering face, with scornful heart,  
So ill reward for good deserts  
I will repent that I have done,  
To end so well the loss is small:  
I lost her love, that less hath won.  
To vaunt she had me as her thrall.  
What though a gillot sent that not●,  
By cock and pie I meant it not.   

The answer.  
WHom fancy forced first to love.  
Now frenzy forceth for●o hate:  
whose mind erst madness 'gan to moue●  
Inconstance causeth to abate.  
No mind of mean, dut heat of brain  
Bred light love: like heat, ●ate again  
What hurled your heart in so great heat●  
fancy forced by feigned same.  
Belike that she was light to get●  
For if that virtue and good name  
Moved your mind, why changed your will,  
scythe virtue the cause abideth still.  
Such, Fame reported her to be  
As rare it were to find her peer,  
For virtue and for honesty,  
For her free heart and lowly cheer.  
This laud had lied if you had sped,  
And fame been false that hath been spread.  
Sith she hath so kept her good name.  
Such praise of life and gifts of grace,  
As brute self blusheth for to blame,  
Such fame as fame fears to deface:  
You slander not but make it plain,  
That you blame brute of brutish train.  
If you have found it looking near,  
Not as you took the brute to be.  
belike you meant by lowly cheer,  
Bounty and heart that you call free,  
But lewd lightness easy to frame,  
To win your will against her name.  
Nay she may dame your deming so,  
A mark of madness in his kind,  
Such causeth not good name to go:  
As your fond folly sought to find.  
For brute of kind bent ill to blaze,  
Always saith ill, but forced by cause.  
The more there be, such as is she,  
More should be gods thank for his grace.  
The more is her joy it to see.  
Good should by geason, earn no place,  
Nor number make nought, that is good.  
Your strange lusting head wants a hood.  
Her dealing grieveth you (say ye)  
Byside your labour lost in vain.  
Her dealing was not as we see,  
Slander the end of your great pain,  
Ha lewd lying lips, and hateful heart,  
What canst thou desire in such desert.  
Ye will repent, and right for done.  
Ye have a deed deserving shame.  
From reason's race far have ye run.  
Hold your railing, keep your tongue tame.  
Her love, ye lie, ye lost it not.  
Ye never lost that ye never got.  
She rest ye not your liberty,  
She vaunteth not she had your thrall.  
If ought have done it, let it lie,  
On rage that rest you wit and all.  
What though a varlet's tale you tell:  
By cock and pie you do it well.   

The lover dredding to move his suit for doubt of denial, accuseth all women of disdain and fickleness.  
TO walk on doubtful ground, where danger is unseen,  
Doth double men that careless be in deep despair I ween.  
For as the blind doth fear, what footing he shall find:  
So doth the wise before he speak, mistrust the strangers mind.  
For he that blontly runs, may light among the breers,  
And so be put unto his plunge where danger lest appears:  
The bird that selly fool, doth warn us to beware,  
Who lighteth not on every bush, he dreadeth so the snare.  
The Mouse that shons the trap, doth show what harm doth lie:  
Within the sweet betraying bait, that oft disceives the eye.  
The fish avoids the hook, though hunger bids him bite,  
And hovereth still about the worm, whereon is his delight.  
If birds and beasts can see, where their undoing lies:  
How should a mischief scape our heads, that have both wit & eyes?  
What madness may be more, then blow the barren fielde●  
Or any fruitful words to sow, to ears that are unwild.  
They hear and than mislike, they like and then they loath,  
They hate, they love, they scorn, they praise, yea sure they can do both  
We see what falls they have, that clime on trees unknown:  
As they that trust to rotten bows, must needs be overthrown.  
A smart in silence kept, doth ease the heart much more,  
Than for to plain where is no salve, for to recure the sore.  
Wherefore my grief I hide, within a hollow heart:  
Until the smoke thereof be spread, by flaming of the smart.   

An answer  
TO trust the feigned face, to rue on forced tears,  
To credit finely forged tales, wherein there oft appears  
And breathes as from the breast a smoke of kindled smart,  
Where only lurks a deep deceit within the hollow heart,  
Betrays the simple soul, whom plain deceitlesse mind  
Taught not to fear that in itself, itself did never find.  
Not every trickling tear doth argue inward pain:  
Not every sigh doth surely show the sigher not to feign:  
Not every smoke doth prove a presence of the fire:  
Not every glistering gives the gold, that greedy folk desire:  
Not every wailing word is drawn out of the deep:  
Not grief for want of granted grace enforceth all to weep.  
Oft malice makes the mind to shed the boiled brine:  
And envies humour oft unlades by conduits of the eyen.  
Oft craft can cause the man to make a seeming show,  
Of heart with dolour all distrained, where grief did never grow.  
As cursed Crocodile most cruelly can toll,  
With truthless tears, unto his death, the silly pitying soul.  
Blame never those therefore, that wisely can beware  
The guileful man, that sutly saith himself to dread the snare.  
Blame not the stopped ears against the sirens song:  
Blame not the mind not moved with moan of falsheds' flowing tongue.  
If guile do guide your wit by silence so to speak,  
By craft to crave and feign by fraud the cause that you would break.  
Great harm your subtle soul shall suffer for the same:  
And mighty love will wreak the wrong, so cloaked with his name.  
But we, whom you have warned, this lesson learn by you:  
To know the tree before we climb, to trust no rotten bow,  
To view the limed bush, to look afore we light,  
To shun the perilous baited hook, and use a further sight.  
As do the mouse, the bird, the fish, by samply fitly show.  
That wily wits and gins of men do work the simples woe:  
So, simple sith we are, and you so subtle be,  
God help the Mouse, the bird, the fish, & us your sleights to ●●e.   

The lover complaineth his fault, that with ungentle writing had displeased his lady.  
AH love how wayward is his wit what pangs do pierce his breast  
Whom thou to wait upon thy will haste reaved of his rest.  
The light, the dark, the sun, the moan, the day & eke the night,  
His daily dying life, himself, he hateth in despite,  
Sith furst he light to look on her that holdeth him in thrall,  
His moving eyen his moved wit he curseth heart and all,  
From hungry hope to pining fear each hap doth hurl his heart,  
From pangs of plaint to fits of fume from aching into smart.  
Each moment so doth change his ch●re not with recourse of ease,  
But with sear sorts of sorrows still he worketh as the seas.  
That turning winds not calm returned rule in unruly wise,  
As if their holds of hills uphurld they brasten out to rise.  
And puff away the power that is unto their king assigned  
To pay that scythe their prisonment they dame to be behind.  
So doth the passions long repressed within the woeful wight,  
Break down the banks of all his wits & out they gushen quite.  
To rear up rores now they be free from reason's rule and stay,  
And headlong hales thunruled race his quiet quite away.  
No measure hath he of his ruth, no reason in his rage,  
No bottom ground where stays his grief, thus wears away his age  
In wishing wants, in wailing woes. Death doth he daily call,  
To bring release when of relief he seeth no hope at all.  
Thence comes that oft in deep despair to rise to better state.  
On heaven and heavenly lamps he layeth the fault of all his fate.  
On God and Gods decreed doom crieth out with cursing breath,  
Each thing that gave and saves him life he damneth of his death.  
The womb him bare, the breasts he sucked, each star that with their might.  
Their secret succour brought to bring the wretch to worldly light  
Yea that to his soul's peril is most heinous harm of all,  
And craves the cruelest revenge that may to man befall:  
Her he blasphemes in whom it lieth in present as she please,  
To damn him down to depth of hell, or plant in heavens case.  
Such rage constrained my strained heart to guide th'unhappy hand  
That sent unfitting blots to her on whom my life doth stand.  
But grant O God that he for them may bear the worthy blame  
Whom I do in my deep distress find guilty of the same,  
Even that blind boy that blindly guides the faultless to their fall,  
That laughs when they lament that he hath thrown into thrall.  
Or Lord, save louring looks of her, what penance else thou please  
So her contented will be won I count it all mine ease.  
And thou on whom doth hang my will, with heart, with soul & care,  
With life and all that life may have of well or evil fare:  
Grant grace to him that grates therefore with sea of saltish brine  
By extreme heat of boiling breast distilled through his eyen.  
And with thy fancy render thou myself to me again,  
That daily then we duly may employ a painless pain.  
To yield and take the joyful fruits that ●erty love doth lend●  
To them that mean by honest means to come to happy end.   

The lover wounded of Cupid, wisheth he had rather been st●●ken by death.  
THe blinded boy that bends the bow.  
To make with dint of double wound:  
The stoutest state to stoop and know:  
The cruel craft that I have found.  
With death I would had chopped a change,  
To ●orow as by bargain made:  
Each others shaft when he did range,  
With restless roving to invade.  
Thunthralled minds of simple wights,  
Whose guiltless ghosts deserved not:  
To feel such fall of their delights,  
Such pangs as I have past God wots.  
Then both in new unwonted wise,  
Should death deserve a better name,  
Not (as tofore hath been his guise)  
Of cruelty to bear the blame.  
But contrary be counted kind,  
In lending life and sparing space:  
For sick to rise and seek to find,  
A way to wish their weary race  
To draw to some desired end,  
Their long and loathed life to rid.  
And so to feel how like a friend,  
Before the bargain made he did.  
And love should either bring again,  
To wounded wights their own desire:  
A welcome end of pining pain,  
As doth their cause of ruth require:  
Or when he means the quiet man,  
A harm to hasten him to grief:  
A better deed he should do then,  
With borrowed dart to give relief.  
That both the sick well demen may,  
He brought me rightly my request:  
And eke the other sort may say,  
He wrought me truly for the best.  
So had not fancy forced me,  
To bear a brun● of greater woe:  
Then leaving such a life may be,  
The ground where only griefs do grow.  
Unlucky liking linked my heart,  
In forged hope and forced fear:  
That oft I wished the other dart,  
Had rather pierced me as near.  
A feigned trust, constrained care,  
Most loath to lack, most hard to find:  
In sunder so my judgement tore,  
That quite was quiet out of mind.  
Absent in absence of mine ease,  
Present in presence of my pain:  
The woes of want did much displease,  
The sighs I sought did grieve again.  
Oft grief that boiled in my breast,  
Hath fraught my face with saltish tearest  
Pronouncing proofs of mine unrest,  
Whereby my passed pain appears.  
My sighs full often have supplied,  
That feign with words I would have said:  
My voice was stopped my tongue was tied,  
My wits with woe were overwayd.  
With trembling soul and humble chere●  
Oft grated I for grant of grace:  
On hope that bounty might be there,  
Where beauty had so pight her place.  
At length I found, that I did fere,  
How I had laboured all to loss,  
Myself had been the carpenter,  
That framed me the cruel cross.  
Of this to come if doubt alone,  
Though bl●nt with trust of better speed:  
So oft hath moved my mind to moon,  
So oft hath made my heart to bleed.  
What shall I say of it in deed,  
Now hope is gone mine old relief:  
And I enforced all to feed,  
Upon the fruits of bitter grief?   

Of women's changeable will.  
I Would I found not as I feel,  
Such changing cheer of women's will,  
By fickle flight of fortunes wheel,  
By kind or custom, never still.  
So should I find no fault to lay,  
On fortune for their moving mind,  
So should I know no cause to say  
This change to chance by course of kind.  
So should not love so work my woe,  
To make death surgeant for my sore,  
So should their wits not wander so,  
So should I reck the less therefore.   

The lover complaineth the loss of his lady.  
NO joy have I, but live in heaviness,  
My dame of price bereft by fortune's cruelness,  
My hap is turned to unhappiness,  
Unhappy I am unless I find release.  
My pastime past, my youthlike years are gone,  
My mouths of mirth, my glistering days of gladsomeness:  
My times of triumph turned into moan.  
Unhappy I am unless I find release.  
My wont wind to chant my cheerful chance,  
Doth sigh that song sometime the ballads of my less:  
My sobs, my sore and sorrow do advance.  
Unhappy I am unless I find release.  
I mourn my mirth for grief that it is gone,  
I mourn my mirth whereof my musing mindfulness:  
Is ground of greater grief that grows thereon,  
Unhappy I am unless I find release.  
No joy have I: for fortune frowardly:  
Hath bend her brows hath put her hand to cruelness:  
Hath rest my dame, constrained me to cry,  
Unhappy I am unless I find release.   

Of the golden mean.  
THe wisest way, thy boat, in wave and wind to guy,  
Is neither still the trade of middle stream to try:  
Ne (warily shunning wreck by wether) aye to me,  
To press upon the perilous shore,  
Both cleanly flees he silthe: ne wonnes a wretched wight.  
In carlish coat: and careful court a●e thrall to spite,  
With port of proud estate he leaves: who doth delight,  
Of golden mean to hold the lore.  
storms rifest rend the sturdy stout pineapple t●e.  
Of lofty ruing towers the falls the feller be.  
Most fers doth lightening light, where furthest we do se.  
The hills the valley to forsake.  
well furnished breast to bide each chanses changing cheer,  
In woe hath cheerful hope, in weal hath warefull fear,  
One self jove winter makes with lothfull looks appear,  
That can by course the same aslake.  
What if into mishap thy case now casten be?  
It forceth not such form of luck to last to thee.  
Not always bend is Phoebus' bow: his harp and he,  
Ceased silver sound sometime doth raise.  
In hardest hap use help of hardy hopeful heart.  
Seem bold to bear the brunt of fortune overthwart.  
Eke wisely when forewind to full breaths on thy part,  
Suage swelling sail, and doubt decays.   

The praise of a true friend.  
WHo so that wisely ways the profit and the price,  
Of things wherein delight by worth is wont to rise.  
Shall find no jewel is so rich ne yet so rare,  
That with the friendly heart in value may compare.  
What other wealth to man by fortune may befall,  
But fortunes changed cheer may reave a man of all.  
A friend no wrack of wealth, no cruel cause of woe,  
Can force his friendly faith unfriendly to forego.  
If fortune friendly fawn, and lend thee wealthy store,  
Thy friends conjoined joy doth make thy joy the more.  
If frowardly she frown and drive thee to distress,  
His aid relieves thy ruth, and makes thy sorrow less.  
Thus fortunes pleasant fruits by friends increased be,  
The bitter sharp and sour by friends allayed to thee.  
That when thou dost rejoice, then doubled is thy joy,  
And eke in cause of care, the less is thy annoy.  
Aloft if thou do live, as one appointed here,  
A stately part on stage of worldly state to bear:  
Thy friend as only free from fraud will thee advise,  
To rest within the rule of mean as do the wise.  
He seeketh to foresee the peril of thy fall.  
He findeth out thy faults and warns thee of them all.  
Thee, not thy luck he loves, what ever be thy case,  
He is thy faithful friend and thee he doth embrace.  
If churlish cheer of chance have thrown thee into thrall,  
And that thy need ask aid for to relieve thy fall:  
In him thou secret trust assured art to have,  
And secure not to seek, before that thou can crave.  
Thus is thy friend to thee the comfort of thy pain,  
The stayer of thy state, the doubler of thy gain.  
In wealth and woe thy friend, an other self to thee,  
Such man to man a God, the proverb saith to be.  
As wealth will bring thee friends in louring woe to prove,  
So woe shall yield thee friends in laughing wealth to love.  
With wisdom choose thy friend, with virtue him retain:  
Let virtue be the ground, so shall it not be vain.   

The lover lamenteth other to have the fruits of his service.  
SOme men would think of right to have,  
For their true meaning some reward,  
But while that I do cry and crave:  
I see that other be preferred,  
I gape for that I am debarred.  
I far as doth the hound at hatch:  
The worse I speed; the longer I watch.  
My wasteful will is tried by trust:  
My fond fancy is mine abuse.  
For that I would refrain my lust:  
For mine avail I cannot choose,  
A will, and yet no power to use.  
A will, no will by reason just,  
Sins my will is at others lust.  
They eat the honey, I hold the hive.  
I sow the seed, they reap the corn.  
I waste, they win, I draw they drive.  
Theirs is the thank, mine is the scorn.  
I seek, they speed, in waste my wind is worn,  
I gape, they get, and greedily I snatch:  
Till worse I speed, the longer I watch.  
I fast, they feed: they drink, I thirst.  
They laugh, I wail: they joy, I mourn.  
They gain, I lose: I have the worst.  
They whole, I sick: they cold, I burn.  
They leap, I lie: they sleep, I toss and turn.  
I would, they may: I crave, they have at will.  
That helpeth them, lo, cruelty doth me kill.   

Of the subtlety of crafty lovers.  
SUch wayward ways have some when folly stirs their brains  
To fain & plain full oft of love, when lest they feel his pains.  
And for to show a grief such craft have they in store,  
That they can halt and lay a salve whereas they feel no sore.  
As hound unto the foot, or dog unto the bow,  
So are they made to vent her out, whom bent to love they know.  
That if I should describe one hundred of their drifts,  
Two hundred wits beside mine own I should put to their shifts  
No woodman better knows how for to lodge his dear,  
Nor shipman on the sea that more hath skill to guide the steer.  
Nor beaten dog to herd can warer choose his game.  
Nor schoolman to his fancy can a scholar better frame.  
Then one of these which have old Ovid's art in ure,  
Can seek the ways unto their mind a woman to allure.  
As round about a hive the Bees do swarm always,  
So round about the house they press wherein they seek their prey.  
And whom they so besiege, it is a wondrous thing,  
What crafty engines to assault these wily warriors bring.  
The eye as scout and watch to stir both to and fro,  
Doth serve to stale her he●e & there where she doth come and go.  
The tongue doth plead for right as herald of the heart:  
And both the hands as orators do serve to point their part.  
So shows the countenance then with these four to agree,  
As though in witness with the rest, it would she sworn be.  
But if she than mistrust it would turn black to white,  
For that the woorrier looks most smooth when he would feignest bite.  
Then wit as counsellor a help for this to find:  
Strait makes the hand as secretair forthwith to write his mind.  
And so the letters strait ambassadors are made,  
To treat in haste for to procure her to a better trade.  
Wherein if she do think all this is but a show,  
Or but a subtle masking cloak to hide a crafty shrew:  
Then come they to the alarm, then show they in the field,  
Then muster they in colours strange, that ways to make her yield  
Then shoot they batry of, than compass they her in,  
At tilt and tourney oft they strive this selly soul to win.  
Then sound they on their lutes, then strain they forth their song.  
Then rumble they with instruments to lay her quite a long.  
Then board they her with gifts, then do they woe and watch.  
Then night and day they labour hard this simple hold to catch,  
As paths within a wood, or turns with in a maze:  
So than they show of wiles & crafts they can a thousand weigh'st   

Of the vanity of man's life.  
Vain is the fleeting wealth,  
Whereon the world stays:  
Scythe stalking time by privy stealth,  
Encroacheth on our days.  
And eld which creepeth fast,  
To taints us with her wound:  
Will turn each bliss unto a blast,  
Which lasteth but a stound.  
Of youth the lusty flower,  
Which whilom stood in price:  
Shall vanish quite within an hour,  
As fire consumes the ice.  
Where is become that wight,  
For whose sake Troy town:  
Withstood the greeks till ten years fight,  
Had razed their walls adown.  
Did not the worms consume,  
Her carrion to the dust?  
Did dreadful death forbear his fume  
For beauty, pride, or lust?   

The lover not regarded in earnest suit, being become wiser, refuseth her profred love.  
DO way your phisske I faint no more,  
The salve you sent it comes to late:  
You witted well all my grief before,  
And what I suffered for your sake.  
Hole is my heart I plain no more,  
A new the cure did undertake:  
Wherefore do way you come to late.  
For whiles you knew I was your own,  
So long in vain you made me gape,  
And though my faith it were well known,  
Yet small regard thou took thereat,  
But now the blast is overblown.  
Of vain physic a salve you shape,  
Wherefore do way you come to late.  
How long or this have I been feign,  
To gape for mercy at your gate,  
Until the time I sp●de it plain,  
That pity and you fell at debate.  
For my redress then was I feign:  
Your service clean for to forsake.  
Wherefore do way you come to late.  
For when I brent in endless fire,  
Who ruled then but cruel hate?  
So that uneath I durst desire  
One look, my fervent heat to slake.  
Therefore another doth me hire,  
And all the proffer that you make,  
Is made in vain and comes to late.  
For when I asked recompense,  
With cost you nought to grant God wat:  
Then said disdain to great expense,  
It were for you to grant me that.  
Therefore do way your rear pretence,  
That you would bind that derst you brake,  
For lo your salve comes all to late.   

The complaint of a woman ravished, and also mortally wounded.  
A Cruel Tiger all with teeth bebled,  
A bloody tyrants hand in each degree,  
A lecher that by wretched lust was led,  
(Alas) deflowered my virginity.  
And not contented with this villainy,  
Nor with thoutrageous terror of the deed,  
With bloody thirst of greater cruelty:  
Fearing his heinous gilt should be bewrayed,  
By crying death and vengeance openly,  
His violent hand forthwith alas he laid  
Upon my guilt●es silly child and me,  
And like the wretch whom no horror dismayed,  
drowned in the sink of deep iniquity:  
Misusing me the mother for a time,  
Hath slain us both for cloaking of his crime.   

The lover being made thrall by love, perceiveth how great a loss is liberty.  
AH liberty now have I learned to know,  
By lacking thee what jewel I possessed,  
When I received first from Cupid's bow  
The deadly wound that festreth in my breast.  
So far (alas) forth strayed were mine eyes,  
That I ne might refrain them back, for lo:  
They in a moment all earthly things despise,  
In heavenly sight now are they fixed so.  
What then for me but still with mazed sight,  
To wonder at that excellence divine:  
Where love (my freedom having in despite)  
Hath made me thrall through error of mine eyen.  
For other guerdon hope I not to have,  
My faltering tongue so basheth aught to crave.   

The divers and contrary passions of the lover.  
HOlding my peace alas how loud I cry,  
Pressed with hope and dread even both at ones,  
Strained with death, and yet I cannot die.  
Burning in flame, quaking for cold that groans,  
Unto my hope withouten wings I fly.  
Pressed with despair, that breaketh all my bones.  
Walking as if I were, and yet am not.  
Feigning with mirth, most inwardly with moans.  
Hard by my help, unto my health not nigh.  
Mids of the calm my ship on rock it rones.  
I serve unbound, fast fettered yet I lie.  
In stead of milk that feed on marble stones,  
My most will is that I do espy:  
That works my joys and sorrows both at ones.  
In contrairs standeth all my loss and gain:  
And lo the guiltless causeth all my pain.   

The testament of the hawthorn.  
I Sely Haw whose hope is past,  
In faithful true and fixed mind:  
To her whom that I served last,  
Have all my ioyefulnes resigned,  
Because I know assuredly,  
My dying day approacheth nigh.  
despaired heart the careful nest,  
Of all the sighs I kept in store:  
Convey my careful corpse to rest,  
That leaves his joy for evermore.  
And when the day of hope is past,  
give up thy spirit and sigh the last.  
But or that we depart in twain,  
Tell her I loved with all my might:  
That though the corpse in clay remain,  
Consumed to ashes pale and white.  
And though the vital powers do cease,  
The spirit shall love her natrelesse.  
And pray my lives lady dear,  
During this little time and space,  
That I have to abiden here,  
Not to withdraw her wont grace,  
In recompensing of the pain,  
That I shall have to part in twain.  
And that at least she will withsave,  
To grant my just and last request:  
When that she shall behold his grave,  
That lieth of life here dispossessed,  
In record that I once was hers,  
To bathe the frozen stone with tearest  
The service tree here do I make,  
For mine executor and my friend:  
That living did not me forsake,  
Nor will I trust unto my end,  
To see my body well conveyed,  
In ground where that it shallbe layden  
Tombed underneath a goodly Oak,  
With ivy green that fast is bound:  
There this my grave I have besp●ke,  
For there my lady's name do sou●d:  
Beset even as my testament tells:  
With oaken leaves and nothing else,  
graven whereon sha●be expressed,  
Here lieth the body in this place,  
Of him that living never cest  
To serve the fairest that ever was,  
The corpse is here, the heart he gave  
To her for whom he lieth in grave.  
And also set about my hersse,  
Two lamps to burn and not to quaint,  
Which shallbe token, and rehersse  
That my good will was never spent.  
When that my corpse was laid allow,  
My spirit did swear to serve no more.  
And if you want of ringing bells,  
When that my corpse goth into grave:  
repeat her name and nothing else,  
To whom that I was bounden slave.  
When that my life it shall unframe,  
My spirit shall joy to hear her name.  
With doleful note and piteous sound,  
Wherewith my heart did cleave in twain:  
With such a song lay me in ground,  
My spirit let it with her remain,  
That had the body to commend:  
Till death thereof did make an end.  
And even with my last bequest,  
When I shall from this life departed:  
I give to her I loved best,  
My just my true and faithful heart,  
Signed with the hand as cold as stone:  
Of him that living was her own.  
And if he here might live again,  
As Phoenix made by death anew:  
Of this she may assure her plain,  
That he will still be just and true.  
Thus farewell she on live my own.  
And send her joy when I am gone.   

The lover in despair lamenteth his case.  
A Dieu desert, how art thou spent?  
Ah dropping tears how do ye wash?  
Ah scalding sighs, how be ye spent?  
To prick them forth that will not haste,  
Ah pained heart thou gap'st for grace,  
Even there where pity hath no place.  
As easy it is the stony rock,  
From place to place for to remove,  
As by thy plaint for to provoke:  
A frozen heart from hate to love,  
What should I say such is thy lot,  
To fawn on them that force the not.  
Thus mayst thou safely say and swear,  
That rigour raighneth and ruth doth fail,  
In thankless thoughts thy thoughts do we●●  
Thy truth, thy faith, may nought avail,  
For thy good will why should thou so,  
Still graft where grace it will not grow.  
Alas poor heart thus hast thou spent,  
Thy flowering time, thy pleasant years.  
With sighing voice weep and lament:  
For of thy hope no fruit appears,  
Thy true meaning is paid with scorn,  
That ever soweth and repeth no corn.  
And where thou seeks a quiet port,  
Thou dost but weigh against the wind,  
For where thou gladdest wouldst resort,  
There is no place for thee assigned.  
Thy destiny hath set it so  
That thy true heart should cause thy wo.   

Of his mistress. m. B●  
IN Bays I boast whose branch I bear,  
Such joy therein I find:  
That to the death I shall it wear,  
To ease my careful mind.  
In heat, in cold, both night and day,  
Her virtue may be seen:  
When other fruits and flowers decays  
The bay yet grows full green.  
Her berries feed the birds full oft,  
Her leaves sweet water make:  
Her bows be set in every fit,  
For their sweet savours sake.  
The birds do shroud them from the cold,  
In her we daily see:  
And men make arbers as they would,  
Under the pleasant tree.  
It doth me good when I repair,  
There as these bays do grow:  
Where oft I walk to take the air,  
It doth delight me so●  
But lo I stand as I w●re doom,  
Her beauty fo: to blaze:  
Wherewith my sprites be overcome,  
So long thereon I gaze.  
At last I turn unto my walk,  
In passing to and fro:  
And to myself I smile and talk,  
And then away I go.  
Why smilest thou say lookers on,  
what pleasure hast thou found?  
With that I am as cold as stone,  
And ready for to swoon.  
Fie fie for shame saith fancy than,  
Pluck up thy fainted heart:  
And speak thou boldly like a man,  
Shrink not for little smart.  
Whereat I blush and change my cheer,  
My senses ware so w●ake:  
O god think I what make I here,  
That never a word may speak.  
I dare not sigh lest I be heard,  
My looks I slily cast:  
And still I stand as one were scared,  
Until my storms be past.  
Then happy hap doth me revive,  
The blood comes to my face:  
A merrier man is not alive,  
Then I am in that case.  
Thus after sorrow seek I rest,  
When fled is fancies fit.  
And though I be a homely gest,  
Before the bays I sit●  
Where I do watch till leaves do fall,  
When wind the tree doth shake:  
Then though my branch be very small,  
My leaf away I take.  
And then I go and clap my hands,  
My heart doth leap for joy.  
These bays do ease me from my bands,  
That long did me annoy:  
For when I do behold the same,  
Which makes so fair a show:  
I find therein my mistress name,  
And see her virtues grow.   

The lover complaineth his hearty love not requited.  
WHen Phoebus had the serpent slain,  
He claimed Cupid's boe:  
which strife did turn him to great pain,  
The story well doth prove.  
For Cupid made him feel much woe,  
In seeking Dephnes' love.  
This Cupid hath a shaft of kind,  
Which wounded many a wight:  
Whose golden head had power to bind,  
Each heart in Venus' bands.  
This arrow did on Phoebus' light,  
Which came from Cupid's hands.  
another shast was wrought in spite●  
Which headed was with lead:  
Whose nature quenched sweet delight,  
That lovers most embrace.  
In Dephnes' breast this cruel head,  
Had found a dwelling place.  
But Phoebus' fond of his desire,  
Sought after Dephnes' so:  
He burned with heat, she felt no fire,  
Full fast she fled him fro.  
He gate but hate for his good will,  
The gods assigned so.  
My case with Phoebus may compare,  
His hap and mine are one,  
I cry to her that knows no ear,  
Yet seek I to her most:  
When I approach then is she gone,  
Thus is my labour lost.  
Now blame not me but blame the shaft,  
That hath the golden head,  
And blame those gods that with their craft  
Such arrows forge by kind.  
And blame the cold and heavy lead,  
That doth my lady's mind.   

A praise of m. M.  
IN court as I beheld, the beauty of each dame,  
Of right my thought from all the rest should. M. steal the same●  
But, ere I meant to judge: I viewed with such advise.  
As reckless doom should not invade: the bounds of my devise,  
And, whiles I gazed long: such heat did breed within,  
As Priamus' town felt not more flame, when did the bale begin.  
By reason's rule ne yet by wit perceive I could,  
That. M, face of earth yfound: enjoy such beauty should.  
And fancy doubted that from heaven had Venus come,  
To nourish rage in britains hearts, while courage yet doth bloom,  
Her native hue so strove, with colour of the rose,  
That Paris would have Helen left, and. M. beauty chose.  
A wight far passing all, and is more fair to seem,  
Then lusty May the lodge of love: that clothes the earth in grene●  
So angel like she shines: she seemeth no mortal wight,  
But one whom nature in her forge, did frame herself to spite.  
Of beauty princess chief: so makeless doth she rest,  
Whose eye would glad an heavy wight: and prison pain in breast,  
I wax astonished to see: the seator of her shape,  
And wondered that a mortal heart: such heavenly beams could scape  
Her limbs so answering were: the mould of her fair face,  
Of Venus' stock she seemed to spring, the rote of beauty's grace.  
Her presence doth pretend: such honour and estate,  
That simple men might guess her birth: if folly bred debate.  
Her looks in hearts of flint: would such affects imprese,  
As rage's of flame not Nilus' streams: in Nestor's years increase.  
Within the subtle seat, of her bright eyen doth dwell,  
Blind Cupid with the prick of pain: that prince's freedom sell.  
A Paradise it is: her beauty to behold,  
where nature's stuff so full is found, that nature's ware is sold●   

An old lover to a young gentlewoman.  
YE are to young to bring me in,  
And I to old to gape for flies:  
I have to long a lover been,  
If such young babes should blear mine eyes,  
But trill the ball before my face,  
I am content to make you play:  
I will not see, I hide my face,  
And turn my back and run away.  
But if you follow on so fast,  
And cross the ways where I should go,  
Ye may wax weary at the last,  
And then at length yourself o'erthrow.  
I mean where you and all your flock,  
devise to pen men in the pound:  
I know a key can pick your lock,  
And make you run yourselves on ground,  
Some birds can eat the strawie corn,  
And flee the lime that fowlers set,  
And some are feared of every thorn,  
And so thereby they scape the net.  
But some do light and never look,  
And seeth not who doth stand in wait,  
As fish that swallow up the hook,  
And is beguiled through the bait.  
But men can look before they leap,  
And be at price for every ware,  
And pennyworths cast to buy good cheap,  
And in each thing hath eye and ●are.  
But he that bluntly runs on head,  
And seeth not what the race shall be:  
Is like to bring a fool to bed,  
And thus ye get no more of me.   

The lover forsaketh his unkind love.  
FArewell thou frozen heart and ears of hardened steel,  
Thou lackest years to understand the grief that I did feel,  
The gods revenge my wrong, with equal plague on thee,  
When pleasure shall prick forth thy youth, to learn what love shalbe●  
Perchance thou provest now, to scale blind Cupid's hold,  
And matchest where thou mayst repent, when all thy cards are told  
But blush not thou therefore, thy betters have done so,  
Who thought they had retained a dove, when they but caught a cro  
And some do longer time, with lofty looks we see,  
That lights at length as low or worse than doth the beetle be.  
Yet let thy hope be good, such hap may fall from high:  
That thou mayst be if fortune serve, a princess ere thou die.  
Is chance prefer thee so, alas poor silly man,  
where shall I scape thy cruel hands, or seek for succour than?  
God should such greedy wolves, should lap in guiltless blood,  
And send short horns to hurtful heads, the rage like lions wood.  
I seldom see the day, but malice wanteth might,  
And hateful hearts have never hap, to wreak their wrath aright.  
The madman is unmeet, a naked sword to guide,  
And more unfit are they to climb, that are o'ercome with pride.  
I touch not thee herein, thou art a falcon sure,  
That can both soer and stoop sometime, as men cast up the lure.  
The peacock hath no place, in thee when thou shalt list,  
For some no sooner make a sign, but thou percevest the fist.  
They have that I do want, and that doth thee beguiled,  
The lac● that thou dost see in me, doth make thee look so wild.  
My luring is not good● it liketh not thine ear,  
My call it is not half so sweet, as would to god it were.  
well wanton yet beware, thou do no●t●ryng take,  
At every hand that would thee feed, or to thee friendship make,  
This council take of him that ought thee once his love,  
Who hopes to meet thee after this among the saints above,  
But here within this world, if he may shun the place,  
He rather asketh present death, then to behold thy face.   

The lover preferreth his lady above all other.  
Resign you dames whom tikeling brute delight,  
The golden praise that flatteries tromp doth sown●  
And vassals be to her that claims by right,  
The title just that first dame beauty found.  
Whose dainty eyes such sugared baits do hide,  
As poison hearts where glims of love do glide.  
Come eke and see how heaven and nature wrought,  
Within her face where framed is such joy:  
As Priam's sons in vain the seas had sought.  
If half such light had had abode in Troy.  
For as the golden sun doth dark each star,  
So doth her hue the fairest dames as far.  
Each heavenly gift, each grace that nature could,  
By art or wit my lady lo retains:  
A sacred head, so heaped with h●●res of gold,  
As Phoebus' beams for beauty far it stayns,  
A sucred tongue, where eke such sweetness snows,  
That well it seems a fountain where it flows.  
Two laughing eyes so linked with pleasing looks,  
As would entice a tigers heart to serve:  
The bait is sweet but eager be the hooks,  
For diane seeks her honour to preserve.  
Thus Arundel sits, throned still with fame,  
Whom enemies trump can not attaint with shame.  
My dazed head so daunted is with heaps,  
Of gifts divine that harbour in her bre●t:  
Her heavenly shap●, that lo my verses leap●.  
And touch but that wherein she clouds the rest.  
For if I should her graces all recite.  
Both time should want, and I should wonders write.  
Her cheer so sweet, so crystal is her eyes,  
Her mouth so small, her lips to lively red:  
Her hand so fine, her words so sweet and wise,  
That Pallas sem●s to sojourn in her head.  
Her virtues great her form as far●e exceeds,  
As sun the shade that mortal creatures leads.  
Would God that wretched age would spare to race,  
Her lively hue that as her grace's ra●e:  
Be goddess like, even so her goddess face,  
Might never change but still continue fair  
That eke in after time each wight may see,  
How virtue can with beauty bear degree.   

The lover lamenteth that he would forget love, and can not.  
ALas when shall I joy,  
When shall my woeful heart,  
Cast forth the foolish toy  
That breadeth all my smart.  
A thousand times and more,  
I have attempted sore:  
To rid this restless woe,  
Which reigneth more and more.  
But when remembrance past,  
Hath laid dead coals together:  
Did love renews his blast,  
That cause my joys to whither.  
Then suddenly a spark,  
Starts out of my desire:  
And leaps into my heart,  
Setting the coals a fire.  
Then reason runs about,  
To seek forgetful water:  
To quench and clean put out,  
The cause of all this matter.  
And saith dead flesh must needs,  
Be cut out of the core,  
For rotten withered weeds,  
Can heal no grievous sore.  
But then even suddenly,  
The fervent heat doth slake:  
And cold then straineth me,  
That makes my bodies shake.  
Alas who can endure,  
To suffer all this pain,  
Sins her that should me cure,  
Most cruel death hath slain.  
Well well, I say no more,  
Let dead care for the dead,  
Yet woe is me therefore,  
I must attempt to lead.  
One other kind of life,  
Then hitherto I have:  
Or else this pain and strife,  
Will bring me to my grave.   

¶ Songs written by N. G. Of the ix. Muses.  
I M●s of king jove, and queen Remembrance lo,  
The sisters nine, the poets pleasant feres.  
Calliope doth stately style bestow,  
And worthy praises paints of princely peers.  
Clio in solem songs reneweth all day,  
With present years conjoining age bypassed.  
delightful talk loves Comical Thalsy:  
In fresh green youth, who doth like laurel last.  
With voices Tragical sounds Melpomen,  
And, as with cheins, thall●red ear she binds.  
Her strings when Terpsichor doth touch, even than  
She toucheth hearts, and reigneth in men's minds,  
Fine Erato, whose look a lively cheer  
Presents, in dancing keeps a comely grace.  
With seemly gesture doth Polymnie steer:  
Whose words holle routs of ranks do rule in place,  
Uranie, her globes to view all bent,  
The ninefold heaven observes with fixed face.  
The blasts Eutrepe tunes of instrument,  
With solace sweet hence heavy dumps to chase.  
Lord Phoebus in the mids (whose heavenly spirit  
These ladies doth inspire) embraceth all.  
The graces in the Muse's weed, delight  
To lead them forth, that men in maze they fall.   

Musonius the Philosopher's saying.  
IN working well, if travel you sustain:  
Into the wind shall lightly pass the pain:  
But of the deed the glory shall remain,  
And cause your name with worthy wights to reign.  
In working wrong, if pleasure you attain:  
The pleasure soon shall vade, and void, as vain:  
But of the deed, throughout the life, the shame  
Endures, defacing you with fowl defame:  
And still torments the mind, both night and day●  
Scant length of time the spot can wash away.  
Flee then ylswading pleasures baits untrue:  
And noble virtues fair renown purseew.   

Description of Virtue.  
WHat one art thou, thus in torn weed clad?  
Virtue, in price whom ancient sages had.  
why, poorly raid? For fading goods past care.  
Why doublefaced? I mark each fortunes far.  
This bridle, what? Minds rages to restrain.  
Tools why bear you? I love to take great pain●  
Why, wings? I teach above the stars to fly.  
Why tread you death? I only cannot dye●   

Praise of measure-keping.  
THe ancient time commended, not for nought,  
The mean: what better thing can there be sought?  
In mean, is virtue placed: on either side,  
Both right, and left, amiss a man shall slide●  
Icar, with sire hadst thou the mid way flown,  
Icarian beck by name had no man known.  
If middle path kept had proud Phaeton,  
No burning brand this earth had fa●●ne upon.  
N● cruel power, ne none to soft can reign:  
That keeps a mean, the same shall still remain.  
Thee, julie, once did too much mercy spill:  
Thee, Nero stern, rigour extreem did kill.  
How could August so many years well pass?  
Nor overmeek, nor overferse he was.  
Worship not jove with curious fancies vain,  
Nor him despise: hold right atweens these twain.  
No wasteful wight, no greedy goom is prayzd.  
Stands largesse just, in equal balance payzd.  
So Cato's meal, surmounts Antonius' cheer,  
And better fame his sober fare hath her●.  
To slender building, bad: as bad, to gross:  
One, an eyesore, the t'other falls to loss.  
As medicines help, in measure: so (God wots)  
By overmuch, the sick their bane have got.  
Unmeet me seems to utter this, more ways:  
Measure forbids unmeasurable praise.   

Man's life after Possidonius, or Crates.  
WHat path list you to tread? what trade will you assay?  
The courts of plea, by brawl, & bate, drive gentle peace aways  
In house, for wife, and child, there is but cark and care:  
With travail, and with toil enough, in fields we use to far.  
Upon the seas lieth dread: the rich in foreign land,  
Do fear the loss: and there, the poor, like misers poorly stands  
Strife, with a wife, without, your thrift full hard to see:  
Young brats, a trouble: none at all● a maim it seems to be:  
Youth, fond, age hath no heart, and pincheth all to nigh.  
Choose then the leeser of these two, no life, or soon to die.   

Metrodorus mind to the contrary.  
WHat race of life run you? what trade will you assays  
In courts, is glory got, and wit increased day by day.  
At home, we take our ease, and beak ourselves in rest:  
The fields our nature do refresh with pleasures of the best●  
On seas, is gain to get: the stranger, he shall be  
Esteemed: having much: if not, none knoweth his lack, but hee●  
A wife will trim thy house: no wife? then art thou free.  
Brood is a lovely thing: without, thy life is lose to thee.  
●ong bloods be strong: old sires in double honour dwell.  
D●way that choice, no life, or soon to die: for all is well.   

Of friendship.  
OF all the heavenly gifts, that mortal men commend,  
What trusty treasure in the world can countervail a friend?  
Our health is soon decayed: goods, casual, light, and vain:  
Broke have we seen the force of power, and honour suffer stain●  
In body's lust, man doth resemble but base brute:  
True virtue gets, and keeps a friend, good guide of our pursuit:  
Whose hearty zeal with ours accords, in every case:  
No term of time, no space of place, no storm can it deface.  
When fickle fortune fails, this knot endureth still:  
Thy kin out of their kind may serve, when friends own the good will●  
What sweeter solace shall befall, than one to find,  
Upon whose breast thou mayst repose the secrets of thy mind?  
He waileth at thy woe, his tears with thine be shed:  
With thee doth he all joys enjoy: so leef a life is led.  
Behold thy friend, and of thyself the pattern see:  
One soul, a wonder shall it seem, in bodies twain to be.  
In absence, present, rich in want, in sickness sound,  
Yea after death alive, mayst thou by thy sure friend be found.  
Each house, each town, each realm by steadfast love doth stand:  
Where fowl debate breeds bitter bale, in each divided land.  
O friendship, flower of flowers: O lively spirit of life,  
O sacred bond of blissful peace, the stalworth staunch of strife:  
Scipio with Lelius didst thou conjoin in care,  
At home, in wars, for weal and woe, with equal faith to far.  
Gesippus eke with Tite, Damon with Pythias,  
And with M●netus son Achilles, by thee combined was.  
Euryalus, and Nisus gave Virgil cause to sing:  
Of pylades do many rhymes, and of Orestes ring.  
Down Thes●us went to hell, Pirith, his friend to find:  
O that the wives, in these our days, were to their mates so kinde●  
Cicero● the friendly man, to Atticus● his friend,  
Of friendship wrote: such couples lo doth lot but seldom lend.  
Recount thy race, no● run: how few shalt thou there see,  
Of whom to say: This same is he, that never failed me.  
So rare a jewel than must needs be holden dear:  
And as thou wilt esteem thyself, so take thy chosen fere●  
The tyrant, in despair, no lack of gold bewails.  
But, Out I am undone (saith he () for all my friendship fails.  
Wherefore sins nothing is more kindly for our kind:  
Next wisdom thus that teacheth us, love we the frendful mind.   

The death of Zoroas, an Egyptian Astronomer, in the first fight, that Alexander had with the Persians.  
NOw clattering arms, now raging broils of war,  
Gan●●●●e the 'noys of dreadful trumpets clang:  
Shrouded with shafts, the heaven: with cloud of darts,  
Covered the air: against full fatted bulls,  
As forceth kindled ire the lions keen:  
whose greedy guts the gnawing hunger pricks:  
So Macedoins against the Persians far.  
Now corpses hide the purpurde soil with blood:  
Large slaughter, on each side: but Perses more  
Moist fields be bled: their hearts, and numbers bate.  
Fainted while they give back, and fall to flight:  
The lightning Macedon, by swords, by gleaus,  
By bands and trowps, of footmen with his guard,  
Speeds to Darie: but him, his nearest kin,  
Oxate preserves, with horsemen on a plump  
Before his carr: that none the charge could give.  
Here grunts, here groans, each where strong youth is spent:  
Shaking her bloody hands, Bellona, among  
The Perses, soweth all kind of cruel death.  
with thro●e ycutt, he roores: he lieth along,  
His entrails with a lance through girded quite:  
Him smites the club, him wounds farstriking bow,  
And him the sling, and him the shining sword:  
He dieth, he is all dead, he pants, he rests.  
Right overstood, in snowwhite armour brave,  
The Memphite Zor●as, a cunning clerk:  
To whom the heaven lay open, as his book:  
And in celestial bodies he could tell  
The moving, meeting, light, aspect, eclipse,  
And influence, and constellations all:  
What earthly chances would betide: what year  
Of plenty, stored, what sign forewarned dearth:  
How winter gendereth snow, what temperature  
In the primetide doth season well the soil:  
Why summer burns, why autumn hath ripe grapes:  
Whether the circle, quadrate may become:  
Whether our times heavens harmony can yield:  
Of four gins, among themselves how great  
Proportion is: what sway the erring lights  
Doth send in course gain that first moving heaven:  
What grease, one from another distant be:  
what star doth let the hurtful sire to rage,  
Or him more mild what opposition makes:  
What fire doth qualify Mavorses fire:  
what house each one doth seek: what planet reigns  
Within this hemisphere, or that, small things  
I speak, whole heaven he closeth in his breast.  
This sage then, in the stars had spied: the fates  
Threatened him death, without delay: and sith  
He saw, he could not fatal order change:  
Forward he priest, in battle that he might  
Meet with the ruler of the Macedoins:  
Of his right hand desirous to be slain,  
The boldest beurn, and worthiest in the field:  
And, as a wight ●ow weary of his life,  
And seeking death: in first front of his rage,  
Comes desperately to Alexander's face:  
At him, with darts, one after other throws:  
With reckless words, and clamour him provokes:  
And saith, Nectanabs' bastard, shameful stain  
Of mother's bed: why losest thou thy strokes,  
Cowards among? Turn thee to me, in case  
Manhood there be so much left in thy heart:  
Come fight with me: that on my helmet wear  
Apollo's laurel, both for learning's laud,  
And eke for martial praise: that, in my shield,  
The sevenfold sophy of Minerva contain:  
A match, more meet, sir king, than any here.  
The noble prince amoved, takes ruth upon  
The wilful wight: and with soft words, again,  
O monstrous man (quoth he) what so thou art,  
I pray thee, live: ne do not, with thy death,  
This lodge of lore, the Muse's mansion mar.  
That treasure house this hand shall never spoil:  
My sword shall never bruise that skilful brain,  
Long gathered heaps of science soon to spill.  
O, how fair fruits may you to mortal men  
From wisdoms garden give? How many may  
By you the wiser and the better prove?  
what error, what mad mood, what frenzy thee  
Persuades to be down sent to deep Avernus:  
Where no arts flourish, nor no knowledge vails?  
For all these saws, when thus the sovereign said,  
Alighted Zoroas: with sword unsheathed,  
The careless king there smote, above the grieve,  
At th'openyng of his quishes: wounded him  
So that the blood down reyled on the ground.  
The Macedon perceiving hurt, 'gan gnash:  
But yet his mind he bent, in any wise,  
Him to forbear: set spurs unto his st●de,  
And turned away: lest anger of his smart  
Should cause revenger hand deal baleful blows.  
But of the Macedonian chieftains knights  
One Meleager, could not bear this sight:  
But ran upon the said Egyptian reuk:  
And cut him in both knees: he fell to ground:  
Wherewith a whole rout came of soldiers stern,  
And all in pieces hewed the silly seg.  
But happily the soul fled to the starred:  
Where under him, he hath full sight of all,  
Whereat he gazed here, with reaching look.  
The Persians wailed such sapience to forego:  
The very fone, the Macedonians wished.  
He wo●ld have lived: king Alexander self  
Deemed him a man, unmeet to die at all:  
Who won like praise, for conquest of his ire,  
As for stout men in field that day subdued:  
Who princes taught, how to discern a man,  
That in his head so rare a jewel bears.  
But over all, those same Camenes, those same  
Divine Camenes, whose honour he procured,  
As tender parent doth his daughter's weal:  
Lamented: and for thanks all that they can,  
Do cherish'him deceased, and set him free,  
From dark oblivion of devouring death.   

Marcus Tullius Cicero's death.  
Therefore, when restless rage of wind, and wave  
He saw: By fates, alas called for (quoth he)  
Is hapless Cicero: sail on, shape course  
To the next shore, and bring me to my death.  
pardie these thanks, rescued from civil sword,  
Wilt thou my country pay? I see mine end:  
So powers divine, so bid the gods above,  
In city saved that Consul Marcus shend.  
Speaking no more, but drawing from deep heart  
Great groans, even at the name of Rome rehearsed:  
His eyes and cheeks, with showers of tears, he washed,  
And (though a rout in daily dangers worn)  
With forced face, the shipmen held their tears:  
And, striving long the seas rough● floods to pass,  
In angry winds, and stormy showers made way:  
And at the last, safe anchored in the road.  
Came heavy Cicero a land: with pain,  
His fainted limbs the aged sire doth draw:  
And, round about their master stood his band:  
Nor greatly with their own hard hap dismayed,  
Nor plighted faith, prove in sharp time to break:  
Some sword prepare: some their dear lord assist:  
In litter laid, they lead him uncouth ways:  
If so deceive Antonius cruel glaives  
They might, and threats of following routs escape.  
Thus lo, that Tully, went, that Tullius,  
Of royal rob, and sacred senate prince:  
When he a far the men approach espieth,  
And of his ●one the ensigns doth aknow:  
And, with drawn sword, Popilius threatening death:  
Whose life, and holl estate, in hazard once,  
He had preserved: when Room as yet to free  
Herd him, and at his thundering voice amazed.  
Herennius eek, more eyger than the rest,  
Present inflame with fury, him purseews.  
What might he do? Should he use in defence  
Disarmed hands ●or pardon ask, for meed?  
Should he with words attempt to turn the wrath  
Of tharmed knight, whose safeguard he had wrought?  
No, age, forbids, and fixed within deep breast  
His countries love, and falling Rome's image.  
The charet turn, saith he, let loose the reins:  
Roon to the undeserved death: me, lo,  
Hath Phoebus' fowl, as messenger forewarned:  
And jove desires a neew heavensman to make.  
Brutus, and Cassius souls, live you in bliss:  
In case yet all the fates gaynstrive us not,  
Neither shall we perchance die unrevenged.  
Now have I lived, O Room, enough for me:  
My passed life nought suffereth me to doubt  
Noisome oblivion of the loathsome death.  
Slay me: yet all the offspring to come shall know:  
And this deceas shall bring eternal life.  
Yea, and (unless I fail, and all in vain  
Room, I soomtime thy Augur chosen was)  
Not evermore shall friendly fortune thee  
Favour, Antonius: once the day shall coom:  
When her dear wights, by cruel spite, thus slain,  
Uictorious Room shall at thy hands require.  
Me likes, therewhile, go see the hoped heaven.  
Speech had he left: and therewith he, good man,  
His throat prepared, and held his head vnmoued●  
His hasting to those fates the very knights  
Be loath to see: and, rage rebated, when  
They his bare neck beheld, and his horeheyres:  
Scant could they hold the tears, that forth 'gan burst  
And almost fell from bloody hands the swords.  
Only the stern Herennius, with grim look,  
Dastards, why stand you still? he saith: and strait,  
Swaps of the head, with his presumptuous iron.  
Ne with that slaughter yet is he not filled:  
Fowl shame on shame to heap, is his delight.  
Wherefore the hands also doth he of smite,  
Which durst Antonius life so lively paint.  
Him, yielding strained ghost, from welkin high.  
With lothy cheer, lord Phoebus 'gan behold:  
And in black cloud, they say, long hid his head.  
The latin● Muses, and the Gray's, they wept:  
And, for his fall, eternally shall weep.  
And lo, hertpersing Pitho (strange to tell)  
Who had to him sufficed both sense, and words,  
When so he spoke: and dressed, with nectar soot,  
That flowing tongue: when his windpipe disclosed,  
Fled with her fleeing friend: and (out alas)  
Hath left the earth, ne will no more return.  
Popilius flieth, therewhile: and, leaving there  
The senseless stock, a grizely sight doth bear  
Unto Antonius' board, with mischief fed.   

Of M. T. Gicero.  
FOr Tully, late, a tomb I 'gan prepare:  
When Cynthie, thus, bade me my labour spare:  
Such manner things becoom the dead, quoth he:  
But Tully lives, and still alive shall be.  N. G.   


A  
ALas so all things now. 5  
Although I had a check 10  
As oft as I behold 12  
Auising the bright 22  
Alas madam for steling. 23  
Accused though I be. 29  
All in thy look my life 34  
A face that should content. 35  
A lady gave me a gift 42  
A spending hand 47  
Alas that ever death. 62  
A student at his book 64  
As cypress tree. 74  
Among dame natures. 77  
All ye that friendship 78  
As I have been so will 79  
At liberty I sit and see 80  
As laurel leaves. 83  
A kind of coal is. 97  
A man may live thrice 100  
Ah love how wayward 102  
A cruel Tiger. 107  
Ah liberty now have I 107  
Adieu desert, how art 108  
Alas when shall I joy 112   

B  
Brittle beauty that 5  
Because I still kept 21  
Behold love thy power. 28  
By fortune as I lay 55  
Behold my picture 70  
Bewail with me 70   

C  
CEsar when that the. 21  
Cruel unkind. 74  
Complain we may. 96   

D  
divers thy death. 16  
Disdain me not. 31  
Desire alas my master 41  
Driven by desire I did. 44  
Death and the king. 78  
Do all your deeds by 97  
Do way your physic. 106   

E  
Each beast can choose 14  
Each man me telleth 21  
Ever my hap is slack. 36  
Experience now doth 67  
Each thing I see hath 69   

F  
FRom Tuscan came. 5  
Farewell the heart of 24  
From these high hills 25  
For want of will in wo. 31  
Farewell love. 37  
For shamefast harm. 43  
Full fair and white she is 61  
For that a restless head 69  
Flee from the press. 82  
For love Apollo. 8●  
False may he be. 83  
From worldly woe 99  
Farewell thou frozen heart 111  
For Tully late. 117   

G  
GOod ladies ye that. 9  
give place ye lovers 10  
Girt in my guiltless gown 13  
Go burning sighs. 38  
give place ye ladies 67   

H  
HE is not dead that. 29  
How oft have I● 36  
Holding my peace. 107   

I  
IN Cyprus springs 5  
I never saw my L. lay 6  
In winter's just return. 8  
If care do cause men cry 15  
In the rude age. 17  
If waker car●. 20  
I find no peace. 21  
It may be good. 23  
In faith I wot not. 24  
If ever man might him 32  
If amorous faith. 36  
It burneth yet alas. 40  
I see that chance hath 41  
If thou wilt mighty be. 43  
In court to serve. 44  
In doubtful breast. 45  
If ever woeful man. 50  
If right be racked. 51  
In Grece sometime 52  
It is no fire. 62  
I lent my love to loss. 64  
In seeking rest, 66  
I see there is no sort. 71  
I loath that I did love. 72  
If it were so that God 75  
In freedom was my fantasy 76  
I read how Bacchanalss 81  
I heard when fame. 84  
I ne can close in short. 85  
It was the day on which 90  
I that Ulysses years. 9●  
If that thy wicked wife 99  
I would I found not. 104  
I s●●ly Haw. 107  
In bays I boast. 109  
In court as I beheld. 110  
Imps of king Io●● 113  
In working well. 113   

L  
Love 〈◊〉 liveth 4  
Lay●●n my quiet bed. 18  
Lux, my fair falcon. 35  
Love, ●ortune, & my mind. 36  
Like unto these unmesu. 36  
Like as the bird with 43  
Like as the Lark. 52  
Lo here the end of man. 56  
Like as the brake. 78  
Like as the rage of rain. 80  
Like the Phoenix a bird 88  
Lo ded he lives. 89  
Lo here lieth G. 98   

M  
MArtial, the things. 16  
My Ratclif, when 18  
My galley charged. 22  
Madam withouten 23  
Mine old dear enemy. 25  
Marvel no'more although. 27  
My love to scorn. 29  
My lute awake. 33  
My heart I gave thee. 37  
Mistrustful minds 40  
My mother's maids 45  
Mine own I. Poins. 46  
My youthful years 70   

N  
NAture that gave the be 34  
Nature that taught 68  
Not like a God came 95  
No joy have I. 104  
Now clattering arms. 115   

O  
O Happy dames that may 8  
O loathsome place where 11  
Of thy life, Thomas. 16  
Ones, as me thought, 33  
Of purpose love chose 41  
Of Carthage he 44  
O evil tongues. 54  
O temerous tauntresse. 74  
O Petrarke head, 74  
O lingering make. 89  
Of all the heavenly gifts 114   

P  
Pass forth my wont 30  
Perdie I said it not. 35  
Philida was a fair maid 55  
Procrin that sometime ●7   

R  
RIght true it is. 23  
Resound my voice. 24  
Resign ye dames. 112   

S  
SUch wayward ways 3  
So cruel prison 6  
Set me whereas the sun. 6  
Sins● fortunes wrath. 13  
Such vain thought as 20  
Some fowls there be. 21  
She sat and sowed. 28  
Sometime I fled the fire. 29  
Such is the course. 33  
So feeble is the thread 38  
Sufficed not, madame. 39  
Since love will needs 40  
Speak thou and speed. 42  
Sighs are my speed 44  
Stand who so list. 44  
scythe singing gladdeth 58  
Shall I thus ever long. 62  
scythe that the way to 63  
Sins thou my ring. 69  
Such green to me. 79  
Sins Mars first moved 82  
Stay gentle ●rend. 99  
Some men would think. 105  
Such wayward ways. 105   

T  
THe sun hath twice 2  
The soot season that 2  
The golden gift. 6  
To dearly had I bought. 11  
Though I regarded not 12  
The great Macedon. 16  
Thassyrian king. 17  
The fancy which that I 18  
The storms are past. 18  
The lively sparks 19  
They flee from me. 22  
The wandering gadling 23  
The restful place, renewer 25  
The furious gone. 29  
The answer that ye made. 32  
The enemy of life. 33  
The flaming sighs that 37  
The pillar perished is 37  
Throughout the world 44  
Tagus farewell. 44  
The life is long. 51  
The longer life the more 53  
To this my song give ear 53  
The plague is great. 54  
The restless rage of 54  
The doubtful man hath 63  
The winter with his 65  
Thestilis a silly man 67  
Thestilis thou silly man 68  
To live to die. 73  
The smoky sighs. 73  
The shining season. 74  
To leave alas, who would 75  
To my mishap alas 77  
The golden apple. 79  
The coward oft. 79  
Though in the wax. 79  
The doleful bell. 82  
The sucking fame. 86  
The souls that lacked 88  
The sun when he hath 90  
The secret flame that 93  
The bird that sometime, 9●  
Thou Cupid Go● 95  
●he ●●●tue of Ulysses 100  
To false● eport 100  
To walk on doubtful 101  
●●●●ust the feigned face 102  
〈◊〉 ●●●inded boy. 103  
〈◊〉 ●isest way, thy boat 104  
The ancient time come. 113  
Therefore when restless. 116  
The long love that in my   

V  
Unstable dream. 20  
unwarely so was 34  
venomous thorns 42  
Vulcan begat me. 43  
Unto the living Lord. 57  
Uain is the fleeting wealth 106   

W  
WHen youth had led me 3  
When ●omer took in 4  
When Windsor walls. 5  
When raging love. 7  
Wrapped in my careless 13  
Wyatt rests here. 16  
Was never ●ile. 19  
What needs these threat. 23  
Where shall I have. 27  
What man hath heard 28  
What vaileth troth. 29  
Within my breast I never 30  
When first mine eyes 39  
What rage is this 41  
What word is that 42  
When Dido feasted first 49  
Who justly may rejoice 51  
Who list to live upright 57  
What thing is that 62  
Who craftily casts to steer 64  
When dreadful swelling 65  
When Audley had run 69  
When Cupid sealed 7●  
With petrarch to compare. 74  
Why fearest thou thy 85  
Who loves to live in peace 86  
Walking the path. 87  
What harder is then stone 89  
Who list to lead a quiet 97  
Whom fancy forced 100  
Whoso that wisely weighs 104  
when Phoebus had 110  
What one art thou 113  
What path list you to 114  
What race of life run you 114   

in  
YEt was I never of 19  
Ye that in love find 20  
Your looks so often 30  
Yet ones again my Muse 85  
Ye that in play peruse 89  
Your borrowed mean● 98  
You are to young. 1ST   
FINIS.   

Imprinted at London in fleet street within Temple bar, at the sign of the hand and star, by Richard tottel the xxxi day of july. An. 1557.  
Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum.