A Handful of pleasant delights, Containing sundry new Sonnets and delectable Histories, in divers kinds of Meeter. Newly devised to the newest tunes that are now in use, to be sung: every Sonnet orderly pointed to his proper Tune. With new additions of certain Songs, to very late devised Notes, not commonly known, nor used heretofore,  
By Clement Robinson, and divers others.  
¶ AT LONDON Printed by Richard Ihones: dwelling at the sign of the Rose and Crown, near Holborn Bridge 1584.   

The Printer to the Reader.  

YOu that in Music do delight your minds for to solace:  
This little book of Sonnets m●● well like you in that case,  
Peruse it well ere you pass by, here may you wish and have,  
Such pleasaut songs to each new tune, as lightly you can crave.  
Or if fine Histories you would read, you need not far to seek:  
Within this book such may you have, as Ladies may well like.  
Here may you have such pretty things, as women much desire:  
Here may you have of sundry sorts, such Songs as you require.  
Wherefore my friend, if you regard, such Songs to read or hear:  
Doubt not to buy this pretty Book, the price is not so dear.    

A Nosegay always sweet, for Lovers to send for Tokens, of love, at New Year's tied, or for fairings, as they in their minds shall be disposed to write.  

A Nosegay lacking flowers fresh, to you now I do send.  
Desiring you to look thereon, when that you may intend:  
For flowers fresh begin to fade, and Boreas in the field,  
Even with his hard con●…ealed frost, no better flowers doth yield:   

¶ But if that winter could have sprung, a sweeter flower than this,  
I would have sent it presently to you withouten miss:  
Accept this then as time doth serve, be thankful for the same,  
Despise it not, but keep it well, and mark each flower his name.   

¶ Lavender is for lovers true, which evermore be feign:  
Desiring always for to have, some pleasure for their pain:  
And when that they obtained have, the love that they require,  
Then have they all their perfect joy, and quenched is the fire.   

¶ Rosemary is for remembrance, between us day and night:  
Wishing that I might always have, you present in my sight.  
And when I cannot have, as I have said before.  
Then Cupid with his deadly dart, doth wound my heart full sore.   

¶ Sage is for sustenance, that should man's life sustain,  
For I do still lie languishing, continually in pain,  
And shall do still until I die, except thou favour show:  
My pain and all my grievous smart, full well you do it know.   

¶ Fenel is for flatterers, an evil thing it is sure:  
But I have always meant truly, with constant heart most pure:  
And will continue in the same, as long as life doth last,  
Still hoping for a joyful day, when all our pains be past.   

¶ Violet is for faithfulness, which in me shall abide:  
Hoping like wise that from your heart, you will not let it slide.  
And will continue in the same, as you have now begun:  
And then for ever to abide, than you my heart have won.   

¶ Time is to try me, as each be tried must,  
●●●…ting you know while life doth last, I will not be unjust,  
And if I should I would to God, to hell my soul should bear.  
And eke also that Belzebub, with teeth he should me tear.   

¶ Roses is to rule me. with reason as you will,  
For to be still obedient, your mind for to fulfil:  
And thereto will not disagree, in nothing that you say:  
But will content your mind truly, in all things that I may.   

¶ jeliflowers is for gentleness, which in me shall remain:  
Hoping that no sedition shall, depart our hearts in twain.  
As soon the sun shall lose his course, the moon against her kind,  
Shall have no light, if that I do once put you from my mind.   

¶ Carnations is for graciousness, mark that now by the way,  
Have no regard to flatterers, nor pass not what they say.  
For they will come with lying tales, your ears for to fulfil:  
In any case do you consent, nothing unto their wil   

¶ Marigolds is for marriage, that would out minds suffice,  
Lest that suspicion of us twain, by any means should rise:  
As for my part, I do not care, myself I will still use.  
That all the women in the world, for you I will refuse.   

¶ pennyroyal is to print your love, so deep within my heart:  
That when you look this Nosegay on, my pain you may impart,  
And when that you have read the same, consider well my woe,  
Think ye then how to recompense, even him that loves you so.   

¶ Cowsloppes is for counsel, for secrets us between,  
That none but you and I alone, should know the thing we mean:  
And if you will thus wisely do, as I think to be best:  
Then have you surely won the field, and set my heart at rest.  
I pray you keep this Nosegay well, and set by it some store:  
And thus farewell, the Gods thee guide, both now and evermore.  
Not as the common sort do use, to set it in your breast:  
That when the smell is gone away, on ground he takes his rest.   
FINIS.   

L. gibson's Tantara, wherein Danea welcometh home her Lord Diophon from the war.  
To the tune of, Down right Squire.  

YOu Lordings, cast off your weeds of woe  
me thinks I hear  
A trumpet shrill which plain doth show  
my Lord is near:  
Tantara▪ tara tantara,  
this trumpet glads our hearts,  
Therefore to welcome home your King,  
you Lordings play your parts,  
Tantara tara tantara, etc.   

¶ Hark hark, me thinks I hear again,  
this trumpets voice,  
He is at hand this is certain,  
wherefore rejoice.  
Tantara tara tantara, etc.  
this trumpet still doth say,  
With trumpets blast, all dangers past,  
doth show in marshal ray.   

¶ A joyful sight my heart's delight,  
my Diophon dear:  
Thy comely grace, I do embrace,  
with joyful cheer:  
Tantara tara tantara,  
what pleasant sound is this,  
Which brought to me with victory,  
my joy and only bliss.  
Tantara tara tantara, etc.   Diophon. 

My Queen and wife, my joy and life  
in whom I mind:  
In every part, the trustiest heart,  
that man can find.  
Tantara tara tantara,  
me thinks I hear your praise,  
Your virtues race in every place,  
which trumpet so doth raise.  
Tantara tara tantara, etc.   

¶ Now welcome home to Syria soil,  
from battered field:  
That valiantly thy foes did foil,  
with spear and shield:  
Tantara tara tantara,  
me thinks I hear it still,  
Thy sounding praise, abroad to raise,  
with trump that is most shrill,  
Tantara tara tantara, etc.   

¶ If honour and fame, O noble Dame,  
such deeds do ask:  
Then Diophon here to purchasr fame,  
hath done this task:  
Tantara tara tantara,  
returned he is again,  
To lead his life, with thee his wife,  
in joy without disdain.  
Tantara tara tantara, etc.   
Finis.  
L. G.   

¶ A proper new Song made by a Student in Cambridge,  
To the tune of I wish to see those happy days.  

I Which was once a happy wight, and hie in Fortune's grace:  
And which did spend my golden prime, in running pleasures race,  
Am now enforced of late, contrariwise to mourn,  
Since fortune joys, into annoys, my former state to turn.   

¶ The toiling ox, the horse, the ass, have time to take their rest,  
Yea all things else which Nature wrought, sometimes have joys in breast:  
Save only I and such which vexed are with pain:  
For still in tears, my life it wears, and so I must remain.   

¶ How oft have I in folded arms, enjoyed my delight,  
How oft have I excuses made, of her to have a sight?  
But now to fortunes will, I caused am to bow.  
And for to reap a hugy heap, which youthful years did sow.   

¶ Wherefore all ye which do as yet, remain and bide behind:  
Whose eyes dame beauties blazing beams, as yet did never blind.  
Example let me be, to you and other more:  
Whose heavy heart, hath felt the smart, subdued by Cupid's lore.   

¶ Take heed of gazing over much, on Damsels fair unknown:  
For oftentimes the Snake doth lie, with roses overgrowde:  
And under fairest flowers, do noisome Adders lurk:  
Of whom take heed, I thee areed: lest that thy cares they work.   

¶ What though that she doth smile on thee, perchance she doth not love:  
And though she smack thee once or twice, she thinks thee so to prove,  
And when that thou dost think, she loveth none but thee:  
She hath in store, perhaps some more, which so deceived be,   

¶ Trust not therefore the outward show beware in any case:  
For good conditions do not lie, where is a pleasant face:  
But if it be thy chance, a lover true to have:  
Be sure of this, thou shalt not miss, each thing that thou wilt crave.   

¶ And when as thou (good Reader) shalt peruse this scroll of mine:  
Let this a warning be to thee, and say a friend of thine,  
Did write thee this of love, and of a zealous mind:  
Because that he sufficiently, hath tried the female kind.   

¶ Here Cambridge now I bid farewell, adieu to Students all:  
Adieu unto the Colleges, and unto Gunuil Hall:  
And you my fellows once, pray unto jove that I  
May have relief, for this my grief, and speedy remedy.   

¶ And that he shield you everyone, from Beauty's luring looks:  
Whose bait hath brought me to my bane, and caught me from my Books:  
Wherefore, for you, my prayer shall be, to send you better grace,  
That modesty with honesty, may guide your youthful race.   
Finis  
quod Thomas Richardson, sometime Student in Cambridge.   

¶ The scoff of a Lady, as pretty as may be,  
to a young man that went a wooing:  
He went still about her, & yet he went without her,  
because he was so long a doing.  

ATtend thee, go play thee,  
Sweet love I am busy:  
my silk and twist is not yet spun:  
My Lady will blame me,  
If that the send for me,  
and find my work to be undun:  
How then?  
How shall I be set me?  
To say love did let me?  
Fie no, it will not fit me,  
It were no excuse for me.   

¶ If love were attained,  
My joys were unfeigned,  
my seam and silk will take no hold:  
Oft have I been warned,  
By others proof learned:  
hot wanton love soon waxeth cold,  
Go now:  
I say go pack thee,  
Or my needle shall prick thee:  
Go seek out Dame Idle:  
More fit for thy bridle,  
More fit for thy bridle.   

¶ Well worthy of blaming,  
For thy long detaining,  
all vain it is that thou hast done:  
Best now to be wandering,  
Go vaunt of thy winning,  
and tell thy Dame what thou hast won:  
Say this:  
Then say as I bade thee:  
That the little dog Fancy,  
Lies chaste without moving,  
And needeth no threatening,  
For fear of well beating.  
For fear of well beating.   

¶ The boy is gone lurking,  
Good Ladies be working,  
dispatch a while that we had done,  
The tide will not tarry,  
All times it doth vary,  
The day doth pass, I see the Sun,  
The frost bites fair flowers,  
Let's work at due hours,  
Haste, haste, and be merry,  
Till our needles be weary.  
Till our needles be weary,   

¶ Now Ladies be merry,  
Because you are weary:  
leave work I say, and get you home,  
Your business is slacking,  
Your lover is packing:  
your answer hath cut off his comb.  
How then?  
The fault was in him sir,  
He 〈◊〉 it so trim sir,  
Alas poor seely fellow,  
Make much of thy pillow.  
Make much of thy pillow.   
Finis.   


An answer as pretty to the scof of his Lady,  
by the youngman that came a wooing,  
Wherein he doth flout her,  
Being glad he went without her,  
Misliking both her and her doing.   

ALas Love, why chafe ye?  
Why fret ye, why sum ye? to me it seemeth very strange,  
Me thinks ye misuse me,  
So soon to refuse me,  
unless you hope of better change:  
Well, well:  
Well now, I perceive ye,  
You are mindful to leave me:  
Now sure it doth grieve me:  
That I am unworthy:  
That I am unworthy.   

¶ I mean not to let ye, nor I can not forget ye  
it will not so out of my mind:  
My love is not dainty, I see you have plenty,  
that set so little by your friend.  
Go too spin on now I pray you, I list not to stay,  
I will go play me:  
I am unfit for you, etc.  
Leave off to flout now, & prick on your clout now  
you are a dainty Dame indeed,  
And though of your taunting, I may make my vaunting  
as bad or worse than I shall speed:  
Sweet heart, though now you forsake it.  
I trust you will take it:  
and sure I spoke it, ss fine as you make it, etc.  
Now will I be trudging, without any grudging  
I am content to give you ground:  
Good reason doth bind me, to leave you behind me,  
for you are better lost than found:  
To play, go seek out Dame, pleasure:  
You are a trim treasure,  
Wise women be dainty,  
Of fools there be plenty, etc.   

¶ If I might advise ye, few words should suffice y  
e & yet you should bestow them well:  
Maids must be mannerly, not full of scurility,  
wherein I see you do excel,  
Farewell good Nicibicetur,  
God send you a sweeter,  
A lusty limb lifter, you are a trim shifter, etc.   
Finis.  
Peter Picks.   

¶ Dame Beauties reply to the Lover late at liberty: and now complaineth himself to be her captive, Entitled: Where is the life that late I led.  

THe life that erst thou ledst my friend, was pleasant to thine eyes:  
But now the loss of liberty, thou seemest to despise.  
Where then thou ioiedst thy will, now thou dost grudge in heart:  
Then thou no pain nor grief didst feel, but now thou pinest in smart.  
What moved thee unto love, express and tell the same:  
Save fancy thine, that heaped thy pain, the folly learn to blame.   

¶ For when thou freedom didst enjoy, thou gavest thyself to ease,  
And lettest self-will the ruling bear, thy fancy fond to please:  
Then stealing Cupid came, with bow and golden dart:  
He struck the stroke, at pleasure he that now doth▪ pain thy heart:  
Blame not the Gods of love, But blame thyself thou mayst:  
For freedom was disdained of thee, and bondage more thou waiest.   

¶ Who list, thou sayst. to live at rest, and freedom to possess:  
The sight of gorgeous Dames must shun, lest love do them distress:  
Thou blamest Cupid's craft, who strikes in stealing sort:  
And sets thee midst the princely Dames, of Beauty's famous fort:  
And meaning well thou sayest, as one not bend to love,  
Then Cupid he constrains thee yield, as thou thyself canst prove.   

¶ Fair Ladies looks in liberty, enlarged not thy pain:  
Ne yet the sight of gorgeous Dames, could cause thee thus complain.  
It was thyself indeed, that caused thy pining woe,  
Thy wanton will, and idle mind, caused Cupid strike the blow:  
Blame not his craft, nor us that Beauty's darlings be,  
Accuse thyself to seek thy rare, thy fancy did agree.   

¶ There is none thou sayst, that can more truly judge the case:  
Than thou that hast the wound received, by sight of Lady's face.  
Her beauty thee bewitched, thy mind that erst was free:  
Her corpse so comely framed, thou sayest, did force thee to agree:  
Thou gavest thyself it seems, her bondman to abide,  
Before that her good willingness, of thee were known and tried.  
What judgement canst thou give: how dost thou plead thy case:  
It was not she that did thee wound, although thou seest her face:  
Ne could her beauty so, inchaunt or vex thy spirits,  
Ne feature she so comely framed, could weaken so thy wits.  
But that thou mightest have showile the cause to her indeed,  
Who spares to speak, thyself dost know, doth fail of grace to speed.   

¶ By this tho●… safest, thou soughtsses the means of torments that you bear,  
By this thou wouldst men take heed, and learn of love to fear:  
For taking hold thou tellest, to sly it is too late,  
And no where canst thou shroud thyself, but Ca●…e must be thy mate.  
Though love do pleasure seem, yet plagues none such there are:  
Therefore all lovers now thou 〈◊〉, of liking to beware.   

¶ Thyself hath sought the mean and way, and none but thou alone:  
Of all the grief and care you bear, as plainly it is shown:  
Then why should men take heed, thy counsel is unfit:  
Thou sparedst to speak, and faildst to speed, thy will had banished wit.  
And now thou blamest love, and Ladies fair and free:  
And better lost than found my friend, your coward's heart we see.   
Finis.  
I.P.   

A new Courtly Sonnet, of the Lady Green sleeves.  
To the new tune of Greensleeues.  

Greensleeues was all my joy,  
Greensleeues was my delight:  
Greensleeues was my heart of gold,  
And who but Lady Greensleeues.   

ALas my love, ye do me wrong,  
to cast me off discurteously:  
And I have loved you so long,  
Delighting in your company.  
Greensleeves was all my joy,  
Greensleeves was my delight:  
Gréensléeves was my heart of gold,  
And who but Lady Greensleeves.   

¶ I have been ready at your hand,  
to grant what ever you would crave.  
I have both waged life and land,  
your love and good will for to have.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ I bought thee kerchers to thy head,  
that were wrought fine and gallantly:  
I kep●… thee both at board and bed,  
Which cost my purse well favouredly,  
Greensleeves was all my toy, etc.   

¶ I bought thee petticoats of the best,  
the cloth so fine as fine might be:  
I gave thee jewels for thy chest,  
and all this cost I spent on thee.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ Thy smock of silk, both fair and white,  
with gold embroidered gorgeously:  
Thy petticoat of Sendal right: a  
and thus I bought thee gladly.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ Thy girdle of gold so red,  
with pearls bedecked sumptuously:  
The like no other lasses had,  
and yet thou wouldst not love me,  
Greensléeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ Thy purse and eke thy gay g●…ilt knives,  
thy pincase gallant to the eye:  
No better wore the Burgess wives,  
and yet thou wouldst not love me.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ Thy crimson stockings all of silk,  
with gold all wrought above the knee,  
Thy pumps as white as was the milk,  
and yet thou wouldst no▪ love me.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ Thy gown was of the grossie green,  
thy sleeves of Satin hanging by:  
Which made thee be our harvest Queen,  
and yet thou wouldst not love me.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ Thy garters fringed with the gold,  
And silver aglets hanging by,  
Which made thee blithe for to behold,  
And yet thou wouldst not love me.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ My gayest gelding I thee gave,  
To ride where ever liked thee,  
No Lady ever was so brave,  
And yet thou wouldst not love me.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ My men were clothed all in green,  
And they did ever wait on thee:  
All this was gallant to be seen,  
and yet thou wouldst not love me.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ They set thee up, they took thee down,  
they served thee with humility,  
Thy foot might not once touch the ground,  
and yet thou wouldst not love me.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ For every morning when thou rose,  
I sent thee dainties orderly:  
To cheer thy stomach from all woes,  
and yet thou wouldst not love me.  
Greensleeves was all my joy, etc.   

¶ Thou couldst desire no earthly thing.  
But still thou hadst it readily:  
Methinks they do resound,  
with doleful tunes, me to lament,  
And in my sleep unfound, alas,  
Me thinks such dreadful things to pass:  
that out I cry in midst of dreams,  
Wherewith my tears run down as streams,  
O Lord, think I,  
She is not here that should be by:  
What chance is this,  
That I embrace that froward is?   

¶ The Lion's noble mind,  
His raging mood (you know) oft stays,  
When beasts do yield by kind,  
On them (forsooth) he never prays:  
Then sithence that I am your thrall,  
To ease my smart on you I call.  
A bloody conquest is your part,  
To kill so kind a loving heart:  
Alas remorse,  
Or presently I die perforce:  
God grant pity,  
Within your breast now planted be.   

¶ As nature hath you decked,  
with worthy gifts above the rest,  
So to your praise most great,  
Let pity dwell within your breast,  
That I may sa●…e with heart and will,  
Lo, this is she that might me kill:  
For why▪ in hand she held the knife,  
And yet (forsooth) she saved my life.  
Hey-ho, darling:  
With lusty love, now let us sing,  
Play on, Minstrel,  
My Lady is mine only girl.    

The History of Diana and Actaeon.  
To the Quarter Brawls.  

DIana and her darlings dear,  
Walked once as you shall hear:  
Through woods and waters clear, themselves to play:  
The leaves were gay and green,  
And pleasant to be seen:  
They went the trees between, i●… cool array,  
So long, that at the last they found a place, of waters full clear:  
So pure and fair a Bath never was found many a year.  
There she went fair and gent,  
Her to sport, as was her wont sort:  
In such desirous sort:,  
Thus g●…eth the report:  
Diana dainteously began herself therein to bathe  
And her body for to l●…ue,  
So curious and brave.   

¶ As they in water stood,  
Bathing their lively blood:  
Actaeon in the wood, chanced to come by:  
And vewe●… their bodies bare,  
marveling what they wear,  
And still devoid of care, on them cast his eye:  
But when the Nymphs had perceived him, aloud than they cried,  
Enclosed her, and thought to hide her skin, which he had spied:  
But too true I tell you,  
She seen was,  
For in height she did pass,  
Each Dame of her race,  
Hark then Actaeon's case:  
When Diana did perceive, where Actaeon did stand,  
She took bow in her hand,  
And to shoot she began.   

¶ As she began to shoot, Actaeon ran about,  
To hide he thought no boot, his sights were dim:  
And as he thought to scape,  
Changed was Actaeon's shape,  
Such was unlucky fate, yielded to him:  
For Diana brought it thus to pass, and played her part,  
So that poor Actaeon changed was to a ●…ugie heart,  
And did bear, nought but hair:  
In this change,  
Which is as true as strange,  
And thus did he range,  
So that his sorrows importunate,  
Had ended his life incontinent,  
Had not Lady Venus grace, Lady Lady,  
Pitied her poor servants case, My dear Lady.   

¶ For when she saw the torments strong,  
Wherewith the Knight was sore oppressed,  
Which he God knows had suffered long,  
All through this Ladies merciless,  
Of their desires she made exchange, Lady, Lady.  
And wrought a miracle most strange, My dear Lady.   

¶ So that this Lady faithfully,  
Did love this Knight above all other:  
And he unto the contrary,  
Did hate her then above all measure,  
And pitiful she did complain: lady, lady.  
Requiring favour, and might not obtain. My dear lady.   

¶ But when she saw, that in no case,  
She might unto his love attain:  
And that she could not find some grace,  
To ease her long enduring pain,  
And that his heart would not remove.  
Without all cure he died for love, My dear. Lady, ladi●…   

¶ Besides these matters marvelous,  
One other thing I will you tell:  
Of one whose name was Narcissus,  
A man whose beauty doth excel▪  
Of natures gifts he had no miss, Lady, lady  
He had the wholeof beauty's bliss, My déere.   

¶ So that out of many a far Country,  
I read of many a woman fair,  
Did come this Narcislus to see,  
Who perished when they came there,  
Through his default I say in fine, lady, lady  
Who unto love would not incline. My deer.   

¶ Whose disobedience unto love,  
When unto Venus it did appear.  
How that his heart would not remove,  
She punished him as you shall hear:  
A thing most strange forsooth it was, Lady, Lady.  
Now hearken how it came to posse, My dear.   

¶ For when he went upon a day,  
With other me in strange disguise,  
Himself forsooth he did array  
In woman's attire of a new devise,  
And over a bridge as he did go. Lady, lady.  
In the water he saw his own shadow, My.   

¶ Which when he did perceive and see,  
A Lady fair he saith it seemeth:  
〈◊〉 himself that it was he,  
And judged that it was Diana's Nymph,  
Who in the waters in such fashion, Lady, lafoy  
Did use themselves for recreation, My deer.   

¶ And through the beauty of whose looks,  
Taken he was with such fond desire,  
That after many humble suits,  
Incontinent he did aspire.  
Unto her grace him to refer,  
Trusting th● merry was in her, My dear, etc. Lady, Lady   

¶ With arms displayed he took his race,  
And leapt into the river there,  
And thought his Lady to embrace,  
●…eing of himself, d●…uoid of fear,  
And there was drowned without redress, Lady, Lady.  
His cruelty rewarded was, with such folly.   

¶ Lo, hereby you may perceive,  
How Venus can, and if she please,  
Her disobedient Subjects grieve,  
And make them drink their own disease,  
Wherefore rebel not I you wish Lady, lady.  
Lest that your chance be worse than 〈◊〉, if worse may be.   
Finis.   

The Lover complaineth the loss of his Lady  
To Cicilia Pavin.  

HEart, what makes thee thus to be,  
in extreme heaviness?  
If care do ca●…se all thy distress,  
Why seekest thou not some redress,  
to ease thy carefulness?  
Hath Cupid stroke in venery,  
Thy woeful corpse in jeopardy:  
right well then may I sob and cry,  
Till that my Mistress 〈◊〉, my faith may 〈◊〉  
Why would I cloak from her presence,  
My love and faithful diligence?  
And cowardly thus to die.  
And cowardly thus to die.   

¶ No, no, I will show my woe,  
in this calamity.  
To her whom Nature shaped so free:  
With all Diana's chastity,  
or Venus' rare beauty:  
Then shall I brace felicity,  
And live in all prosperity.  
then leave off this woe, let tears go,  
thou shalt embrace thy Lady dear 〈◊〉 joy▪  
In these thy arms so lovingly,  
As Paris did fair Helenie.  
By force of blinded boy.  
By force of blinded boy.   

¶ If Venus would grant unto me,  
such happiness:  
As she did unto Troilus,  
By help of his friend Pandarus,  
To Cre●…sids love who worse,  
Than all the women certainly:  
That ever lived naturally.  
Whose slight falsed faith, the story saith,  
Did breed by plagues, her great and sore distress,  
For she became so leprosy,  
That she did die in penury:  
Because she did transgress.  
Because she did transgress.   

¶ If she, I say, will me regard,  
in this my jeopardy,  
I will show her fidelity,  
And eke declare her courtesy,  
to Lovers far and nigh:  
O heart how happy shouldst thou be,  
When my Lady doth smile on me:  
Whose mild merry cheer,  
Will drive away fear,  
Clean from my breast, and set joy in the plac●…  
when I shall kiss so tenderly:  
Her fingers small and slenderly,  
which doth my heart solace, etc.  
Therefore ye amorous imps who burn  
so still in Cupid's fire,  
Let this the force of my retire  
Example be to your desire,  
That so to love aspire:  
For I did make deniance,  
And set her at defiance:  
Which made me full woe, it chanced so,  
Because I look at my mistress so coy:  
Therefore, when she is merrily  
Disposed, look you courteously:  
Receive her for your joy.  
Receive her for your joy.   
Finis.  
I. Tomson.   

The Lover compareth some subtle Suitors to the Hunter.  
To the tune of the Painter.  

WHen as the Hunter ●…oeth 〈◊〉, with 〈◊〉 in brace.  
The heart to hunt, and set about, with wily trace,  
He doth it more to see and view,  
Her wiliness (I tell you true.)  
Her trips and skips, now here, now there,  
With squats and flats, which hath no peer.   

¶ More than to win or get the game to bear away:  
He is not greedy of the same, (thus Hunters say:  
So some men hunt by hot desire,  
To Venus' Dames, and do require  
With favour to have her, or else they will die,  
they love her, & prove her, and wots ye why?   

¶ Forsooth to see her subtleness, & wily way,  
When they (God knows) mean nothing less than they do say:  
For when they see they may her win,  
They leave then where they did begin  
. they pra●…e and make the matter nice,  
And leave her in fools paradise.   

¶ Wherefore of such (good Lady now) wisely beware,  
Lest flinging fancies in their brow, do breed you care:  
And at the first give them the check,  
Lest they at last give you the geck,  
And scornfully disdain ye then,  
In faith there are such kind of men.   

¶ But jam none of those indeed,  
believe me now:  
I am your man if you me need,  
I make a vow:  
To serve you without doubleness:  
With fervent heart my own mistress,  
Demand me, command me, what please ye, and when,  
I will be still ready, as I am true 〈◊〉.    

A new Sonnet of Pyramus and Thisbie.  
To the, Down right Squire.  

YOu Dames (I say) that climb the mount of Helicon,  
Come on with me, and give account, what hath been done:  
Come tell the chance ye Muse's all, and doleful news,  
Which on these Lovers did befall, which I accuse.  
In Babylon not long agone, a noble Prince did dwell:  
whose daughter bright dimmed each one's sight, so far she did excel.   

¶ An other Lord of high revowne, who had a son:  
And dwelling there within the town, great love begun●…e:  
Pyramus this noble Knight,  
I tell you true:  
Who with the love of Thisbie bright, did cares renew:  
It came to pass, their secrets was, beknowne unto them both:  
And then in mind, they place do find, where they their love unclothe.   

¶ This love they use long tract of time, till it befell:  
At last they promised to meet at prime, by Minus well:  
Where they might lovingly embrace, in loves delight:  
That he might see his Thisbe's face, and she his sight▪  
In joyful case, she approached the place, where she her Pyramus  
Had thought to viewed, but was renewed, to them most dolorous.   

¶ Thus while she stays for Pyramus, there did proceed:  
Out of the wood a Lion fierce, made Thisbie dréed:  
And as in haste she fled away, her Mantle fine:  
The Lion tore in stead of pray, till that the time  
That Pyramus proceeded thus, and see how lion tore  
The Mantle this of Thisbie his, he ●…esperately doth far.   

¶ For why he thought the lion had, fair Thisbie slain.  
And then the beast with his bright blade, he slew certain:  
Then made he moon and said alas, (O wretched wight)  
Now art thou in a woeful case for Thisbie bright:  
Oh Gods above, my faithful love shall never fail this need:  
For this my breath by fatal death, shall weave Atropos thread.   

¶ Then from his sheath he drew his blade, and to his heart  
He thrust the point, and life did vade, with painful smart:  
Then Thisbie she from cabin came with pleasure great,  
And to the well apace she ran, there for to treat:  
And to discuss, to Pyramus of all her former fears.  
And when slain she, found him truly, she shed forth bitter 〈◊〉.   

¶ When sorrow great that she had made, she took in hand  
The bloody knife, to end her life, by fatal hand.  
You Ladies all, peruse and see, the faithfulness,  
How these two Lovers did agree, to die in distress:  
You Muses wail, and do not fail, but still do you lament:  
These lovers twain, who with such pain, did die so well content.   
Finis.  
I. Tomson.   

A Sonnet of a Lover in the praise of his lady.  
To Calen o Custure me: sung at every lines end.  

When as I view your comely grace, Ca etc.  
Your golden hairs, your angel's face:  
Your azured veins much like the skies,  
Your silver teeth your crystal eyes.  
Your Coral lips, your crimson cheeks,  
That Gods and men both love and leeks.   

¶ Your pretty mouth with divers gifts,  
Which driveth wise men to their shifts:  
So brave, so fine, so trim, so young,  
With heavenly wit and pleasant tongue,  
That Pallas though she did excel,  
Can frame ne tell a tale so well.   

¶ Your voice so sweet, your neck so white,  
your body fine and small in sight:  
Your fingers long so nimble be,  
To utter forth such harmony,  
As all the Muses for a space:  
To sit and hear do give you place.   

¶ Your pretty foot with all the rest,  
That may be seen or may be guessed:  
Doth bear such shape, that beauty may  
Give place to thee and go her way:  
And Paris now must change his doom,  
For Venus lo must give thee room.   

¶ Whose gleams doth heat my heart as fire,  
Although I burn, yet would I nigher:  
Within myself then can I say:  
The night is gone, behold the day:  
Behold the star so clear and bright,  
As dims the sight of Phoebus' light:   

¶ Whose fame by pen for to descrive,  
Doth pass each wight that is alive:  
Then how dare I with boldened face,  
Presume to crave or wish your grace?  
And thus amazed as I stand,  
Not feeling sense, nor moving hand.   

¶ My soul with silence moving sense,  
Doth wish of God with reverence,  
Long life, and virtue you possess:  
To match those gifts of worthiness,  
And love and pity may be spied,  
To be your chief and only guide.    

¶ A proper Sonnet, Entitled, Maid, will yond marry.  
To the Black Almain.  

MAid, will you marry? I pray sir tarry,  
I am not disposed to wed a:  
For he that shall have me, will never deny me  
he shall have my maidenhed a.  
Why then you will not wed me?  
No sure sire I have sped me,  
You must go seek some other wight,  
That better may your heart delight.  
For I am sped I tell you true,  
believe me it gréeus me, I may not have you,  
To wed you & bed you as a woman should be   

¶ For if I could, be sure I would,  
consent to your desire:  
I would not doubt, to bring about,  
each thing you would require:  
But promise now is made,  
Which cannot be staid:  
It is a woman's honesty,  
To keep her promise faithfully.  
And so I do mean till death to do.  
Consider and gather, that this is true:  
Choose it, and use it, the honester you.   

¶ But if you seek, for to misléeke,  
with this that I have done:  
Or else disdain, that I so plain  
this talk with you have begone:  
Farewell I will not let you,  
He 〈◊〉 well that gets you.  
And sure I think your other friend,  
Will prove a Cuckold in the end:  
But he will take heed if he be wise,  
To watch you & catch you, with Argus' eyes,  
Besetting and letting your wont guise.   

¶ Although the Cat doth wink a while,  
yet sure she is not blind:  
It is the way for to beguile,  
the Mice that run behind:  
And if she see them runniug,  
Then straightway she is coming:  
Upon their head she claps her foot,  
To strive with her it is no boot.  
The seely poor Mice dare never play,  
She catcheth and snatcheth them every day,  
Yet whip they, & skip they, when she is away.   

¶ And if perhaps they fall in trap,  
to death then must they yield:  
They were better than, to have kept their den  
than stray abroad the field:  
But they that will be ranging,  
Shall soon repent their changing:  
And so shall you ere it be long,  
Wherefore remember well my song:  
And do not snuff though I be plain,  
But cherily, merrily, take the same.  
For huffing & snuffing deserveth blame.   

¶ For where you say you must obey,  
the promise you have made,  
So sure as I will never fly,  
from that I have said:  
Therefore to them I leave you,  
Which gladly will receive you:  
You must go choose some other mate,  
According to your own estate.  
For I do mean to live in rest,  
Go seek you, and léek you an other guest,  
And choose him, and use him, as you like best.    

The joy of Virginity:  
to, The Gods of love  

I judge and find, how God doth mind,  
to furnish, to furnish  
his heavenly throne above.  
With virgin's pure, this am I sure,  
without miss, without miss:  
with other Saints he doth love:  
It is allowed as you may read,  
And eke avowed by Paul indeed,  
Virginity is accepted,  
a thing high in God's sight:  
Though marriage is selected,  
a thing to be most right:  
yet must I praise Virginity,  
For I would feign a Virgin be.   

¶ You virgins pure, yourselves assure,  
and credit, and credit:  
great joy you shall possess,  
Which I (God knows) cannot disclose,  
nor spread it, nor spread it,  
ne yet by pen express.  
Nor half the joys that you shall find,  
I can not judge for you assigned:  
When hence your ghost shall yielded be,  
into the throne of bliss:  
In chaste and pure virginity,  
for thought or deed y wisse:  
Where you shall reign, with God on high  
For evermore eternally.   

¶ And when doubtless, you shall possess,  
with jesus, with jesus,  
these joys celestial.  
Then Lady Fame, will blaze your name,  
amongst us, amongst us,  
which then on earth reign shall.  
She will resound in every coast,  
By trumpet sound, and will you boast?  
So that although you do departed  
This mortal life so vain:  
Your chastity in every heart,  
by memory shall remain.  
But hard it is, I say no more,  
To find an hundredth in a score.   
Finis.   

¶ A warning for Wooers, that they be not over hasty, nor deceived with women's beauty.  
To, Salisbury plain.  

YE loving worms come learn of me  
The plagues to leave that linked be:  
The grudge, the grief, the great annoy,  
The fickle faith, the fading joy:  
in time, take heed,  
In fruitless soil sow not thy seed:  
buy not, with cost,  
the thing that y●…elds but labour lost.   

¶ If Cupid's dart do chance to light,  
So that affection dims thy sight,  
Then raise up reason by and by,  
With skill thy heart to fortify  
Where is a breach,  
Oft times too late doth come the Leech:  
Sparks are put out,  
when furnace flames do rage about.   

¶ Thine own delay must win the field,  
When lust doth lead thy heart to yield:  
When steed is stolen, who makes all fast,  
May go on foot for all his haste:  
In time shut gate,  
For had I witted, doth come too late,  
Fast bind, fast find,  
Repentance always cometh behind.   

¶ The Sirens times oft time beguiles,  
So doth the tears of Crocodiles:  
But who so learns Ulysses' lore,  
May pass the seas, and win the shore.  
Stop ears, stand fast,  
Through Cupid's trips, thou shalt him cast:  
Fly baits, shun hooks,  
Be thou not snared with lovely looks.   

¶ Where Venus hath the mastery,  
There love hath lost her liberty:  
where love doth win the victory,  
The fort is sacked with cruelty.  
First look, then leap,  
In surety so your shins you keep:  
The snake doth sting,  
That lurking lieth with hissing.  
Where Cupid's fort hath made a way,  
There grave advise doth bear no sway,  
Where Love doth reign and rule the roast,  
There reason is exiled the coast:  
Like all, love none, except ye use discretion.  
First try, them trust, be not deceived with sinful lust,   

¶ Mark Priam's son, his fond devise  
When Venus did obtain the price:  
For Pallas skill and juno's strength,  
He chose that bred his bane at length.  
choose wit, leave will, let Helen be with Paris still:  
Amis goeth all, where fancy forceth fools to fall.   

¶ Where was there found a happier wight,  
Than Troilus was till love did light?  
What was the end of Romeus.  
Did he not die like Pyramus  
who baths in bliss? let him be mindful of Iphis  
who seeks to please, may ridden be like Hercules.   

¶ I loath to tell the peevish brawls,  
And fond delights of Cupid's thrawles,  
Like momish mates of Midas mood,  
They gape to get that doth no good:  
Now down, now up as tapsters use to toss the Cup  
One breedeth joy, another breeds as great annoy   

¶ Some love for wealth, and some for hue,  
And none of both these loves are true.  
For when the Mil hath lost her sails,  
Then must the Miller lose his veils:  
Of grass cometh hay,  
And flowers fair will soon decay:  
Of ripe cometh rotten,  
In age all beauty is forgotten.  
Some loveth too high, and some too low,  
And of them both great griefs do grow,  
And some do love the common sort:  
And common folk use common sport.  
Look not too high,  
Lest that a chip fall in thine eye:  
But hie or low,  
Ye may be sure she is a shrew.   

¶ But sirs, I use to tell no tales,  
Each fish that swims doth not bear scales,  
In every hedge I find not thorns:  
Nor every beast doth carry horns:  
I say not so,  
That every woman causeth woe:  
That were too broad,  
Who loveth not venom must shun the toad.   

¶ Who useth still the truth to tell,  
May blamed be though he say well:  
Say crow is white, and snow is black,  
Lay not the fault on woman's back,  
Thousands were good,  
But few scaped drowning in noah's flood:  
Most are well bend,  
I must say so, lest I be shent.   
Finis.   

¶ An excellent Song of an outcast Lover.  
To, All in a Garden green.  

MY fancy did I fix, in faithful form and frame:  
in hope there should no blustering blast have power to move the same.   

¶ And as the Gods do know, and world can witness bear:  
I never served other Saint, nor Idol otherwhere.   

¶ But one, and that was she, whom I in heart did shrine:  
And made account that precious pearl, and jewel rich was mine.   

¶ No toil, nor labour great, could weary me her●…in:  
For still I had a jasons heart, the golden fleece io win.   

¶ And sure my suit was heard, I spent no time in vain:  
A grant of friendship at her hand, I got to quite my pain.  
With solemn vow and oath. was knit the True-love knot,  
And friendly did we treat of love, as place and time we got.   

¶ Now would we send our sighs, as far as they might go,  
Now would we work with open signs, to blaze our inward wo.   

¶ Now rings and tokens too, renewed our friendship still,  
And each device that could be wrought, expressed our plain goodwill,  
True meaning went withal, it cannot be denied:  
Performance of the promise past, was hoped for of each side:   

¶ And looked for out of hand: such vows did we two make,  
As God himself had present been, record thereof to take.   

¶ And for my part I swear, by all the Gods above,  
I never thought of other friend, nor sought for other love.   

¶ The same consent in her, I saw full oft appear,  
If eyes could see, or head could judge, or ear had power to hear.   

¶ Yet lo words are but wind, all other new come guest,  
Hath won her favour (as I fear) as fancies rise in breast.  
Her friend that well deserves, is out of countenance quite,  
She makes the game to see me shoot, while others hit the white.  
He way well beat the bush, as many thousands do:  
And miss the birds, and haply lose his part of feathers too.   

¶ He hops without the ring, yet danceth on the trace,  
When some come after soft and fair, a heavy hobbling pace.   

¶ In these unconstant days, such troth these women have:  
As wavering as the aspen leaf they are, so God me sane.   

¶ For no deserts of men are weighed, what ere they be:  
For in a mood their minds are led with new delights we see.   

¶ The guiltless goeth to wrack, the gorgeous peacocks gay:  
They do esteem upon no cause, and turn their friends away.   

¶ I blame not all for one, some flowers grow by the weeds,  
Some are as sure as lock and key, and just of words and deeds.   

¶ And yet of one I wail, of one I cry and plain:  
And for her sake shall never none, so nip my heart again:   

¶ If for offence or fault, I had been flung at heel:  
The less had been my bitter smart, and gnawing grief I feel.   

¶ But being once retained, a friend by her consent:  
And after that to be disdained, when best good will I meant,   

¶ I take it nothing well, for if my power could show,  
With Alarm bell and open cry, the world should thoroughly know.    

The complaint of a woman Lover,  
To the tune of, Raging love.  

THough wisdom would I should refrain,  
My heaped cares here to unfold:  
Good Ladies yet my inward pain,  
So pricketh me I have no hold:  
But that I must my grief bewray,  
Bedewed in tears with doleful tunes,  
That you may hear, and after say,  
Lo, this is she whom love consumes.   

¶ My grief doth grow by my desire.  
To fancy him that ●…ormes my woe:  
He nought regards my flaming fire,  
Alas why doth he serve me so?  
Whose feigned tears I did believe,  
And wept to hear his wai●…ing voice,  
But how, alas, too soon I preeve,  
All men are false, there is no choice.   

¶ Haddit ever woman such reward,  
At any time for her goodwill?  
Had ever woman hap so hard,  
So cruelly for love to spill?  
What paps (alas) did give him food,  
That thus unkindly works my woe?  
What beast is of so cruel mood,  
to hate the heart that loves 〈◊〉▪   

¶ Like as the simple 〈◊〉 tr●…e,  
An mourning 〈◊〉 ●… spend the day.  
My daily cares night ●…ooth ●…enew,  
To thin●…e how he did 〈◊〉 betray:  
And when my weary ●…ommes wol●… re●…t,  
My 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 hath dreadful 〈◊〉,  
Thus 〈◊〉 gree●…es my heart doth 〈◊〉  
That 〈◊〉▪ 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 run down like 〈◊〉▪   

¶ And yet, full oft it doth me good,  
To 〈◊〉 the place where he hath been,  
To kiss the ground whereon he stood,  
When he (alas) my love did win.  
To kiss the Bed whereon we laye●…  
Now may I think unto my pain▪  
O 〈◊〉 place full oft I say:  
Render to me my love again,   

¶ But all is lost that may not be,  
Another doth possess my right▪  
His cruel heart, d●…sdaineth me,  
New love hath put the old, to flight:  
He loves to see my watered eyes,  
and laughs to see how I do pine:  
No words can well my ●…oes comprise,  
alas what grief is like to mine?   

¶ You comely 〈◊〉 beware by me,  
To r●…e sweet words of fickle trust:  
For I may well example ●…e,  
How filled talk oft proves unjust  
But 〈◊〉 deceit 〈◊〉 to my pay,  
Good Ladies help my 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
That you may here and after say:  
Lo●… this is she whom love consumes▪    

A proper sonnet, Entitled: I smile to see how you devise.  
To any pleasant tune.  

I Smile to see how you devise,  
New masking nets my eyes to blear:  
Yourself you cannot so disguise:  
●…ut as you are, you must appear.   

¶ your privy winks at board I see,  
And how you set your roving mind:  
yourself you cannot hide from me,  
Although I wink, I am not blind.   

¶ The secret sighs and feigned cheer,  
That oft doth pain thy careful breast:  
To me right plainly doth appear,  
I see in whom thy heart doth rest.   

¶ And though thou makest a feigned vow,  
That love no more thy heart should nip,  
yet think I know as well as thou,  
The fickle helm doth guide the ship.   

¶ The Salamander in the fire,  
By course of kind doth bathe his limbs:  
The floating Fish taketh his desire,  
In running streams whereas he swims.   

¶ So thou in change dost take delight,  
Full well I know thy slippery kind:  
In vain thou seemst to dim my sight,  
Thy rolling eyes bewrayeth thy mind.   

¶ I see him smile ●…hat doth possess  
Thy love which once I honoured most:  
If he be wise, he may well guess,  
●…hy lo●…e soon 〈◊〉, will soon ●…e 〈◊〉.   

¶ And ●…ith thou canst no man entice,  
That he should still love thee alone:  
Thy beauty now hath lost her price,  
I see thy savoury scent is gone.   

¶ Therefore leave off thy wont play,  
But, as thou art, thou wilt appear,  
Unless thou canst devise a way,  
To dark the Sun that shines so clear.   

¶ And keep thy friend that thou hast won,  
In truth to him thy love supply,  
Lest he at length as I have done,  
Take off thy Bells and let thee flee.    

A Sonnet of two faithful Lovers, exhorting one another to be constant.  
To the tune of Kypascie.  

THe famous Prince of Macedon,  
whose wars m●…rest his worthy 〈◊〉  
Triumph●…n not so, when he had won  
By conquest great, immortal fame,  
As I re●…oice, reioi●…e,  
For thee, my choice, with heart and voic●…,  
Since thou art mine,  
Whom, long to love, the Gods assign.   

¶ Th●… secret flames of this my love,  
The stars had wrought ere I was born●…,  
Whose 〈◊〉 force my heart doth move,  
And eke my will so sure hath sworn▪  
that Fortunes lore, no more,  
though I therefore, did life abhor:  
Shall never make,  
Forgetful dews my heat to slake.   

¶ If that I false my faith to the●…,  
Or seek ●…o change for any new:  
If thoughts appear so ill in me,  
If thou thy life shall justly ●…ew,  
Such 〈◊〉 of woe, of woe:  
As friend or 〈◊〉, might to me show:  
Be●…de 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Or must if it may ●…y to man.   

¶ Then let us joy in this ou●…●…oue:  
In spi●…e of Fortune's wrath 〈◊〉 〈◊〉:  
,  
One ●…oue in 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 still appear:  
 
Pi●…sus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 my ●…ne T●…isbie,  
So thou again▪  
.    

A proper new Ditty Entitled 〈◊〉 Love and all his laws.  
To 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…mber me.  

SUch 〈◊〉 from thy love vp●… yield,  
Such broken 〈◊〉, such hope ●…sure,  
Thy call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 hath me 〈◊〉.  
That I vn●…th ●…an well i●…dure:  
But 〈◊〉 (〈◊〉) as I have ●…use,  
F●… upon Love and all his ●…awes.   

¶ Like 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and g●…ue,  
〈◊〉 St●…e wa●…s, kéep●… from his love,  
And as the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
A thousand 〈◊〉, for th●…e I ●…oue,  
Yet thou a ●…uelt ●…igers▪ 〈◊〉,  
All 〈◊〉 the heart, whom thou mayst h●…lp.   

¶ A craggy ●…ocke, thy Cra●…e, was,  
And Tiger's milk s●…e was thy food.  
●…herby ●…ame Nature br●…ought to pass,  
That like the Nu●…se should be thy 〈◊〉:  
〈◊〉 and vn●…inde, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and fell,  
to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that loves th●…e well.   

¶ The Cro●…ile with 〈◊〉 tears,  
The 〈◊〉 ●…ot so 〈◊〉 〈◊〉:  
As thou 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
 
that I may 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
UUo worth the 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 ●…o love.   

¶ Si●… th●…●…ast 〈◊〉 t●… work my 〈◊〉  
And h●…st 〈◊〉 will my wealth to way:  
Farewell ●…kinde, I ●…ill keep ●…acke▪  
Such toys as may my health decay:  
and 〈◊〉 will cry as I have cause.  
Fie upon Love and all his laws.    

The Lover being wound●… with his 〈◊〉 beut●… requireth 〈◊〉 ●…o  
To the tune of Apelle●.  

THe 〈◊〉 sparks of th●…se two eyes,  
my wounded heart hath ●…et on 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
 
,  
with sighs and 〈◊〉 tears I 〈◊〉  
my dear on me some pity han●….   

¶ In 〈◊〉 thee, I 〈◊〉 such joy,  
As one that sought his quiet rest:  
Until I felt the 〈◊〉 ●…oy,  
Ay ●…lickring in my captive breast:  
Since that time lo, in d●…epe despair,  
all void of joy, my time I wear.   

¶ The woeful prisoner Palemon.  
And Troilus eke king Pyramus son,  
Constrained by love did never moon:  
As I my dear for thee have done.  
Let pity then requite my pains,  
My life and death in thee remains.  
¶ If constant love may reap●… his hire,  
And faith unfeigned may purchase:  
Great hope I have to my desire.  
Pour gentle heart will grant me g●…ace,  
Till then (my dear) in few ward ●… plain,  
In pensive thoughts I shall remain.    

The lamentation of a woman being wrongfully de●…med.  
To the tune of Damon & Pi●…ias.  

YOu Ladies falsely déemd, of any fault or crime:  
Command your pensive hearts to help this ●…olefull tune of mine:  
For spiteful men there are, that faults would fain e●…pie:  
Alas, what heart would hear their talk, but willingly would die.   

¶ I wail o●…t times in woe, and curse mine hour of birth,  
Such slanderous pangs do me oppress, when others joy in mirth:  
Belike it was ordained to be my destiny.  
Alas what heart would hear their talk, etc.   

¶ A thousand good women, have guiltless been accused:  
For very spite, although that they, their bodies never abused:  
the godly Susamna accused was falsely alas etc.   

¶ The poisoned Pancal ier, full falsely did accuse  
The good Duchess of Savoy, ●…ecause she did refuse.  
To grant unto his love, that was so ungodly. Alas what, etc.   

¶ Such false dissembling men, stung with Allecto's dart:  
Must needs have place to spit their spite, upon some guiltless heart:  
Therefore, I must be pleased, that they triumph on me, Alas, etc.   

¶ Therefore, Lord, I thee pray, the like death down to send,  
Upon these false suspected men, or else their minds t'amend:  
As thou hast done ●…ofore, unto these persons three. Alas what, etc.    

A proper Song, Entitled: Fain would I have a pretty thing to give unto my Lady.  
To the tune of lusty Gallant.  

¶ Feign would I have a pretty thing,  
to give unto my Lady:  
I name no thing, nor I mean no thing,  
But as pretty a thing as may be.   

Twenty journeys would I make,  
and twenty ways would high me,  
To make adventure for her sake,  
to set so●…e matter by me:  
But I would ●…aine have a pretty thing, 〈◊〉,  
I name nothing, nor I mean nothing, etc.   

¶ Some do long for pretty knacks,  
and some for strange devices:  
God send me that my Lady lacks.  
I care not what the price is, thus ●…aine 〈◊〉   

¶ Some ●…oe here, and some go there,  
where ga●…es ●…e not geason:  
And I go gaping every where,  
but still come out of season. Yet feign, etc.   

¶ I walk the town, and tread the street,  
in every corner seeking:  
The pretty thing I cannot meet,  
●…hats for my Lady's liking. feign, 〈◊〉   

¶ The Merce●…s ●…ull me ●…oing by,  
the Silkie wives say what lack 〈◊〉  
The thing you have not, then say I  
ye foolish fóoles, go pack ●…e. But fai●… 〈◊〉   

¶ It is not all the Silk in Cheap,  
nor all the golden treasure:  
Nor twen●…e Bushels on a heap,  
〈◊〉 ●…o my Lady ●…e azure. Put ●…aine, etc.   

¶ The gravers of the golden shows,  
with jewels ●…o 〈◊〉 me.  
The 〈◊〉 in the shapes that ●…owes,  
they do nothing but let me: But feign, etc.   

¶ But were it in the wit of man,  
by any means to make it.  
I c●…ld for Money buy it than,  
and say, fai●…e 〈◊〉 ●…ake it. Thus, fain, etc.   

¶ O Lady, what ●…●…ke is this:  
that my 〈◊〉 willin●…●…isse t●…:  
To find what pre●…ie thing it is,  
that my good Lady 〈◊〉.  
Thus fain would I have had this preti thing  
to give unto my Lady 〈◊〉  
 
   

A proper wooing Song in●…tuled: Ma●…de 〈◊〉 a love me: ye or no?  
To the tune of the M●…rchaunts Daug●…ter went over the ●…elde.  

My ●…yde will ye love me yea or no?  
tell me the troth, and let me go●….  
It can be no ●…esse th●…n a sinful deed,  
trust me truly.  
To ●…inger a Lover that looks to 〈◊〉,  
in due time 〈◊〉.   

¶ ●…ou Maids that think your 〈◊〉 as ●…ne,  
As Venus and all the Ma●…es 〈◊〉  
The father himself when he first made man  
trust me truly:  
Made you for his help when the world began  
in due time duly.   

¶ Then sith Gods will was even so.  
Why should you disdain you Lover the▪  
But rather with a willing heart,  
Love him truly?  
For in so doing, you do but your part,  
Let reason rule ye.   

¶ Consider (sweet) what sighs and sobs,  
Do nip my heart with cruel throbs,  
And all (my deer) for the love of you,  
Trust me truly:  
But I hope that you will soon mercy show,  
In due time duly.   

¶ If that you do my case well way,  
And show some sign whereby I may  
Have some good hope of your good grace,  
Trust me truly:  
I count myself in a blessed case,  
Let reason rule ye.   

¶ And for my part, whilst I do live,  
To love you most faithfully, my hand I give,  
Forsaking all other, for your sweet sake,  
Trust me truly:  
In token whereof, my troth I betake,  
to yourself most duly.   

¶ And though for this time we must departed,  
yet keep you this ring true token of my heart,  
Till time do serve, we meet again,  
Let reason rule ye.  
When an answer of comfort, I trust to obtain,  
In due time duly.  
Now must I departed with sighing tears,  
With sobbing heart and burning ears:  
Pale in the face, and faint as I may,  
trust me truly:  
But I hope our next meeting, a joyful day,  
in due time duly.    

The painful plight of a Lover oppressed with the beautiful looks of his Lady.  
To the tune of, I loved her over well.  

WHen as thy eyes, the wretched spies  
did breed my cause of care:  
And sisters three did full agree,  
my fatal thread to spare.  
Then let these words engraven be,  
on tomb whereas I lie,  
That here lies one whom spiteful love,  
hath caused for to die.   

¶ Sometimes I spend the night to end,  
in dolours and in woe:  
Sometime again unto my pain,  
my chiefest joy doth grow.  
When as in mind, thy shape I find,  
as fancy doth me tell:  
Whom now I know, as proof, doth show  
I loved thee over well.   

¶ How oft within my wreathed arm,  
desired I to fold:  
Thy Crystal corpse, of whom I joyed,  
more dearer than of gold,  
But now dosdaome, doth breed my pain,  
and thou ●…anst not deny:  
But that I loved thee over well:  
that caused me to d●…e.  
The 〈◊〉 that serut●… his 〈◊〉 will,  
in 〈◊〉 here and there▪  
The moiling Horse, that labours still,  
his burden great to 〈◊〉  
In ●…ew of pain●…▪ 〈◊〉 again,  
of him which did him owe:  
As Nature's hest, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and lea●…t  
them thank of 〈◊〉 of to show●….   

¶ The Lion and the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
as Nature doth then 〈◊〉:  
For 〈◊〉 like love 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 gain:  
in Story's 〈◊〉 find::  
Those 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 both 〈◊〉 & ●…ame,  
of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉:  
But thy reply, willis 〈◊〉 to ●…ie.  
that loved thee over 〈◊〉.   

¶ Therefore, my dear 〈◊〉 Darling 〈◊〉,  
ensample 〈◊〉 〈◊〉▪  
Which equally wi●…h 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
their loving 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
And give him 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 death we  
 
 
which loved 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   

¶ Then shall thy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 same,  
where ever that they go:  
And wish for ay, as for thy pay,  
all Nestor's years to know:  
And I no less than all the rest,  
should wish thee health for aye:  
Because thou hast heard my request,  
and saved me from decay.    

A faithful vow of two constant Lovers  
To the new Rogero.  

SHall distance part our love,  
or daily choice of change?  
Or spirits below, or Gods above,  
have power▪ to ma●…e us strange:   

¶ No nothing here on earth,  
that kind hath made or wrought,  
Shall force me to forget.  
goodwill so dearly bought,   

¶ And for my part I vow,  
to serve for term of life:  
Which promise may compare with her,  
which was Ulysses wife.   

¶ Which vow if I 〈◊〉 break,  
let vengeance on me fall,  
Each plague that on the earth may reign,  
I ask not one, but all.   

¶ Though time may breed suspect,  
to fill your heart with ●…oyes:  
And absence may a 〈◊〉 breed,  
to let your wished joys:   

¶ Yet think I have a 〈◊〉,  
and honesty to keep:  
And weigh the time your love hath dwelled,  
within my heart so deep.   

¶ And poise the words I spoke,  
and mark my countenance then:  
And let not slip no earnest sigh,  
if thou remember can.   

¶ At least forget no tears,  
that trickled down my face:  
And mark how oft I wrong your hand,  
and blushed all the space.   

¶ Remember how I swore,  
and struck therewith my breast:  
In witness when thou partest me fro,  
my heart with thee should rest.   

¶ Think on the eager looks,  
full loath to leave thy sight,  
That made the signs when that she list,  
to like no other wight.   

¶ If this be out of thought,  
yet call to mind again,  
The busy suit, the much ado,  
the labour and the pain,   

¶ That at the first I had,  
●…re thy good will I gate:  
And think how for thy love alone,  
I purchase partly hate.   

¶ But all is one with me,  
my heart so settled is:  
No friend, nor foe, nor want of wealth,  
shall never hurt in this.   

¶ Be constant now therefore,  
and faithful to the end?  
Be careful how we both may do,  
to be each others friend.   

¶ Wish free and clean consent,  
two hearts in one I knit:  
Which for my part, I vow to keep,  
and promise not to flit,   

¶ Now let this vow be kept,  
exchange thy heart for mine:  
So shall two hearts be in one breast,  
and both of them be thine.    

A sorrowful Sonnet,  made by M. George Mannington, at Cambridge Castle. 
To the tune of Labandala Shot.  

I Wail in woe, I plunge in pain,  
with sorrowing sobs, I do complain,  
With wallowing waves I wish to die,  
I languish sore whereas I lie,  
In fear I faint in hope I hold,  
With ruth I run, I was too bold:  
As luckless lot assigned me,  
in dangerous dale of destiny:  
Hope bids me smile, Fear bids me weep,  
My silly soul thus Care doth keep,   

¶ Yea too too late I do repent,  
the youthful years that I have spent,  
The reach less race of careless kind,  
which hath bewitched my woeful mind.  
Such is the chance, such is the state,  
Of those that trust too much to fate.  
No braggiug boast of gentle blood,  
What so he be, can do thee good:  
No wit, no strength, nor beauty's hue,  
No friendly suit can death eschew.   

¶ The dismal day hath had his will,  
And justice seeks my life to spill:  
Revengement craves by rigorous law,  
Whereof I little stood in a we:  
The doleful doom to end my life,  
Bedecked with care and worldly strife:  
And frowuing judge hath given his doom.  
O gentle death thou art welcome:  
The loss of life, I do not fear.  
Then welcome death, the end of care.   

¶ O prisoners poor, in dungeon deep,  
Which pass the night in slumbering sleep:  
Well may you rue your youthful race.  
And now lament your cursed case,  
Content yourself with your estate,  
I mpute no shame to fickle fate:  
With wrong attempts, increase no wealth,  
Regard the state of prosperous health:  
And think on me, when I am dead:  
Whom such delights have lewdly led.   

¶ My friend and parents, where ever you be  
Full little do you think on me:  
My mother mild, and dame so dear:  
Thy loving child, is fettered here:  
Would God I had, I wish too late,  
Been bred and borne of meaner estate:  
Or else, would God my reckless ear,  
Had been obedient for to hear,  
Your sage advice and counsel true:  
But in the Lord parents adieu.   

¶ You valiant hearts of youthful train,  
Which heard my heavy heart complain:  
A good example take by me,  
Which run the race where ever you be:  
trust not too much to elbow blade,  
nor yet to fortunes fickle trade.  
Hoist not your sails no more in wind,  
Lest that some rock, you chance to find,  
or else be driven to Lybia land,  
whereas the Bark may sink in sand.   

¶ You students all that present be,  
To view my fatal destiny,  
would God I could requite your pain,  
wherein you labour, although in vain,  
if mighty God would think it good,  
to spare my life and vital blood,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 your proffered courtesy,  
●●…ld remain most steadfastly,  
Your servant true in deed and word,  
But welcome death as please the Lord.   

¶ Yea welcome death, the end of woe,  
And farewell life, my fatal so:  
Yea welcome death, the end of strife,  
Adieu the care of mortal life,  
For though this life doth fleet away,  
In heaven I hope to live for ay:  
A place of joy and perfect rest,  
Which Christ hath purchased for the best:  
Till that we meet in heaven most highest:  
Adieu, farewell in jesus Christ.    

A proper Sonnet, of an unkind Damsel, to to her faithful Lover.  
To, the nine Muses.  

THe ofter that I view and see,  
That pleasant face and fair beauty,  
whereto my heart is bound:  
The near my Mistress is to me,  
My health is farthest off I see:  
and fresher is my wound:  
Like as the flame doth quench by fire,  
or streams consume by reign,  
So doth the sight that I desire,  
appease my grief and pain:  
Like a fly that doth high,  
and haste iuto the fire:  
So in brief, finds her grief,  
that thought to sport aspire.   

¶ When first I saw those Crystal 〈◊〉  
I little thought on beauty's beams:  
sweet venom to have found,  
But wilful will did prick me forth,  
Perforce to take my grief in worth,  
that caused my mortal wound:  
And Cupid blind compelled me so,  
my fruitless hope to hide?  
Wherein remained my bitter woe:  
h●…hus still he did me guide▪  
Than his dart, to my heart,  
he slung with cruel fist:  
Whose poison fell, I know right well,  
no lover may resist.   

¶ Thus vainly still, I frame my suit,  
Of ill sown seeds, such is the fruit,  
experience doth it show:  
The fault is hers the pain is mine,  
And thus my sentence I define,  
I happened on a shrew:  
And now beware, ye youngmen all,  
Example take by me:  
Lest beauties bait in Cupid's thrall,  
do catch you privily:  
So stay you, I pray you,  
and mark you my great wrong,  
Forsaken, not taken,  
thus end I now my song.    

The Lover complaineth the absence of his Lady, wisheth for death.  
To, the new Almain.  

SIth spiteful spite hath spied her time,  
my wished joys to end:  
And drooping dread hath driven me now  
from my new chosen friend:  
I can but wail the want,  
of this my former joy:  
Sith spiteful force hath sought so long,  
my bliss for to annoy.   

¶ But though it be our chance  
asunder for to be,  
My heart in pawn till we do meet,  
Shall still remain with thee:  
And then we shall 〈◊〉,  
our sugared pleasures passed:  
And love that love, that seeks no change,  
whilst life in us do last.   

¶ Perhaps my absence may,  
or else some other let:  
By choi●…e of change, cause thee my dear,  
out former love forget:  
And thou renounce the oath,  
which e●…st thou vowedst to me:  
My dearest blood in recompense,  
thou sure s●…onldst shortly see.  
A thousand sighs to sand to thee I will not let,  
Ne to be wail the l●…sse of thee, I never will forget  
But still suppose I see,  
the same before my face:  
And lovingly between my arms,  
thy corpse I do embrace.   

¶ Thus fe●…d I fancy still,  
for lack of greater joy:  
With such like thoughts, which daily doth,  
my wo●…ull heart annoy:  
thus still in hope I live,  
my wished joys to have:  
And in despair oft time I wish,  
my feeble Corpse in grave.   

¶ This is the life I lead, till I thee see again  
And so will do, till dreadful death,  
do seek to ease my pain,  
whom rather I do wish, by force to end in woe,  
than for to live in happy state, thy love for to forego.   

¶ And thus farewell my dear,  
with whom my heart shall rest,  
Remember him that this did write,  
sith he doth love thee best:  
And will ●…il greedy death,  
my days do shorten now:  
Farewell my dear, lo here my faith  
and troth to thee I vow.   
Finis.   

The Lover compareth himself to the painful Falcover.  
To the tune, I loved her over well.  

THe soaring hawk from fist that flies, her Falconer doth constrain:  
Sometime to range the ground unknown, to find her out again:  
And if by sight or sound of bell, his falcon he may see:  
woe ho he cries, with cheerful voice, the gladdest man is he.   

¶ By Lure then in finest sort, he seeks to bring her in:  
But if that she, full gorged be, he can not so her win:  
Although her becks and ven●…ing ele●…, she many proffers makes:  
Woe ho ho he cries, away she flies, and so her leave she takes.   

¶ This woeful man with weary limbs, runs wandering round about:  
At length by noise of chattering Pies, his hawk again found out  
His heart was glad his eyes had seen, his falcon swift of flight:  
Woe ho ho he cries, she empty gorged, upon his Lure doth light.   

¶ How glad was then the falconer there, no pen nor tongue can tell:  
He swum in bliss that lately felt like pains of cruel hell.  
His hand sometime upon her train, sometime upon her breast:  
Woe ho ho he cries with cheerful voice, his heart was now at rest,   

¶ My dear likewise, behold thy love, what pains he doth endure:  
And now at length let pity move, to stoop▪ unto his Lure.  
A hood of silk, and silver bells, new gifts I promise thee:  
Woe ho ho, I cry, I come then say, make me as glad as he.   
FINIS.