THE MAIDEN QUEEN Entitled The Britain shepherds tears for the death of Astrabomica. Augmented the worlds vanity. Both in sentential verse, necessary and profitable to be read of all Men. 1607. Sola Virtus expers Sepulchri. portrait of Queen Elizabeth I Imprinted at London by I.W. for john Browne and are to be sold at his shop in Saint Dunston's Churchyard in Fleetstreet: To the right worshipful and virtuous Lady Katherine wife unto the worthy sir George Morton Knight. RAre chrysolite of virtues treasury, Within whose looks rarities do dance, In living Coral and pure Yourie, enameling your modest countenance, Whose holy life like Angels attomies, Make strangers give you tributary praise, Adamaske blush which by no dieing dies But springs when death Life's prenticeship decays. In steed of silver Vallance let me draw Your favours heavenly in Diapor On these complaints of Astrabonica, Ambrosian Lady if you grant it her My Muse shall make your worship longer known, Then Nymphs or Charactries on marble stone Your worships to command Henry Raymonde. In Zoilum. WHen Pan with great Apollo did contend, For glory of sweet touch, and accent pure, The Phrygian King as judge the strife to end, To rural Pan the Laurel did assure Phoebus offended with his unjust doom, Gave Asses ears to such as claimed his room. Then judge on Zoilus boldly, for to you The Ass' ears, his head and all are due. Pascitur in vivis livor, post fata quiescit. The Britain shepherds tears for the death of Astrabonica in sentential Verse. Canto I. WHen Ruby spring in primrose weed, Bespanged fresh lovers season, The Virgin Queen, of heavenly seed, By virtue soul and reason. Mox cetam ad superos moritu ra Astraa reces sit Iwen. Audacious fate declined, suppressed, And England's joy deprived, This Orient Coral, Nature's best, Whom death again revived. In heaven, fame, and Cinders, she Igne suo Vitam dum raspit, igne capit phoenica, etc. preper surviving, absent, flieth, And dead, sequestered lives in three, And, as the Phoenix dieth. Envy, I laugh thy worst to scorn, Thy smiles, with murders under: The glories which by her were borne, Shall kill with double wonder. Her spirit rich in saints designs, Eagle-eide wisdom teaching, Higher than Hyperion shines, Her contemplations reaching. Ruling with meekness and reward, Goddess of virtues garden, Most Godlike she was here prepared, To conquer vice with pardon. And when pale death did her convince, King james in virtue shining Succeeds, and now that noble Prince, Supports us from declining. Which sacred states by fate disjoinde, The living reigns for ever. The dead is unto fame combined, And either times outliver. Cant. II. Aurora weep thou pearly mhirre Distill each incensorie grove True shepherds tears to shed on her That was the azure heavens love, Thou juniper and Sicomere, Deplore you astra's fatal fall, Weep Laurel to Apollo dear And Violets which the prime do call. For Astra fair with hairs adorned, Like Tinsil diaperd on pearl, The jealous stars have death suborned To steal her hence, more lucent girl. Astranubes condidit lunam nec clarius fulgentsydera: her For heavens fair Lamps, that glister so, From her perfection hide their face, Or else they had with scornful woe, Been Sunburnt by more lucent grace. Her breath was like the verdure worn On summers forehead: Maia's birth Cannot, with such perfume adorn The closet of green mantled earth. Of nightingales a consort sweet Recorded, whilst the Nymphs with Palm Shrouded fair astra's winding sheet, Of Cassia and spiced Balm. Quidsibene notum porticus Agrippate conspexerit: ire tamen superest Numa quo denenit & Ancus. hora. Thus all between the Sun and Earth Converse with men but like the snow: For what promotion, health, or wealth Is there, but time doth overthrow? Thus life presents the new sprung May, That morning blewes, and heat of noon, Blights, that it flourish'th not a day, Declining in itself more soon. Cant. III. The Cinocure, whose glistering light, Was clearer of my pleasure's morn, Hath locked me in cares Ebon night, Bound in the chair of fortune's scorn. The Cynthia of my thought is lost, (So vain it is to flourish here) But after her my love shall post, To meet again my native dear. So on the sweet Pastane fair, Of her rich foreheads, Edin plain, Where all the love of hearts repair, My flock of joys may feed again. That walking with thee, in the grove, Elisus campit ●datur ora tue●● tua. Virg Where blessed souls delights are shut, My wretched eyes may once more rove, Upon thy looks that life did cut. From me, but if unwasted art, Yet sporting by the Elysian shore, I will come serve thee with the part, Of duty, not performed before. Post quam te partem anima mea rapuit maturior Vi●▪ nec Charus not supersles ipse su● mihi. Hor. For thee I waste, as wood on flames, Or as dissolved wax on coals, And pine much like, the gnat that games Him in the lamp, till death controls. Nunc ager Umh brens sub nomie no nuper Osellii dictus, erit null propriut Hor. Thus earthly things are not our own, Their blossoms every blast decays: Those, that on earth are longest shown, Do spring and fall within few days. Qui Letheum transiit flumen nulla illum posent reducere Carina: Sene. The tree in morn, that proudly grew, Ere glade is often blown away, And then no showers can it renew, To flourish after first decay. Canto FOUR When Prime, fancies weeping mother, Coral buds, as joys fore-commer, Brought from radiant Sol, her brother, To enamel Lady Summer. Astra, the rose-bud of our spring, Dying, Et longum formose vale, vale inquit jola Virg with second life was crowned And every Muse, and every thing, Her chest in weeping fare wells drowned. The Hyrachies' in Tempe green. With silver girdled Thames decreed, Cui parem alma fides non inveniet Hor. For to enter this maiden Queen, Whose better never should succeed. Her soul fled to the Edin door, In dulcent gardaines taking ease, Nepenthe doth her joys restore, Without the cup of Menales. There Ceres gives her Atis flower Venus her lovers stammel bud, Hermaphrodite erects her bower By Atis in the myrtle wood. There sport with them by quiet Leathe, A while, my joy and I will come, And kiss thy footsteps after death, As now I do adorn thy tomb. Fortuna ut me dicus ignarus multos coecat Eras. Thus when worlds chiefest things arise, Chance bends our minds to fancy those, With which most swift away she flies, When on them once our liking grows Canto V. Ergo Quintilium perpetuus soper urget Hora. DId then the flower of maiden's fall, Into deaths slumber? no not so, But saints did her to heaven call, With them in Paradise to go, Micat inter omnes julium sidus velut inter ignes Luna minores. Saying thou Phoenix of all stars, Come to the crowned Virgins here, A door thy Saviour and the scars, By which he ransomed thee so dear. Humanum est humanis easibus ingemisce●e Herodi. But I, sith mortal, must lament, For thee, sweet Queen, for thee for ever, Railing on death's ungentle dent, O death, O joy, O sorrow giver. O who can ward the stroke of thee? Nullum saeva caput fugit Proserpina. Or for himself or friend compound? Or to preserve mortality, What Onamell can there be found, And sith she was Theano wise, A Samarite unto the poor, Dei pater sedes alcidi inter Astra Sen. And Tuca chaste within the skies, You Gods to her a star restore. Thura dabe atque omnes violae tactabo colores lwena. Partae tibi a●ria sunt palum bei Virgil. And ever whilst I tarry here, I will burn incensory wood, To thee, and send young Turtles dear For tokens to th' Elysian flood. Princess and Queen I will thee call, My Swanes, for thy decease, shall weep, For ever, by Thamesis fall, Cursing deaths private public sleep. Cant. VI THe Thrush shall descant of thy same, In silver warbles to the spring, Her young shall do the very same: In other ages as they sing. Virtutes tuas nobilis exprimer iufans lwena. The Virgins yet unborn shall walk, Unto Diana's silent woods, Thy chastity shallbe their talk, As they do crop the maiden buds. The Captain of more high desire, Thy wealth, thy bounty, and thy men, Thy peace and conquest shall admire, Such late perchance declined then, But I forget myself to mourn, That joy to mourn, and mourn to joy, Since I beheld the blessed Urn, Whose bosom holds my joys annoy, You adamantine ruthless Bears, Lay rage aside and weep with me, Thou wolf, if thou for her shed tears, The shepherds swain shall pardon thee. The Cattoblepos Thou beast that dost the Moon delight, Thy Goddess wail no more but die. Cynthia the comfort of the night, Is placed in heaven, out of the sky. Nunquam Stygias fertur ad Vmbras inclita Virtus. Sene. But die not loving, hating creature, Live not, fool in such distress, Her virtues spite of such defeature, A double view do still express. Cant VII. YEt comfortless we all decay: So did her delian essence please, So best respects slide first away, And grief concludes the greatest ease. Divitia sedent in usum nunc mihi nunc alii. Hor. A Crown possessed of him this day, Ere long some other doth possess, And those which for estate assay, Than least, by falling, are made less. The chiefest store of worldly things, Lubrica fortunasunt dona: Hor. Are flying in a sky of glass, Which fortune giveth waxed wings, To melt, before they come to pass. Then care of mind, and body's grief, Still vexeth life, and death doth come, In our secureness, like a thief, Mishaps warn none, but biteth dumb, Quod nollimus accipimus quod vellimus perdimus, Terent: And nought is sooner lost, save things, Which to enjoy we must request, But those, we would not, fortune brings To life, the mother of unrest. A thousand cares chance doth present, With one good thing unto our eyes, Which when to take our minds consent, The more abide, the lesser dies. Sith freshest things so soon decay, Carpe diem quam minimun credulus postero Hor. And rest as they had never been, Once gone, he therefore that will may, Must gather time when it is green. Canto VIII. IS any Muse weeper for death, Whose tears can give a Phoenix life. Yes, Clio mourns, when kings yield breath And falues the wound of sorrows knife. Then Aconite, Cypress and Yew, Yield sable shadow unto graves, The Virgin Laurel is her due, And virtues bud her tomb imbraves: You Thespian Imps of memory, Sing but of her magnificence, And your heroic harmony, Like mermaids tunes, shall ravish sense. Time stroke this marigolds fair crown, So Queene-apples consume to clay, pances and Hyacinths fall down, In earthly things there is no stay, Wherefore awhile I mean to cease, My tears that after shall abound, Though few moan him, that will increase, A spark that will himself confound, jam Elisias domus, iam beatum littus tenes Sen Yet will I not relinquish plaints, For Astra sweet my song shall lead, Who lost for ever, with the saints, Remaineth in th' Elysian mead. Nulla te terris rapiet vetustas Sen. Now dwelleth-dead here, and living there, And yet alive in every place: For Atropos, nor time can bear, From earth, the virtues of her grace. And you poor swains, that sigh and cry, For her, yet never saw her face, Take here a shepherds Virelay, That shall recite you what she was. An Ode Canto IX. AS Philomela doth condole, Qualis populea moerens Philomela sub Vmbra, amissos queritur foetus quos durus arator detraxit. Virg. When Ploughmen hard of heart have stole Out of Diana's chamber, Her little ones, so we lament, Railing on death's ungentle dent, That closed thy breath's sweet Amber O death her face was wonders book, Charactered with an angels look, Where in a little heaven, Ten thousand dimpled smiles did dwell, Sporting in virtues Onamell, But now she is bereaven. Her radiant forehead was the sky, The shining Onyx fixed thereby, Her eyes the Beams of Phoebe Her cheek pure Salamander down, Ennameld with an orient crown, More lucent than fair Hebe Like wiry gold her locks did shine, Her breath more sweet than Eglantine, Her speech all musics wonder: And every part so passing fair, That destinies did rend their hair, Such dulcent life to sunder. If that a goddess should assume, Life made for nature to consume. She could not better govern, She left no fame of sin behind, But boundless ornaments of mind. And was her body's Sovereign. Melpomen, Pracipe lugus bres cantus Melpomen. Hor. by the Castale flow, Tune thy sweet treble to our woe, For iron fortune closes, Her breast exceeding summers milk, Or Lilies spread on damask silk, Or times admired roses. Come gentle Flora to our Queen, Tibi Lilia plenis ecce ferunt Nympha calathis. Vir. Bring Dill and Ladie-lases green, To deck our rural glory, Here gladent lies the splendent Sun, Whose influence our day begun, That all the meads are sorry. The little Goats do learn to weep, Tuum poeni etiam ingemuere leones interitum Virg. So do the Wolves, so do the Sheep The Signets as in dying Warble upon Meander's shore, Hic Vultur illic luctifer bubo gemit: Sen: The Vultures for her loss deplore, In their unlucky crying. But thus the gem of earthly things, One moment unto nothing brings, Thus flesh hath no assurance. What most thereof we precious call, Like to the leaf doth spring and fall: But now she hath endurance. Where happy souls contained are, To be our climate, Venus' star Why Muse then stay thy mourning, And also we have part of her, Spiced with penitential myrrh, Until her souls returning. Her Obiet. Canto X. A Straea, let thy shepherd come, Ornamus tumulos & lauro terra Vire●ts spargitur. Inue, And keep this obiet at that tomb, Which was our joys bereaver, Time's silver daughter, purest maid, I will adorn where thou art laid, That waist, and art for ever. A Phoenix thy dead cinders gave, Gentis humana pater & custos tibi cura magni Casaris data. Hor. From thee a royal king we have, Good angels be his guider, And Monarches his posterity, Till time the day of doom descry, He is our cares divider. Darling to the graces three, Whilst Alchamists ordain for thee, A tomb of Gold and Amber, The marigold, Mollia luteola pinget vacinia caltha Virg. the suns delight, Green Basil and the Primrose white, Shall deck thy bridal chamber. Husbandless, fair wedded maid, To Christ, Gloria virtuiem tanquam Vmbra sequitur Cicero. true virtues have defrayed, In steed of deaths short slumber, Such praises to thy Virgin name, Such lucent attomies of fame, No Lynceus eye can number. Yet will I tell although a Swain, The golden age was in thy reign. It was an April season. Thy bounty seemed the verdant showers, Thy virtues rare a wreath of flowers, As sunbeams bright thy reason. It was a sight of worth to view What majesty did thee endue. Thy wisdoms true decerning, How other realms did deify Would ask Minerva to descry, Which is the Queen of learning Though insolence doth now repine, At times extinct, those days of thine, Derided fond supposers, Thy counsellors were famous far, Championi. Thy champion's terror in all war, Thy fleet new worlds disclosers, Thy realm was like an Indian mine, The purest metal was thy coin, The arts that then were used, Ensuing times may imitate, But not exceed in any rate, Unpartially perused. Thy fleets resembled Zerxes power, Each leader in them was a tower. Thy soldiers rocks of honour, The companies which those did yield, Can beat great Caesar from the field. And wound their foes with horror, The illustrious bands were infinite, Which she kept disciplined to fight, And ready at an hour, Her Cannon, Musket and her pike, Her troops of horse so thunderlike, Scorned Alexander's power. Pallam siguis auroque rigentem: colloque monile baccatum. & duplicem gemmis auroque coronam Virg. Purpuret Christis iwenes auroque corusc● Virg. Her captains marched in suits of gold. And silver cloth of price untold, In chains and indian pearl, For silk and velvet was but mean, Such happy plenty flourished then, To bless this heavenly girl. Her men most fierce to sight at hand, Can use the utmost of a band, For high exploits resolved, Well set they were and fitly made, Famous to charge and to invade, They sternest foes dissolved. To lead those valours lived then, Young Essex that brave Mars of men, Who in Galizia raised, His Spear, and dared at single sight, T'in counter proudest spanish knight, He was like Hector praised. There were no Idols in her days, One God with unprofaned praise, She most devoutly served, Her Clergy were a noble sort, Of learning rare, and good report, And were by faith preserved. Her lawyers were profound and wise, No private fee could right surprise Vice had such sickles ready, Troiaves opibusque egenos Dido. Virg. It nevar had a time to grow Great pensions she did still bestow Upon the sick and needy. The damask rose her ensign bore, Her cheek that badge in beauty wore, The Lion was her banner. Her mind heroic fixed to this, Made her the milk-white Lioness, Of pity, mixed with honour. Thus was the landlike to the cost, Of Edin which old Adam lost, Insula dives opum Priams dum regna mane bant, Virg. Nempe Alcides mortalis obiit Sene. Whilst that white rose remained, But for she lived below the sun, Where all things unto ending run. She could not be retained. Our lives are at so frail a rate, Death is our surest associate, Our joys resign to sorrow, Nemo tam divos habet faventes crastinum ut sibi possit polliceri Seneca. And lost, or gotten things but grieve, Less happy time, then bade we live, Uncertain of the morrow. Thus life enjoys no residence, Short minutes do our time dispense, And sixty times an hour Time changeth as the moments run, Things seeming permanent begun: Time doth, like gnats devour, But lo the Lapidaries come, With orient gems to raise thy tomb, In form of heavens fair motion, Of jasper clear shallbe the sky, The Sun of guilded Ivory, Diana in her station. With silver stars shall make a night, Herself a blazing chrysolite, And interposed under, Green myrtle groves of Emerald, For earth centre shallbe impald, In this applausive wonder. revested in a sapphire blue, Shall lie a maid of snowy hue, Upon a tomb of pearl. The Muses nine in coral drawn, Clouded in Tinsel and pure lawn, Shall mourn about this girl. White turtles also penciled there, Of diamond shall tapers bear, Which stars shall tip in burning, In violet gowns nymphs manifold, Shall sit and pray in books of gold, And make harmonious mourning. Poor shepherd, than I will away, Sweet nightingale, and lark go play, Her obiet thus was ended: And she survives in heaven above, And joys of paradise doth prove, And is with saints attended. Cant. XI. LIke as the Swan, which never sings before, Piscospue amne padusae Dat sonitum raves per stagua loquac iacycni. Virg. Time, natures steward, bids him life restore Then with such tunes receives his final sleep That all Meanders continent do weep. So do I sing though not so sweet a lay, Yet it presageth of my dying day, And speaking Astrabonica of thee, The turtle doves resort to visit me. The Nymphs, as witnesses, about me come, How I died speaking, though I lived dumb. Some to deride me, Bubosape queriet longas inslet umducero voces: Virg. but none prove more bad Than such as seem so wise, so good so sad. The lazy Owl, that harbendger of death, Besoundes a dirge for thy expired breath. Canto XII. THe bird that makes his song-booke of a thorn, By the enclosure of thy grave doth mourn The glow-worm kind, thy obsequies to hold In steed of tapers, shines like Phoebus' gold. The glistering yeikle, when winters come, With silver labels beautifie's thy tomb. Despise not then that by th' Elysian coast, In shepherds music I salute thy ghost, For fear the sun should languish in desire, And by descending set the world on fire. Nitor tui splendentis pario marmore purius Hora. Nature & death decreed that thou shouldst die Viewing the starry casement of thine eye. Whose brows of beauty still enclosed such sight As dimmed the carbuncle the chrysolite. Canto XIII. WHen flowering Flora's vesture doth begin, To show the cowslip with his balmy chin Her verdure rare, infused into some flower, Might, with Adonis, dill up Maies bower, Within her face, that features Helicon, Latona had her chaste Pavilion. And to the waters doth lament her loss, Who with an orient, stellified the cost. The little Nymphs their ivory lutes do frame For her the Stygian Mariner to blame, Melpomene to whom Apollo gave The doleful voice doth mourn besides her grave Pleasant euterpe's eyes for anguish weeps, To see her gladded in eternal sleep. Canto XIIII O When will Time her equal find again For to inhabit in this mortal reign, She hath been oft bewailed of each degree, Multi ille bonis flebilis occidit nulla flebilior quam tibi Virgili. Hor. Quicquid corrigi non potest levi us ●it pattentia Catullus But of none more (sweet virtue) then of thee No Orpheus songs can her recall again, Unto the image of her flowering reign, For Mercury, with his hard wand hath led, Her hence, unto the black flock of the dead But when such helps fortune loads the sight, Patience and fortitude must make it light, Old wintry age, in grisly furrows now, calends of death indents upon my brow. Yet ere I fade and ere my pen shall pass. I'll show the world how good a Q. she was, Canto XV. I, In the ruins of my withered lust, That should but meditate on sable dust. Thy blandishments, as lovesick must unfold, For the succeeding ages to behold. Charactering it, upon some myrtles bark, In verses fit to greet the morning's lark. You little heard-grooms bound to shepherds law, See then what wight was Astrahonica. Purpuriat ded● ratque comas diffunder● Ventis: Virg. The damask roses incensorie bud, For pure vermilion could not match her blood Her voice with wonder hearing charmed still Like to an Orpherion touched with skill. Her hairs that with the warbling wind doth twine Did seem, than Tagus richer, more divine. Cant. XVI. These sonnets import the accomplishments of her youth. HEr eyes presented with her forehead even, Stars dancing in the silver hall of heaven Phoebe reflected not more brighter on, Her tender lover young Endymion. Her words from wits circumference did fall, Comprising method most angelical. To such, as modesty did not reveal, She was obdurate with a flinty zeal. Ovid himself could not her fair impart, And yet her beauty was her poorest part. When she did trip upon an April green, You would have took her for Adonis' Queen Her dainty lips she moved being merry. Described a coral kissing of a cherry, Canto XVII. THis Shephardesse, that death from us bereaves Her little goats, upon the twining leaves Was wont to feed, Pormosus oves ad flumina pavit Adonis: Virg to her our looks did go, To gather indissoluble pure snow. For white and red so flourished in her cheek, That Edins white and orient seemed to speak. Nature's decree in polished ivory, That with her glade, true beauty's day should die A hook of Crystal were her hairs, her eine. Ensnared with sun beams in a silken line. Where virtues did a world of hearts behold Surprised by blushes in a net of gold. In wonders Sympathy, from earth exiled, Her virtue lived to beauty reconciled. Canto XVIII. SEeking her face at midnight for the day. I did behold night, heaven, moon & may. For stars & virtues Suns & flowers did trip, From cheek to forehead, & from eye to lip. Her countenance moved with a thousand graces As pretty dimples quaver in loves faces. Whose lustres had they been by cignet shown They would have turned Achilles to a stone. Have been an incensorie flame to make, The Phoenix rare an other shape to take. A year of may-months on her brow did oast Marshalling features to defend the coast. Under whose ensign modesty did fight, Against all false exacters of delight. Canto XIX. HEr hairs that on her brow the air did blow bended like daffadillis kissing snow. Where beauty drawn with many an azure line, show'd to the world she was a wight divine. And in her looks were living angels drawn, Weaving hart-wonders in her cheeks soft lawn The little stars shot from their fixed places, Under her eyelids to behold their faces. Which sat in Canopies to all discloses, Two silver loade-starres in a sky of roses. Pallas deciphered not a fairer dame, Of silk and tincy in gold arras frame. She was a virgin to be praised of kings, And was the diamond of earhtly things, Canto XX. But now yond honeyed flowers with balmy sap, That sunny blooms awake on Tellus' lap. Shall decorate no more her bosom sweet, For she is gladded in her winding sheet. The twining worms within the dead man's hall For love knots, in her silken locks do crawl. With mourning silence, by some secret tree, Winding. Nec gemere áeria cessabit turtur ab Vlmo Vir. Like to the turtle I will grieve for thee. And if I talk, my speech but sorrow tells, My hearing deaf, but only hearing kneels. The rotten toadestoole shall content my taste My sight and feeling after death shall hast. That worn with, Morphew lean & withered, I may resemble my companions dead. Britan's Ode S. XXI. WHen as that cunning Artisan, Fair Philomela, her song began. The time Aurora in her tent, Displayed her ruby ornament. This time the term of shepherds law, Came lovely Astrabonica. To teach her coral lip to plead, Of love, in the green girdled mead. Looks that sith, and siths that look, Instantly my arrant took, Heart did love to eyes deliver, To present the fairest liver. Heartless souls, we both did woe, Wanting hearts yet both had two. Like Ganymede her face did shine, That youth which draws the Gods their wine. Her feature seemed of flesh and bone, Like Venus in white marble stone. The ivory girl was not so white, In which Pygmalion took delight. Her skin as sleek as Afric silk, Aurea mala decemn isi, cras altera mittam Virg. Her vainslike violet strains in milk. Her hairs revealed the golden fleece, Or passing tindaris of Greece: Queene-apples for her did I get, With yellow sides like amber wheat. With turtle-doves from myrtle nest, While she made bracelets for my wrist. But were't the son of Telaphus, Or youthful chaste Hippolytus. That had with grizzly death agreed, To fetch her to th' Elysian mead. To be the flower of virgins there, I know not but their did appear. From violet buds a serpent blue, Whose sting infixed, Astraea slew. There as me a sleep she sung, Death, to death, her sorrows stung. Medea wanted to apply, Nec semper viola, nec semper lilia florent; ●●riget amissa spina relect● rosa. ovidius. Forma brevis flos est. Nepenthe buds and dittany. And whilst heavens took her soul, Thievish death her beauty stole. So the rose-bud of our spring, Died like every pleasant thing. So the Lily of our field, Presently her life did yield. Presently, for finest leaves, First from green, the frost bereaves. Thus destiny our life but lends, And care begins where pleasure ends. So death's lure must be obeyed, And good things soon are betrayed. So that which men most precious call, Springs but to feed mischance withal. Phatusa never more did mourn, When sobs did her to Amber turn. Nor Progne, which on turret's steep, For men's false perjuries doth weep. Then I, when fatal paleness there, I had espied to clould my dear. O Astrabonica I cried, And echo half the name replied. Bonica is gone to keep, A flock of heavens golden sheep, Then viewed I her in such sad sort, As sorrow none can now report. Cursing planets of life's might, Stars of birth that did this spite And all that unto death belongs, Tears of grave, and hearses songs, Breathing out her final groan, She desired to pass alone. This is my last request quoth she, Stay here till I do come for thee: So here I stay amidst this vale, Till my Elysian Nightingale, Invite me to the mi●le spring, If my cares thorn her bosom sting. So here I stay against my breast, As Philomele when I should rest. The thorn of fortune which spares none, To make me mindful to be gone. Nema foelix est dut fuit aut vx●● quam erit. Zen. From hence where man is made the slave, Of all mishaps until his grave. This apparent to the woods, The Nymphs selected verdant buds, And time the daffodil gave, So she was wedded to her grave, In maiden years who was destroyed, For good things seldom are enjoyed. HEre is no sage Astidamus to please, Envy that honest actions doth displease. No liquid ink of Helicon to write, Rural my songs, and I arurall wight. In Western Valleys by the Sycomers, Elysian sorrows, shed in April tears. Relent not reed, though fawning Gnatho spite, Asses more often use to bray then bite. Yet as thou art submissive to the wise, Malignant curs deride and sots despise. Of Zeuxes pencil, let Apelles tell, Nature ordained thee to an oaten Quill. Depart and live for Hiltons' old content, Eternizd by Thamesis continent. FINIS. THE worlds VANITY. Very profitable for allsorts to consider. Est Vita aegra salus, Vexata quies, pius error, Bellica pax, Vullnus duceque, suave malum. WHen Zephyrus, the primrose love was come, To raze the sleeping pawnce from winter's spite, And April seasons nutrimental bloom. The sable earth in daffadillies dight. Whilst unto Flora, birds on every tree, Their homage paid in Tubals harmony. Then on a promontory by the west, I spent my time in meditation, To sing unto my reed esteeming best, Some song thot might remain when I am gone, Where full of care for Astrabonica, This languishment of life my voice did draw. In method which perchance itself may save, From the invasion of dissolving days And keep from death's subversion & the grave, My thoughts enclosed in surviving lays Which spurned by envy shall affirm with schools No praise so great as the contempt of fools. Frondeum infelix Philomela nidum ponit argutum medidit anicanoro. Cutture carmen Toren. O who will learn me grief? come Philomele, That to the virgin Muses Lutes dost sing, And wilt thy woeful destiny reveal. To shepherds in the tender lipped spring, Cimbale a silver strain, then sob among, And with sweet discords melody my song. This fickle world's delight, is but distress, Which wise men title false felicity. fools sweet, whose substance is but bitterness. Asilly toy to mock our fantasy For none inherits joy upon the ground, Until their bodies on the bear be bound. First strangers here we greet the world with cries Cares eat our life, and we feed worms at last, Nothing have we secure but miseries, Our goods are trifles for mishap to waste, And he that seems too rich, too strong to fade Lies soon level by the delver's spade. Here, if in virtuous parts we spend our days, The evil minded mock and hate us sore, And if we sin and follow vicious ways, The good and virtuous will detest us more Thus envy combats life, but happy those, That force the scum, their envy to disclose. Life linked to the corpse appears in view, Like feathers on the arrows that are sold, Which are but fastened with a little glue, And fall away by heat arwatry cold. So falls our life with every little grief, Into the dust, so falls the greenest leaf. How can life be of any valour when, A soldier but for eight pence doth it sell? How can it be that men should not be men, But so like brutes in base affections dwell? When counting at their end their season spent Their life shall seem a short imprisonment. Here men repose secureness in their hope, In which their lot most fatal doth appear, For oft their purpose aims beyond the scope. Of the short time, they have to sojourn here: Admit they live, life but augments their thrall Their wishes to some others lot do fall. Man seems to be most happy in his youth, Florida aetas multos mortis casus habet. Cicer. And in the joy, to that frail flame assigned, But youth is frailest if we note the truth, And soon spent, for youth with foolish mind Falls unawares on care, or timeless end, His joys deride him, and to cares descend. In wealth some other would be counted blest: But vain presumption or unthrifty pride, With servants falsehood empties oft his chest, Or his insatiate spirit doth hoard and hide, That having store, he plains of poverty, Or prodigal, is eat of usury. Thus mortal happiness (if any be) Doth jointely yield us most unhappiness, For loss or gain prove both alike to thee, For loss or gain prove both alike distress, Frail earthly things corrupt both root & seed For to their loss, or gain great cares proceed All earthly pleasures, that content the eye, One blast their being, and their worth subdues, Fortune with death mischief with misery, And momentary end, our mirth pursues, Then if thou wilt thy heart on pleasures lay, Choose God to be thy confidence and stay. This life is but a may game, mixed with woe, An airy stage, where we like poppits play: Quis sit an aditciant hodierna crastina vita temporadis supri. Horat. The greatest joy doth pass as minutes do, And look what time hath brought, time takes away, With Sisyphus, we role a restless stone. The best to day a man to morrow none. joy is the image of unconstancy, Day but a lamp for men to view their pains, Time, pursuivant of imbecility, Rest, an unrest, where sin in thoughts remain, All things unpermanant save misery, Mishap, our wealth, and death, our destiny. To know this world make but anatomy, Of the dissembling hippocrites that live, Search him that yields thee formal courtesy, And he'll be thine, no longer than thou give: Making himself a janus with two faces, Fallit vitium specie virtutis, Innenal, Now yielding honour, and anon disgraces, So doth the world, like to a parasite, Or flatterer unto some fat-purst fool, Entice us on with pleasure and delight, But when her blandishments atach our soul, We find her painted craft was to beguile, And Siren like to kill although she smile. Here is that radiant jewel, virtue spurned, Naked conceit bore witted bravery Doth sit her chariot she being quite oreturnd: Here short lived gnats hate perpetuity, Whose wit with Midas makes them wear long ears Though for their wealth wise men with flatterers O nunimi vobis hunc prastat honorem. june. The ocean of oblivion must not drown, Those Gulls, which to produse a benefit, In all offences will a man renown, Th'isle say that madness is a manly heat, And if insatiately we swallow food, These will commend our stomachs to be good Our humours these will sound with subtle slight, And where we estimate ourselves most dear, Either for form of body, wit or might, In that they will protest we have no peer: But mock us gone, to such no counsel tell, But seldom speak and always listen well Donec eris foelix multos numera bis amicos. Tempora si fuerint nubila solus eris. Ovid's. Here whilst a man hath wealth to spend and give, These threadbare echoes of unconstancy, That like to drones on others honey live, Will counterfeit with men to live and die.: But if their patron once they needy see, They seek a new and then say farewell he. If they perceive thy table's spring is dry, These fawning Gnathoes from thy need will turn To other boards, and to thine enemy, Perchance will go to to do thee some shrewd turn Some willbe friends their aimed stroke to strike Of which prevented, they will thee dislike. They call him fool in these deceitful days That is to seek with both his hands to play, Wherefore that wight is thrall to great dismays On friendship's trust which doth his counsels lay Then with thy friend, as still your friendship grow, Remember he may live to be thy foe. As when Sibyl, the trojan duke did lead, Unto the myrtle woods and realm of ghosts, Virtutis comes inu●dia. The hellhound snarled with the triple head, And hegs and furies, serpents at him tossed: So here with slimy mouths at virtue fights, Lusts fat-braind fragments cropstuft parasites. Thus in this world the labyrinth of woes, With false resemblances we are suppressed, Learning and virtue have ten thousand foes, In no degree content, or fortune rest, Health, beauty, strength & life, but spring to fall, And envy springs with either to wrong all. Inuidus alterius rebus macrescit opimis. Hor. Effundet mala lingua Virus atrum. Virg. A wight with neighbour's happiness and joy, Perplexed ever with contagious pain, Is envy ever laughing at annoy, But stings her heart with snakes at others gain, At books and learning she will poison fling As thick as Bacchus' wives at orphy sling Thus we with sundry woes are martyred, Being poor in wealth, and strangers to our own Here in the vale of mourning banished, Living but deputies and must begun: And the more perfect all our virtues are, The fouler envies do against us war. Then that which we call death, is not to die, But rather to exchange a death for life, Dico tunc vitam beatam fata cum peracta sint: Solon. And scape the cloister of all misery, And earthly ambages and hellish strife, If by contemplating our state we see, We bondslaves live, & death shall make us free. The glutton thinks his belly is too small, The covetous still wanteth dross and slime, The flatterer protests he's at thy call. While for themselves these cunning mates but clime Here with such counterfeits we always dwell, That seek our goods but wish our souls in hell Here being borne, we rather die then live, For all our life is as a seeming death, Few hours we sport, but many days we grieve Whilst death with secret hand doth stop ourbreth So though we joy or grieve, while we be here, We only seem as shadows to appear. Both wealth, & friends, both joys and sports also Will flit away if danger come in place: And sure they prove untrue to make us know, That this frail mansion is no dwelling place, To teach us love those things that still endure, And seek a haven wherein to live secure. Man's mortal life is like a speedy post, That from all places swiftly cuts a way, Until he hath attained his aimed cost, Both youth and age haste on & make no stay, In the beginning, middle end of either, Cum sapido capimus supe Vanena. Cibo. Both seek such things, and will abide with neither A wretched soul, that fortune down hath fling. Finds no assistance in his shipwrecks flaw, In seeking flowers, with nettles we are stung, Thus bond we are in worldly yokes to draw. And we resemble till in dust we lie The flowet that in a day, doth spring and die. Let not my words supply a wonders place, For truth doth witness that I do not feign, He that is mortal knows a mortals case, And that each mortal lives in mortal pain. For we were borne to die and die we must, To day alive to morrow turned to dust. What wight can well behold a dead man's skull And sighing will not say the same with me? That were thy corpse as Salamander wool, A vault of slime thou art, and once shalt be, Closed in a charmell house as could as stone, And meat to worms that now thou treadest upon This world is like unto a common Inn Where Adoms child doth live as passenger, Here some one day, some many days have been, Yet in their being they are nought the near. For time's so swift, Dum loquimur fugit invida atas. Hor. that none can time retain, And Time once gone, Time never turns again. Man's life is very fitly termed a span, And we are but earth's worst, and that is clay. Worms are the garland of vain glorious man, O be not proud sith thou must die to day. Then if thou trust, trust death for he is sure, For all on earth will perish as impure. Life may be likened to a violet flower, Begnawn with Caterpillars or the glue, That wise Medea gave her paramour, Which choking balls the bulls of Colchos slew: Life may be like to nothing, sith man sees, Nothing more like to nothing then life is, Mandeeme thyself no better than thou art, A sorry iourniman from birth to grave: All worldly goods which we encroach by art, Are momentary trash, and what we have Is of the world and must be left behind, And on the earth is no content of mind. Wealth comes not in by hap or is increased, By father's toil, the sons good to prepare, Promotion comes not from the East nor West, Such fortunes dwell neither in moon nor star But he doth all increase, and blessings hold, That first composed man of earthly mould. As he in danger lives who hath a thief Hid closely in the night, behind his door, So all that live have even of thieves the chief, Death lodged within their boatswain: Thebes therefore, Wisely ordained, that licence none should have To build his house, that made not first his grave Triphon and Agamendo having made, Apollo's temple, and for lieu of this, Desired the happiest thing that could be had, They were repaid with death as chiefest bliss. This common peril, salve of vanity, Is good, because it endeth misery. The power of flesh is but a rotten reed, And truth to say, Brevis est magnifortuna favoris. Sen. what is prosperity? A slave to alteration, care and dread, A slippery step that ill men magnify: And life is but a warfare against sin, And flesh a bridewell to torment it in. All worldly lovers die not worthily, But twice the pains of fleshly death they bear, Whereas the stout, and valiant men but die, These Cowards feel a double death for fear. But fate which none can flatter, or suborn, Nor tongue entreat, ought stoutly to be born. I know the property of pleasure is, To leave more sorrow, when it goes away, Then when it came it brought deluding bliss, And well I know, that death will have his day: 〈…〉 The which defrauding lusts when we have took, In their best stay do vanish all like smoke. And done we cirumvent ourselves thereby, The time thereof departs and there we stand, Detected factors of a villainy, Mocked by the deed, and of the hellish band, The judge, our conscience doth condemn the evil Which we commit and leaves us to the devil To some good art if Tutors do not bind, Us, Otium omnia mala docet, a dolescentes. Cicer. in our youth, the cares of life to try, We, being free, our idle vexed mind, To pleasures damned faculties apply, That worse than prenticeship, our fancy wounds Ourselves to death, & prove Actaeon's hounds Here such as gifts do spare, & those made poor, By giving no respect can have, for all, Pleasure excludeth who can give no more, Then poverty her Siren voice doth call, If once enriched she rich & poor doth weed, Then turns them out unto small friended need To harbour in all weathers, poor and bare, On the cold ground, of such as friends had been Some will deride them, none relieve their care, But say wherefore had he not kept it then? Thus when our wealth will not keep company None will redress our states in misery. And can we any earthly thing attain, Without displeasure, labour, misery? Which of them are not slippery in the gain, And very may games of uncertainty? Their vanity no author can discuss, They are as common unto beasts as us. The grave delivers all men from their care, And life once gone, sins, time seems finished Praemia quanta bonos maneant. Inuen. In spite of all the snarling curs that are, Which gnaw the living and torment the dead, Both rich and poor, even all that suffer grief If good, shall after death find full relief. When Thian from the worlds great voyage came Some asked him what a world he then had seen I have beheld virtue oppressed with blame, (Quoth he) & poor men's suits confounded clean By the usurping proud, and fools express, And beat the wise, & great thieves hung the les And how for money Argus will not see, How rich men's faults were sport, but poor men's crime How best deserts with thanks scarce guerdoned be How the oppressed bought pity in his time: And how most seeming holy men in gowns, Under that sanctimony fished for crowns. This was the world's rude revolution then, Which ever was but vain and ever shall Remain man's hurt, sins shop a daemons den, Or like a dream, or tossed tennis ball. Man's life is fitly termed a nothing got, The gainers lose the havers have it not. Care eat's man's entrails, Envy gnaws his back, Fortune with slippery chances trip his foot, Greediness tells him somewhat still doth lack When he hath took his deepest shallow root His name, & fame, time doth dissolve to nought And one as vain into his room is brought. The triumph days which Rome to Caesar gave, Carthage to Hannibal, the spartan host Unto Leonides that Athens grave Imposed on Pericles and Persia coast Allotted Syrus, after victory Had no repose, no perpetuity, For this the heathen Emperors ordained, (So much this world's vain frailness did they know That when they had their diadens attained, Masons & Carvers should unto them go inquiring of what form that tomb should be Sowell the Pagans knew their vanity. For this the Romans made a wise decree, That when a Consul did in triumph ride In Coach, with him a slave should placed be Which slave should say my friend for all this pride Take heed thou know thyself chance doth butlend This which in shame without great heedwil end seasons & years Through hours through days, weeks, months, Through labour, hunger, cold, care, pain tears, watchings, Through false delights, fools, unjust friends, loss, From birth life fades, unto the grave again: And death, the sweet release of sorrow great, The flowering bud of youth doth first defeat. To Ciperissus' youth he was extreme, And unto Hilas, who his locks did dight, Making his noon day mirror of a stream, And Adlington whose surname Welsteed hight, In belgic wars, his lance did overcome, Circling that young Apollo with a tomb. Si quid mea carmina possint Nulla dies vn● quam memori te eximet ano Virg. But, most obliged friend, thou shalt not lie, In lowest dust, as though thou never were, Although alas we all are borne to die, My love shall one day greet thy warlike bear: Mean time repose thee in the Elysian field, Fame hath thy name, and honours tent thy shield. Raptam euridice● atque irrita l●itisdona querens. Virg. Yet will I mourn for thee with such sad lays, As Orpheus once resounded for a ghost, When in the prime of all her flowering days, His young wife whom he dearly loud he lost. The woods shallbe my house, my bed sun stone There will I live, for thee & die alone. Here, as they would, who can their hopes receive? Here, as they would, who can esteemed be: Here, Fates, and friends perfidiously deceive: Here, as they would (Time) who can feed on thee None: for on earth, where all things are unsure Things seldom be, or being not endure. My youth declined, and felt no kind of joy, The wanton days wherein I took delight, Were but a dream, a shadow, and a toy, And were but lent to breed me more despite But why unpitied should I murmur so? I naked came, and naked hence must go, Respect the universal lives of men, And see what toil in living dust remains, This man is fleshly crimes detested den, That seeks out Anaxarchus worlds for gains, Diseases, need, and wrong an other knows, Like leaves in storms so are we tossed with woes And living here with whom doth man frequent: But with old lechers envious parasites, Murderers belly-slaves what snares are bend, Nova terris incumbit febrium cohors. Hora. To take his soul, against his body fight, Intolerable stones and stranguries, With fevers, postumes, swelling maladies. Man in this world is laid as sure in hold, Till he be put to execution, For what gail hath more labour, hunger, cold, Or more diseases than this world hath shown: To greatest men O vale of languishing, No muse can tell the troubles thou dost bring And whereas one adorned with the crown Of silver locked age, salutes his grave, Infinite in their chief are beaten down, Pallida mors aquo pulsat pede pauperum takernas regunque turres. Hor. Death neither spares the wretched nor the brave For death of custom as a cold in May, By toil, or sorrow first gives youth decay. O foolish sorrow, vexed happiness, Self flattering mock, proud nothing, painted clay, Chaos of trouble, mischief, and distress, uncurable Ulcer, Siren's lay, Times Icarus, Post, Bubble, Froth, false name, O life no slander can express thy blame. Mishaps tragedion, residence of pain, Cipher of earth, sins slave, true reasons gale, cipher. Thoughts pray, joys mock, youth's fool, nature's disdain, Prids' ass, into the ditch of death to fall Is man, his youth, and age both fickle breath ' Are but as jailer's keeping him for death. Thus all our days are parents of sure cares, Willand Wit. Our health the nurse of wars, 'tween will & wit, Our impious youth a mist for age prepares, A crimeful pack of sin, too great for it, Ourselves unto ourselves a wretchedness, With vain conceits our lusting minds oppress, Our age presents, but feebleness disguised Perplexed in thought with sin, in flesh with pain His company, and counsels are despised His death expected by his friends for gain, Who much rejoice if we in riches vade, If poor to rid us hence they willbe glad. For all their palaces and shining pride, Rich men are slaves to many tyrannies, And sleeps foe sorrow, durst in them abide Fowl lusts, & mocked hopes do them surprise, And though their greatness keep the mean in fear Yet most with them their own commanders bear. If earth were animated with a soul As Plato did suppose, the very ground, Whereon he treads, would call a monarch fool, And say thou wretch thou thinkest thyself renowned, When I, that am the earth retain in me A thousand thousand better men than thee. And if earth's compass be a point in all, Of which an Empire seems a little spark, What may we then a private Lordship call. Not half a worm-hole if we rightly mark, Then why should any think themselves so great Sith they are bounded in so small a seat. And when thou leavest this life, thou bear'st nothing Of these with thee, thy realms, and pleasures send Thee hence alone although thou were a king, Thy flesh also that seemed thy dearest friend, A naked soul, doth let thee pass away. Thus but in heaven, thou hast no perfect stay. Therefore we always should have death in mind How to another country we must go, How life is but a leaf blown up with wind, A cobweb light, a false familiar foe, Sin's nurse, a sickness long, a dying day, A friend of vice, that seeks the souls decay. And all our pride is but mortality, Where in an earthen frame, the planets boil, Humours corrupt, as Cinthea doth the sea Which do invest the soul and make her toil, In cogitations base, and all earth's best, Is seldom had or gotten but unrest, Our home above the circle of the stars Is set, leaving the clouds behind her back, To the last heaven the soul her slight prepares, By death released from this valley black, Whether when indeed destiny thee brings, That thou behold the snining judge of things Then will't thou say this is the wished place, My country true of which I had no mind, Here was I borne & bowing down thy face, To earth, thou wilt condemn thy friends so kind, That there lament thy death because they cast, Their love on lusts, & joys that will not last. This earth is but a Cell of punishment, Yet people's insolency will not know it, Until they fall in matter of complaint, Though time their youth & chance their friends defeat, Whilst that themselves are well they think such lie, As say this world is but mere vanity. The minutes, hours, days, weeks, months & years On whose swift transmigration life depends, Senister chance excruciates with tears, If one day please, a month with care offends, The liked time declines, the wished lot Comes sild, and soon departeth being got. Count but the time, ere thou thy wish obtain, Than next, how long thou after that mayst live. And thou shall see it prove so short and vain, That having it, it shall thy mind but grieve, And prove in usage, less and worse to thee, Then in thy fancy first it seemed to be. As the unjointed limb no ease can have, But by uniting with his native place: So from his birth until he hath his grave, Man lives in grief, & doth but thorns embrace In joy & time, he hopes but for his pain, And hating death, he hates his greatest gain. Now sith the world can give but painted bubbls For fools and epicures to dote upon, Tell it, it can impart nor joys nor troubles, For all is but a dream below the sun, And flesh is dust, pride, vain, & life a span. Then bid the world afflict thee how it can, Foes, fortune, world & hate, your worst is death Greatness, delight, and pomp, your best is end, Here hopes and friends the fates sequestreth, And many tears for both in vain we spend. The living and the great are fortunes slaves, More than the wretch, or those that lodge in graves. Thus is our life but careful meditation, Qua atas lo●g● est aut quidom ●ino homini longum. Sallust. Of vain discordant thoughts, a liking shade, Of momentary things a mist soon gone, A frothy dew which to itself hath made, The promise of long time, when that each hour It is unto itself unknown unsure. And of this life, the trust and confidence, Whose short abode doth make us bold to sin, By this thou seest and by experience, That since the hour in which it did begin, It runneth unto nought and ever shall, Till it expire as it had never been, Like to a dream or shadow on a wall. What fool will then repine to pass from hence, Where nothing is sincere faith, peace, nor love, Where many most oppress the least offence, Whereas the great are not so sure above, But they shall naked pass to nature's Inn, And soon become, as they had never been. That they may enter heavens eternal gate, Math. xi. To Christ, who calls oppressed souls to joy, And with the blessed sainted infants mate, Which Herod from sweet jewrie did destroy, Wherewith all wronged innocents appears, Math. 2. Their weeping mothers bathed in blood and tears No eye hath everseene nor heart hath thought, The solaces which God hath laid in store Corinth. xi. For their content, who set this world at nought The kingly prophet wished to keep the door Of that place, Psal. 84. rather than he would possess All earthly Princes glorious wretchedness, Here soldiers and courageous noble men, Who for their country's honour were suppressed, Released from their bodies painful den, With everlasting quietness are blest In union of the Godheads trinity, They that were mortal living angels be. Which Lord I pray, that when our life shall end This life which day by day in vanity, And night by night to none effect we spend, Of all offences pardoned let us be Committed here by mist of mind oppressed, That in thy promised glory we may rest. The glory bright of that immortal reign, Where souls and bodies shallbe wedded new, After domes day, and never die again, Paul wished to be dissolved this same to view, And praises of his highest God to sing, In Paradise by heavens eternal spring. That therefore we may trust none earthly thing Sweet jesus, for thy tender love to all, With the lost sheep unto thy fold us bring, Math 18. That we may know thy voice when thou dost call Make saved souls of these our sinful forms And think on me Lord, when I am in thrall, And lie in grave a death's head full of worms. Grant Christ whose blessed blood in crimson streams, With bitter rods and cruel nails was shed, Whose sacred limbs were racked on wooden beams Whose holy heart was pierced being dead, Grant to protect us from all deadly sin, And when we from this dying life are fled, Let sorrows end and heavenly joys begin. Amen. An Ode. Nulla dies caret maerore. WIth providence reflect thy look, Into thy lives accounting book. And thou shalt see how Time destroys Thy youth, thy friends, thy foolish joys. Which pleasures mocking all desires, Show them but servants unto liars, And look on this with eyes of mind, With which men see when they are blind. None ever had such joy a day, That from them did not slide away. Fo● that soon turneth into was, Which sprung of late as tender grass. With joy let none himself deceive, For every lust will take his leave. Rich misery is great men's share, Pompous distress and glittering care, With which they toil as troubles lent, Till death exact of them their rent. Still in thy pleasure bear in mind, That sorrow is not far behind. Fivers present our image plain, Which passing never turn again. Such is this world when it is best, That each degree finds little rest. He that is highest in his pride, His fortune changeth as the tide. All signifies a fading flower, Rust, Time, and worms will all devour. Life, Ioy, and every pleasant meed, Scarce hangeth by a slender thread. To all, this period fate doth doom, That all must unto nothing come. As child in nurse's arms, by death Included here we draw our breath. Where all our solace is unstable, Out death unknown inevitable Which none by strength alternate may, Riches, or birth, or other way. And earth is promiser of rest, Which is not as it seemed possessed. None have contentment at their call, And smallest sweet abounds in gall. When we think surest for to stand, Then greatest slidings are at hand. One danger seldom comes alone, But more proceed ere that be gone. The Castles, which repulse a foe, Cannot defend a man from woe. Wherhfore old Solon did commend, To call none happy till their end. And Dyon gave this sentence rare, The shorter life the lesser care. From birth that prison we ascend, On earth, as stage to take our end. And here a life envied we have, And no true rest until our grave. Wherhfore fools heaven, but wise men's hell, Vain Earth, I bid thy joys farewell. FINIS. Ad suos libros. AS Time and the cold grave, Concludeth every thing: So you I ended have Poor books, amidst the spring Even as the Lark saluted day And silver drops bedewed each way. Go now and pardon crave Of that heroic knight, Which wisdom doth embrave, Whom if you know not right, His bounty, stature, complete form, And valour great shall you inform. His hair like wreaths of gold Do shade his manly face, So warlike to behold As Mars the God of Thrace. Nature and Art did both consent So to contrive him excellent. His Lady fresh also, And daughter's virtues flowers, Adorn you, as you go Until your latest hours. Which goodly creatures to be seen Seem Lilies on their stalks so green. So pass away and if that envy stir, 'tis but a stingles drone, a barking cur.