Epitaphs, Epigrams, Songs and Sonnets, with a Discourse of the Friendly affections of Tymetes to Pyndara his Lady.  
Newly corrected with additions, and set out by George Turbervile Gentleman.  
Anno Domini. 1567.  
¶ IMPRINTED AT London, by Henry Denham.   

¶ To the Right Noble and his singular good Lady, Lady Anne, Countess Warwick. etc. George turbervile wisheth increase of Honour with all good Haps.  
AS AT WHAT time (Madam) I first published this fond & slender treatise of Sonnets, I made bold with you in dedication of so unworthy a book to so worthy a Lady: so have I now also rubbeth my brow and wiped away all shame in this respect, adventuring not to cease, but to increase my former folly, in adding more Sonnets to those I wrote before. So much the more abusing in mine own conceit your ladyship's patience, in that I had pardon before of my rash attempt. But see (Madam) what presumption reigns in reckless youth. You accepted that my first offer of honourable and mere courtesy, and I thereby encouraged, blush not to proceed in the like trade of folly, always hoping for the like acceptance at your hands, which if should fail me (as I hope it shall not fail) then should I hereafter not once so much as dare as to set pen to paper for fear of controlment and check, which how grievous it is to a young man now (as it were) but tasting with his lip the brim of learning's fountain, and saluting the Muses at the door and thresholl, neither is your Ladyship ignorant, and I myself presume to know. Wherefore as I have (Madam) by a little enlarging this Book, enlarged not a little my folly: so is my humble suit to you a little to enlarge your bounteous courtesy, I mean in well accepting the increase of these my follies, proceeding not so much upon any light affection, as desire to acknowledge a greater duty. It shall not be long (I hope) but that my hand shall seek in some part the requital of your bounty by some better devise, though not more learned treatise. But what should I stand upon terms of skill? knowing that it is not the work that your Ladyship doth so much regard as the Writer, neither the worthiness of the thing, as the good will and meaning of the Deviser thereof, offering his duty in such wise as best answers his ability and power. For as if subjects should have respect more to the unworthiness of such things as they give their Princes, than regard the worthy minds and good natures of their sovereign's in well accepting such slender trifles at their vassals hands, they should quite be discouraged from ever offering the like and slender gifts: so if I should cast an eye rather to the baseness of my Book, than account of your Noble nature and accustomed courtesy in well receiving the same: neither should I heretofore emboldened myself so far as to have offered you this trifling treatise, nor now have the heart to adventure anew, although somewhat purged of his former faults and 'scapes. I cannot leave to molest your noble eyes with survey of my rash compiled toys. It may please your Ladyship to weigh my well meaning heart, at what time occasion ministers you the perusing of my book, and this to deem, that desire alone to manifest my duty to you, was the only cause of this my enterprise. Which done, I have at this time no more to trouble your Ladyship, but ending my Epistle, to crave the Gods your happy preservation of present Honour, and lucky increase of blessed haps in all your life.  
Your ladyships daily Orator George turbervile.   

To the Reader.  
HERE HAVE I (Gentle Reader) according to promise in my Translation, given thee a few Sonnets, the unripe seeds of my barren brain, to pleasure and recreate thy weary mind and troubled head withal. Trusting that thou wilt not loath the bestowing thy time at vacant hours in perusing the same. Weighing that for thy solace alone (the bounden duty which I owed the noble countess reserved) I undertook this slender toil, and not for any pleasure I did myself in penning thereof. As I deem thou canst not, so do I hope thou wilt not mislike it at all. But if there be any thing herein that may offend thee, refuse it, read and peruse the rest with patience. Let not the misliking of one member procure thee rashly to condemn the whole. I stand to thy judgement, I expect thy equity. Read the good, and reject the evil: yea rather condemn it to perpetual silence. For so would I wish thee to deal with unworthy Books: But assuredly there is nothing in this whole slender Volume that was meant amiss of me the Writer, howsoever the Letter go in thy judgement that art the Reader.  
Whatsoever I have penned, I writ not to this purpose, that any youthly head should follow or pursue such frail affections, or taste of amorous bait: but by mere fiction of these Fantasies, I would warn (if I might) all tender age to flee that fond and filthy affection of poisoned & unlawful love. Let this be a Glass & Mirror for them to gaze upon: the sooner may I (I trust) prevail in my persuasion, for that myself am of their years and disposition. And as I am not the first that in this sort hath written & employed his time: so shall I not be the last, that without desert (perhaps) shallbe misdeemed for attempting the same. But let those curious Knights cast an eye to home, and look well about whether they themselves are blameless, or as well worthy reproach as others. This done and my intent considered, hoping of thy courtesy I end, always ready to pleasure thee by my pains, wishing unto thee, that art the patiented Reader, as to myself the Writer and thy very Friend.  
George turbervile.   

To the railing Rout of Sycophants.  
IF he that once encountered with his Foes  
In open field at sound of blasted Trump,  
Do dare to yield his hewed head to vides,  
And go again to hear the Canons thump:  
With dreadless heart and unappalled breast  
Not fearing till he be by Foes oppressed:  
If such as erst in cutting of the Surge  
By passing to the strange and foreign land  
Bode bitter blast and scornful Neptune's scourge,  
Dread not to take the like attempt in hand,  
But rashly run like sturdy venturous Wights  
Not fearing wind nor wane when Borias fights:  
If these (I say) do nothing doubt at all  
But valiantly give fresh assault anew,  
Not dreading danger that is like to fall,  
As they long erst by proof and practise knew:  
Then why should I of yore that have assayed  
The force of Zoylls' mouth be aught dismayed?  
Then why should I, like one that feared to fight  
Or never crushed his head with Helmets heft,  
Now show myself a weak and coward Wight  
As long as life or limb uncut is left:  
Fo● 〈◊〉 ●●●st and I attempt the like,  
And 〈…〉 self now shall I ●●●ck is strike?  
No, no, I march 'gainst Momus once again,  
My courage is not quailed by cruel Foe,  
Though Zoyll did his best my Flag to gain,  
Twas not his hap to have the Conquest so:  
And since it was my luck to scape his might,  
I here assail the Beast with novel fight.  
Thou Sycophant, unsheath thy shameful blade  
Pluck out that bloody Falchion (Dafrard thou)  
Wherewith thou hast full many a skirmish made  
And scocht the brains of many a learned brow.  
Now do thy worst, I force not of thy stroke,  
Thou shalt not bring my neck to servage yoke.  
Though thou affirm with rash & railing jaws  
That I invita have Minerva made  
My other Book, I gave thee no such cause  
By any deed of mine to draw thy blade:  
But since thou hast shot out that shameless word,  
I here 'gainst thee uncote my cruel sword.  
I know thou wilt each word and sentence wry  
That in this slender Book of me is write,  
And wilt the same unto thy sense apply  
Hoping for love thereby to breed despite:  
And look what I amiss did never mean,  
Thou wilt mistake and eke misconstrue clean.  
Thou wilt the wily brain that aught is bend  
To fowl suspect and spot of fell distrust,  
Persuade that here something of him was meant,  
And jealous Coals into his bosom thrust,  
thinking thereby thy purpose to as●  
In setting of his boiling breast a fire.  
But as thou art in all thy other deeds  
Deserving no belief or trust at all:  
Likewise what so from thy vile jaws proceeds,  
Is loathsome lie, fowl ●itton, bitter Gall.  
Believe him not but read the Treatise through,  
He sows debate with help of hateful Plough.  
The modest mind that means but virtues trade  
And shuns the shameful shop of bawdy sect,  
This spiteful Beast will (if he may) persuade  
That these are Toys: for that he should reject  
And not peruse the meaning of the same,  
Thus Zoyll seeks but blot of black defame.  
But thou that vewste this style with staid brow,  
Mark cry word, unjoint each Verse of mine,  
Thy judgement I and censure will allow,  
Nor once will seem for rancour to repine:  
Thou art the man whose sentence I expect,  
I scorn the scoffs of Zoylls shameful sect.  
FINIS.   

The Table.  

IN praise of the Renowned Lady Anne, Lady countess Warwick. fol. 1.  
The Argument to the whole discourse and Treatise following. fol. 3.  
To a late acquainted Friend. fol. 4.  
The Lover extolleth the singular beauty of his Lady. 6  
The Lover declareth how first he was taken and enamoured by the sight of his Lady. 7  
Master Googe his Sonnet of the pains of love. 8  
Turbervile's Answer and Distich to the same. 8  
¶ An Epitaph on the death of Dame Elyzabeth Arhundle. 9  
To Piero of Pride. 9  
Piero to turbervile. 9  
Verse in praise of Lord Henry Howard Earl of Surrey. 9  
Of jealousy. 10  
To his Lady, that by hap when he kissed her and made her lip bleed, controlled him and took disdain. 10  
Master Googe his Sonnet. 11  
Turbervile's answer. 11  
A Comparison of the lovers estate with the Soldiers painful life. 11  
The Lover against one that compared his Mistress with his Lady. 12  
The Lover to a Gentlewoman, that after great friendship without desert or cause of misliking refused him. 14  
The Lover obtaining his wish by all likelihood, yet not able to attain his desire, compares himself to Tantalus. 16  
The Lover to the Thems of London to favour his Lady passing thereon. 18  
To his Ring given to his Lady, wherein was graven this Verse. My heart is yours. 18  
The despairing Lover craves either mercy in time at his Lady's hands, or cruel death. 19  
To his Friend to be constant after choice made. 20  
Counsel returned by Pyndara to Tymetes, of constancy. 21  
The Lovers must not despair though their Ladies seem strange. 21  
A Letter sent by Tymetes to his Lady Pyndara at the time of his departure. 23  
Pyndaras Answer to the Letter which Tymetes sent her at the time of his departure. 24  
To his absent Friend the Lover writes of his unquiet and restless state. 29  
The answer of a Woman to her Lover, supposing his complaint to be but feigned. 31  
The Lover exhorteth his Lady to take time, while time is. 32  
The Lover wisheth to be conjoined and fast linked with his Lady never to sunder. 33  
The Lover hoping assuredly of attaining his purpose, after long suit, gins to joy renouncing dolours. 35  
The Lover to his careful Bed declaring his restless state. 35  
¶ An Epitaph and woeful Verse of the death of Sir john Tregonwell Knight, and learned Doctor of both laws. 36  
The Lover confesseth himself to be in love and enamoured of Mistress P. 39  
That all things have release of pain save the Lover, that hoping and dreading never taketh ease. 39  
A poor Ploughman to a Gentleman, for whom he had taken a little pains. 41  
To his Friend: P: of courting, travailing, Dicing, and tennis. 41  
The lover declares that unless he utter his sorrows by suit, of force he dieth. 42  
The Lover to a Friend that wrote him this sentence. Yours assured to the death. 42  
Of certain Flowers sent by his Love upon suspicion of change. 42  
The Answer to the same. 43  
Of a Fox that would eat no Grapes. 43  
Of the strange countenance of an aged Gentlewoman. 43  
To the Roving Pirate. 44  
Of one that had little Wit. 44  
In commendation of Wit. 44  
An Answer in dispraise of Wit. 44  
The Lover to Cupid for mercy, declaring how first he became his Thrall, with the occasion of his defying love, and now at last what caused him to convert. 45  
After misadventures come good haps. 55  
To his Love that controlled his Dog for fawning on her. 55  
Upon the death of the aforenamed Dame Elizabeth Arundle of Cornwall. 56  
Dispraise of Women that allure and love not. 59  
Of a Physician and a Soothsayer. 62  
A controversy of a conquest in love twixt Fortune and Venus. 62  
The Lover voweth howsoever he be guendoned to love faithfully. 63  
He sorrows the long absence of his Lady P. 64  
To his Love long absent, declaring his torments. 65  
To Brown of light belief. 67  
That death is not so much to be feared as daily diseases are. 68  
The Epicures counsel, eat, drink, and play. 68  
The Answer to the vile and cankered counsel of the outrageous Epicure. 69  
Of Homer and his birth. 69  
That time conquereth all things, save the lovers pain. 70  
To his Friend riding to Londonward. 71  
Of the Rain and cloudy weather at the time of his Friends departure from Troy. 71  
Of a covetous niggard, and a needy Mouse. 71  
A pretty Epigram of a Scholar, that having read vergil's Aeneidos, married a cursed Wife. 73  
To a young Gentleman of taking a wife. 73  
The Answer for taking a Wife. 73  
Of a deaf Plaintiff, a deaf Defendant, and a deaf judge. 74  
A promise of old good will, to an old friend at the beginning of New year. 75  
A Vow to serve faithfully. 75  
Funeral Verse upon the death of Sir john Horsey Knight. 75  
To his Friend T: having been long studied and well experienced, and now at length loving a Gentlewoman that forced him nought at all. 76  
¶ An Epitaph upon the death of the worshipful Master Richard Edward's late Master of the Children in the Queen's majesties Chapel. 77  
To his Love that sent him a Ring wherein was graude, Let Reason rule. 79  
To his Friend Francis Th: leading his life in the Country at his desire. 79  
To a Gentlewoman that always willed him to wear Rosemary, (a Tree that is always green,) for his sake, and in token of his good will to her. 80  
¶ An Epitaph of the Lady Br. 81  
Of the time he first began to love and after how he forewent the same. 81  
The assured promise of a constant Lover. 82  
The Pine to the Mariner. 82  
Again otherwise. 83  
To an old Gentlewoman, that painted her face. 83  
Of one that had a great Nose. 83  
Of one whose Nose was greater than his hand. 84  
Of a Nightingale that slew to Colche to sit abroad. 84  
Again of the Nightingale. 84  
Of a contrary marriage. 84  
Of Drunkenness. 85  
Again of Drunkenness. 85  
Of the picture of a vain Rhetorician. 85  
Of the fond discord of the two Theban brothers, Oeteocles and Polynices. 85  
Of a marvelous deformed man. 85  
A Mirror of the fall of Pride. 85  
Of the Clock and the Cock. 89  
Of a Tailor. 89  
The Lover finding his Love flitted from wont troth leaves to write in praise of her. 90  
He sorrows other to have the fruits of his service. 91  
The Lover seeing himself abused, renounceth love. 92  
Against the jealous heads that always have Lovers in suspect. 94  
That it is hurtful to conceal secrets from our Friends. 96  
Of the divers and contrary passions and affections of his love. 97  
Of Dido and the truth of her death. 99  
Of Venus in Armour. 99  
Of a Hare complaining of the hatred of Dogs. 99  
To one that painted Echo. 99  
To a Cruel Dame for Grace and pity. 100  
To a Gentlewoman from whom he took a Ring. 100  
The Lover blames his Tongue that failed to utter his suit in time of need. 101  
That all things are as they are used. 102  
The Lover excuseth himself for renowncing his love and Lady, imputing the same to his fate and constellation. 103  
Of Lady Venus, that having lost her son Cupid God of love, and desirous to understand of him again, declares by the way the nature of love and affections of the same, by pretty description as followeth. 105  
Of the cruel hatred of Stepmothers. 106  
Again. 106  
To Cupid for revenge of his unkind & cruel love. Declaring his faithful service and true heart both to the God of Love and his Lady. 106  
An Answer to his Lady, that willed him that absence should not breed forgetfulness. 107  
Of a Thracyan that was drowned by playing on the Ice. 109  
The Lover hoping in May to have had redress of his woes, and yet foully missing his purpose, bewails his cruel hap. 109  
To a fickle & unconstant Dame, a friendly warning. 111  
The Lover to his Lady that gazed much up to the Skies. 111  
The Penitent Lover utterly renowncing love, craves pardon of forepast follies. 111  
To his Friend that refused him without cause why but only upon delight of change. 113  
To one that upon surmise of adversity, forewent her Friend. 114  
To Master Googes fancy that gins give Money me take friendship who so list. 115  
The Lover abused renownceth love. 115  
The forsaken Lover laments that his Lady is matched with an other. 117  
Of one that was in reversion. 117  
That all hurts and losses are to be recovered and recured save the cruel wound of love. 118  
Of the choice of his Valentine. 119  
Of an open Foe and a feigned Friend. 119  
Again. 119  
Of a Rich Miser. 119  
Of a Painter that painted Favour. 120  
The Lover whose Lady dwelled fast by a Prison. 120  
Complaint of the long absence of his love upon the first acquaintance. 121  
The venturous Lover after long absence craves his Lady to meet with him in place to enterparle of her adventures. 122  
To Master Googe his Sonnet out of sight out of thought. 124  
The Lover whose Mistress feared a Mouse, declareth that he would become a Cat, if he might have his desire. 124  
The Lover driven to absent him from his lady, bewails his estate. 125  
That Lovers ought rather at first acquaintance to show their meanings by Pen then by Mouth. 127  
¶ An Epitaph of Master Win drowned in the Sea. 127  
Again. 128  
Praise of his love. 129  
The complaint of a Friend of his, having lost his Dove. 130  
That Lovers ought to shun no pains to attain their love. 131  
A request of Friendship to Vulcan's Wife made my Mars. 132  
The Lover that had loved Long without requital of good will. 132  
To a Friend that willed him to beware of Envy. 133  
Of Misreporters. 133  
That no man should write but such as do excel. 133  
To his Friend, declaring what virtue it is to stick to former plighted friendship. 134  
Of two desperate Men. 134  
Of the torments of Hell and the pains of love. 134  
¶ An Epitaph of the death of Master Tufton of Kent. 136  
Again. 137  
In praise of Lady P. 137  
The Lover in utter despair of his Lady's return, in each respect compares his estate with Troilus. 139  
The Lover declareth what he would have if he might obtain his wish. 141  
Of a Gentlewoman that wild her Lover to wear green Bays in token of her steadfast love towards him. 142  
¶ An Epitaph of Master Edward's sometime Master of the children of the Chapel, & Gentleman of Lincoln's june of Court▪ 142  
¶ An Epitaph on the death of Master Arthur Brooke drowned in passing to New Haven. 143  
Of the renowned Lady, Lady Anne Countess Warwick. 144   
FINIS.   

 
The Lion stout, whom never erst  
could any beast subdue:  
Here (Madam as you see) doth yield  
both to your Bear and you.   

In praise of the Renowned Lady Anne, Lady countess Warwick.  
WHen Nature first in hand did take  
The Clay to frame this countess corpse  
The Earth a while she did forsake,  
And was compelled of very force  
With mould in hand to flee to Skies,  
To end the work she did devies.  
The Gods that tho in counsel sat,  
Were half amazed (against their kind)  
To see so near the stool of state  
Dame Nature stand, that was assigned  
Among her worldly Imps to won,  
As she until that day had done.  
First jove began: what (Daughter dear)  
Hath made thee scorn thy Fathers will?  
Why do I see thee (Nature) here,  
That oughtest of duty to fulfil  
Thy under taken charge at home:  
What makes thee thus abroad to rome?  
Disdainful Dame, how didst thou dare  
So reckless to departed the ground,  
That is allotted to thy share?  
(And therewithal his Godhead frowned.)  
I will (quoth Nature) out of hand  
Declare the cause I fled the land.  
I undertook of late a piece  
Of Clay a featured face to frame,  
To match the courtly Dames of Gréece  
That for their beauty bear the name:  
But (Oh good Father) now I so  
This work of mine it will not be.  
Vicegerent since you me assigned  
Below in Earth, and gave me laws  
On mortal Wights, and willed that Kind  
Should make and mar, as she saw cause:  
Of right (I think) I may appeal  
And crave your help in this to deal.  
When jove saw how the case did stand  
And that the work was well begun,  
He prayed to have the helping hand  
Of other Gods till he had done:  
With willing minds they all agreed  
And set upon the Clay with speed.  
First jove each limb doth well dispose  
And makes a Creature of the Clay:  
Next Lady Venus she bestows  
Her gallant gifts as best she may,  
From face to foot, from top to toe  
She let no wait untouched to go.  
When Venus had done what she could  
In making of her (carcase) brave  
Than Pallas thought she might be bold  
Among the rest a share to have,  
A passing wit she did convey  
Into this passing piece of clay.  
Of Bacchus she no member had  
Save fingers fine and feat to see,  
Her head with Hear Apollo clad  
That Gods had thought it gold to be:  
So glistering was the tress in sight  
Of this new formed and featured Wight.  
Diana held her peace a space  
Until those other Gods had done:  
At last (quoth she) in Diane's chase  
With Bow in hand this Nymph shall run,  
And chief of all my Noble train  
I will this Virgin entertain.  
Then joyful juno came and said  
Since you to her so friendly are,  
I do appoint this Noble Maid  
To match with Mars his peer for war:  
She shall the countess Warwick be,  
And yield Diana's Bow to me.  
When to so good effect it came  
And every member had his grace,  
There wanted nothing but a name:  
By hap was Mercury then in place,  
That said: pray you all agree  
Pandora grant her name to be.  
For since your Godheads forged have  
With one assent this Noble Dame,  
And each to her a virtue gave,  
This term agreeth to the same:  
The Gods that heard Mercurius tell  
This tale, did like it passing well.  
Report was sommonde then in haste  
And willed to bring his Trump in hand  
To blow therewith a sounding blast  
That might be heard through Brutus' land:  
Pandora straight the Trumpet blewe  
That each this countess Warwick knew.  
O silly Nature borne to pain,  
O woeful wretched kind (I say)  
That to forsake the soil were feign  
To make this countess out of Clay:  
But oh most friendly Gods that would  
Vouchsafe to set your hands to mould.   

¶ The Argument to the whole discourse and Treatise following  
BY sudden sight of unacquainted shape  
Tymetes fell in love with Pyndara,  
Whose beauty far excelde Sir Paris rape,  
That Poets cleape the famous Helena.  
His flame at first be durst not to display,  
For fear be should offended Pyndara:  
But covert kept his torments many a day,  
As Paris did from worthy Helena.  
At length the coal so fiery red became,  
Of him that so did fancy Pyndara  
That fuming smoke did wry the hidden flame  
To her that far exceeded Helena.  
Which when she saw, she seemed with friendly eye  
To like with him that liked Pyndara:  
And made as though she would eft soon apply  
To him, as to her guest did Helena.  
Tymetes (loving man) then hoped well,  
And moonde his suit to Lady Pyndara:  
He plied his Pen and to his writing fell  
And sued as did the man to Helena.  
Within a while despairing wretched Wight  
He found his Love (the Lady Pyndara)  
So strange and coy, as though she took delight  
To pain her Friend, as did fair Helena.  
Another time her cheer was such to see,  
That poor Tymetes hoapte that Pyndara  
Would yield him grace: But long it would not be,  
She kept aloof as did Dame Helena.  
Thus twixt despair and hope the doubtful man  
Long space did live that loved Pyndara,  
In woeful plight: At last the Nymph began  
To quite his love as did fair Helena.  
Then joyed be, and cheerful ditties made  
In praise of his achieved Pyndara:  
But soon (God wot) his pleasure went to glade,  
Another took too wife this Helena.  
Thus ever as Tymetes had the cause  
Of joy or smart, of comfort or refuse:  
He glad or griefful wox, and ever draws  
His present state with Pen as here ensues.   

To a late acquainted Friend.  
IF Vulcan durst presume  
that was a Gnuffe to see,  
And struck with Hammer on the stitch  
a cunning Smith to be,  
Whose chief and whole delight  
was aye to fry at Forge,  
And listen to that melody  
Smiths sorrows to disgorge:  
If Vulcan durst (I say)  
Dame Venus to assail  
That was the worthyste Wight of all,  
if witness may prevail:  
Then may you muse the less,  
though fancy force me wright  
To you a second Venus (Friend)  
and Helen in my sight.  
For what he saw in her  
a Goddess by her kind,  
That I in you (my chosen Friend)  
and somewhat else do find.  
And as that silly Smith  
by Cupid was procured  
To fawn on her, to whom in fine  
he firmly was assured:  
So by none other means  
my Senses are in thrall,  
But by procurement of the God  
that conquers Gods and all.  
Tis he that makes me bold,  
'tis he that wills me sue  
To thee (my late acquainted Friend)  
loves torment to eschew.  
Not too this day was seen  
that any durst rebel  
Or kick at Cupid Prince of Love,  
as learned Poets tell:  
But rather would with free  
and uncoacted mind  
Apply to please in any case  
what so the God assigned.  
What need I here display  
the spoils by Cupid won?  
Not I, but you (my Friend) would faint  
ere half the tale were done.  
His Banner doth declare  
what hearts have been subdued:  
Where they are all in sables set  
with blood and gore imbrued.  
Not mighty Mars alone,  
nor Hercules the stout:  
But other Gods of greater state,  
there standing in a rout.  
There may you plainly see  
how jove was once a Swan,  
To lure fair Leda to his lust  
when raging Love began.  
Some other when a Bull,  
some other time a shower  
Of golden drops: as when he coyde  
the closed Nun in tower.  
Apollo's Love appears  
and ever will be known,  
As long as Laurel leaves shall last,  
and Daphne's brute be blown.  
May brainsick Bacchus brag  
or boast himself as free?  
Not I, but Aryadnas' Crown  
shows him in love to be.  
Since these and other more  
that Gods were made by kind  
Might not avoid that guileful God  
that winged is and blind:  
Should I have hope to scape  
by force, or else by flight,  
That in respect of those his thralls  
am of so slender might?  
As they did yield to Love  
for fear of Cupid's ire:  
Even so am I become his thrall  
by force of flaming fire.  
What time I first displayed  
mine eyes upon thy face,  
(That doth allure each looker's heart)  
I did the P. embrace.  
And since that time I feel  
within my breast such joy,  
As Paris never felt the like  
when Helen was at Troy.  
How could so barren soil  
bring forth so good a graff,  
To whom the rest that seem good Corn  
are in respect but Chaff?  
(O God) that Cupid would  
upon thy breast bestow  
His golden shaft, that thou the force  
of liking love mightst know.  
Then should I stand in hope  
and well assured be,  
That thou wouldst be as friendly (P.)  
as I am now to thee.  
Whom (till thy friendship fail,  
and plighted Hest do swerver)  
I vaunt and vow by mighty jove  
with heart and hand to serve.  
My Senses all take heed,  
and ye my wits beware  
That you attentive be on her  
and for none other care.  
You eyes that wonted were  
light loving looks to cast,  
I give commandment on her hue  
that ye be ankred fast.  
Mine ears admit no sound  
ne Woman's words at all:  
Be shut against such Sirens Songs  
replete with lurking gall.  
Tongue see that thou be tied,  
and use no wanton style:  
By law of Love I thee conjure  
such toys to exile.  
Legs look that ye be lame  
when you should reach a place  
To take the view of Venus' Nymphs  
Pees beauty to deface.  
For such a one is she  
whom I would will you serve,  
As to be placed for Pallas peer  
for wisdom may deserve.  
So constant are her looks  
and eaken as chaste a face:  
As if that Lucrece living were  
she Lucrece would disgrace.  
So modest is her mirth  
in erie time and tide,  
As they that prick most nearste of all  
their shiverde shafts are wide.  
Pause Pen a while therefore,  
and use thy wonted mean:  
For Boccas brain, and Chaucer's Quill  
in this were foiled clean.  
Of both might neither boast  
if they did live again:  
For P. would put them to their shifts  
to Pen her virtues plain.  
Yet one thing will I vaunt  
and after make an end,  
That Momus can not for his life  
devise one jot to mend.  
Thus to conclude at length,  
see thou (my Friend) peruse  
This slender Verse, till leisure serve  
abroad to bring my Muse.  
For than you shall perceive  
by that which you shall see,  
That you have made your choice as well  
as I by choosing P.   

The Lover extolleth the singular beauty of his Lady.  
LEt Myron muse at Nature's passing might,  
And quite resign his peevish Painters right:  
For sure he can not frame her featured shape  
That for her face excels the Greekish rape.  
Let Zeuxis Grapes not make him proud at all,  
Though Fowls for them did skyr against a wall:  
For if he should assay my Love to paint,  
His Art would fail, his cunning fist would faint.  
Let Praxitell presume with Pencil rude  
Base things to blaze the people to delude:  
her featured limbs to draw let him not dare  
That with the fair Diana may compare.  
Though Venus' form Apelles made so well,  
As Creece did judge the Painter to excel:  
Yet let not that enbolde the Greek to grave  
Her shape, that beauty's praise deserves to have.  
For Nature when she made her, did intend  
To paint a piece that no man might amend:  
A pattern for the rest that after should  
Be made by hand, or cast in cunning mould.   

The Lover declareth how first he was taken and enamoured by the sight of his Lady.  
I Having never erst  
the craft of Cupid tried,  
Ne yet the wily wanton ways  
of Lady Venus spied,  
But spent my time in sport  
as youth is wont by kind,  
Not forcing fancies pinching power  
that other Wights did blind:  
By fortune found a face  
that lykte my heart so well,  
As by the sudden view thereof  
to fancies frame I fell.  
No sooner had mine eyes  
upon her beauty stayed,  
But Wit and Will without respect  
were altogether weighed.  
unwarely so was none  
in such a snare before:  
The more I gazed upon her face,  
I lykte my Love the more.  
Forthwith I thought my heart  
out of his room was rapt:  
And wits (that wonted were to wait  
on Reason) were entrapped,  
Down by mine eyes the stroke  
descended to the heart:  
Which Cupid never crazed before  
by force of golden dart.  
My blood that thought it bound  
his masters part to take,  
No longer durst abide abroad,  
but outward limbs forsake.  
Which having been in breast  
and frosty cold dismayed:  
It hasted from the heart again  
external parts to aid.  
And brought with it such heat  
as did inflame the face,  
Distayning it with Scarlet red  
by rashness of the race.  
And since that time I feel  
such pangs and inward fits,  
As now with hope, and then with fear  
encumbered are my wits.  
Thus must I Miser live  
till she by friendly ruth  
Do pity me her loving Thrall  
whose deeds shall try his truth.  
Thrice lucky was the day,  
thrice happy cake the place,  
And ye (mine eyes) thrice blessed were  
that lighted on her face.  
If I in fine may force  
her pity by my plaint:  
I shall in cunningest verse I may  
her worthy praise depaint.  
There is one thing makes me joy  
and bids me think the best:  
That cruel rigour can not lodge  
where beauty is possessed.  
And sure unless she salve  
and beale this cankered wound  
By yielding grace, it must in time  
of force my corpse confound.  
For long it may not last  
that in such anguish lies:  
Extremes in no case can endure  
as Sages did devise.  
No Tiger gave her Teat,  
she is no lions whelp:  
Ne was she bred of cruel rocks,  
nor will renounce to help  
Such as she pains with love,  
and doth procure to woe:  
She is not of the Currish kind,  
her nature is not so.   

Master Googe his Sonnet of the pains of love.  
Two lines shall tell the grief  
that I by Love sustain:  
I burn, I flame, I faint, I freeze,  
of Hell I feel the pain.   

Turbervile's answer and distich to the same.  
Two lines shall teach you how  
to purchase ease anew:  
Let Reason rule where Love did reign,  
and idle thoughts eschew.   

¶ An epitaph on the death of Dame Elyzabeth Arhundle.  
HEre graved is a good and Godly Wight,  
That yielded hath her cinders to the soil,  
Who ran her race in virtues tilt aright  
And never had at Fortune's hand the foil:  
The guide was God whom she did aye ensue,  
And Virtue was the mark whereat she threw.  
Descending of a house of worthy fame  
She linked at length with one of equal state,  
Who though did change her first & former name,  
Did not enforce her virtues to rebate:  
For Dannat she Dame Arhundle was height,  
whose fear was known to be a worthy Knight.  
Her beauty I not blaze ne brute at all,  
(Though with the best she might therein compare)  
For that it was to age and fortune thrall:  
Her thews I touch which were so passing rare,  
As being earthde and reaved her vital breath,  
Her chiefest part doth live and conquer death.  
Let Spite not spare to speak of her the worst,  
Let Envy feed upon her godly life,  
Let Rancour rage, let Hatreds belly burst,  
Let Zoill now unsheath his cutting knife:  
For death hath closed her corpse in Marble grave,  
Her soul is fled in Skies his seat to have.  
Let Leyster laugh that such a Mirror bred:  
Let Matrons mourn for loss of their renown,  
Let Cornwall cry since Dannat now is dead,  
Let Virtue eke do on her mourning gown:  
For she is rest that was at virtues beck  
Whom Fortune had no power to give the check.   

To Piero of Pride.  
FRiend Piero, Pride infects a friendly mind,  
The haughty are pursued with deadly hate:  
Wherefore eschew the proud & Peacock's kind.  
That gréede are to sit on stool of state:  
The lowly heart doth win the love of all,  
But Pride at last is sure of shameful fall.   

Piero to turbervile.  
GOod is the counsel (turbervile) you give,  
It is a virtue rare well to advise,  
But if yourself in peacock's sort do live  
Men déemen may you are not perfit wise:  
Whose chiefest point in act consisteth aye,  
Well doing far excelleth well to say.   

Verse in praise of Lord Henrye Howard Earl of Surrey.  
WHat should I speak in praise of Surrey's skill  
Unless I had a thousand tongues at will?  
No one is able to depaint at full,  
The flowing fountain of his sacred Skull.  
Whose Pen approoude what wit he had in mue  
Where such a skill in making Sonnets grew.  
Each word in place with such a sleight is couched,  
Each thing whereof he treats so firmly touched,  
As Pallas seemed within his Noble breast  
To have soiournde, and been a daily guest.  
Our mother tongue by him hath got such light,  
As ruder speech thereby is banished quite:  
Reprove him not for fancies that he wrought,  
For Fame thereby and nothing else he sought.  
What though his verse with pleasant toys are fright?  
Yet was his honour's life a Lamp of light.  
A Mirror he the simple sort to train,  
That ever beat his brain for Britan's gain.  
By him the Nobles had their virtues blazed,  
When spiteful death their honours lives had razed.  
Each that in life had well deserved aught,  
By Surrey's means an endless fame hath caught.  
To quite his boon and aye well meaning mind,  
Whereby he did his Sequel seem to bind:  
Though want of skill to silence me procures,  
I writ of him whose fame for aye endures,  
A worthy Wight, a Noble for his race,  
A learned Lord that had an Earl's place.   

Of jealousy.  
A Strange disease, a grief exceeding great,  
A man to have his heart in flame enrolled,  
In sort that he can never choose but sweat,  
And feel his feet benumde with frosty cold.  
No doubt if he continue in this heat,  
He will become a Cook hereafter old,  
Of such diseases such is the effect,  
And this in him we may full well suspect.   

To his Lady, that by hap when he kissed her and made her lip bleed, controlled him and took disdain.  
DIscharge thy dole,  
Thou subtle soul,  
It stands in little steed  
To curse the kiss  
That causer is  
Thy chirrie lip doth bleed.  
Thy blood ascends  
To make amends  
For damage thou hast done:  
For by the same  
I felt a flame  
More scorching than the Sun.  
Thou reftst my heart  
By secret Art,  
My spirits were quite subdued:  
My Senses fled  
And I was dead,  
Thy lips were scarce imbrued.  
The kiss was thine,  
The hurt was mine,  
My heart felt all the pain:  
Twas it that bled  
And looked so red,  
I tell thee once again.  
But if you long  
To wreak your wrong  
Upon your friendly fo:  
Come kiss again  
And put to pain  
The man that hurt you so.   

Master Googe his Sonnet.  
ACcuse not God if fancy fond  
do move thy foolish brain  
To wail for love, for thou thyself  
art cause of all the pain.   

Turbervile's answer.  
NOt God (friend Googe) the Lover blames  
as worker of his woes:  
But Cupid that his fiery flames  
so frantically bestows.   

A comparison of the lovers estate with the Soldiers painful life.  
IF Soldiers may for service done,  
and labours long sustained,  
For weary watch, and perils past,  
and arms with armour pained:  
For push of Pike, for Holbers struck,  
for standing in the front,  
If they expect reward (I say)  
for biding battles brunt:  
Then what shall Cupid's Captains crave,  
what recompense desire,  
That ward the day, and wake the night  
consumed with fretting fire?  
No room of rest, no time of truce,  
no pleading for a peace:  
When Cupid sounds his warlike Trump,  
the fight will never cease.  
First shall you see the shivering shafts  
and view the thirled darts  
Which from their eyes they cast by course  
to pierce their enemies hearts.  
But if the Foe do stand aloof,  
(as is the lovers guise)  
Than Canons with their cruel cracks  
as thick as thunder flies.  
Sweet words in place of powder stand  
by force which think to win,  
That loving looks of late had lost  
when fight did first begin.  
But on the breast to bear the brunt  
and keep them from the heart,  
A sure and privy cote is worn  
repelling pellats smart.  
They stop their ears against the sound,  
which is the surest shield  
Against the dreadful shot of words  
that thousands had beguiled.  
But when Cupidians' flatly see  
nor gun, nor Bow prevail,  
They then begin their friendly foes  
with other fight tassaile.  
Then set the daskardes dread aside,  
and to the walls they run,  
As though they would subdue the Fort  
or ere the fight begun.  
Forthwith the scaling Ladders come,  
and to the walls are set,  
Then sighs and sobs begin to climb,  
but they are quickly met.  
Thus Cupid and his Soldiers all  
the sharp repulse sustain:  
Whom Beauty batters from the walls  
whose Captain is Disdain.  
When all are gone and yield it lost,  
comes Hope and hot Desire,  
To see where they can have the hap  
to set the Fort afire.  
But nought prevails their lingering fight,  
they can not Beauty win:  
Yet do they skirmish still behind  
in hope to enter in.  
At length when Beauty doth perceive  
those Soldiers are so true,  
That they will never from the walls  
till they the hold subdue:  
She calls to Pity for the keys  
and bids her let them in:  
In hope they will be true to her  
as they to Love had been.  
The gates no sooner are unlocked,  
but soldiers all retire:  
And enter into Beauty's Fort  
with Hope and hot Desire.  
Now judge by this that I have said  
of these two fights aright,  
Which is the greatest toil of both  
when warlike Tents are pight.  
For Mars his men sometime have ease,  
and from their battle blind:  
But Cupid's soldiers ever serve  
till they Dame Beauty win.   

The Lover against one that compared his Mistress with his Lady.  
A Madness to compare  
the Pipler with the Pine,  
Whereof the Mariner makes his Mast,  
and hangs it all with line.  
A folly to prefer  
a Lamp before the Sun,  
Or brag that balam's lumpish Ass  
with Bucephall shall run.  
Then cease for shame to vaunt,  
and crow in craking wise  
Of her that least deserves to have  
her beauty's fame arise.  
Thou foolish Dame beware  
of haughty Peacock's pride:  
The fruit thereof in former age  
hath sundry times been tried.  
Arachne can express  
how angry Pallas was,  
When she in needle work would seem  
the Heavenly Wight to pass.  
The Spider shows the spite  
that she (good wench) abid,  
In token of her pride she hangs  
at roof by rotten third.  
No food she hath allowed  
less Fortune send the Fly:  
The Cobwed is her costly Couch  
appointed her to lie.  
Which venom rank and vile  
her womb is like to burst,  
A token of her inward hate  
and haughty mind at furst.  
And thou that surely thinkest  
thy Lady to excel,  
Example take of others harm  
for judgement that befell:  
When Pan the Pastor's prince,  
and Rex of Rustic rout,  
To pass Apollo in his play  
and Music went about:  
Mount Tmolus was the judge  
that there the room possessed,  
To give his verdict for them both  
which uttered Music best.  
First came the Rustic forth  
with Pipe and puffed bag,  
That made his eyes to run like streams,  
and both his lips to wag.  
The noise was somewhat rude  
and ragged to the ear:  
The simplest man alive would guess  
that peevish Pan was there.  
Then Phoebus framed his frets,  
and wrested all his pings,  
And on his curious strings to strike  
the skilful God begins.  
So passing was his play  
as made the trees to dance,  
And stubborn Rocks in deepest vales  
for gladsome joy to prance.  
Amphyon blushed as red  
as any glowing flame:  
And Orpheus durst not show his face,  
but hide his head for shame.  
Enough quoth Tmolus tho,  
my judgement is that Pan  
May pipe among the ruder sort  
that little Music can.  
Apollo's play doth pass  
of all that ere I heard:  
Wherefore (as reason is) of me  
the Luter is preferred.  
Meanwhile was Midas priest,  
not pointed judge in place:  
But (like a dolt that went about  
Apollo to deface)  
Tush Tmolus, tush quoth he,  
Pan hath the better skill:  
For he the empty bag with wind  
and strutting blast doth fill.  
Apollo wags his joints  
and makes a jarring sound:  
Like pleasure is not in the Lute  
as in the Bagpipe found.  
No sooner had he spoke  
those witless words and sed,  
But Phoebus' graft on Ass' ears  
upon his beastly head.  
In proof of judgement wrong  
that Midas did maintain,  
He had a pair of sousing ears  
to shield him from the rain.  
Wherefore (my Friend) take heed  
of afterclaps that fall:  
And deem not her a Darling that  
deserves no praise at all.  
Your judgement is beguiled,  
your Senses suffer shame:  
That so do seek to blaze her arms,  
and to advance her fame.  
Let her go hide her head  
in loathsome lurking mue,  
For crabbed crowfoot mars her face  
and quite distaines her hue.   

The Lover to a Centlewoman, that after great friendship without desert or cause of misliking refused him.  
Have you not heard it long ago  
of cunning Fawkners told,  
That Hawks which love their keepers call  
are worth their weight in Gold?  
And such as know the luring voice  
of him that feeds them still:  
And never wrangle far abroad  
against the keepers will,  
Do far exceed the haggard Hawk  
that stoopeth to no stolen:  
Nor forceth on the Lure a whit,  
but mounts with every gale?  
Yes, yes, I know you know it well,  
and I by proof have tried,  
That wild and haggard Hawks are worse  
than such as will abide.  
Yet is there eke another kind,  
far worser than the rest:  
And those are they that fly at check,  
and stoop to erie gest.  
They leave the law that nature taught  
and shun their wonted kind,  
In fleeing after erie Fowl  
that mounteth with the wind.  
You know what I do mean by this,  
if not, give ear a while:  
And I shall show you my conceit  
in plain and simple style.  
You were sometime a gentle Hawk,  
and wont to feed on fist:  
And knew my luring voice right well  
and would repair at list.  
I could no sooner make a beck  
or token with my hand,  
But you would quickly judge my will  
and how the case did stand.  
But now you are become so wild  
and rammage to be seen,  
As though you were a haggard Hawk,  
your manners altered clean.  
You now refuse to come to fist,  
you shun my wonted call:  
My luring liketh not your ear,  
you force me not at all.  
You flee with wings of often change  
at random where you please:  
But that in time will breed in you  
some fowl and fell disease.  
Live like a haggard still therefore,  
and for no luring care:  
For best (I see) contents thy mind  
at wish and will to far.  
So some perhaps will live in hope  
at length to light on thee,  
That erst reclaimed so gentle wert  
and loving bird to me,  
But if thou chance to fall to check,  
and force on erie fowl,  
Thou shalt be worse detested then,  
than is the nightish Owl.  
This counsel take of him that once  
did keep thee at his beck:  
But now gives up in open field  
for fear of filthy check.   

The Lover obtaining his wish by all likelihood, yet not able to attain his desire, compares himself to Tantalus.  
OF Tantalus plight  
The Poet's wright,  
Complaining  
And feigning  
In sorrowful sounding songs:  
Who feels (they say)  
For Apples gay  
Such paining,  
Not gaining  
The fruit for which he longs:  
For when he thinks to feed thereon,  
The fickle flattering Tree is gone:  
And all in vain he hopes to have  
his famine to expel  
The flitting fruit that looks so brave  
and likes his eye so well:  
And thus his hunger doth increase,  
And he can never find release.  
As want of Meat  
Doth make him fret  
With raging,  
And gauging,  
To catch the fruit that flees:  
Even so for dryth  
The Miser crythe,  
Not swaging,  
But waging,  
For liquor that he sees:  
For to his painful parched mouth  
The long desired water flouth,  
And when he gapes full greedily  
unthrifty thirst to slake,  
The river wasteth speedily,  
and away ward goes the Lake:  
That all the liquor from his lips  
And dried chaps away it slips.  
This kind of pain  
Doth he sustain,  
Not ceasing,  
Increasing,  
His pitiful pining woe:  
In plenty's place,  
devoid of grace,  
Releasing,  
Or ceasing  
The pangs that pinch him so:  
Of all the fretting fits of Hell  
This Tantal's torment is most fell:  
For that the rest can have no hope  
their freedom to attain,  
And he hath granted him such scope  
as makes the Miser feign:  
But all for nought in fine it serves,  
For he with dryth and hunger starves.  
Even so far I  
That am as nigh  
My pleasure,  
My treasure,  
As I might wish to be:  
And have at will  
My Lady still  
At le●●●ure,  
In measure,  
As well it liketh me.  
The amorous blincks flee to and fro,  
With sugared words that make a show  
That fancy is well pleased withal  
and finds itself content:  
Each other friendly friend doth call  
and each of us consent:  
And thus we seem for to possess  
Each others heart and have redress.  
We coll, we clip,  
We kiss with lip,  
Delighted,  
Requighted,  
And merrily spend the day:  
The tales I tell  
Are fanside well,  
Recited,  
Not spited,  
Thus wears the time away.  
Look what I like she doth embrace,  
She gives good ear unto my case  
And yields me lawful liberty  
to frame my dolorous plaint,  
To quite her Friend from jeopardy  
whom Cupid hath attaint:  
Respecting nought at all his wealth  
But seeking mean to work his health.  
I seem to have  
The thing I crave,  
She bars not,  
She jars not,  
But with a very good will  
She hears my suit,  
And for the fruit  
She wars not,  
But dares not  
To let me feed my fill.  
She would (I know) with heart agree,  
The fault is neither in her nor me,  
I dare avow full willingly  
she would consent thereto,  
And gladly would me remedy  
too banish away my woe:  
Lo thus my wish I do possess,  
And am a Tantal natheless.  
For though I stand  
And touch with hand  
Alured,  
Procured,  
The Saint I do desire:  
And may be bold  
For to enfold,  
Assured,  
Endured,  
The Corpse that I require:  
Yet by no means may I attain  
To have the fruit I would so feign  
To rid me from extremity  
and cruel oppressing care,  
Even thus with Tantal's penalty  
my destiny may compare:  
Who though endure excessive pain,  
Yet mine is not the least of twain.   

The Lover to the Thems of London to favour his Lady passing thereon.  
THou stately Stream that with the swelling Tide  
'Gainst London walls incessantly dost beat,  
Thou Thems (I say) where barge & boat doth ride,  
And snowhite Swans do fish for needful meat:  
When so my Love of force, or pleasure shall  
Flit on thy flood as custom is to do:  
Seek not with dread her courage to appall,  
But calm thy tide, and smoothly let it go:  
As she may joy, arrived to sicker shore  
To pass the pleasant stream she did before.  
To weltre up and surge in wrathful wise,  
(As did the flood where Helle drenched was,)  
Would but procure defame of thee to rise:  
Wherefore let all such ruthless rigour pass,  
So wish I that thou mayst with bending side  
Have power for aye in wonted gulf to glide.   

To his Ring given to his Lady, wherein was graven this Verse. My heart is yours.  
THough thou (my King) be small,  
and slender be thy price:  
Yet hast thou in thy compass couched  
a lovers true device.  
And though no Ruby red,  
ne Turkess trim thy top,  
Nor other jewel that commends  
the golden Vulcan's shop:  
Yet mayst thou boldly vaunt  
and make a true report  
For me that am thy Master yet  
in such a semblant sort,  
That aye (my heart is hers)  
of thee I ask no more:  
My Pen and I will show the rest,  
which yet I keep in store.  
Be mindful of thy charge,  
and of thy masters case:  
Forget not that (my heart is hers)  
though I be not in place.  
When thou hast told thy tale  
which is but short and sweet:  
Then let my Love conject the rest  
till she and I do meet.  
For as (my heart is hers)  
so shall it be for aye:  
My heart, my hand, my life, my limbs  
are hers till dying day.  
Yea when the spirit gives up  
and body breathes his last,  
Say natheless (my heart is hers)  
when life and all is past.  
Sat fast to her finger,  
But do thou not wring her.   

The despairing Lover craves either mercy in time at his Lady's hands, or cruel death.  
LIke as the fearful Fouls  
within the Falcon's foot  
Doth yield himself to die,  
and sees none other boot:  
Even so dread I (my Dear)  
lest ruth in thee will want,  
To me that am thy thrall,  
who fearing death do pant.  
So fast I am in give  
within your beauty's Jail,  
As thence to make a breath  
no engine may prevail.  
The heart within my breast  
with trembling fear doth quake:  
And save your love (my Dear)  
nought can my torment slake.  
To slay a yielding pray  
I judge it not your kind:  
Your beauty bids me hope  
more ruth in you to find.  
Where Nature hath yformde  
such featured shape to show,  
There hath she closed in breast  
a heart for grace to grow.  
Wherefore my lingering pains  
redress with ruthful heart:  
And do in time become  
Physician to my smart.  
Oh show thyself a friend  
and Nature's Imp to be,  
As thou a Woman art by kind  
to woman's kind agree.  
But if you can not find  
in heart my life to save,  
But that you long to see  
your thrall lie dead in grave:  
Send me the fatal tool,  
and cruel cutting knife:  
And thou shalt see me rid  
my wretched limbs of life.  
No less to like thy mind  
than to abridge my smart:  
Which were an ill reward  
for such a good desert.  
Of both I count it least  
by cursed death to fall,  
Than ruthless here to live  
and aye to be a thrall.   

To his Friend to be constant after choice made.  
WHat made Ulysses' Wife  
to be renowned so?  
What forced Fame her endless brute  
in blasting trump to blow?  
What Cleopatra caused  
to have immortal praise?  
What did procure Lucrecias land  
to lasten to our days?  
'Cause they their plighted hests  
unbroken aye reserved:  
And planted Constance in their hearts  
from whom they never swerude.  
What makes the Marble stone  
and Diamond so dear?  
Save that the longest last of all,  
and always one appear?  
What makes the waxed form  
to be of slender price?  
But cause with force of fire it melts  
and wasteth with a trice.  
Then if thou long for praise  
or blasted Fame to find,  
(My Friend) thou must not change thy choice  
or turn like Cock with wind.  
Be constant in thy word  
and stable in thy deed:  
This is the readiest way to win  
and purchase praise with speed.   

Counsel returned by Pyndara to Tymetes, of constancy.  
WHat made the Trojan Duke  
that wandering Prince to have  
Such ill report, and foul defame  
as him Carthago gave?  
What faithless jason forced  
a traitors name to gain?  
When he to Colchos came, and did  
the golden Fleece attain?  
What Theseus caused to be  
reported of so ill,  
As yet record thereof remains  
(I think) and ever will?  
'Cause they their faithful Friends  
that saved their doubtful lives  
Forsook at last, and did disdain  
to take them to their wives,  
They broke their vowed hests,  
by ship away they went:  
And so betrayed those seely souls  
that craft nor falsehood meant.  
Wherefore if you (my Friend)  
the like report will flee  
Stand ever to the promise made,  
and plighted troth to me.  
Those Dames of whom you spoke  
were constant (as you say)  
But sure these Lovers I allege  
unfaithful parts did play.  
More cause have I to doubt  
of you (Tymetes) then,  
For (as you see) we Women are  
more trusty than you men.   

The Lovers must not despair though their Ladies seem strange.  
THough Neptune in his rage  
the swelling Seas do toss,  
And crack the Cables in despite  
to further shipmen's loss:  
Though Anchor hold do fail,  
and Mysson go to wrack,  
Though Sails with blustering blast be rend,  
and Keale begin to crack:  
Yet those that are a board  
and guide the ship with steer,  
Although they see such dangers priest  
and perils to appear:  
Yet hope to light at last  
upon some harbour hold,  
And find a port where they to cast  
their anchors may be bold.  
Though thieves be kept in jail  
fast bound in surest gives,  
They lay not all good hope aside  
for saving of their lives.  
They trust at length to see  
such mercy in the judge,  
As they in open presence quit  
may from the prison trudge,  
And those for greedy gain  
and hope of hidden Gold  
In deepest mines and Dungeon dark  
that bide the bitter cold:  
In fine do look to light  
upon some Golden vain,  
Which may be thought a recompense  
for all their passed pain.  
The Ploughman eke that toils  
and turns the ground for grain,  
And sows his seed (perhaps to loss)  
yet stands in hope of gain.  
He will not once despair,  
but hope till Harvest fall:  
And then will look assuredly  
to stuff his Barns withal.  
Since these in perils point  
will never once despair,  
Then why should Lovers stand in dread  
of storms in weather fair?  
Why should they have mistrust  
some better hap to find,  
Or think that Women will not change  
as is their wonted kind?  
Though strange they seem a while  
and cruel for a space:  
Yet see thou hope at length by hap  
to find some better grace.  
For Tigers will be tame,  
and Lions that were wood,  
In time their keepers learn to know  
and come to them for food.  
What though they scorn as now  
to listen to thy suit?  
Yet thou in time when fortune serves  
shalt reap some better fruit.  
And though thy sighs they scorn  
and mock thy welling tears:  
Yet hope (I say) for after storms  
the shining Sun appears.  
And never cease to sue,  
nor from lamenting stint:  
For often drops of falling rain  
in time do pierce the Flint.  
Was never stone so strong  
nor woman's heart so hard,  
But th'one with tool, and tother with tears  
in process might be scared.   

A Letter sent by Tymetes to his Lady Pyndara at the time of his departure.  
OF Pens I had good store,  
ne Paper did I want  
When I began to write to thee:  
but Ink was somewhat scant.  
Yet Love devised a fetch,  
a friendly sleight at need:  
For I with pointed Pencil made  
my middle finger bleed.  
From whence the blood as from  
a cloven Conduit slew,  
And these few rude and skilless lines  
with quaking quill I drew.  
Now Friend I must departed  
and leave this liked land:  
Now cankered Hap doth force me take  
a new found toil in hand.  
She spites that I should live,  
or lead a quiet life:  
Ay seeking how to breed my bale  
and make my sorrows rife.  
From whence I pass I know,  
a place of pleasant bliss,  
But wither I shall I wot not well,  
I know not where it is.  
Where she by Sea or Land  
me (cruel) will compel  
To pass, or by the desert Dales,  
were very hard to tell.  
But needs I must away,  
the Western wind doth blow  
So full against my back that I  
of force from hence do go.  
Yet natheless in pawn  
(O Friend) I leave with you  
A faithful heart, that lasting life  
will show itself as true,  
As loving erst it hath:  
and if me trust you dare,  
Fill up the empty place with yours,  
if you the same may spare.  
Enclose it in my breast,  
in safety shall it lie:  
And thou shalt have thy heart again,  
if I do chance to die.  
Thus double is your gain,  
a double heart to have:  
To purchase thee another heart,  
and eke thine own to save.  
Live mindful of thy Friend,  
forget not promise passed:  
Be stout against the stubborn strokes  
of froward Fortune's blast.  
Penelope be true  
to thy Vlysses still:  
Let no new chosen Friend break off  
th●●…hréed of our good will.  
Though I on seas do pass,  
the surge will have no power  
To quench the flame that in my breast  
increaseth day and hour.  
●nd thus (the heart that is  
your own) doth wish thee well,  
With good increase of blessed haps  
sinister chance to quell.  
Adieu my chosen Friend,  
if Fortune say Amen,  
From hence I go thine own, and will  
thine own return again.   

Pyndaras answer to the Letter which Tymetes sent her at the time of his departure.  
WHen first thy Letters came  
(O loving Friend) to me,  
I leapt for joy, in hope to have  
received good news of thee,  
I never stayed upon  
those lines that were without:  
But rashl●ript the Seal, to rid  
my mind from dreadful doubt.  
Which done (Oh cruel grief)  
I saw a mournful sight:  
This Verse (of Pens I had good store)  
with Purple blood ywright.  
With floods of flowing tears  
strait drowned were mine eyes,  
On either Cheek they trickled fast  
and ran in river wies.  
My mind did ill abode,  
it yrkt to read the rest:  
For when I saw the Ink was such,  
I thought I saw the best.  
Long stood I in a dump,  
my heart began to ache:  
My Liver leapt within my bulck,  
my trembling hands did shake.  
My Senses were bereft,  
my bowing knees did bend:  
Out from my Nose the blood it broke,  
much like the Letter pend.  
Up start my staring Locks,  
I lay for dead a space:  
And what with blood and brine I all  
bedewde the dréerie place.  
From out my feeble fist  
fell Needle, cloth and all,  
I knew no Wight, I saw no Sun,  
as deaf as stone in wall.  
At last when standers by  
had brought my Sense again,  
And force of life had conquered grief  
and banished deadly pain:  
I thought the worst was passed,  
I deemed I could abide  
No greater torment than I had,  
unless I should have died.  
To viewing then again  
of bloody lines I go:  
And ever as I read the words,  
me thought I saw the blo.  
Which pointed Pencil gave,  
from whence that doleful Ink  
As from a cloven Conduit slew:  
remembrance make me shrink.  
Oh Friend Tymetes why  
so cruel were thou than?  
What didst thou mean to hurt thy flesh  
thou rash and reckless man?  
What? didst thou deem that I  
could view that gory scroll  
Withouten anguish of the mind?  
or think upon the hole  
Of that thy friendly fist  
and finger that did bleed?  
No, no, I have a with 〈…〉 heart,  
I am no Tigers see 〈…〉  
As great a grief it was  
for me to think in heart  
Of thy mishap, as if myself  
had felt the present smart.  
O cruel cursed want  
of fit Ink to write:  
Good faith that liquor was unmeet  
such loving lines tindite.  
But yet in some respect  
it fitted with the case:  
For (out alas) I read therein  
that thou hast fled the place,  
Where friendly we were wont  
like faithful friends to be:  
Where thou moughtst that with me thy fill  
and I confer with thee.  
Oh spiteful cruel Chance,  
oh cursed cankered Fate:  
Art thou a Goddess (Monster vile)  
deserving stool of State?  
O blind and muffled Dame,  
couldst thou not see to spare  
Two faithful hearts, but reaving th'one  
must breed the others care?  
No wonder 'tis that thou  
dost stand on whirling wheel:  
For by thy deeds thou dost declare  
thou canst do nought but reel.  
Art thou of Woman's kind  
and ruthful Goddess race,  
And hast no more respect unto  
a silly woman's case?  
Avaunt thou froward Fiend,  
thou so my Friend dost drive  
From shore well known to foreign coast  
our sugared joys to rive.  
If so thy mind be bend  
that my Tymetes shall  
Departed the presence of his Friend:  
Yet so do guide the ball  
As he at land may live  
not trying surge of seas:  
Nor ship him from the havens mouth  
to breed him more uncase.  
(Good Friend) adventure not  
so rashly on the flood,  
As erst thou didst in writing of  
this Letter with thy blood.  
Seek not tincrease my cares  
or double grief begun:  
Think of Leander's bold attempt  
the like distress to shoes.  
What surety is in ship?  
what trust in Oaken planks?  
What credit do the winds deserve  
at land that play such pranks?  
If houses strongly built,  
and Towers battled high,  
By force of blast be overthrown  
when Aeols Imps do fly:  
In puffing winds the Pine  
and aged Oak do tear,  
And from the bodies rend the boughs  
and lofty lugges they bear:  
Then why shouldst thou affy  
in Keale or Cable so,  
Or hazard thus thyself upon  
the tossing Seas to go?  
Hast thou not heard of yore  
how good Ulysses was  
With stormy tempest chased sore  
when he to Greece did pass?  
A weary travail he  
for ten years space abide.  
And all the while this noble Greek  
on weltering wallow slid.  
Hast thou not read in Books  
of fell Charybdis Gulf,  
And Scylla's Dogs, whom ships do dread  
as Lambs do fear the Wolf?  
Nor of the raggy Rocks  
that underlurck the wave?  
And rend the Barcks that Aeols blasts  
into their bosom drove?  
Not of the Monsters huge  
that belch out frothy phlegm,  
And singing Sirens that do drown  
both man and ship in stream?  
Alas the thought of Seas,  
and of thy passage pains  
(If once thou gauge thyself to surge)  
my heart and members strains.  
The present fits of fear  
of afterclaps to cum.  
Amaze my loving tender breast  
and Senses do benumb.  
But needs thou must away,  
(oh Friend) what hap is this  
That ere thou fly this friendly coast  
thy lips I can not kiss?  
Nor with my folded arms  
embrace that neck of thine:  
Nor clap unto thy manly breast  
these loving Dugs of mine?  
Not shed my trilling tears  
upon thy moisted face?  
Nor say to thee (Tymet adieu)  
when thou depart'st the place?  
O that I had thy form  
in waxed table now,  
To represent thy lively looks  
and friendly loving brow.  
That mought perhaps abridge  
some part of pinching pain:  
And comfort me till better chance  
did send thee home again.  
Both wind and wave at once  
conspire to work my woe,  
Or esse thou shouldst not so be forced  
from me (thine own) to go.  
O wayward Western blast  
what didst thou mean so full  
Against Tymetes back to blow,  
and him from hence to pull?  
Hast thou been counted erst  
a gentle gale of wind,  
And dost thou now at length bewray  
thy fierce and froward kind?  
I thought the Northern blast  
from frosty Pole that came  
Had been the worst of all the winds  
and most deserved blame.  
But now I plainly see  
that Poets did but feign:  
When they of Borias spoke so ill  
and of his cruel reign.  
For thou of Aeols brats  
thyself the worst dost show:  
And having no just cause to rage  
to soon beginst to blow.  
If needs thou wouldst have used  
thy force and fretting mood,  
Thou shouldst have broiled among the trees  
that in the Mountains stood:  
And let us friends alone  
that lived in perfit bliss.  
But to request the winds of ruth  
but labour lost it is.  
Well (Friend) though cruel hap  
and winds did both agree,  
That thou on sudden shouldst forego  
both country coast and me:  
Yet have I found the pawn  
which thou didst leave behind:  
I mean thy loving faithful heart,  
that never was unkind.  
And for that firm behest  
and plighted truth of your,  
Wherein you vow that love began  
shall to the death endure:  
To yield thee thy demand  
my written lines protest,  
Enclose my heart within thy bulck  
as I will thine in breast.  
Shrine up that little lump  
of friendly flesh (my Friend)  
And I will lodge in loving wise  
the guest that thou didst send.  
I joy at this exchange:  
for I assured stand,  
Thy tender heart that I do keep  
shall safely lie at land.  
Nor do I doubt at all  
but thou wilt have regard  
Of that thy charge, and woman's heart  
committed to thy ward.  
Why dost thou write of death?  
I trust thou shalt not die,  
As long as in thy manly breast  
a woman's heart doth lie.  
To cruel were the case,  
the Sisters eke were shroes:  
If they would seek the death of us.  
that are such friendly foes.  
But if the worst should fall,  
and that the cruel death  
Do stop the spindle's of our life,  
and reave us both of breath:  
Yet this doth make me joy,  
that thou shalt be the grave  
Unto my heart, and in my breast  
thy heart is Hierce shall have.  
For sure a sunder shall  
these members never go.  
As long as life in limbs doth lodge  
and breath in lungs below.  
I mindful live of thee  
and of my promise past:  
I will not seek to change my choice,  
my love is fixed fast.  
To my Tymetes I  
as faithful will be found:  
As to Ulysses was his wife  
whilst Troy was laid on ground.  
As for new choice of Friends,  
presume upon thy P.  
Thou know'st I have thy heart in breast  
and it will none but thee.  
Abandon all distrust  
and dread of misty mind:  
For to the heart (that is mine own)  
I will not be unkind.  
Adieu my chosen Friend,  
Adieu to thee again:  
Remain my love, but pray the writ  
no more with bloody Pen.  

Thine own in life, thine own in death,  
Thine own whilst lungs shall lend me breath:  
Thine own whilst I on earth do won  
Thine own whilst eye shall see the Son.    

To his absent Friend the Lover writes of his unquiet and restless state.  
THough curious skill I want to well indite,  
And I of sacred Nymphs and Muses nine  
Was never taught with Poet's pen to write,  
Nor barren brain to learning did incline  
To purchase praise, or with the best to shine:  
Yet cause my Friend shall find no want of will,  
I writ, let her accuse the lack of skill.  
No less deserves the Lamb to be embraced  
Of lowering jove at sacred Altar slain,  
If with good zeal it offered be at last  
By Irus, that do Croesus' Bullocks twain:  
For no respect is to be had of gain  
In such affairs, but to the givers heart  
And his good will our Senses must convert.  
Wherefore to thee (my Friend) these lines I send  
As perfit proof of no dissembling mind,  
But of a heart that truly doth intend  
To show itself as loving and as kind,  
As woman would her Lover wish to find:  
And more than this my Paper can declare,  
I love thee (Friend) and wish thee well to far.  
I would thou witted the torment I sustain  
For lack of her that should my woe redress,  
And that you knew some parcel of my pain,  
Which none may well by deeming judgement guess,  
Nor I with quill have cunning to express:  
I know thou couldst but rue my woeful chance,  
That by thy means was brought into this trance  
The day doth breed my dole, and rankling rage  
Of secret smart in wounded breast doth boil,  
No pleasant pang my sorrows may assuage,  
Nor give an end unto my woeful toil:  
The golden Sun that glads the earthly soil,  
And erie other thing that breeds delight  
Of kind, to me are forgers of my spite.  
I long for Phoebus' glade and going down,  
My dreary tears more covertly to shed:  
But when the night with ugly face doth frown,  
And that I am yplaste in quiet bed,  
In hope to be with wished pleasure fed:  
A greater grief, a worse pain ensues.  
My vaporde eyes their hoped sleep refues.  
Then roll I in my deep despairing breast  
The sweet disdains, and pleasant anger past,  
The lovely strifes: when Stars do counsel rest  
Encroaching cares renew my grief as fast,  
And thus desired night in woe I waste:  
And to express the heart's excessive pain,  
Mine eyes their dewy tears distill amain.  
And reason why they should be moist so,  
Is for they bred my heart this bitter bale:  
They were the only cause of cruel woe  
Unto the heart, they were the guileful stale.  
Thus day and night ytossed with churlish Gale  
Of sighs in Sea of surging brine I bide  
Not knowing how to scape the scouring Tide.  
At last the shining Rays of Hope to find  
Your friendship firm, these cloudy thoughts repel▪  
And calmed Sky returns to misty mind:  
Which deep despair again eftsoon compels  
Too fade, and ease by Dolours drift expels:  
That Gods themselves (I judge) lament my fate,  
And do repine to see my woeful state.  
Wherefore to purchase praise, and glory gain.  
Do ease your Friend that lives in wretched plight,  
Do not to death a loving heart constrain,  
But seek with love his service to requite,  
Do not exchange a Falcon for a Kite:  
Refuse him not for any friendship nue  
A worse may chance, but none more just and true  
Let Cressida mirror he that did forego  
Her former faithful friend King Priam's Son,  
And Diomed the Greek embraced so,  
And left the love so well that was begun:  
But when her Cards were told and twist ysponne  
She found her Trojan Friend the best of both  
For he renounst her not, but kept his oath.  
This don, my griping griefs will somewhat suage  
And sorrow cease to grow in pensive breast,  
Which otherwise will never blind to rage  
And crush the heart within his careful chest  
Of both for you and me it were the best,  
To save my life and win immortal fame,  
And thus my Muse shall blaze your noble name  
For ruin on my woeful case.   

The answer of a woman to her Lover, supposing his complaint to be but feigned.  
YOu want no skill to paint  
or show your pangs with Pen,  
It is a world to see the craft  
that is in subtle men.  
You seem to write of woes  
and wail for deadly smart,  
As though there were no grief, but that  
which gripes your faithless heart.  
Though we but Women are  
and weak by law of kind,  
Yet well we can discern a Friend,  
we wink, but are not blind.  
Not every thing that gives  
a gleam and glittering show,  
Is to be counted Gold in deed  
this proverb well you know:  
Nor every man that bears  
a fair and fawning cheer,  
Is to be taken for a Friend  
or chosen for a Fear:  
Not every tear declares  
the troubles of the heart,  
For some do weep that feel no woe  
some cry that taste no smart.  
The more you seem to me  
in woeful wise to plain,  
The sooner I persuade myself  
that you do nought but fain.  
The Crocodile by kind  
a flood of tears doth shed  
Yet hath no cause of cruel cry  
by craft, this Fiend is led.  
For when the seely soul  
that meant no hurt at all  
Approacheth near, the slipper ground  
doth give the beast a fall,  
Which is no sooner done  
but strait the monster vile,  
For sorrow that did weep so sore  
for joy begins to smile:  
Even so you men are wont  
by fraud your friends to train  
And make in wise you could not sleep  
in careful Couch for pain:  
When you in deed do nought  
but take your nightly nap,  
Or having slept do set your snare  
and till your guileful trap.  
Your brains as busy be  
in thinking how to snare  
Us women, as your pillows soft  
and bowlsters pleasant are.  
As for your days delights  
ourselves can witness well  
To sundry women sundry tales  
of sundry jests you tell:  
And all to win their loves:  
which when you do attain  
Within a while you show your kinds  
and give them up in plain.  
A Falcon is full hard  
amongst you men to find,  
For all your manners more agree  
unto the Kytish kind:  
For gentle is the one  
and loves his keepers hand,  
But tother Busserdlike doth scorn  
on Fawckners' fist to stand.  
For one good turn the one  
a thousand will requite,  
But use the other near so well  
he showeth himself a Kite.  
If Cresyd did amiss  
the Trojan to forsake  
Then Dyom edes did not well  
that did the Lady take.  
Was never woman false,  
but man as false as she  
And commonly the men do make  
that women slipper be.  
Wherefore leave off your plaints  
and take the sheet of shame  
To shroud your cloaking hearts from cold  
and feigning brows from blame.  
If she that reads this rhyme,  
be wise as I could wish,  
She will avoid the baited hook  
that takes the biting fish.  
And shoes the limed twig  
the flying Fowl that ties  
Tis good to fear of cry bush  
where thread of thraldom lies.   

The Lover exhorteth his Lady to take time, while time is.  
THough brave your Beauty be  
and feature passing fair,  
Such as Apelles to depaint  
might utterly despair:  
Yet drowsy drooping Age.  
encroaching on apace,  
With pensive Plough will raze your hue  
and Beauties beams deface.  
Wherefore in tender years  
how crooked Age doth haste  
Revoke to mind, so shall you not  
your mind consume in waste.  
Whilst that you may, and youth  
in you is fresh and green,  
Delight yourself: for years to fit  
as fickle floods are seen.  
For water slipped by  
may not be called again:  
And to revoke forepast hours  
were labour lost in vain.  
Take time whilst time applies  
with nimble foot it goes:  
Nor to compare with passed Prime  
thy after age suppoes.  
The holtes that now are hoar,  
both bud and bloume I saw:  
I ware a Garland of the Briar  
that puts me now in awe.  
The time will be when thou  
that dost thy Friends defy,  
A cold and crooked Beldame shalt  
in loathsome cabin lie:  
Nor with such nightly brawls  
thy postern Gate shall sound,  
Nor Roses strawde affront thy door  
in dawning shall be found.  
How soon are Corpses (Lord)  
with filthy furrows filled?  
How quickly Beauty, brave of late,  
and seemly shape is spilled?  
Even thou that from thy youth  
to have been so, wilt swear:  
With turn of hand in all thy head  
shalt have grey powdered hear.  
The Snakes with shifted skins  
their loathsome age dooway:  
The Buck doth hang is head on pale  
to live a longer day.  
Your good without recure  
doth pass, receive the flower:  
Which if you pluck not from the stalk  
will fall within this hour.   

The Lover wisheth to be conjoined and fast linked with his Lady never to sunder.  
I Read how Salmacis sometime with sight  
On sudden looude Cyllenus Son, and sought  
Forthwith with all her power and forced might  
Too bring to pass her close conceived thought:  
Whom as by hap she saw in open mead  
She sued unto, in hope to have been speed.  
With sugared words she wood & spared no speech,  
But boarded him with many a pleasant tale,  
Requesting him of, ruth to be her Leech  
For whom she had abid such bitter bale:  
But he replete with pride and scornful cheer  
Disdained her earnest suit and songs to hear.  
Away she went a woeful wretched Wight,  
And shrouded her not far from thence a space:  
When that at length the stripling law in sight  
No creature there, but all were out of place,  
He shifts his robes and to the river ran,  
And there to bathe him bore the Boy began.  
The Nymph in hope as then to have attained  
Her long desired Love, retired to flood  
And in her arms the naked Noorie strained:  
Whereat the Boy began to strive a good,  
But struggling nought availed in that plight  
For why the Nymph surpassed the Boy in might.  
O Gods (quoth though the Girl) this gift I crave  
This Boy and I may never part again,  
But so our corpses may conjoined have  
As one we may appear, not bodies twain:  
The Gods agreed, the water so it wrought,  
As both were one, thyself would so have thought.  
As from a tree we sundry times espy.  
A twissell grow by Nature's subtle might,  
And being two, for cause they grow so nigh  
For one are ta'en, and so appear in sight.  
So was the Nymph and Noorie joined yfere,  
As two no more but one self thing they were.  
O Lady mine, how might we seem ybest?  
How friendly mought we Gods account to be?  
In semblant sort if they would breed my rest  
By linking of my carcase unto thee?  
So that we might no more a sunder go,  
But limbs to limbs, & corpse to carcase grow?  
O, where is now become that blessed Lake  
Wherein those two did bath to both their joy?  
How might we do, or such provision make  
To have the hap as had the Maiden Boy?  
To alter form and shape of either kind,  
And yet in proof of both a share to find?  
Then should our limbs with lovely link be tide,  
And hearts of hate no taste sustain at all,  
But both for aye in perfit league abide  
And each to other live as friendly thrall:  
That th'one might feel the pangs the other had  
And partner be of aught that made him glad.  
O blessed Nymph, O. Salmacies I say,  
Would thy good luck unto her lot would light  
Whom I embrace, and loven shall for aye,  
By force of flood to change her nature quite:  
And that I might have hap as had the Boy  
To never part from her that is my joy..  
I would not strive, I would not stir a whit,  
(As did Cyllenus Sun that stately Wight:)  
But well content to be Hermaphrodit,  
Would cling as close to thee as ere I might,  
And laugh to think my hap so good to be,  
As in such sort fast to be linked with thee.   

The Lover hoping assuredly of attaining his purpose, after long suit, gins to joy renouncing dolours.  
BE far from me you woeful wonted cries,  
Adieu Despair, that mad'st my heart agries:  
Ye sobbing sighs farewell & pensive plaint,  
Resign your rooms to joy, the long restraint  
Without desert endured.  
Reject those ruthful Rhymes thou (quaking Quill)  
Which both declared my woe and want of skill:  
(Mine eyes) that long have had my Love in chase,  
With tears no more imbrue your Mistress face  
But to your Springs retire.  
And thou (my heart) that long for lark of Grace  
Forepinde hast been and in a doleful case,  
Lament no more, let all such gripings go  
As bred thy bale, and nursed thy cankered woe  
With milk of mournful Dug.  
To Venus do your due (you Senses all)  
And to her Son to whom you are in thrall:  
To Cupid bend thy knee and thanks repay  
That after lingered suit, and long delay  
Hath brought thy ship to shore.  
Let crabbed Fortune now express her might,  
And do thy worst to me thou stinging spite:  
My heart is well defenst against your force,  
For she hath vowed on me to have remorse  
Whom I have looude so long.  
Henceforth exchange thy cheer and woeful voice  
That hast yfound such matter to rejoice:  
With merry quill and pen of pleasant plight  
Thy blissful haps and fortune to indite  
Enforce thy barren Skull.   

The Lover to his careful bed declaring his restless state.  
THou that wert erst a restful place  
dost now renew my smart,  
And wonted eke to salve my sore  
that now increasest woe,  
Unto my careful Corpse an ease,  
a torment to my heart,  
Once quieter of mind perdie,  
now an unquiet fo:  
The place sometime of slumbering sleep  
wherein I may but wake,  
Drenched in Sea of saltish brine  
(O bed) I thee forsake.  
¶ No Ice of Apenynus top  
my flaming fire may quent,  
Ne heat of brightest Phoebus beams  
may bate my chilly cold,  
Nought is of stately strength enough  
my sorrows to relent,  
But (such is hap) renewed cares  
are added to the old:  
Such furious fits and fond affects  
in me my fancies make,  
That bathed all in trickling tears  
(O bed) I thee forsake.  
¶ The dreams that daunt my dazed head  
are pleasant for a space,  
Whilst yet I lie in slumbering sleep  
my carcase feels no woe,  
For cause I seem with clasped arms  
my Lover to embrace:  
But when I wake, and find away  
that did delight me so,  
Then in comes care to pleasures place  
that makes my limbs to quake,  
That all besprent with brackish brine  
(O bed) I thee forsake.  
¶ No sooner stirs Aurora's Star,  
the lightest Lamp of all,  
But they that rousted were in rest  
not fraught with fearful dreams,  
Do pack apace to labours left  
and to their task do fall:  
When I awaking all enraged  
do baine my breast with streams,  
And make my smoky sighs to Skies  
their upward way to take,  
Thus with a surge of tears bedewde  
(O bed) I thee forsake.  
¶ Thus hurled from hungry Hope by Hap  
I die, yet am alive,  
From pangs of plaint to fits of fume  
my restless mind doth run,  
With rage and fancy Reason fights,  
they altogether strive,  
Resistance vaileth nought at all,  
for I am quickly won:  
Thus seeking rest no ruth I find  
that gladsome joy may make,  
Wherefore consumed with flowing tears  
(O bed) I thee forsake.   

¶ An Epitaph and woeful verse of the death of sir john Tregonwell Knight, and learned Doctor of both Laws  
ANd can you cease from plaint,  
or keep your Conduits dry?  
May saltish brine within your breasts  
in such a tempest lie?  
Where are your scalding sighs  
the fittest food of pain?  
And where are now thy welling tears  
I ask thee once again?  
Hast thou not heard of late  
The loss that hath befell?  
If not, myself (unhappy Wight)  
will now begin to tell:  
(Though grief perhaps will grudge,  
and stay my faltering tongue)  
From whence this ragged root of ruth  
and mourning mood is sprung.  
Was dwelling in this sheer  
a man of worthy fame:  
A justicer for his desert,  
Tregonwell was his name.  
A Doctor at the Laws,  
a Knight among the more:  
A Cato for good counsel called  
as he in years did grow.  
A Patron to the poor,  
a Rampire to the rest:  
As lief unto the simple sort  
as friendly to the best.  
No blind affect his eye  
in judgement blearde at all:  
Whose righteous verdict and decree  
was quite devoid of gall.  
If he in hateful hearts  
(where root of rancour grew)  
Of faithful friendship seeds might sow,  
no pains he would eschew.  
Minerva thought of like  
and Nature did consent,  
To prove in him by skilful Art  
what either could invent.  
A plot of such a price  
was never framed before:  
To show their power the Heavens had  
Tregonwell kept in store.  
The Prince did him embrace,  
and sought him to advance,  
And better former state of birth  
by furthering of his chance.  
He still was ready bend  
his service to bestow,  
Thereby unto his native soil  
if grateful gain might grow.  
If sage advise were scarce  
and wholesome counsel scant,  
Then should you see Tregonwels' help  
ne wisdom would not want.  
When Legates came from far  
(as is there wonted guise)  
To treat of truce, or talk of war  
as matters did arise:  
Tregonwell then was called  
his verdict to express:  
Who for the most part in the case  
of fruitful things could guess.  
Or if himself were sent  
(which hap Tregonwell had)  
Into a far and foreign land,  
than was Tregonwell glad.  
For so he might procure  
wealepublick by his pain:  
It was no corsie to this Knight  
long travail to sustain.  
But what? undaunted death  
that seeks to conquer all,  
And Atropos that Goddess stern  
at length have spit their gall:  
And reft us such a one  
as was a Phoenix true,  
Save that now of his cindrie Corfe  
there riseth not a nue.  
Where may you see his match?  
where shall you find his leek?  
None, though you from the farthest East  
unto the Ocean seek.  
O house without thy head,  
O ship without a steer:  
Thy Palynurus now is dead  
as shortly will appear.  
In danger of distress  
this Knight was ever wont  
To yield himself to perils priest,  
and bide the greatest broont.  
No tumults tempest could  
subdue his constant heart:  
Ne would the man by any means  
once from his country start.  
But (oh) it nought avails,  
for death doth strike the stroke  
In things humane, no worldly wealth  
his friendship may provoke.  
Let Troyans' now leave off  
by mourning to lament  
The loss of Priam and his town,  
when ten years war was spent.  
Ye Romans lay your Hoods  
and black attire away:  
Bewail no more your Fabians fall  
nor that sinister day  
That rest a Noble race  
which might have flourished long:  
For neither loss is like to this  
our not deserved wrong.  
Now Cornwall thou mayst crack,  
and Dorset thou mastery:  
For th'one hath bred, and tother lost  
Tregonwell suddenly.  
Whose corpse though earthed be  
in loathsome lumps of soil,  
His peerless praise by virtue won  
shall never fear the foil.  
Who so therefore shalt see  
this Marble where he lies:  
Wish that Tregonwels' soul may find  
a place above the Skies,  
And reach a room of rest  
appointed for the nonce:  
For in this Tomb interred is  
but flesh and bared bones.   

The Lover confesseth himself to be in Love and enamoured of Mistress. P.  
IF banished sleep, and watchful care,  
If mind affright with dreadful dreams:  
If torments rife, and pleasure rare,  
If face besmearde with often streams:  
If change of cheer from joy to smart,  
If altered hue from pale to red:  
If faltering tongue with trembling heart,  
If sobbing sighs with fury fed:  
If sudden hope by fear oppressed,  
If fear by hope suppressed again,  
Be proves that love within the breast  
Hath bound the heart with fancies chain:  
Then I of force no longer may  
In covert keep my piercing flame,  
Which ever doth itself bewray  
But yield myself to fancies frame.  
And now in fine to be a thrall  
To her that hath my heart in give,  
She may enforce me rise or fall  
Till Death my limbs of life deprive.  
P. with her beauty hath bereft  
My freedom from my thralled mind,  
And with her loving looks ycleft  
My reason through both Bark and Rind.  
Yet well therewith I am content  
In mind to take it patiently,  
Since sure I am she will relent  
And not enforce her Friend to die.  
So I in recompense may have  
nought but a faithful heart again:  
Then other friendship nill I crave,  
But think my love ylent to gain.   

That all things have release of pain save the Lover, that hoping and dreading never taketh ease.  
WHat so the Golden Sun  
beholds with blazing light,  
When pain is passed hath time to take  
his comfort and delight.  
The Ox with lumpish pace  
and leisure that doth draw,  
Hath respite after toil is past  
to fill his empty maw.  
The lolearde Ass that bears  
the burden on his back.  
His duty done to stable plods,  
and reacheth to the rack.  
The Dear hath wonted soil  
his fervent heat to suage:  
When work hath end to respite runs  
the Peasant and the Page.  
The Owl that hates the day  
and loves to flee by night,  
Hath queachie bushes to defend  
him from Apollo's sight.  
Each Coney hath a Cave,  
each little Fowl a Nest  
To shroud them in at needful times  
to take their needful rest.  
Thus viewing course of kind  
it is not on the ground,  
That at some time doth not resort  
where is his comfort found:  
Save me (O cursed man)  
whom neither Sun ne shade  
Doth serve the burden of my breast  
and sorrows to unlade.  
Each sport porcures my smart,  
each seemly sight annoy:  
Each pleasant tune torments mine ease  
and reaves my hoped joy.  
No Music sounds so sweet  
as doth the doleful Drum,  
For somewhat near unto my smart  
that mournful sound doth cum.  
A Galley slave I seem  
unto myself to be:  
The Master that doth guide the ship  
hath near an eye to see.  
You know where such a one  
as Cupid is doth steer,  
Amid the Gulf of deep despair  
great peril must appear.  
In stead of streaming sails  
he wishes hangs aloft:  
Which if in tempest chance to tear  
the Bark will come to nought.  
For wind are scalding sighs  
and secret sobbings priest:  
Mixed with a cloud of stormy tears  
to baine the lovers breast.  
Though Cupid near so well  
his beaten Bark do guy,  
By fleeing flats and sinking sands  
that in the wallow lie:  
Yet those that are a board  
must ever stand in awe,  
For cause a Buzzard is their guide  
not forcing any flaw:  
That follows none advice,  
but bluntly runs on head,  
As proud as Peacock over those  
that in his chain or led.  
Thus may you plainly see  
that each thing hath release  
Of pensive pain, save Cupid's thralls  
whose torments aye increase.   

A poor Ploughman to a Gentleman, for whom he had taken a little pains.  
YOur Coulter cuts the soil that erst was sown  
Your Harvest was forereaped long ago,  
Your Sickle shears the Meadow that was mown,  
Ere you the toil of Tilmans trade did know:  
Good faith you are beholding to the man  
That so for you your husbandry began.  
He craves of you no Silver for his Seed,  
Ne doth demand a penny for his Grain,  
But if you stand at any time in need,  
(Good Master) be as bold with him again.  
You can not do a greater pleasure than  
To choose you such a one to be your man.   

To his Friend: P. of courting, travailing, Dicing, and tennis.  

TO live in Court among the Crew is care,  
Is nothing there but daily diligence,  
Nor Cap nor Knee, nor money must thou spare,  
The Prince his haul is place of great expense.   

In rotten ribbed Bark to pass the Seas  
The foreign lands and straungie sites to see,  
Doth danger dwell: the passage breeds unease,  
Not safe the soil, the men unfriendly be.   

Admit thou see the strangest things of all?  
When eye is turned the pleasant sight is gone:  
The treasure then of travail is but small,  
Wherefore (Friend P.) let all such toys alone.   

To shake the bones, and cog the crafty Dice,  
To Card in care of sudden loss of Pence,  
Unseemly is, and taken for a vice:  
Unlawful play can have no good pretence.   

Too band the Ball doth cause the Coin to waste,  
It melts as Butter doth against the Sun,  
nought save thy pain, when play doth cease, that haste:  
Too study then is best when all is done.  
For study stays and brings a pleasant gain,  
When play doth pass as glare with gushing rain.    

The Lover declares that unless he utter his sorrows by suit, of force he dieth.  
Like as the Gun that hath to great a charge,  
And Pellet to the Powder ramde so sore,  
As neither of both hath power to go at large,  
Till shiverd flaws in sounding Skies do roar:  
Even so my careful breast that fraughted is  
With Cupid's ware, & cloyed with lurking Love,  
Unless I should disclose my drerinis,  
And out of hand my troubled thoughts remove:  
A sunder would my cumbered Carcase flee,  
The heart would break the overcharged Chase  
Of pensive breast, and you (my Love) should see  
Your faithful Friend in lamentable case.  
Wherefore do what you may in gentle wyes  
The Gunner to assist in time of need,  
And when you see the Pellet pierce the Skies,  
And Powder make a proof of hidden gleed:  
Rue on his case, and seek to quite his woe,  
Lest in short time his Gun too pieces go.   

The Lover to a Friend that wrote him this sentence. Yours assured to the death.  
O Faithful Friend thrice happy was the fist  
In so few words to such effect that wrought:  
O friendly heart a thousand fold yblist  
That hath conceived so just and joyful thought,  
As not till death from pawned love to bend  
But Friend at first and Friend to be at end.  
Wherefore to countervail those words of thine,  
And quit thy love with faithful heart again,  
I vow that I will never once decline  
A foot from that I am for loss or gain:  
If thou be mine till death, I the assure  
To be thy Friend as long as life shall dure.   

Of certain Flowers sent him by his Love upon suspicion of change  
YOur Flowers for their hue  
were fresh and fair to see:  
Yet was your meaning not so true  
as you it thought to be.  
In that you sent me Bame,  
I judge you meant thereby,  
That clean extinct was all my flame  
from whence no sparks did fly.  
Your Fenell did declare  
(as simple men can show)  
That flattery in my breast I bore  
where friendship ought to grow.  
A daisy doth express  
great folly to remain,  
I speak it not by rote or guess,  
your meaning was so plain.  
Rosemary put in mind  
that Bays wear out of thought:  
And Loveinydle came behind  
for Love that long was sought.  
Your Cowslips did portend  
that care was laid away:  
And eglantine did make an end  
where sweet with sour lay:  
As though the leaves at furst  
were sweet when Love began:  
But now in proof the pricks were cursed,  
and hurtful to the man..   

The Answer to the same.  
PErdie I need no Bame  
ne forced heat by charm,  
To set my burning breast in flame  
whom Cupid's gleams do warm,  
On Bays is my delight,  
Remembrance is not past:  
Though daisy hit the nail aright,  
my Friendship aye shall last.  
Though Love in idle be,  
yet will I not forego  
Ne cast off care as you shall see,  
and time the troth shall show.  
So I may taste the sweet,:  
I force not on the sour  
The more is joy when Friends do meet,  
that Fortune erst did lower.  
Your Fenell failed quite  
where such good faith is meant:  
For Bays are only my delight  
though I for Bays be shent.   

Of a Fox that would eat no Grapes.  
BY fortune came a Fox,  
where grew a lofty Vine,  
I will no Grapes (quoth he)  
this yard is none of mine:  
The Fox would none because that he  
Perceiude the highness of the Tree.  
¶ So men that Forlie are,  
and long their lust to have,  
But cannot come thereby,  
make wise they would not crave:  
Those subtle Merchants will no Wine  
Because they cannot reach the Vine.   

Of the strange countenance of an aged Gentlewoman.  
IT makes me laugh a good to see thee lower,  
and long to looken sad:  
For when thy crabbed countenance is so sour,  
thou art to seeming glad.  
I blame not thee but nature in his case,  
That might bestowed on thee a better grace.   

To the Roving Pirate.  
THou winste thy wealth by war  
ungodly way to gain:  
And in an hour thy ship is sunk  
goods drowned, the Pirate slain.  
The Gun is all thy trust,  
it serves thy cruel foe  
Then brag not on thy Canon shot  
As thought there were no more.   

Of one that had little Wit.  
I Thee advise  
If thou be wise  
To keep thy wit  
Though it be small:  
Tis rare to get  
And far to fet,  
Twas ever yet  
Dearste ware of all.   

In commendation of Wit.  
Wit far exceedeth wealth,  
Wit Princely pomp excels,  
Wit better is than Beauty's beams  
Where Pride and Danger dwells.  
Wit matcheth Kingly Crown,  
Wit masters Witless rage:  
Wit rules the fond affects of youth,  
Wit guides the steps of Age.  
Wit wants no Reason's skill  
a faithful Friend to know:  
Wit wots full well the way to void  
the smooth and fleering foe.  
Wit knows what best becomes  
and what unseemly shows:  
Wit hath a wile to ware the worst,  
Wit all good fashion knows:  
Since Wit by wisdom can  
do this and all the rest,  
That I employ my painful head  
to come by Wit is best.  
Whom if I might attain,  
than Wit and I were one:  
But till time Wit and I do cope,  
I shall be post alone.   

An answer in dispraise of Widow  
THe Wit you so commend  
with wealth cannot compare:  
For wealth is able Wit to win  
when Wit is waxed bare.  
Wit hath no Beauties beams,  
to Kingly crown it yields:  
Wit subject is to wilful rage,  
Rage Wit and Reason wéeldes.  
Wit rules not witless youth,  
nor aged steps doth guide:  
Wit knows not how to win a friend,  
Wit is so full of pride.  
Wit wots not how to fly  
the smooth and flattering gest:  
Wit cannot well discern the thing  
that doth become it best.  
Wit hath no wile to aware  
mishap before it fall,  
Wit knows not what good fashion means,  
Wit can do nought at all.  
Since Wit by wisdom can  
do nothing as you ween,  
If you do toil to come by Wit,  
then are you over seen.  
Whom when you do attain,  
though Wit and you seem one:  
Yet Wit will to another when  
your back is turned and gone.   

The Lover to Cupid for mercy, declaring how first he became his thrall, with the occasion of his defiing Love, and now at last what caused him to convert.  
O Mighty Lord of Love  
Dame Venus only joy,  
Whose Princely power doth far surmount  
all other heavenly Roy:  
I that have swarude thy laws  
and wandered far astray:  
Have now retired to thee again  
thy statutes to obey.  
And so thou wouldst vouchsafe  
to let me plead for grace:  
I would before thy Bar declare  
a silly lovers case.  
I would depaint at full  
how first I was thy man:  
And show to that what was the cause  
that I from Cupid ran.  
And how I have since that  
yspent my weary time:  
As I shall tell, so thou shalt here  
declared in doleful rhyme.  
In green and tender age  
(my Lord) till xvij years,  
I spent my time as fitted youth  
in School among my Féeares  
As than no Beard at all  
was grown upon my Chin,  
Which well approoude that man's estate  
I was not entered in.  
I need not tell the names  
of Authors which I read,  
Of Proes and Verse we had enough  
to fine the dullest head.  
But I was chief bend  
to Poets famous Art,  
To them with all my devor I  
my study did convert.  
Where when I had with joy  
yspent my time a while:  
The rest refused, I gave me whole  
to Nasos Noble style.  
Whose volumes when I saw  
with pleasant stories fright:  
In him (I say) above the rest  
I laid my whole delight.  
What should I here rehearse  
with base and barren Pen,  
The linked tales and filled stuff  
that I perused then?  
In fine it was my loare  
upon that part to light  
Wherein he teacheth youth to love,  
and women win by slight  
Which Treatise when I had  
with judging eye surveyed:  
At last I found thy Godly kind  
and Princely power displayed.  
Of Cupid all that Book  
and of his reign did ring,  
The Poet there of Venus did  
in sugared Ditty sing.  
There read I of thy shafts  
and of thy golden Bow,  
Thy shafts which by their divers heads  
their divers kinds did show.  
I saw how by thy force  
thou madest men to stoop:  
And grisly Gods by secret slight  
and Devilish Imps to droop.  
There were depainted plain  
thy quick and quiver wings,  
And what so else doth touch thy power  
there Ovid sweetly sings.  
There I thy Conquests saw  
and many a noble spoil:  
With names annexed to the same  
of such as had the foil.  
There Matrons marched along  
and Maidens in their Roe,  
Both Fauns and Satyrs there I saw  
with Neptune's troop also.  
With other thousands else  
which Naso there doth write,  
But not my Pen or barren Skull  
is able to recite.  
O mighty Prince (quoth I)  
of such a fearful force,  
How blessed were I, so thou of me  
wouldst deign to take remorse?  
And choose me for thy thrall  
among the rest to be,  
That live in hope and serve in trust  
as waged men to thee?  
With that (thy Godhead knows)  
thou givest a friendly look:  
And (though unworthy such a place)  
me to thy service took.  
In token I was thine  
I had a badge of Blue  
With sables set, and charge withal  
that I should aye be true.  
Thou badste me follow Hope  
who though thy Ensign bare.  
And so I might not do amiss,  
thus didst thyself declare.  
Then who rejoiced but I?  
who thought himself yblist?  
That was in Cupid's service placed  
as bravely as the best?  
And thus in lusty youth  
I grew to be your thrall,  
And was (I witness of thy Dame)  
right well content withal.  
But now I mind to show  
(as promiss was to do)  
How first I fled thy Tents, and why  
thy camp I did forego.  
When I had been retained  
well nigh a year or more,  
And served in place of wage and meed  
as is the Soldiers lere:  
I chanced by hap to cast  
my floating eyes awry,  
And so a Dame of passing shape  
my fortune was to spy.  
On whom Dame Nature thought  
such beauty to bestow,  
As she had never framed before  
as proof did plainly show.  
On her I gazed a while  
till use of sense was fled:  
And colour Paper white before  
was waxen Scarlet red.  
I felt the kindled sparks  
to flashing flames to grow:  
And so on sudden I did love  
the Wight I did not know.  
Then to thy Palace I  
with froward foot did run,  
And what I said, I mind it yet,  
for thus my tale begun.  
O Noble Sir (quoth I)  
is this your free assent  
I should pursue a Game unknown  
within your stately Tent?  
If so (quoth I) thou wilt,  
and giuste the same in charge:  
I mind of all my bridled lust  
to let the reins at large.  
Then (Hope) did prick me forth  
and bade me be of cheer:  
Who said I should within a while  
subdue my Noble Fear.  
He counseled me to shun  
no dreadful dangers place,  
But follow him who Banner bore  
unto your Noble grace.  
He would maintain my right  
and further aye my cause,  
And banish all despair that grew  
by froward fortunes flaws.  
Tis Cupid's will (quoth he)  
our Master and our Lord  
That thou with manly heart and hand  
shouldst lay the Bark aboard.  
She shall not choose but yield  
the fruit for passed pains:  
For she is one of Cupid's thralls,  
and bound in Venus' Chains.  
Thinkest thou our master will  
his servant live in woe?  
No not for all his golden Darts  
ne yet his crooked Bow.  
Wherefore with lucky Mart  
give charge unto the Wight:  
Take Spear in hand, and Targe on arm,  
and do with courage fight.  
With that, I armed me well  
as fits a warring man,  
And to the place of friendly fight  
with lusty foot I ran.  
My Foe was there before  
I came unto the field,  
I thought Bellona had been there  
or Pallas with her shield.  
So well she was beset  
with Plate and privy Mail,  
As for my life my limber Lance  
might not a whit prevail.  
Yet natheless with Spear  
and Shield, we fought a space:  
But last of all we took our Bows  
and Arrows from the case.  
Then Darts we 'gan to sling  
in wide and weightless Skies:  
And then the fiercest fight of all  
and combat did arise.  
In stead of shivering shafts,  
light loving looks we cast,  
And there I found myself too weak  
her Arrows went so fast.  
But one above the rest  
did cleave my breast so far,  
As down it went, where lay my heart,  
and there it gave a jar.  
So cruel was the stroke,  
so sudden eke the wound,  
As by the fearful force I fell  
into a senseless sound.  
Thus having no refuge  
to quite myself from death:  
I made a vow to love her well  
whilst Lungs should lend me breath.  
And since that time I have  
endevorde with my might  
To win her love, but nought prevails  
she ways it not a Mite.  
She scorns my yielding heart,  
not forcing on my Hest:  
But by disdain of cloudy brow  
doth further my unrest.  
Yet ruthless though she were,  
and farced full of ire:  
I looude her well as heart could think,  
or woman might desire.  
I sought to frame my speech  
and countenance in such sort,  
As she my covert heart might see  
by show of outward port.  
To Troilus half so true  
unto his Creside was  
As I to her, who for her face  
did Trojan Creside pass.  
At length, when Reason saw  
me sotted so in love  
As I ne would, ne might at all  
my fancy thence remove:  
She caused her Trump be blown  
to city her servants all  
Into the place, by whose advise  
I might be rid from thrall.  
Then Plato first appeared  
with sage and solemn saws:  
And in his hand a golden book  
of good and greekish laws  
Whose honey mouth such wise  
and weighty words did tell:  
'Gainst thee and all thy troop at once  
as Reason liked it well.  
When Plato's tale was done,  
than Tully priest in place:  
Whose filled tongue with sugared talk  
would good a simple case.  
With open mouth I heard  
and jaws ystrecht a wide,  
How he 'gainst Venus' darlings all  
and Cupid's captives cried.  
Then Plutarch 'gan to preach  
and by examples prove,  
That thousand mischiefs were procured  
by mean of guileful love.  
Whole Cities brought to spoil,  
and Realms to shameful sack:  
Where Kings and Rulers good advice  
by mean of Love did lack?  
Next Plutarch, Senec came  
severe in all his saws:  
Who clean defied your wanton tricks,  
and scorned your childish laws.  
I need not name the rest  
that stood as then in place:  
But thousands more there were that sought  
your Godhead to deface.  
When all the Hall was hushed,  
and Sages all had done:  
Then Reason that in judgement sat  
her skilful talk begun.  
Gramercy Friends (quoth she)  
your counsel likes me well:  
But now lend ear to Reason's words  
and listen what I tell.  
What madness may be more  
than such a Lord to have,  
Who makes the chieftain of his band  
a rude and rascal slave?  
Who wonted is to yield  
in recompense of pain,  
A ragged recompense God w●te  
that turns to mere disdain?  
Who gladly would ensue  
a Conduct that is blind?  
Or thrall himself to such a one  
as shows himself unkind?  
What Ploughman would be glad  
to sow his seed for gain,  
And reap when Harvest time comes on  
but travail for his pain?  
What madman might endure  
to watch and ward for nought?  
To ride, to run, and last to lose  
the recompense he sought?  
To waste the day in woe,  
and restless night in care,  
And have in stead of better food  
but sobbing for his fare?  
To blear his eyes with brine  
and salted tears yshead:  
To force his fainting flesh to fade,  
his colour pale and dead?  
And to foredoe with cark  
his wretched witherde heart?  
And so to breed his bitter bale  
and hatch his deadly smart?  
I speak it to this fine,  
that plainly might appear  
cupido's craft and guileful guise  
to him that standeth here.  
Whose eyes with fancies missed  
and errors clouds are dim,  
By mean that he in Venus' Lake  
and Cupid's gulf doth swim.  
And hath by sudden sight  
of unacquainted shape  
So fixed his heart, as hope is passed  
for ever to escape.  
Unless to these my words  
a listening ear he lend:  
Which oft art wont the lovers mind  
and fancy to offend.  
But he that would his health  
sour Sirops must assay:  
For erie grief hath cure again  
by clean repugnant way.  
And who so minds to quite  
and rid himself from woe,  
Must seek in time for to remove  
the thing that hurts him so.  
For longer that it lasts  
it frets the farther in  
Until it grow to cureless main  
by passing fell and skin.  
The Pine that bears his head  
up to the haughty Sky,  
Would well have been removed at first  
as daily proof doth try:  
Which now no force of man  
nor engine may subvart:  
So wide the creeping roots are run  
by Nature's subtle Art:  
So Love by slender sleight  
and little pain at furst  
Would have been stopped, but hardly now  
though thou wouldst do thy worst,  
The wonted saw is true,  
shun Love, and Love will flee,  
But follow Love and spite thy nose  
then Love will follow thee.  
And though such graffed thoughts  
on sudden may not die,  
Ne be foregone: yet process shall  
their farther growth destrie.  
No Giant for his life  
can cleave a knarly Oak,  
Though he would seek to do his worst  
and utmost at a stroke:  
But let the meanest man  
have space to sell him down,  
And he will make him bend his head  
and bring his boughs to ground.  
No force of falling shower  
can pierce the Marble stone,  
As will the often drops of rain  
that from the gutters gone.  
Wherefore thou reckless man  
my counsel with the more  
Is, that thou piecemeal do expel  
the love that pains thee so.  
Renounce the place where she  
doth make sojourn and stay:  
Force not her training truthless eyes,  
but turn thy face away.  
Think that the hurtful hook  
is covered with such bait:  
And that in such a pleasant plot  
the Serpent lurcks in wait.  
Way well her scornful cheer,  
and think she seeks thy spoil:  
And though thy conquest were atchiude  
may not acquit thy toil:  
Not idle see thou be,  
take aye some charge in hand:  
And quickly shalt thou quench the flame  
of careless Cupid's brand.  
For what (I pray you) bred  
Aegisthus fowl defame?  
And made him spoken of so ill?  
what put him to the shame?  
What forced the Fool to love.  
his beastly idle life  
Was cause that he besotted was  
of Agamemnon's Wife.  
If he had fought in field  
encountering with his Foe,  
On stately steed, or else on foot  
with glaive had given the blow:  
If he that Lecher lewd  
had warlike walls assailed  
With Cannon shot, or bouncing Ram  
his fenced enemies quailed:  
He had not felt such force  
of vile and beastly sin,  
cupido's shafts had fallen short  
if he had busy been.  
What Myrrah made to love,  
or Byblos to desire  
To quench the heat of hungry lust  
and flames of filthy fire?  
What Canace enforced  
to fry with frantic brands,  
In sort as up to yield herself  
unto her brother's hands?  
And others thousand more  
of whom the Poet's wright?  
Nought else (good faith) but for they had  
in idle thoughts delight.  
They spent their youthful years  
in foul and filthy trade,  
They busied not their idle brains  
but God of Pleasure made.  
Wherefore if thou (I say)  
dost covet to avoid  
That bedlam Boys deceitful Bow  
that others hath annoyed:  
Eschew the idle life,  
flee, flee from doing nought:  
For never was there idle brain  
but bred an idle thought.  
And when those storms are past  
and clouds removed away:  
I know thou wilt on (Reason) think  
and mind the words I say.  
Which are: 
Discomodities of love.  that Love is root  
and only crop of care,  
The body's foe, the heart's annoy,  
and cause of pleasures rare.  
The sickness of the mind,  
the Fountain of unrest:  
The gulf of guile, the pit of pain,  
of grief the hollow Chest.  
A fiery frost, a flame  
that frozen is with Ice,  
A heavy burden light to bear,  
a Virtue fraught with Vice.  
It is a Warlike peace,  
a safety set in dread,  
A deep despair annexed to hope,  
a famine that is fed.  
Sweet poison for his taste,  
a port Charybdis leek,  
A Scylla for his safety thought,  
a Lion that is meek.  
And (by my Crown I swear)  
the longer thou dost love,  
The longer shalt thou live a Thrall  
as tract of time will prove.  
Wherefore retire in haste  
and speed thee home again,  
And pardoned shall thy trespass be,  
and thou exempt from pain.  
Take Reason for thy guide  
as thou hast done of yore:  
And spite of Love thou shalt not love  
ne be a thrall no more.  
Repair to Plato's school,  
and Tully's true advice:  
Let Plutarch be and Seneca  
thy teachers to be wise.  
This long and learned tale  
had bruised so my brain:  
As I forthwith to reason ran,  
and gave thee up in plain.  
Fie, fie on Love quoth I,  
I now perceive his craft:  
For Reason hath declared at large  
how he my freedom raft,  
I see his promise is  
far fairer than his pay:  
I find how Cupid blearde mine eyes,  
and made me run astray.  
I wot how hungry Hope  
hath led me by the lip,  
And made me move an endless suit  
well worth an Oaken chip.  
He trained me all by trust,  
I fared as Hound at hatch:  
The lesser fruit I found, the more  
I was procured to watch.  
Thus (mighty Lord) I left  
thy laws and statutes strong  
For railing Reasons trifling talk,  
and offered thee a wrong.  
But now Dame Venus knows,  
and thou her son canst tell  
That I within my covert heart  
do love thee passing well.  
Now fully bend to be  
(so thou wilt clean put out  
Of mind my passed injuries)  
thy man and Soldier stout:  
priest to obey thy will  
and never serve again,  
As long as Venus is of force  
and thou shalt keep thy Reign.  
I weigh not Tully's tale,  
ne prating Plato's talk:  
Let Plutarch vouch what Plutarch can,  
let skuruey Senec walk.  
Old Ovid will I read,  
whose pleasant wit doth pass  
The rest, as far as stubborn Steel  
excels the brittle Glass.  
In him thy deeds of Arms  
and manly Marts appear,  
In him thy stately spoils are seen  
as in a Mirror clear.  
Thy mother's praise and thine  
in him are to be found,  
For conquests which you had in Heaven  
and here below on ground.  
Forgive my former guilt,  
forget my passed toys:  
And grant I may aspire again  
unto my wonted joys.  
If ever man did love  
or serve in better stood,  
Then shape my wagesse to the same  
and do restrain my meed.  
But so I fight in field  
as fiercely as the best:  
I hope that then your Godhead will  
reward me with the rest.   

After misadventures come good haps.  
I Never thought but this that luck in fine  
Would to my will and fancy well incline.  
For daily proof doth make an open show  
That comen course of things would have it so.  
When stormy clouds from darkened skies are fled,  
Then Phoebus shows his gay and golden head.  
His princely pride appears when showers are past,  
And after day the night ensues as fast.  
When winter hath his trembling carcase shown,  
And with his frosty foot the spring down thrown,  
Then in leaps Aestas gay with gladsome gleams  
That Harvest brings & dries up winter streams.  
The Bark that broiled in rough & churlish Seas  
At length doth reach a Port and place of ease.  
The wailful war in time doth yield to peace,  
The Larums loud & Trumpets sound doth cease:  
Thus may we see that chance is full of change.  
And Fortune feeds on food that is full strange,  
Wherefore do not despair thou loving Wight,  
For Seas do ebb and flow by Nature's might:  
From worse to good our haps are changed oft,  
And basest things sometimes are raised aloft.  
So Gods would have, and Fortune doth agree,  
Which proof appears and is expressed by me.   

To his Love that controlled his Dog for fawning on her.  
IN deed (my Dear) you wrong my Dog in this  
And show yourself to be of crabbed kind,  
That will not let my fawning Whelp to kiss  
Your fist, the feign would show his masters mind:  
A Mastiff were more fit for such a one,  
That can not let her lovers Dog alone.  
He in his kind for me did seem to sue,  
That erst did stand so highly in your grace,  
His masters mind the witty Spanell knew,  
And thought his wonted Mistress was in place:  
But now at last (good faith) I plainly see  
That Dogs more wise than Women friendly be.  
Wherefore since you so cruelly entreat  
My Whelp, not forcing of his fawning cheer,  
You show yourself with pride to be replete,  
And to your Friend your Nature doth appear:  
The Proverb old is verifide in you,  
Love me and love my Dog, and so adieu,  
Both I and he that seely Beast sustain  
For loving well and bearing faithful hearts,  
Despitous checks, and rigorous disdain,  
Where both have well deserved for our parts,  
For Friendship I, for offered service he,  
And yet thou neither loouste the Dog nor me.   

Upon the death of the aforenamed Dame Elizabeth Arhundle of Cornwall.  
WHat Tongue can tell the woe?  
what Pen express the plaint?  
Unless the Muse's help at need  
I feel my wits to faint.  
Ye that frequent the hills  
and highest Holtes of all,  
Assist me with your skilful Quills  
and listen when I call.  
And Phoebus, thou that sit'st  
amidst the learned rout,  
Do way thy Bow, and reach thy Lute  
and say to sound it out.  
Help (learned Pallas) help  
to write the fatal fall  
Of her, whose life deserves to be  
a Mirror to us all.  
Whose Parents were of fame  
as Leyster well can show:  
Where they in worship long had lived,  
with years did worship grow.  
Of worship was the house  
from whence she took her line:  
And she a Dannat by descent  
to worship did incline.  
What need I pen the praise  
of her that lived so well.  
That of itself doth yield a sound,  
we need not ring the Bell.  
Whilst Dannat did ensue  
Diana in the race,  
A truer Nymph than Dannat was  
was never erst in place.  
With Beauty so addressed  
with Virtue so adorned:  
Was none that more embraced the good.  
nor at the wicked scorned.  
When fleeing Fame with Trump  
and blasted brute had brought  
This Dannats' thews to courtlike ears  
(which Dannat never sought)  
To Court she was procured  
on Princess to attend  
A service fit for such a one  
her flowering years to spend.  
Where when she had remained  
and served the Princess well,  
Not rashly but with good advice  
to junos' yoke she fell.  
A Wolf by hap espied  
this silly Lamb in place,  
And thought her fittest for his prey:  
not ghastly was his face,  
Not Woulflike were his eyes,  
ne harrish was his voice:  
Nor such as Lambs might fear to hear  
but rather might rejoice.  
A heart not bend to hate  
or yielding pray to spill:  
Unto Lycaon far unlike  
whose pleasure was to kill.  
Arhundle was his name,  
his stock of great descent:  
Whose predecessors all their lives  
in virtues path had spent.  
He not unlike the rest  
behaved himself so well,  
As he in fine became a Knight,  
so to his share it fell.  
Thus was this Lady fast  
conjoined in sacred knot:  
Whose prime and tender years were spent  
devoid of slanders blot.  
The match no sooner made,  
when marriage rites were done;  
But Dannat ran her race as right  
as she her course begun.  
And soothe it is, she lived  
in wifely bond so well,  
As she from Collatinus wife  
of Chastise boar the bell.  
Ulysses' wife did blush  
to hear of Dannats' praise:  
Admetus Make (the good Alcestis)  
did yield up all her Keys.  
The Greeks might take in grief  
of such a one to here,  
Who for her well deserved fame  
could have no Greekish Peer.  
Thus many years were spent  
with good and soothfast life,  
Twixt Arhundle that worthy Knight  
and his approved wife.  
Of whom such Imps did spring,  
such fruit began to grow.  
Such issue did proceed as we  
them by their branches know.  
The Oak will yield no Grapes,  
the Vine will bear no Haws:  
Each thing must follow kindly course  
by Nature's fixed laws.  
Even so that worthy Tree  
such fruit is seen to bear,  
As yet commends the withered stocks  
and them to Welkin rear.  
Thus did they live in joy,  
till chance and spiteful death  
These loving Turtles did divide  
and rest the Cock his breath.  
Then first the bale began,  
then black attire came on:  
And Dannats dréerie dole was seen  
with never stinting moan.  
Nought might her sorrow suage,  
but still she did bewail  
The Cinders of her severed Make  
with tears of none avail.  
Seven years she spent in woe  
refusing other Make:  
For such is Turtles kind you know  
they will none other take.  
I doubt where Dido felt  
the like tormenting rage,  
When that the guileful Guest was gone  
that laid his faith to gauge,  
This Dannats' virtues were  
so rife and eke so rare,  
As few with her for honest life.  
and wisdom might compare.  
Minerva did sojourn  
within that wifely breast:  
Her deeds declared that in her head  
Dame Pallas was a guest.  
But what we covet most  
or chiefest hold in price,  
With greedy gripe of darting death  
is reaved with a trice.  
The cruel Sisters three  
were all in one agreed,  
To let the spindle run no more  
but shrid the fatal thread.  
And fortune, (to express  
what swing and sway she bore)  
Allowed them leave to use their force  
upon this jewel rare.  
Thus hath the Welkin won,  
and we a loss sustained:  
Thus hath her Corpse a Vaunt found out,  
her Spirit the Heavens gained.  
Since sobbing will not serve,  
ne shedding tears avail  
To bring the soul to Corpse again  
his old and wonted gail:  
Leave off to bathe her stone  
with niob's tears to long,  
For thou shalt aid her nought at all  
but put thyself to wrong.  
Wish that her soul may reach  
the place from whence it came:  
And she be guerdoned for her life  
with never dying fame.  
For sure she well deserved  
to have immortal praise,  
And laud more light than clearest Sun  
or Phoebus' golden rays.  
If ought my slender skill  
or writing were of power,  
No process of ingrateful time.  
her virtues should devour.   

Dispraise of Women that allure and love not.  

WHen so you view in Verse  
and Poets rhymes report,  
Of Lucrece, and Ulysses' wife  
that lives in honest sort.  
When Hippo comes by hap  
or good Alcestis yfere,  
And other some that by desert  
with fame renowned were,  
Than you with hasty doom  
and rashfull sentence strait,  
Will vaunt that women more and less  
were all with virtue freight.  
And, for those few that lived  
in wifely bond so well,  
You will esteem the rest by those  
that only bore the bell,  
But follow sound advice,  
let each receive her doom,  
As each in virtue did surmount,  
or sit in highest room.  
So clean was never seed  
ysifted, but among  
For all their pains were weeds that grew  
to put the grain to wrong.  
That troop of honest Dames  
those Grisels all are gone:  
No Lucrece now is left alive,  
ne Cleopatra none.  
Those days are all ypast,  
that date is fléeted by:  
They mirrors were Dame Nature made  
her skilful hand to try.  
Now course of kind exchaungde  
doth yield a worser grain,  
And women in these latter years  
those modest Matrons stain.  
Deceit in their delight,  
great fraud in friendly looks:  
They spoil the Fish for friendship's sake  
that hover on their Hooks.  
They buy the bait to dear  
that so their freedom lose:  
And they the more deceitful are  
that so can craft and gloze.  
With beauty to allure,  
and murder with disdain:  
What more may be 'gainst women's kind  
where ruth of right should reign  
So Memphite Crocodile  
(as we in Poets fine)  
Where Nilus with his sevenfold stream  
to Seaward doth incline  
With ruthless trickling tears  
and lamentable sound,  
The seely Beast with pity moved  
doth cruelly confound.  
So Marmaydes in the flood  
and Sirens sweetly sing,  
Till they the musing Mariner  
to speedy death do bring.  
Now Helen for her train  
with Diana may compare:  
Such sundry Helen's now are found,  
and Diane's Nymphs so rare.  
Who if by craft espy  
thy Senses once to bend,  
And bow by Cupid's subtle breach  
that burning gleams doth send:  
Then will they seek in haste  
by force of friendly blinck,  
And wrested look into thy breast  
their beauty's shape to sink.  
Which if be brought to pass,  
then have they their desire:  
And standing far do smile to see  
the flaming of the fire.  
Then look they on a loof,  
and never once repair  
To end the strife that they have stirrde  
twixt Lover and Despair.  
As Shepherds when they see  
the Gander's foe in snare  
Rejoice, that from their folds of late  
their seely cattle bare:  
Or Boy that knows the Fowl  
to be in pit-hole caught,  
That wonted was to steal the stolen  
and set the snare at nought:  
So wily Women wont  
to laugh, when so they spy  
The loving Wight ytraind by trust  
in point and pinch to die.  
But if such chance do chance  
(as often chance we see)  
The fish that erst was hanged on Hook  
by better chance be free,  
If he by happy hap  
do cast off Cupid's yoke,  
Not setting of their Love a Leek  
that gave the cruel stroke:  
Then are removed the clouds  
of her disdainful brow:  
And friendship's flood that erst was dry  
afresh gins to flow.  
Then wresteth she her grace,  
and makes a seeming show  
As though she meant no change at all,  
ne would her Hests forego.  
Thus are they fright which wiles  
whom Nature made so plain,  
Thus Sinon's shifts they put in ure  
their purpose to attain.  
Wherefore let be our care  
Ulysses' trade to try:  
And stop our ears against the sound  
of Sirens when they cry.  
Think when thou seest the bait  
whereon is thy delight,  
That hidden Hooks are hard at hand  
to bane thee when thou bite.  
Think well that poison lurckes  
in shape of Sugar sweet:  
And where the freshest flowers are seen  
there most beware thy feet.  
But chief Women shoonne  
and follow mine advice,  
If not, thou mayst perhaps in proof  
of folly bear the price.  
To trust to rotten boughs  
the danger well is seen:  
To tread the tilled trap unwares  
hath always peril been.  
Have Medea still in mind,  
let Circe be in thought:  
And Helen that to utter sack,  
both Greece and Troy brought  
Let Creside be in count  
and number of the more,  
Who for her lightness may presume  
with falsest on the row:  
Else would she not have left  
a Trojan for a Greek.  
But what? by kind the Cat will hunt,  
her Father did the like.  
As wily are their wits,  
so are their tongues untrue:  
Unconstant and aye fleeting minds  
that most embrace the nue.  
When fixed is their faith  
it rests on brittle sand:  
And when thou deemst them surste of all  
they bear thee but in hand.  
Though Argus were alive  
whose eyes in number were  
As many as the Peacock proud  
in painted plume doth bear:  
Yet Women by their wiles  
and well acquainted drifts,  
Would soon deceive his waking head,  
and put his eyes to shifts.  
Nought have they need at all  
Cyllenus Pipe to blow  
To forge their fraud, their tongues will serve  
as learned writers show.   

First try and then tell  
Where I have said well  
For without a trial  
There veils no denial.    

Of a Physician and a Soothsayer.  
MARK felt himself diseased,  
the Soothsayer said: There be  
Six yet remainder days of life,  
no more (Friend Mark) to thee  
Then skilful Alcon came,  
he felt the pulses beat:  
And out of hand this Marcus died,  
there Physic wrought his feat.  
This shows Physician doth  
the Soothsayer far exceed:  
For th'one can make a short dispatch,  
when tother makes no speed.   

A controversy of a conquest in Love twixt Fortune and Venus.  
WHilst fisher kest his line  
the hovering fish to hook:  
By hap a rich man's daughter on  
the fisher kest her look.  
She fried with frantic Love,  
they maride eke at last:  
Thus fisher was from low estate  
in top of Treasure placed.  
Stood Fortune by and smiled:  
how say you (Dame) quoth she  
To Venus? was this conquest yours,  
or is it due to me?  
Twas I (quoth Vulcan's Wife)  
with help of Cupid's Bow,  
That made this wanton wench to rage,  
and match herself so low.  
Not so: 'twas Fortune I  
that brought the Trull in place:  
And Fortune was it that the man  
stood so in maidens grace.  
By Fortune fell their love,  
'twas Fortune struck the stroke:  
Then debtor is this man to me  
that did the match provoke.   

The Lover voweth how so ever he be guerdoned to love faithfully.  
Wthankfull though she were  
and had disdainful brow,  
Regarding nought my constant heart,  
ne forcing of her vow:  
Since sown is the seed  
of faithful friendship's lore,  
Unconstant will I never be  
ne break my Hest therefore.  
Let Fortune use her force  
so Cupid stand mine aid,  
And Cyprid laugh with lovely look,  
I will not be afraid.  
By me the Noble kind  
of man shall not be shamed,  
Record through me shall never force  
our sequel be defamed.  
Albe that I consume  
my green and growing youth,  
Yea age and all without reward  
yet nill I serve my truth.  
Each that shall after come,  
and live when I am dust,  
This loving heart shall well descry  
the Key of perfit trust.  
her, while my vital breath  
these fainting limbs shall move:  
Yea, after death in hollow vault  
ytombed, will I love.  
Force she my service true  
I force it not at all,  
Rue she by ruth my dréerie life  
or it to mercy call:  
In stay my Love shall stand,  
I will not false my faith,  
Ne break my former plighted hest  
or promise to the death.  
Disdain shall never force  
my friendship once awry:  
Ere that I crave immortal Gods  
that ye will let me die.  
Let Dido still complain  
Aeneas broken Hest,  
Of all that came to Carthage Coast  
the most unfaithful guest.  
Untrusty Theseus eke  
let Ariadne cléepe,  
Escaping from his friendly fear  
yled in slumbering sleep:  
So let Medea blame  
the Knight that won the Flise,  
That forced nought at all in fine  
her cleaping and her cries:  
Have thou the faithful heart  
of thine assured Friend,  
Ere he be of that reckless race  
the Sun awry shall wend.  
Where so thou yield him grace  
or as an outcast shoes:  
Expect his former plighted Hest  
as thou tofore hast done.  
Love will he never blame  
ne Venus' laws forego,  
Life sooner shall than love decrease  
his faith is fixed so.   

He sorrows the long absence of his Lady. P.  
NOw once again (my Muse) renew the woes  
Which erst thou hast in doleful ditty song,  
For greater cause of sorrow not arose  
To me at all, than now of late is sprung:  
As you shall hear in sad and solemn Verse,  
A woeful Wight his hapless hap rehearse,  
Come (Clio) come with pensive Pen in hand  
And cause thy sisters change their cheerful voice,  
Ye furies fell that lurk in Pluto's land,  
Come skip to Skies, and raise a doleful noise:  
Help to lament the lovers woeful chance,  
And let Allecto lead the loathsome dance.  
All ye that Ladies are of Limbo Lake  
With hissing hair, and Snaky bush bedecked,  
Your beds of steel and dankish Dens forsal  
And Styx with stinking Sulphur all infect:  
Do what you may to aid my careful Quill,  
And help to ring a lovers latter knell.  
And time (I trow) sith she from hence is fled  
Who was the guide and giver of my breath,  
By whom I was with wished pleasure fed  
And have escaped the ruthless hand of death:  
Who was the Key and Cable of my life,  
That made me scape Charybdis careful cliff.  
A Star whereby to steer my body's Bark,  
And ship of soul to shore in safety bring,  
To quite my Corpse from painful pining cark,  
And fiery force of crafty Cupid's sting:  
Even she that me from Sulla's shelf did shroud,  
That light is lost, that loadstar under cloud.  
Whose absence breeds the tempest I sustain,  
And makes my thoughts so cloudy black to bae,  
And brackish tears from swollen eyes to rain,  
And churlish gale of surging sighs to flee:  
That Anchor scarce ne harbour I may have  
From deep despair my broken Ship to save.  
The Ruby from the Ring is rest I find,  
The foil appears that underneath was set:  
The Saint is gone, the Shrine is left behind,  
The Fish is scaped, and here remains the Net:  
That other choice for me is none but this,  
To wail the want of her that is my bliss.  
I curse the Wight that caused her hence to go,  
I hate the Horse that hence her Corpse conveyed,  
The Bit, the Saddle all I curse aroe,  
And aught that else might this her journey staid:  
I curse the place where she doth now solourne,  
And that whereto she minds to shape return.  
My mouth, that kissed her not before she went,  
Mine eyes, that did not seek to see her face,  
My head, that it no matter did invent,  
My hand, that it in Paper did not place:  
My feet, that they refused to travel tho,  
My legs I curse that were so loath to go.  
My tongue, that it to parley did then procure  
To utter all my close and covert mind,  
To her who long hath had my wounds in cure,  
In whom such ruth and mercy I did find:  
My heart I curse, that sought not to bewray  
Itself to her or ere she went her way.  
And last myself and erie thing beside,  
My life, my limbs, my carrion Corpse I curse:  
Save her for whom these torments I abide,  
That of my life is only well and source:  
jove shroud her self, and keep her from annoy,  
And send her soon to make return with joy.   

To his Love long absent, declaring his torments.  
O Lingering Love, O Friend  
that absent art so long,  
Where so thou be, the Gods thee guide  
and quit thy Corpse from wrong:  
And send thee harmless health,  
and safely to revart,  
How soon yourself may deem full well  
to save a dying heart.  
For since your parture I  
have lead a loathsome state:  
And save the hope of your return  
nought might my woes abate.  
And will you know the time  
how I have spent away?  
And do you long in ruthful rhyme  
my torments to survey?  
Though but with weeping eyes  
I may the same recite:  
Yet natheless the truth herein  
to thee (my Friend) I writ.  
When flickering Fame at first  
unto mine ears had brought  
That you to travel were addressed,  
and fixed was your thought  
In London long to lodge,  
and flee our friendly soil:  
Then Dolour first in daunted Corpse  
and wounded breast did boil.  
I felt how grief did gi●●  
the onset on my heart,  
And sorrow swore that pensive pangs  
should never thence departed.  
With clinching claws there came,  
and talents sharply set,  
A flock of greedy griping woes  
my grunting heart to fret.  
The more I sought the mean  
by pleasant thought to ease  
My growing grief, the more I felt  
increase my new disease.  
When other laughed for joy,  
it brought to mind my woe:  
When Music slaked their sorrows, than  
my secret sore did grow.  
When they at meat were set  
their dainty food to taste,  
In stead of Viands, hearty sighs  
I had for my repast.  
When Bacchus came to Board,  
and each to other drink:  
My swell flood of salted tears  
did overflow his brinks,  
And out did gush amain  
of drink to stand in steed  
To me, that of such monstrous meat  
as sorrow was did feed.  
From board to bed I go▪  
in hope to find relief,  
And by some pleasant nap to rid  
my troubled Ghost from grief:  
But slumbering sleep is fled.  
and Morpheus shows his spite:  
That will not yield on minutes rest  
in all a Winter's night.  
O Lord, what sundry kinds  
of care do then begin  
Tassault my weary waking head,  
and trembling heart within?  
A thousand thoughts arise,  
each thought his torment brings:  
And thus the loathed night I spend  
and feel how sorrow springs.  
And if in dawning chance  
some drooping sleep to light  
Upon the careful Corpse that thus  
hath spent the waking night:  
It stands in little stead,  
so dreadful are my dreams  
As they by force of woe procure  
mine eyes to run with streams.  
Then bathe I bed with brine,  
and cloy my Couch with tears:  
And mid my sleep thy griefly Ghost  
in straungie sort appears.  
Not with such friendly face  
and brow of gladsome cheer  
As erst thou hadst: those lovely looks  
and blincks are all areare.  
More grimmer is your grace,  
more coy your countenance eke:  
More lowering looks than were of yore  
and Brow more bend to wreak.  
In hand me thinks I see  
thee hold the hateful knife  
To slay thy Friend, and for good will  
to reave deserved life.  
Wherewith I wake affright  
and strain my pillow fast,  
To guard me from the cruel tool  
until your wrath be past.  
At length I see it plain  
that fancy did enforce  
Unto his ugly monstrous dream  
my weak and slumbering Corpse.  
I view thy secret heart,  
and how it longs to be  
With him that for unfeigned love  
impawnde his faith to thee.  
For mercy than I call  
of you that judge so ill,  
Whose pleasure is to guard your Friend,  
and not your Foe to kill.  
Of dreams a thousand such  
each night I have a share,  
To banish sleep from pining Corpse  
and nurse my cankered care.  
Thus day and night I live,  
thus night and day I die:  
In death I feel no smart at all,  
in life great woe I try.  
Wherefore to rid my griefs  
and banish all annoy:  
Retire from Creece, and do sojourn  
here with thy Friend in Troy.  
Who longs to see thy face  
and witness of thy state:  
nd partner be of thy delights  
Ahis furious fits to bate.   

To Browne of light belief.  
BEware my Browne of light belief,  
trust not before you try:  
For under cloak of great good will  
doth feigned friendship lie.  
As wily Adder lurcks in leaves  
and greenest grass of all,  
And stings the stalking Wight that thought  
no danger would befall.  
So is the plain unplayted man  
by subtle dealing guild  
And soon snared by subtle shifts  
of him that smoothly smiled.  
We never see the frowning Friend  
that frets to outward show,  
Beguile or seek to false his Friend,  
as doth the fleering Foe:  
The Mastiff Dog is voided well  
that barcks or ere he bite:  
But (oh) the Cur is cruel that  
doth never bark a whit.  
Deal thou as Courtiers daily do,  
in words be frank and free,  
Speak fair and make the weather clear  
to him that gibes with thee.  
For so thou shalt assured stand  
from hurt to be as far,  
As from the ground of true good will  
those glozing merchants are.  
A wisdom to beware of wolves,  
and Foxes guileful guise:  
For tone is crafty by his kind,  
the other passing wise.  
So that it is a matter hard  
their double drifts to flee:  
But yet thou shalt avoid the worst  
if thou be ruled by me.  
(ꝙ) G. T.   

That Death is not so much to be feared as daily diseases are.  
WHat? yst not folly for to dread  
and stand of Death in fear,  
That mother is of quiet rest,  
and griefs away doth wear?  
That brings release to want of wealth,  
and poor oppressed Wights?  
He comes but once to mortal men,  
but once for all he smites.  
Was never none that twice hath felt  
of cruel Death the knife:  
But other griefs and pining pains  
do linger on the life,  
And oftentimes on self same Corpse  
with furious fits molest,  
When Death by one dispatched of life  
doth bring the soul to rest.   

The Epicures counsel, eat, drink, and play.  
MY Friend, where as thou seest thyself  
to be a man in deed,  
Eat, quaff, and play, with present joys  
thy greedy fancy feed.  
For I (thou seest) am dust become  
that erst so wealthy was:  
I have that I alive did eat,  
the rest away did pass.  
What so I poorde in pampered paunch  
and to my guts conveyed,  
To gaping ground with me I bore,  
the rest behind is staid.  
My haughty buildings huge to see,  
my Turrets and my train,  
My Horse, my Hounds, my cofred Coin  
for others do remain.  
Wherefore a Mirror make of me  
and drown thee in delight:  
For Death will sweep away thy wealth  
and reave thy pleasures quite.   

The Answer to the vile and cankered counsel of the outrageous Epicure.  
MY Friend, for that I see myself  
to be a man in deed,  
Thy quaffing counsel I refuse,  
unless to serve my need.  
I muse no whit that thou art dust,  
thy beastly living here  
Was mean to bring thee to thy bane,  
the sooner for thy cheer.  
Thou thoughts to pamper up thy paunch,  
but thou didst feed iwis  
The greedy Worms that gnaw thy guts,  
for them a dainty dish.  
Good reason that thou shouldst forego  
and leave thy goods behind,  
For that a beast so like a beast  
didst live against thy kind.  
A man in name, no man in deed  
thou art that counsel'st me  
To live as thou hast lived, and die  
a Monster like to thee.  
For since thy life so loathsome was,  
and shameful cake thy death:  
I will beware, and make a Glass  
of thee whilst I have breath,  
To shun thy sluttish sinful Sect,  
thy tippling and thy toys:  
For after death those pleasures pass  
as did thy fickle joys.   

Of Homer and his birth.  
THe Poet Homer Chius claims,  
Colophon doth the leek:  
And Smyrne swears that he is hers  
that was the learned Greek.  
Of Salamine some say he was,  
of Io other some:  
And divers make report that he  
of Thessale line did come.  
Thus sundered and divided are  
the people's minds of thee,  
(Thou Princely Poet) but my thought  
with neither doth agree.  
For I assuredly suppose  
and deem the Heavenly Spear  
Thy soil, and Pallas lap the womb  
that did thy body bear.  
Her breast (the Dug) that thou didst suck  
in Cradle when thou layst:  
With haughty style so much (thou Greek)  
thy mazed head dismayst.   

That Time conquereth all things, save the lovers pain.  
WAs never Bull so fell  
with wrinkle fronted face,  
But Time would make him yield to yoke  
and toil the ground apace.  
The Horse ybred in Holte  
and fed in lusty Lease  
In Time will champ the foamy Bitten  
his Rider's will to please.  
The Lions that are wood  
and raging in their kind,  
By tracked of Time their keepers know  
in whom they friendship find.  
Those Beasts that come from Ind  
and farthest parts of all,  
In Time do swerver their savage sect  
and to their duty fall.  
Time makes the Grape to grow  
and Vine to spread at large,  
So that the skin scarce able is  
to hold his inward charge:  
So Ceres fruit doth sprout  
by force of growing Time,  
Which makes the strength of hidden seed  
into the stalk to climb.  
Time makes the tender twig  
to bousteous Tree to grow:  
It makes the Oak to overlook  
the slender shrubs below.  
It frets the Coulter kéene  
that cuts the froting soil,  
It forceth hardest Flint of all  
and Marble to recoil.  
Time wreakful wrath subdues  
it breaketh anger's gall,  
And each disease in Time hath help:  
thus Time doth conquer all.  
Though these and other like  
by process are procured,  
Yet natheless my festered wound  
can not in Time be cured.  
For that which sendeth salve  
and comfort to the rest,  
Doth cause my rankling sore to rage  
and double in my breast.  
As Springs that from a Mount  
do take their down ward source,  
To whom there may no bar be found  
to stop their headlong course:  
So Lordlike Love ystaulde  
and seized in yielding mind  
May not be dispossessed again,  
such is his stately kind.   

To his Friend riding to Londonwarde.  
AS Troilus did rejoice  
when Cressida yielded grace,  
And dained him from service true  
so near her heart to place:  
So have I joyed (my Dear)  
for friendship which I found,  
And love requited with the like  
which cured my careful wound.  
And he full shrilly shright  
and doolde his woeful chance,  
On Greekish Steed from Trojan town  
when Cressida 'gan to prance  
And leave the liked soil  
where did sojourn her joy,  
I mean the worthy Troilus  
and lovingest youth in Troy:  
Even so I wail at thy  
departure, would thou witted,  
And out I cry a wretched Wight  
that thought himself yblist.  
O London loathsome lodge  
why dost thou now procure  
My Love to leave this pleasant soil  
that hath my heart in cure?  
Since needs it must be so  
gainsend her home in haste:  
Let her retire with harmless health  
that sickless hence is past.  
Yield me a good account  
of her that is my joy,  
And send her to her Troilus  
that longs for her in Troy.   

Of the Rain and cloudy weather at the time of his Friend's departure from Troy.  
NO marvel though the Sun do hide his head  
And under cloud do keep his lowering looks,  
No wonder that the Sky his tears doth shed  
And with his streams increase the water brooks:  
The cause is known, the proof is passing plain,  
My Love and I be sundered to our pain.  
Now she is gone that did sustain my breath  
And saved my ship of body from the wrack,  
By whom I scaped the cruel hand of Death  
Which thought to bring my Corpse to utter sack:  
The Welkin weeps and helps me to bewail  
With gushing showers the loss of mine avail.  
Wherefore, O Heavenly states that Rulers be  
Of starry Skies from whence these tears descend  
And flush so fast as mortal Wights do see:  
Of ruth in needful time my woes to end,  
Procure my Love to make return in post,  
To guard from grief her Friends afflicted ghost.  
If not, with flashing flame and Thunder dint  
By Vulcan forged and hammered for the nonce,  
Consume to dust my flesh my woe to stint,  
And with thy Mace (O jove) unjoint my bones:  
That by such scathe and loss of vital breath  
I may avoid a worse and stranger death.  
For like the teen that now my heart sustains  
Was never felt nor such oppressing care:  
Of force my life must yield to pinching pains  
Of hasting Death, the fits so furious are:  
Which though be so, when I am wrapped in Clay,  
(My soul) to her thou shalt repair and say.  
That whilst the life would suffer me to won  
With mortal Wights, my heart was hers at will,  
And now my Spindle hath his course yroonne  
And twist is none yleft, thou wilt fulfil  
The duty which thy Master ought of right,  
And which he would accomplish if he might.   

Of a covetous Niggard, and a needy Mouse.  
ASclepiad that greedy Carl,  
by fortune found a Mouse  
(As he about his lodgings looked)  
within his niggish house.  
The chiding chuff began to chaufe,  
and (sparefull of his cheer)  
Demanded of the seely Beast  
and said what mak'st thou here?  
¶ You need not stand in fear (good Friend)  
the smiling Mouse replied:  
I come not to devour your Cates  
but in your house to hide.  
¶ No man this Miser I account  
that chid this hurtless Elf:  
No Mouse the Mouse, but wiser than  
the Patch that owed the Pelf.   

A pretty Epigram of a Scholar, that having read vergil's Aeneidos, married a cursed Wife.  
A Scholar skillde in vergil's Verse  
and reading of his book  
(Arma virumque) that gins,  
was caught in Cupid's book.  
At length to marriage flat he fell,  
when wedding day was done,  
To play her pranks, and bob the Fool  
the shrowish Wife begun.  
The Husband daily felt the fists  
and buffers of his Wife:  
Until at last he thus began  
to plain of painful life.  
(Oh Caitiff me) the Scholar cried  
well worthy of this woe,  
For Arma I Virumque read  
in vergil long ago:  
Yet could not see to scape the plague  
whereof the Poet spoke.  
No doubt that Noble Poet for  
a Prophet I will take.  
For Arma now Virumque I  
both day and night sustain  
At home, I need not run to School,  
to read the Verse again.  
Would (Virum) were away, and then  
let (Arma) do their worst:  
But when I matched with such a shrew  
I think I was accursed.   

To a young Gentleman of taking a Wife.  
LOng you with greedy mind to lead a life,  
That pleasant is in deed, and void of care▪  
I never wish you then to take a Wife  
Nor set your foot in crafty Cupid's snare.  
A filthy Trull is irksome too the eye,  
A gallant girl allures the looker's mind:  
A wanton wench will have the head too die,  
An aged Trot to like is hard to find.  
A bearing Wife with brats will cloy thee sore,  
A greater cark than children's care is none,  
A barren beast will grieve thee ten times more,  
No joy remains when hope of fruit is gone.  
Wherefore let wiving go, live single aye,  
Apply the Book and band the Ball among:  
A shrew (we see) is wedded in a day  
But ere a man can shift his hands 'tis long.   

The Answer for taking a Wife.  
LOng you with greedy mind to blear mine eye  
And make me think of marriage thus amiss?  
I cannot deem so ill of wiving I,  
To love and wed for love is perfit bliss.  
A filthy Trull (you say) is loathsome sight,  
Put case she be not passing fair to view?  
If she with virtue do the want requite  
Of comely shape thou hast no cause to rue.  
A gallant girl allures the looker's mind,  
What shall we say the woman's is the shame?  
Because the clearest eyes by course of kind  
Can not abide the Sun, is he to blame?  
A wanton wench to die will have the head,  
Canst thou not see before thou wade so far?  
His be the hurt that looks not ere he wed,  
The Husband may the woman make or ma●●e.  
Put case an aged Trot be somewhat tough?  
If coin she bring the care will be the less,  
If she have store of muck and goods enough  
Thou néedste not force so much of handsomeness.  
A bearing Wife doth make the husband glad,  
A greater joy than children's may not be:  
A barren wench sometime must needs be had  
There doth not fruit spring out of every tree.  
So that I find no reason, none at all  
In that thou wilt a man to single life,  
And quite to shun the comfort that may fall  
And daily doth to him that hath a Wife.  
For sure though some be shrews as some there be,  
(As of the sheep are some that bear no wool)  
Yet must we praise the match whereby we see  
The earth maintained with men, and stored full.  
But if you think so ill to take a Wife,  
Let others wed, lead you the single life.  
(ꝙ) G. T.   

Of a deaf Plaintiff, a deaf Defendant, and a deaf judge.  
BY hap a man that could not hear  
but borne deaf by kind,  
Another cited to the Court,  
much like himself to find,  
Whose bearing Sense was quite bereft:  
the judge that of the Case  
Should give his verdict, was as deaf  
as deafest in the place.  
To Court they came: the Plaintiff prayed  
to have the unpaid rent.  
Defendant said, in grinding I  
this weary night have spent.  
The judge beheld them both a while,  
is this at last (quoth he)  
Of all your stirred strife the cause?  
You both her children be:  
Then Reason wills, and Law allows  
your Mother should have aid  
At both your hands that are her Sons.  
When thus the judge had said,  
The People laughed a good to hear  
this well discussed case  
Twixt two deaf men, and thought him fit  
to sit in judges place  
Upon so blind a matter that  
was deaf as any rock:  
And thus the simple men were shamed,  
the justice had a mock.   

A promise of old good will, to an old friend at the beginning of New year.  
THe Chuffs for greedy gain  
and lucers love expend  
Their New years gifts upon their Lords  
as cry year hath end:  
But I in token that  
the year his course hath run,  
And proof that joyful janus hath  
a novel year began:  
(As Love and Duty wills)  
the Herald of my heart  
Here send to you to make a show  
that Friendship shall not start.  
Though years do change by course  
and alter by their kind:  
My old good will and faith to slip  
I trust you shall not find.  
Timetes will be true,  
his love shall never blind:  
But gather strength and grow to more  
than when it did begin.   

A Vow to serve faithfully.  
IN green and growing age, in luftie years,  
In latter days when silver bush appears:  
In good and gladsome hap when Fortune serves,  
In lowering luck when good adventure swerves  
By day when Phoebus shows his princely pride,  
By night when golden Stars in Skies do glide,  
In Winter when the groves have lost their green  
In Summer when the longest days are seen,  
In happy health when sickless limbs have life,  
In griefful state, amids my dolours rife,  
In pleasant peace when Trumpets are away,  
In wreakful war when Mars doth bear the sway,  
In perilous gulf amid the sinking sand,  
In safer soil and in the stable land.  
When so you laugh, or else with grimmer grace  
You bear your faithful Friend unfriendly face,  
In good report and time of worser fame,  
I will be yours, yea though I lose the game.   

Funeral Verse upon the death of Sir john Horsey Knight.  
THat wealth assigned is to waste away,  
And stately pomp to vanish and decrease.  
That worship wears and worldly wights decay,  
And Fortune's gifts though near so brave do cease  
May well appear by Horseys hateful Hierce,  
Whose Corpse (alas) untimely Death did pierce.  
Who thought thereby as Nature to subdue  
By reaving breath and rowne in worldly stage:  
So blasted brute to blot, and Fame that slew  
Of him that well deserved in all his age  
For worship and renown to have his share  
Among the rest that praise for Virtue bare.  
But seeking ways to wrong this worthy wight,  
She foully mist her purpose in the fine:  
For Horsey gains by deaths outrageous spite,  
And endless fame, whereat his Foes repine:  
But each man else laments and cries aloud  
That Horsey was to soon ywrapt in shroud.  
The rich report that ruth in him did reign,  
And pity lodged within his loving breast,  
The simple say that for no manner gain  
He hath at any time the poor oppreast:  
Thus both estates his worthy life commend,  
And both lament his overhasting end.  
Then cease (I say) such flushing tears to shed,  
Do way thy dole, repress thy ruthful moan,  
For Horsey lives, his soul to Skies is fled,  
The only Corpse is closed in Marble stone.  
So that thou hast no cause to wail his chance,  
Whom spiteful death by hatred did advance.   

To his Friend T: having been long studied and well experienced, and now at length loving a Gentlewoman that forced him nought at all.  
I Thought good faith, & durst have gagde my hand  
For you (Friend T.) the beauty should now hight  
Have razed your heart, nor Cupid with his brand  
Have brought thy learned breast to such a plight.  
I thought Minerva's gift had been of power  
By wholesome read to root this fancy out:  
But now I see that Venus in an hour  
Can bend the best, and daunt the wise and stout.  
Why shouldst thou seek to make the Tiger tame?  
To win a Wolf so cruel by his kind?  
To suffer Aesop's Snake thou art to blame  
That stung the man where he relief did find.  
Is nought in her but Woman's name alone,  
No Woman sure she is, but Monster fell,  
That scorns her friend, & makes him die with moan.  
Who makes an Idol of a Devil of Hell.  
She was cut out of some Sea beaten rock,  
Or taken from the cruel lions Tet,  
That feeds her Friend for friendship with a mock  
And smiles to see him matched in Follies Net.  
If thou were wise (as thou art full of love)  
Thou wouldst account her beauty but a Glass,  
And from thy heart such fancies fond remove  
I loath to see the Lion wax an Ass.  
If so she were thy faithful Friend in deed,  
And sought a salve to cure thy cruel sore,  
(As now she seeks to make thy heart to bleed)  
Good faith thou couldst account of her no more.  
But weighing now her great abuse to thee  
A Friend to her, but to thyself a Foe:  
Why shouldst thou love, or so enamoured be?  
Leave off be time, let all such dotage go.  
Should I embrace the man that hates my life?  
Should I account of him that sets me light?  
Should I yield up my throat to murdering Knife?  
Or seek for to reclaim a Haggard Kite?  
Hast thou not read how wise Ulysses did  
Enstuffe his ears with Wax, and close them up,  
Of Circe's filthy love himself to rid,  
That turned his Mates to Swine by Witches cup?  
And how he did the like upon the Seas  
The pleasant noisome Siren's songs tendure,  
That otherwise had wrought him great unease  
If once they mought his mates and him allure?  
Put thou the Greeks devise again in ure,  
Stop up thine cares this Siren to beguile,  
Seal up those wanton eyes of thine, be sure  
To lend no ear unto her flattering style.  
For all her talk but to deceit doth tend,  
A cankered heart is wrapped in friendly looks:  
She all her wits to thy decay doth bend,  
Thou art the Fish, she bears the biting hooks.  
No savage beast doth force a man a whit  
That loves him not: we see the dogged Cur  
Fawns not one him that with the whip doth smite  
The Horse hates him that pricks him with the spur.  
And wilt thou love, or place within thy breast  
The cruel Dame that weaves thy web of woe?  
Wilt thou still fawn upon so false a guest:  
In stead of Dove wilt thou retain a Crow?  
Beware in time, ere Beauty pierce to far,  
Let fancies go, love where is love again:  
For doubtless now to much to blame you are.  
To sow good will and reap but fowl disdain.  
I counsel thus that may thee best advise,  
For that myself did serve a cruel Dame:  
The blind recured can judge of bleared eyes,  
The Cripple healed knows how to heal the lame.  
Shake thou betimes the yoke from off thy neck,  
For fear the print thereof remain behind:  
A happy man is he that fears no check,  
But lives at freedom with contented mind.   

¶ An Epitaph upon the death of the worshipful Master Richard Edward's late Master of the Children in the Queen's majesties Chapel.  
IF tears could tell my thought,  
or plaints could paint my pain,  
If doubled sighs could show my smart,  
if wailing were not vain:  
If gripes that gnaw my breast  
could well my grief express,  
My tears, my plaints, my sighs, my wailing  
never should surcease.  
By mean whereof I might,  
unto the world disclose  
The death of such a man (alas)  
as chanced us to lose.  
But what avails to moon?  
If life for life might be  
Restored again, I would exchange  
my life for death with thee.  
Or if I might some way,  
to pay thy rawnsome know,  
(O Edward's) then believe me sure  
thou shouldst not lie so low:  
That O thou cruel Death,  
so fierce with dint of dart  
Due curses on my knees I yield  
to thee with all my heart.  
For that it list thee try  
thy foul and cankered spite  
On that so rare a piece, on that  
so wise and worthy Wight.  
sufficed thee (since thou must  
be mad) the simple sort  
to flea, or on the brutish blood  
of beasts to take thy sport,  
And not in furious wise,  
with haste and headlong rage  
To kill the flower of all our Realm  
and Phoenix of our age.  
The fact doth cry revenge,  
the Gods repay thine hire,  
Deep darkened Lake of Limbo low,  
and still consuming fire.  
His death not I but all  
good gentle hearts do moon:  
O London, though thy grief be great,  
thou dost not mourn alone.  
The seat of Muses nine  
where fifteen Welles do flow,  
Whose sprinkling springs and golden streams  
ere this thou well didst know.  
Lament to lose this Plant  
for they shall see no more  
The branch that they so long had bred,  
whereby they set such store.  
O happy House, O Place  
of Corpus Christi, thou  
That plantedst first, and gauste the root  
to that so brave a bow:  
And Christ Church which enjoydste  
the fruit more ripe at fill,  
Plunge up a thousand sighs, for grief  
your trickling tears distill.  
Whilst Child and Chapel dure,  
whilst Court a Court shall be,  
(Good Edward's) each estate shall much  
both want and wish for thee.  
Thy tender Tunes and Rhymes  
wherein thou woontst to play  
Each princely Dame of Court and Town  
shall bear in mind always.  
Thy Damon and his Friend,  
Arcyte and Palemon  
With more full fit for Prince's ears,  
though thou from earth art gone,  
Shall still remain in fame,  
and like so long to hide  
As earthly things shall live, and God  
this mortal Globe shall guide.  
For lo, thus Virtue list,  
her Pupils to advance:  
Yet for my part I would that God  
had given thee better chance.  
A longer time on earth,  
thy hastened death before,  
But Edward's now farewell for tears  
will let me write no more.  
Well may thy bones be lodged  
thy fame abroad may fly,  
Thy sacred soul possess a place  
above the starry Sky.  
(ꝙ) Tho. Twine.   

To his Love that sent him a Ring wherein was graude, Let Reason rule.  
SHall Reason rule where Reason hath no right?  
Nor never had? shall Cupid lose his lands?  
His claim? his crown? his kingdom? name of might  
And yield himself to be in Reason's bands?  
No, (Friend) thy Ring doth will me thus in bane,  
Reason and Love have ever yet been twain.  
They are by kind of such contrary mould  
As one mislikes the others lewd devise,  
What Reason wills Cupido never would,  
Love never yet thought Reason to be wise.  
To Cupid I my homage erst have done.  
Let Reason rule the hearts that she hath won.   

To his Friend Francis Th: leading his life in the Country at his desire.  
MY Francis, whilst you breathe your foaming steed  
Athwart the fields in peace to practise war,  
In Country whilst your keneld Hounds do feed,  
Or in the wood for taken pray do jar:  
Whilst you with Hawks the silly Foule do slape,  
And take delight a quick retrieve to have,  
To flee to mark, and hear the spaniel's bay  
Wasting your age in pleasure passing brave:  
In City I my youthful years do spend,  
At Book perhaps sometime to wear the day:  
Where man to man not friend to friend doth lend,  
With us is nought but pitch (my Friend) and pay.  
Great store of Coin, but few enjoy the same,  
The owners hold it fast with limed hands,  
We live by loss, we play and practise game  
We by and fell, the street is all our lands.  
Well stored we are of cry needful thing.  
Wood, Water, Coale, Flesh, Fish we have enough:  
(What lack you) wives and Maids do daily sing  
The Horn is rife, it sticks on many a brow.  
But yet (I say) the Country hath no peer,  
The Town is but a toil, and weary life:  
We like your Country sports (Friend Francis) here,  
The City is a place of bate and strife.  
Wherefore I think thee wise and full of thrift  
That fledst the Town, and hast that blessed gift.   

To a Gentlewoman that always willed him to wear Rosemary, (a Tree that is always green,) for her sake, and in token of his good will to her.  

THe green that you did wish me wear  
aye for your love,  
And on my helm a branch to bear  
not to remove:  
Was ever you to have in mind  
Whom Cupid hath my fear assigned.   

As I in this have done your will,  
and mind to do:  
So I request you to fulfil  
my fancy too:  
A green and loving heart to have,  
And this is all that I do crave.   

For if your flowering heart should change  
his colour green,  
Or you at length a Lady strange  
of me be seen:  
Then will my branch against his use  
His colour change for your refuse.   

As Winter's force can not deface  
this branch his hue:  
So let no change of love disgrace  
your friendship true:  
You were mine own and so be still,  
So shall we live and love our fill.   

Then may I think myself to be  
well recompensed,  
For wearing of the Tree that is  
so well defenst  
Against all weather that doth fall,  
When wayward Winter spits his gall.   

And when we meet, to try me true,  
look on my Head,  
And I will crave an oath of you  
where Faith be fled:  
So shall we both assured be  
Both I of you, and you of me.    

¶ An Epitaph of the Lady Br.  
Stay (gentle Friend) that passest by  
and learn this lore of me,  
That mortal things do live to die,  
and die again to be.  
For daily proof hath daily taught  
and yet doth teach it plain,  
That all our substance comes to nought,  
and worldly wealth is vain.  
No rawnsome may redeem thy flesh  
from loathsome lumps of soil,  
The Worms will soon thy Beauty fresh  
with greedy gripe despoil.  
I that was erst of gentle blood  
that never suffered stain,  
Have nothing but a winding shrouds  
in stead of all my gain.  
I twice was bound by solemn oath  
unto a loving Make:  
Yet 'twas my luck to bury both,  
and eke a third to take.  
The joy that forty years had grown  
by those two husbands days,  
In two years space was overthrown  
and altered sundry ways.  
As luck would not allow my choice,  
so Death misliked the same:  
Those two agreed with common voice  
my bondage too unframe.  
The Lady (Br) quoth Fortune though  
her worship shall not lose:  
Then she (quoth Death) shall have no more,  
nor other husband choose.  
Thus did they both contend at once  
who mought the friendlist be:  
Thus Death and Fortune for the nonce  
did make my body free.  
¶ Pray gentle Friend therefore for me,  
to Mighty jove on high:  
For as I am so thou shalt be  
since thou dost live to die.  
Trust never Fortunes fickle fate,  
but Virtue still retain:  
Thou mayst in time exchange estate,  
yet Virtue will remain.   

Of the time he first began to love and after how he forewent the same.  

How may it be that Snow and Ise  
engender heat?  
Or how may Glare and Frost entice  
a fervent sweat?  
Or how may Summer season make  
of heat a cold?  
How may the Spring the leaves down shake  
and trees unfold?  
Though these to others seem full rare,  
To me no news at all they are.   

For I myself in Winter tide  
when cold was rife,  
Hot gleams of Cupid did abide  
and storms of strife.  
In frosty weather I was warm  
and burning hot,  
But when the Bees and Birds did swarm,  
full cold God wots:  
In Winter time began my love,  
Which I in Summer did remove.    

The assured promise of a constant Lover.  
WHen Phoenix shall have many Makes,  
And Fishes shun the Silver Lakes:  
When wolves and lambs yfere shall play,  
And Phoebus cease to shine by day:  
When Grass on Marble stone shall grow,  
And every man embrace his foe:  
When Moles shall leave to dig the ground,  
And Hares accord with hateful Hound:  
When Laurel leaves shall lose their her,  
And men of Crete be counted true:  
When Vulcan shall be cold as Ice,  
Coraebus eke approved wise:  
When Pan shall pass Apollo's skill,  
And Fools of fancies have their fill:  
When Hawks shall dread the silly Fowl,  
And men esteem the nightish Owl:  
When Pearl shall be of little price,  
And golden Virtue friend to Vice:  
When Fortune hath no change in store,  
Then will I false and not before.  
Till all these Monsters come to pass  
I am Timetes as I was.  
My Love as long as life shall last,  
Not forcing any Fortune's blast.  
No threat, nor thraldom shall prevail  
To cause my faith one jot to fail,  
But as I was, so will I be,  
A Lover and a Friend to thee.   

The Pine to the Mariner.  
O Man of little Wit,  
What means this frantic fit,  
To make thy Ship of me  
That am a slender Tree,  
Whom erie blast that blows  
Full lightly overthrows?  
Doth this not move thy mind  
That rage of roaring wind  
Did beat my boughs a good  
When erst I grew in Wood?  
How can I here avoid  
The foe that there annoyed?  
Thinkest thou now I am made  
A Vessel for thy trade,  
I shall be more at ease  
Amid the flashing Seas?  
I fear if Aeole frown,  
Both thou and I shall drown.   

Again otherwise.  
A Vassell to the wind  
when erst I grew in wood,  
How shall I favour find  
now fleeting in the flood?  
For there whilst reaching roots did hold  
I thought I mought be somewhat bold.  
But now that I am cut  
and framed another way,  
And to this practice put  
in danger cry day.  
I fear the force of cruel foe,  
my ribs are thin, my sides be low  
But if thou venture life,  
than I will hazard limb,  
For thee is all my grief,  
for lightly I shall swim:  
Though top and tackle all be torn,  
yet I aloft the surge am borne.   

To an old Gentlewoman, that painted her face.  
Leave off good Beroe now  
to sléeke thy shriuled skin,  
For Hecuba's face will never be,  
as Helen's hue hath been.  
Let Beauty go with youth,  
renounce the glozing Glass,  
●●ake Book in hand: that seemly Rose  
〈◊〉 woxen withered Grass.  
●●●…ooue thy Peacocks plumes  
thou crank and curious Dame:  
〈◊〉 other Trulls of tender years  
resign the flag of Fame.   

Of one that had a great Nose.  
Stand with thy Nose against  
the Sun with open chaps,  
And by thy teeth we shall discern  
what 'tis a clock perhaps.   

Of one whose Nose was greater than his hand.  
O Proclus, 'tis in vain  
that thou about dost stand,  
For well I see thou mindste to wipe  
thy Nares with thy hand.  
Truth is that though thou be  
fowl fisted out of frame:  
Yet doth this tossing Nose of thine  
in bigness pass the same.  
When néezing thou on jove  
for secure séemste to cry  
Thou canst not hear, thy Nose debars  
the noise to Ear to fly.  
It beateth back the sound,  
it stands in middle place  
Twixt Ear and Mouth, but sure it casts  
a shade to all the face.   

Of a Nightingale that slew to Colche to sit abroad.  
THou sielie foul what means this foolish pain,  
to fly to Colche too hatch thy chickens there?  
A Mother thou mayst hap return again,  
Medea will destroy thy brood I fear.  
For she that spared not to spoil her own,  
Will she stand friend to Fowls that are unknown?   

Again of the Nightingale.  
WHat (Philomela) means this fond intent  
To hatch thy brood in fell Medea's lap?  
What? dost thou hope her rigour will relent  
Toward thy Babes, that gave her own no pap?  
But slew them all at once, and at a clap?  
I wot not what thou meanst: unless that she  
Should kill thy Brats, too make the Mother free.   

Of a contrary marriage.  
AN aged Trot and tough  
did marry with a Lad:  
Again, a Gallant Girl to.  
her Spouse, a Graybeard had,  
A monstrous match (God wot)  
for others she doth wed:  
And he bestows his seed on ground  
that lets it take no head.  
In faith, a foolish choice,  
for neither hath his wish:  
For tone doth lack his wife, and to.  
there feeds on filthy fish.   

Of Drunkenness.  
AT night when Ale is in,  
like friends we part to bed:  
In mororw grey when Ale is out,  
then hatred is in head.   

Again of Drunkenness.  
MEn having quaffed  
are friendly overnight:  
In dawning dry  
a man too man a sprite.   

Of the picture of a vain Rhetorician.  
THis Rufe his Table is,  
can nothing be more true:  
If Rufus hold his peace, this piece  
and he are one to view.   

Of the fond discord of the two Theban brothers, Octocles and Polynices.  
IN death you part the fire,  
you cut the cruel flame:  
If so you had divided Thebes  
you might enjoy the same.   

Of a marvelous deformed man.  
TO draw the mind in Table to the sight  
Is hard: to paint the limbs is counted light:  
But now in thee these two are nothing so,  
For Nature splayes thy mind to open show.  
We see by proof of thy unthrifty deeds,  
The covert kind from whence this filth proceeds.  
But who can paint those shapeless limbs of thine,  
When each to view thy Carcase doth repine?   

A Mirror of the fall of Pride.  
SOmetime the Giants did rebel  
against the mighty jove,  
They thought in Olymp Mount to dwell  
and long for that they strove.  
A hundred hands each Monster had  
by course of cursed kind:  
A stock so stubborn and so mad  
I no where else can find.  
Dame Tellus was their Mother thought  
of pleasant Poets all,  
By whom they would have brought to nought  
the seat olympical.  
First Briareus began the broil  
who took a hill in hand,  
And laid it on another soil  
that thereabout did stand:  
Still calling on his monstrous Mates  
exhorting them the same,  
And with the rest the Gnuffe debates  
how stately Gods to tame.  
Ossa was laid on Pyndus back.  
and Pelion on high:  
And thus they thought to bring to sack  
in time the starry Sky.  
They did envy the Gods the place  
by nature them assigned:  
And thought it meeter for a race  
which Tellus bred by kind.  
They would have had the highest throne  
that jove had long possessed:  
And down they would the Gods have thrown  
and Princely power repressed.  
At length the rout began to roar  
in making dreadful sound,  
The like was never heard before  
to Heaven from the ground.  
Then jupiter began to gaze  
and look about the Sky,  
And all the Gods were in a maze  
the Monsters were so nigh.  
They called a counsel then in haste  
the Gods assembled tho:  
And common sentence was at last  
that mighty jove should throw  
His thunderbolt that Vulcan lame  
prepared for the nonce,  
Whereby he might eftsoon make tame  
the haughty Giants bones.  
Then might you see the mountains fall  
and hill from hill departed,  
And monsters in the valley crawl  
whom Thunder did subvert.  
The Mountains were not raised so quick  
but down they fell as fast:  
And Giants in a cluster thick  
to Tellus fell at last.  
Such plagues had pride in former time,  
the Gods abhorred so  
That mortal men should dare to climb  
the Heavens hie to know.  
And not alone the heavenly rout  
the lofty looks correct  
Of such as proudly go about  
their Empire to reject:  
But other Gods of meaner state  
(of whom the Poets writ)  
Such peevish Peacocks pride do hate  
and seek revenge by might.  
The grisly God whom floods obey  
and drenching Seas embrace,  
Who in the waters bears the sway  
where Nereus shows his face:  
Whom forceth he by surge of Seas  
into Charybdis cliffs?  
Or whom doth Neptune most disease?  
or whom to Scylla drives?  
Not him that bears his Sails allow,  
nor him that keeps the shore:  
Ne yet the Bargeman that doth row  
with long and limber Oar.  
Not those that haunt the Haven sure  
and port of peril void,  
They cannot Neptune's wrath procure  
the Channel that avoid:  
But those that void of carck and care  
and fear of Neptune's ire,  
Do hoist their Sails and never spare  
to further their desire,  
And do receive whole Gales of wind  
from mighty Aeole sent:  
Those, those are they by course of kind  
that Neptune makes repent.  
He spoils the Sails, and tackle tears,  
the Mast it goes to wrack:  
The Ribs they rend, the Shipmen fears  
when Gables give to crack.  
Then whereto serves the Pilat's pride  
that hoist his Sails so high?  
And where is he that feared no tide  
nor threatening from the Sky?  
His pride procured his fearful fate  
and fortune that befell.  
Which Neptune most of all doth hate  
as Shipmen know right well.  
Let Giants fall and shipmen's case  
a mirror be therefore  
To such as seek to high a place,  
for like shall be their lore.  
Narcissus may example be  
and mirror to the proud,  
By whom they may most plainly see  
how pride hath been allowed.  
His beauty brave such lofty cheer  
in him did breed in time:  
That Gods themselves aggrieved were  
with such a heinous crime.  
No loving Lass might him allure,  
nor Diane's Nymphs at all  
By aught his friendship might procure:  
but note ye well his fall.  
In Summer time as Fortune would  
his Fortune was to be  
In open field, where no man could  
his blazing beauty see.  
At length in ranging to and fro  
his fortune was to find  
A Fountain fresh that there did flow  
as Gods (I think) assigned.  
He thought forthwith his thirst to quent  
by pleasant travail goat,  
But there he found or ere he went  
a greater drought God wot.  
In stooping down to take the taste  
of crystal waters there,  
(Unhappy Boy) had spied at last  
a little Boy appear.  
Whose beauty brave, and liking look  
his fancy pleased so well,  
That there himself the Boy forsook  
and to a frenzy fell.  
He had that he so fond looude:  
and yet it was not so:  
And from himself he was removed  
that thence did never go.  
He was the Boy that took the view,  
he was the Boy espied,  
And being both he neither knew,  
such was the end of pride.  
Then 'gan he shed his tears a down,  
then 'gan he make his plaint:  
And then at length he fell to ground  
sore feebled all with faint.  
His spirit that erst so proud was seen  
converted into wind:  
But of his Corpse a flower green  
still there abode behind.  
Narcissus called (as Poets tell)  
as Narcisse was before,  
In token that to Narcisse fell  
this most unhappy lore.  
I could recite the histories  
of many other more,  
Whom peevish pride the miseries  
of Fortune forced to know.  
But I of purpose will let pass  
Apollo's Bastard Son,  
Who Phaeton cleped was  
when first his fame begun.  
I mind not to rehearse at all  
the charge he took in hand,  
I wittingly omit his fall  
into Eridan sand.  
But this I say assuredly  
had it not been for pride,  
The charet had not gone awry  
though Phaeton were guide.  
But glory vain and want of skill  
enforced his haughty heart,  
Of Phoebe to crave to work his will  
in ruling Phoebus Cart.  
The like attempt took Icarus  
from Creta that did fly  
By wings of War with Dedalus,  
when Icar slew to high.  
His Father's words prevailed not  
nor lesson taught before,  
Till feigned feathers were so hot  
as he could fly no more.  
For want of wings than 'gan he clap  
his breast with open arms  
Till down he fell: such was his hap,  
whose pride procured his harms.  
When wrestling winds from Aeole sent  
befight themselves so long  
That East against the West is bend,  
and North puts South to wrong:  
Then may you hear the Pine to crack  
that bears his head so high,  
And lofty lugs go then to wrack  
which seem to touch the Sky.  
When jove flings down his thundering bolts  
our vices to redress,  
They batter down the highest holts  
and touch not once the less.  
The Cotte is surer than the Hall  
in proof we daily see:  
For highest things do soon fall  
from their felicity.  
What makes the Phoenix flame with fire  
a Bird so rare in sight?  
What causeth him not to retire  
from Phoebus' burning light?  
In faith if he would live below  
as Birds Damn Nature taught,  
The Esterlings should never know  
their Phoenix burned so oft.  
All ye therefore that surety love  
and would not have a fall,  
From you the Peacock's pride remove  
and trust not Fortunes Ball.  
Let Phaeton's fate be feared of you  
and Icars' lot also:  
Remember that the Pine doth rue  
that he so high doth grow.   

Of the Clock and the Cock.  
GOod reason thou allow  
one letter more to me  
Than to the Cock: For Cocks do sléept  
when Clocks do wake for thee.   

Of a Tailor.  
THough Tailor cut thy garment out of frame,  
And strie thy stuff by sowing it arms:  
Yet must we say the Tailor makes the jame,  
To make and mar is one with themywis.   

The Lover finding his Love flitted from wont troth leaves to write in praise of her.  
THough clean contrary be my Verse  
to those I wrote before,  
Yet let not reckless doom accuse  
my wandering wits the more.  
As time doth shape and show (they say)  
so ought our style to frame,  
In Summer, Sun, we need no fire,  
yet winter asketh flame:  
So I that erst found cause of sport  
and matter to rejoice,  
Of force by fancy was procured  
to use a gladsome voice.  
And now since deep despair hath drenched  
my hope, I will assay  
To turn my tune and change my cheer  
and leave my wonted lay.  
Not far unlike the chirping Fowl  
in Summer that doth sing,  
And during Winter hides his head  
till next return of Spring.  
They say when altered is the cause  
of force effect doth sue:  
As new repair of better blood  
doth cause a Hawk to mue.  
Though Aetna burn by kindly course  
and belike out fire with fume:  
When Sulphur vain is clean extinct  
the fire will consume.  
Whereby I may conclude aright  
that each Effect must be  
As is his Cause: so fruit ensues  
the nature of the Tree.  
Then I of force must shape my style  
as matter is I write:  
Unless I would be thought to match  
a Falcon with a Kite.  
When wind and wave at Sea do roar  
that Bark is in distress,  
Then time requires that shipmen should  
their Tackles all address.  
Then crooked anchors must be cast  
the shaken Ship to stay  
From sinking Sands, and ruthless Rocks  
that Shipmen oft affray.  
No sooner Triton blows his Trump  
and swollen waters quails,  
And Aeole makes his winds retire:  
but hoist they up the sails.  
Then fleet they forward in the flood,  
then cut they waves in twain:  
Then launch they on (as erst they did)  
with all their might and main;  
So I hereafter must assay  
my wonted tune to change  
As time requires, and I in love  
shall find my Lady strange.  
If she be one of Cressida's crew  
and serve her former Hest,  
No Lucrece must I term her then,  
for that were but a jest.  
Or if she false her fixed faith,  
Ulysses' wives renown  
Unfitting is for her whose love  
endureth but a stowne.  
Wherefore, I will as time shall shape  
and she her love prolong,  
Apply my Pen, and tell the troth  
as best I may in Song.   

He sorrows other to have the fruits of his service.  
SOme men would look to have  
a recompense of pain,  
And Reason wills it so to be  
unless we list to feign:  
Some would expect for love  
to have unfeigned heart,  
And think it but a fit reward  
for such a good defart.  
But I (unhappy Wight)  
that spend my love in vain,  
Do seek for secure at her hands  
while other get the gain.  
As thirsty ground doth gape  
to swallow in the shower:  
Even so far I poor Harpalus  
whom Cupid's pains devour.  
I hold the Hive in hand  
and pain myself thereby,  
While other eat the hidden foods  
that are not half so dry.  
I plough the soil with pain  
and cast my seed thereon:  
And other come that shear the sheaves  
and laugh when I am gone.  
Mine is the Winter's toil,  
and theirs the summers gain:  
The Harvest falls out too their share  
that felt no part of pain.  
I bear the pinching yoke  
and burden on my back,  
And other drive when I must draw,  
and thus I go to wrack.  
I fast when other feed,  
I thirst when other drink:  
I mourn when they triumph for joy,  
they swim when I must sink.  
They have the hoped gain  
whiles I the loss endure:  
They whole at heart, whilst I my grief  
by no means can recure.  
They shroud themselves in shade,  
I sit in open Sun:  
They leap as Lambs in lusty Leaze,  
I lie as one undunne.  
They taste their nightly rest,  
my troubled head doth wake:  
I toss and turn from side to side  
while they their pleasure take.  
I would, but they enjoy,  
I crave that is debarred,  
They have: what will you more I say?  
their service is preferred.  
Thus I procure my woe  
by framing them their joy:  
In seeking how to salve my sore  
I breed my chief annoy.  
So sheep with wool are clad  
their Masters have the gain,  
So Birds do build their Nests on Brakes  
and put themselves to pain,  
But other taste the fruit  
when so their brood is hatched:  
The Nest remains, the Birds are gone,  
the Chickens are dispatched.  
So Bees for Honey toil  
in fleeing too and fro,  
And silly wretches take great pains  
for whom they little know.  
I think it is procured  
by grisly Gods above  
That some should gape, and other gain  
the fruit of others love.  
But sure if Woman's will  
be forger of my woe,  
And not the mighty Gods ordain  
my destiny to be so:  
Then must I needs complain  
and curse their cruel kind,  
That in requital of good will  
do show themselves unkind.  
But whether be the cause,  
hereafter I intend  
To fawn on them that force on me,  
and bow when other bend.  
This one abuse shall make  
me take the better heed  
On whom I fix my fancy fast,  
or make a friend in deed.   

The Lover seeing himself abused, renounceth love.  
THough men account it shame  
and folly to repent,  
Or grudged good will that was bestowed  
when nought save faith was meant:  
Yet can they not deny  
but if the knot be burst,  
Then may we show ourselves unkind  
that friendly were at furst.  
He runs an endless race  
that never turns again,  
And he a fonded Lover is  
that wastes his love in vain.  
Nought can he judge of hues,  
that can not see when Guile  
In place of friendship cloaks herself  
in form of forged wile.  
And he that plainly sees  
the Trap before his eye  
And will not shun from peril, 'tis  
no matter though he die.  
I tell my tale by proof  
I speak it not by rot,  
To love a subtle Lass of late  
was fallen to my lot.  
On whom I set such store  
such comfort and delight,  
As life it was to see her face,  
a death to want her sight.  
So I might do the thing  
that might abridge her smart,  
And banish all annoy that grew  
by froward fortunes Art:  
What danger would I dread?  
or peril seem to shun?  
None that is here below on earth  
or subject to the Sun.  
To show myself a Friend  
to her, I was my Foe:  
She was the only Idol whom  
I honoured here below.  
This is (thought I) the same  
that was Ulysses' wife:  
Who in the absence of her Make  
did lead a doleful life.  
Or else 'tis she at least  
whom Tarquyn did enforce  
By beastly rape with piercing sword  
so to for do her Corpse.  
But such is her abuse  
so froward eke her grace,  
As love it may no longer last  
since friendship hides his face.  
I did not well advise  
I built on sinking Sande.  
And when I thought she looude me best  
she bore me but in hand.  
Where I had thought a port  
and Haven sure to be:  
There found I hap and dreadful death,  
as gazers on may see.  
As Mouse that treads the trap  
in hope to find repast,  
And bites the bread that breeds his bane  
and is entrapped fast:  
Like was my doleful case  
that fed upon my woe,  
Till now Repentance wills me all  
such fancies to forego.  
And (thanked be good hap)  
now once again I fleet  
And swim aloft, that sanck of late  
fast hampered by the feet.  
Now is my fortune good  
so Fortune grant it last:  
And I as happy as the best  
now stormy clouds are past,  
I find the bottom firm  
and stable where I pass,  
There are no haughty Rocks at hand  
ne yet no ground of Glass.  
Good Anchor hold I have  
so I may use it still,  
I am no more a bounden Thrall  
but free I live at will.  
But that which most torments  
my mind, and reaves my joy.  
Is, for I served a fickle Wench  
that bred me this annoy,  
But Gods forgive my guilt  
and time misspent before  
And I will be a silly Sot  
of Cupid's crew no more.   

Against the jealous heads that always have Lovers in suspect.  
WHen jealous juno saw her mighty Make  
Had Io turned into a brutish kind  
More covertly of her his lust to take:  
To work her will & all his fraud to find  
She craved the Cow in gift at jove his hand,  
Who could not well his Sister's suit withstand.  
When yielded was her boon and Hest fulfilled  
To Argus charge committed was the Cow,  
For he could wake so well, him juno willed  
To watch the Beast with never sleeping brow:  
With hundredth eyes that hateful Hierds' head  
Was decked, some watched when some to sleep were led.  
So warded he by day, so waked by night  
And did Dame junos' will accomplish so,  
As neither jove might once delude his sight,  
Nor Io part her pointed pasture fro:  
His staring eyes on Io still were bend,  
He marked her march, and sued her as she went.  
Till jove at length to ruth and pity moved  
To see the spiteful hate that Argus bore  
To her, whom he so fervently had looude  
And who for him abode such endless care:  
His feathered Son Cylenus sent from Skies  
To reave the careful Clown his watchful eyes.  
Who to fulfil his Lord and Father's Hest  
took charmed Rod in hand and Pipe to play,  
And girt him with a sword as lykte him best  
And to the field he slew where Argus lay  
Disguised like a shepherd in his weed  
That he his purpose might the better speed.  
When each had other salved in his sort,  
To brag upon his Pipe the Clown began,  
And said, that for that noise and gallant sport  
All other mirths and may-games he would shoes,  
His only joy was on his Pipe to play:  
And then to blow the Rustic did assay.  
In fine when Argus had his cunning showed,  
And each to other chatted had a space  
Of this and that as was befallen abroad,  
Mercurius took his Pipe from out his cafe  
And thereon played he so passing well,  
As most of Argus eyes to slumber fell.  
And as they slept with charmed Rod he struck  
The drowsy Dolt to keep him in that plight,  
And played so long till time he did provoke  
All Argus eyes to bid the beast God night:  
Whom when he saw in such a slumber led,  
He stole the Cow, and swapped of Argus' head.  
Such was the fine of his despitous hate,  
Such was the boon and guerdon of his hire,  
And all the good the careful Coward gate  
For seeking to debar the God's desire:  
A fit reward for such a good desert,  
The Coward might have played a wiser part.  
God send the like and worse to such as use  
(As Argus did) with ever waking eye  
The blameless sort of Lovers to abuse,  
That always ready are and priest to pry  
The purpose to bewray and covert toys  
Of faithful friends, and bar their blissful joys.  
I trust there will be found in time of need  
A Mercury with charmed Twig in hand  
And pleasant Pipe, their waking eyes to feed  
With drowste dumps, their purpose to withstand:  
That jealous heads may learn to be wise  
For fear they lose (as Argus did) their eyes  
For Cupid takes disdain and scorn to see  
His Thralls abused in such unseemly sort,  
Who seek no greedy gain nor filthy fee,  
But pleasant play, and Venus' sugared sport:  
A slender hire (God wot) to quite the pain  
That Lovers bide, or they their love attain.   

That it is hurtful to conceal secrets from our Friends.  
A Smart in silence kept  
(as Ovid doth express)  
Doth more torment the pained man  
than him that seeks redress.  
For than it respite takes,  
and leisure to procure  
Such mischief as for want of help  
the longer doth endure.  
As if thou set no salve  
where rankleth swelling sore,  
It will in further process pain,  
and thee torment the more.  
I sundry times have seen  
a wound that erst was small,  
In time for want of surgeons sight  
to greater mischief fall:  
And eke the baleful blow  
so grievous that was thought,  
Full quickly cured by surgeons sleight  
if he were quickly sought.  
So fareth it by man,  
that keeps in covert breast  
The pinching pain that breeds within,  
increasing great unreast;  
That never will disclose  
the secret of his heart,  
But rather suffer fervent fits  
and deeper piercing smart.  
For why was friendship found  
and quickly put in ure,  
But that th'one of thothers help  
should think himself full sure?  
Why are they like in mind  
and one in erie part?  
Why are they two in bodies twain  
possessing but one heart?  
And why doth one mislike,  
that so offends his fear,  
But that they two are one in deed  
it plainly might appear?  
Did Tully ever dread  
his secrets to disclose  
To Atticus his loving Friend,  
in whom he did repose  
Such credit and such trust  
and in himself he might,  
To whom full oft with painful Pen  
this Tully did indight?  
What ever Theseus thought  
Perythous could tell,  
With weary travel that pursued  
his loving friend to Hell.  
Was Damon dainty found  
to Pythias at all,  
For whom he would with Tyrant staid  
as pledge to live in thrall?  
In Pylades was nought  
but that Orestes knew,  
Who privy was from time to time  
how care or comfort grew.  
Gysippus felt no grief  
but Titus bided the same:  
And where that Titus found relief  
their Gysippe had his game.  
When Laelius did laugh  
then Scipio did joy:  
And what Menetus Son misliked  
Achilles did annoy.  
Aeurialus his thoughts  
and secrets of his heart  
To Nysus would declare at large,  
were they of joy or smart.  
All these conjoined were  
in surest league of love,  
Whom neither Fortune good or bad,  
nor Death might once remove.  
They would not think in mind  
nor practise that at all:  
But to that same their trusty Friends  
they would in counsel call.  
All those therefore that wish  
their inward pains redress,  
Must to their most assured Friend  
it outwardly express.  
So may they chance to find  
a salve for secret sore,  
Which otherwise in covert kept  
will soon increase to more.   

Of the divers and contrary passions and affections of his love.  
TO Physic those that long have gone  
and spent their time in grief,  
Affirm that Patients in their pains  
will shun their best relief.  
They will refuse the Tysants' taste  
and wholesome drinks despise,  
Which to recure diseases fell  
Phisttions did devise:  
But when they be debarred the same  
which so they shunned before,  
They cry and call for Tysants then  
as sovereign for their sore.  
Such is the wayward guise of those  
with pangs that are oppressed,  
They wish for that they never had,  
and shun that they possessed.  
I may to them right well compare  
the lovers divers thought,  
That likes, and then mislikes again  
that they long erst had sought.  
They will not, when they may, enjoy  
their heart's desired choice:  
They then defy, they then detest  
with loud and loathsome voice.  
They will refuse when time doth serve,  
but when such time is gone,  
They sigh and schreach with mournful cry  
and make a ruthful moan.  
They little think that Time hath wings  
or knoweth how to fly:  
They hope to have it still at hand  
that swiftly passeth buy.  
They think that Time will tarry them  
and for their fancy stay,  
But Time in little time is gone  
it fleeteth fast away.  
So stands the fool by fléeting flood  
and looketh for a turn:  
But River runs and still will run  
and never shape return.  
What? do they hope that beauty's glass  
will still continue bright?  
Nay, when the day is gone and passed  
by course appears the night.  
For crooked age his wonted trade  
is for to plough the face  
With wrinkled furrows, that before  
was chief of Beauty's grace.  
Perhaps they think that men are mad,  
and once entrapped in love  
Will never strive to break the snare  
nor never to remove.  
No Fowler that had wily Wit  
but will foresee such hap,  
That Birds will always busk and bate  
and scape the Fowlers Trap.  
And if their fortune favour so,  
than who doth mount so high  
As those that guileful Pitfall took  
prepared for to die?  
What Fi●● doth fleet so fast as that  
which lately hanged on hook?  
By happy hap if he escape,  
he will not backward look.  
Take time therefore thou foolish Feeme,  
whilst Time doth serve so well:  
For Time away as fast doth flee  
as any sound of Bell.  
And thou perhaps in after Time  
when Time is past and gone,  
Shall lie lamenting loss of Time  
as cold as any stone.  
Yet were thou better take thy time  
whilst yet thy Beauty serves,  
For Beauty as the Flower fades  
whom lack of Phoebus starves.   

Of Dido and the truth of her death.  
I Dido and the Queen of Carthage ground,  
Whose limbs thou seest so lively set to sight:  
Such one I was, but never to be found  
So far in love as vergil seems to wright,  
I lived not so in lust and fowl delight.  
For neither he that wandering Duke of Troy  
knew me, nor yet at Lybie land arrived:  
But to escape jarbos' that did noie  
Me sore, of life my Carcase I deprived,  
To keep my Hest that he would tho have rived.  
No storm of love, or dolour made me die,  
I slew myself to save my Sheet of shame  
Wherein good Sycheus wrapped me perdie:  
Then vergil then the greater be thy blame,  
That so by love dost breed my fowl defame.   

Of Venus in Armour.  
IN complete Pallas saw  
the Lady Venus stand:  
Who said, let Paris now be judge  
encounter we with hand.  
Replied the Goddess: what?  
scornste thou in Armour me,  
That naked erst in Ida Mount  
so foiled and conquered thee?   

Of a Hare complaining of the hatred of Dogs.  
THe scenting Hounds pursued  
the hasty Hare of foot:  
The silly Beast to scape the Dogs  
did jump upon a root.  
The rotten scrag it burst,  
from Cliff to Seas he fell:  
Then cried the Hare: unhappy me,  
for now perceive I well  
Both land and Sea pursue  
and hate the hurtless Hare:  
And cake the dogged Skies aloft,  
if so the Dog be there.   

To one that painted Echo.  
THou witless wight, what means this mad intent  
To draw my face & form, unknown to thee?  
What meanst thou so for to molesten me?  
Whom never Cic beheld, nor man could see?  
Daughter to talking tongue, and Air am I,  
My Mother is nothing when things are weighed:  
I am a voice without the body's aid.  
When all the tale is told and sentence said,  
Then I recite the latter word afresh  
In mocking sort and counterfeiting wise:  
Within your ears my chiefest harbour lies,  
There do I won, not seen with mortal eyes.  
And more to tell and farther to proceed,  
I Echo height of men below in ground:  
If thou wilt draw my Counterfeit in deed,  
Then must thou paint (O Painter) but a sound.   

To a cruel Dame for grace and pity.  
AS I do lack the skill  
to show my faithful heart:  
So do you want good will  
too rue your lovers smart.  
The greater is my fire  
the lesser is your heat:  
The more that I desire  
the less you seem to sweat.  
O quench not so the Coal  
of this my faithful flame,  
With nays thou froward soul,  
let yeas increase the same.  
Let us at length agree  
whom Cupid made by law  
Each others friend to be  
in fancies yoke to draw.  
If I do play my part  
at any time amiss,  
Then do bestow thy heart  
where greater Friendship is.  
But if in true good will  
I bear myself upright,  
Let me enjoy thee still  
my service too requite.  
Go thou my fiery Dart  
of scalding hot desire  
To pierre her icy heart  
and set her breast on fire.  
That I may both prolong  
my painful pining days,  
And eke avendge her wrong  
that pain for pleasure pays.  
I never saw the stone  
but often drops would waste:  
Nor Dame but daily moan  
would make her yield at last.   

To a Gentlewoman from whom he took a Ring.  
WHat needs this frowning face?  
what means your look so coy?  
Is all this for a Ring,  
a trifle and a toy?  
What though I rest your Ring?  
I took it not to keep:  
Therefore you need the less  
in such despite to weep.  
For Cupid shall be judge  
and Umpire in this case,  
Or who by hap shall next  
approach into this place.  
You took from me my heart,  
I caught from you a Ring:  
Whose is the greatest loss?  
where ought the grief to spring?  
Keep you as well my heart,  
as I will keep your Ring,  
And you shall judge at last  
that you have lost nothing.  
For if a Friendly heart  
so stuffed with staid love,  
In value do not pass  
the Ring you may reprove  
The reaving of the same,  
and I of force must say  
That I deserved the blame  
who took your Ring away.  
But what if you do wreak  
your malice on my heart?  
Then give me leave to think  
you guilty for your part.  
And when so ere I yield  
to you your Ring again,  
Restore me up my heart  
that now you put to pain.  
For so we both be pleased,  
to say we may be bold  
That neither to the loss  
of us hath bought or sold.   

The Lover blames his Tongue that failed to utter his suit in time of need.  
FOrcause I still preferred the truth before  
Shameless untruth, and loathsome léesing lore,  
I find myself ill recompensed therefore  
Off thee my Tongue.  
For good desert and guiding thee aright,  
That thou for aye mightst live devoid of spite,  
I reap but shame, and lack my chief delight  
For silence kept.  
When happy hap by hap advanced my case,  
And brought me to my Lady face to face,  
Where I her Corpse in safety might embrace,  
Thou heldst thy peace.  
Thou mad'st my voice to cleave amids my throat,  
And suit to cease unluckylie (God wot)  
Thou wouldst not speak, though thou hadst quite forgot  
My heart's behest.  
My heart by thee suspected was of guile,  
For cause thou ceased to use a loving style,  
And words to forge and frame with finest file  
As Lovers wont.  
Thou mad'st my blood fro paled face to start,  
And fly to seek some succour of the heart,  
That wounded was long erst with dreadful dart  
Off Cupid's Bow.  
And thou as cold as any Marble stone  
When from my face the chilly blood was gone,  
Couldst not devise the way to make my moan  
By words appear.  
And (ye my tears) that wonted were to flow  
And stream adown as fast as thawed Snow,  
Were stopped, as than ye had no power to show  
A lovers suit.  
My sighs that erst were wont to dim the Sky,  
And cause a fume by force of flame to fly,  
Were tho as slack, as Welles of weeping dry  
Too show my love.  
The heart that lay encumbered all within  
Had fainted quite had not by looks ybin:  
For they declared the case my heart was in  
By tongues untruth.   

That all things are as they are used.  
WAs never aught by Nature's Art  
Or cunning skill so wisely wrought,  
But Man by practice might convert  
Too worser use than Nature thought.  
Ne yet was ever thing so ill  
Or may be of so small a prize,  
But man may better it by skill  
And change his sort by sound advise.  
So that by proof it may be seen  
That all things are as is their use,  
And man may alter Nature clean,  
And things corrupt by his abuse.  
What better may be found than flame,  
Too Nature that doth succour pay?  
Yet we do oft abuse the same  
In bringing buildings to decay.  
For those that mind to put in ure  
Their malice, moved to wrath and ire:  
To wreak their mischief, will be sure  
Too spill and spoil thy house with fire.  
So Physic that doth serve for ease  
And to recure the grieved soul,  
The painful Patient may disease,  
And make him sick that erst was whole.  
The true Man and the Thief are leek  
For sword doth serve them both at need,  
Save one by it doth safety seek  
And th'other of the spoil to speed.  
As Law and learning doth redress  
That otherwise would go to wrack:  
Even so doth it oft times oppress  
And bring the true man to the rack.  
Though Poison pain the drinker sore  
By boiling in his fainting breast,  
Yet is it not refused therefore,  
For cause sometime it breedeth rest:  
And mixed with Medicines of proof  
According to Machaon's Art,  
Doth serve right well for our behoof  
And succour sends to dying heart.  
Yet these and other things were made  
By Nature for the better use,  
But we of custom take a trade  
By wilful will them to abuse.  
So nothing is by kind so void  
Of vice, and with such virtue fraught,  
But it by us may be anoide,  
And brought in tracked of time too nought  
Again there is not that so ill  
below the Lamp of Phoebus' light,  
But man may better if he will  
Apply his wit to make it right.   

The Lover excuseth himself for renowncing his Love and Lady, imputing the same to his fate and constellation.  
THough Dydo blamed Aeneas truth  
for leaving Carthage shore,  
Where he well entertained had been,  
and like a Prince before:  
Though Theseus were unthrifty thought  
and of a cruel race,  
That in reward of death escaped  
by Aryadnas' Lace,  
Amid the desert woods so wild  
his loving Lass forsook,  
Whom by good hap and lucky lore  
the drowsy Bacchus took.  
Yet if the judges in this case  
their verdict yield aright,  
Nor Theseus nor Aeneas fact  
deserve such endless spite,  
As wayward Women stirred to wrath  
bear fixed fast in mind,  
Still seeking ways to wreak their ire  
upon Aeneas kind.  
For neither lack of liking love,  
nor hope of greater gain,  
Nor fickle fancies force us men  
to break off friendship's chain.  
They loath not that they looude before,  
they hate not things possessed:  
Some other weighty cause they have  
of change, as may be guessed.  
And weighing with myself each one,  
I can none fit find,  
Than that to men such blessed hap  
is by the Gods assigned.  
The golden Stars that guide their age,  
and Planets will them so:  
And Gods (the Rulers of their race)  
procure them to forego  
Their forged faith and plighted truth,  
with promise made so sure,  
That is too seeming strong as Steel,  
and likely to endure.  
For did not mighty jove himself  
the swift Cyllenus send  
To will the Trojan Prince in haste  
into Italia bend  
And leave the liked land so well,  
and Carthage Queen forsake,  
That made him owner of her heart,  
and all that she could make?  
And such was Theseus' lot perdie,  
so hard the maidens hap,  
That she in desert should be left  
and caught in Bacchus' trap.  
Should jason be proclaimed and cried  
a Traitor to the Skies  
For that he Medea left at last  
by whom he won the Flise?  
No, such was Oetes Daughters chance  
in Cradle her assigned,  
And jasans Birthstarre forced the Greek  
to show himself unkind:  
For if rewards might bind so fast,  
and knit the knot so sure,  
Their faith (no doubt) and linked love  
should then of force endure.  
For Dido gave him Carthage Keys,  
the wealth, and soil withal:  
Those other two preserved their lives  
that else had lived in thrall.  
Then sithence streaming Stars procure,  
and fatal powers agree,  
And stawled Gods do condescend  
that I my friendship flee:  
And reave your Bells and cast you off  
to live in haggards wies,  
That for no private stale do care,  
but love to range the Skies:  
I must not seem then to rebel  
nor secret Treason forge,  
But change my choice, and leave my love  
and fancies fond disgorge.  
I crave of Cupid Lord of love  
a pardon for the same,  
For that I now reject his laws  
and quite renounce his game.   

Of Lady Venus, that having lost her Son Cupid God of Love, and desirous to understand of him again, declares by the way the nature of Love and affections of the same, by pretty description as followeth.  

WHat time the Lady Venus sought her little Son  
That Cupid hight, & found him not, she thus begun  
My friends (quoth she) if any chance in open street  
Or crossing paths, that wandering amorous Elf to meet,  
That Runagate (I say) is mine: who so by hap  
Shall first bring tidings of the Boy, in Venus' lap  
Is sure to sit, and have in price of taken pain.  
A sugared kiss. But he that brings him home again,  
A buss? yea not a buss alone doubtless shall have  
But like a Friend I will entreat him passing brave.  
I tell you 'tis a proper youth. Mark every Lun  
And member of my strayed Son that is so trim.  
Not sallow white his body is, but like to flame,  
A fierce and fiery rolling eye sets out the same.  
A mischievous wily heart in Breast the Boy doth bear,  
But yet his words are Honey like and sweet to ear.  
His talking tongue and meaning mind asunder go.  
Smooth filled style for little cost he will bestow.  
But being once inflamed with ire and raging wrath,  
A cruel cankered dogged heart the Urchin hath.  
False Foxely subtle Boy, and glozing lying Lad,  
He sport's to outward sight, but inward chafes like mad.  
A curled Sconce he hath, with angry frowning brow.  
A little hand, yet Dart a cruel way can throw.  
To shady A cheron sometime he flings the same,  
And deepest damp of hollow Hell those Imps to tame.  
Upon his Carcase not a cloth, but naked he  
Of garments goes, his mind is wrapped, and not to see.  
Much like a feathered Fowl he flies, & wags his wings  
Now here now there: the man sometime this Miser wrings  
Sometimes again the Lass to love he doth enforce,  
Of neither kind, nor man nor maid, he hath remorse:  
A little Bow the Boy doth bear in tender hand,  
And in the same an Arrow nockt to string doth stand.  
A slender Shaft, yet such a one as far will fly,  
And being shot from Cupid's Bow will reach the Sky.  
A pretty golden Quiver hangs there albehinde  
Upon his back, wherein who so doth look, shall find  
A sort of sharp and lurching shafts, unhappy Boy  
Wherewith his Lady Mother eke he doth annoy  
Sometimes: but most of all the foolish fretting Elf  
In cruel wife doth cruelly torment and vex himself.  
Do beat the Boy and spare him not at all, if thou  
On him do chance to light: although from childish brow  
And moisted eyes the trickling tears like floods distill,  
Believe him not, for chief then beguile he will.  
Not if he smile unlose his pyniond arms take heed,  
With pleasant home words though he thine ears does feed  
And crave a kiss, beware thou kiss him not at all:  
For in his lips vile venom lurcks, and bitter Gall.  
Or if with friendly face he seem to yield his Bow  
And shafts to thee, his proferde gifts (my Friend) forego  
Touch not with tender hand the subtle flattering Dart  
Of Love, for fear the fire thereof do make thee smart.   

Where this that I have said be true,  
Ye Lovers I appeal to you.  
For ye do know cupido's toys,  
Ye feel his smarts, ye taste his joys.  
A fickle foolish God to serve,  
I term him as he doth deserve.    

Of the cruel hatred of Stepmothers.  
THe Son in law his Stepdame being dead,  
Began her Hierce with Garlands to commend:  
Mean while there fell a stone upon his head  
From out the Tomb that brought the Boy a-bed,  
A proof that Stepdame's hate hath never end.   

Again.  
GLad was the son of frowning Beldames death,  
To witness joy to deck her Tomb 'gan trudge:  
A piece of Marble fell and reft his breath  
As he (good Lad) stood strewing flowers beneath,  
A sign the Death dawnts not the mother's grudge.   

To Cupid for revenge of his unkind and cruel love. Declaring his faithful service and true heart both to the God of Love and his Lady.  
IF I had been in Trojan ground  
When Lady Venus took her wound:  
IF I in Greekish camp had been,  
Or clad in armour had been seen:  
If Hector had by me been slain,  
Or Prince Aeneas put to pain:  
If I the Machine huge had brought,  
By Grecian guile so falsely wrought,  
Or raised it above the wall,  
Of Troy that procured the fall:  
Then could I not thee (Cupid) blame,  
If thou didst put me to this shame.  
But I have always been as true  
To thee and thine in order due,  
As ever was there any Wight,  
That faith and truth to Cupid plight.  
I never yet despise thy law,  
But aye of thee did stand in awe:  
I never called thee Buzzard blind,  
I no such fault in thee did find,  
But thought my time well spent to be  
That I employed in serving thee.  
I wist thou wert of force and power  
To conquer Princes in an hour  
When thou retaindst me as thy man  
I thought myself most happy than.  
Since this is true that I have said,  
Good Cupid let me have thy aid,  
Help me to wreak my wrath aright  
And succour me to work my spite.  
To thee it appertains of due  
Him to assist that is so true:  
And thou of reason shouldst torment  
Such as by wilful will are bend  
To triumph over those that serve  
Thee in the field, and never swerver,  
Go bend thy Bow with hasty speed,  
And make her Tiger's heart to bleed.  
Cause her that little sets by me,  
Yet still to stand in awe of thee.  
Let her perceive thy fervent fire,  
And what thou art in raging ire,  
Now show thyself no man to be,  
Let her a God both feel and see.  
She forceth not my cutting pain,  
Her vowed oaths she ways as vain.  
She sits in peace at quiet rest,  
And scorns at me so dispossessed.  
She laughs at thee, and mocks thy might,  
Thou art not Cupid in her sight.  
She spites at me without cause why,  
She forceth not although I die.  
I am her captive bound in Give  
And dare not once for life to strive.  
The more to thee I call and cry,  
To rid me from this cruelty,  
The more she seeks to work her ire,  
The more she burns with scalding fire.  
And all for Cupid's sake I bide,  
From whose decrees I do not glide.  
Wherefore (I say) go bend thy Bow,  
And to her heart an Arrow throw:  
That Dart which breaketh hearts of flint  
And gives the cruel crasing dint,  
Upon her crabbed breast bestow,  
That she thy force and power may know:  
That she a Mirror may be known  
To such as be thy deadly fone,  
So shall they good example take,  
How to abuse men for thy sake.  
Let her (good Cupid) understand,  
That I am thine both heart and hand.  
And to play quittance force a fire,  
That she may fry with hot desire  
Of me, whom erst she put to pain,  
And this is all that I would gain.   

An Answer to his Lady, that willed him that absence should not breed forgetfulness.  
THough Noble Surrey said  
that absence wonders frame,  
And makes things out of sight forgot,  
and thereof takes his name:  
Though some there are that force  
but on their pleasures priest,  
Unmindful of their plighted truth  
and falsely forged hest:  
Yet will I not approve  
me guilty of this crime,  
Ne break the friendship late begun  
as you shall try in time.  
No distance of the place  
shall reave thee from my breast:  
Not fawning chance, nor frowning hap  
shall make me serve my Hest.  
As soon may Phoebus frame  
his fiery Steads to run  
Their race from path they wonted were,  
and end where they began:  
As soon shall Saturn cease  
his bended broowes to show,  
And frowning face to friendly Stars  
that in their Circles go:  
As soon the Tiger tame  
and Lion shall you find:  
And brutish beasts that savage were  
shall serve their bedlam kind:  
As soon the frost shall flame,  
and Aetna cease to burn,  
And restless Rivers to their springs  
and Fountains shall return;  
As absence breed debate,  
or want of sight procure  
Our faithful friendships writhe awry  
whilst lively breath endure.  
As soon I will commit  
myself to Lethe's lake  
As thee (sweet friend) whom I a Friend  
have chose for virtues sake.  
How may a man forget  
the coal that burns within?  
Augmenting still his secret sore  
by piercing fell and skin?  
May Martyrs cease to mourn  
or think of torments priest,  
Whilst pain to pain is added aye  
to further their unrest?  
May Shipmen in distress  
at pleasure of the wind  
Tost too and fro by surge of Seas  
that they in tempest find,  
Forget Neptunus' rage  
or blustering Borias blast,  
When Cables are in sunder cracked,  
and tackle rend from Mast?  
Ne may I (Friend) forget  
(unless I would but feign)  
The salve that doth recure my sore  
and heals the scar again.  
I send thee by the wind  
ten thousand sighs a day,  
Which dim the Skies with cloudy smoke  
as they do pass away.  
Oft gazing on the Sun  
I count Apollo blessed,  
For that he views thee once aday  
in passing to the West.  
Oh that I had his power  
and blazing Lamp of light  
Then thou my Friend should stand asurde  
to never see the night.  
But since it is not so,  
content thyself a while:  
And with remembrance of thy Friend  
the loathsome time beguile.  
Till Fortune do agree  
that we shall meet again:  
For then shall presence breed our joys  
whom absence put to pain.  
And of my old good will  
(good Friend) thyself assure  
Have no distrust, my love shall last  
as long as life shall dure.   

Of a Thracyan that was drowned by playing on the Ice.  
A Thracyan Boy well tippled all the day  
Upon a frozen Spring did sport and play,  
The slipper Ice with hieft of bodies sway  
On sudden brake, & swapped his head away:  
It swum aloft, below the Carcase lay.  
The Mother came and bore the head away:  
When she did bury it thus 'gan she say.  
This brought I forth in flame his Hierce to have,  
The rest amids the flood to find a grave.   

The Lover hoping in May to have had redress of his woes, and yet foully missing his purpose, bewails his cruel hap.  
MOu that in May have bathed in bliss  
And found a salve to ease your sore:  
Do May observance, Reason is  
That May should honoured be therefore.  
Awake out of your drowsy sleep  
And leave your tender Beds of Down,  
Of Cupid's Laws that taken keep  
With Summer flowers deck your Crown.  
As soon as Venus' Star doth show  
That brings the dawning on his back  
And cheerful light gins to grow  
By putting of his Foe to wrack:  
Repair to hear the wedded Makes  
And late ycoupled in a knot,  
The Nightingale that sits in Brakes  
And tells of Tereus' truth by note:  
The Thrussell, with the Turtle Dove,  
The little Robin eke yfere  
That make rehearsal of their love,  
Make haste (I say) that ye were there.  
Into the fields where Diana dwells  
With Nymphs environed round about,  
Haste ye to dance about the Wells,  
A fit pastime for such a rout.  
Let them do this that have received  
In May the hire of hoped grace:  
But I as one that am bereaude  
Of blissful state, will hide my face,  
And dole my days with ruthful voice  
As fits a reckless Wight to do:  
Since now it lies not in my choice  
To quite me from this cursed woe.  
I harbour in my breast a thought  
Which now is turned another way,  
That pleasant May would me ybrought  
From Scylla to a better bay.  
Since all (quoth I) that Nature made,  
And placed here in earth below,  
When Spring returns, of wonted trade  
Do banish grief that erst did grow,  
And changeth eke the churlish cheer  
And frowning face of Tellus hew,  
With vernant flowers that appear  
To clad the soil with mantel new:  
Since Snakes do cast their shriveled skins,  
And Bucks hang up their heads on pale,  
Since frisking Fishes lose their fins,  
And glide with new repaired scale:  
Then I of force with greedy eye  
Must hope to find to ease my smart,  
Since each annoy in Spring doth die,  
And cares to comfort do convert.  
Then I (quoth I) shall reach the port  
And fast mine Aucker on the ground,  
Where lies my pleasure and disport  
Where is my surety to be found:  
There shall my beaten Bark have road,  
And I for service done be paid,  
My sorrows quite shall be unload,  
Even thus unto myself I said.  
But (out alas) it falls not so,  
May is to me a Month of moan,  
In May though others comfort grow,  
My seeds of grief are surely sown.  
My bitter Tears for water serve  
Wherewith the Garden of my breast  
I moist, for fear the seeds should starve,  
And thus I frame mine own unrest.  
Let others than that féelen joy  
extol the merry Month of May,  
And I that tasted have annoy,  
In praise thereof will nothing say.  
But wish return of winter's war  
And blustering force of Boreas' force again.  
These sour seeds of woe to mar  
By force of wind and wisking rain.  
And so perhaps by better fate  
At next return of Spring, I may  
By changing of my former state  
Cast off my care, and change my lay.   

To a fickle and unconstant Dame, a friendly warning.  
WHat may I think of you (my Falcon free)  
That having hood, lines, buets, bells of me,  
And wonted erst when I my game did spring  
To fly so well and make such nimble wing,  
As might no Fowl for weightnesse well compare  
With thee, thou wert a Bird so passing rare:  
What may I deem of thee (fair Falcon) now,  
That neither to my lure nor train wilt bow.  
But this that when my back is turned and gone,  
Another gives thee rumps to tire upon.  
Well wanton well, if you were wise in deed  
You would regard the fist whereon you feed.  
You would the Horse devouring Crow refuse,  
And gorge yourself with flesh more fine to choose.  
I wish thee this for wonted old good will  
To fly more high, for fear the stowping will  
Breed him, that now doth keep thee, out of love  
And think his Falcon will a Buzzard prove.  
Which if he deem, or do suspect at all,  
He will abate thy flesh, and make thee fall.  
So that of force thou shalt enforced be  
Too do by him as now thou dost by me:  
That is to leave the Keeper, and away,  
Falcon take heed, for this is true I say.   

The Lover to his Lady that gafed much up to the Skies.  
MY Girl, thou gazest much  
upon the golden Skies:  
Would I were Heaven, I would behold  
thee then with all mine eyes.   

The Penitent Lover utterly renouncing love, craves pardon of forefassed follies.  
IF such as did amiss  
and ran their race awry,  
May boldly crave at judges hand  
some mercy ere they die,  
And pardon for their gilt  
that wilfully transgressed,  
And saw the bounds before their eyes  
that virtue had addressed:  
Then I that broke the banks  
which Reason had assigned  
To such as would pursue her train,  
may stand in hope to find  
Some favour at her hand:  
since blind forecast was cause,  
And not my wilful will in fault  
that I have swerude her laws.  
Misguided have I been  
and trained all by trust,  
And Love was forger of the fraud,  
and furtherer of my lust.  
Whose vele did daze mine eyes,  
and darkened so my sight  
With errors foggy mist at first,  
that Reason gave no light.  
And as those woeful Wights  
that sail on swelling Seas,  
When winds and wrathful waves conspire  
to banish all their ease,  
When heavenly Lamps are hid  
from Shipmens' hungry eyes,  
And Lodestarres are in covert kept  
within the cloudy Skies:  
As they without respect  
do follow Fortune's lore,  
And run at random in the flood  
where Aeols Imps do roar,  
Till golden crested Phebe,  
or else his Sister's light,  
Have chased away those noisome clouds,  
and put the same to flight:  
So I (unhappy man)  
have followed Love a space,  
And felt the hottest of his flame,  
and flashing fiery blaze.  
In darkness have I dwelled,  
and Errors ugly shade,  
Unwitting how to raise a Star  
from peril to cuade.  
Few days came on my head  
wherein was cause of joy,  
But day and night were ready both  
to hasten mine annoy.  
Short were my sleeps (God wots)  
most dreadful were my dreams,  
Mine eyes (as Conduits of the heart)  
did gush out saltish streams.  
Tormented was my Corpse,  
my mind was never free,  
But both replete with anguish aye  
disseverde sought to be.  
No place might like me long,  
no pleasure could endure,  
In stead of sport was smart at hand,  
for pastime pain in ure.  
A Bondman to myself,  
yet free in others sight,  
Not able to resist the rage  
of winged Archers might.  
Thus have I spent my time  
in servage as a Thrall,  
Till Reason of her bounty list  
me to her mercy call.  
Now have I made return,  
and by good hap retired  
From Cupid's Camp and deep Despair:  
and once again aspired  
To Lady Reasons stawle  
where wisdom throned is,  
On promise of amends released  
is all that was amiss.  
To Plato now I fly,  
and Senecs' sound advice:  
A Fatch for Love, I force not now  
what Chance fall on the Dice.   

To his Friend that refused him without cause why but only upon delight of change.  
YOu show yourself to be  
a Woman right by kind:  
You like and then mislike again  
where you no cause do find.  
I can not think that love  
was planted in your breast,  
As did your flattering looks declare,  
and perjured tongue protest.  
Thou swarste alone that I  
thy fancy did subdue,  
Then why should frenzy force thee now  
to show thyself untrue?  
Fie faithless woman fie,  
wilt thou condemn the kind  
Because of just report of ill  
and blot of wavering mind?  
Too plain it now appears  
that lust procured thy love,  
Or else it would not so decay  
and causeless thus remove.  
I thought that I at first  
a Lucrece had subdued,  
But now I find that fancy fond  
my senses did delude  
I deemed that I had got  
a Falcon to the fist,  
Whom I might quickly have reclaimed,  
but I my purpose mist.  
For (oh) the worse hap  
my Falcon is so free,  
As down she stoops to strangers lure  
and forceth least of me.  
Good shape was ill bestowed  
upon so vile a Kite,  
That Haggard wise doth love to live  
and doth in change delight.  
Yield me thy flaunting Hood,  
shake off those Bells of thine,  
Such checking Bussards ill deserve  
or Bell or Hood so fine.  
With Fowls of base sort  
how can you brook too fly,  
That erst your Nature did to Hawks  
of stately kind apply?  
If want of pray enforced  
this change thou art too blame:  
For I had ever trains in store  
to make my Falcon game.  
I had a Tassel eke  
full gentle by his kind,  
Too fly with thee in use of wing  
the greater joy to find.  
No, doubtless wanton lust  
and fleshly fowl desire  
Did make thee loathe my friendly lure,  
and set thy heart on fire  
Too try what metal was  
in Bussards to be found  
This, this was it that made thee stoop  
from lofty gate to ground.  
Wherefore if ever luck  
do let me light on thee,  
And Fortune grant me once again  
thy keeper for to be:  
Thy diet shall be such,  
thy tiring rumps so bare,  
As thou shalt know thy keeper well,  
and for none other care.  
Meanwhile on carrion feed,  
thy hungry gorge to glut:  
That all thy lust in daily change  
and diet new dost put.  
Diseases must of force  
such feeding fowl ensue:  
No force to me, thou wert my Bird,  
But (Falcon) now adieu.   

To one that upon surmise of adversity, forewent her Friend.  
AS too the white, and lately limed house  
The Doves do flock in hope of better fare,  
And leave their home of culver's clean and bare:  
As to the Kitchen posts the peeping Mouse  
Where Victuals fine and curious Cates are dressed,  
And shuns the shop where livelihood waxeth thin,  
Where he before had filled his empty skin,  
And where he chose him first to be a guest:  
As lice unto the living Carcase clean,  
But baulk the same made ready to the Bear,  
So you that erst my Friend to seeming wear,  
In happy state: your needy Friend do leave.  
Unfriendly are those other, Dove and Mouse  
That do refuse old harbour for a new  
And make exchange for lodge they never knew,  
Unfriendly eke the slow and lumpish Louse.  
But more uncivil you that witty are  
To judge a Friend, your Friendship to forego,  
Without a cause and make exchanges so:  
For friends are needed most in time of war.  
Put case that Chance withdrew her old good will  
And frowned on me to whom she was a friend?  
Is that a reason why your love should end?  
No, no, you should a friend continue still.  
For true good will in misery is tried,  
For then will none but faithful friends abide.   

To Master Googes fancy that gins Give Money me take friendship who so list.  
FRiend Googe, give me the faithful friend to trust,  
And take the fickle Coin for me that lust.  
For Friends in time of trouble and distress  
With help and sound advise will soon redress  
Each growing grief that gripes the pensive breast,  
When Money lies locked up in covert Chest.  
Thy Coin will cause a thousand cares to grow,  
Which if thou hadst no Coin thou couldst not know,  
Thy Friend no care but comfort will procure,  
Of him thou mayst at need thyself assure.  
Thy Money makes the Thief in wait to lie,  
Whose fraud thy Friend & falsehood will descry.  
Thou canst not keep unlocked thy careful Coin,  
But some from thee thy Money will purloin:  
Thy faithful Friend will never start aside,  
But take his share of all that shall beride.  
When thou art dead thy Money is bereft  
But after life thy trusty Friend is left:  
Thy Money serves another Master than,  
Thy faithful Friend links with none other man.  
So that (Friend Googe) I deem it better I,  
To choose the Friend and let the Money lie.   

The Lover abused renownceth love.  
FOr to revoke to pensive thought  
And troubled head my former plight,  
How I by earnest suit have sought  
And griefful pains a loving Wight  
For to accoy, accoy,  
And breed my joy  
Without annoy, makes saltish brine  
To flush out of my vapord eyen.  
¶ To think upon the sundry snares  
And privy Panthers that were led  
To forge my daily doleful cares,  
Whereby my hoped pleasures fled,  
Doth plague my heart, my heart,  
With deadly smart,  
Without desert, that have endured  
Such woes, and am not yet recured,  
¶ Was never day came on my head  
Wherein I did not sue for grace,  
Was never night but I in bed  
Unto my Pillow told my case,  
Bayning my breast, my breast,  
For want of rest,  
With tears oppressed, yet remedy none  
Was to be found for all my moan.  
¶ If she had dained my good will  
And recompensed me with her Love,  
I would have been her Vassell still,  
And never once my heart remove:  
I did pretend, pretend,  
To be her Friend  
Unto the end, but she refused  
My loving heart, and me abused.  
¶ I did not force upon the spite  
And venomous stings of hissing Snakes,  
I weighed not their words a Mite,  
That such a do at Lovers makes:  
I did rejoice, rejoice,  
To have the voice  
Of such a choice, and smiled to see  
That they reported so of me.  
¶ Oh me most lucky Wight (quoth I)  
At whom the people so repine,  
I trust the rumour that doth fly  
Will force her to my will incline,  
And like well me, well me  
Whom she doth see,  
Her love to be, unfeignedly,  
In whom she may full well affy.  
¶ But now at length I plainly view  
That woman never gave her breast,  
For they by kindly course will rue  
On such as seem to love them best:  
And will relent, relent  
And be content,  
When nought is meant, save friendly heart  
And love for never to departed.  
¶ Some cruel Tiger lent her Te●  
And fostered her with savage Pap,  
That can not find in heart to let  
A man to love her, since his hap  
Hath so assigned, assigned  
To have his mind  
To love inclined, in honest wise  
Whom she should not of right despise.  
¶ But since I see her stony heart  
Cannot be pierced with pities Lance,  
Since nought is gained but woeful smart,  
I do intend to break the dance,  
And quite forego, forego  
My pleasant Foe,  
That pains me so, and thinks in fine  
To make me like to Circe's Swine:  
¶ I clean defy her flattering face,  
I quite abhor her luring looks:  
As long as jove shall give me grace  
She never comes within my books,  
I do detest, detest  
So false a Guest  
That breeds unrest, where she should plant  
Her love, if pity did not want.  
¶ Let her go seek some other Fool,  
Let her enrage some other Dolt:  
I have been taught in Plato's School  
From Cupid's Banner to revolt:  
And to forsake, forsake  
As fearful Snake,  
Such as do make, a man but smart  
For bearing them a faithful heart.   

The forsaken Lover laments that his Lady is matched with an other.  
AS Menelaus did lament  
When Helena to Troy went,  
And to the Teucrian Guest applied  
And all her Country Friends defied:  
Even so I feel tormenting pain  
To lurk in erie little vain,  
And ransack all my Corpse, to see  
That she hath now forsaken me,  
The faithful Friend that she could find:  
But fickle Dames will to their kind.  
A simple change in faith it was  
To leave the Lion for the Ass,  
Such chopping will but make you bare  
And spend your life in carek and care,  
You might have taken better heed  
Than left the Grain, and chose the weed:  
Your Harvest would the better been  
If you had to your Bargin seen,  
But to recant it is to late,  
Go too, a God's name to your Mate,  
Tis Muck that makes the Pot to play  
As men of old were wont to say,  
And women marry for the gain  
Though oft it fall out to their pain:  
And as I guess thou hast ydoon  
When all thy twist is thoroughly spoon,  
It will appear unto thy foes,  
Thou pluckst a Nettle for a Rose:  
In faith thy Friend would loath to see  
Thy cursed luck so ill to be.   

Of one that was in reversion.  
ANother hath that I did buy,  
and I enjoy that he embraced:  
I reap the Grain, and pluck the Pear,  
but he had Pear and Corn at last.  
Which sithence Fortune hath allowed,  
let either well contented be:  
I hate him not for his delights,  
then let him do the like to me.  
For sow both be pleased, I say,  
this bargain was devised well:  
Let him with present good delight  
as I what time to me it fell.  
If ever he by hap forego,  
I trust my hope is not in vain,  
I hope the thing I once enjoyed  
will to his owner come again.  
Which if be so, then happy I  
that had the first, and have the last:  
What better fortune may there be  
than in Reversion to be placed.   

That all hurts and losses are to be recovered and recured save the cruel wound of love.  
THe Surgeon may devise  
a Salve for erie sore,  
And to recure all inward griefs  
Physicians have in store  
Their Simples to compownde  
and match in mixture so,  
As each disease from sickly Corpse  
they can enforce to go.  
The wasteful wrack of wealth  
that Merchants do sustain,  
By happy vent of gotten wares  
may be supplied again.  
A Town by treason lost,  
a Fort by falsehood won,  
By manly fight is got again  
and help of hurtful Goon.  
Thus each thing hath redress  
and sweet recure again:  
Save only Love, that farther frets,  
and feeds on inward pain.  
No Galen may this grief  
by Physics force expel:  
No Reason's rule may aught prevail  
where lurking Love doth dwell.  
The Patient hath no power  
of wholesome things to taste:  
No Drench, no Drug, nor Sirop sweet  
his hidden harm may waste.  
No comfort comes by day,  
no pleasant sleep by night:  
No needful nap at Noon may ease  
the lovers painful plight.  
In deep despair he dwells  
till in comes hope of ease,  
Which somewhat lessens pains of Love,  
and calms the surge of Seas.  
His head is fraught with thoughts,  
his heart with throws replete:  
His eyes amazed, his quaking hand,  
his stomach loathing meat.  
This bale the Lover bides  
and hateful Hag of Hell,  
And yet himself doth deem that he  
in Paradise doth dwell.   

Of the choice of his Valentine.  
WIth others I to choose a Valentine  
Addressed myself: Each had his dearest friend  
In Scroll ywrit, among the rest was mine.  
See now the luck by lot that Chance doth send  
To Cupid's crew, mark Fortune how it falls,  
And mark how Venus Imps are fortune's thralls.  
The Papers were in covert kept from sight,  
In hope I went to note what hap would fall:  
I chose, but on my Friend I could not light,  
(Such was the Goddess will that wilds the Ball)  
But see good luck, although I missed the same,  
I happed on one that bore my Lady's name.  
Unequal though their beauties were to look,  
Remembrance yet of her well feauturde fare  
So often seen, thereby my Senses took,  
Unhappy though she were not then in place:  
Long you to learn what name my Lady hight?  
Account from V to. A. and spell aright.   

Of an open Foe and a feigned Friend.  
NOt he so much annoys  
that says: I am thy Foe,  
As he that bears a hateful heart,  
and is a Friend to sho.  
Of tone we may beware,  
and fly his open hate,  
But other bites before he bark,  
a hard avoided Mate.   

Again.  
OF both give me the man  
that says, I hate in deed:  
Than him that hath a Knife to kill,  
yet wears a friendly weed.   

Of a Rich Miser.  
A Miser's mind thou hast,  
thou hast a Prince's pelf:  
Which makes thee wealthy to thine Heir,  
a Beggar to thyself.   

Of a Painter that painted Favour.  
THou (Painter fond) what means this mad devise  
Favour to draw? sith uncouth is the head  
From whence it comes, and first of all was bred?  
Some deem that it of Beauty doth arise,  
Dame Fortune's Baby and undoubted Son,  
Some other do surmise this Favour was:  
Again, some think by Chance it came to pass,  
Another says of Virtue it begun.  
What Mate is he that daily is at hand? 
Quest   
Fair speaking he and glozing Flattery hight. 
Auns.   
What he that slowly comes behind? Auns. Despite. 
Quest   
What they (I pray) that him environ stand? 
Quest   
Wealth, Honour, Pride, and Noble needful Laws. 
Auns.   
And leading Lust that drives to thousand ills.  
What mean those wings, & painted quivering Quills? 
Quest   
'Cause upward aye Dame Fortune Favour draws. 
Auns.   
Why blind is Favour made? 
Quest  (Auns.) for cause that he  
That is unthrifty once yplast amownt  
From base step not had in any cownt  
Can not discern his Friends, or who they be.  
Why treads he on the tickle turning wheel? 
Quest   
He follows Fortune's steps and giddy Gate 
Auns.   
Unstaid Chances aye unsteadfast Mate:  
And when that things are well, can never feel.  
Then tell me one thing else to pease my mind  
My last demand. what means his swelling so? 
Quest   
How chanced that Favour doth so proudly go? 
Auns.   
Good haps by course us Men do maken blind.   

The Lover whose Lady dwelled fast by a Prison.  
ONe day I hide me fast unto the place  
where lodged my Love, a passing proper dame  
For head, hand, leg, limb, wealth, wit, comely grace:  
And being there my suit I 'gan to frame,  
The smoky sighs bewrayed my fiery flame.  
But cruel she, disdainful, coy and cursed,  
Forced not my words, but quailed her Friend at furst.  
Whereat I looked me up a woeful Wight,  
And threw mine eyes up to the painted Sky,  
In mind to wail my hap: And saw in sight  
Not far from thence a place where Prisoners lie,  
For crimes forepast the after pains to try:  
A Labyrinth, a loathsome Lodge to dwell,  
A Dungeon deep, a Damp as dark as Hell.  
Oh happy you (quoth I) that feel the force  
Of girding give, thirst, cold and stony bed,  
Respect of me, whose love hath no remorse:  
In death you live, but I in life and ded,  
Your joy is yet to come, my pleasure fled.  
In prison you have minds at freedom aye,  
I free am thrall, whose love seeks his decay.  
Unworthy you to live in such distress  
Whose former faults repentance did bewail:  
Moore fit were this Lady merciless  
At grate to stand, with whom no tears prevail:  
More worthy she to live in loathsome gail  
That murders such as sue to her for life,  
And spoils her faithful Friends with spiteful knife.   

Complaint of the long absence of his Love upon the first acquaintance.  
O Cursed, cruel, cankered Chance,  
O Fortune full of spite,  
Why hast thou so on sudden rest  
from me my chief delight?  
What glory shalt thou gain perdie  
or purchase by the rage?  
This is no Conquest to be called,  
wherefore thy wrath assuage.  
To soon eclipsed was my joy,  
my dolours grow to fast:  
For want of her that is my life,  
my life it can not last.  
Is this thy fickle kind so soon  
to hoist a man to joy,  
And ere he touch the top of bliss  
to breed him such annoy?  
Now do I plain perceive and see  
that Poets feign not all,  
For churlish Chance is counted blind  
and full of filthy Gall.  
I thought there had been no such Dame  
ne Goddess on a wheel:  
But now too well I know her kind,  
too soon her force I feel.  
And that which doth augment my smart  
and maketh more my woe,  
Is, for I felt a sudden joy  
where now this grief doth grow.  
If thou hadst meant (unhappy Hap)  
thus to have nipped my joy,  
Why didst thou show a smile cheer  
that shouldst have looked acoy?  
For griefs do nothing grudge at all  
but where was bliss before:  
None wails the want of wealth so much  
as he that had the store.  
Not he that never saw the Sun  
complains for lack of light,  
But such as saw his golden gleams  
and knew his cheerful might.  
Too late I learn through spiteful chance  
that joy is mixed with woe,  
And each good hap hath hate in hoard,  
the course of things is so.  
So Poison lurcks in Sugar sweet,  
the Hook so hides the bait:  
Even so in green and pleasant grass  
the Serpent lies in wait.  
Ulysses' wife I learn at last  
thy sorrow and distress,  
In absence of thy lingering Love,  
that should thy woes redress.  
Great was your grief (ye Greekish Girlles)  
whilst stately Troy stood,  
And kept your husbands from your laps  
in peril of their blood.  
All ye therefore that have assayed  
what torments lack procures  
Of that you love, lament my lack  
which overlong endures.  
Ye Winds transport my soaking sighs  
to my new chosen Friend,  
So may my sorrow suage perhaps  
and dréerie state have end.  
Ye Sighs make true report of tears,  
that so beraine my breast,  
As Helen's husbands never were  
for treason of his Guest.  
If thou (my Letter) mayst attain  
the place of her abode,  
Do thou, as Herald of the heart,  
my sorrows quite unload.  
In thee as in a Myrronr clear  
or Crystal may she view  
My pangs, my pains, my sighs and tears  
which Tigers could but rue.  
There shall she see my secret parts  
encumbered all with moan,  
My fainting limbs, my vapord eyen  
with heart as cold as stone.  
I know she can but rue my case  
when thou presents my suit,  
Wherefore play thou thy part so well  
that I may reap the fruit.  
And if (when she hath read thee through)  
she place thee in her lap,  
Then change thy cheer thy Master hath  
his long desired hap.   

The venturous Lover after long absence craves his Lady to meet with him in place to enterparle of her adventures.  
IF so Leander durst  
from Abydon to Sest  
To swim to Herô whom he chose  
his Friend above the rest,  
And gauge his comely corpse  
unto the sousing Tide  
To lay his water beaten limbs  
fast by her tender side:  
Then I (my Dear) whose gleams  
and ardour doth surpass  
The scorching flame and blazing heat  
that in Leander was,  
May well presume to take  
the greatest toil in hand,  
To reach the place where thou dost lodge  
the chief of Venus' band.  
For not Leander's love  
my friendship doth excel,  
Nor Herô may compare with her  
that bears Dame Beauties Bell.  
There resteth nought for thee  
but to assign the place,  
The merry day, the joyful hour  
when I may see thy face:  
Appoint the certain Tide  
and fixed stem of stay,  
And thou shalt see thy faithful Friend  
will quickly come his way  
Not dréeding any doubt:  
but ventrously will go  
Through thick and thin to gain a glimpse  
of thee his sugared foe.  
Where when by hap we meet,  
our long endured woes  
Shall stint by force of friendly thoughts  
which we shall then discloes.  
Then either may unfold  
the secrets of the heart,  
And show how long dislodge hath bred  
our cruel cutting smart.  
Then may we freely chat  
of all forepast toys,  
And put those pensive pangs to flight  
with new recourse of joys.  
Then pleasure shall possess  
the lodge were Dolour lay,  
And merry blincks put clouds of care  
and lowering looks away.  
Then kissing may be plied  
and clipping put in ure,  
And lingered sores by Cupid's salves  
aspire to quick recure.  
Oh dread thou not at all,  
set woman's fear a part  
And take the courage of a man,  
that hast a manly heart  
In hostage aye with thee  
to use at thy devise.  
In all affairs and needful hours  
as matter shall arise.  
Revoke to loving mind  
how venturous Thisbe met  
In fearful night with Pyramus  
where Nynus Tomb was set.  
So hazard thou to come  
unto the pointed place,  
To thwart thy Friend, and meet with him  
that longs to see thy face.  
Who better will attend  
thy friendly coming there,  
Than Pyramus of Thysbe did  
his disappointed Féere.  
For (oh) their meeting was  
the reaver of their breath,  
The crop of endless care, and cause  
of either lovers death.  
But we so warily will  
our fixed time attend,  
As no mishap shall grow thereby.  
And thus I make an end  
With wishing well to thee,  
and hope to meet in place  
To enterparle with thee (my Friend)  
and tell my doleful case.   

To Master Googe his Sonnet out of sight out of thought.  
THe less I see, the more my teen,  
The more my teen the greater grief  
The greater grief, the lesser seen,  
The lesser seen, the less relief:  
The less relief the heavier sprite,  
When P. is farthest out of sight.  
The rarer seen, the rifer sobs,  
The rifer sobs, the sadder heart,  
The sadder heart, the greater throbs,  
The greater throbs, the worse smart,  
The worse smart proceeds of this  
That I my P. so often miss.  
The nearer too, the more I smile,  
The more I smile, the merrier mind:  
The merry mind doth thought exile,  
And thought exiled recourse I find  
Of heavenly joys: all this delight  
Have I when P. is once in fight.   

The Lover whose Mistress feared a Mouse, declareth that he would become a Cat, if he might have his desire.  
IF I might alter kind,  
what think you I would be,  
Nor Fish, nor Fowl, nor flee, nor Frog,  
nor Squirrel on the Tree.  
The Fish the hook, the Fowl  
the limed twig doth catch,  
The flee the Finger, and the Frog  
the Buffard doth dipatch.  
The Squirrel thinking nought  
that featly cracks the Nut,  
The greedy Gashauke wanting pray  
in dread of death doth put.  
¶ But scorning all these kinds  
I would become a Cat,  
To combat with the creeping Mouse  
and scratch the scréeking Rat.  
I would be present aye  
and at my Ladies call,  
To guard her from the fearful Mouse  
in Parlour and in Hall.  
In Kitchen for his life  
he should not show his head,  
The Pear in Poke should lie untouched  
when she were gone to bed.  
The Mouse should stand in fear,  
so should the squeaking Rat:  
All this would I do if I were  
converted to a Cat.   

The Lover driven to absent him from his Lady, bawayles his estate.  
WHen angry Greeks with Troyans' fought  
In mind to sack their wealthy Town,  
King Agamemnon needful thought  
To beat the neighbour Cities down,  
And by his Princely power to quell  
Such as by Priam's Realm did dwell.  
Thus forth he travailed with his train  
Till he unto Lyrnessus came,  
Where cruel fight he did maintain,  
And five such Wights as were of fame:  
Down went the walls and all to wrack  
And so was Lyrnes brought to sack.  
Two Noble Dames of passing shape  
Unto the Prince were brought in fine  
That might compare with Paris rape,  
Their glimmering beauties so did shine:  
The Prince chose fairest of the twain,  
And Achyll other for his pain.  
And thus the warlike Chieftains lived  
Each with his Lady in delight:  
Till Agamemnon was deprived  
Of her that golden Chryses hight.  
For Gods did will as (Poets feign)  
That he should yield her up again.  
Which done, he reft Achilles Mate  
To serve in Chrysis place at need,  
Not forcing on the fowl debate  
That followed of that cruel deed:  
For why Achilles grutged fore  
To lose the Lass he won before.  
And what for grief and great disdain  
The Greek his Helmet hung aside,  
And Sword that many a Knight had slain,  
And Shield that Trojan Darts had tried:  
Refusing to approach the place  
Where he was wont his foes to chase.  
His manly courage was appallde  
His valiant heart began to yield,  
His brawned arms that erst were gallde  
With clattering Armour in the field  
Had lost their force, his fist did faint,  
His gladsome songs were grown to plaint.  
His mouth refused his wonted food,  
His tongue could feel no taste of meat,  
His hanging cheeks declared his mood,  
His filtered beard with hair unset,  
Bewrayed his sudden change of cheer  
For losing of his loving Fear.  
His ears but sorrows sound could hear,  
The Trumpets tune was quite forgot,  
His eyes were fraught with many a tear,  
Whom carcking care permitted not  
The pleasant slumber to retain  
To quite the silly Miser's pain.  
The thousand part of pensive care  
The Noble Greek endured then  
In Bryseis absence, to declare  
It far surmounts the Wit of man:  
But sure a Martyr right he lived  
Of Bryseis beauty once beriude.  
If thus Achilles valiant heart  
Were wrapped in web of wailful woe,  
That was enured too dint of Dart  
His loving Bryseis to forego.  
If thus the sturdy Greek (I say)  
Bewailed the night and wept the day:  
Then blame not me a loving Wight  
Whom Nature made to Cupid's Bow  
To live in such a piteous plight,  
Bewasht with waves of worser woe  
Than ever was the Greekish Peer  
Despoiled of his Darling dear.  
For I of force am feign to flee  
The press, the presence and the place  
Of you my Love a braver B  
Than Bryseis was for foot and face,  
For Head, for Hand, for Carcase eke  
Not to be matched of any Greek.  
Whose troth you have full often tried,  
Whose heart hath been unfolded quite  
Whose faith by friendship was descried  
Whose joy consisted in your sight,  
Whose pain was pleasure if in place  
He might but gaze upon thy face.  
O doleful Greek I would I might  
Exchange my trouble for thy pain,  
For than I hope I should acquit  
My grief with gladsome joys again:  
For Bryseis made return to thee,  
Would B. might do the like to me.  
But to exchange my Love for thine,  
Or B. for Bryseis I ne would:  
To labour in the Leaden Mine.  
And leave the ground where grows the Gold  
I mind it not, it folly were  
To choose the pare, and leave the Pear.   

That Lovers ought rather at first acquaintance to show their meanings by Pen then by Mouth.  
IF all that feel the fits of love  
And flanckring sparks of Cupid's fire,  
By tattling tongues should say to move  
Their Ladies to their fond desire:  
No doubt a number would but gain  
A badge of Folly for their pain.  
For Ladies either would suspect  
Those sugared words so sweet to ear  
With secret poisons bait infect:  
Or else would wisely stand in fear,  
That all such flame as so did burn  
To dusty Cinders soon would turn.  
For he that bluntly doth presume  
On small acquaintance to display  
His hidden fire by casting fume  
Of wanton words, doth miss the way  
To win the Wight he honours so,  
For of a Friend he makes a Fo.  
For who is she that may endure  
The dapper terms that lovers use?  
And painted Proems to procure  
The Modest Matron's mind to muse?  
No, first let writings go to tell  
Your Ladies that you love them well.  
And when that time hath trial made  
Of perfit love and faithful breast,  
Then boldly may you further wade  
This counsel I account the best:  
And this (my Dear) procured my Quill  
To write, and tongue to be so still.  
Which now at first shall flatly show  
(As faithful Herald of the heart  
The perfit love to thee I own  
That breedst my joy, and wilt my smart,  
Unless at last (Remembrance) rue  
Upon her (Thought) that will be true.  
Wherefore I say, go slender scroll  
To her the silly Mouse that shonnes,  
Salute in friendly sort the soul  
Among those pretty beasts that wonnes,  
That bitten the Pocat for the Pear,  
And bred the soul to such a fear.   

¶ An Epitaph of Master Win drowned in the Sea.  
WHo so thou art that passest by this place  
And run'st at random on the slipper way,  
Recline thy listening ear to me a space  
Do stay thy ship & hearken what I say:  
Cast Anchor here until my tale be done,  
So mayst thou chance the like mishaps to shun.  
Learn this of me, that men do live to die  
And Death decays the worthiest Wights of all,  
No worldly wealth or kingdoms can supply  
Or guard their Princes from the fatal fall:  
One way to come unto this life we see,  
But to be rid thereof a thousand be.  
My gallant youth and frolic years behight  
Me longer age, and silver hairs to have,  
I thought my day would never come to night,  
My prime provoked me to forget my grave:  
I thought by water to have scaped the death  
That now amid the Seas do lose my breath.  
Now, now the churlish channel me doth check  
Now surging Seas conspire to breed my cark  
Now fight floods enforce me to the rock,  
Charybdis Whelps and Scylla's Dogs do bark  
Now hope of life is past, now, now I see  
That W. can no more a lives man be.  
Yet I do well affy for my desert  
(When cruel death hath done the worst it may)  
Of well renowned Fame to have a part  
To save my name from ruin and decay:  
And that is all that thou or I may gain,  
And so adieu, I thank thee for thy pain.   

Again.  
O Neptune churlish Chuff, O wayward Wolf  
O God of Seas by name, no God in deed,  
O Tyrant, Ruler of the gravel Goolfe  
Where greater Fish on lesser Spawn doth feed  
Why didst thou drench with deadly Mace a Wight  
That well deserved to run his course aright?  
O cruel cursed Tide, O weltering Wave  
That W. wrought this detestable care,  
O wrathful surge, why wouldst y● not vouchsafe  
A mid thy rage so good a youth to spare,  
And suffer him in lucky Bark to reach  
The pleasant port of ease and blissful beach?  
But what though surging Seas & tossing Tide  
Have done their worst and uttered all their force  
In working W. wrack, that so hath tried  
The cruelest rage that might befall his Corpse:  
Yet natheless his ever during name  
Is fast ingraude within the house of Fame.  
Let Fishes feed upon his flesh apace,  
Let crawling Cungers creep about his bones,  
Let Worms awake and with: Carcase race  
For why it was appointed for the nonce:  
But when they have done all the spite they can  
His good report shall live in mouth of man.  
Instead of stony Tomb and Marble Grave  
In am of a lamentable Verse,  
Let W. on the sandy Cheasell have  
This doleful rhyme in stead of better Hierse:  
Lo, here among the Worms doth W. won  
That well deserved a farther race to run.  
But since his fate allotted him to fall  
Amid the sousing Seas and troublous Tide,  
Let not his death his faithful Friends appall  
For he is not the first that so hath died,  
Nor shall be seen the last: As nigh away  
To Heaven by waters as by Land they say.   

Praise of his love.  
Appelles' lay the Pencil down  
and shun thy wonted skill,  
Let brute no more with flattering Trump  
the Greekish ears fulfil:  
Claim not to thee such Painter's praise  
as thou hast done of yore,  
Lest thou in fine be foiled flat  
and gained glory lore.  
So seek not to disgrace the Greeks  
thy loving Native land,  
But rather from depainting forms  
withdraw thy skillest hand.  
For so thou stiffly stand and vaunt  
that thou wilt frame her like  
Whom I extol above the Stars,  
thou art a stately Greek.  
As soon with might thou mayst remove  
the Rock from whence it grows,  
As frame her featured form in whom  
such floods of graces flows.  
If I might speak unhurt of hate,  
I would avaunt that kind  
In spite of Rose and Lily both  
had her in earth assigned  
To dwell among the dainty Dames  
that she hath placed here:  
Cause, by her passing feature might  
Dame Nature's skill appear.  
Her Hair surmounts Apollo's pride  
in it such beauty rains  
Her glistering eyes the Crystal far  
and finest sapphire stains  
A little Mouth with decent Chin,  
a Coral Lip of hue,  
With teeth as white as Whale his bone  
each one in order due.  
A body blameless to be found,  
Arms rated to the same:  
Such Hands with Azure decked, as all  
that war with her do shame.  
As for the parts in covert kept  
and what is not in sight,  
I do esteem them by the rest  
not forcing on despite.  
If I were foreman of the Quest  
my verdict to express,  
Forgive me (Phoebus,) of thy place  
she should thee dispossess.  
P: should be raised to the clouds  
and Phoebus brought allow,  
For that there should live none in earth  
but might her virtue know.  
Thus to conclude and make an end,  
to vouch I dare behold:  
As soon as Nature her had made  
all Nature's ware was sold.   

The complaint of a Friend of his having lost his Dove.  
WHat should I shed my tears to show mine inward pain  
Since that the jewel I have lost may not be had again.  
Yet bootless though it be to utter covert smart  
It is a mean to cure the grief, and make a joyful heart.  
Wherefore I say to you that have enjoyed your Love,  
Lament with me in woeful wise for losing of my Dove.  
You Turtle Cocks that are your loving Honnes bereft,  
And do bewail your cruel chance that you alive are left:  
Come hither, come I say, come high in haste to me,  
Let either make his doleful plaint amid this dreary tree.  
A fit place than this may no where else be found  
For friendly Echo here will cause each cry to yield a sound.  
In youth it was my luck on such a Dove to light,  
As by good nature won my love, she was my whole delight  
A fresher fowl than mine for shape and beauty's hue,  
Was never any man on earth that had the hap to view.  
Dame Nature her had framed so perfit in her kind  
As not the spiteful man himself one fault in her could find.  
Her eye so passing pure, her beak so brave and fit,  
The stature of her limbs so small, her head so full of wit,  
Her neck of so good fyse, her plume of colour white,  
Her legs & feet so finely made, though seldom seen in sight:  
Each part so fitly pight as none mought change his place.  
Nor any Bird could lightly have so good & brave a grace.  
But most of all that I did fancy, was her voice,  
For sweet it was unto mine care, & made the heart rejoice.  
No sooner could I come in place where she was set,  
But up she rose, and joyful would her Make & lover met.  
About my tender neck she would have clasped tho,  
And laid her beak betwixt my lips, sweet kisses to besto.  
And ought besides that mought have pleasured me at all,  
was never man that had a bird so fit to play withal.  
when I for joy did sing, she would have song with me,  
when I was woe, my grief was hers, she would not pleasant be  
But (oh) amid my joys came cruel cankered Death.  
And spiting at my pleasures rest my loving bird her breath  
who finding me alack, and absent on a day,  
Caught bow in hand, & strak her down, a breeding as she lay  
Since I have cause to wail the death of such a Dove.  
(Good Turtles) help me to lament the loss of my true love.  
The Tree whereon she sat shall be the place where I  
will sing my last, & end my life: for (Turtles) I must die.  
you know it is our kind, we can not live alone,  
More pleasant is the death to us then life when love is gone  
To tell a farther tale my fainting breath denies,  
And self same death the slew my Dove, gins to close mine eyes.   

That Lovers ought to shun no pains to attain their love.  
IF Merchants in their warped Keales  
commit themselves to Wave,  
And dreadful danger of the Gulf  
in tempest that doth rave,  
To set from far and Foreign lands  
such ware as is to sell,  
And is not in their Native soil  
where they themselves do dwell:  
If Soldiers serve in perils place  
and dread of Cannon shot,  
Each day in danger of their lives  
and Country loss God wots,  
Whose Music is the dreadful Drum  
and doleful Trumpets sound,  
Who have in stead of better bed  
the cold and stony ground,  
And all tattaine the spoil with speed  
of such as do withstand,  
Which slender is sometime we see  
when so it comes to hand:  
If they for Lucre light sustain  
such peril as ensues,  
Then those that serve the Lord of Love  
no travail ought refuse:  
But lavish of their lively breath  
all tempest to abide,  
To maintain Love and all his laws  
what Fortune so betide.  
And not to shrink at erie shower  
or stormy flaw that lights,  
Ne yet to yield themselves as thrall  
to such as with them fights.  
Such are not fit for Cupid's Camp,  
they ought no wages win  
Which faint before the clang of Trump  
or Battles broil begin.  
They must not make account of hurt,  
for Cupid hath in store  
Continually within his Camp  
a salve for erie sore.  
Their Ensign bearer is so stout  
ecleaped Hope by name,  
As if they follow his advise  
each thing shall be in frame.  
But if for want of courage stout  
the Banner be bereft,  
If Hope by hap be stricken down,  
and no good hope yleft:  
Tis time with Trump to blow retreat,  
the Field must needs be won:  
So Cupid once be Captive ta'en  
his Soldiers are undone.  
Wherefore, what so they are that Love  
as waged men do serve:  
Must shun no danger drift at all  
ne from no peril swerver.  
Keep watch and ward the wakeful night  
and never yield to rest.  
For fear lest thou a waiting nought  
on sudden be oppressed.  
Though hunger gripe thy empty Maw  
endure it for a while,  
Till time do serve with good repast  
such famine to beguile.  
Be not with chilly cold dismayed,  
let Snow nor Ise procure  
Thy lustful limbs from painful plight  
thy Lady to allure.  
That is the spoil that Cupid gives  
that is the only wight  
Where at his Thralls are wont to rove  
with Arrows from their sight.  
Myself as one among the more,  
shall never spare to spend  
My life, my limbs, yea heart and all  
loves quarrel to defend.  
And so in recompense of pains  
and toil of perils past,  
He yield me but my Lady's love:  
I will not be aghast,  
Of Fortune, nor her frowning face,  
I nought shall force her cheer,  
But tend on erie turn on her  
that is my loving fear.   

A request of Friendship to Vulcan's Wife made my Mars.  
THough froward Fortune would that you who are  
So brave a Dame, which Vulcan shoulden link:  
Yet may you love the lusty God of war,  
And blear his eyes that no such fraud will think.  
Tis Cupid's charge, and all the Gods agree,  
That you be Féere to him, and Friend to me.   

The Lover that had loved Long without requitald of good will.  
LOng did I love, and liked her passing well  
Whose beauty bred the thraldom of my thought,  
Long did I sue to her for to expel  
The foul disdain that beauty's beams had wrought:  
Long did I serve, and Long I would have done,  
My mind was bend a thorough race to run.  
Long when I had looude, sued, and served so.  
As mought have liked as brave a Dame as she,  
Her Friend she forced not but let him go,  
She looude at least besides him two or three:  
Her common cheer to erie one that sued,  
Bred me to deem she did her Friend delude.  
Great was my grief at first to be refused  
That Long had looude with true unfeigned heart,  
But when I saw I had been long abused  
I forced the less from such a Friend to part:  
Yet ere I gave her up I gained a thing  
That grief to her, and ease to me did bring.   

To a Friend that willed him to beware of Envy.  
THis sound advise and counsel sent from you  
With friendly heart that you (my friend) do give,  
With willing mind I purpose to ensue,  
And to beware of Envy whilst I live.  
For spiteful it doth nought but malice brew  
Aye seeking Love from faithful hearts to rive,  
And plant in place where perfect Friendship grew  
A mortal hate, good Nature to deprive:  
And those that nip me by the back behind,  
I trust you shall untrue reporters find.   

Of Misreporters.  
I Hope (mine Own) this fixed Love of thine  
Is so well stayed and rooted deep in breast  
That not, unless thou see it with thine eine  
That I from thee my love and Friendship wrest,  
Thou wilt untie the knot of thy behest.  
I trust yourself of Envy will beware  
That wild your friend take heed of envies snare.   

That no man should write but such as do excel.  
SHould no man write (say you,)  
but such as do excel?  
This fond devise of yours deserves  
a Babble and a Bell.  
Then one alone should do  
or very few in deed:  
For that in erie Art there can  
but one alone exceed.  
Should others idle be  
and waste their age in vain,  
That mought perhaps in after time  
the prick and price attain?  
By practise skill is got  
by practice Wit is won.  
At games you see how many do  
to win the wager run,  
Yet one among the more  
doth bear away the Bell:  
Is that a cause to say the rest  
in running did not well?  
If none in Physic should  
but only Galene deal,  
No doubt a thousand perish would  
whom Physic now doth heal.  
Each one his Talon hath,  
to use at his devise:  
Which makes that many men as well  
as one are counted wise.  
For if that Wit alone  
in one should rest and rain  
Then God the skulls of other men  
did make but all in vain.  
Let each one try his force,  
and do the best he can  
For thereunto appointed were  
the hand and head of man.  
The Poet Horace speaks  
against thy Reason plain,  
Who says 'tis, somewhat to attempt  
although thou not attain  
The scope in erie thing:  
to touch the highst degree  
Is passing hard, too do the best  
sufficing is for thee.   

To his Friend, declaring what virtue it is to stick to former plighted friendship.  
THe sage and Silver haired Wights do think  
A virtue rare not to be proud of mind  
When Fortune smiles: nor cowardly to shrink  
Though changed Chance do show herself unkind.  
But chiefest praise is to embrace the man  
In wealth and woe with whom your love began.   

Of two desperate Men.  
A Man in deep despair with Hemp in hand  
Went out in haste to end his wretched days:  
And where he thought the Gallo tree should stand  
He found a Pot of Gold: he goes his ways  
Therewith eftsoon, and in exchange he left  
The Rope wherewith he would his breath bereft.  
¶ The greedy Carl came within a space  
That owed the good, and saw the Pot behind  
Where Ruddocks lay, and in the Ruddocks place  
A knotty Cord, but Ruddocks could not find:  
He caught the Hemp and hung himself on tree,  
For grief that he is Treasure could not see.   

Of the torments of Hell and the pains of love.  
THough they that wanted graee  
and whilom lived here,  
Sustain such pangs and pains in Hell  
as doth by Books appear,  
Though restless be the rage  
of that infernal rout,  
That void of fear and Pities plaint  
do fling the fire about,  
And toss the blazing Brands  
that never shall consume,  
And breath on silly Souls that fit  
and suffer furious fume:  
Though Tantal, Pelops Son,  
abide the Dropsy dry,  
And starve with hunger where he hath  
both Food and Water by:  
Though Tytius do endure  
his Liver to be rend  
Of Vultures tiring on the same  
unto his spoil ybent:  
And Sysiphe though with pain  
and never stinting drift  
Do role the stone from mountains top  
and it to Mountain lift:  
Though Belydes do broil  
and suffer endless pain,  
In drawing water from the deep  
that falleth down again:  
Though Agamemnon's Son  
such reckless rage endure,  
By mean of furies that with flame  
his griefful smart procure:  
Though Minos hath assigned  
Prometheus to the rack,  
With hand and foot ystretch awide  
till all his limbs do crack;  
To lead a loathsome life  
and die a living death,  
Amid his pains to waste his wind  
and yet to want no breath:  
Though other stand in Styx  
with Sulphur that doth flame,  
And other plunge in Phlegeton  
so ghastly for the name:  
Though Cerberus, the key  
of Pluto's Den that bears,  
With hungry throat and greedy gripe  
the newcome Stranger tears:  
Though these condemned Ghosts  
such dreadful pain endures,  
Yet may they not compare at all  
with pangs that Love procures.  
His tiring far exceeds  
the gnawing of the Gripes,  
And with his Whip such lashes gives  
that pass Megaera's stripes.  
He lets the Liver lie,  
tormenting aye the heart:  
He strikes and wounds his bounden thrall  
with double headed Dart.  
His fire exceeds the flame  
of deep avernus Lakes:  
And where he once pretends a plague  
a spiteful spoil he makes.  
His foes do wake by day  
they dread to sleep the night:  
They ban the Sun, they curse the Moon,  
and all that else gives light.  
They pass their loathsome lives  
with not contented mind:  
Their doleful days draw slow to date  
as Cupid hath assigned.  
To Tantal like, but yet  
their case is worse than his:  
They have that they embrace, but strait  
are quite bereft of bliss.  
They waste their wind in sighs  
they blear their eyes with brine:  
They break their bulcks with bouncing grief,  
their hearts with lingering pine.  
Though Orpheus were alive  
with Music that appeased  
The ugly God of Limbo Lake,  
and souls so sore diseased,  
By Art he mought not ease  
the lovers fervent fits,  
Ne purchase him his hearts desire  
so troubled are his wits.  
No place of quiet rest,  
no room devoid of ruth:  
No swaging of his endless pain  
whose death doth try his truth.  
His Chamber serves for nought  
but witness of his plaint,  
His Bed and Bolster to bewail  
their Lord with Love attaint.  
The man for murder caught  
and clodgde with iron cold  
To swear that he more happy is  
than Lovers may be bold.  
For he in little space  
his dreadful day shall see,  
But Cupid's thralls in daily griefs  
tormented daily be.  
A thousand deaths they bide  
whilst they in life remain,  
And only plaints and stormy thoughts  
they are the lovers gain.   

¶ An Epitaph of the death of Master Tufton of Kent.  
HEre may we see the force of spiteful death  
And what a sway it bears in worldly things,  
It neither spares the one nor others breath,  
He slays the Keasers and the crowned Kings.  
Nothing prevails against his hateful hand  
He hears no suitors when they plead for life,  
The richman's purse cannot Deaths power withstand,  
Nor Soldiers sword compare with fatal Knife.  
He recketh not of well renowned fame  
He forceth not a whit of golden Fee,  
His greatest joy is to obscure the name  
Of such as seek immortal aye to be.  
For if that wealth, blood, lineage, or desert  
Love, pity, zeal, or friendship mought prevailed,  
If life well led, if true unfeigned heart  
Mought purchase life: then Death had not assailed.  
This Tuftons life with cursed and cruel blade  
Breaking the course of him that ran so right  
A race as he no stop at all had made  
Had Death not tripped this Tufton for despite.  
The poor have lost the rich have nothing gained,  
The good have cause to mourn, the ill to plain:  
For Tufton was to all a Friend unfaind.  
Let Kent cry out that Death hath Tufton slain,  
Yet this there is whereof they may rejoice  
That his good life hath won the people's voice.   

Again.  
LEt never man presume on worldly wealth,  
Let riches never breed a lofty mind,  
Let no man boast to much of perfit health  
Let Nature's gifts make no man over blind  
For these are all but Bladders full of wind.  
Let friendship not enforce a reckless thought,  
Let no desert or life well led before,  
Let no renown or glory greatly sought  
Make man forget his present state the more:  
For death is he that keeps and rids the store.  
If either health, or goods had been of power,  
If Nature's gifts, or friendship and good will,  
If life forepast, if glories Golden Bower  
Mought have prevailed, or stopped the doleful Knill  
Of Tufton, then had Tufton lived still.  
But now you see that Death hath quite undone  
His last of life, and put him to the foil,  
Yet lives the virtue that alive he won,  
The times alone are shrouded in the soil:  
Thus Death is end of all this worldlesse toil.   

In praise of Lady P.  
P. Seems of Venus' stock to be  
for beauties comely grace,  
A Grysell for her gravity,  
a Helen for her face:  
A second Pallas for her Wit,  
a Goddess rare in sight:  
A Diana for her daintiness,  
she is so chaste a Wight.  
Do view her Corpse with curious eye,  
each limb from top to toe,  
And you shall say I tell but truth  
that do extol her so.  
The Head as chief that stands aloft  
and over looketh all,  
With wisdom is so fully fraught  
as Pallas there did ●all.  
Two Ears th●●…●ust no trifling tales  
nor credit b 〈…〉 rute:  
Yet such again as ready are  
to hear the humbles suit.  
Her Eyes are such as will not gaze  
on things not worthy sight,  
And where she ought to cast a look  
she will not wink in spite.  
The golden grains that greedy guests  
from foreign Countries bring,  
Ne shining Phoebus glittering beams  
that on his Godhead spring:  
No ancient Amber had in price  
of Roman Matrons old,  
May be compared with splendent hatres  
that pass the venice Gold.  
Her Nose adorns her countenance so  
in middle justly placed,  
As it at no time will permit  
her beauty be defaced.  
Her Mouth so small her teeth so white  
as any Whale his bone,  
Her lips without so lively red  
that pass the Coral stone.  
What need I to describe her Cheeks?  
her Chin? or else her Pap?  
For they are all as though the ●ose  
lodge in the Lilies lap  
What should I stand upon the rest  
or other parts depaint:  
As little Hand with Fingers long?  
my wits are all to faint.  
Yet this I say in her behalf  
if Helen were her leek,  
Sir Paris need not to disdain  
her through the Seas to seek:  
Nor Menelaus was unwise  
or Troop of Troyans' mad,  
When he with them, and they with him,  
for her such combat had.  
Leander's labour was not lost  
that swum the surging Seas,  
If Hero were of such a hue  
whom so he sought to please.  
And if Admetus' Darling dear  
were of so fresh a face,  
Though Phoebus kept Admetus' flock  
it may not him disgrace.  
Nor mighty Mavors' way the flouts  
and laughing of the rest,  
If such a one were she with whom  
he lay in Vulcan's Nest.  
If Bryseis beauty were so brave,  
Achilles needs no blame  
Who left the Camp and fled the field  
for losing such a Dame.  
If she in Ida had been seen  
with Pallas and the rest,  
I doubt where Paris would have chose  
Dame Venus for the best,  
Or if Pygmalion had but ta'en  
a glimpse of such a face,  
He would not then his Idol dumb  
so fervently embrace.  
But what shall need so many words  
in things that are so plain?  
I say but that I doubt where Kind  
can make the like again.   

The Lover in utter despair of his Lady's return, in each respect compares his estate with Troilus.  
MY case with Troilus may compare,  
For as he felt both sorrow and care:  
Even so do I most Miser Wight,  
That am a Troilus outright.  
As ere he could achieve his wish,  
He fed of many a doleful dish,  
And day and night unto the Skies  
The silly Trojan kest his eyes,  
Requesting ruth at Cressida's hand  
In whom his life and death did stand:  
So night and day I spent in woe,  
Ere she her pity would bestow  
To quite me from the painful plight  
That made me be a Martyr right.  
As when at last he favour sound,  
And was recured of his wound,  
His grudging griefs to comfort grew,  
And torments from the Trojan slew:  
So when my Lady did remove  
Her rigour, and began to love  
Her Vassell in such friendly sort,  
As might appear by outward port:  
Then who began to joy but I  
That stood my Mistress heart so nigh?  
Then (as the Trojan did) I song,  
And out my Lady's virtues rung  
So loud, as all the world could tell  
What was the meaning of the Bell.  
And as that pleasant taste of joy  
That he endured had in Troy,  
From sweet to sower did convert,  
When Cressida did thence departed:  
So my forepast pleasures are  
By spiteful Fortune put a far  
By her departure from this place,  
Where I was wont to view her face.  
So Angelic that shone in sight  
Surpassing Phoebe's golden light.  
As when that Diomed the Greek  
Had given the Trojan Foe the gléeke.  
And rest him Cressida's comely hue  
Which often made his heart to rue,  
The woeful Troilus did lament,  
And doleful days in mourning spent:  
So I bereft my loving Make,  
To sighs and sobbings me betake,  
Repining that my fortune is  
Of my desired Friend to miss,  
And that a guileful Greek should be  
Esteemed of her in such degree.  
But though my fortune frame awry,  
And I despoiled her company  
Must waste the day and night in woe,  
For that the Gods appointed so:  
I natheless will wish her well  
And better than to Cressida fell.  
I pray she may have better hap  
Than beg her bread with Dish and Clap,  
As she the silly Miser did  
When Troilus by the Spittle rid.  
God shield her from the Lazars lore  
And loathsome Lepers stinking sore,  
And for the love I erst her bare  
I wish her as myself to far:  
Myself that am a Trojan true  
As she full well by trial knue.  
And as King Priam's worthy Son  
All other Ladies seemed to shun  
For love of Cressida: so do I  
All Venus Darlings quite defy,  
In mind to love them all alee●e,  
That leave a Trojan for a Greek.   

The Lover declareth what he would have if he might obtain his wish.  
IF Gods would deign to lend  
a listening ear to me  
And yield me my demand at full,  
what think you it to be?  
Not to excel in seat  
or wield the Regal Mace,  
Or Sceptre in such stately sort  
as might commend the place.  
For as their Haul is high,  
so is their ruin rough,  
As those that erst hath felt the fall  
declare it well enough.  
Ne would I wish by war  
and bloody blade in fist,  
To gore the ground with guiltless blood  
of such as would resist.  
For Tyrants though a while  
do lead their lives in joy,  
Yet Tyrants try in tracked of time  
how bloodshed doth annoy.  
I would none office crave,  
ne Consulship request:  
For that such rule is full of rage,  
and fraught with all unrest.  
Ne would I wish for wealth  
in great excess to flow,  
Which keeps the Keys of discords Den  
as all the world doth know.  
But my desire should far  
such base requests excel,  
That I might her enjoy at will  
whom I do love so well.  
O mighty God of Gods  
I were assured than  
In happy hap him to surpass  
that were the happiest man.  
Then might I march in mirth  
with well contented mind,  
And joy to think that I in love  
such blissful hap did find.  
What friendly words would we  
together then recite?  
More than my tongue is able tell  
or this poor Pen to write.  
Then should my heart rejoice  
and thereby comfort take,  
As they have felt that erst have had  
the use of such a Make.  
If Fortune than would frown,  
or sought me to disgrace:  
The touching of her cherry lip  
such sorrows would displace.  
Or if such grief did grow  
as might procure my smart,  
Her long and limber arms to me  
might soon reduce my heart.  
For as by foaming floods  
the fleating Fishes lives:  
To Salamanders as the ●●me  
their only comfort gives:  
So doth thy beauty (P)  
my sorrows quite expel:  
And makes me far where I should faint  
unless thou lovest me well.  
And as by Water's want,  
Fish falleth to decay,  
And Salamander can not live  
when flame is ta'en away:  
So absence from her sight  
whole Seas of sorrows makes,  
Which presence of that Paragon  
by secret virtue slakes.  
Would Death would spare to spoil  
and crooked age to raze  
(As they are wont by course of kind)  
Pees beauty in this case.  
Yet though their rigour rage,  
and power by proof be plain:  
If P. should die to morrow next,  
yet P. should live again.  
For Phoenix by his kind  
to Phoenix will return,  
When he by force of Phoebus' flame  
in scalding Skies do burn.  
Then P. must needs revive  
that is a Phoenix plain:  
And P. by lack of lively breath  
shall be a P. again.   

Of a Gentlewoman that wild her Lover to wear green Bays in token of her steadfast love towards him.  
B: Told me that the Bay would aye be green,  
And never change his hue for winters threat:  
Wherefore (quoth she) that plainly may be seen  
What love thy Lady bears, the Laurel get.  
A branch aloft upon the Helmet wear,  
Presuming that until the Laurel die  
And lose his native colour, I will bear  
A faithful heart, and never swerver awry.  
I (seely soul) did smile with joyful brow  
Hoping that Daphnis would retained her hue  
And not have changed: & likewise that the vow  
My Lady made would make my Lady true.  
O Gods, behold the chance, I wore the Tree,  
And honoured it as stay of steadfast Love:  
But suddenly the Laurel might I see  
To look as brown as doth the brownest Dove.  
I marveled much at this unwonted sight:  
Within a day or two came news to me  
That she had changed, & swarude her friendship quite  
Wherefore affy in neither trull nor tree.  
For I perceive that colours lightly change,  
And Ladies love on sudden waxeth strange.   

¶ An Epitaph of Master Edward's sometime Master of the Children of the Chapel, and Gentleman of Lincoln's Inn of Court.  
YE Learned Muses nine  
and sacred Sisters all,  
Now lay your cheerful Cithrons' down  
and to lamenting fall.  
Rend off those Garlands green,  
do Laurel Leaves away,  
Remove the Myrtell from your brows  
and stint on strings to play.  
For he that led the dance  
the chiefest of your train,  
(I mean the man that Edward's height)  
by cruel death is slain.  
Ye Courtiers change your cheer,  
lament in wailful wise,  
For now your Orpheus hath resigned,  
in clay his Carcase lies.  
O ruth, he is bereft  
that whilst he lived here  
For Poet's Pen and passing Wit  
could have no English Peer.  
His vain in Verse was such,  
so stately eke his style  
His feat in forging sugared Songs  
with clean and curious file,  
As all the learned Greeks  
and Romans would repine  
If they did live again, to view  
his Verse with scornful eine.  
From Plautus he the Palm  
and learned Terence wan,  
His writings well declared the Wit  
that lurked in the man.  
O Death thou stoodst in dread  
that Edward's by his Art  
And Wisdom would have scaped thy shaft  
and fled thy furious Dart.  
This fear enforced thy fist  
thy cursed Bow to bend,  
And let the fatal Arrow fly  
that Edward's life did end.  
But spite of all thy spite  
when all thy hate is tried,  
(Thou cursed Death) his earned praise  
in Mouth of Man shall bide.  
Wherefore (O Fame) I say  
to trump thy lips apply,  
And blow a blast that Edward's brute  
may pierce the golden Sky.  
For here below in earth  
his name is so well known:  
As each that knew his life, laments  
that he so soon is gone.   

¶ An Epitaph on the death of Master Arthur Brooke drowned in passing to New Haven.  
AT point to end and finish this my Book,  
Came good report to me, and willed me write  
A doleful Verse, in praise of Authur Brooke  
That age to come lament his fortune might.  
Agreed (quoth I) for sure his Virtues were  
As many as his years in number few:  
The Muses him in learned laps did bear,  
And Pallas Dug this dainty Bab did chew.  
Apollo lent him Lute for solace sake  
To sound his Verse by touch of stately string,  
And of the never fading Bay did make  
A Laurel Crown, about his brows to cling,  
In proof that he for mitre did excel  
As may be judge by julyet and her Mate:  
For there he showed his cunning passing well  
When he the Tale to English did translate.  
But what? as he to foreign Realm was bound  
With others more his sovereign Queen to serve,  
Amid the Seas unlucky youth was drowned,  
More speedy death than such one did deserve.  
Ay me, that time (thou crooked Delphin) where  
Wast thou, Aryons help and only stay,  
That safely him from Sea to shore didst bear?  
when Brooke was drowned why waist thou then away?  
If sound of Harp thine ear delighted so  
And causer was that he bestrid thy back,  
Then doubtless thou moughst well on Brook bestow  
As good a turn to save him from the wrack.  
For sure his hand Aryons Harp excelled,  
His pleasant Pen did pass the others skill,  
Who so his Book with judging eye beheld  
Gave thanks to him, and praised his learned quill.  
Thou cruel gulf what meanest thou to devour  
With supping Seas a jewel of such fame?  
Why didst thou so with water mar the Flower  
That Pallas thought so curiously to frame?  
Unhappy was the Haven which he sought,  
Cruel the Seas whereon his Ship did glide,  
The winds to rough that Brook to ruin brought,  
Unskilful he that undertook to glide.  
But sithence tears can not revoke the dead,  
Nor cries recall a drowned man to land:  
Let this suffice textall the life he led  
And print his praise in house of Fame to stand  
That they that after us shall be and live  
Deserved praise to Arthur Brooke may give.  
(ꝙ) G. T.   

Of the renowned Lady, Lady Anne Countess Warwick.  
AN Earl was your Sire a worthy Wight,  
A countess gave you Tet, a Noble Dame,  
An Earl is your fear, a Mars outright,  
A countess eke yourself of bruited fame▪  
A Brother Lord, your Father Earls Son,  
Thus doth your line in Lords and Earls run.  
You were well known of russel's race a child,  
Of Bedford's blood that now doth live an Earl,  
Now Warwick's wife, a warlike man in field,  
A Venus' Peer, a rich and Orient Pearl,  
Wherefore to you that Sister, Child, and Wife  
To Lord and Earls are, I wish long life.  
You Alpha were when I this Book begun  
And foremost, as became your state, did stand,  
To be Omega now you will not shoonne,  
(O Noble Dame) I trust: but take with hand  
This ragged rhyme, and with a courteous look  
And countess eye peruse this trifling Book.   

The Authors Epiloge to his Book  
THe countenance of this Noble countess mark  
When she thy Verse with eye that sapphire like  
Doth shine surveys, let be thy only carck  
To note her Looks: and if she ought mislike  
Say that thou shouldst have hid it from her sight,  
Thy Author made the best for her delight,  
The worst he willed in covert scroll to lurk  
Until the Bear were overlicked afresh,  
For why in deep this hasty hatched work  
Resembleth much the shapeless lump of flesh  
That Bears bring forth: So when I lick thee over  
Thou shalt (I trust) thy perfit shape recover.  
FINIS.   

Imprinted at London by Henry Denham, dwelling in Paternoster Row, at the sign of the Star.  
OS HOMINI SVBLIME DEDIT.  
Anno Domini 1567.  
Cum Privilegio.